#Spine Instrument Set | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heegyukeluv · 7 months ago

Text

your eyes only (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab & musical actress!reader

synopsis: You were used to having all eyes on you; after all, as a renowned musical actress, capturing everyone's attention was part of your job. But the moment you noticed a pair of eyes in the audience gazing at you with such passion, you knew things would change.

my's note: first and foremost A✨!!!!! YOUR VISION!!!!!! please i’m so happy you gifted me with the pleasure of developing this super cute and loving story. i really had so much fun writing it, and i hope you like it too!! also during the smut scene i got a bit carried away by these pics and maybe i’ve dedicated too much time talking about heeseung’s arms 😀 not sorry btw

warnings: fluff, small angsty (but with a happy ending!!!), explicit language, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex 💪🏻, fingering, kinda rough sex? (this is the roughest i think i can do, unironically lol). lmk if I missed something!

request: reader is a musical actor/actress who takes many roles in musicals, plays, some movies and so and so forth. heeseung goes to one of the reader's musicals and is enamored by their voice and talent, and of course, their looks. (read the full request here!)

wc: 19k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

Heeseung rushed his way out of his car, jogging through the people in the middle of his route to get to the theater as soon as he could, already knowing Sunoo was so pissed off with his lateness.

He spotted the blonde haired furiously typing on his phone with a scowl expression, alone, waiting for him.

“Don’t even start with your lame excuses,” Sunoo stopped Heeseung before he said anything when he finally got to the younger’s side, glaring up from his phone and already hurrying his steps towards the theater entrance.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung tried his best to sound apologetic, softening his gaze, opting for not making up any justification.

It wasn’t like he purposely got stuck in the traffic at all, however, he definitely was guilty about leaving the house twenty minutes later than he promised, just because he decided to finish up his League game.

It was Saturday, of course he would choose to spend some screen time doing his favorite hobby.

“I know you don’t like musicals, or almost anything related, but you kinda gave me your word, so…”

They both walked side by side, stopping quickly to show their tickets to the worker who let them in after verifying it in the system.

“I know, I know. And I’m really sorry.”

The lights were already off as the show was about to start, making them struggle a bit to find their seats; close to the edge and not too far from the stage.

“You won’t regret coming, Hee.” Sunoo smiled sweetly, already at ease with his behavior, picking up his phone to take a picture of the glowing set, just waiting for the right moment to start. He wasn’t really pissed with Heeseung, he knew the older one was actually doing him a favor. “I saw some pictures on instagram and it’s so pretty.”

Although Sunoo wasn’t lying about him, he was actually excited with the idea of watching something so different from his natural liking, and the bright, enthusiastic face Sunoo showed made his expectations grow even higher.

Heeseung diverted his eyes to the theater main floor when the instrumental started sounding through the speakers, indicating the play was about to start, a shiver of excitement running all the way through his spine while he straightened his back on the chair.

The story was being told from the main character’s perspective, as expected. But what really got Heeseung tilting his head to the side and his eyes glistening in interest was the incredible beauty of the actress.

She had expressions on point, as if she was born to be there, happily wandering through the whole stage with bright smiles, looking at the crowd once and a while and acting with pure talent. She shone in between the other actors, drawing attention easily towards her. Of course she had the main character aura that helped it a lot, however, at some point Heeseung was sure that he, himself, had an extra spotlight on her, eyes never leaving her meticulously calculated movements and attractive face.

The way she showed raw emotions from the beginning got Heeseung laughing, worried and relieved – a rollercoaster of emotions he never thought he would go through just by watching a Tangled musical.

He also caught himself wishing for the actress to drift her eyes through the crowd just once more, so she would feel his intense gaze and look at his way, in a very utopic, hopeless, line of thought.

When the said Aurora got the chance to finally sing, Heeseung just let himself completely fall in love, unconsciously sighing as his heart faltered a beat every once. He didn’t expect her to have such a loving, enchanting, singing voice, making his body ache in despair to have more of it.

The final act got him all smiling, clapping his hands with genuine enthusiasm as the actors bowed to the crowd thanking them for watching. When the curtains dramatically closed, Heeseung inclined his head a bit to the center so he could watch you going away, leaving him with a taste for more.

He thought about trying to go to the backstage, especially when he saw a few people lining up apparently to get a photo with the cast, but Sunoo was already walking his way out of the theater and he deduced it had some kind of special ticket to get that.

“Who is Aurora?” Heeseung eagerly asked Sunoo when they stepped out of the theater, walking through the parking lot. He had literal crossed fingers hidden inside his jacket pockets, in hopes of Sunoo knowing about the actress.

Sunoo playfully raised an eyebrow. “I know you don’t like musicals, but not to know who Aurora is, is kinda–”

“No, I meant the actress,” Heeseung hurried to correct himself, blaming the fact he was still in awe. “Do you know her name?”

“Oh,” Sunoo replied by taking his phone out of his pocket and opening his instagram, showing the screen to Heeseung. “It’s Y/N. She’s one of the most famous actresses for musicals like that. I love her acts, like all of them,” he replied with a big smile, gesturing with his hands.

Heeseung quickly got his phone to follow you after getting your username, not even caring about thanking Sunoo as he slid through your cute feed, shamelessly liking some of them. It wasn’t like you would notice him, as you had thousands of followers and a very busy routine, as it looked like.

And oh, you were so, so beautiful.

“So, how do you like it?” Sunoo asked with a small smirk when they stopped by Heeseung’s car, not failing to notice how the older one got really invested, although he wasn’t much sure if the fixation was about the musical itself or you.

“Honestly?” Heeseung locked his phone and opened his car. “I loved it more than I expected,” he answered with a genuine smile, a smile that did nothing to hide his real interest.

“It’s a pity this is the last one,” Sunoo said with a small pout when he entered the car, sitting on the passenger seat.

“W–What do you mean the last one?” Heeseung halted all his movements to fully face Sunoo with a slightly bewildered expression, who offered him confused eyes and a small frown.

“It’s the last Tangled musical they're gonna do,” he explained. “Y’know, they don’t do the same musicals over and over again. Especially with Y/N. She’s constantly casted for new ones,” Sunoo added, watching Heeseung’s face softening in relief before he started to drive.

“You seem to know a lot about her,” Heeseung said with curiosity, eyeing Sunoo quickly before paying attention back to the road, the street lights passing by working as a beautiful background.

“Yeah, I really love her work.” He said with a dreamy tone, and Heeseung nodded, since now he was kind of loving your work too. “It’s a shame we don’t get to have more from her here in the town.”

“Hm?” Heeseung's head snapped to face Sunoo, and gladly he had stopped at the red light in time.

“Musicals work almost like a band tour. They go through the whole country, stopping by cities for one or two weeks, it depends on the demand. This one had a three week engagement here!” He said excitedly, Heeseung paying attention to every detail. His heart sank inside his chest with the now acknowledgement of how your job worked, and the fact that he definitely wasn’t going to see you soon. “But college got me stuck, so I didn’t have the time to come and watch it. That’s why today was so special, as I texted you. It was the last one.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Heeseung said with a tender, genuine smile.

Heeseung’s car stopped by Sunoo’s place, and with a quick goodbye he left, leaving behind a completely silent Heeseung, lost in his own thoughts. How would he feed his newest obsession?

When Heeseung finally got back into his apartment, he cared little about changing his clothes into something more comfortable, sprawling on the couch while stalking your social media for a bit.

He watched your newly posted instagram stories, most of them being reposts of videos and photos from the audience that tagged you into it, saying how proud of you they were, how much they liked and how pretty you looked.

Heeseung remembered Sunoo taking a picture of the set before the play started, and quickly asked him for it so he could post it on his story as well, using the lame excuse that he wanted to show his followers his most new-found interest.

Of course Sunoo didn’t really bought it, but sent it anyway.

Heeseung had never felt nervous about posting something on his instagram, especially on his story, a place where pictures and videos only lasted 24 hours. Nevertheless, in the past you weren’t in the equation, you weren’t the main target, you didn’t even existed to him. So he double-checked the small text and if the picture looked good enough to stand out in between the probably hundred others you got tagged into, pressing the “send” button.

“First time watching it. I loved it so much. You really know how to catch people's attention @ y/n ;)”.

As the picture loaded, Heeseung instantly wondered if it was too much, with widened eyes and heart pacing fast, panicking a bit as he paid close attention to how some of his friends liked and replied to it almost immediately, but nothing came from you.

He waited for a few minutes for your possible repost, since you were online just seconds ago, scrolling through his timeline, a chill feeling overgrowing in his chest every time the small red ball of notification painted the top of his phone. Then he let out a defeated sigh as the reality settled in – meeting you was unlikely, and the chances of someone as famous as you noticing an ordinary guy like him seemed impossible.

That night he hopelessly hoped to dream about you and your voice, so he could experience more of your distant, idol-like presence. He was so intrigued about you. Your beautiful features, your perfect acting, your incredible voice, everything extremely fascinating for his poor, weak heart.

Unfortunately Heeseung did not dreamt about you, but he woke up with his phone buzzing under his pillow.

With eyes squinting, Heeseung tried to understand why he got followed by a bunch of random people on instagram from last night. There were also a lot of texts from Sunoo in caps lock that his mind skipped reading and his everyday notifications that he always ignored. And then his attention was caught with your name.

He expected you to repost as you were doing for the majority of your fans, but you didn’t only reposted. You replied to him, directly.

“Thank you, sweetheart! Hope to see you more, then <3”

“It’s just a message. She probably sends it to everyone. She seems reachable through her social media.”

Heeseung was trying to convince Sunoo – and himself – that your reply meant nothing but a simple, standard gesture from an artist thanking their fans. After all, he was a grown man who understood how the industry worked, how they encouraged fanservices as a way of attracting more people from the outside and maintaining the ones who already considered themselves as fans.

Albeit his heart danced a different melody than his mind, doing flips just by remembering your sweet words.

“I don’t think so,” Sunoo retorted with a small grimace as he finished cleaning the corner of the cafeteria’s main counter. “The usual?” He asked Heeseung before getting ready to make his drink.

“Yeah, I’m running late for work,” Heeseung replied, glancing at his phone just to confirm that he probably would be ten minutes late to that morning’s meeting.

“But I think you should shoot your shot, y’know,” Sunoo said with a grin while mixing all the ingredients. “Slide into her DM’s or something.”

Heeseung couldn’t hold back a small chuckle, leaning his upper body on the counter. “Is that how young people flirt nowadays?”

Sunoo threw an offended glare at him. “Don’t act like you’re an oldie. You’re literally only 2 years older than me,” Heeseung laughed loudly at his reaction, shaking his head.

“I won’t do any of that, Sunoo,” he said softly and straightened his posture. “I’d rather just follow her work from afar. Me being in the audience and her, on the stage. That’s the closest I can get from her,” he now spoke more firmly, as if he tried to ground Sunoo’s expectative – and his own – down to reality.

He spent his whole Sunday watching filmed performances from some of your old plays, unable to get enough of your angelic voice, your palpable talent, and of course, your gorgeous, captivating outstanding looks. The knowledge that your job made you be constant for a year or less, and then you were away for months, preparing for the next musical, shattered his hope and made him accept that he would have to wait for you to return.

“Well, you do you. But in my personal opinion, you’re missing a big opportunity,” Sunoo handed Heeseung’s coffee, waiting for the charge and the usual tip.

Once again, Heeseung shook his head, smiling and paying for his drink. “Thank you, have a great day Sunoo.”

“You too, Hee.”

Heeseung wouldn’t admit that easily, but he gathered some of his favorite performances from you in a youtube playlist, so he could listen to it while driving through the city, the way to his work sounding prettier with your beautiful voice echoing in his ears.

As he parked his car, rushing to his meeting, he didn’t felt the large amount of stress he normally dealt with during Mondays, your melodic singing still fresh on his mind, easing the way he handled things through the day.

The following weeks passed fast with his daily routine; you, still filling up his head in an addicting mix of your sweet vocals and his eagerness of witnessing you owning the stage again.

Heeseung craved the electrifying rush of his heart racing with wonder after you captivated his soul he once felt when first watched you perform, as if he was in abstinence.

He monitored your social media for almost two months, hoping to see an announcement of your next musical or anything similar enough to give him a chance to listen and see you live, feeling extra hyped whenever he saw a picture of your practice, or other things related to your upcoming project.

He never got so invested in something or someone the way he was in you, especially after just so little time tasting from the source.

During a random Tuesday, fauxing listening to Jake’s rant about his new love interest and how confused he was feeling, he caught himself traveling through his own head, wondering what triggered this obsessive behavior.

Was it how dreamy you looked and sounded?

Was it the fact that he had to wait to get more from you?

Or maybe was the fact you were unreachable, acting like a bait to his delusional romantic heart?

Did he really fell in love with a famous person?

How bad was that?

“And you're ignoring me again.”

Heeseung blinked a few times to regain his consciousness back to reality, the one where Jake was shooting him an annoyed look and his food was getting cold; the thoughts about you and his respective questions evaporating from his mind quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit distracted today,” Heeseung slurped his, now, cold ramen, avoiding Jake’s judgmental eyes and grabbing his phone to see the notification that got it buzzing on the table.

“Oh, you tell me.” He rolled his eyes, before giving a quick head nod at Heeseung’s direction. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, nothing. You can continue your–” Heeseung was about to change the subject back to whatever Jake was talking, not wanting to admit that the reason he got so zoned out was you, although Jake was pretty much aware of this part of his friend’s life; Heeseung being a mess and failing completely in the art of downplaying. But then he saw Sunoo’s message. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Jake asked with concern, observing Heeseung’s expression morphing from a shocking one with widened eyes and mouth slightly agape, to an extremely joyful one, with a big smile creeping out of his lips, growing gradually.

“Oh shit, oh shit.”

“What!?” Jake exasperated, almost jumping over the table to try and see what got Heeseung so excited on his phone, curiosity overtaking him. “Huh?” He tilted his head with confusion, sitting back on his chair, trying to understand Heeseung’s overly stoked reaction over a simple poster from a musical.

On the other hand Heeseung’s heart was racing too quickly for his own liking, his hands faltering the grip on his phone as he read the dates for the performances, which were starting that weekend in some random place he didn’t paid attention since what caught his eyes was the theater name from the next week.

He couldn’t believe it.

You were coming back.

After all the waiting, here was the chance he'd been craving – the chance to see you live again. His fingers twitched with excitement as he clicked on the link to the ticket sales, not even caring about Jake’s bewildered face and questions, too focused on rushing to the ‘buy menu’.

“Oh shit, this is happening,” Heeseung muttered to himself, more to confirm it than to explain anything to Jake.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on or just forget I’m right here?” Jake demanded, clearly frustrated but also amused by Heeseung's sudden outburst.

Heeseung finally looked up, beaming, eyes gleaming with something Jake never really saw before; it was like a child who got their first videogame after years of asking for it.

"It’s her, Jake! That singer I told you about. She’s performing here in like… A few days?" The cool facade he tried to maintain had a fall long ago, his ‘fanboy side’ being more revealed than he wanted.

Jake’s confusion lingered for a second before he remembered Heeseung relentlessly talking about this mysterious woman, the musical actress who had somehow captivated his friend so intensely. He let out a knowing groan. “So, you’re still obsessing over her, huh?”

“Not obsessing,” Heeseung corrected with a grin that betrayed him, his whole expression showing that he was, in fact, obsessing. “Just… Eager.”

Jake shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Eager, huh?” He leaned closer, raising an eyebrow up. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says, and then they spend a fortune on front-row tickets."

“Oh, right. Front-row…” Heeseung mumbled to himself as he got back to his phone, browsing through the available seats, hands slightly trembling as his finger pressed down to choose one of the best seats in the theater – front and center – with Jake’s words echoing in his mind. Thanks to Sunoo, he saw the announcement just in enough time to pick that one, and he completely ignored the price for the said ticket.

“You’re really doing this?” Jake asked, incredulous watching Heeseung smile growing just before he bit his lower lip trying to contain it, as he leaned back on his chair.

“I have to,” Heeseung said, finding it hard to not smile. His whole body was partying with his heartbeat serving as the background music. "This is my chance to see her again."

Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’re so random.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung admitted with a shrug, his thoughts already drifting to the date he would see you, imagining your captivating presence on stage, singing with your ethereal voice, finally feeling every note in the same room as you with the attention you deserved.

He couldn’t wait.

Every time you opened a new show in a different city, your body reacted as if it was your first time on stage, the blended nervousness and excitement working perfectly together and resulting in an adrenaline boost for you to be on cloud nine.

You loved your job with all your soul. The family-like friendship you developed with your beloved crewmates and actors, the backstage of the plays where you sometimes helped with the props letting your creativity flow freely, the difficult work of memorizing the scenes keeping it to the original at the same time you add a few self-written lines here and there, even the chaos of the quick costume changes and fast makeup touch-up in between scenes.

But what got into your heart the most was the ability to sing your voice out, being the one under the spotlight, expressing yourself through your acting, surprising people with your so known talent the same amount you made them clap for your breathtaking performances – the cheers after every play you finished making you fulfilled, a constant feeling of accomplishment.

You worked hard to get into that position though. Years of intense studying in college, years of hard vocal lessons you still took to this day, years of working much to be paid less, until fame hit you and things have worked amazingly well since then.

Now, facing the closed curtains already in your performer mode, you waited your cue to enter the stage and own it as if it was yours – and almost every time, it actually was.

“Thirty seconds, Y/N,” your stage manager said to you and you nodded.

The new play was about an old film called Anastasia, in which you played the role of the said character. It also featured one of your favorite songs to sing, "Once Upon a December”. The haunting melody and lyrics evoked feelings of nostalgia, hitting deep on you as you drove yourself through it, just like the main character, searching for your identity and place in the world.

The atmosphere your fellow actors and crewmates created while you sang was the epitome of your presentation in your opinion; the created ballroom simulating phantoms dancing around you, so endearingly majestic and graceful, while they, themselves, sang the background, mimicking the lost memories of royalty Anastasia.

It would be an euphemism if you expressed yourself as just excited, especially due to your practice time on your expressions and voice changes to sound as heartbreak as the musical actually was, expecting the general opinion to enjoy it as much as you did.

You could hear the buzz from the public, showing the same enthusiasm. And with that in mind, you got your cue to enter the stage, fast and confident steps guiding you to your place.

As you directed yourself through the stage gracefully, easily taking the breath of anyone watching you, once more the sentiment of belonging eveloped you with a mix of love and deep sense of purpose.

The cheering, the emotional tears, the claps. You felt the audience's admiration through their eyes as the final note echoed in the theater while you held your last pose, breathing heavily as the weight of your performance resonated in your heart.

The curtains closed after you and the other actors bowed to the crowd, who gave a standing ovation to all of you. Your smile was bright and big as you walked your way to the backstage, high-fiving your co-workers – your friends –, sharing the sentiment of accomplishment as you searched for some water, throat extremely dry after so much effort.

Before you could even think about anything else, someone suddenly bear-hugged you.

“I don’t know how you manage to awe me everytime.”

You laughed, letting your friend lift and swirl you. “Oh come on, Jay. You literally saw every single practice,” you said with a light-hearted teasing tone and Jay gently put you back on the floor, letting you go from his strong embrace.

He rolled his eyes before replying. “You did amazing, as always.”

“We did amazing. It's teamwork, don’t forget it,” you winked at him and you both walked to one of the couches, so you could sit and rest for a bit. Your knees burned like hell after spending so much time wandering across the stage. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of that alone, especially without my favorite producer,” you nudged his shoulder playfully, drinking more of your water, making Jay chuckle.

The whole cast and some other crewmates came to compliment your amazing performance, you praising them back and always highlighting how grateful you were to have them not only as co-workers, but as a family, acknowledging the strong importance of their roles during your performances and in your life.

You went through the things that needed to be fixed for the next shows with your stage manager, the small changes in positions for the next theaters the tour would go based on their size and structure, while listening to the equipment and props crew discussing similar stuff.

“So… Where are we going to celebrate our “Anastasia debut”?” Yunjin asked, already frustrated with the fact that all her fellow members were talking about work just after working, you included.

“Don’t you have work to do?” You shoot her a small, playful grimace and she mimicked it, mocking you.

“I just did it, idiot.”

You smiled big as you hugged her from the waist, pulling her closer while resting your cheek on her belly, before questioning. “Where do you wanna go?”

Although partying wasn’t a part of your overall interest, having some drinks with the ones you cherished to be around always sounded fun, so with Yunjin leading – as usual –, many of you followed her into a small pub, having the fun you deserved after months of work that leaded to that night’s rewarding performance.

You couldn’t wait for the upcoming ones, your schedule packed with the amount of dates programmed for a long, exciting, run.

“Ugh, I love Seoul,” Yunjin murmured with a concentrated frown as she took some pictures from the bus window.

You chuckled, quickly glancing at your friend before grabbing your phone so you could reread some of the lines from the musical. Not that you struggled with memorizing the great amount of words you normally got, but you never let the chance to do a double check-up pass; always offering your bestest to your beloved audience was your prime motto.

So you didn’t even realize when the bus started slowing its speed, snapping out of your focused bubble only when you started to hear a small chant of your name. You looked up from your phone screen, watching a little crowd pass by the glass window waving at it showing big smiles, without even knowing if someone was noticing or not.

You always did.

Part of your job was to handle an audience, to make them fall in love with your acting and singing, so you could maintain them as close as possible and keep being able to live from what you loved the most. You enjoyed the interactions, treating them with the same amount of kindness and fondness they showed you through cute texts and letters, not to mention their words whenever they got to meet you in person. You tried to make yourself as available as you could, organizing your day to always have some free time to talk with your fans through your social media.

Although exhausting sometimes, it was a worthwhile endeavor at the end of the day – to sleep with the fresh conscience and heart fulfilled, feeling their genuine love and support, no money could pay that.

When you finally settled at your hotel room, you gave yourself a small self-love treatment by taking a long shower and doing your skin care before heading to the theater with part of the cast to do all the warm-ups routine you needed.

The day carried a revitalizing sensation, your heart thumping with enthusiasm as the third performance of Anastasia approached. This time, however, it was more than special. It was in Seoul, your hometown – a simple fact that worked perfectly as an emotional aura for your background story.

Seoul always held a special place in your heart. No matter how the tour went, you made sure your managers knew that taking Seoul off the list was unforgivable; no matter the demand, no matter how much you could lose financially, you had to perform there. And you thanked your cast and respective crewmates for understanding your request.

While you wrapped up all the final touches from your makeup, hair and costume, drinking your last sip of water, you waited for your cue, as usual, unaware of the surprises the night held for you.

Because on the other side of the story...

Heeseung sat on his front seat with hands trembling and a fluttering heart. Every movement from the crew organizing the set to be perfect made him sweat in eagerness. He was so close to see you again, to witness your charming presence, your divine vocals. He didn’t knew much about the story from Anastasia, expecting for you to sweetly tell him through your performance.

He was actually absorbed in the story being told, albeit his leg shaking showed his anticipation for your appearance.

Thenyou finally stepped up onto the stage. Heeseung’s breath got caught on his throat, widened eyes glued on your every move, on your every expression, never daring to let you escape out of its sight; the front-row seat offering him the perfect view of your amazing looks and talented acting, the sound echoing through the theater tingling his ears in the best way possible.

Then your voice filled up the theater. Heeseung let out a quiet sigh, mouth slightly opened, feeling light headed by how gorgeous you sounded – there was it again, the rush of his heart fluttering in the addicting way it did before, entranced by you, this time intensified, stronger, far more passionate.

As the melody of “Once Upon a December” flew through the air, your beautiful, shooting tone made it even harder not to shed some tears, alongside the couples dancing around you in an atmosphere almost painfully beautiful.

Heeseung was so enamored by every detail of you. How you expressed emotions with your body, with your singing, with your facials. His gaze never left you, following through your out’s and in’s from the stage to change outfits or scenes, missing you every moment you weren’t on the stage.

During your performance, each glimpse you shot at the crowd sent a shiver down his spine, as he silently begged for you to give him one, quick, minimal look, the smallest attention you could offer to him.

For a brief second, you did. Not intentional, but your eyes meet for milliseconds. Heeseung’s heart skipped a beat; the way you smiled as if it was to him fed his delusional self too hard for his own liking. He had to ground himself back to reality in order to continue to savor your captivating performance.

From your point of view, something was different that night. Among the sea of concentrated, curious expressions you normally faced while on stage, one particular person kept drawing your attention in a way it never happened before.

You came across many people watching you, most of them with widened eyes, or mouth open, or a small smile, regular reactions you got from the audience once you showed up.

However, the young man sitting in the front-row flooded you with such endearing reactions; his eyes gleaming with admiration, intensely following your every move almost making you blush. He looked at you as if you were the only person in the room. Soft, tender expression sending a weird mix of reactions through your body.

As you kept doing your act, you couldn't help but glance back at him again whenever you got the chance, trying your best not to be obvious with your sudden curiosity about this stranger who seemed so completely captivated by you.

His reaction was almost adorable – the way his face lit up, as though your small acknowledgment had made his entire night. You felt a warmth in your chest, knowing that someone out there was this touched by your performance.

Through the rest of the play, you forced yourself to focus only on finishing it perfectly. “Anastasia” asked for less of a passion, happy ambiance and more of a sentimental one, and because the spotlight was constantly on you, it was very unprofessional to forget your main reason to be there and falter on your acting.

Nevertheless, each time you quickly landed your gaze on the strange, young – and attractive – man, you couldn’t help. He wasn’t just a regular fan. There was something more in his orbs, something deeper, something magnetic, and you caught yourself having an internal conflict.

As you held your pose for the last piece of the play, showering emotion through your eyes for the happy ending, you nodded proudly to yourself when the cast prepared to wrap things up with the final performance.

Whoever the strange was, you apparently made quite an impression. And maybe, just maybe, he had made one on you too.

“Anastasia” was scheduled to be performed for three consecutives days, an entire weekend. Heeseung bought tickets for all of them, craving to experience you in all the ways he was able to – with the big stage separating you both, leaving him to just observe you from afar while you did your job.

Your job.

After the first night finished, Heeseung questioned himself whether he was perceiving things beyond reality, maybe distorted, influenced by his strange, yet pleasant and intense feelings for you. If not, he was pretty sure that you watched him as much as he watched you.

He recognized the flips his heart did every time your eyes landed on him, just to avoid quickly and slip back into your character – the need of seeing you again being reinforced by those exact little glimpses towards his direction, a river rushing through his head, full of confused thoughts.

Still, he reminded himself not to get too carried away. After all, you were working, captivating the audience was your job, which you did gracefully, gorgeously, charmingly. And charmed he was, in every possible sense of the word.

By the second night, Heeseung arrived earlier than he planned, the excitement to see you again swelling in his chest. Though this time he wasn’t on the front-row either alone, he still got a great seat to see you.

“I can’t believe you liked the musical that much to see it again,” Sunoo teased with a small smile.

Heeseung’s cheeks warmed instantly, a faint blush decorating it as he avoided Sunoo’s glance, before saying. “Y–yeah, I liked the musical a lot. I had to see it again,” he offered an award laugh, looking down his lap.

“Right. The musical.”

Heeseung was about to respond when the lights began to dim, the known introductory instrumental and the storyteller started to play their roles. His heart skipped a beat as his head lifted, eyes following the actors entering the stage as they started to tell the plot.

Just like before, as soon as you stepped onto the stage, his eyes glued on your beautiful figure. You looked even prettier that day, although you didn’t change anything since last night.

For a millisecond your emotional eyes drifted quickly to the crowd and Heeseung’s breath hitched, eager for you to notice him in order to confirm his delusional state, or worse, do the reverse, making him understand he was looking at the situation using too much of his romantic side.

His seat was not an easy spot to see him, and somehow that comforted his inner self. If he was right about last night, you would catch his presence, his intense, focused, admiring orbs following your every move. Otherwise, he would give up on whatever he was feeling about you.

On the other hand, Heeseung barely knew you were having a strong internal debate every time you went backstage to get out of your scene after finishing it. Heeseung had no idea you were looking for him like crazy, the best way you could. Heeseung couldn’t even imagine you, out of all the actors, would be using your highlight time, singing, to search for his mysterious presence, pretending to look at the audience as you normally did.

And you found him during “Once Upon a December” as you expected to do, since it was your moment to sing facing the crowd.

Ironically enough, the exact time you sang the line “Someone holds me safe and warm”, you locked eyes with him – caught totally out of guard, your heart started thumping in your chest too fast for your liking as you widened your eyes, then quickly recomposed yourself and fluttered your eyelids shut, concentrating on singing your emotional song.

Somehow you got captivated by his mysterious, yet gentle aura, standing out so easily among the sea of people, offering you cute and genuine reactions, showering you with admiration. Like a magnet, you kept glimpsing at him, finding it, again, adorable, how he always held eye contact, seeming a bit surprised, and then shyly drifted away. Even after finishing your solo, you couldn’t divert your gaze.

Heeseung, however, was a total mess. He noticed everything, and as an automatic response his heart was pacing fast, his throat getting dry and his mind spinning. It couldn't be a coincidence that you glanced at him that often mid-performance.

“I might be crazy,” Sunoo whispered out of the blue, using the loud sound of the singers doing their performance to stifle his voice. “But is Y/N looking at us? Or better, at you?”

Heeseung drifted his bambi eyes to Sunoo and back to the stage, frowning. “You–”

“See! She did it again!” Due to his exasperated way of saying, his whisper sounded a bit high. Some people gave him a mad grimace, he huffed an embarrassed laugh.

"She's an actress. She probably looks at a hundred people like that every night," Heeseung explained with a low voice, trying to convince himself more than Sunoo.

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo grinned at his friend before returning to watch the play.

As expected, the musical ended gracefully after a few moments of tension and the story finished to be told. Your acting skills shone through you every move, captivating the audience until the last second.

The lights dimmed once more, and the applause echoed through the theater vigorously in appreciation for that amazing show. Heeseung standed up to clap along, not even hiding he was searching for you amidst the chaos. When the cast bowed to the crowd, looking at them after straightening up to face the audience, a last and steady eye contact was held before the curtains closed, leaving Heeseung speechless, mouth slightly agape.

“Even if she looks at everyone, she had some special eyes for you tonight.” Sunoo said low near to Heeseung’s ear, feeding all his thoughts.

Heeseung left the theater more confused than he expected, trying to figure out if the connection was true, or if all the world decided to trick his mind. In any case, he had one more day to untangle the blended strings of his sentiments, and maybe, if he was lucky enough, the last show would work differently from the other two.

You were removing your makeup on your hotel room desk, Yunjin sitting on your bed finishing her own skin care routine.

“I know this sound crazy and unprofessional, but last night there was a guy on the front-row–”

“The burgundy-haired guy! He couldn’t stop looking at you!” Yunjin cut you off, saying loudly and too excitedly.

Your head snapped towards her. “Burgundy– Wait, you’ve noticed him too!?” You asked flabbergasted, before going back to cleaning your skin, removing your makeup.

