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riboism · 2 days ago

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haunted ═╬ act I: the arrival

♱ content tags: centuries old vampire! seonghwa x fem reader, vampire au, gothic romance, gothic horror, story takes place circa early 1900s, reincarnation, smut, angst, forbidden love, slowburn, lots of yearning, no happy ending, blood, satanism, animal cruelty, nosferatu/bram stroker’s dracula/edward scissorhands vibes

♱ wordcount: 5.2k

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