“Of course I did, he was almost eating you alive,” she said, rolling her eyes as she applied her skin toner. You looked at her again, but now with a shocked face, trying to figure out the meaning behind her phrase. “But with love. In a cute way!” She clarified after noticing your exaggerated reaction.

“I was afraid I was seeing things,” you frowned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you.

“Girl, definitely not,” she smirked. “If he shows up tomorrow again, please, for the sake of everything, get his number,” she demanded seriously and pointed to you with the bottle of the cream she held.

“Oh, of course I will,” you said with a layer of sarcasm, not holding back your grin. “I’ll jump off of the stage mid-performance, hand him a paper and ask for his number.”

Yunjin giggled, nudging you with wiggly eyebrows. “Maybe that’s the grand finale we all need.”

You chuckled at her response, however, your thoughts drifted back to the said burgundy-haired guy, the memory of his intense, pierce, yet lovingly eyes glued on you sending a small heat to your cheeks as you finished your skin care.

When you woke up the next morning, your stage manager demanded the presence of everyone in the theater way earlier than you expected for some practice time.

As the night approached, you found yourself now behind the big, red curtains with the buzz from the audience serving as a background. You stood in a corner of the backstage area, counting down from ten to one as a mental exercise to calm yourself.

The anxiety you felt wasn’t the usual thrilling excitement before entering the stage, the longing to shine as the main act from the night. No, this time it was mixed with something else.

There was a big chance the nameless guy would be in the audience once more, eyes glued on you like a magnet, attracting yours instinctively, in a way you didn’t found too pleasant still; a tall, strong barrier inside your chest making it difficult to ease things while working.

The familiar voice from Jay broke you out of your thoughts, interrupting your now inhale-exhale exercise.

“So, I’ve heard you’re changing your performance for today.” He said, voice laced with playfulness and curiosity.

You turned to face him, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“Get the number of the ‘burgundy-haired guy’?” His eyes sparkled with a mix of tease and amusement. “Or whatever Yunjin named him. Who uses burgundy as an everyday word?”

You shut your eyes close, finally understanding his words. “Ah.” You chuckled softly. “Yeah, the burgundy-haired guy.”

Jay laughed, warm and reassuring, placing both his hands on your shoulders so you wouldn’t avoid his gaze as you opened your eyes. “Invite him backstage today.”

Once again, you offered him a confused look, but now with a strong lack of confidence among it. His quick senses noticed your doubtful expression and added with a soft voice. “Y/N, you’re a human. You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Even if it’s about someone from the audience.”

You kept looking at Jay’s gentle eyes, not even a hint of judgment behind them. “Ok,” you said in response, nodding slowly before a smile tempted to curve into your lips. “Better option than jumping on him mid-performance to ask for his number.”

Heeseung had finished watching you for the third time, doing the exact same things, singing the exact same songs, saying the exact same lines, with the exact same props and cast.

Still he experienced shivers down his spine once you sang “Once Upon a December”, a song that quickly crawled his ranking of your performances, topping all of the others. Not only that, you also seemed way confident today.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was getting flustered.

You didn’t care much about being obvious with your glances at him that night, sustaining eye contact longer than he expected. Heeseung felt that you were performing for him only, just like he watched you as if you were the only person on the stage.

You both shared an unspeakable connection in between the play – you, keeping as professional as possible; while Heeseung tried not to run away from your sharp, intriguing gaze.

Despite your initial nervousness, especially without knowing if the mysterious guy would appear again, feeding your anticipation inside your chest as you entered the stage, it took less than minutes for your eyes to find him, sitting on the side, giving you a small, shy smile.

You made no effort to contain your heartbeats increasing each time your eyes met, allowing your body to feel the wave of euphoria running through it, regardless of your hesitant thoughts about being unprofessional.

Whenever your character demonstrated happy emotions, with your lips curving into a smile, you searched for him as though you were smiling at him. Same thing when you sang some specific lines, searching from his sweet orbs following your figure already. Although the concept of the musical wasn’t necessarily romantic nor suggestive, there were some gaps you could use to your advantage, and you did.

By the end of your last performance in Seoul, you smiled brightly and big at the crowd, thanking them alongside your crewmates, bowing and waving goodbye; the known sense of accomplishment flowing into your veins, now blended with the excitement for your next move.

As you walked your way out of the stage, before the big curtains fully closed, lights already dim in the stage but bright on the seats side, you searched once more for the man who had charmed you. He was also making his way out of the theater, your heart pounding in despair as if you were about to lose him.

But like you attracted him through your intense staring, he looked back directly at you. Boldly, you offered a shy smile, biting your lips hesitantly before grabbing your manager's arm and sneakily pointing out to who you wanted to meet backstage.

Heeseung’s heart raced as he watched the ongoing scene, mind unable to wrap a full comprehension about why you and some stranger were staring at him, even scanning his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t seeing things – like maybe you were looking out for some other person. Then he noticed you pointing and the other strange nodding, as if they finally understood your intentions, almost mouthering an “oh”.

Heeseung tilted his head, swallowing hard as a slight frown formed when he saw you vanishing behind the closed curtains, leaving him to deal with his puzzled brain alone. He blinked a few times, then shrugged to himself, putting his hands in his jacket’s pocket, even shaking his head trying to recompose.

As he took the exit direction with the rest of the people, a security guard suddenly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder, saying in a low tone. "Sir, you’ve been requested backstage."

Heeseung was unsure if he heard correctly.

"Backstage? Me?" He stammered, mouth slightly open and bambi eyes full of confusion. Did he do something wrong?

The guard nodded and motioned to him. “Follow me, please.”

Heeseung legs felt like jelly following the random guard into the said backstage, a blurred motion of his surroundings as the crew passed by, some removing the props off the stage, many others wandering around, and then he recognized the actors from the musical talking in between themselves, loud laughters echoing through the small area, some with their stage clothes on.

Then he saw you.

Still wearing parts of your outfit, smiling radiantly while chatting with someone he made no effort to identify – his body perked up with the sight of you, his whole being drawn like a magnet.

He barely noticed the guard was long gone by now, leaving him standing awkwardly with mingled feelings he couldn't figure out yet. Bewilderment was a euphemism to describe it.

You seemed even prettier now than under the spotlight, shining on the stage. You seemed natural, although you still had makeup and pieces of your exaggerated royal costume on.

As you sensed the intensity of his stare, you turned, eyes locking immediately with Heeseung’s. The spark he would often feel when watching you perform ignited again, hands trembling, heart painfully resonating loud on his ears as the whole world seemed to fade out when you started to walk into his direction.

He was so in awe he didn’t notice you were hesitant, your movements appearing to be slowed down in his vision.

“Hi.” You said softly as you reached closer, biting your lower lip to suppress your excited smile, afraid of scaring the guy off.

Your gaze wandered his face, taking in his gorgeous features; adorable bambi eyes showing you an entire night sky full of stars, cheeks with a faint blush, cherry lips slightly parted. Unnecessarily attractive.

If you paid close attention, you would perceive how his ears also were painted in a light shade of red.

“Hi.” He breathed out in an astonished way, a sweet voice that made your stomach do a flip.

“I’m sorry for bringing you here so suddenly.” You started, and although you felt a small heat in your cheeks, you didn’t broke eye contact. “I– Honestly, I was afraid of losing sight of you,” you grinned shyly. “I’ve noticed you in the audience for the past two days and today as well.” You explained, after receiving nothing in response. “I wondered what got you so invested,” and then you chuckled, forcely agreeing that your choice of words was enough to clarify – for sure it wasn’t, but you decided to deal with whatever consequences later.

Heeseung blinked with the new piece of information that entered his brain, perplexed by how sincere you worded it.

“You noticed me?” He could feel his heart faltering some beats and then fastening again, totally desynchronized. Gladly he could figure out something to say, since his throat felt like closing.

“Yeah, quite hard not to when you look at me so intensely with your beauti– with your eyes,” you tried to sound chill and playful to ease things, making it less awkward. However, the way you spoke seemed a bit too flirty, not to mention you almost let a compliment slip out of your mouth, and he blushed harder, chuckling.

“I didn’t mean to stare. I mean, you’re an actress of course you’re used to that, but I recognize I might have crossed the line,” he was strong in maintaining his eyes on you, but the way you were looking through your eyelashes, blinking slowly, so prettily right in front of him, broke down his confidence – in a good, amazing way. Everything feeling like a fever dream.

You giggled, loving how you were affecting him, just as much as he was messing you. Before you could say anything, he added with a small shrug.

“I just got captivated by you.” And he went back into locking his eyes with yours.

Now it was your time to get a bit flustered, still, you held it together just before reuniting all the forces you found internally to say your next words.

“You’ve crossed no lines,” you smiled. “And I’ve got captivated by you.”

You watched how his Addam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the tension on his body loosening slightly, his timid smile spreading gradually wider as though your words unlocked something different deep within him. Somehow, you got even curious about what he could show you.

“May I ask your name?”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung,” he responded, offering you his hand. Your eyes followed the movement as you gave him a sheepish grin, grabbing his warm palm, the touch lingering enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied playfully, making him laugh, holding hands still.

His eyes turned into small crescents as he did so, his soft chuckle resonating beautifully in your ears. For some random reason, your heart started to beat faster, an interesting feeling spreading all over your chest, making you sigh.

“You were incredible up there,” Heeseung said after you both let each other’s hands go, blocking the awkwardness from establishing in between you two.

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow and your lips curved into a smirk, knowing very much you did amazing, but a compliment from a gorgeous man like that easily ruined your confidence and contradictory, at the same time, it flattered your ego. “Thank you.” You said, right before analyzing you and Heeseung were standing in the middle of nowhere inside the backstage of the theater, so you gently grabbed his arm and dragged him with you to a corner.

Heeseung just followed you, in trance with your beauty, with your presence, with you. He also observed that your normal voice sounded quite different from when you were on stage. Endearing, if he dared to say.

As you reached a quieter corner, you let go from his arm and leaned into the wall, curiosity filling your eyes as you bit your lower lip.

“Sorry about that,” you said with a small, awkward chuckle. “Didn’t want us to block the path,” you nodded to where you were before.

“No problem,” Heeseung replied, still processing the sudden pull, the phantom of your warm touch still tingling on his skin.

“So, besides me,” you said, crossing your arms in front of you, a hint of playfulness glinting in your eyes. “What did you think of ‘Anastasia’?”

Heeseung let out a chuckle, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lips as he took a moment to answer.

“I loved every bit of it,” his voice dropped slightly and his gaze deepened. Although the known tenderness seemed to be mingled with it, there were more layers on it. “But I have to admit. You were my main focus.”

You giggled again. Second time in just a few minutes together. Heeseung actually felt like going to heaven and back to earth with the sound of your giggles, having to physically stop himself from his hands touching you, caressing your adorable blushed cheeks or landing on your hips.

“You flatter me,” you said sheepishly, uncrossing your arms. “But I’m sure I wasn’t that distracting, Heeseung.”

His name sounded so much more beautiful in your voice – the way you said it was magnetic, with a hint of sensuality and teasing, making his heart skip several beats.

“You definitely were, Y/N.” He opted to play in your game, taking a step closer, recognizing the change of the atmosphere between you two.

You also were aware of the shift in the air, allowing your flirty, shameless part to shine brighter during the conversation. “I think I owe you a proper thank you for being such an attentive audience member.”

Heeseung’s smile slowly faded out, his eyes softening and growing more intense, half-lidded with anticipation as you reached to hold his hand.

“How do you plan on doing that?” He asked, husky voice tickling your stomach, his fingers sweetly playing with yours.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your nervousness evident as you replied, “Would you mind waiting for me to change? It’ll take about an hour...”

“Absolutely not,” he eagerly replied, eyes lightening up with expectation. Then he lifted your hand until his lips touched it and placed a tender kiss, as an unspoken promise he would wait for you. “I’ll be right here. Take your time.”

The soft press of his lips on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth spreading directly into your heart making your pulse race.

Unwillingly, you released his brief, yet electrifying touch, offering a flustered grin and a reassuring nod while the anticipation grew within you. As you turned towards the changing room, you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your back, never once losing sight of you.

Yunjin met you there, more excited than you by your supposed date, to which you shut down right away saying it wasn’t a date. Despite your complaints, she kept her usual cheerful energy, helping you to undo your hairstyle as you removed your makeup, just to apply something more natural and less theatrical. You took a quick shower, as the heavy stage clothes and intense movements during the performance had left you feeling sweaty and disheveled.

Despite rushing your time, the fear that Heeseung might already be long gone was rapidly sinking in, so you hurried your steps out of the changing room when you finished your things, walking back to where you left him.

You let out a relieved sigh as you saw his figure happily talking with one of your friends, now with his back facing you.

“Oh, so you already met Jay.” You greeted them with a smile.

Heeseung averted his attention to your approach, your fresh sprayed perfume infiltrating his airways. He took his time to check you out shamelessly with his pretty bambi eyes filled with a perfect mixture of adoration and something darker.

“Yeah, he did.” Jay nodded with a smile, before leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “He seems pretty great, Y/N. Amazing choice,” and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, walking away after saying a quick goodbye.

You felt your cheeks heating up with your friend's words, a faint blush decorating the area, to which Heeseung noticed right away.

“You look beautiful.” He said softly, loving how casual you wore yourself; loose black shirt, baggy jeans and black converse.

Your natural look would always be his favorite – he wouldn’t admit that easy, but he stalked your instagram like crazy during the first days, so he was aware of a few things about your visual. However, no one prepared his heart to face it so closely, your beauty glowing even stronger now.

“Thank you.”

He got startled when you kindly took his hand with yours, pulse racing with the sudden intimate touch. Nonetheless, he was loving every second of it, fearlessly lacing your fingers, paying close attention to your reaction. As he expected, you smiled sheepishly.

“Would it be disappointing that my suggestion is a private bar near here, so we can drink and talk?” You hesitantly asked as you started to head towards the exit.

“Of course not.” Heeseung shot you with one of his sweet, reassuring glances. “I would go anywhere with you.”

You chuckled, unconsciously squeezing his hand as you tried to run from his flirty eyes. “You shouldn’t say things you can’t carry out.” You said, teasingly.

You both reached out of the theater using the back exit, avoiding the public so you could have some privacy. Being famous had its perks, but also a lot of downs, the lack of privacy being one of them. Nonetheless, you loved each individual part of it; since the beginning of your career you built a good community. In your relationship with your fans, you constantly reinforced yours and theirs boundaries.

“You think I can’t?” He quirked an eyebrow, a sly smirk taking place on his cherry lips. You couldn’t help but focus on how Heeseung appeared even more handsome under the city’s nightlights, sharp lines being evidenced while the fresh breeze messed up his burgundy hair. “Should I prove you wrong, then?”

You got a bit taken aback with his sudden confidence, yet, you loved to see this new side of him blooming with you, allowing yourself to indulge in the game as much as you were enjoying the player.

“Well,” you began to talk. “You have three days before I head to the next city.”

Although Heeseung’s chest tightened with your unexpected reality shock, reminding him that you were a busy woman, and traveling a lot was a enormous part of your work, he decided to enjoy your presence as much as you let him to, instead of overthinking about your soon departure.

Heeseung waited for you for months, he would wait for more if he needed to.

His smile softened, still, his eyes sparkled by your subtle challenge. “Three days, huh? I’ll have to make them unforgettable then.”

You laughed, his words sending a pleasantly thrill in your core, excited with his promise.

“Isn’t that too much pressure?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I like a challenge,” Heeseung shot back, playful voice laced with something deeper, almost daring.

You giggled at his response, only now noticing he hadn’t let go of your hand since the beginning. Initially, you were apprehensive about the intimate touch, but Heeseung’s presence stirred a surprising sense of ease within you. His effortless way of breaking through your barriers made you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, dissolving your reservations with a natural grace.

You wondered if it was because he seemed genuine with his actions, since the very first night offering you such sweet glances and admiration eyes.

During your walk, you could see through his kind actions how respectful and caring he was, switching places with you so he was the one on the road side of the sidewalk, letting you walk in front of him whenever the space was narrowed by the flush of people, and mostly just by letting you to talk without interruptions.

Despite Heeseung’s ability of lowering your defenses, you still had some difficult thoughts about allowing it too much. A strong part of you were afraid of giving other people’s free access to your private life. You wished Heeseung could prove to you he was worth it.

You reached the bar quicker than you expected, your relaxed chat filling up the walk as you discovered some of Heeseung’s personal traits and that he worked in the entertainment industry, being the one behind the scenes in the marketing area for some brands. Also you find out that his favorite hobby was to play on his computer during his free time and watch random youtube videos.

Since you knew the place, you chose a recluse seat near the corners, where no one could see you both having your intimate time together.

“I have to be honest,” Heeseung said after he sat down, facing you. “I’ve been in Seoul for God’s know how long, and I have never seen this bar.”

You laughed, grabbing the menu, your hungriness screaming in your stomach.

“I love it here.” You smiled. “It’s very private and not many people are allowed to enter. Actually, if I’m not mistaken, it’s kind of an artist type of place? Like famous people and, I don’t know, CEOs come here.” You explained, Heeseung nodding to your words.

Heeseung was so thrilled with the whole experience of getting to know you better. He had always envisioned you as an idol-like figure. Your unreachable, distant persona, unallowing his mind to go further than watching you on stage.

Ironically enough, the natural side you showed so far warmed his heart even more. Your bold humor, your confident actions, how your eyes lit up when you talked about your job and interests – everything working perfectly to make it harder not to fall for you.

Seeing you out of the actress aura, in a more relaxed and genuine setting, only deepened his fascination. The charm you once threw at him increased gradually as he felt his heart fluttering with your laughter and easy talk.

You both got along like it was meant to be.

“I actually became interested in musicals because of you,” he admitted after some chatting, sipping the non-alcoholic drink he ordered.

“How come?” You asked, interested in the story, biting your pajeon.

One thing you loved about your job was to hear people’s stories of how they got interested in musicals. You’ve heard many, some because of their parents, some due to curiosity, others because of seeing it online.

However, Heeseung’s one was a bit… Different from what you expected.

“Oh,” Heeseung expressed with a shy smile, lowering his eyes to his glass, playing with the border of it. You cocked your head to the side, wondering why he went silent after your question. “I kinda…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the movement neatly noticed by you. “Fell for your aura, y’know?” He tried his best not to say he fell for you. “Your voice is amazing. And you looked so confident.”

You blinked slowly with a bright smile, loving to see his flustered self gathering all the resources in his body trying not to be so obvious, although his eyes never lied to you. Heeseung’s words and the way his body was reacting unlocked something bold inside your chest.

You were about to speak, thanking him for his appreciation or whatever your mind could come up with, but he continued.

“The first time I watched a musical was when you did Tangled,” Heeseung was doing his best not to look at your eyes, afraid of losing his inner battle and saying what he wasn’t planning to. “I was accompanying a friend that loves you.”

“Oh,” You said excitedly, a smirk on your lips. You raised your glass and clinked it with his. “Cheers to your friend then.” You laughed at his confused reaction, now finally looking at you with his blushed cheeks, unnecessarily adorable. “Thanks to him, we met. Isn’t that right?”

A darker shade of red painted his cheeks as he smiled bashfully.

“I think we can say that, yeah.” He nodded, taking a good sip of his drink, bambi eyes following your movements.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with what Heeseung read as mischief, making his heart falter some beats.

“So you’re saying you’re a fan of mine now?” You teased, biting your lip shamelessly as your eyes drifted to Heeseung’s cherry ones. The alcohol in your veins facilitating not only your words to come out, but your actions to be bolder.

Heeseung got initially stunned by your not so subtle flirting, pulse increasing fast. Then he decided to get on your game, purposely wetting his lips just to watch your gaze tracking motion of it.

“Definitely a fan of yours, Y/N.” He smirked, also leaning in, your faces close enough for your breaths to slightly mingle.

“And you’re devoted too. Attentively paying attention to me…” You purred, tilting your head to the side as your eyes softened, totally switching the atmosphere between you too once more.

Something about the way Heeseung was attractive, had a good talk and seemed to be loving spending that small time with you, was stirring with you, to the point of you moving uncomfortable on your chair because the way he seemed to be so kissable right now was driving you insane.

Heeseung had his lips slightly agape and glistening due to his recent sip, hooded eyes analyzing your expression with adoration and wanting, as if he wasn’t afraid of showing off his feelings anymore. You appeared to be more interested in what he could offer than he was captivated by you, allowing Heeseung to gradually become confident.

His gaze lingered on your lips, the corners of his mouth twitching into a sly smirk.

“My car is parked in the theater parking lot.” He murmured, looking around before standing up just to sit on your side – you didn’t knew if it was purposeful, but the way he positioned himself covered your figure, so no one would recognize you. “Can I take you somewhere more private?” He took the chance to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You were flabbergasted by his sudden caring gesture, albeit intrigued by the boldness in his eyes. A small breath escaped your lips as your heart started to beat fast.

“Somewhere more private?” You echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung nodded, now gently brushing his thumb on your cheek, heating the area.

“Only if you want to.” He added, his voice dropping down a tone, eyes locked into yours.

Your whole body got electrified by the amazing sensations Heeseung was making you go through.

“Take the lead, pretty boy.” You voiced out as you moved your head just enough to plant a small, tender kiss on his palm.

Your words were all it took for Heeseung to ask for the check, and didn't let you pay for your food and drink when he did so, despite your objections. You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the way he took charge so effortlessly, as if the thought of you paying for that night never crossed his mind.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to be around the theater still. Is it ok for me to go get my car and then I pick you up here?” As if he hadn’t been a gentleman enough throughout the night, he questioned before you could stand up, taking your privacy into consideration for his decisions.

“Sounds great.” You answered, forcing your body not to overreact and your voice to sound as normal as you could. “But how do I know you won’t leave me hanging?” You questioned cheekily, though there was a hint of insecurity in your voice. After all, Heeseung could be the most captivating man in the world, but you had only known him for a few hours.

“You have to trust me,” he said, throwing you a quick cocky wink paired with a smirk as he made his way out of the bar, longing his gaze on you before disappearing from the main door.

Heeseung had no idea how those simple words and gestures affected you. Crossing your legs did little to calm the rush of feelings surging through your core.

You sighed, grabbing your phone to message Yunjin about the change of plans. She was way more excited than you, making you laugh as you typed you probably wouldn’t sleep at the hotel with her that night.

Anyway, you were also making sure someone in your circle of friends knew your whereabouts. Again, being famous had its downs, and dealing with creepy people was on the list as well.

You waited sitting for a few minutes before going outside, since you didn’t wanted Heeseung to make the effort of turning off his car to announce he was waiting for you. Gladly, there were a small number of people outside, and you stood near to the security guard just in case.

You spotted a black car pulling up in front of where you were standing after a while, the window rolling down revealing Heeseung on the driver’s seat with a small smile.

“Hey,” your lips curved into a relieved smile and you opened the door to enter the car.

Heeseung felt bad for being unable to do that for you since he had stopped in a traffic place where he couldn’t stop for too long. Instantly you sent your live location to Yunjin, just to be safe.

“I know I was the one who brought up finding a more private place,” he started, a bit uncertain. “But do you have any place in mind?”

His question made you think for a while. Your hotel was out of question, since Yunjin was sleeping there too.

“I don’t wanna take you to my place right away.” He added quickly. “Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t feel you would be as comfortable there…” He trailed off, glancing at you for a millisecond.

“Because you know your place better than me.” You completed, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smirk tugging the corner of your lips.

“Exactly.”

“Are you a stalker or just a perfect gentleman?” You asked with curiosity and playfulness.

Heeseung let out a hearty, loud laugh, filling up the inside of his car as he ignored how his stomach did a flip about being a perfect gentleman in your eyes.

“Neither, I hope.” He chuckled, looking at you warmly when he stopped in one red light.

You smiled, enjoying how at ease you became around him, the blended seductive and playful atmosphere around you two building up the ideal scenery for you to fall for Heeseung.

On the other hand, Heeseung wasn’t different. Slightly afraid of scaring you or making you uncomfortable, but still, loving the way you expressed yourself so vividly, making him laugh every second.

“So… We’re going…?” He sweetly asked after your silence, waiting for your suggestion.

What Heeseung didn’t expect was to see your whole face lit up with seductive playfulness, the anticipation building up before you spoke, your velvety, low voice sending signals straight to his core, as your eyes drenched him in lust.

“Anywhere we can have a bed, Heeseung.”

Heeseung didn’t let you pay for the chosen hotel room as well, to which your body reacted instantly as the heat increased, your desire dripping out your eyes as you devoured him shamelessly.

His impeccable manners were almost too good to be true, being such a gentleman during the night, leading the way, but only after your consent, after asking you, after you taking the decisions. He listened to your wants and found a solution easily, a characteristic you found extremely attractive.

It was incredibly refreshing to find a man like him, so devoted to making you feel like a queen, allowing you to simply relax and enjoy yourself without you having to ask for it.

Now, however, you needed him to solve another problem, the one in which your arousal had left your panties dampened and you restless.

Seeing his charismatic interaction with the worker as nonchalantly doing the check-in, the smile after thanking them, the skilful hands grabbing his wallet, his eyes switching from tenderness to raw desire when landing them on you. Heeseung was clearly struggling to contain his eagerness to take you to an intimate setting as soon as possible. His restraintment was driving you wild, intensifying your anticipation.

How were you being so affected by that? Also, you weren’t one to hook up on your first meeting – not even calling it a date, since it was a rushed last minute type of situation.

Then you remembered. Heeseung had built up the perfect atmosphere for you both since the very first day you saw him.

His beaming expression, eyes glued on you, showing genuine enchantment by your performance and now, you understood, by your beauty as well. You felt more than flattered to charm someone so hot and attentive as him.

His easy going personality and the way he acted like a true man, demonstrating to genuinely care about you, made a perfect blend of your ideal type – you didn’t even knew you had one until now.

As soon as you entered the elevator, it took one simple glance from Heeseung for you to attach your lips on his, shivering at the sweet taste of his mouth as your hands searched for support on his shoulders.

He got taken aback by your sudden decision, but didn’t hesitate to reciprocate your touch, eager for more since day one. Oh, he was in heaven by the way you were falling apart right in front of his eyes, because he, himself, was drowning in your presence since the beginning.

His mannerism around you was flawless, how he positioned his hands respectfully on your waist instead of lower, making you smirk in between the rushed kiss, totally contradictory to how his tongue passionately searched for yours to deepen the touch.

There were no words being spoken at that moment, but so much was being vocalized through his hitched breath and your soft moans, the ones that made Heeseung’s dick twitch in his pants.

“Fuck,” he groaned and threw his head back when you deattached your mouth just to kiss other parts of his exposed skin.

In no moment you wondered if it was a set up, because if so, Heeseung was a better actor than you. There was no way he was faking his reactions while your lips sucked the flesh of his neck vigorously, as if your life depended on it, not even caring about marking the area as you did so.

Both of you shared the same thinking: the door needs to open soon, otherwise the elevator cameras would be filming something very intimate.

Heeseung went back to kissing you, already addicted to your taste, sucking your tongue and lip fervently just to hear your sounds once again. You scratched his nape with your fingernails when you finally heard the sound of the door opening, both of you giggling in between the kiss since none of you decided to move away, stumbling your steps until you reached the room door.

Heeseung positioned your back against the wall just to skilfully unlock the entrance, pushing you against the door to open and closing it back with his feet.

You took no time to appreciate the beauty of the room, eagerly waiting for the moment the back of your knee would hit the bed and you would finally have Heeseung hovering you the way you wished the most.

You removed Heeseung’s jacket and tossed it at some random place on the floor before he maneuvered your body when you reached the soft mattress, so you could lay comfortably – his strong grip on your thigh and hip sending jolts of excitement to your core as you gasped for air, but never once completely breaking the contact of his sultry, hot mouth against yours.

He wasted no second to position himself over you, the weight of his body pressing yours in an electrifying way, his lips only backing away to place rough kisses on your neck, nibbling your ear lobe as his fingers infiltrated your shirt to touch the bare skin of your stomach.

Your body reacted instantly with the amount of stimulus, arching into him, yearning more and more of his heated hands and mouth working wonders on you. Instinctively, your fingers tugged his beautiful strands of hair while pulling him down, closer, inciting Heeseung to continue his assault on your sensitive flesh.

However, as your impatience grew, so did your desire.

“Heeseung…” You breathed out, panties already ruined by how wet you were.

“Hm?” He murmured, trailing kisses until he reached your mouth again, his hands still heating the area of your waist as he caressed it painfully slowly, giving you a rush of chills.

You kissed him back, then pushed him away by pulling his hair, searching for his now darkened eyes, filled with lust and a small hint of the usual tenderness towards you. You watched how his gaze switched between your lips, your eyes and other areas of your face, as if he was memorizing every feature of yours to keep them as a personal picture.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” you whispered with your voice rich with desire, your heavy breaths mingling with Heeseung’s in an intimate way you didn’t expect to feel with him so easily.

He chuckled at himself, blinking slowly as he bit his lower lip, hooded eyelids demonstrating how far gone for you he already was, lost in his pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, planting a sweet kiss on each of your cheeks. “You just feel too good.”

And he wasn’t lying.

The way your body reacted to all of his touches so far was driving him instantly to hell and back to earth, his own skin tingling with a hunger he never felt before just by hearing your small, beautiful sounds. Heeseung wished to stop time and have you like that for the rest of his life, even if it sounded exaggerated and premature. He developed feelings for you long enough to have his mind working in that way, yearning for every bit of you, with his sharp gaze catching all of your reactions as he always did.

“I want to enjoy every second I have with you.” Heeseung admitted genuinely. You noticed the top of his ears turning into a cute shade of red.

“You can do that,” you reassured, downing your hands from his hair to his shoulders and then to his strong arms, almost moaning after feeling them tensing under your touch. “But please,” you pleaded firmly with a low voice, squeezing his biceps. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a small nod, a sly grin and a brief peck on your lips, Heeseung sat on his knees, the hands once under your shirt just brushing slightly the area, glided slowly over your skin as he moved to undress the fabric off of your body.

He searched for your gaze before moving forward. “Are you sure about that?” He had stopped himself mid-action for your consentment, and you couldn’t help but smile, finding adorable his respectfulness with you, despite the obvious shared intense, almost tangible, desire.

“Totally.”

After your word he finally removed your shirt, leaving your upper body covered only with your bra.

You shivered under his lascivious gaze, devouring you shamelessly with a satisfied smirk. He looked drunk as he approached again, brushing his lips on your collarbone and then near your breasts, playing with it over the clothing piece teasingly, looking up at you with his big bambi eyes showing a faux innocence.

The fresh contact of his mouth and tongue against new parts of your body made you arch your back again, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation. You felt his hands working its way to free your boobs and when he finally did, you moaned in relief.

“Fuck,” he groaned with a small, attractive frown, as if he was mad with your beauty. “You look perfect.”

You fluttered your eyes open, catching a sight of how dedicated Heeseung was sucking your hardened nipple while his hand massaged the other, eventually switching sides to give both equal treatment, and you also caught him already looking at you, savoring each of your reactions.

Little did you know that while tasting you, he was also engraving into his memory those raw, genuine expressions, so different from the ones he had seen when you were on stage, acting.

You managed to reach for the hem of his beige shirt, teasing to slide them off. He noticed right away your attempt and quickly helped you by sitting on his knees and undressing himself, revealing to your hungry eyes his slightly tanned torso, his muscles tensing as he moved to toss the clothing piece to the ground.

Heeseung got shy under your thirsty gaze, but how could you look at him any other way? His body seemed flawless under the room’s dim light, broad shoulders, biceps and chest with just the right amount of muscles. Not to mention the silver chain necklace adorning his neck, which you found particularly attractive, and his gorgeously messy hair.

“You’re so fucking hot, Heeseung.” You murmured with sincerity, your fingers trailing over his arms, feeling the firm texture beneath your touch.

The room appeared to shrink, the air getting thicker as your respiration accelerated with the view. The anticipation to feel all those parts pressing flush against yours grew, a thrill of excitement running throughout your body straight to your cunt.

Heeseung acted out of instinct after your praise, as if upon realizing your desire mirrored his own, the carefulness, the gentleness he was cherishing to give you during the night instantly vanished just to be replaced by the raw yearning of being inside you.

Of course he would still listen to your demands, there was a vivid part of him willing to give you the affection you deserved. However, by the way you cheekily smiled and how your gaze sharpened after him yanking his own jeans and then yours, he knew how you wanted it to happen.

Heeseung brushed his painfully hardened dick on your thigh as he reached for your mouth, kissing you fervently while one of his hands explored your clothed pussy. He moaned against your lips when you purposely slightly moved your leg to grace his cock with a bit more of friction, as a way of thanking him for rubbing your pulsing clit over your panties.

It was a shared intimate touch covering the visceral need of fucking you for good, his inner battle going on about how to treat you, since your non-verbal answer – lustful eyes and smile – didn’t meant much to him to be certain within his decision.

“Heeseung,” you moaned, grinding against the skilful fingers making circles on your clit, the fabric preventing you from feeling them directly on your pussy, making you annoyed. “I want you, stop teasing me.” You demanded, and instantly Heeseung moved his head to the curve of your neck, gently kissing it while pushing your panties to the side to start fingering you.

He collected a bit of your arousal on your slick folds, literally moaning just by the feeling of his digits sliding with ease on your pussy, pressing your entrance with one and then two, loving to hear your beautiful whimpers.

Heeseung supported himself with one arm just to watch your pleasant frown, your mouth slightly agape, your breath hitching, eyes fluttered shut.

“You look so fucking beautiful right now,” he admitted in a low, husky tone, sending shivers to your spine.

You opened your eyes, a sly smile adorning your lips as you said. “Imagine how beautiful I’ll be with your cock instead of your finger, then.”

Heeseung’s dick twitched against your thigh with your words. You observed his eyes darkening even more, taking in the challenge as his life depended on it, barely giving you time to process him removing all the clothing pieces from both of you, offering the gorgeous view of his reddened and extremely hard shaft, tip dripping precum.

Your mouth watered, but you ignored your sudden urge of sucking him, since your biggest want was to have that dick inside of you as soon as possible.

You tracked his movements with your eyes, a low groan escaping from your throat as you watched Heeseung put on the condom and pump his length a few times. The vein of his arm popped due to the motion, making you wonder how hot he would look desperately touching himself, a thought you opted to keep to yourself for now.

“I hope you don’t hold back.” You provoked, quivering beneath his heated body as he positioned himself to enter you, supporting himself with one arm as your hands found its comfort on his shoulders.

Heeseung looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

His words only fueled the fire between you, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he aligned himself perfectly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You’ve set the pace,” he murmured, low voice dripping with desire. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled as a response to his dirty and teasing words, a soft moan escaping your lips as he started to fill you up so perfectly. But Heeseung gave you no time to savor it properly, beginning to thrust deep and hard, yet agonizingly slow, as if he was messing with you right after your explicit request. The playful glint in his eyes made it clear how delighted he was by setting the rhythm, toying your pussy just how he wanted, enjoying a bit too much the show of the changes in your facial expressions.

“You feel so fucking good,” Heeseung sighed with a pleasant frown.

Your walls clenching around his sensitive dick was driving him insane, the euphoria to fuck you harder and faster rising in his chest, albeit he did his best to control it because he had two goals that night. First, to experience you in every possible way, and second, to make sure you never forgot just how incredible he could be at it.

You wanted to curse Heeseung’s pace, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t enjoying every second of his slowness, how it allowed you to feel each inch of his cock deliciously sliding inside you, delaying your run towards your relief.

Heeseung attached his lips on yours while keeping the deliberated grind, a passionate kiss mingled with your soft moans and hitched breaths.

There was something about the way he was treating your body with such devotion, taking his sweet time to taste your mouth while feeling your pussy sliding on his length, gradually learning exactly how to satisfy you.

His hands caressed your skin with affection, sensing it shivering under his contact, then he shot you a playful look, repositioning himself on his knees as he grabbed a pillow to place it under your waist, opening and slightly lifting your legs, in a way to give him easy and full access to hit you deeper.

You whimpered by the instant amazing feeling of Heeseung finding your g-spot right away, his face lighting up with the new information you just gave him without uttering a single word besides his name within moans.

“F–fuck, Heeseung–” Your broken voice and the desperation in your eyes served as the final push for Heeseung to lose control and speed his thrusts, your knuckles turning white with your strong grip on the sheets.

You let out a sequence of whimpers, groans, moans, whatever sounds you were able to make, entirely lost in your lustful pleasure, your whole body shaking on the bed as Heeseung frantically and intensely moved his hips.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d make your days unforgettable,” Heeseung’s husky, confident voice triggered a new wave of ecstasy throughout you.

You winced underneath him, fully unable to say cohesive words. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolled back right before fluttering shut within a frown. The lewd slaps sounds of him pounding roughly on your pussy making you completely dizzy, his urgent rhythm driving you close to the edge.

Heeseung’s breathing was heavy and erratic, filling the room together with your loud moans as he pushed you near to the brink of release, his hands squeezing whatever part of your legs he touched, your own hips unconsciously grinding to meet his rhythm.

The knot on your stomach tightened gradually, and Heeseung’s pace became unsteady. The small piece of your mind that still worked correctly deduced Heeseung was just as close as you to his own climax, so you tightened your walls purposely and opened your eyes just in the right time to catch a glimpse of Heeseung throwing back his head, consumed by his pleasure; his flushed neck glistening in sweat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he moaned, the fucking chain necklace dangling.

“Hee– close–” You tried to warn, you really did. But the whole moment got you overwhelmed in the bestest way possible. You barely had strength to think, let alone talk.

Heeseung snapped out of his blurry bliss with your voice echoing in his ears. His eyes searched for you right away, instantly moaning at the view of you, perfectly messy, falling apart, just for him to see.

He leaned forward, decreasing the distance between your torsos. Without a second thought, your hands roamed over his firm, strong arms until you reached his nape, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, as though your body naturally gravitated towards him, like a magnet.

Neither of you could keep on the kiss, Heeseung’s head falling besides yours as your fingernails scratched his back, the urge of your so close orgasm making you desperate.

“Please–” You pleaded without much thinking, legs evolving Heeseung’s waist trying to help his erratic movements.

“Come for me, yeah?” He murmured against your ear, holding back his own release just to feel your walls clenching him while achieving your orgasm. “Come for me like a good girl.”

And you did. Screaming his name, digging your nails on his skin, waving your body as the surge of your breathtaking climax rushed over it.

You felt Heeseung’s dick throbbing right before he filled up the condom with his release together with the beautifulest moan of the night, the one where he said your name lasciviously, hoarse and intimate in your ear.

Heeseung’s exhausted body collapsed on yours, his sweaty skin clinging to you and yet you gave no care. Your focus was on catching your breath, trying to ground yourself with your sight still hazy from the intensity of your climax.

“Holy shit,” you managed to whisper as you kept panting.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung immediately replied, a small hint of guilt hidden in his husky voice.

“For giving me the best orgasm of my life?” You breathed out, chuckling. The post-orgasm high made you feel like jelly.

He laughed. The sound warming your chest and also helping you to calm down quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” Heeseung questioned with concern, looking at you.

You shook your head in response and he smiled. Your hooded eyes followed Heeseung’s gorgeous figure, going quickly to the bathroom to discard the condom and back to the bed, laying down next to you.

“I wasn’t planning on going that hard with you at first, but–”

“Yes, you were.” You interrupted with a playful smile. “And I’m glad you did. It was amazing, Heeseung,” the compliment slipped out of your mouth with ease as you caressed his hair and then his face.

Heeseung let out what sounded like a relieved sigh, as he pressed a peck on your cheek, then the corner of your lips before sucking your lower lip and kissing you properly.

“It was my pleasure, Y/N.” He whispered against your mouth, kissing you again with a sweetness that seemed impossible after what just happened, but you knew it was real, because he offered you the same tenderness since day one through his eyes.

You found yourself snuggling on his chest and he hugged you warmly. There was something in Heeseung's acts that exhaled intimacy in a way it scared you, knowing deep down if he kept treating you like that, you would inevitably grow attached to his presence.

You got lost in your thoughts for a while, torn in between the warmth of his body touching you with care and the sinking feeling of his inevitable departure. Although Heeseung seemed to be an amazing man, nothing would stop him from simply leaving, especially when there was no mention of commitment from any of you or whatsoever.

Nonetheless, Heeseung's connection with you appeared to grow stronger each second you spent together, because his first words after the long silence were “Can I get your number?”

You lifted your head from his torso, a bit flabbergasted by his sudden, unexpected question. You had to blink a few times and watch his bambi eyes show you curiosity with your reaction to know he wasn’t messing around.

“Sure. If you promise not to leak it out.” The only answer he offered you was his pinky for a pinky promise, to which you took in with a serious face. “You can’t break it, yeah?” And he laughed.

“Cross my heart, I won’t.”

The following three days felt like something in between a k-drama and a fever dream – too perfect to feel real.

Heeseung had work during the mornings and the afternoons, meaning he couldn’t be with you the whole day – unwillingly, of course. To which you thought it was great, since it allowed you to hang out with Yunjin and Jay, and also to concentrate on your job, rehearsing for the next performances alongside your castmates, warming up your vocals with your teacher, re-reading the lines just in case.

However, the anticipation tightened in your stomach with every buzz of your phone with a notification, heart racing reading Heeseung’s name on the screen.

“I wanna see you soon.” “Can’t wait for tonight.” “Missing your pretty face, ngl.”

His simple texts did no good to help your inner battle, nor his perfect mannerism for caring about your health, your voice, your sleeping, the small things that sometimes neither you cared that much.

The fear of getting attached extremely fast to someone and having your heart broken was almost suffocating, and somehow Heeseung managed to wipe your thoughts away within every encounter.

There weren’t too many after the night you spent together, but each had a distinctive situation that deepened your connection.

Monday, he picked you up at your hotel after work for a small dinner at his favorite restaurant. You found yourself thirsting over his extremely good looking figure when he showed up in a simple, yet mesmerizing black button-down shirt with the first three buttons undone revealing a hint of his tanned skin beneath, and his usual heart-melting smile.

“Ready for tonight?” He asked you with a beaming face that filled your heart with warmth and a cocky grin that later on, led you to ride his dick until your legs burned after you both reached the chosen hotel for the night.

You were nothing but astonished with how deeply invested you got in Heeseung, longing for his presence every minute. The chemistry between you both was electric, the sexual tension almost palpable pairing in the air, blended perfectly with the easygoing atmosphere you always shared. Heeseung fulfilled your desires easily, as though he was reading his favorite book – you – knowing every line by heart.

The second time you met was in the middle the following day, when he decided to spend his lunch hour with you, sharing a meal as you casually chatted about everything. Heeseung had a comforting way of listening to you with softened and attentive eyes, nodding along, occasionally adding his own point of view with a relaxed charm. Not to mention how smart he sounded as he talked with his soft tone and how beautiful his laughter sounded when he genuinely enjoyed a joke.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed cooking that much,” he remarked at some point, his eyes lightening up after you shared your hobby of experimenting out new foods just to get their recipes and try doing it by yourself in your kitchen every once and a while during your free time.

You had no idea connections could be developed so quickly with someone as you did with Heeseung, how your energies and personalities complemented in a way that made every interaction feel effortless, as if words didn’t needed to be fully spoken in order to understand each other.

Later the same day, Heeseung met you at night again. He timidly admitted he hadn’t prepared much for the evening, but ended up making you the happiest woman on the earth by driving you both to a dinosaur museum exhibition after learning your fascination with them.

As you explored the exhibit, your eyes sparkled with excitement, and Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm. You animatedly explained the different species ignoring completely the small text next to every skeleton – Heeseung doing the same, since listening to your voice sounded way more interesting than reading.

Your tone raised with joy as you pointed out the massive skeleton of the stegosaurus, eyes gleaming with love, your big smile making Heeseung’s heart falter some beats.

“You look so cute,” Heeseung said, chuckling softly, his hands hidden in his jacket’s pocket while tenderly watching you bouncing on your feet.

You beamed back at him. “It’s so interesting and cool to imagine those big boys walking on earth before us. Like, we are not literally, but somehow stepping on places they once stepped too.”

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on your glowing figure and at that moment, he recognized. He fell in love with you.

Not only for the talented actress on the stage, the amazing singer with an angelic voice, the famous performer who loved her fans with her whole heart.

Heeseung fell mainly for the genuine, happy, confident and warm woman in front of him. The one who easily sent chills through his spine just for laughing at his stupid jokes. The one who made the air thicker with her strong presence, just to stumble on her own legs and chuckle at it. The one who knew what she wanted and how she wanted. The one who secretly shared she was good at painting and handicrafts.

He could spend nights in hotel rooms hearing your moans and pants, feeling your intimate touches, kissing you mouth and any other place on your body he wanted to, but nothing compared to the fulfillment feeling spreading inside his chest when seeing you so pure, with raw emotions like that.

That night ended up like a date. He left you at your hotel and went home after kissing you slowly and tenderly at the entrance of the building, wishing you a good night's sleep and for you to take care.

It was your last day in Seoul before heading to the next city with the musical, and the bittersweet feeling weighed heavily on your heart. You were struggling with the drowning sentiment of leaving Heeseung behind, the idea of not knowing when, or even if he wanted to keep on seeing you made the lump in your throat hard to swallow.

Your insecurities grew heavier each second before the encounter. You hoped for Heeseung to come up with the sweet sorrow and necessary conversation first, since your messy, anxious thoughts did nothing to help you go through it without assuming the worst.

“Hi, pretty.” His sudden appearance startled you, drawing your gaze from the distant random point on the street you were staring at. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his hands finding their comfort place on your waist, grounding you.

A smile spreads across your face, eyes brightening up with relief.

“Hi.” You greeted back, leaning to kiss him on the lips, pouring all the affection you felt into that simple gesture.

You wished Heeseung could sense how deep you were falling for him, quickly becoming a vital part of your daily life in such a small amount of time.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. “You seemed a bit oblivious.”

You shook your head, not only as a response to his question but to wipe away your confused thoughts.

“I’m better now.” You said, which wasn’t a lie.

“Great,” Heeseung whispered with a smile against your head before kissing the top of it and then held your hand to walk you to his car. “I’ve prepared something different for today.” He said with a cheekily grin, the playful glint on his gaze making you squint your eyes, suspicious. He laughed at your reaction, then you quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, curiosity instantly replacing your melancholic inner thoughts.

“I hope you like it.” He kissed the back of your hand before opening the car door for you to enter.

The drive was calm, Heeseung eased your mind without even noticing he did. Just the smell of his cologne and his warm touches on your thigh whenever he stopped at a red light, and the habitual chatting that got you invested with ease worked perfectly to sooth you.

At some point Heeseung nonchalantly revealed he was applying to switch to work remotely, and you genuinely cheered since for the last few days he complained about the amount of hours he had to drive, and the home-office modality helped him to have more free time.

His own information faded out by himself in the following conversation as he changed topics, you barely noticed his sly expression whenever he glimpsed at your yapping figure, gesturing about how annoyed you felt when you had to do group work during your college.

“What’s that?” Your eyes sparkled with the colorful atmosphere you were approaching, your whole body perking up as you watched some stalls passing by the window as Heeseung searched for a place to park.

Heeseung chuckled, drifting his eyes between the road and you, but not answering your question.

Then the realization hits. You shot Heeseung with one of your bright smiles, that got him almost giggling just by seeing it.

“You’re insane.”

“I thought it could be a good place for you to learn some recipes.”

And just like that, you fell even harder for him.

Heeseung took you to a cozy outdoor market filled with food stalls, a few street foods trucks and local artisans. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing in the background and laughter echoing around you.

As you stepped out of the car with his help, the scents of diverse foods flooded your airways and you almost groaned with pleasure, your stomach growling with hunger as your mouth watered.

Heeseung held your hand the whole time you wandered from stall to stall, not even knowing where to start, but sampling everything from savory snacks to sweet treats, your senses dancing with the flavors and scents, doing some random love shots with Heeseung.

He didn’t complained a second about the constant walking. To watch you lose yourself while tasting things, making pleasant frowns and doing little dances whenever you liked something, paid back any sore he would have to deal with on the next day.

Some people recognized you, asking for a picture to which you politely declined, and Heeseung instantly gave you a confused look, since you usually made time to give them a little attention.

You searched for a free table for you both to sit, and as you stared at the three delicious small dishes in front of you not knowing which one to prove first, Heeseung spoke up.

“Isn’t that your favorite?” And then he pointed to the tteokbokki, after reading your indecisive frown, biting his own food. “Start with this one.”

You looked up at him with shock, then your gaze softened. It was Heeseung after all, the man who paid attention to every detail of you. However, your still pulse increased, your cheeks heating.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice broke the silence after a while again, and you nodded. “Is there a reason for you to refuse to take pictures with your fans today?”

The question sounded curious, genuine at it most, free from the weight of any judgments. Heeseung was trying to understand your decision rather than impose his opinion on it.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” you explained softly, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

He tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing. “How does that make me uncomfortable?”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your corn dog before answering. “I don’t know. People who hang out with me that aren’t from my area often don't feel comfortable whenever I stop to talk to my fans.”

Heeseung raised his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by the revelation. Of course people had their rights of being uncomfortable with certain situations, however, being friends with you meant knowing your personality and how much you enjoyed those small interactions. So it sounded a bit odd to hear you say that.

“Well, I don’t mind at all.” He said with a gentle smile. “Actually, it’s sweet to see you interacting with them.”

Your lips curved into a genuine smile at Heeseung’s reassuring words, especially because at some point he was a fan of yours, so to hear his mind on that conversation hit slightly deeper.

“Thanks, it means a lot.” You mumbled. “But if you ever feel awkwardly left out–

“No.” He shushed you with a portion of his food, shoving into your mouth with a playful laugh, making you roll your eyes and giggle.

The rest of the night went as comfortably as possible, filled with laughter and playful teasing moments. The thought of your departure on the next day haunted both of you, but you managed to brush away whenever your eyes met, the atmosphere softening again.

After you finished eating and drinking, Heeseung guided you to a quiet, secluded spot near the market. It was a small lake in the middle of a park, where a few other couples shared intimate affection as well.

Heeseung wrapped his arms around you from behind as you held on the railing overlooking the water. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm and soothing embrace caused a heavy sigh to escape your lips, and tears began to sting the corner of your eyes.

“You know, it's always good to come back home.” You murmured, voice tinged with nostalgia while you admired the peaceful view. Gently resting your back on Heeseung’s chest, you added. “And it's always bittersweet when I have to leave.” Your voice got stuck in your throat, heart pounding in uncertainty for your following days. “It became so much harder to leave now, Heeseung.” You admitted with a trembling voice, the tears quietly slipping down your cheeks

You felt Heeseung’s sweet lips touching your neck to place a gentle kiss before he turned you to face him. Kind hands caressing your face, cozy eyes eveloping your words with warmth and understanding. You felt loved. And it was hurting so much.

Heeseung cleaned your tears with his thumb, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids afterward.

“We can find a way,” he whispered, his own voice failing to stay steady. “I’m too attached to you at this point.” He admitted with a shy smile. “I know I said I’d make your days unforgettable, but now I’m the one who is unable to forget you. And I don’t want to even try forgetting you.”

A wave of relief rushed your body, happy for being on the same page, glad that Heeseung listened to you, overjoyed he shared similar feelings. You sobbed, snuggling closer to his body in order to feel him more, burying your face on his neck, the scent making you cry even harder.

Heeseung hugged you tightly, yet, gently, his arms involving you in a fond, safe bubble.

“I can visit you during my free time,” he said to reassure you.

“I’ll come to visit you too.” Your voice came out muffled due to your position, so you reluctantly pulled away from his embrace to search for his eyes. They were red, as if he was holding back his own tears. “I mean, I don’t live too far from here, the problem is my work–”

Heeseung silenced you by attaching his lips on yours, not wanting to hear your “but’s” and worries at the moment. He wanted to envision a good future for both of you, and also he was taking advantage to kiss you once more.

The shared touch was laced with an anticipated longing, slow and bittersweet, still full of affection. Your breath hitched while mingling with the soft sounds of contentment, hands exploring each other’s bodies, cherishing every inch before the inevitable departure of yours.

“I’m afraid you won’t get used to my work,” you whispered, relieving one of your biggest insecurities when Heeseung broke the contact to catch his breath.

“What do you mean?” He asked, slightly breathless, mind hazy from your kiss. God, he really wished you both managed a way to get back together, if not he would go insane without your sweet lips.

“It’s a demanding job, as you know.” You explained, playing with his ear lobe. Heeseung closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “I’m always traveling, I’m always going to places, constantly on the move… Even visiting can be difficult.”

“I know,” he replied softly, still not exactly understanding your full point. Yes, he would miss you, but he was sure it could be managed.

Despite, from the start he knew you were a busy woman, barely having time to yourself as you told him a few times. And he was willing to adjust some things in his life if that meant having you by his side.

Heeseung didn’t said anything more, making you wonder. Would he back off after all of that? Or that meant he was fully devoted?

“And it doesn’t bother you?” You asked.

“No,” he replied sincerely, opening his eyes just to lock them onto yours, as he brushed a little strand of hair from your face before he cupped one of your cheeks. “It’ll not. If you promise you’ll always come back to me.”

And you would. After all, by the end of the day, all you could see was his eyes only.

Heeseung grew attached to watch you. Not only when owning the stage and captivating the audience with your talented acting skills, but in any other moment as well.

His eyes followed your every move, from the moment you frowned while waking up to the moment you fell on his arms, panting after him fucking you hard.

Yeah, you both managed ways of getting back together, with his now remote work, traveling around with you became easy. He missed his friends every once, and that led you both to constantly go back to Seoul and spend some days visiting, especially to see Jake and Sunoo, who freaked out when he discovered – through instagram! – his friends were dating one of his biggest inspirations.

Now, in your brand new purchased shared apartment, Heeseung eyes tracked you wetting your lips while humming the melody of your upcoming musical, while doing some work on your computer. It was a routine he definitely could get used to.

And as always, you felt the sweet weight of his gaze, smiling even before searching for him.

“What?” you asked, laughing at how Heeseung positioned himself beside you on the couch; his cheek resting on his hand, elbow propped on the armrest, as he shot you a lovestruck expression – soft smile and tender eyes.

“I love you.”

Months ago, those words would have taken you by surprise.

You remember vividly how flustered you became, heart racing, stuttering on your own words, unable to cohesively say anything back. Heeseung joked about how an amazing actress managed to lose composure and not talk like that, and after you slapped his shoulder playfully, you kissed him passionately, mumbling what could have been a ‘I love you too’.

This time it didn’t surprise you, still, left you momentarily speechless. You would never get used to the electrifying wave washing over your body whenever you heard Heeseung declaring his love for you.

Just like you always did, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks under his intense gaze. Closing your computer, you leaned closer, settling yourself comfortably on his lap.

“I love you too, Hee,” you replied softly and sincerely.

You smiled, before kissing him.

Heeseung’s embrace was your heaven. Heeseung’s lips were your hell. And in between that, he kept his eyes on you. Always.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #heegyukeluv reqs #heegyukeluv works

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cyberyam · 2 months ago

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biggest fan.

Pairing: MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo x Fan!Reader

cw: smut; fan x celebrity

Summary: Fan!Reader catches the eye of anonymous singer MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo

❥ divider by @bunnysrph

❥ inspiration - Sleep Token

MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo; stood on stage, chest heaving as he fought to steady his breath between sets. The heat beneath his hooded costume was suffocating, sweat trailing down his temples and stinging his eyes beneath the mask.

“How are we feeling tonight?” he called out into his mic, his voice cutting through the air. The crowd answered with a deafening roar.

His gaze swept over the sea of faces, all chanting his alias, their phones raised to capture his every move. But then—his eyes landed on you.

Unlike the others, you weren’t recording. Your hands gripped the railing tight, your attention locked solely on him.

For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you. Then, as if recognizing the unspoken challenge in your gaze, a slow, devilish smile curled his lips.

Despite the energy of the crowd surging around him, his focus remained on you—standing there, hands gripping the railing in anticipation, eyes locked onto his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

Something about you sparked a fire in his chest, a rare feeling that had been buried under years of routine performances. Inspiration.

A new song came to mind, one he hadn’t planned to sing tonight.

His decision was made.

MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo; thanked the crowed, and stole one last glance in your direction before he turned on his heel, striding offstage after another set. His band was huddled near the side, tuning their instruments or taking gulps of water, but they looked up as he approached.

“We’re changing the next song,” he announced, his voice still breathless from the last performance.

They exchanged glances, slightly surprised but unfazed. It wasn’t the first time he had switched things up last minute.

“To which one?” the guitarist asked, adjusting the strap of his instrument.

Sung Jin-Woo barely hesitated. “That one.”

A knowing smirk crossed the drummer’s face. “Feeling sentimental, huh?”

“Something like that,” he murmured, but his eyes were already searching the crowd again, finding you instantly.

Leaning in slightly, he gestured subtly toward the front row. “That one. I want security to bring her backstage after the show.”

The band exchanged amused glances, but no one questioned him.

“We’ll know to leave you alone,” the guitarist smirked.

With that settled, he adjusted his mask, rolled his shoulders, and stepped back into the spotlight, heart hammering harder than before.

This next song was for you.

MaskedSInger!Sung Jin-Woo; stepped back onto the stage, and the roar of the crowd swelled in that moment, but to him, it all faded into white noise. His heartbeat thundered louder in his ears as his gaze locked onto yours once more, unwavering, unshaken.

He stepped forward, gripping the mic, his voice carrying over the sea of people.

“There’s a certain someone out here tonight,” he called into his mic, eyes never leaving yours. “Someone this next song is dedicated to.”

A ripple of excitement ran through the audience—whispers, shouts, phones lifting to capture the moment. But he didn’t care about any of that. The only thing that mattered was the way your breath hitched, the way your gaze intensified, the way your hands tightened on the railing as if bracing yourself.

And then, the first notes played, and the crowd roared in response.

It wasn’t just a song—it was a confession, a raw, unfiltered outpouring of emotion. His voice was low, rich, dripping with something deeper than just performance. Every lyric seemed meant for you, each word laced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

As the music swelled, so did his presence. He prowled the stage, but no matter where he moved, his eyes found you—burned into you. And then, as the bridge hit, he did something no one expected.

He dropped to his knees.

Right in front of you, stretching out his free arm as if trying to caress your face.

The world around you ceased to exist. The lights, the screaming fans, the music—it all blurred into the background as he sang the final words, his gaze holding you captive. The moment stretched, charged with something electric, something unspoken.

And then the song ended. The string of your trance had snapped.

The crowd erupted into chaos, but he simply rose to his feet, a smirk tugging at his lips as he gave you one last lingering look before winking, and then turning to the audience.

“You've been a great audience! Goodnight!”

With that, he strode offstage, disappearing into the shadows for the final time that night, leaving the crowd aching for more.

You barely had a second to process what had just happened before a firm but polite voice cut through the noise.

“Excuse me, miss.”

You turned to see a security guard standing beside you, his expression unreadable beneath the flashing stage lights.

“You have been requested backstage,” he said, his voice calm but authoritative.

Your mind reeled. “What? Are you serious?”

The security guard merely nodded. “If you’d follow me.”

A million thoughts raced through your head. Was this really happening? Why you? What did he even want?

As you hesitated, the crowd pressed in, murmuring in confusion, some people throwing envious glances your way. The security guard, sensing your hesitation, offered a reassuring nod.

“He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t mean it.”

Swallowing hard, you took a step forward. Then another.

And with that, you were led past the barricade, through the crowd, and into the unknown.

The hallway leading backstage felt like a blur—your heart pounded with every step as the security guard guided you through the dim corridors, past crew members who barely spared you a glance. The energy from the concert still buzzed in your veins, but now, a different kind of anticipation coiled in your stomach.

Finally, the guard stopped in front of a door, pushing it open without a word.

“In here.”

You stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind you.

The room was dimly lit, empty except for a leather couch against the far wall and a table cluttered with water bottles and towels. But none of that mattered.

Because he was there.

The air in the room was thick with tension, humming with something dark and electric. The door had barely clicked shut behind you before you realized just how intimate the space was—just you and him, alone.

MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo; stood before you, stripped of his elaborate costume, the heavy layers and hood discarded. But the mask remained. It still concealed his identity, shrouding him in mystery, his true face hidden beneath sleek black, revealing nothing but his mouth and chin.

Yet, even without it, he was devastating.

His bare torso gleamed under the dim, golden light, muscles taut from the lingering exertion of the performance. Sweat still clung to his skin, a slow trickle sliding down the sharp ridges of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants—hanging just low enough to tease.

And he was watching you.

Not just with amusement, but with intent.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, stepping closer, the heat of his body palpable even with the small space between you. His voice was lower now, smooth like silk, edged with something richer—something meant to entice.

Your throat went dry. You had been so captivated by him on stage, so entranced by the way he looked at you, sang to you, that you hadn’t truly considered what would happen if you came back here. If you faced him like this, with no screaming crowd, no blinding lights—just the weight of his presence and the sharp realization that you were utterly alone with him.

His head tilted slightly, as if reading your thoughts, reading you.

“You came all this way,” he mused, voice dipping into something dangerously soft. “And now you’re speechless?”

Your breath hitched as he reached for you, slow and deliberate, the backs of his fingers grazing along your arm before trailing down to your wrist. A featherlight touch, yet it sent heat curling low in your stomach.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his fingers now brushing the inside of your wrist, tracing your pulse. “Did you feel it?”

You swallowed. “Feel what?”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, low and dark. “That pull. The final song was for you, you know?”

His grip firmed ever so slightly—not forceful, but enough to guide you, enough to let you feel just how easily he could close the space between you.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as he leaned in, the sharp scent of sweat and cologne intoxicating this close. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Were you waiting for this?”

The question coiled around you, wrapping tight. He didn’t move back, didn’t step away. Instead, he waited—waited for you to answer, waited for you to make the choice.

And as your fingers twitched at your sides, as your pulse thundered against his touch, you knew there was no denying the him.

The air between you crackled with something raw, something dangerous. Sung Jin-Woo was on his knees, his masked face buried between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips with bruising intensity as he devoured you.

His breaths were ragged, strained, like a man starved, and you felt every bit of it in the way his tongue moved—hungry, desperate, possessive.

Your back arched, a broken moan escaping your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping, pulling—anything to anchor yourself as pleasure crashed over you in waves. But the way he growled in response, the vibrations sending another jolt of heat straight through your core, had your grip faltering.

"Your n-name—" You barely choked out before his hands tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin with warning.

"Don't," he rasped against you, his voice hoarse, ruined with restraint.

But you weren’t done. You needed to know, you wanted to taste it on your tongue, you wanted to plead it to him.

You gasped, tugging at his hair again, forcing him to look up. His eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—were wild, blown wide with lust. You could see it, the way he was barely holding on, the way his entire body was strung tight with need.

"Tell me your name," you whispered, breathless, desperate. "Please."

A sharp inhale. His fingers flexed on your thighs, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles, but still, he hesitated.

"Tell me." You arched into him, pleading. "Tell me know who you are."

His hands twitched, his entire body trembling with restraint. He wanted to. You could feel it, the way he lingered, the way he almost—almost—let the words slip past his lips. You knew he wanted to hear how his name sounded as you whimpered and moaned.

But then, with a guttural curse, he ripped himself away, staggering back as if touching you a second longer would ruin him.

His mask still hid his face, but his breaths were uneven, his control fractured.

"You're dangerous," he muttered as his licked his lips, voice thick, strained.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your body still thrumming, still aching for him. "And you’re running," you panted breathlessly.

Silence stretched between you, heavy, blistering. Then, he exhaled harshly, his fingers already reaching for the zipper of his pants.

"You want my name?" he murmured darkly, stepping forward, caging you in.

His hips pressed flush against yours, hard, unrelenting. You could feel his pulsing bulge against you.

MaskedSinger!Sung Jin-Woo; bent over you, lowering his head to your hear, you could feel his hot breath on your ear, sending a shiver through your body. "Then earn it."

#sung jin woo #sung jin woo smut #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo fanfic #sung jin woo x y/n #sung jin woo x reader smut #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader

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odileeclipse · 30 days ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 15

<<<Previous Next>>>

A/N I might not get the chance to look at my inbox properly until tomorrow afternoon but I finally got around to finishing and polishing ch15 and wanted to post it before I forgot <3

Shadow Milk Cookie said nothing at first, but there was something almost indulgent in the way he regarded you, as if he found your amusement at his answer amusing in turn. Then, without another word, he took a seat at the harpsichord, his fingers poised over the keys. You weren’t sure what you had expected but the first few notes he played were enough to make you fall silent.

The first note rang out, crisp and clear, reverberating through the vast chamber like a ripple across still water. It was not merely sound it was a presence, filling every corner of the space, settling deep into your bones. The harpsichord’s voice was unlike any instrument you had ever heard before, bright, articulate, but carrying an undeniable weight, as if each note was a carefully chosen word in a language older than time itself. And at the center of it all was him. Shadow Milk Cookie was seated before the grand instrument, and in that moment, he looked untouchable.

The afternoon light filtering through the high-arched windows illuminated him in a way that felt almost deliberate, as if even the sun wished to acknowledge his presence. His robes, always refined, seemed richer in this setting deep celestial blue, embroidered with delicate gold constellations that shimmered when he moved. But it was his hair that held you captive.

It was like a galaxy unfurled, dark sapphire at the roots before fading into a luminous, ethereal blue, each strand shifting as though it contained the movement of the night sky itself. Stars tiny, glimmering motes dusted his locks, flickering like distant constellations caught in the ever-changing current of his hair. It moved as though it belonged to something greater than mere gravity, undulating softly, as if stirred by an unseen cosmic tide.

And then there were his eyes. One blue, deep and unfathomable like an ocean at midnight. The other gold, gleaming with an otherworldly brilliance, as if alight with the very knowledge he so devotedly pursued. Together, they carried a weight that sent a shiver down your spine, wisdom beyond years, mysteries yet unraveled.

They were eyes that had seen truths most could never hope to comprehend, and yet, as he played, they softened, half-lidded with a focus so pure it was almost reverent. You could hardly breathe. His hands glided over the keys with effortless precision, fingers weaving melody and meaning together in a way that felt intentional, as though each note carried an unspoken truth, meant only for those willing to listen. He did not simply play the harpsichord he commanded it, coaxed from it something both powerful and delicate. You watched, utterly transfixed.

He was magnificent. Like something out of a masterful painting, framed in golden light, captured in a moment of pure artistry. It felt unreal to be witnessing him like this, to see him immersed in something beyond lectures and research, beyond the unshakable composure he so often maintained. There was something deeply human about the way he played his fingers pressing just a little deeper into the keys on certain phrases, the faintest movement of his lips as if he were silently following the melody, the way his shoulders subtly tensed with the weight of emotion woven into each note.

Your heart thundered against your ribs. Your fingers twitched before coming to rest over your chest, pressing lightly against your sternum, a subconscious attempt to steady the overwhelming sensation blooming there. But the moment your hand made contact, realization struck, and you quickly dropped it, as if burned. No. That wasn’t your intention. It wasn’t that. …Was it? You pushed the thought aside, gripping the hem of your sleeve to ground yourself. And yet, no matter how you tried to suppress it, the feeling remained. A warmth, curling in your chest, persistent and unfamiliar. The piece swelled toward its conclusion, cascading notes falling like stars scattered across the sky. Then, at last, the final chord resonated through the air, ringing out before dissolving into silence. The absence of sound was almost startling. You exhaled, only now realizing you had been holding your breath. For a moment, you could only sit there, stunned, the weight of what you had just experienced settling over you. It was beautiful, so achingly beautiful that you felt something tighten in your throat, a prickle at the corners of your eyes that you hastily blinked away.

“…I’ve never heard anyone play the harpsichord before,” you admitted, your voice quieter than intended. It felt almost wrong to speak after such a performance, as if words might shatter the delicate atmosphere that still lingered in the air.

Shadow Milk Cookie finally turned to look at you. You didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered, how his golden eye glowed just a little brighter in the afternoon light, or the way the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. You didn’t see the way he studied you, taking in your expression with a knowing softness, as if the reaction he had just drawn from you was one he had anticipated all along. But he had noticed. He had noticed everything. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, lingering like the final note of his performance. You were still caught in it, still holding onto the last echoes of sound in your mind, unwilling to let them fade completely. Your breath felt unsteady, your thoughts even more so. And then, at last, Shadow Milk Cookie spoke. “Did you enjoy it?”

His voice was soft, smoother than usual, as if the music had softened him in turn. It was not the theatrical cadence he often used when debating, nor the measured patience he carried when tutoring. No this was something quieter, something almost intimate. You swallowed, still processing everything you had just heard, everything you had just felt.

“I…” You hesitated, then exhaled, your fingers curling against your knee. “It was… breathtaking.” You looked down, gathering your thoughts. “I've never heard anything like it before. The way you play… it’s like” Words failed you. Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly, his golden eye glinting with curiosity. “Like?” You clenched your jaw, searching for something, anything, that could do justice to what you had just experienced. But how did you describe something like this? How did you explain the way each note had wrapped around your heart, the way it had stolen the breath from your lungs, the way it had made you feel as if you were witnessing something rare, something precious?

“…Like the stars are singing,” you finally said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Like a story without words like something you don’t just hear, but understand somewhere deep inside.”

His expression didn’t change immediately, but for the briefest moment, something flickered in his gaze. His hair, ever shifting like the cosmos itself, rippled with a subtle glow, as if stirred by unseen stardust. Then, with a hum of amusement, he leaned back slightly, his fingers idly ghosting over the keys. “A most poetic description,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. “But then again… I suppose you’ve been listening more closely as of late.”

You blinked, his words settling in your mind with a strange weight. Had you? Before, you would have struggled to keep up with his lectures, grasping at concepts like sand slipping through your fingers. But now, you found yourself hanging onto every word, every note, every subtle shift in his expression as he played. You had been listening really listening. And he had noticed. The realization sent something warm curling through your chest, but you pushed it down before it could take root. Instead, you cleared your throat, your gaze flickering to the harpsichord beneath his hands.

“…You told me you composed music,” you said carefully. “Was that piece one of yours?”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s fingers stilled for a moment. Then, he exhaled through his nose, almost as if he were smiling. “It was.” Something in your chest tightened.

“…Then you’re even more brilliant than I thought.” The words left you before you could reconsider them, but the sincerity in your voice was undeniable. This time, there was no mistaking it his lips quirked into the faintest, most fleeting hint of a smile. And though the silence returned, it no longer felt heavy. It was different now lighter, charged with something unspoken, something neither of you had the words for just yet.

You exhaled slowly, still trying to collect yourself after everything you had just witnessed. The music, the way he carried himself, the sheer grandeur of it all it was overwhelming in a way you hadn’t expected. And yet, amid the awe still thrumming in your chest, curiosity tugged at the edges of your thoughts. You glanced at him, watching as his fingers idly traced over the harpsichord keys, not pressing them, just… lingering. Almost absentmindedly. “…How many people have you played for before?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t look at you immediately. His golden eye flickered with something unreadable, while his blue eye like the deep cosmos swirling in endless motion remained calm, contemplative. “Why do you ask?” he finally said, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitated. “I just… I mean, people talk. It’s rumored that you’ve played before. So I figured… well, many people must have seen you by now.” A soft hum left him, almost thoughtful. He rested his hands properly over the keys again, though he made no move to play. His gaze drifted, as if sorting through distant memories, his starlit hair shifting ever so slightly, shimmering under the afternoon light that filtered through the window.

“…Fewer than you might think,” he said at last. That caught you off guard. You blinked. “Really?” He glanced at you then, his expression unreadable but patient, as though waiting to see what you would make of that answer. You frowned slightly.

“But… you’re you.” You gestured vaguely, still struggling to fully wrap your head around it. “You’re well, the Sage of Truth. You’ve taught so many scholars, given countless lectures, been part of some of the most renowned research studies in the Academy’s history. I just assumed that if you played, people would want to hear it. That they have heard it.”

His lips quirked ever so slightly, something almost resembling amusement flickering in his gaze. “I do not perform for an audience, if that is what you mean.” You stared at him.

“…You don’t?” He exhaled through his nose, shifting his hands slightly over the keys, but still not pressing them. “Music is a discipline much like any other. It requires practice, precision, and understanding. When I compose, it is not for the sake of spectacle.” He cast a glance at you, his gold and blue eyes gleaming with quiet intent.

“It is for the sake of expression.” Your breath hitched slightly. Something about the way he said it; so assured, so firm, yet with a weight that made your chest tighten struck you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Expression. Something for himself. Not for the Academy. Not for prestige. Not for a title or a research paper. Just… for him. You swallowed, your fingers curling slightly in your lap.

“Then… I was lucky to hear it?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Perhaps.” The warmth curling in your chest deepened. You glanced down, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, but you couldn’t help it. The realization was settling now, sinking into your bones.

You weren’t just one of many. You were one of the few. You felt warmth creeping up your neck, embarrassment curling into your chest like an uninvited guest. It wasn’t that he had said anything particularly bold, nothing overt or damning yet the weight of his words, the knowledge that you had just witnessed something intimate, something not meant for the masses, made your heart stutter.

You weren’t sure why it felt so monumental. Your fingers tightened slightly in your lap before you shifted, glancing away, feigning a sudden interest in the other instruments scattered throughout the room. There were violins neatly arranged on a stand, their lacquered wood catching the afternoon light. A cello rested in the corner, its strings taut with readiness. Various wind instruments lay in careful display cases, alongside aged manuscripts of compositions that must have belonged to scholars long before your time.

“This room is… really something,” you murmured, hoping your voice came out steady. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you. His stare was nothing like the prying, judgmental eyes of a crowded lecture hall. He had the kind of presence that naturally commanded attention, but when his gaze settled on you, it felt… bearable. Pleasant, even. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization. “Indeed,” he finally said, his voice as composed as ever.

“Each of these instruments has its own history, some crafted by artisans long forgotten, others once belonging to scholars whose names remain etched in time. Music, like truth, is eternal in its preservation.”

You nodded, trying to focus on anything but the way his words sent a quiet shiver down your spine. “Do you ever play anything else?” you asked, tracing the outline of a delicate lyre resting on a nearby stand. There was a slight pause before he answered. “I have studied several,” he admitted. “But none call to me quite like the harpsichord.” You glanced at him again, your face still warm but no longer burning.

“That makes sense,” you said with a small smile. “It suits you.” His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. For a brief moment, you wondered if you had said too much, if you had allowed something to slip through the careful barrier you had built between admiration and something else entirely. But then he simply nodded, turning his gaze toward the instruments once more, and the moment passed like a quiet note fading into stillness. You exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you brushed your fingers along the polished wood of the lyre. “I always wanted to be musically talented,” you admitted, glancing at Shadow Milk Cookie before turning back to the instrument.

“When I was younger, I really wanted to learn the guitar.” You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head as if picturing yourself in some long-gone moment, struggling with chords that never quite sounded right. “But I was so bad at it. I mean, really bad.” You laughed at yourself, the memory distant enough that you could find humor in it now. “At some point, my teacher just very gently suggested that maybe I should try singing instead.” Your fingers traced along the delicate carvings of the lyre’s frame as you added, “Apparently, playing wasn’t really in the cards for me.” Shadow Milk Cookie was quiet for a moment, though you could still feel his presence beside you, his gaze steady, unreadable as always. Then, after a beat, he hummed thoughtfully.

“Perhaps it was not a matter of talent,” he mused, “but rather that your hands were searching for the wrong instrument.” His words made you pause. You turned to him, brow slightly furrowed. “What do you mean?” He regarded you with something softer than his usual sharp intensity, something thoughtful, considering.

“Not every scholar finds their truth in the same pursuit,” he said simply. “Just as some seek knowledge in tomes and others in the world itself, music too has its own avenues. One must find the medium that allows them to express what words cannot.” You blinked, absorbing his words.

“So… you’re saying I just haven’t found the right instrument?” “Precisely.” His gold and blue eyes gleamed, his expression as composed as ever, yet there was something almost… expectant in the way he looked at you. Your gaze drifted back to the instruments around the room. It was a nice thought, the idea that maybe just maybe you hadn’t failed, but simply hadn’t found the right voice through which to speak. Still, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, unless there’s an instrument out there that requires absolutely no coordination, I think I’ll stick to listening.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips quirked, amusement barely visible in the corners of his mouth. “Then perhaps you were meant to be an audience rather than a performer.”

You smiled, glancing at him again. “I think I’m okay with that.” Your gaze lingered on the instruments, fingers still ghosting over the intricate carvings on the lyre. The weight of the conversation settled in your mind; his words, the music, the feeling of witnessing something rare and deeply personal. It was almost too much, too grand for something as ordinary as a tutoring session. A tutoring session.

That thought struck you suddenly, like a chime breaking through the hush of a quiet room. How much time had passed? You glanced toward the tall windows lining the far wall, their glass panes streaked with the golden light of the afternoon sun. The hours had slipped by unnoticed, the world outside continuing on without you while you sat in the Scholar’s Wing, listening to music that left your heart aching in ways you weren’t entirely sure how to name. You hesitated before speaking, reluctant to break the quiet atmosphere you had both fallen into.

“I… suppose that means there’s less time for tutoring now,” you murmured, half to yourself, half to him. Shadow Milk Cookie turned his head slightly, his gaze still unreadable. If he had noticed the time slipping away, he made no indication of it. Instead, he merely tilted his head, a thoughtful hum leaving his lips. “Do you regret it?” he asked. The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, at the way the light touched the edges of his hair, making the deep blues shimmer like a night sky scattered with distant stars. Regret? No. That wasn’t the right word at all.

You shook your head, a small, almost sheepish smile pulling at your lips. “No,” you admitted. “Not at all.” His expression didn’t change much, but something in his eyes shifted something unreadable yet warm, as if he had expected your answer and found it… satisfactory. “Then the time was not wasted.” You let out a quiet breath, allowing yourself to relax. No, it wasn’t wasted at all. The weight of the moment lingered between you, the echoes of the harpsichord’s melody still curling through your thoughts. You glanced toward the door, then back at Shadow Milk Cookie, suddenly feeling the need to ground yourself again to return to the familiar, to your friends, to the usual rhythm of your days. “We should probably go,” you said, shifting slightly where you stood.

“It’s almost time for dinner, and I really don’t want to deal with the rush of hungry people.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment before standing smoothly, his robes catching the afternoon light like a shifting night sky. “A prudent decision,” he murmured, his voice rich with its usual refinement. “There is a particular ferocity that emerges when scholars are deprived of sustenance.” You let out a small, amused breath. “Dramatic, but not inaccurate.” He gestured for you to walk ahead, and together, the two of you left the quiet sanctuary of the music room. The halls of the Scholar’s Wing were hushed, save for the occasional murmuring conversation in passing. Shadow Milk Cookie walked with you at a measured pace, and it wasn’t until you were nearing his office where your things still waited that he spoke again. “Which of your friends will be there?” he asked, his tone casual. The question didn’t strike you as odd. If anything, it was expected he had encountered your friends before, even in passing. “Chai Latte, for sure. Hazelnut and Earl Grey too, probably,” you answered. “We usually eat together.”

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed in understanding, his gaze briefly flickering ahead before settling back on you. There was something unreadable in his expression, but it was gone before you could think too much of it. The two of you reached his office, and as you stepped inside to gather your belongings, you found yourself glancing at him once more. He had already moved toward his desk, absentmindedly adjusting the placement of a few scattered notes. It was strange this entire evening. Not in a bad way, just… different. And yet, as you slung your bag over your shoulder and turned back toward him, you found yourself hesitating for just a second longer. You shot him a curious glance, adjusting the strap of your bag as you gathered your things. “Why do you ask?”

Shadow Milk Cookie barely paused, his fingers still idly arranging the papers on his desk. “Simple curiosity.” His voice was smooth, as if the question held no deeper meaning. “You often speak of them, and I am merely observing the consistency of your patterns.” You huffed a quiet laugh.

“Right… same as always, then. Chai Latte, Hazelnut, Earl Grey. My usual group.” You lingered by the door for a moment before adding, “If you wanted to join us, I don’t think they’d mind.” His hands stilled for just a fraction of a second before he resumed his movements, expression as poised as ever. “An intriguing proposition,” he mused, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“However, I believe my presence would be… an unexpected variable in your usual dynamic.” You blinked. “I mean, probably, but it’s not like we’d mind. They already know I’ve been studying with you. It wouldn’t be that weird.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with that same measured look, the kind that always made you feel like he was studying something just beyond your own understanding. Then, after a moment, he exhaled softly, his gaze briefly drifting toward the window. “A gracious offer,” he finally said, “but one I shall decline. For now.” There was something about the way he said it that made you wonder if, perhaps, he had considered it more seriously than he let on. But before you could dwell on it, he was already moving toward the door, gesturing for you to step out first. “Come,” he said. “You wished to avoid the rush, did you not?” And with that, the conversation slipped away, leaving behind only the faintest thread of curiosity lingering in its place.

You let out a small chuckle, adjusting your bag as you followed him toward the door. “What, have I overstayed my welcome?” you teased, glancing up at him with a grin. Shadow Milk Cookie paused, just for a moment. His golden eye glimmered with something unreadable before he turned his gaze forward once more. “Hardly,” he said smoothly. “If that were the case, you would have known.” His tone was even, his words poised but something about them made your stomach do an odd little flip. You scoffed, shaking your head. “Right, because you’d be so subtle about it.”

“A scholar must be direct in their findings,” he remarked, the faintest trace of amusement threading through his voice. “If you had, as you say, overstayed, you would be informed immediately and without hesitation.” You rolled your eyes.

“Good to know.” Still, as the two of you stepped into the dim corridors of the Scholar’s Wing, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, if anything, you had been welcome for far longer than you realized. As you reached the threshold of the Scholar’s Wing, where the lantern-lit corridors gave way to the more bustling walkways of the Academy, you slowed your steps, hesitating for a moment before turning back to him.

Shadow Milk Cookie stood there, watching you with that ever-measured gaze, the soft glow of the nearby sconces catching in his deep blue and gold eyes. His presence, as always, felt larger than the space around him contained, yet vast, like an endless sky just waiting beyond the reach of your fingertips.

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, feigning a casual air despite the odd flutter in your chest. “Same time tomorrow?” you asked, as if it weren’t already set in stone, as if you didn’t already know you’d be here again without question. The corner of his lips curled, just slightly. He tilted his head, considering you.

“Have you already forgotten our schedule?” You huffed, pretending to scoff. “Just making sure,” you muttered. It was an excuse, flimsy at best. You just… didn’t want to leave without saying something else. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something in the way he regarded you, something quiet, something thoughtful. Then, with the same practiced ease he always carried, he dipped his head ever so slightly.

“Tomorrow, then,” he confirmed. Satisfied though you weren’t sure why you nodded. “Alright. See you.” You turned on your heel, making your way toward the main halls, but even as you walked, you could still feel the weight of his gaze lingering just a moment longer before he, too, disappeared into the depths of the Scholar’s Wing. The dining hall was comfortably full but not yet overrun, the earlier dinner rush having already passed. You slipped into your usual seat with ease, the warmth of familiar company grounding you. Chai Latte Cookie barely gave you time to set down your tray before leaning in, her eyes flickering with mischief.

“You’re not late this time,” she noted, propping her chin on her hand. “Color me surprised.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie barely looked up from his notes, adjusting his reading glasses. “What a miracle.” Earl Grey Cookie, on the other hand, studied you with a glance brief, but precise, like he was peeling back layers of an unseen puzzle. You ignored all of them, focusing instead on your food. Or at least, you tried to. But you must have hesitated too long, because Chai Latte Cookie’s teasing smile softened, her voice dipping just a little quieter. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, too casually. You poked at your meal, as if arranging it just right would somehow erase whatever it was that had settled in your chest. It wasn’t nothing, though. It was the image of long, elegant fingers dancing across harpsichord keys, of stardust-swept hair catching the soft glow of lamplight, of a gaze that held something unreadable, something you hadn’t had the courage to decipher. It was the lingering echo of music that had never touched your ears before today. And it was the way you felt, sitting there, recalling it not just admiration, not just awe, but something else. Something quieter. Something you didn’t quite know how to name.

“You’re thinking about something,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed out. Earl Grey Cookie turned a page in his book but didn’t look away from you. “Or someone.” Your fork clattered against your plate. “I was not ” Chai Latte Cookie hummed, reaching for her drink. “Mmm. If you say so.” You buried your face in your hands. Because the worst part? You didn’t even know if they were wrong. Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head, eyes sparkling with amusement as she swirled her drink lazily. “You’ve got a look,” she mused, her tone far too knowing for your liking. You blinked. “A… look?”

She grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “Mhm. I know that look.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow but didn’t comment, while Earl Grey Cookie merely observed in silence, waiting. You huffed, turning your attention back to your food. “I don’t have a look.” Chai Latte Cookie just laughed. “Oh, but you do. It’s that soft, far-off, thinking-about-someone look.” She took a sip of her drink, eyes never leaving you.

“And I have never seen it on you before.” Your whole body stiffened. “I ” You faltered, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. Because was that what this was? You weren’t… thinking about him like that, were you? You were just caught up in the moment, in the music, in the sheer unexpectedness of seeing Shadow Milk Cookie the Sage of Truth doing something so… human. That was all. Wasn’t it? Chai Latte Cookie didn’t press further, but the knowing curve of her lips told you she’d already drawn her own conclusions. And the worst part? You weren’t sure you could argue against them. “Do you guys think you’d wait an eternity for someone?” You asked wistfully a question you were still hung up on. The story from the city lingering, latched onto your heart like a tick.

Chai Latte Cookie’s playful smile softened as she swirled her drink in her hands, the dim light of the dining hall reflecting in her eyes. “You’re still thinking about that story, huh?” You nodded, glancing down at your plate. The tale had lingered in your mind ever since you heard it, refusing to be forgotten. “I just… I keep wondering. Could someone really wait that long? A hundred years, just for a single moment with someone?”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie exhaled through his nose, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. “If they had no other choice, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be agonizing.” Earl Grey Cookie, ever thoughtful, tapped a finger against the table. “It depends on what they’re waiting for. If they knew, without a doubt, that they’d see their beloved again even after a century then perhaps the waiting wouldn’t feel like suffering. But if there was no guarantee…” He trailed off, his expression unreadable. You swallowed.

“I don’t know if I could do it.” Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head, a knowing glint in her gaze. “I think it’s less about whether you could and more about whether you’d want to. If someone meant that much to you, maybe time wouldn’t matter at all.” That struck something deep within you. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a short breath. “Still sounds tragic to me.”

Chai Latte Cookie chuckled. “Oh, don’t act like you weren’t invested in the story. You were the one who insisted we stay and listen to the end.”

“I appreciate good storytelling,” he replied smoothly, but the tips of his ears were a little pink. You shook your head, smiling faintly, but the weight of the question still pressed on your mind. Chai Latte Cookie studied you, then reached across the table, her fingers just brushing yours. “Are you asking because you’re curious? Or because you’re wondering?”

Your breath hitched slightly. You weren’t sure. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe you just wanted to understand the kind of love that could last beyond time itself. But before you could dwell on it further, Chai Latte Cookie gave your hand a gentle squeeze and grinned. “Well, if you ever decide to wait a hundred years for someone, let me know. I’ll wait right there with you.” You laughed, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather not wait that long at all.” But something in your chest tightened, a quiet, unspoken feeling curling at the edges of your thoughts. Because wasn’t that the whole point of the story? Sometimes, the choice wasn’t yours to make.

Chai Latte Cookie’s playful energy dimmed, her gaze soft as she watched you, fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. “Is it the Sage of Truth?” Her voice lacked its usual teasing lilt no laughter, no playful nudges. Just quiet understanding, the kind that only a close friend could offer. Your breath caught in your throat. “What?” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know you, you know? And I know that look. You’re thinking about someone, and it’s not just because of some ghost story.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie set his utensils down, leveling you with a knowing glance.

“Chai’s not wrong. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.” Earl Grey Cookie, who had been stirring his tea with methodical patience, finally looked up. “You never used to care about staying late to study. Now, you act like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

You fumbled for words. “I-he’s just tutoring me. That’s all.” Chai Latte Cookie sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “I’m not saying you have feelings for him.” A pause. “But if you did”

“I don’t.” She gave you a look, unimpressed. “Okay. But if you did, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Your fingers curled around your fork, a tightness settling in your chest. “I don’t see why that would happen.” Chai Latte Cookie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It’s fun to joke and tease about it, yeah, but…” She glanced away for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“I don’t think you should get your hopes up. Not because it’s impossible, or because I don’t support you, but because realistically nothing good could come from it.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie crossed his arms, nodding. “Nobody really knows much about him. He’s private. Guarded.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses. “And to be blunt, we don’t even know if he’s single.” That made you freeze. “You mean…?” Chai Latte Cookie exhaled through her nose. “He’s so private, he could already be spoken for, and we wouldn’t know.”

The words settled uncomfortably in your chest, heavy with unspoken weight. Earl Grey Cookie looked at you carefully, his voice even. “I’m not saying this to discourage you. But you have to admit, for all the time you’ve spent around him… how much do you really know about him?” You hated that you didn’t have an answer. The Sage of Truth Shadow Milk Cookie was… unfathomable. A beacon of knowledge. Someone revered, admired, respected. But beyond the theatrical wisdom and the careful distance he always maintained, what was there? You realized, with a quiet sort of dread, that you weren’t sure. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a slow breath. “We just don’t want you to set yourself up for something that might never happen. And if he really was with someone ”

“I know,” you cut in, voice quieter than you expected. “I get it.” Chai Latte Cookie reached across the table, her fingers warm against yours. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I know.” But deep down, the uncertainty lingered. Chai Latte Cookie’s fingers tightened around yours, grounding, steady. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice a gentle lull, like waves against the shore. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” You shook your head, but the motion felt half-hearted. A dull ache settled in the pit of your stomach, something quiet and gnawing. They’re right. Of course they’re right. Who is Shadow Milk Cookie? You’ve seen only glimpses of a scholar wrapped in truth, untouchable, illuminated like a figure from a painting. He reveals knowledge like pulling back a veil, but never himself. And yet… he’s seen you. The thought twists like a knife. You’ve bared your struggles to him, your weaknesses laid out like an open book. He’s seen you hesitate, stumble, fail, watched as you fumbled through lessons, watched as you grew. You had nothing to hide, no layers of mystery, no grand secrets. But him? He was always just out of reach. Always the untouchable scholar, his mind an endless expanse of wisdom, while you were just… you.

It feels unfair. Chai Latte Cookie must see something on your face because before you can say anything, she pulls you in, arms wrapping around you, her warmth pressing the ache deeper into your chest. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice close to your ear. “I didn’t want to make you feel like this.” You breathe in, her scent familiar, spiced tea, something sweet beneath it. It makes the ache worse, somehow. You swallow past the tightness in your throat.

“It’s okay,” you manage, though your voice is unsteady. “It’s not,” she says, softer this time. Your fingers dig into the fabric of her sleeve, just for a second. You don’t know what you’re feeling, but it sits heavy in your ribs, uncomfortable and raw. “I just…” You hesitate, trying to find the words.

“I’ve spent all this time with him, but I don’t really know him. And he ” Your throat tightens. “He knows me.” Chai Latte Cookie pulls back just enough to look at you, her brows knitting together in concern. “That’s not fair to you.” You let out a breathy laugh, but it holds no real humor.

“I know.” She studies you for a long moment before sighing, brushing her thumb over the back of your hand. “Listen,” she says gently. “If you ever need to talk about this, and I mean really talk about it, I'm here, okay?” You nod, though the ache doesn’t fade. Earl Grey Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie haven’t spoken, but they watch you carefully, offering presence in place of words. You appreciate it. Chai Latte Cookie’s grip lingers a moment longer before she finally lets go, smiling, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Come on,” she says, nudging her cup toward you.

“Drink. It’ll make you feel better.” You don’t know if it will. But you take the cup anyway. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shifted closer, his warmth a quiet reassurance, mirroring Chai Latte Cookie’s gestures with his own steady presence. He squeezed your shoulder, just firm enough to ground you. “You know,” he said, keeping his voice light, as if sensing you needed the softness, “you don’t have to figure everything out right now.” His words were meant to comfort, but they only made the ache in your chest tighten. Figure everything out? As if there was anything to figure out. As if this strange, lingering feeling inside you needed to be named.

But it did, didn’t it? You just weren’t ready to say it aloud. Earl Grey Cookie, ever poised, didn’t smother you in warmth the way the others did, but his presence was a balm in its own way. He adjusted his glasses with an air of careful deliberation before speaking.

“If something troubles you, it would be unwise to carry it alone,” he mused, his voice smooth as dark tea. “Emotions are like fine blends best shared, lest they become too bitter to swallow.” You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Are you comparing my feelings to tea?” Earl Grey Cookie’s lips quirked in a barely-there smile. “Would you expect any less from me?” Chai Latte Cookie giggled, and even Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out an amused breath.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The dinner table felt heavier than it had when you arrived, your appetite dulled by the weight in your chest. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t even his fault. But you hadn’t realized, not until this moment, just how attached you’d become. And still, you told yourself it wasn’t anything more. But the dull ache in your chest wanted to say otherwise. Of course, your friends knew. They weren’t blind. They saw the way you lingered in your own thoughts, how your eyes softened at the mention of him, how your chest rose just a little lighter at the sound of his voice. But they wouldn’t say it for you. Not until you were ready.

And right now, you weren’t. So instead, you let them be there for you. You let Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s steady touch remind you that you weren’t alone. You let Chai Latte Cookie’s quiet warmth soothe the edges of your unease. You let Earl Grey Cookie’s careful words give you a sense of control, however fleeting. You let yourself be held in the way only friends could hold you. And for now, that was enough.

The gardens were quiet tonight. The faint hum of nocturnal magic wove through the air, barely perceptible beneath the rustling of the willows and the occasional ripple of the reflecting pool. You traced idle patterns into the stone bench beside you, your fingertips cool against its weathered surface. It was peaceful. It was yours. And yet, you were not at peace. You exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking under the weight of your own thoughts. Foolish, wasn't it? How much could change in the span of a day? How quickly a simple conversation could unravel something you had not even realized was fragile until now? You had sat at this very bench countless times before, but tonight, the air felt heavier.

Your friends had been right. Who was he, really? A figure of brilliance, a mind beyond compare, a presence that carried itself with an effortless grace. He was revered, admired, respected. His name was spoken with awe in the halls of the Academy, his intellect the kind that shaped scholars for generations to come. And you? You had only ever seen glimpses of him pieces of a much greater whole. And yet, in some foolish, unguarded way, you had allowed him to see you. It felt unfair. Your fingers curled into your palm.

You had seen something of him today that no lecture hall could capture, something beyond truth-seeking, beyond measured wisdom. A moment in which he was simply himself, the music flowing from his fingers, his expression softened with focus, his gaze distant yet utterly present. It had been mesmerizing. It had made your heart stutter in ways you did not wish to acknowledge. And now, here you were. Hiding away in the place you had once brought him, as if trying to reclaim something, as if trying to pull yourself back into the comfort of before. But even this place had changed. Because now, he had been here too. You let your head fall back, staring up through the willow branches. They swayed gently, their glow pulsing faintly in the darkness. A part of you wished you had never invited him. That you had never let him into your space, where you could pretend you were not affected. But another part of you… Another part of you was glad he had come.

The sky stretched endlessly above you, deep indigo melting into black, pricked with shimmering stars that scattered like flecks of silver dust. A familiar sight one you had gazed upon countless times before, from this very spot, no less. Yet tonight, it felt different. Or perhaps, you were different. You exhaled, watching as your breath curled faintly in the night air. You shouldn’t have been thinking about him. And yet, the stars only served as a reminder, twinkling reflections of his hair, that impossible cascade of dark silk shot through with light, shifting even in stillness. You could picture it perfectly, the way it had moved as he sat beside you, strands slipping over his shoulder like liquid dusk.

"It is… a reflection of who I am."

Your own words came back to haunt you. "So that means… your true personality must be beautiful." A quiet warmth had settled in his golden eyes then, unreadable yet thoughtful, as if turning the words over in his mind. As if he had not expected them. And you? You had been so caught up in the moment, in the effortless rhythm of conversation, that you hadn’t realized, hadn’t understood what was happening. Not until now. Your fingers curled against the cool stone of the bench. What were you doing? You barely knew him. So what if he played the harpsichord? So what if his laughter, so rare, so carefully contained had managed to weave its way into your thoughts, lingering like the final note of a song long after the melody had faded? So what if his hair shimmered like a starry sky, if his presence felt like something grand yet unreachable, if his voice carried the weight of knowledge and mystery alike? What else did you actually know?

What was his favorite color? His favorite meal? Did he even have a favorite meal, or was he the type to forgo such simple pleasures in pursuit of loftier things? Who were his friends? Did he have any? You frowned. You had never once seen him linger with others outside of academic discussions. No quiet moments of shared meals in the dining halls, no casual conversations in the corridors. Only debates, lessons, the ever-constant pursuit of truth.

And yet… he had found you that day. Had sought you out. That should have meant something, shouldn’t it? But what if it didn’t? What if that was simply who he was, someone who never left questions unanswered? If he had sought you out, it wasn’t because he missed you. It wasn’t because he cared. It was because you had not shown up. Because he was expecting you. Your chest ached. It was foolish. It was foolish to have let yourself grow attached, to have let the glimpses of him a quiet laugh, a thoughtful gaze, the rare and fleeting moments of softness mean something. And yet, what was worse… was that it wasn’t his fault. He had never promised anything. He had never given you a reason to believe he was anything but what he had always been the Sage of Truth.

Not Shadow Milk, not the man beyond the title, beyond the wisdom, beyond the grandeur. Just the Sage. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms against your temples as if that might somehow ease the dull ache spreading through you. Was he taken? The thought struck like a cruel whisper, unwelcome and unbidden. You had no idea. He was private. Mysterious. The kind of person who could have been spoken for, deeply committed to someone, and no one would ever know. And if he was? You swallowed hard, ignoring the way your throat tightened. Then it had never been yours to hold onto in the first place. The wind stirred the willow branches above you, their leaves casting shifting shadows along the ground. The koi-like creatures in the reflecting pool swam lazily beneath the water, unbothered, unburdened. You envied them. Your hands fell limply into your lap, your shoulders sagging beneath the weight of it all. You were just another student. He was the Sage of Truth.

And yet, the ache in your chest whispered that even knowing all of this, you would still meet him tomorrow. You would still listen to his voice, still try to understand the way his mind worked, still watch the way his golden eyes flickered with something warm, something almost gentle, whenever he looked at you.

Because despite everything, despite the foolishness of it all… You weren’t ready to let go. With a slow, heavy exhale, you let your shoulders slump, exhaustion settling over you like a thick, inescapable fog. What was the point in dragging yourself back to your dorm when sleep was already pulling at your limbs, threatening to drag you under? Here, beneath the willow’s gentle canopy, with the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant ripple of the reflecting pool, the world felt softer, less overwhelming.

It wasn’t as if anyone was here to stop you. You shifted slightly, curling in on yourself as you leaned back against the stone bench. The cool surface pressed against your spine, grounding you, yet offering no protest as you allowed your body to sink further into its embrace. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy. The Academy felt so far away from here. The expectations, the lessons, the weight of failure all melted into the background, lost beneath the hum of the wind and the distant croak of a nightbird. Maybe, just for tonight, you didn’t have to think about anything. Not about your classes. Not about your struggles. Not about him. You exhaled one last time before letting sleep take you.

You awoke to the stiff ache of your neck protesting even the smallest movement. A dull, throbbing pain settled at the base of your skull, a punishment for the way you’d let yourself slump awkwardly on the stone bench overnight.

For a moment, you sat there, groggy and dazed, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the willow leaves. The Academy Gardens were still quiet, untouched by the usual morning bustle, and the air was crisp with the lingering scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine. It would have been peaceful, had a sudden realization not struck you like a bucket of cold water.

What time was it?

Your stomach twisted as you scrambled upright, your joints aching from the awkward position you had slept in. Without even checking your reflection in the water, you grabbed your things and bolted from the garden, feet pounding against the mossy paths as you rushed toward the main halls. You barely made it through the doors, heart racing, before the bells signaling the start of the first period rang out.

You were disheveled.

Your uniform was wrinkled, a stray leaf still clung to your sleeve, and your hair...oh, you didn’t even want to think about your hair. You smoothed it down quickly as you ducked into the lecture hall, ignoring the curious glances from a few students already seated. Sliding into your usual spot, you caught your breath, trying to ignore the stiffness in your neck. You’d have to suffer through the day like this.

You slumped slightly in your seat, rolling your shoulder in a weak attempt to ease the stiffness in your neck as you waited for your friends. The morning rush had left you slightly winded, and you knew you must’ve looked a mess your uniform wrinkled, your hair hastily smoothed down but still undeniably unkempt, and a faint, lingering imprint on your cheek from where you’d pressed against the stone bench.

It wasn’t long before Chai Latte Cookie arrived, sliding into the seat beside you with a puzzled expression. Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey followed shortly after, both eyeing you with quiet curiosity. “You weren’t at breakfast,” Chai Latte Cookie pointed out, tilting her head. “We were wondering where you went.” Hazelnut Biscotti frowned slightly, adjusting his glasses.

“We even thought you might’ve gone ahead, but clearly…” He gave you a once-over. “That wasn’t the case.” Earl Grey merely raised an eyebrow, but his silence spoke volumes. You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to play it off. “I, uh… overslept.” Chai Latte Cookie blinked. “Overslept? Where? Your dorm?” You hesitated for half a second too long. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait.” Then she gasped, leaning in with a scandalized whisper.

“Did you not sleep in your bed?” Hazelnut Biscotti let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for the love of- don’t tell me you-” Before they could properly interrogate you, the lecture hall door swung open with a sharp clack, and Almond Custard Cookie strode in, posture straight and severe as always. The chatter in the room immediately died down as students straightened in their seats.

“Good morning,” he greeted, though his tone was as firm as ever. “I trust that you all have reviewed yesterday’s material.” You forced yourself to sit up properly, silently relieved by the well-timed interruption. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught Chai Latte Cookie leaning just slightly in your direction. “This conversation isn’t over,” she murmured, voice laced with curiosity and concern in equal measure. You sighed. You’d have to deal with that later.

The lecture passed in a blur, your mind still fogged with the lingering exhaustion of a poor night’s sleep. Normally, you’d be the first to slip out of the classroom once dismissed, eager to avoid any unnecessary conversation or scrutiny. But today… there wasn’t much of a point. Chai Latte Cookie was a fast walker, and no matter how much of a head start you tried to get, she’d always catch up. Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey, for all their composed exteriors, were equally determined when it came to making sure you were alright. There was no escaping them. So instead of making a run for it, you packed your things at a normal pace, bracing yourself for the inevitable. Sure enough, Chai Latte Cookie looped her arm through yours the moment you stepped into the hallway, tugging you along with a knowing smile.

“So,” she began, tone as sweet as honey but sharp with intent. “Where did you sleep last night?” You sighed, your attempt at a sheepish grin doing little to disarm her. “Just… my favorite spot.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned behind you.

“You slept on that stone bench again?”

“Wait, again?” Earl Grey Cookie echoed, raising an eyebrow. Chai Latte Cookie’s grip on your arm tightened slightly in a way that told you she was not letting this slide. “No wonder you look like you got steamrolled. Do you know how bad that is for your back?” You rolled your shoulders, still feeling the stiff ache in your neck. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Earl Grey sighed through his nose, his expression unreadable as he studied you. “We would have woken you this morning,” he said, tone softer than usual. “If we had known, that is.”

You looked away, guilt creeping up your spine. You hadn’t meant to worry them. Chai Latte Cookie sighed, letting go of your arm only to poke your forehead lightly. “Next time, just tell us, okay? You don’t have to wander off alone when you’re feeling down.”

Hazelnut Biscotti huffed. “Or at the very least, pick somewhere comfortable to mope.” You let out a small, tired laugh. “Noted.” Your friends exchanged glances, clearly still unconvinced, but they didn’t push further not yet, at least. Instead, Chai Latte Cookie simply linked her arm with yours again and led the way down the hall, her warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. No matter how much of a mess you felt like, they weren’t going to leave you alone. You weren’t sure you minded.

“So,” she began, her voice light but far too knowing. “Care to explain why you slept on that bench?”

“I wasn’t moping, if that’s what you’re all thinking.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed, arching his brow clearly unconvinced. “No one said you were.” You shot him a pointed look. He was gaslighting you. “But since you brought it up…”

“I wasn’t!” you insisted, exasperated. “I just… needed some fresh air. That’s all.” Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head, considering. “Fresh air, huh?” You nodded quickly. “Yes. Fresh air. Perfectly normal, perfectly reasonable fresh air.” Earl Grey finally spoke, his voice as smooth as ever. “And this fresh air just happened to lull you to sleep on a cold stone bench?” You huffed. “It wasn’t cold.”

Hazelnut Biscotti groaned. “That is not the point.” Chai Latte sighed, resting her chin against your shoulder as she continued to walk beside you. “You know, if you wanted fresh air so badly, you could’ve told us. We would’ve gone with you.”

You felt a pang of guilt but shrugged it off. “I didn’t want to bother you.” Earl Grey gave you a pointed look. “And yet, here we are, bothered.” You winced. Okay, maybe that was fair. Chai Latte pulled away just enough to nudge your side. “Next time, tell us. You’re not alone, you know?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded. “Seriously. If you’re going to have a lone sleepover outside your dorm, at least let us know before we have to find out about it.” You hesitated, but the way they all looked at you the concern that lingered just beneath their teasing made something in your chest feel uncomfortably tight. “…Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes.

“Next time, I’ll say something.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned, satisfied, while Hazelnut Biscotti just sighed in relief. Earl Grey, though, watched you for a moment longer before giving you a small nod, as if he knew there was more you weren’t saying but that he’d wait until you were ready. For now, at least, they let the matter rest. But you had no doubt they’d be keeping an even closer eye on you.

The day slipped past in a haze of half-heard lectures and half-hearted notes. You weren’t absent, your body remained in its seat, your pen moved, your eyes followed the text but your mind drifted, floating somewhere between the shimmering stars of Shadow Milk Cookie’s hair and the quiet ache lodged deep in your chest. You weren’t moping. You were just… preoccupied. When the time came for tutoring, your legs carried you forward on instinct, muscle memory guiding you through the halls as though you had no say in the matter. You considered turning back, skipping, just this once. But that would only make things worse.

A/N #2 My exam is tomorrow I feel prepared but still worried about a couple reactions...but I'm still going to do my best also once my exam is done the chains keeping me from my freedom will have been broken yippeee!!! no update tomorrow but probably Wednesday <3 anyways...thanks for being patient these past 4 days have felt like an eternity without speaking to y'all...I will be back in full force and answering questions once I'm fully liberated...my inbox is like piling up so I'll get started on that soon...ALSO I separated the paragraphs more hopefully that makes it easier to read, if not, pls lmk in the comments thanks <3 (I just realized I posted the version where i deleted and added things so some of the transitions are off UPDATE: It's FIXED this time its fr thanks for letting me know something was off in the comments <3)

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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fairycourts · 11 days ago

Text

THE ART OF FLUTING ✧ JING YUAN

curious about his hobbies, you ask Jing Yuan to teach you to play the flute. you do not expect him be such a... hands-on teacher.

contents ✧ gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), fluff, a lot of physical touch, slightly suggestive, an intimate afternoon. 2.0k words. note ✧ inspired by the official art of him holding a flute and by my experiences with being a flutist! a huge thank you to @petrichorium for beta reading this and helping me make sure he's in character. (thanks plu, ily!)

You ask him on a whim.

“Jing Yuan, can I try your flute?”

He pauses in the middle of disassembling the instrument, having spent the past hour spinning melodies into the warm, afternoon air. “You would like me to teach you?” he asks in confirmation. At your nod, the skin around his eyes wrinkle, eyes forming crescent moons as the curl of a pointer finger beckons you toward him. “Curious little thing.” The words are spoken soft and low, a rumble that sends a shiver up your spine.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You focus on carefully laying a red silk ribbon between the pages of your book before setting it aside. The grass of the garden crinkles softly beneath your feet with every step, bringing you before the General sitting on the wooden veranda, whose golden eyes have not left your form since you asked him the question.

You rock once on the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind you. “What do I do?”

His head tilts, silvery-grey hair falling over one eye. “How will I teach you when you’re so far away, hm?” Cloth rustles as he languidly spreads his legs, thighs straining against the fabric of his pants. Jing Yuan pats at the space between his legs.

Your voice comes out strangled. “You want me to sit there?”

He ignores your question, simply choosing to smile. The honey-gold of his eyes coax and pull until you give in and step against the edge of the veranda. You turn and slowly take a seat, his gaze burning through you, licking a trail of heat up your spine. His thighs bracket yours, warm and unyielding.

“Good,” he says when you are settled, your back a sparrow’s hop away from pressing into his chest. “Shall we begin?”

At your shallow nod, he brings his flute in front of you, arms settling around you closer than what you think is necessary.

The lacquered wood gleams a soft, light brown. Jing Yuan’s thumb brushes over the first hole on the left side of the flute. “This is the embouchure hole.” His voice is a comforting rumble as he explains the basics. “Sound is produced by putting your lower lip against this side”—he touches the side of the hole closest to you—”and blowing a steady stream of air, aiming for the outside wall. Shall we give it a try?”

You look over your shoulder, squinting at him. “That’s it? What about the fingers?”

His tone is fond as he says, “The biggest challenge for novice players is producing a steady, full tone. Let us achieve that first before I teach you the notes. Do you find that acceptable?”

The sparkle of amusement in his liquid-gold eyes makes you a bit shy as you huff and look forward again. “Fine. Let me try.”

He raises his arms, left and right hands properly holding the flute, and brings the instrument to your mouth. One of your hands reaches for Jing Yuan’s arm and he lets you move them without any resistance, muscles shifting beneath your palm as you make him lower the flute just a bit so you do not need to strain your neck to reach it. It takes a few moments longer to comfortably rest your lower lip on the instrument, making sure to not cover the opening.

You take a slow, deep breath. Your shoulders rise as you inhale, staying tense as you pause, then exhale with a whoosh through pursed lips.

All you hear is the barely-there whistle of wind blowing through a hollow tube.

You try again, but the flute makes no sound. One more time, for good measure. The hollow, airy whistle only seems to mock you. Your face grows hot.

Sensing your mounting frustration, Jing Yuan pulls the flute away and holds it off to the side. He frees a hand to comfort you, rubbing you from shoulder to elbow, shoulder to elbow, with slow, warm strokes.

“Do not fret,” he croons. “It takes time for one to make a sound on the flute. When Yanqing first started learning, he spent two weeks practicing before he was able to play a single note.”

“Really?” You don’t recall ever seeing Yanqing with a flute.

“After he made that sound, he declared that he had spent enough time on something other than swordsmanship. I offered to teach him more later, but he expressed little interest.” Jing Yuan chuckles at the memory.

A small smile graces your lips. You relax a bit, finally leaning into his broad chest as he continues to rub your arm.

“I could impart additional advice, if you wish to try again.”

Frustration eased, you are eager to give the flute another attempt, and you relay that to your lover. He sounds pleased as he begins to explain the different factors that can affect how a player produces a note. His voice rises and falls—a soothing cadence. You become absorbed in listening to him, occasionally tilting your head back to look at him, where his warm gaze holds yours until you grow shy and face forward again.

He removes his hand from your arm, drawing your gaze to him once more. “It is important to breathe from your stomach, not with your shoulders.” A searing heat against your belly makes your breath hitch. You turn to see his hand settle there, thick fingers spread out in a way that only draws attention to his size. You can’t look away.

“Let us practice some breathing exercises. Focus on moving my hand as you breathe.” His voice rumbles through you as his touch binds you together, melting two into one. “Ready?”

Your nod is shallow and so are your breaths. How are you supposed to go through with these exercises?

“Inhale,” he instructs.

You try, breath wobbling as you inhale quickly.

He clicks his tongue in warning. “Slowly. Fill your lungs with air.”

You breathe again, taking care to do so deeply, focusing on the weight of his hand on your belly. It rises and falls with every breath as you grow used to the rhythmic lull of slow, deep breathing.

“Well done,” he all but purrs into your ear.

Surely he feels the tremor that runs through you, with the way you’re pressed against each other. Yet Jing Yuan simply moves on to discussing another aspect of flute playing, giving you a moment to regain composure. “The shape of your embouchure also impacts your ability to make a sound. May you demonstrate how you blew into the flute earlier?”

Nodding, you look over your shoulder and purse your lips into a rosebud, then relax and tell him, “I was blowing like that.”

“I see.” Mirth radiates off him, sparkling in his eyes, and your lips push into a pout. His thumb rubs against your belly in consolation as he says, “I suggest relaxing your lips so they form a horizontal line against the flute. Leave a small opening in the middle, the way you usually do when drinking freshly brewed tea and are cautious about burning yourself.”

You are reminded of the afternoon teas you’ve enjoyed in his presence and your pout turns into a smile as you take in his advice.

A twinge in your neck makes you adjust yourself, pulling one leg up to lean against his thigh, upper body twisting around to face him. One hand rests on his broad chest and his free hand supports your lower back. Earnestly, you try again, making an effort to pull your lips into a tight line and blowing a gust of air through them.

The wind you blow ruffles Jing Yuan’s hair, making more of it fall into his eye. You shoot him a cheeky look before doing it again. Now it’s his turn to pout to your delighted giggles and you blow one more time for good measure.

But the General will not allow himself to be teased endlessly, especially when he has a chance to strike back. A glint crosses his eyes, as if a switch has been flicked. You don’t have time to react as the hand on your lower back disappears, only to come up to grasp your face. His hand is huge, fingers pressing into your cheeks as your chin is cradled in his palm, forcing you to look at him.

“If you are going to behave in this manner, you will learn the proper embouchure. Understood?”

His firm grip only allows you to give a shallow nod, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat, pulse fluttering like a songbird under his piercing stare.

“Good. Now show me again.” His fingers ease up so he’s simply tilting your face toward him, forcing you to hold his gaze.

Swallowing, you try again. Lips pull tightly in a line, an opening in the middle for air. “Like that?”

“Hmm, not quite.” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, golden eyes tracing the curve of it. “Your mouth is too tight. Soften your lower lip, the same way you pouted moments ago.”

Doing as he suggests, you pull your lips straight while keeping them relaxed, only feeling a bit of tightness at the corners of your mouth.

Jing Yuan runs his thumb across your lower lip again, feeling the plush give of it under his touch. A pleased smile graces his face at the expression on your face. “Perfect form,” he praises. “Do you wish to try the flute again?”

A shuddering breath escapes your lips, tickling the pad of his thumb that he has yet to move. “Yes, please.”

You turn around in his lap, a bit relieved to escape his observant gaze. But perhaps the heat of his chest at your back and his hand returning to your belly is not much better either.

“Remember to breathe from your stomach,” he says, as his arms settle around you to bring the flute to your lips once again.

This time, as your lower lip finds the curved surface of the flute, the shape of your mouth feels more relaxed and natural. You draw in a breath, slowly and deeply, stomach expanding. There’s a moment of pause, lungs at full capacity–

Then you blow. A thin stream of air rushes through your lips, passing over the embouchure hole and filling the barrel of the instrument, culminating in a bright, steady note that sings in the quiet of the afternoon air. You blow for as long as there is air in your lungs, pulling away from the flute when the note fades away.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in the newly fallen silence.

Then, eyes glimmering, you stand and turn, throwing yourself back into Jing Yuan’s arms. He catches the weight of you easily, arm strong behind your back as he holds you against him. He sets his flute down and helps adjust your legs so you sit on his thighs, keeping you steady as you pull back to look at him.

“I did it!” Your expression is radiant, pure excitement shining through.

Pride and affection laces his voice, all warm and rich like the honey-gold of his eyes. “Very well done. You’re a fast learner.”

“I have a great teacher,” you say cheekily.

“If you wish to continue your lessons, that can be arranged.”

A smile of delight spreads across your face. “I’d like that. Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

He dips his head, eyes creasing as he smiles too. “You’re very welcome. Now, I still have some time before my next engagement. Would you like to play some more?”

“Yes!”

You settle back into his lap, his chest strong and broad behind you. Jing Yuan picks up his flute and wraps his arms around you, holding up the instrument yet again.

The afternoon passes with you blowing long streams of air into the flute as his fingers move to change the notes. Your combined efforts send melodies spiraling through the air, sweet and easygoing. Sometimes the songs are broken up by mistakes that lead to even sweeter sounds of laughter, or fade into thoughtful conversation and teasing remarks, winding together to create the beautiful melody of an intimate afternoon spent between lovers.

note ✧ this is my first time writing for hsr and for Jing Yuan, so thank you for taking the time to read this! I would love to hear your thoughts ^u^

the flute in this fic is the chinese bamboo flute (or dizi), which I have not had the opportunity to try playing! so the flute aspects here are based off of what I do when I play the horizontal flute and the bit of research I did on the dizi. fun fact: like Yanqing, it did in fact take me two weeks of practice and one lesson before I was able to make my first sound on the flute >.< unlike him, I've kept it up for fourteen years now!

#honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #hsr x you #jing yuan #my writing #my writing: the art of fluting

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adispit · 7 months ago

Text

Notes in the air

bttm m reader x punk guitarist

sypnosis: you meet a punk guitarist and tension seems to simmer in the air…

kinks: edging, orgasm denial, anal fingering, handjob, cream pie, public sex (not rly tbh)

note: week one of kinktober, enjoy!

Discipline had always been a part of your life when it came to playing the erhu. As the known virtuoso of the Shanghai Orchestra, you had been told that every note you made had to be with precision, grace and to be perfection, itself.

Your earliest memories were of disciplined practice sessions with your father, who’d been an erhu player himself. The one who had carved the essence of the elegance of playing the instrument into you through countless sessions.

That’s why the underground punk scene should have meant nothing to you.

And yet, here you are, standing on the edges of a dark, buzzing, dingy venue that stinks of sweat and alcohol. The sharp neon lights that seem to burn itself into your retinas, accompanied by the thick smoke that hangs in the air.

The sharp hum of an electric guitar fills the air, a stark contrast to the soft and calming melody of the orchestra that you’re used to.

You shift uncomfortably in your polished shoes, glancing at the stage, and that’s when you see him—Lan Yu, all messy hair streaked with electric blue, a cocky grin on his face as he commanded the air to come to a standstill with the raw and sharp energy of his guitar.

He’s nothing like you. And yet, for reasons you can’t explain, you can’t take your eyes off him.

You didn’t plan to stay. You didn’t even want to come. But a colleague convinced you—something about expanding your musical horizons. Something about meeting a special guitarist they had been raving about lately named Lan Yu.

Now you’re regretting it as you try to navigate the chaos around you, the crowd pressing in on all sides. The venue is too loud, too chaotic, and everything about it feels wrong.

But then, Lan Yu starts to play. And you stop thinking entirely.

His fingers fly across the strings of his guitar, each note wild and reckless, like he’s barely keeping control. It’s nothing like the disciplined movements you’re used to. It’s messy and raw and… captivating.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until the set ends, and people start to move around you. You feel out of place, unsure why you haven’t left yet.

And that’s when you hear his voice. Low, teasing, and far too close.

“First time at a punk show, huh?”

You blink, turning toward him, and find Lan Yu standing there, sweaty from his performance. He grins like he owns the world and is close enough that you can smell the faint trace of sweat and leather on him. His presence is magnetic, and it makes your chest tighten in a way you’re not used to.

You nod stiffly, trying to regain your composure. “It’s… different.”

Lan Yu laughs, a sound that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Different good or different bad?”

You glance away, feeling oddly exposed under his gaze. “Different loud.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, the scent of leather and smoke lingering around him. “Yeah, you look like someone who prefers things a bit quieter. Don’t worry, 宝贝, you’ll get used to it.”

The nickname—sweet, playful, almost mocking—makes something stir in your chest, but you force your expression to stay neutral. “Don’t call me that.”

Lan Yu’s grin doesn’t falter. “What? You don’t like pet names? Relax, 宝贝, it’s just a little fun.”

There’s something about the way he says it, about the way he looks at you, that sets your nerves on edge.

You’re not sure if it’s annoyance or something else entirely.

You start showing up more often. You tell yourself it’s because of the music, because you’re curious about how someone like Lan Yu creates such… chaos. You didn’t really know if that was true though.

You find yourself watching him—watching the way his body moves when he plays, the way he commands the stage with a raw, unfiltered energy that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

The way sweat glistens on his skin under the harsh stage lights, the way his eyes would scan the crowd, sharp and alive, and sometimes, they would lock on yours, holding your gaze just a moment too long.

He always notices.

And every time he catches you staring, that smirk of his gets a little wider, a little more knowing.

One night, after another one of his explosive sets, you find yourself lingering near the back of the bar. You don’t know why. Maybe you’re hoping to slip away unnoticed, or maybe you’re hoping he’ll find you.

And of course, he does.

“You keep coming back,” Lan Yu says, appearing next to you like he always does—suddenly and without warning. “What’s the deal? You into punk now, or… something else?”

You glance at him, trying to keep your expression straight, but there’s no denying the way your heart quickens at the proximity between you. The tension hums in the air, electric, like the sound of his guitar. “I’m just… curious.”

Lan Yu raises an eyebrow, stepping closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Curious about me or the music?”

You shoot him an annoyed look, trying to ignore the way your heart seems to hammer against your rib cage, how your stomach seems to coil in on itself. “Does it matter?”

He laughs, low and rough, and the sound makes something twist in your stomach. “Not really. Either way, I win.”

Before you can respond, Lan Yu is suddenly much closer, his body heat palpable. “You’re way too serious, you know that?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Mind telling why you keep coming huh, 亲爱的?”

Your heart is pounding now, mind racing. You try to stay calm, but Lan Yu’s closeness is doing things to you, stirring something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

”You’re… impossible,” you manage to squeak out, your voice coming out weaker than intended.

Lan Yu smirks, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. “And you’re too stiff.”

He brushes his fingers against your arm, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Loosen up, 宝贝. The world won’t end if you let yourself feel something.”

Despite everything, you start letting him into your world, too. You invite him to your rehearsals, curious to see how someone so wild would react to the world of traditional Chinese orchestra.

To your surprise, Lan Yu sits quietly in the back, watching you play with an intensity that unnerves you. He’s always so loud, so chaotic, but in those moments, he’s silent—focused on you, and only you.

One evening, after a performance, you catch him waiting for you outside the concert hall. The city lights casts a soft glow around him, making him look almost… ethereal, though you’d never tell him that.

“宝贝，你真是帅死了.” Lan Yu’s voice was low and teasing, but there was something darker in his eyes as he leaned against the wall, watching you with a lazy grin.

You roll your eyes, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Would you stop calling me that?”

“Nope.” Lan Yu smothers you into a tight embrace, and you catch a faint scent of his cologne, the world seemingly melting away. “Not until you stop blushing every time I do.”

Your breath hitches, and you turn away, hoping the dim light will hide the blush creeping up your neck. “别乱说话.”

Lan Yu chuckles softly, pressing his lips lightly to your temple before pulling back. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice dropping to a rasp. “I already know.”

The next few days, you try to immerse yourself back in your rehearsals, hoping that the familiar rhythms of the erhu will ground you again.

But Lan Yu has taken root in your mind, his voice, his touch, his teasing smile replaying in an endless loop that makes your pulse quicken at the most inconvenient times.

And Lan Yu? He isn’t making it any easier. He keeps showing up to your rehearsals, casually draped over a chair in the back, watching you with that infuriatingly smug grin, as if he knows exactly how much he is getting under your skin.

One evening, after the orchestra had finished for the night and the rehearsal hall was nearly empty, you find yourself alone with Lan Yu once again. The silence between the both of you is thick with unspoken words, tension almost unbearable.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lan Yu remarks, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

He stands near the window, the soft glow of the city lights behind him casting his features in sharp relief.

You look up from your erhu, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been focused.”

“On what?” Lan Yu’s gaze is intense, like he can see right through your carefully constructed facade.

“On my music.” It is the truth, but even as you say it, you know it isn’t the whole truth. Your music has always been your anchor, but now it feels like something else has shifted, like your music has taken on a different meaning, tied up in the growing tension between you and him.

Lan Yu’s smirk softens into something more thoughtful as he crosses the room, coming to stand just in front of you.

His fingers trail along the edge of the instrument, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looks down at the delicate craftsmanship of the erhu.

“You know, there’s something beautiful about how precise you are,” Lan Yu murmurs, his voice lower now, almost intimate. “The way you hold the erhu, the way you control every note. But don’t you ever get tired of control?”

You can’t seem to muster any words to reply him. You know what Lan Yu is doing, but it doesn’t stop the effect it has on you.

“Control is necessary,” you reply, voice strained, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping in.

Lan Yu’s eyes gleams as he leans in, closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Is it? Or is it just an excuse to keep yourself from feeling too much?”

The question hits harder than you expected, and your grip on the erhu tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, though even you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Lan Yu doesn’t back down. Instead, he moves closer, until you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck. His hand comes up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Maybe you just need someone to help you let go,” Lan Yu whispers, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

Blood is rushing to your head, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You can feel the pull between the both of you, the magnetic force that has been building for weeks, threatening to snap.

Your mind screamed at you to pull away, to reassert control, but your body… your body was betraying you.

Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing the front of Lan Yu’s shirt, pulling him close. For a moment, you are chest to chest, the air between him and you charged with unspoken desire.

Lan Yu’s eyes darkens, his grin fading into something far more serious as he looks down at you. “Finally,” he breaths, his voice rough with need.

Before you can second-guess yourself, Lan Yu closes distance between him and you, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that had been simmering just beneath the surface for too long.

The kiss is messy, intense, all the tension that had been building, finally breaking free.

Your hands are fisted in Lan Yu’s shirt, pulling him closer as you kiss back with an urgency that surprises even him.

The sharp edge of the erhu digs into your side, but you don’t care.

All you can focus on is the taste of his lips, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the way Lan Yu’s hands grips your waist, grounding you and setting you on fire all at once.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathing heavily, eyes locked. Lan Yu’s lips are swollen, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“See?” Lan Yu whispers, his voice rough, his thumb brushing gently across your bottom lip. “Letting go doesn’t feel so bad, does it?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer, not with the way your heart is pounding, not with the way Lan Yu’s hand has slipped under your crisp, ironed shirt, fingers tracing the skin of your waist in a way that leaves you breathless.

Lan Yu chuckles softly, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’m not going anywhere, 宝贝. You might as well admit you want this.”

Your chest tightens, torn between the desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in Lan Yu.

Lips parting, but before you can utter a single word, Lan Yu’s mouth is on yours again, kissing you deeper, more insistent, like he is determined to make you surrender completely.

A muffled whine slips out as you press yourself flush against Lan Yu. The fabric of the his ripped jeans feels hot as you feel it rub against your fevered thighs through your dress pants.

You sag into the arm wrapped around the small of your back. All of your joints feel like jelly at the soft touch caressing you.

Your erhu lies on the floor, forgotten. You can’t believe you’re doing this, doing this in a hall you just performed a solo in front of your father an hour ago. He would be furious.

“Pay attention, 宝贝.” Lan Yu shrugs at your shirt as you stare at him dazedly through your eyelashes. The cold air hits your feverish skin as you shed your pants, pulling a sharp gasp from your spit slicked lips.

Your leaking cock springs out, begging for his attention, earning an amused huff from him. His thumb snags at the tip of your dick as it circles, collecting precum.

“Please- hahh, oh god.” You keen, all semblance of propriety leaving you as you throw your head back, hands digging into his shoulders with the concert lights shining down at you above.

You feel the oncoming orgasm approaching like a tidal wave about to consume you in its entirety as Lan Yu wraps his rough, calloused hand around your sensitive cock and picks up in pace.

Your nerves are alight, like a firework soaring through the night sky as a choked cry is ripped from you, echoing through the hall.

Suddenly, it stops.

The high you were riding on suddenly crashes into the cold hard ground as you’re left reeling in confusion.

A crushed, strangled sound leaves your lips.

“Lan Yu, w-what was that for?” Your flushed face is pulled into a confused frown.

“Sorry, 宝贝. Can’t have you coming so soon.” Lan Yu lets out a throaty laugh, hands settling into the dips of your back, making your hips jerk as you swallow down an angry protest.

You’re gently guided to grip the hard plastic handles of a nearby seat with arms that feel boneless as your ass is presented before his roving eyes.

His slender fingers, used to strum the guitar, are coated with your precum, which prods and breaches your rim. Two of them continue their way into you, pressing forward with gently, twisting lightly each time they meet a spot of unyielding tightness.

Lan Yu manages to sink in the whole length of his middle and forefinger into you, the pads of his fingers dancing over your prostate, your quiet whimpers shifting to continuous groans as you grip onto the cold plastic, hips quaking.

“Ah-Ah-Ah! L-Lan Yu!” A series of choked sobs are ripped from your throat, voice shattering.

“Not yet, 宝贝.” He soothes, fingers now replaced by an emptiness that seems to gnaw away at you. You’re just barely teetering over the cliff into pure ecstasy, inciting a raw sob from you, body burning up like a livewire.

Before you can even catch your breath, Lan Yu sheathes himself into your warmth in one go. The stretch burns, feels so good. “好乖啊，宝贝.” Lan Yu purrs, chest heaving and sweat soaking his top as he pulls back and meets your rippling flesh.

Moisture gathers in the corners of your eyes as you writhe in tandem with his thrusts just dragging against your prostrate perfectly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly under the new onslaught, each exhale punctuated with a moan.

You’re barely holding on by an inch now, nails scratching at the plush material of the seat as you twitch and buck at the ministrations chipping away at you.

“Close…!” Your voice cracks sharply.

“听话.” Lan Yu groans, nails painted black raking down your sides as he loses himself in the tight, warm heat of your insides repeatedly clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Let’s come together, 宝贝.” He adds as he slams into you, burying his dick deep in your ass as the rhythm of his thrusts began to stutter.

You hum out an incoherent slur through the haze of lust that seems to cloud at your mind and render you mute, as drool trails down your chin. You’ve been reduced to a squirming mess, ready to burst at any moment.

Finally, Lan Yu stops and hot cum paints your hot, pulsing walls as he lets out a low growl of satisfaction. Then there’s the moment where you freeze, scrabbling at the edge, before tipping over. Your whole body jerks violently and you arch your back impossibly as you finally feel the sweet release.

“Lan Yu!” You let out a hoarse yelp.

The first pulse is a hot dribble, and then your cock splatters cum all over the seat, the floor. Strings of semen paint everything in white as you come and come, crying out brokenly.

“K-kiss me…” You growl frustratedly as you weakly glare at him, no bite in your voice as you bask in the afterglow of your well-deserved orgasm. “And no more doing this at the concert hall!” You add, as he presses you into a chaste kiss that muffles his laugh.

Translations and more!

宝贝 - baby

亲爱的 - my love

宝贝，你真的是帅死了 - baby, you’re so amazing (literal translation is handsome but in this context he’s praising you)

别乱说话 - don’t speak nonsense

好乖啊，宝贝- baby, you’re so obedient

听话 - be obedient

Lan Yu’s name in Chinese is 蓝羽.

The erhu (二胡) what reader plays is a Chinese two-stringed bowed instrument. Here’s a reference.

note: that’s week one of kinktober!!! Lan Yu is such a dream honestly haha, he’s one of my more green flag ocs!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 🫶

#bottom male reader #sub male reader #mlm #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #uke male reader #male reader smut #x male reader #kinktober #x original character

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bamfkeeper · 7 months ago

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Choke.

RQ: 'I can't remember if I put this in or not so ignore this if I did, but PLSSSS that Kurt choking drabble w/ his tail that another asker suggested...... I beg of you 💙 I read your work non-stop it's SO good' - @citiirose

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ | Tail play, choking, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk

A/N: Hehe I'm happy to deliver <3 This is a little drabble so it's shorter than a regular fic, but ugh it was fun to do. He'd be so cheeky about this. I know not everyone likes WatXM Kurt, but I like the tail wiggle in the gif sooo. I always choose pics/versions I think match the scenario. BUT you imagine whichever one you want! Unedited ;; WC: 1.3k

Kurt was well aware of your fondness for his tail, and the mischievous German never missed an opportunity to tease you with its gentle spade. He would utilize it in various, tantalizing ways, each designed to heighten your senses and stir your desires in inappropriate situations. He would trace delicate patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine.

Or he would allow it to graze ever so lightly between your legs, igniting that dark spark of anticipation within you. And if he was feeling particularly cheeky, he would playfully tap it against your ass, eliciting a soft sound from your lips.

Given his penchant for incorporating his tail into his flirtatious repertoire, it was no surprise when Kurt decided to explore its potential in more intimate settings. The bedroom became a new playground.

He buried himself into you, balls slapping your ass as he thrusted into you. His hips moved in swift, rhythmic motions as his hands firmly grasped your form, his fuzzy chest pressing against the smooth expanse of your bare back. Kurt's lips found their way to your ear, whispering an array of sweet nothings, his voice thick with his distinctive accent and growing increasingly breathy as he exerted himself, his impressive stamina never failed him.

Your body responded instinctively to him, gentle moans escaping your lips and increasing with every thrust he delivered. These sounds of pleasure were effortlessly drawn out by his expert touch, he knew how to play you like an instrument he mastered. Between ragged breaths, you managed to speak, your voice heavy with desire. "Oh, Kurt... you feel so good..." The words tumbled from your lips as your body unconsciously pressed further into his embrace.

He grinned and exposed his fangs, his tail slowly snaking up your body with deliberate, teasing movements. The flexible appendage traced delicate patterns across your skin, your body tried to lean into it as it snaked around you. He gradually encircled your neck, the warm, velveteen texture felt delicious on your heated flesh.

As he applied a gentle pressure, you felt your pulse quicken, the sensation of his tail wrapped around your throat igniting a primal response within you. Your core throbbed with an intensity that surprised even you, each subtle squeeze sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The light constriction began to affect your senses, creating a heady mix of arousal and lightheadedness that was intoxicating.

The slight restriction of blood flow induced a euphoric buzz, your mind growing pleasantly hazy as your other senses seemed to sharpen in response. Every touch, every breath, every subtle movement became magnified, your nerve endings singing with heightened sensitivity. It was as if Kurt had unlocked a new realm of sensory experience, one that teetered exquisitely on the edge of danger and ecstasy. You played with your senses during sex before, since his body held such a unique texture, but this…was completely new and hot.

A breathy, desperate mewl seemed to come from the very depths of your being, escaping your lips and making his pointed ears prick up. Your body moved of its own accord, pressing back against Kurt with an urgency that surprised even you. The friction between your bodies only served to stoke the flames of your desire higher.

"Kurt..." you gasped, your voice thick with need and raw emotion. "Yes, yes!" The words tumbled from your lips in a frenzied litany, each syllable dripping with unbridled arousal. "Kurt..." you moaned again, your inhibitions crumbling in the face of overwhelming pleasure as you tried to convey your desires without getting lost. "Squeeze harder!" The plea erupted from you, a passionate demand born of pure, unadulterated want. Your voice was usually so controlled, but now it quivered with the intensity of your arousal.

He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise at your passionate reaction to being choked with his tail, exhilaration coursed through him as he processed your unexpected enthusiasm. After a moment of stunned silence, Kurt's lips curved into a devilish grin, his golden eyes gleaming with newfound intrigue.

Chuckling softly, he decided to indulge your apparent desire, carefully tightening his tail ever so slightly around your neck. The pressure increased just enough to be noticeable, but remained far from causing any actual harm or discomfort. The spade slowly squirmed its way past your lips, laying on your tongue as he felt your saliva gather and drool out past your lips. Kurt's voice dropped to a low, husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Ach, you like this, liebling? Well, well...you are quite the naughty little thing, aren't you? I must admit, I didn't realize you'd derive such pleasure from having mein tail curled around your neck like this..." His words were laced with a mixture of amusement and growing arousal, his hips snapped into you faster, his cock felt like it was throbbing inside you. Precum pooling inside you, coating your inner walls as he edged you to feeling his load to come.

You let out open, unrestrained moans as his spade pressed firmly against your tongue, your mouth remained slightly agape, a mix of pleasure and anticipation evident in your expression. Your hips were driven by intense desire, pressed back eagerly into his with each thrust delivered, seeking more contact, more friction. Meanwhile his tail continued to gently coil around your neck, adding another layer of sensation to the already intense experience.

He expertly manipulated the pressure, applying more force for several tantalizing seconds before loosening his grip, only to repeat the process again and again. This rhythmic pulsing sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each cycle building upon the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. You felt your face grow hot when he increased the pressure and lessened the blood flow, it was so damn good.

"Squeeze harder, I can take it, goddamnit…please Kurt, don’t fucking trade me anymore!" you begged, the words tumbled from your lips without thought or hesitation. You found yourself in a state of arousal unlike anything you had experienced before, the intensity of your desire catching you off guard. You couldn't pinpoint the exact source of this overwhelming horniness, nor could you fully comprehend why you were acting so desperate and wanton. Kurt hadn’t really choked you before, besides a light touch to your neck with his hand. Was it really just his tail that was making you feel this way?

All rational thought had been pushed aside, replaced by a singular, all-consuming need. In this moment, all you wanted, all you could focus on, was the burning desire to reach your climax, to feel that sweet release that seemed so close yet frustratingly out of reach.

Your desperate plea was abruptly muffled as his spade-tipped tail pushed deeper into your mouth, effectively silencing your words. You emitted a stifled sound in response; while it didn't obstruct your breathing, it successfully prevented you from articulating further demands.

"Such a vulgar tongue..." Kurt growled, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he nipped at your earlobe with his razor-sharp teeth. "Perhaps I need to teach you in the art of proper etiquette, liebe?" The term of endearment contrasted sharply with the dark promise in his tone. "Your release will come only when you've mastered the skill of asking politely...without that filthy language."

His prehensile tail constricted further around your neck, the pressure intensifying to an almost unbearable degree. The sensation was overwhelming, causing your eyes to roll back in your head as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Your sex throbbed and twitched, desperate and threatening to cum just from the feeling of his tail choking you. Kurt maintained his relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust driving his cock as deep as it could go and guiding you closer to the edge of ecstasy while denying you the final push you so desperately craved.

“Now…let’s see how long you last.”

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner smut #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler smut #x men #xmen #x men 97 #🎠my works

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brighteyedbushybrowed · 14 days ago

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I've just come back from the first ritual!!! Below the cut is some stuff from the ritual that I would like to note and make public knowledge

I have tagged this post with the spoiler tags "the band ghost spoilers", "ritual spoilers", and "spoilers" for anyone who wants to block those tags until after they've gone to their own ritual tour date show ❤️

Perpetua's speaking voice is slightly higher in pitch than Copia's. Like, when I say slightly it's quite subtle but enough to notice it if you're actively listening for differences

Also he's less talkative than Copia was, which we kinda knew already bc Tobias confirmed this in an interview a few weeks ago

And during his first little. Speech thing?? He asked us all if we'd be gentle with him. And when we shouted no he was like "no?" And when we shouted back no again he said "are you gonna rough me up?" And when we all shouted yes he said "I'll hold you to that" and my god I haven't stopped thinking about that all night. What a night to become a Perpetua stan

In terms of setlist, I counted 5 songs from the new album! The first was played at the start and was an instrumental number, which I assume is gonna be the first track of the album. The second had lyrics about the sun and the moon?? Lachryma was played a little later, which was amazing. Satanized was played later on, also amazing. And there's a fifth song which I remember had a lot of lyrics about shadows? I think??

SPIRIT AND MONSTRANCE CLOCK ARE BACK ON THE SETLIST!!!

MOAC was an encore song instead of on the main set along with Dance Macabre and Square Hammer

DATHOML was played for the first time and it was beautiful. I think Perpetua expected us to shout back the whispered bits bc when we didn't do that he... idk what the expression was he made when I looked at him on the screen. Kinda like a "oh well nevermind" expression??

Outfits: he slays in all of them

My favourites were the pink sequin fuck you jacket for Square Hammer. And you guys remember the robes in that one picture where he's sat down and the robes have big skeletal hands on the shoulders? Well on the back is a spine, a pelvis, I can't remember if there were ribs or not, and A LONG BONE TAIL THAT STOPS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE ROBE

I won't spoil the backdrop or anything for yall bc it was so amazing that I need you guys to experience it blind. Oh my god. I was astounded

Perpetua blew us all kisses after the encore and I was like 🥹 the entire time

This could be the beginning of me returning to Ghost fanfic writing ngl. Perpetua is going to be on my mind constantly now.

And I wanna say a big MASSIVE thank you to Tobias, the ghouls, the techs, and everyone at the venue who made this such a wonderful experience. I'm genuinely so glad I couldn't use my phone bc I felt so present and engaged and the memories are smth I'll treasure forever

#the band ghost #the band ghost spoilers #ritual spoilers #concert spoilers #spoilers #papa v perpetua #perpetua

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mtcloudsworld · 2 months ago

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movie theater.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, theater setting, black!reader intended but it can be anybody, boyfriend! Sylus, boyfriend! Caleb, fingering

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | I had put out a poll maybe a month ago (?) asking who do you think would act on sexual activities with you if you were in a theater? And I wasn't and am not surprised by the results, because honestly? Yeah, it makes perfect sense that Sylus and Caleb won, equally by 30.3 %. Soooooo, with that being said, here is the little drabble I had in mind. I wanted to elongate it but I unfortunately didn't have much more to say. Maybe one day I will come back to this and add more. For now just enjoy a sample of it. (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

In a secluded private section of the theater with a great view of the stage, you sat side by side of one another. with him on the left of you, he watched as your eyes stayed glue on the performance. Although he enjoyed the sounds of the instruments playing on the stage, his mind was elsewhere. Elegant and backless in a shade of a midnight blue, the silky satin dress hugged your figure deliciously. Revealing every curve with just the right amount of skin. The jewelry you wore was subtle with diamonds dazzling upon you, your make up was light, your hair was beautiful and the scent of sweet passion drenched your skin.

It was hard to resist you when you looked and smelled this good. When you feel a firm yet gentle grip around your thigh, the orchestra is completely forgotten. Where your eyes flickered there his hand was nestled on the top of your thigh. His hand, veins subtly pulsing through the soft flesh, was the perfect size to grope and knead at your skin. Palm sending a shiver down your spine, the sweet caress of his thumb against your inner thigh immediately makes you nervous.

Innocently, you wanted to believe this was just out of comfort. Closure, perhaps... but you knew that wasn't the case. He noticed how your body shifts. Darken eyes observing the skirt of your dress revealing more than it should. His fingers start to move. Inching closer and closer up your glowing leg, past the slit of your dress to the darkened space further up your skirt. You freeze, the action sends your heart to a frenzy.

You were sure your arousal grew ten times worse, because where his hand was buried, there, your pulsating cunt lied. lips parted just a hair, you inhale a sharp breath when you feel his sly fingers slithers towards your clothed cunt. Applying pressure where the wet spot was formed, a smug smirk appears to his lips. His fingers begin to draw circles and when he feels you buck to his touch, a breath of pleasure escapes you. His touch, the way he was ever so gently caressing your aching pussy made you whimper "please.." and he takes heed.

Lifting his hand just a little to push the thong to the side, there the pads of his fingers dipped between your fleshy brown folds. You release a heavy sigh. Spreading your legs just enough for him to maneuver. you concentrate on the way his fingers played with your clit, spreading your slick over and over till he's rubbing deliberately slow. He fingers you at a rhythmic pace, dipping his fingers at your soaking entrance to feel your walls clinch and contract around him. A hush gasp falters from your lips when you feel his fingers start to quicken. "right there baby?"

"y-yes." You stutter, "right...there," starting to roll your hips. observing you, nonchalantly with lust eyes, he adores how your face twists in pleasure. Brows knitted upward and mouth hung low, the churning sensation of erotic euphoria builds from within. From earshot, your beautiful raunchy sounds ring over the orchestra. your breathing becomes ridged, your hands gripping at the chair's armrest for dear life. Your hips swivel to the constant jerking of his fingers, and with warning, your climax comes down from its natural high. A creamy white substance paints all over his fingers. Pulling away from you, he indulges at the taste of you, licking your cum from off his fingers with greed and grace.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

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yapperblog · 7 months ago

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Red Red Wine

"Handing my boyfriend a spicy polaroid of myself while we are at dinner"

Tags: established relationship, excibitionism, brief choking, oral (m!rec and fem!rec), PinV unprotected, titjob. +18

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You stand in front of the mirror, fixing your hair and checking your outfit from different angles. You and Joost are going on a date to a restaurant, there is no special occasion really, you both just wanted a reason to get dressed up and spend time together.

"You look great." you feel a pair of warm hands on your hips, your eyes meet Joost's in the mirror. He leans to kiss your shoulder.

You turn in his arms. "Speaking of looking great, look at you." He is wearing a fitted black suit, thick framed black glasses, his hair is freshly trimmed, and when he smiles at your compliment you notice he put in the grills on two of his teeth. He needed to add more personality to the suit. You fix his tie and smooth down the white shirt moving your hands from his pecs down his torso, stopping at the chunky belt buckle.

You turn back to the mirror checking yourself one last time. You are about to bend down to do the strap on your heels.

"Let me." Joost says and kneels in front of you. His hands gently move from your calf to your ankle, his touch is feather light, but still sends a shiver down your spine. He looks up at you and you move your foot closer to him. He puts his his head down to focus on the task at hand, you see a faint smirk form on his lips in the reflection of the mirror. He buckles the strap around your ankle and motions for you to bring your other foot closer. All of his touches are gentle, his hands so warm on your skin.

When he is finished, he leans in to leave a kiss on your exposed leg, just above knee, you feel your cheeks start to go red.

"Thank you." you say quietly as he stands up in front of you, you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

"My pleasure." he bows his head dramatically. He is joking, and his theatrics make you giggle, but it's true - caring for you is a pleasure to him, he would do just about anything for you.

When you are about to leave, you make sure you have the polaroid photo in your purse and rush out of the door, where Joost is waiting for you.

The restaurant you picked is fancier than the usual places you go on a date to, the reviews are great and the dim lighting with candles on each table is making it very cozy. There is a live band playing soft music on the instruments, which Joost is immediately impressed by. His usual music preference is fast and loud to match his energy and fast-pace thoughts, but he appreciates a good live instrument.

After getting seated and ordering, you feel yourself get more nervous about the surprise you prepared for him. You saw a trend of people getting their partner a spicy polaroid of themselves and decided to treat Joost to one too. You bought a new lingerie set, a lacy see-through bra and matching panties with a delicate bow, but one thing let to another, you started trying out new things and poses, so after looking through the results, you decided on the one where you are completely naked. It is on a riskier side, but the idea of him reacting to it here turns your nerves into excitement. But it is not the time to reveal it yet.

"What's on your mind?" Joost asks. He takes your hand in his, tracing his thumb on your skin. You are sitting in a small booth type table, he is on the opposite side of you.

"This handsome guy I saw, actually" you reply, your tone neutral.

"Really? Who is he? Should I check him out too?" he turns to look around the room.

"I think you might know him. He is wearing a nice suit, it looks expensive. The pants fit around his thighs so nice." you whisper the last part and he turns back to look at you. You are glad that your table is a little further away from others and it feels secluded. "And if you are lucky and get him to smile, you will see those silver grills, which make him even hotter, if that's possible." you see a blush spread on his cheeks, but he quickly regains his composure, matching your eye contact.

"Damn, hope he is taken by the prettiest girl, which caught my eye earlier, in this tight silky dress which challenges his willpower to keep his hands away from her in public and not take it off." he squeezes your hand, which he is still holding. "or else I might ask for his number, he sounds like a treat." he ends the sentence with a wink to you.

You both laugh at each others comments and turn the conversation to talk about what you both did that day, you haven't seen each other since the early morning when you left for work and until he came back from the studio in the evening, when you both got ready and left for the date.

You are discussing the documentary you watched last night together, when the waiter brings the wine. You are glad to finally have a drink, it will help take your mind off the surprise, which lays heavy in the back of your head.

"It's nice here." Joost says lifting the glass to his lips.

"It is. I'm glad we decided to go." you are happy he is enjoying it.

"Me too." he leans back on the chair, his stature seems more relaxed now. You fall back into the conversation again.

The waiter brings the pasta which you both ordered. As much as you would like to hate the overpriced food, you have to admit it's delicious. After the first bite, you close your eyes and a quiet moan slips past your lips. Joost looks at you, finishes chewing, and reaches his hand across the table to your mouth.

"You've got something here." he swipes his thumb across the corner of your lower lip, slowly on purpose. It feels so nice to feel his touch on you. There is a little bit of red sauce, which he brings to his mouth and licks off, maintaining eye contact, and continues eating. You swallow hard.

You are glad he is feeling as flirty as you, it makes you giddy to what the night holds. You continue talking, eating and drinking wine, the giggles start to escape both of you.

An idea pops into your head and you immediately act on it, as you start to move your foot closer to his. The first touch of the tip of the heel you are wearing is very light right above his ankle. You keep it there. He continues telling the story. You nod while listening and move your foot a little higher along his leg, you see a glint in his eyes appear, which are staring intently into yours. You act as if nothing is happening, matching his eye contact, while moving your foot up and down his calf slowly. You bring it higher, just under his knee, which makes him stumble over his words and loose the staring contest, having to look down into his now empty plate. He loves to act like he is in control, and you have fun pushing his buttons seeing how far you can go to make him break his act and show how he is truly wrapped around your finger.

"Having fun, are you?" he says leaning back on the chair, you notice the tips of his ears are red. He puts his hands under the table, finding your leg, holds your ankle, then moves further to message your calf. Your skin soft under his hands, he is just happy to touch you.

"I am." you reply calmly and give your opinion to the story proving you were listening carefully to the story he was telling and are unbothered. You count it as a little win. Making him flustered feels so good, knowing you have that effect on him.

"Do you want to order desert?" you suggest and put your foot down on the ground.

"Yes, I would love some." he agrees.

The dim light, instrumental music playing in the background, murmur of the conversations around you, and the nice buzz from the wine, makes you a little bolder. Everyone around seems to be in their own little bubble, focused on food and their company. You decide it's time.

You are laughing at the story Joost was telling from one of the times he went to Berlin with his friends, when the desert is placed on the table. You have to wipe the tears in the corner of your eyes from laughing so hard. He would tell you stories all night, if that meant he got to hear the beautiful sound of your laughter. Joost hands you one of the two spoons and waits for you to try first, because he knows you love the first bite.

"Actually, I have something else for you." you say and reach into your purse. You carefully take out the polaroid photo, holding it face down and sliding it to him across the table. You lift your hand and leave it front of him. You feel your own face going red at the excitement and nervousness. He looks puzzled, puts down the spoon, tries to read your expression, but you just motion for him to look at it. He takes the photo and flips in his hands to look what it is. His eyes immediately go wide, he quickly presses the polaroid to his chest, looking around to make sure no one around saw. You watch his every move, enjoying his reaction, you can't hold in a laugh that escapes you.

"Fuck." his voice sounds breathy. He looks at you exaggerating the shocked expression with his jaw open, you smile brightly. Not only his cheeks are flushed, but you see his neck slowly turn red.

He lets out a breath and looks at the polaroid, taking his time now. He leans against the back of the booth seat. You hear him swear under his breath as his eyes move across the photo, not even caring anymore if anybody walks by. He wipes the sweat the formed on his brow, trying to regain his composure. He looks at the photo again, the tips of his ears red, you are drinking in his every move.

"You did this for me?" he asks, as a little chuckle escapes him, when he sees how are excited you are.

"No, I did it for the neighbour upstairs. But he didn't answer the call in time, so I gave it to you" you say, your foot playing with his under the table again.

"Great thinking. That actually might have stopped him from complaining about the noise again." he matches your joke.

"Of course I did it for you." you touch the bracelet he got you with his initials. "Yours forever." your words make his heart race faster. He brings your hand with the bracelet on to his lips, kissing it softly.

A playful smile spreads across his face, he shakes his head and looks up at you.

"So that's what's got you so fidgety all night." he leans in placing his elbows on the table, turning the polaroid to you. It even takes your breath away, you look good in that photo.

"I wasn't fidgety." you say, defending yourself.

"Baby, I could see your hands shaking when we sat down." he says, sliding closer to you in the booth. "If I knew I had that on me, I would be nervous too." he is now only a few inches away from you. He looks at the photo again. "That is so fucking hot." he traces his finger along your body on the photo.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he takes one last look at it and puts into his card holder. To him it instantly becomes worth more than any card he owns. As much as he would love to stare at the photo for the rest of his life, he also can't believe you are sitting right in front of him, he is not possessive in a true sense of the word, but the thought that you are his, that you love him as much as he loves you, fills his heart with so much happiness.

"That's what I've been wondering too." you say, placing your elbows on the table, holding your head in your hands and turning to look at him through your lashes.

"So do you want the desert?" you take a spoon, swipe it across the white cream on the top of the piece of cake in front of you. He watches you bring the spoonfull of heavy cream into your mouth and lick it, closing your eyes, enjoying the taste. He knows you are trying to torture him and it's working.

You open your eyes, his eyes which were focused on your mouth meeting yours, his pupils are wide, the candle light reflecting in them. The fire matches his thoughts racing through his head right now.

He moves even closer to you, his lips close to your ear "I would love the desert." he whispers only for you to hear. You turn to face him, your faces only a breath apart. He almost leans in to kiss you, but you turn to the plate again, you dip your finger into the cream and bring it to his mouth this time. He looks into your eyes and takes it in without a second thought. His tongue swirling against the tip of your finger tasting the delicious cream, his tongue feels so wet and warm. You take it out as quickly, lick off the residue and wipe it on the napkin.

He brings a hand to your jaw, his fingers splayed on the side of your face, holding you this time, so you won't move, and kisses you. You let him and lean into him. His lips are soft against yours and you can still taste the desert. The closeness, his hand tight on your jaw, tilting your head the way he wants and the smell of his cologne almost makes you forget you are still in public and you can't do what flashes through your head.

"I'm gonna be right back." you end the kiss quickly and push at his chest, making him lean back. You stand up and head to the bathroom. You turn around the corner, down the hall and reach for the door handle, when you hear footsteps right behind you, a familiar cologne smell enveloping you again. Joost hurries you inside, locks the door, and pushes you against the wall, your chest flush against his.

"What are you doing?" you are breathless from all the sudden movements.

"I couldn't wait." he leans in licking his lips, you feel his breath against your lips. He smiles looking into your eyes for a silent confirmation that you are okay, you nod and catch a glimpse of his grills. He kisses you hungrily as he presses you into the wall with his full weight. You answer the kiss trying to keep up with his pace. You planned on teasing him longer, not letting him have his way, but you are so weak and his strong hold on your hips and warmth feels so good on you. One of his hands moves to grab at the muscle of your ass through the dress, you feel him breath heavily into the kiss.

You are getting dizzy, he seems to be everywhere all at once, it all feels so good. Your hands are around his shoulders, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, you open your mouth for him, his tongue instantly finding yours, tasting you. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You feel so soft under him, the prettiest needy sounds leaving your mouth in between kisses. He slowly moves his hand from your waist down to your hip, then your thigh, squeezing it, feeling the soft plush skin, earning more sounds. He doesn't have a plan, he just had to come with you here. He is happy with just a makeout session, but somewhere in between the desert and this moment he started to get hard, the pants getting uncomfortably tight. He wraps your leg around his hip to be even closer to you.

"Let me make you feel good." he tries to sound sexy, but it comes out more as a whimper.

You lean your head into the wall trying to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw leaving wet kisses on his path to your neck. With your leg wrapped around his hip, where he is holding it tight still, you can feel him hard close to your core. His other hand sneaks into the top of your dress, you are not wearing a bra, so it is easy for him to feel your chest, which he thought about all night. You moan under him, your nipple getting hard at the touch of his big hand. You feel his other hand leave your thigh and trail down your stomach closer to the slit of your dress.

"Joost." your voice is breathy. "Let's wait till we get home." his kisses on your neck slow down. You feel bad for denying him right now, but you need to stick to your plan.

He peels himself off of you, his soul coming back into his own body after what felt like intertwining with yours. "Okay" he leans in to kiss you on the lips again.

"I'm sorry." your eyes move down his crotch, his bulge visible in his suit pants.

"No, it's fine. We just have to wait here a little." his voice gentle.

"Um, I actually do need to pee." you say. This bathroom is not a big space, a sink with a big mirror and a toilet.

"Okay." he says matter of factly. "I'll turn to face the wall." he adds when he notices you raise an eyebrow. "I can't go out now like that." he points to his crotch. "Also as if I haven't seen you pee before." he says more quiet. He is right, while traveling by car with him from country to country for his concerts, you had to make some questionable stops in the middle of nowhere. Also living together for so long, you both are long past locking the door while showering, so the other can use the bathroom at the same time.

"You did this to yourself by the way." you motion to his dick.

"I know, but can you blame me?" he turns to look at the wall, his eyes closed, you are sure he is trying to think of something to make the boner go away. "Next time I will give you my nude photo at dinner." he jokes, but the idea actually plants in his mind.

You are washing your hands, fixing your hair in the mirror.

"I can't stop thinking about that polaroid. Can't believe you did that for me." his voice soft, full of love. He feels like that photo is burning through the card holder, through the pocket of his pants.

"I'd do anything for you, you know." you look at him through the mirror.

"Don't say that right now." he throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, blood rushing back to his dick.

"I have one more, if you will be a good boy, I will give it to you." you turn to him, leaning back against the sink.

He looks into your eyes, a sweet smile on your face, a contrast to the words which just came out of your mouth, makes him close the space between you, his hands on your hips again, slotting so perfectly against your body. He is convinced you were made for him how good you fit on his hands.

"Will you be a good boy?" you look up at him, placing your hands on his chest, trying to feel his pecs through the suit.

He feels like a teenager again, trying not to get hard at every word a girl he likes says.

"You are torturing me, you know?" a potential image of another photo circulating through his mind. He leans in to kiss you again, slow and soft this time. Enjoying your lips on his. He bites your lower lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you gasp in surprise.

You lean back in his embrace, your lipstick all over his lips. You bring your thumb to clean it off.

"Want to go for a smoke?" you offer. "Might help your situation." you trace your nail slowly just under his belt.

He takes your hand in his and leads you outside, a cigarette sounds really good right now.

You go into an alleyway next to the restaurant. It is a warm evening, but you still shiver as soon as you step outside. He shrugs off his jacket, and puts it around your shoulders. He doesn't even need to look at you, already knows you will be shivering, he feels hot all over on the other hand.

He takes out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, which hangs from your shoulders. Offers you one, which you take and place it between your lips. He lights your cigarette and then for himself. Joost inhales the smoke slowly, nice feeling spreading across his chest. You watch him roll up the sleeves of his white shirt, as you bring his jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smells just like him.

"So what's the plan?" you ask him.

"I don't know, you tell me." he smiles, now more relaxed, the grills shining back at you from his wide smile. "I'm at your mercy."

"We head back to finish the desert. I hope they are not looking for us by now, thinking we ditched the bill." you say.

"And what if we do ditch it?" he blows the smoke up into the night air. "Run away. Just me and you."

"It's always just me and you." you step closer to him, placing your hand on his exposed forearm, moving further up to play with his tie. He looks so good, the rolled up sleeves revealing his tattoos, which you always had a soft spot for.

He takes a slow drag, blows the smoke away from your face, even though you are also smoking. Then leans in, putting your hair behind your ear and off your shoulder, "Such a tease tonight." his mouth right next to your ear, "Do you want me to bend you over right here and take you against the wall?"

Your eyes go wide, suddenly the night breeze is not enough to regulate your temperature. He straightens up to stand tall in front of you, looking down at you. A surprised chuckle comes out of you. The real answer is: You do, but you will never admit that to him. Not now at least.

"When did you get so bold, mr. Klein?" you are still holding his tie loosely between your fingers. His cocky stage persona taking the light now, you love it.

"Learned from the best." he says and you try to pull him closer to you by the tie.

"You are right. Let's head back for the desert." he doesn't give in to your pull. Both of you playing this cat and mouse game, which makes the end result all the more exciting. You giggle and lead him inside by the tie, dropping it, as soon as you walk in. He still follows you blindly, as if bound by an invisible string.

You finish the desert, he pays the bill and you can't get home soon enough. His hand is trying to trail up further and further up your thigh, you keep swatting it away playfully.

"Be patient." you whisper to him. "We can do anything you want when we are back home." you make a promise to him. He loosens the tie around his neck at your words.

You open the door, he follows right behind, you can feel his heat behind your back. You turn around, facing him, now walking backwards slowly towards the wall, he is following you a few steps behind. You lean forward to take off your heels, kicking them to the side. relieved to finally fully touch the floor. Without the added inches, you are even shorter now, having to look up higher to face him. He is walking you into the wall like he is hunting a prey. You beckon him closer with your finger, as a giggle escapes you, sparkles dancing in your eyes.

Your back hits the wall, as he closes the distance between you, his eyes fixated on yours. You take a good look at him, a smile on his lips reveals the shiny grills, rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt make his shoulders even wider, the pants fit him so nice. He looks incredible, you should go out all dressed up more often. You take his tie in your hands.

"Come here." you bring him closer to you by the tie. He leans in crashing his lips into yours, a groan escapes his lips, which you can feel through your whole body. It excites you even more.

His hand is on your neck, applying a slight pressure, his fingers splayed on your pulse point, under your jaw, which makes you moan into his mouth, a sound so delicious to him, he drinks it all in. His hand feels so big and warm on you, you start to feel a pulse between your legs. You let go of his tie, when he uses the hand on your neck to turn your head the way he wants to deepen the kiss. His other hand grabs a handfull of your ass. Every time he is close to you he feels like it's not enough, wants to envelop you whole, there is so much space for love in him and it is all for you. You make him dizzy with just your presence, your perfume, your soft skin, the rapid pulse he can feel under his hand, it all makes him the happiest man on earth.

You break apart gasping for air, his hair messed up from your hands running through them. His lips are swollen, stained with your lipstick, you try to wipe it off, but end up smearing it even further, he follows your hand pushing his face against it, craving your touch. He kisses your palm, your wrist, your hand so much smaller in his. He takes both your wrists in his one hand and hold them above your head.

"So beautiful." he says quietly. It's just you two in the apartment, but he wants those words to belong just to you. His hand traces from your jaw down your chest, stomach, slowly tracing the curve of your waist, while you can't move, your wrists pinned above your head. He is eating you with his eyes, enjoying the view. He sees you every day, but it is still never enough. You try to wriggle your wrists.

"Joost. Please" you whine, getting impatient.

He leans in closer. "Get on your knees for me, liefje." he lets go of your wrists, you immediately follow his request, your knees hitting the floor, you can't wait to get your hands on him. You lift your eyes, while undoing his belt, slowly moving to the zipper. He is looking down at you, his hands softly petting your hair.

You palm him through his underwear, he is already half hard. He moans a sound of satisfaction finally feeling you close to him. You lean in to kiss his still clothed length.

"Go on, baby." you leave one last kiss right on his tip, before taking off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free, he feels so heavy in your hand. You place your other hand on his thigh, steadying yourself. You move closer placing featherlight kisses along his length, while he makes a makeshift ponytail with your hair to get it out of the way. You lick a long stripe from the base to the tip, spitting on it, mixing it with his pre-cum, now your hand slides so much better along him. You keep moving your hand up and down while looking at him through your lashes, his mouth is open, slight moans escaping his mouth, but you hear him. You cup his balls and his head falls back, you massage them pulling more sounds from him.

You feel him pull your hair tighter. "Open your mouth for me, schat." you oblige, sticking out your tongue. He takes his dick in his hand, slaps it on your tongue and pushes in. He lets you set the pace, but still keeps a strong hold on your head. You try to steady your breathing to take more of him. He feels your nails on his thigh, secretly loves that feeling, it feels grounding when he feels like floating away from the warm and wet feeling of your mouth, bringing him so much pleasure. You keep sucking him, hollowing your mouth, following the pulsing vein with your tongue.

You breathe steadily through your nose, looking up at him, watching the expressions on his face, when he starts to buck his hips into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. Feels so- good." his voice is low. "Can I-" his words are not coming out properly, he is so lost in you. But you know what he wants, you hum a confirmation around him. He puts one hand on the wall behind you, the other hand on the side of your head as he starts thrusting harder. Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes. Drool coming out down your chin and around his shaft, your nose hits his pubic hair, and he keeps your head there moaning loudly. He is so close suddenly, you feel him twitch in your mouth.

He pulls you off of him, you try to catch your breath, wiping your mouth. You reach out to touch him again already missing the heavy feeling of him in your throat, but he brings you up.

"Let me have a taste of you too." he says quickly pulling up his pants back on not bothering to do the belt properly, when you are face to face with him. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, a reminder what you just did. You keep kissing as he walks you into the living room, blindly stumbling towards the couch, but he catches you. His hands steady on you, always holding you and you trust him completely.

He spins you around, bending you over the back of the couch. He presses himself behind you, kissing your shoulder, his hands quickly moving to the top of your dress

"I need you so bad." he kisses along your spine, moving lower and lower. He bunches up your dress along your hips, exposing you to him.

"You have me." you say, turning your head to look at him, holding yourself up on the couch.

He exhales loudly, as he squeezes your ass, only a thong separating you from him. "I've been thinking about this all day" he says kneeling down behind you. He is so impatient, so pent up and so inlove with you, he feels everything at the same time. He touches you through your underwear.

"So wet." you feel his breath in between your legs. You've never been with someone who loves giving head as much as him, he would put your pleasure above his own any day.

After continuing to touch you through the fabric, feeling your folds, hearing your impatient frustrated moans spurs him on, so he finally moved your underwear to the side and dives in immediately. He pushes you further into the couch with a firm hand on your lower back, you arch for him to have better access.

"The prettiest pussy and all for me." He spreads you with his two fingers and licks a long stripe from your clit to the hole, he feels it clench under his tongue. He is obsessed with how sensitive you are, your taste the most delicious to him. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, you buck your hips into him. You were already getting close by giving him head and all the pretty sounds you were able to pull from him, you feel like you won't last long.

He continues to make out with your cunt, his eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, listening to every little sound you make, focusing on what makes you twitch the most, moan the loudest. He moves his head from side to side, which makes you arch even further.

"Please, Joost, don't stop. I'm almost there" you plead to him.

You feel him smile against your folds, it is so messy, you feel your thighs are wet when he pulls back and starts do draw fast wide circles around your folds, the sounds your pussy is making would embarrass you, if you weren't so lost in the building climax you feel in your lower stomach, pulsing through your whole body, your mind blurry, you keep repeating his name over and over, which makes him impossibly hard. You see him move his own hand between his legs, palming himself through the pants, groaning into your core.

"I need you inside of me. Please." you manage to say.

He would love nothing more in that moment, he stands up, pulls down his pants and underwear in one movement. His tip an angry shade of red, balls heavy, you turn your head forward, moving your hips closer to him, inviting him in.

"Quickly" you whine.

He is holding your hip with one hand, while he holds his dick in the other hand, slowly moving it through your folds, collecting your slick.

"Can you go again after?" he asks, his voice breathy.

"Can you?" you turn to him, placing your hand over his own on your hip, to feel more of him.

He chuckles. His tip catches your hole, pushing in. You both inhale at the same time. "You are in for a fun time today" he says, as he pushes in further, you are so wet, it is so easy for him. He bends over to be closer to you.

His heart runs like an engine as he bullies his drooling cock up against your soft cunt. His words close to your ear, nothing but filthy praise, about how you are perfect for him, that you were made for him, he loves you. His hips meet yours in a fast pace behind you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. As soon as he moves his hand to draw circles around your clit, you scream out his name and gush all over him, squeezing him impossibly tight, which makes him lose his pace. It triggers his own release, after a few more pumps, you feel his cum paint your walls, there is so much, it starts to trickle down your thighs. He collapses on top of you, barely able to catch himself putting his hands on either side of you on the couch. His white shirt is sticking to his skin with how sweaty he is.

You feel he is still not fully soft inside of you. The stamina he has today makes you excited, because you are also ready for more.

You wince when he pulls out.

"Was that not too rough? Sorry, we didn't even make it to the bedroom." he asks, while his eyes are trained between your legs, it is so wet and shiny with both of your releases. He is almost hypnotised.

"I can't even catch my breath still. I don't think we could have possibly made it to the bedroom." you say and you both laugh.

He helps you stand up, you stand in front of him, moving your hands behind you undoing the zipper and slipping out of your dress, leaving it on the floor. He watches you intently, your naked figure in front of him. It is dark in the room, only a street light coming from the window and low light from the hall illuminating you.

"You are so beautiful." he repeats the words he says to you every day, no matter if you are in your pyjamas or full make up and expensive dress, if he was a painter he would paint you and only you. He gives you so many compliments, you started to believe them, boosting your self confidence, which you are thankful for.

"It is your turn now." you undo his tie, throwing it on top of your dress. He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, while you move towards the bedroom.

You are both completely naked when you fall on the bed. You lay on the pillows, he slowly crawls on top of you, kissing your calfs, your thighs, as you spread your legs apart, giving him more space. He continues kissing his way up, your stomach, stopping on your chest, focusing on your tits. He looks into your eyes, when he takes your nipple into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, sucking in. You arch your back, whining and moving your hands to his head, holding him close. His hand moves to touch your other boob, squeezing it, twisting and pulling the nipple, enjoying your moans. You feel so good in his mouth. He moves to the other nipple, changing hands to play with the shiny wet nipple from his spit.

You start lifting your hips to meet his, his cock lays heavy on your lower stomach. You pull on his hair to get his attention, he moves his hands in between your legs, you are so warm and wet at his touch.

He looks up at you, letting go of your nipple, moving further up closer to your face.

"You ready to go again?" you ask him, placing your hand on the side of his face, wiping the residue of you on his chin.

He kisses you, and you melt under him immediately. His lips ever so soft capturing yours.

"Yes." he says sitting up. "Are you?" he moves his hands from your neck slowly down to your chest, feeling your fast heartbeat, matching his own, down to your lower stomach. His thumb presses on your clit, your hips lift on their own, a whine escaping your lips, still overstimulated, but it feels so good at the same time. He sees you clench around nothing, waiting for him.

"Don't tease, Joost. Put it in." you reach out to touch his cock. You move your hand up and down his shaft, but he takes control again. He holds himself by the base, leaning in closer, he aligns your hips, putting his cock onto your lower stomach, the tip almost reaching your bellybutton, seeing how deep it will go in. The sight makes his breath catch. The tip leaves a wet spot on your skin.

"I love you so much." he says as he finally reaches your hole, sliding in. He moves your thighs further apart, holding them. He watches your face, your expressions helping him set the pace, seeing what makes you moan louder and what movements make you clench around him. He builds the thrusts around your pleasure. Your arms cling to his on your thighs.

"Feels so good" your head falls back on the pillows.

"Look at me, baby" he moves your head back to look at him. "I want to see you when you cum on my dick." each word is followed by a harder thrust. One of his hands moves to touch your nipple, letting go of your thighs. The other hand draws fast circles around your clit. He rolls his hips just the way you like, you feel your climax envelope your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your fingers. He lets you ride out your high, your hips moving on him, his hands moving softly on your sides. His dick keeping you full.

"That's it baby. That's it. So good for me" he praises you.

You come to your senses and feel him pull out. You start to flip on your stomach, thinking he wants to change positions.

"No, wait." he stops you, laying you on your back. His hands come to your chest, squeezing your boobs together. You are confused for a second, following his gaze on your chest, when you realize.

"Do you want to fuck my tits?" you ask. You could tell he wanted to do it for awhile, but he wouldn't bring it up for some reason. You wish he would believe your words, when you say you would let him do anything. You trust him completely.

"Yes. Would that be okay?" he asks meeting your eyes unsure.

"Yes. Come here" you push your boobs together. He can't believe the sight in front of him. He gets even harder than before. He moves his hand to your pussy, covering his hand in your release, when he brings it in the valley between your boobs, making it slippery.

"You are so nasty." you say. He always loves it messy, even prefers to cum on your stomach or chest, spreading it after, but truly you don't mind.

"And you love it." he says and lets his spit fall on your chest, holding your boobs together, making it even more wet. He plays with your nipples, twisting them in between his pointer finger and thumb, as he moves to straddle you closer, making sure not to put his weight on you.

You help him hold your boobs, when he lines himself in the valley of your breasts. He tries to move, his head falling back with a loud groan, it feels so good. You watch his face contorted in pleasure. He keeps moving his hips, as you squeeze your boobs tighter around him.

"Oh fuck, liefje." one of his hands move to the backboard of the bed for leverage. You open your mouth catching his tip when he thrusts in. He moans at that, his mouth agape, looking down at you.

"Do that again." you oblige and keep your mouth open. He keeps thrusting in and out, his tip staying in your mouth. You move your hand to cup his balls, feeling the tender skin. You make sure to place your tongue on his slit on his next thrust.

"Feels so good. So good." his brain is a mush at this point, he starts to chase his high, moving faster. Your neck is getting tired, so he holds you by the back of your head.

"I'm so close, gonna cum." he warns you, in case you want him to move away. But you hum around him, sucking him harder. He shuts his eyes shut, after a few more thrusts he cums in your mouth, but pulls out and also finishes on your chest. His own chest is contracting in shallow breaths, he plops down next to you on the bed, his legs can't hold him anymore. You feel his warm release on your chest, which he can't stop looking at and starts massaging it into your tits.

"Joost." you whine. "You are such a freak." you swat his hands away laughing.

"And what if I did this?" he leans in quickly and puts your nipple into his mouth, feeling it wet with his spit and his own release. You squeal at feeling, pulling his hair.

"The biggest freak ever." a giggle escapes you. "Let's get in the shower."

After you get back all clean, you show him the other polaroids you took, but didn't end up choosing for the final surprise. He inspects every single one, commenting on what he likes about each one and makes you promise you will wear the underwear set you wore for it tomorrow.

He is already planning on giving you a nude polaroid photo of himself to match yours.

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein rpf #joost klein x reader #yapperwrites

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decagondice · 2 months ago

Text

༓ Headless & Heartless ༓

Soft!Sukuna x Reader, sfw From the hidden corners of your mind, the angel and devil watch, each seeing a man softened by devotion as a love once unyielding blooms into something both fierce and tender.

[This was largely inspired by Alesis by Mk.gee and one theory about the song.]

It began as a quiet evening, the kind that slips in unnoticed—a slow bloom of amber light through the curtained windows, spilling onto worn wooden floors. The air held that peculiar hush that falls over a house where two people have long learned each other's rhythms. Sukuna sat on the low couch, his broad frame silhouetted against the flicker of a muted television, though he wasn’t paying attention to the screen. His eyes, dark and inscrutable, followed you instead as you moved about the room, collecting little forgotten things—a stray book here, a glass of water left by the window. He said nothing, but his presence, weighty and magnetic, seemed to tug at the edges of the space between you.

You didn’t look at him, not directly. There was no need. The two of you had been together long enough that his gaze felt as familiar as the brush of a breeze across your skin. Still, there was a tension in the way he watched you, a simmering intensity that never fully left him. It wasn’t unkind—not exactly—but it was intimidating, as though Sukuna himself wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the depth of his feelings.

From afar, on the unseen edges of this tender tableau, two figures observed. The angel and the devil, perched like sentinels on the threshold of your subconscious. Neither could be seen, and yet they watched with a keen intimacy, their forms more a suggestion than anything corporeal.

The devil, draped lazily across an unseen seat, let out a low whistle. "Y’know," he began, his voice deep and faintly raspy, carrying a lilt like the curl of smoke, "I’m still not entirely convinced he’s the right fit for her."

The angel, ever serene, didn’t turn her head. Her gaze remained fixed on the scene before them—you, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as Sukuna’s hand drifted, almost absentmindedly, to the book you had left beside him. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the spine in a way that was almost contemplative.

"I’ve had the same thoughts," the angel murmured after a pause, her voice like the soft rustle of leaves in autumn. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "He’s… brusque, to say the least. Intimidating. Rough around the edges." She sighed, the sound filled with an unspoken worry that only caretakers know. "I was afraid, too. Afraid he would hurt her. That his world would swallow hers whole."

The devil snorted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "And? You still think she’s not in over her head? C’mon, angel, look at him." He gestured broadly toward Sukuna, whose brow furrowed slightly as he turned the page of your book. "The guy’s got all the refinement of a blunt instrument—effective, sure, but hardly delicate."

The angel smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Look closer," she whispered.

And so the devil did. His sharp eyes, always so quick to spot the cracks in the armor, softened just slightly as he watched Sukuna. There was something in the way his fingers brushed against the worn edge of the book before setting it aside—an afterthought, because his true interest was elsewhere. In you. His gaze lingered as you moved, as though committing to memory the way the light caught in your hair or how the soft rhythm of your breathing filled the quiet. A brief moment—so subtle it could almost be missed—but the devil caught it nonetheless, that unspoken gravity that pulled him toward you, as inevitable as the tide to the shore.

"Huh," the devil murmured, tilting his head slightly. "I’ll admit it—he’s… altered himself in her presence."

The angel hummed, a quiet agreement. "They changed each other," she said softly. "He’s still unyielding. He always will be. But she’s stronger than you give her credit for. And he…" She let the thought trail off, her gaze lingering on the faintest curve of a smile tugging at Sukuna’s lips as he seemed to ponder something, his mind drifting to the words he might say to you next. "He’s found something in her he never thought he’d have."

The devil leaned back, his expression unreadable. "You mean love," he said, the word falling from his mouth as though it were foreign to him. He smirked, but there was no malice in it. "Didn’t peg the guy for it."

"Love doesn’t always look the way we expect it to," the angel replied. "It can be unrefined, yes. But it can also be unwavering. Nourishing. Even a man like Sukuna can…" Her voice faltered, just for a moment, as though she herself were moved by the scene before them. "Even he can learn to be soft when it matters."

Below, Sukuna rose from the couch, each motion measured. You barely looked up as he approached, only tilting your head when his hand reached out to brush against yours. It was such a small thing—the briefest contact, a fleeting warmth—but it spoke volumes in a language only the two of you seemed to understand. He muttered something under his breath, and you laughed, the sound like sunlight breaking through clouds.

"See?" The angel’s voice was almost inaudible now, a thread of sound woven into the stillness. "He doesn’t just care for her. He… yearns for her. It’s subtle, but it’s there."

The devil grunted, crossing his arms. "Alright, alright," he relented, though his tone was more grudging admiration than defeat. "You’ve got a point. He’s not all bad. Still think he’s a bit of an ass, though."

The angel’s laugh was light and fleeting. "He is," she agreed. "But he’s hers to deal with."

And as the two figures faded back into the recesses of your mind, the scene below unfolded with quiet grace. Sukuna wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that spoke not of possessiveness, but of a man who had learned to treasure what he thought he’d never deserve. You leaned into him, your body fitting against his as though you had always belonged there. The moment was unspoken, unhurried, yet it was everything.

For Sukuna, love had once been a barren thing, an endless wasteland where he had wandered alone. But now, with you, it was something entirely different. It was rough edges smoothed by gentle hands, a fire that burned without consuming. It was juxtaposing—harsh yet tender, rough yet soft. And as he held you, his heart, once a desolate place, filled with a warmth he couldn’t name but knew he would never let go of.

The truth lingered in the air, precious and enduring: you had changed him, and he, in turn, had found a home in you.

A.N. Thank you so much for reading!!! I've been in a slump recently and but I am slowly but surely getting out of it, so please expect more works by me in the future :D

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divinelyparkjimin · 11 months ago

Text

— taste of you [m] | pjm.

◦ summary ↠ getting yourself off to your childhood friend’s sexual escapades was definitely not on your radar, but seems like it should’ve been a long time ago.

◦ pairing ↠ jimin x reader

◦ word count ↠ 5.2k

◦ genre ↠ smut, fluff, angst-ish

◦ content warning(s) ↠ fuckboy!jimin, childhood friends to lovers, roommate au, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, thigh riding, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, fingering, vouyerism (?), masturbation, alcohol consumption

a/n: i put together another one for you guys! hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you held a book in your lap, though you hadn't turned a page in the past twenty minutes. The soft glow of the late morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm light on the cozy apartment. The space was a blend of both you and your roommate, Jimin’s, personalities: your collection of plants thriving in the corners, and Jimin's eclectic mix of posters and musical instruments scattered about. A framed photo of the two of you at your high school graduation hung on the wall, a reminder of the years you had shared.

Your eyes kept drifting to the hallway, waiting for the inevitable sound of Jimin's bedroom door opening. The apartment was unusually quiet this morning, the calm before the storm. Sure enough, the door creaked open, and you heard the soft, murmured goodbyes. A minute later, a petite, pretty brunette emerged, looking slightly disheveled but clearly satisfied. She glanced at you with a polite nod, her high heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the front door. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee.

Jimin followed shortly after, wearing his usual post-hookup grin. His dark hair was tousled, and his t-shirt was slightly wrinkled. There was a certain smugness in his stride that was both infuriating and oddly endearing. He stopped in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Another one, huh?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow as you set your book aside. "Didn't you have a girl over just last night? What’s going on, Jimin? Suddenly in heat after being a big ‘ol virgin in high school?"

Jimin chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Guess I'm making up for lost time," he said, flashing you a playful wink.

You shook your head, unable to keep the smirk off your face. "Never thought I'd see the day. The shy boy next door turned playboy extraordinaire. What happened to you?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "People change, you know."

As he sauntered into the kitchen, you followed, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. The kitchen was bright and airy, with sunlight streaming through the large windows. The small dining table where the two of you often shared meals was cluttered with the remnants of breakfast: an empty cereal bowl, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a plate with crumbs. Jimin moved to the coffee maker, his back muscles rippling under his shirt as he poured himself a cup.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked, turning to face you, his expression suddenly serious. "I mean, if it's bothering you, I can tone it down."

You forced a laugh, waving off his concern. "It's fine, Jimin. We're adults. You can do what you want."

But the truth was, it wasn’t fine. The more you tried to brush it off, the harder it became to ignore the growing tension inside you. Each night, as the sounds from his room filled the apartment, you found it increasingly difficult to sleep. The moans, the bed creaking, the unmistakable intimacy—it all sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush and your heart race. You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to push the images forming in your mind aside. But the curiosity and arousal were impossible to ignore. You started seeing Jimin in a way you never had before, wondering what it would be like to be one of those girls.

Mornings became a minefield of awkward encounters. You’d bump into his overnight guests in the kitchen, exchanging polite smiles and trying to mask your discomfort. Jimin, for his part, seemed oblivious to your internal struggle. He would flash you his usual bright smile, completely unaware of the turmoil he was causing within you.

One morning, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl Jimin had brought home the night before. She was stunning, with perfect hair and a confident air that made you feel oddly inadequate. You wondered what Jimin saw in her, and whether he had ever looked at you the same way. The thought sent a pang of jealousy through you, but you quickly shoved it aside, forcing yourself to act normal.

This newfound awareness of Jimin’s sexual escapades was driving you crazy. You found yourself unable to concentrate on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the sounds and sights that had become a part of your nightly routine. The more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feelings grew.

As the days passed, your curiosity began to flourish further and further towards lust, which it was already quite a lot of. You started paying more attention to Jimin, noticing the way his muscles flexed when he moved, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his voice deepened when he spoke to his conquests. You were seeing him in a completely new light, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

That evening, after a particularly loud night of giggles and thumping from Jimin's room, you found yourself in the kitchen, brewing a pot of chamomile tea in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves. The door to Jimin’s room opened, and you heard soft footsteps approaching. You stiffened, your heart rate picking up as Jimin entered the kitchen, shirtless and looking annoyingly perfect despite the late hour.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

“Yeah, something like that,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He grinned, clearly oblivious to the turmoil he was causing. “Didn’t mean to keep you up,” he said, his tone teasing. “Or maybe I did,” he added with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you couldn't help but appreciate the sight of him. “You’re impossible, Jimin.”

He stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” he started, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone.

Your breath hitched. “Don’t joke about that,” you said, more harshly than you intended.

He looked taken aback, his playful expression fading. “Hey, I was just kidding. Are you okay?”

You sighed, turning away to pour your tea. “I’m fine, Jimin. Just tired.”

But you weren’t fine. You were far from fine, a potent mix of jealousy and desire taking root within you. It was like your body had a mind of its own, going into heat anytime you’d cross paths with him.

It felt strange to you, considering this was the boy you’d grown up with for such a huge portion of your life. You’d been by his side when he was an ultra nerd, when he wouldn’t dare make a move on a single girl. You’d never imagined you could ever see him as more than that, but here you were.

“Jimin, can I ask you something?” You felt your heart skip a beat.

“Anything,” he replied, his expression soft.

“Why do you do it?” you asked, surprising even yourself with the question. “All the girls, I mean.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…easy, I guess. No strings, no complications.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your voice steady. “But isn’t it lonely? Doesn’t it make you feel empty?”

Jimin shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Not really. I’m just having fun, you know?”

Your chest tightened, but you kept your tone light. “You’re not as invincible as you think you are, you know. One day, you’re going to meet someone who makes you want to risk everything.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe, but I’m not worried about that right now. I’m just taking things as they come.”

You nodded, though your mind was far from at ease. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Jimin.”

He gave you a casual smile. “Thanks. And hey, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine.”

You forced a smile in return. “Yeah, I know. Just take care of yourself.”

And with that, you returned to your room, plunging onto the soft cotton sheets that covered your bed. The memory of his teasing words lingered in your mind. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” His voice had dropped to a low, seductive tone, and though you’d laughed it off at the time, the suggestion had planted a seed in your mind.

Alone in the dim light of your room, your thoughts wandered back to Jimin. You couldn’t deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the way your body reacted to his touch, his voice, his presence. You found yourself imagining what it would be like to take him up on his offer, to let him distract you in the most intimate way.

Your hand drifted down your body, your breath hitching as you let your fantasies take over. You imagined the feel of his strong, thick thighs under you, the way they would flex and shift as you rode them. The thought made your pulse quicken, and you let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

In your mind, you could see Jimin’s intense gaze, feel his hands on your hips, guiding you. The way his muscles would ripple under your touch, the low growl of his voice as he whispered your name. You imagined the way his thighs would feel beneath you, strong and steady, the friction igniting every nerve in your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your movements more urgent as you lost yourself in the fantasy. The thought of being with Jimin, of feeling him in such an intimate way, sent waves of pleasure through you. You could almost hear his voice, feel his breath against your skin, the heat of his body enveloping you.

It wasn’t long before your fantasies reached their peak, your body trembling with release. You lay there for a moment, catching your breath, your mind still filled with images of Jimin. The intensity of your desire surprised you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to turn your fantasies into reality.

The next weekend, Jimin knocked on your bedroom door, poking his head in with a grin. “Hey, you got any plans tonight?”

You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “Not really. Why?”

“I’m heading to the club with some friends,” he said, stepping inside. “You should come with us.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You know I’m not into that scene, Jimin. I’m fine here.”

He walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. “Come on, you’re always sitting at home. One night out won’t kill you. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You sighed, setting your book aside. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to do there.”

Jimin smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just let loose for once. Dance, have a few drinks, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I’m really not sure. It’s not my thing.”

“Please,” he said, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. “Do it for me? I hate seeing you cooped up all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. “Alright, alright. I’ll go. But if it gets too much, I’m leaving.”

“Deal,” Jimin said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I better not.”

As you got ready, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Jimin was right—you rarely went out, and maybe it was time to change that. You put on a nice outfit, something that made you feel confident, and met Jimin in the living room.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Ready,” you replied, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach.

With Jimin by your side, you set out for the club, wondering what the night had in store.

The music was loud, the lights were dazzling, and the drinks were flowing. After a few shots, you felt more relaxed, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions. Jimin stayed close to you all night, dancing and laughing in a way that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room.

The club was packed, a sea of bodies moving to the throbbing bass that reverberated through the air. Flashing lights painted the room in hues of blue and red, creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. You and Jimin had already downed a few shots, the alcohol buzzing warmly through your veins, making everything feel a little more vibrant and a lot less restrained.

You found yourselves on the dance floor, pressed close together by the throng of people. The music pounded around you, a sultry beat that seemed to dictate the movements of your bodies. Jimin's hands found your hips, pulling you against him, and you didn't resist. You’d never felt his touch in a way so intimate before. The feel of his body so close to yours was electrifying, and you let the music take over, swaying in perfect rhythm with him.

Jimin’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in to speak, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re a really good dancer,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “So are you,” you replied, feeling bolder than usual. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving you more daring and less concerned about the consequences.

As the song changed to something even more sensual, Jimin's hands roamed a bit more, sliding up and down your sides, occasionally grazing the small of your back. Each touch sent a jolt through you, making your heart race. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, your bodies moving as one.

Your faces were inches apart now, and you could see the intensity in Jimin's eyes. There was something different about the way he looked at you tonight—something that made your pulse quicken and your breath hitch. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there on the dance floor.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with something you couldn’t quite identify—desire, perhaps, or something even deeper.

“Good,” you whispered back, the word escaping before you could think better of it.

The tension between you was palpable, a current that made every touch, every brush of skin against skin, feel like a spark. You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand it. The alcohol had dulled your fears but sharpened your desires, and all you wanted was to close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours.

Jimin seemed to feel the same way. His grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear. “You wanna head back?” he suggested, his voice barely more than a breath. “It’s feeling a little stuffy in here.” You nodded, simply wanting to be alone with him. You quickly bid your friends goodbye, before taking off.

Jimin took your hand in his, leading you through the crowd and out of the club, the cool night air hitting you like a shock after the heat of the dance floor. The tension between you was still there, simmering just below the surface.

The ride home in the Uber had been a blur, the tension between you growing with each passing second. You both sat close, his leg pressed against yours, the occasional brush of his hand against your thigh sending sparks through your body. You exchanged lingering glances, the desire in his eyes reflecting your own.

Back at the apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before Jimin was on you again, his hands on your waist as he backed you against the wall. The electricity between you crackled in the air, making every nerve in your body stand on end.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and intense as he looked into your eyes.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “I think I’m starting to get an idea,” you replied, breathless.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more intense as the pent-up tension between you finally found release. His hands roamed your body, sending shivers down your spine with every touch. You could feel the heat radiating off him, matching the fire that burned inside you.

Just as things were escalating, Jimin suddenly pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, trying to process his words. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your heart sinking.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can do this with you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your heart sinking at his words as your throat grew tight. “You do this all the time. Why is it any different with me?”

Jimin sighed, looking tormented. “Because it’s not the same. It’s... it’s different.”

You felt a mix of anger and sadness rising. “Different how? Were you not liking it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. “I just… really care about you. And I don’t want to just have a quick, meaningless hookup with you.”

His confession left you stunned. “What do you mean?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I thought sleeping around would make it easier to stop thinking about you, but it’s never felt right.” Jimin took a deep breath, his voice tinged with regret. “I can’t treat it like you’re just another girl because you’re not. I’ve always wanted it to be you, but I knew I didn’t really stand a chance.”

You felt a lump in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “So you’ve been avoiding me because you care about me?”

He nodded, looking both vulnerable and relieved. “Yes. I know it sounds messed up, but I didn’t know how else to deal with it. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding. “Jimin, I want you too. I know I said it didn’t bother me, but it’s honestly been driving me insane. I couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever you’d bring all the girls in, you know?”

His eyes widened with surprise and relief. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of hope and longing. “Yes. I wanted you, Jimin. I still do.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire as you closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions you had kept bottled up. This time, it wasn’t just about lust—it was about love and longing, and the connection you both craved.

As the kiss deepened, you felt Jimin’s hands on your back, pulling you closer. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. You both knew what you wanted. Jimin slipped his firm hands beneath your thighs, lifting you up in a swift movement, keeping his lips connected to yours. You locked your legs around his torso, arms placed around his neck.

His lips felt perfect against your own, the pillowy feeling of them pulling you deeper into the moment. You gasped for air every now and then, but were not given much of a break before the two of you were at it again, more passionate than before. Your fingers traced along the back of his neck as you were buried in each other’s faces, occasionally gripping at his hair.

“F-Fuck Y/N, I’ve wanted this so bad,” Jimin croaked, heavy breaths escaping his lips.

“Trust me, I have too.” You chuckled, pecking his nose before going back into his lips. You found yourself sucking on his bottom lip and had each other’s tongues periodically crossing the barriers between the two of you.

Jimin placed his hands at your ass, as if for a better grip on you, before carrying you over to his bedroom. The journey there was a shaky one, as neither of you could seem to separate from basking in the feelings of one another. Upon arrival, he set you on his bed, before pulling off his shirt and crawling atop you.

Your eyes followed him with delight, staring up at him with doe eyes that he couldn’t help but grin at.

“God, you’re so cute.” Jimin’s hand rose up to touch your face, his large thumb swiping along your cheek. He pecked the same spot, sending shivers down your spine. He then leaned back, his eyes taking in your form with a mix of admiration and desire.

Slowly, you tugged at the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Jimin's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, and his hands quickly followed, exploring the newly exposed skin. His touch was both gentle and possessive, making your body arch into him with every caress.

Jimin's lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made you shiver. He nipped at your collarbone, eliciting a gasp from you as his hands roamed over your curves. You felt his fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra, and within moments, it was discarded, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips finding their way to your breasts. He took his time, savoring each kiss and lick, driving you wild with need. Your hands roamed over his toned back, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch as he continued his ministrations.

You couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands traveled down his torso, fingers tracing the lines of his abs before reaching the waistband of his jeans. You fumbled with the button, your eagerness evident as you finally managed to undo it. Jimin chuckled softly, a sound filled with both amusement and anticipation.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased, but his voice was thick with desire. He helped you with the rest, quickly shedding his jeans and boxers. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hands made quick work of removing the last of your clothing. Now, with nothing between you, the heat of his body against yours was almost overwhelming. You could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you, making your own arousal spike.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered. “I guess you really haven’t gotten any in a while.” A sly smirk appeared on his face as your face turned into a face of shock.

“Hey—!” you began, before you were cut off by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shh,” Jimin whispered, his eyes darkening with desire. “Let me take care of you.”

You moaned into his mouth as he pressed further against your g-spots. Your hips bucked against his hand as he worked you with skilled, deliberate movements. Every touch, every stroke, brought you closer to the edge. His fingers thrusted inside you, curling to hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur even harder.

Your moans grew louder, the sound filling the room as your body tensed, every muscle tightening in anticipation. Jimin’s other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers, adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

“Jimin, I’m so close,” you panted, your hips moving in time with his thrusts, chasing the climax that was just out of reach. He bit down gently on your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you,” he growled.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the raw intensity in his eyes left you pooled with desperation. Your orgasm hit you with a force that left you breathless, your body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you rode out the climax.

Jimin didn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers inside you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him. When he finally pulled his hand away, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk.

“God, you taste amazing,” he said, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you. You were still catching your breath, your body humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Jimin,” you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss. Your tongues tangled together, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the intimate connection between you.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Ready for more?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Always,” you whispered, your body already aching for his touch again.

It was not long before his lips were back in contact with your skin, trailing kisses down your body which left a scorching path from your neck to your navel. Every touch sent shivers through you, your skin tingling with anticipation. When he reached your thighs, he gently spread them apart, positioning himself between them.

“Jimin…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. The sight of him, his eyes locked onto yours with such intensity, made your heart race.

“I’ve always wondered what you’d taste like,” he murmured, his tone laced with eagerness. He leaned in closer, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place as he continued his exploration. His tongue moved with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you. He sucked gently on your clit, making your head spin and your breath come in ragged gasps.

“Jimin, please,” you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. The need for release was overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and satisfaction. “Not yet, baby. I want to make you feel everything.”

As the intensity between you reached its peak, you felt a surge of boldness wash over you. Breaking away from the kiss, you looked up at Jimin with flushed cheeks and a determined gleam in your eyes.

"Jimin," you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, "I want to ride your thigh."

His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk quickly spread across his lips. "Hell yeah," he replied, his voice husky with seduction. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

You straddled his thigh, feeling the heat of his skin against yours as you positioned yourself just right. With a shaky breath, you began to move, your hips rolling against him in slow motions.

The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body with each movement. Jimin's hands roamed your curves, guiding you as you found a rhythm that drove you both wild.

You threw your head back, letting out a low moan as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. Jimin's thigh provided the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Despite the immense feelings of pleasure, it didn’t seem to be enough, so you wanted more.

“I need you, Jimin,” you breathed, barely able to form the words as pleasure clouded your mind.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Aligning himself with you, he slowly pushed his length inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was both intense and intimate, making you gasp as your bodies finally joined.

Jimin set a slow, steady pace, his movements deep. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building steadily until you felt like you might burst. His lips never strayed far from yours, kissing you with a passion that matched the intensity of his movements. The familiar sound of his headboard banging against the wall filled the room as his thrusts grew rougher. It was a noise you were used to hearing from the other side of the wall, but were now able to experience for yourself.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode the waves of pleasure. The rhythm between you was perfect, a dance of desire and emotion that brought you closer with every thrust.

“Jimin, I’m gonna—” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Do it, Y/N. Come,” he urged, his voice a low growl.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your vision blurred, your mind going blank as pleasure consumed you. Jimin continued to lap at you yet again, drawing out your climax until you were completely spent. Jimin held you close, his own release mingling with yours, the connection between you deeper than it had ever been.

Finally, he pulled away, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies still entwined. Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

“That was amazing, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with contentment. In that moment, everything felt perfect, the years of friendship and unspoken desire finally culminating in something beautiful.

Jimin chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “So, does this mean we can make this a regular thing?”

You laughed, playfully swatting his chest. “Are you saying you can’t get enough of me already?”

“Pretty much,” he grinned. “I don’t I could ever get enough of this.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as they drifted down the length of your body.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Neither do I, Jimin.”

With that, you both settled into a comfortable silence, cuddled close, bare skin against bare skin. As the night grew quieter, the rhythm of your breathing began to sync, and you found yourselves drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

a/n: feel free to leave a comment or slip into my inbox to let me know what you think! feedback is always appreciated :>

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winxanity-ii · 4 months ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 19 Chapter 19 | touched by light⌟

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The chill of marble underfoot had vanished, replaced by the wooden warmth of your room in Ithaca's palace. The transition felt abrupt, as though you had been plucked from one reality and unceremoniously dropped into another.

The air here was thick and humid, alive in a way that contrasted sharply with the suffocating stillness of the Underworld. Your breaths were uneven, shallow, as you struggled to shake off the weight of where you'd just been.

In your hands, the lyre rested heavily, its once-brilliant strings now muted under the soft light spilling from the window. The golden glow that had radiated with such intensity in the Underworld had dimmed, leaving the instrument looking almost ordinary—almost.

You weren't sure when you had sat down, but now you perched on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the lyre. Your fingers traced the intricate carvings on its frame as though the answers to your questions might be etched there.

The words spoken to you swirled in your mind.

It looks familiar... doesn't Apollo have one just like it?

The thought sent a shiver crawling up your spine, and not entirely from the cold.

Apollo. His name felt heavier now, a presence that loomed just beyond your understanding. If the lyre was connected to him—if it belonged to him—what did that mean for you? Why had Hermes handed it to you so casually, as if it were a mere trinket?

The questions swirled endlessly, overlapping until you couldn't untangle them anymore. It was as though your mind had become an echo chamber, the voices of Cleo, Persephone, and Hades all clamoring for space.

With a frustrated sigh, you set the lyre aside, leaning forward to cradle your head in your hands. The heels of your palms pressed hard against your temples as if you could physically push the thoughts to quiet.

The room felt too small, the walls pressing in around you despite the familiar comforts. Even the faint scent of lavender from the bundle on your desk couldn't soothe you. Your gaze drifted toward the window, drawn by the faint golden glow of the setting sun.

For the second time today, you noticed how time seemed to defy logic. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the courtyard below. The same scene you'd glimpsed before your journey, untouched, as though no time at all had passed.

The dissonance between your experiences and the world's stillness tightened something in your chest.

You had been gone—traversing the Underworld, facing Cleo, singing before gods—and yet Ithaca carried on, blissfully unaware.

"I need air," you murmured, barely audible. The decision was sudden but felt necessary. If you stayed much longer, the weight of it all might pull you under.

You rose to your feet, cradling the lyre against your chest like an anchor. Your steps were purposeful as you slipped out of your room, the cool stone beneath your sandals grounding you as you made your way through the palace halls.

.☆. .✩. .☆.

When you reached the courtyard, the breeze met you like an old friend, cool and gentle against your skin. You inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs as your steps slowed. The sprawling space opened before you, framed by the shadows of cypress trees swaying softly in the wind.

For a moment, you stopped, letting yourself feel the small comfort of the ordinary—the world carrying on oblivious to the heavy truths now nestled in your chest. The air felt lighter here, and allowed yourself to simply breathe, your eyes drifting to the horizon where the sea met the sky.

With a tired smile, you began walking again, finger toying with the lyre's strings, releasing muted notes as you thought about what to play to ease both your heart and mind.

But the stillness didn't last.

"___!" A voice, urgent and breathless, broke the quiet. You turned sharply, your shawl slipping slightly from your shoulders.

Telemachus was jogging, his steps hurried and uneven, as though he'd been searching frantically for you.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. "Prince Telemachus?" you began, your voice laced with surprise.

He stopped just short of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with startling intensity. "Are you..." He hesitated, chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Are you blessed—no, favored by Apollo?"

The question hit you like a thunderclap. "Apollo?" you repeated, your voice uncertain. "Why in Hades would I be—?"

Your words faltered as your hands instinctively tightened around the lyre, its faint hum vibrated against your palm. As if it had been waiting for this moment, your mind dredged up flashes of everything you had seen and heard.

Your parents' voices came first, their parting words weaving through your thoughts like an inescapable thread.

"We were never afraid for you. Not even at the end. We knew... we knew Apollo would protect you."

""Love... don't you remember? You're favored by Apollo."

Your breath caught as the weight of their revelation pressed down anew, intertwining with the sting of Cleo's venomous accusations.

"You have everything, ____. The favor of a prince, the favor of a god. Do you even realize how selfish you are? How unfair it is that you stand here, alive and whole, while I'm stuck in this wretched place?"

The bitterness in her voice, the sight of her fractured form, flickered in your mind like a specter. And then Persephone's voice cut through, calm yet piercing:

"That lyre. It looks familiar, doesn't it? Doesn't Apollo have one just like it?"

The echoes crashed together in your mind, overlapping until you couldn't separate them anymore. The lyre. The Underworld. Apollo. Your chest tightened, your heart pounding as you swayed slightly, one hand reaching for the nearest tree to steady yourself.

You looked up at Telemachus, your hands trembling as the realization began to take hold. "I..." You hesitated, your voice cracking. "...suppose I am?"

The admission hung between you, fragile yet undeniable.

Telemachus' gaze never wavered. If anything, his expression shifted to something resolute, as though he'd come to this conclusion long before you had. "Come with me," he said abruptly, his his tone low but firm—more command than request.

Before you could protest, his hand shot out, grasping your wrist with a steady yet gentle grip. The warmth of his touch startled you, but it was the determination in his movements that left you speechless. He pulled you forward, his steps swift and purposeful, and you found yourself following without question, your sandals scuffing softly against the stone paths as he led you away from the courtyard.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

The familiar path felt strange under the dimming light, the evening shadows stretching long across the palace grounds. You recognized where he was leading—the small shed near the edge of the courtyard, its weathered wooden frame sturdy against the elements.

Telemachus pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly. The scent of aged wood and faintly lingering resin greeted you as you crossed the threshold, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The instruments lined the walls and shelves just as you had left them—lutes, flutes, harps, and more, each meticulously cared for and waiting patiently for your hands.

He released your wrist and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "Look at them," he said, gesturing to the instruments with a slight tilt of his head. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Try holding them to see if you feel it."

You blinked at him, confused. "Feel what?"

Instead of answering, he stepped back, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes didn't leave you, the weight of his gaze urging you to turn toward the instruments.

Reluctantly, you did, stepping further into the room. Your fingers hovered over the collection, hesitating before brushing against the smooth curve of a lute's neck. The wood was cool beneath your touch, familiar yet somehow different.

You trailed your hand along the edge of a trumpet, the cold metal sending a faint shiver up your arm, and then across the taut strings of a harp, each one humming faintly in the stillness.

Before you can linger too long, Telemachus moved toward one of the shelves, picking up an old ocarina and holding it out to you. "Play this."

Hesitant, you took the instrument. Its clay surface felt familiar in your hands. You brought it to your lips and played a tentative melody. The notes flowed effortlessly, as though they had always been a part of you.

When you lowered the ocarina, Telemachus was watching you with a mixture of awe and something heavier—something closer to fear. "See?" he said, his voice low. "It's not normal. You can't tell me it doesn't feel like something greater is at work."

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, your gaze dropped to the lyre still cradled in your hands. Its golden frame glowed faintly in the dim light, the hum of its strings persistent, like an extension of your heartbeat.

"It... never clicked before," you murmured, almost to yourself. "How easily I mastered them. How... natural it felt."

Telemachus nodded, his voice steady. "Think about it. How many people can pick up an instrument and make it sing the way you do? It's not just talent, ___—it's something more. Something... divine."

The words settled heavily in your chest. You thought back to the hours you'd spent playing—the way melodies had poured through you like water, effortless and unending.

It had felt like magic then, though you'd chalked it up to passion and dedication.

But now... now, you weren't so sure.

Telemachus stepped closer, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable. "It's not just music, though. What else are you good at? Think, ____. Has there ever been something you've done that felt... different?"

You frowned, frustration creeping into your tone. "I don't know," you admitted, voice taut. "I never thought of myself as anything special."

He arched a brow, his expression almost challenging. "You're saying you've never noticed anything? No moments when something came to you instinctively? When people praised you for doing something that felt ordinary to you?"

Your mind raced, fragments of memories flashing before you in rapid succession. The times you'd mastered a new instrument the day you received it. The way melodies had always seemed to flow through you, unbidden and effortless

"I... maybe," you admitted hesitantly, the weight of your own words surprising you. "But I don't know if that really means anything."

Telemachus' gaze softened, though his voice remained firm. "It means everything, ____. Think about the gods. They don't just hand out favor for no reason. If Apollo's chosen you... there's a reason behind it."

His words struck something deep within you, and you gaze dropped to the lyre in your hands. Its glow had dimmed, but the faint hum remained, steady and reassuring, as if it were waiting for you to understand.

"But... why me?" you whispered, the question trembling from your lips. It wasn't directed at him—not entirely. It was a question for the lyre, for Apollo, for the cosmos itself. "I'm nobody. Just... just a servant. Why would Apollo—or any god—choose... me?"

Telemachus' lips pressed into a thin line, his expression shadowed briefly by thought. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost gentle, yet it carried a weight that settled heavily in your chest. "Maybe it's not about who you were. Maybe it's about who you're meant to become."

The words hung between you, heavy and unyielding.

When you looked up at him, there was no trace of mockery or disbelief in his gaze. Only a steady conviction that felt as though it could shoulder the weight of your doubts. His faith, quiet and unwavering, was almost enough to make you believe it too.

A flicker of something familiar stirred in your chest—a hesitant, fragile confidence you hadn't felt since the beginning of this conversation. Your gaze dropped once more to the lyre in your hands. Its golden strings caught the dim light of the shed, the hum persistent, like a quiet reminder of its presence.

Your fingers brushed lightly over the strings, the warmth of the instrument grounding you as you gathered your thoughts. "Telemachus," you began hesitantly, your voice softer now, almost fragile, "what does it mean to be favored? Has this happened before? Has anyone else ever been..." You hesitated, searching for the right word. "Noticed?"

Telemachus leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest, his expression growing thoughtful.

Telemachus' expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest. "There are stories," he said, his tone measured. "None of them are clear, though—just fragments of things passed down over generations. People who claimed they were chosen by the gods, who carried their favor in one way or another."

Your heart quickened. "What... happened to them?"

Telemachus exhaled deeply, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. "Most of the stories... don't end well," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "Those who were favored often found themselves caught in things far beyond their control—wars, curses, quests they couldn't refuse. The gods' favor can be both a blessing and a chain, binding them to a path they can't escape."

A chill ran down your spine, your fingers tightening instinctively around the lyre. "So... it's not a good thing?" you murmured, the weight of his revelation settling heavily in your chest.

"It's not that simple," Telemachus replied, his tone gentler now. "The gods don't think the way we do. Their reasons, their goals—they're not always meant for us to understand. Favor can bring greatness, but it also brings responsibility. And if you're not ready for it..." He trailed off, his gaze flickering briefly to the lyre before returning to yours. "It can destroy you."

His words pressed against you like an invisible force, leaving you breathless. You had sought answers, clarity—but all you felt now was the suffocating weight of how fragile your life seemed in the shadow of something so vast.

"I-I don't want my life to spiral out of control." The vulnerability in your tone was startling, even to you. "I've worked so hard just to find... stability. A place where I belong. And now... it feels like everything is slipping through my fingers."

Telemachus' expression softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to something profoundly human. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice a soothing whisper. He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours with a tenderness that sent a shiver through you.

His hand closed gently around yours, his thumb grazing the back of it in a slow, deliberate motion. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, calming the tremor in your fingers. When you looked up, his steady, unwavering gaze met yours, its sincerity anchoring you in place.

"Then we'll figure it out," he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. "You're not alone in this, ___. Whatever this favor means, we'll face it together."

The simplicity of his words wrapped around you like a shield, their weight sinking deeper than you could have anticipated. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. "Together?" you echoed.

"Together," Telemachus confirmed, his thumb still brushing softly over the back of your hand. His expression left no room for doubt. "You don't have to do this alone. I'll be here. No matter what."

For a moment, the storm inside you stilled. The lyre's hum softened, its warmth settling into your chest like a quiet reassurance of its own.

You weren't sure what the future held, but with Telemachus standing beside you, the shadows didn't feel quite so overwhelming.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words fragile but earnest.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, his grip on your hand steady and sure. "Always."

The weight of his presence anchored you in a way that quieted the turmoil inside. For a fleeting moment, the world felt still, but it slipped away too quickly as he gently released your hand.

"You'll be alright, ____. Take the night to rest and think. You've been through so much already." His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the shed's small window. "And remember—you're not alone in this."

With that, he left, the faint creak of the door marking his departure.

You remained where you were, standing in the middle of the shed surrounded by instruments, the air heavy with the echoes of Telemachus' words and the weight of your revelation. The lyre in your hands hummed faintly as if mirroring the storm of emotions churning within you.

You didn't leave immediately. Your fingers brushed absently against the lyre's strings, the familiar vibration grounding you as your mind raced. Questions without answers and truths you couldn't ignore swirled together, creating a relentless storm.

The realization settling over you felt overwhelming yet oddly familiar, like a puzzle piece clicking into place after years of being misplaced.

It was only later, when the sky had fully darkened and the palace grounds were quieting down, that you finally stepped outside. The cool night air greeted you, brushing against your skin and carrying with it the faint scent of cypress and sea salt.

Your steps felt aimless, yet they carried you instinctively toward the courtyard—toward the one place that had always felt like yours.

Now, here you were, leaning against the familiar cypress tree. Its ancient trunk was sturdy at your back, the rough bark grounding you as you cradled the lyre in your lap. The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, silver glow softening the shadows across the stone pathways and swaying grass.

The gentle hum of the lyre filled the quiet air, blending with the rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets. Your fingers moved automatically, plucking the strings with a familiarity that felt second nature. The melody was soft, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts.

You weren't even sure what you were playing—only that it felt right, a reflection of the emotions swirling inside you.

As the melody unfolded, your thoughts drifted. The revelation in the shed had been startling, but now, with the night around you, a question lingered: Had it truly been a surprise? Or had some part of you always known?

You thought back to all the moments that had led you here, memories surfacing: the ease with which music had always come to you, the way instruments seemed to respond to your touch as though alive.

You had resisted the idea for so long, telling yourself it was normal, that anyone could do what you did with enough practice. But deep down, had you known? Had you pushed the truth away, afraid of what it might mean?

The thought tightened your chest, and your fingers faltered briefly on the lyre's strings. The melody wavered, then resumed, quieter now, almost hesitant. The moonlight shimmered faintly against the lyre's golden frame, its soft glow like a silent reassurance.

You sighed, the sound heavy in the stillness. Your fingers stilled as you slowly lowered the lyre to the grass. Its hum faded, leaving only the quiet night, amplified by the weight pressing on your chest.

Leaning back against the cypress tree no longer felt grounding, so you stretched out on the cool grass, the rough bark forgotten as your gaze lifted to the stars.

The sky above was vast, the stars scattered like fragments of shattered glass against a sea of ink. Their light seemed so faint, so distant, yet impossibly eternal.

Tears gathered in your eyes, misting your vision and blurring the constellations above. You blinked furiously, angry at yourself for feeling so small, so weak.

It wasn't fair.

In this world of kingdoms and gods, you were just... you. A mortal among immortals, a fragile thread caught in a tapestry too vast to comprehend. Why had Apollo chosen you? What made you worthy of the burden of divine favor? The questions swirled relentlessly, threatening to drown you in their weight, and the tears threatened to spill over again.

You clenched your fists, the cool blades of grass pressing against your palms. You weren't weak. You weren't. But under the expanse of the sky, the truth felt harder to believe.

"Such sadness doesn't suit my little muse."

The voice broke through your thoughts like a melody, sudden and startling. Your eyes shot open, and you bolted upright, glancing around the courtyard. The rustling leaves and swaying shadows of the cypress tree were unchanged—but you weren't alone.

"Here, little one."

The voice was melodic, gentle, yet it carried an undeniable weight. It felt like both a caress and a command, its presence filling the space effortlessly. You turned your head, breath catching in your throat as you followed the sound.

Standing above you was a figure unlike any you had ever seen.

He was tall—taller than any mortal man—and the moonlight framed his silhouette against the deep purples of the night sky. His golden hair shimmered as though spun from sunlight, catching the silver light with every slight movement.

Amber eyes glowed faintly, warm and piercing as they met yours, amusement and fondness shining in their depths. It felt as if he could see straight through you, as though nothing in your soul could be hidden from his gaze.

He wore a chiton of ivory fabric edged with gold embroidery, each detail catching the light as if alive. A crown of laurel leaves rested on his head, glittering faintly like starlight. His presence was overwhelming, radiant yet effortless, as though he belonged to the world but stood apart from it.

The god—because surely this was a god—stepped forward, his bare feet touching the earth softly, almost reverently, as if even the ground was blessed by his presence.

You tried to move, to speak, but your voice caught in your throat, and your limbs refused to obey. Every part of you was frozen, caught between awe and disbelief.

And yet, deep in your chest, a strange sense of familiarity bloomed.

You didn't know how, but you knew who this god was.

The name slipped from your lips like a prayer, barely audible. "A-Apollo?"

The god's amber eyes sparkled with quiet amusement, his smile deepening as he stopped just a step away and the sheer beauty of it made your heart stutter. It was warm and inviting, yet it carried a power that left you breathless.

And then everything was still.

A/N: after 20 chappies we've finally met apollo, ahhhhhhh😩 also its a little nerdish but did y'all catch on to the titles? every 'arc' i'd add an extra title to represent the love-interest/story budding or whatnot lolol, also i just had to be a lil mean and leave you all on a lil cliffhanger, MWAHHAHAHAHAH---ack---damn then chocked trynna be evil, lol,.

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world

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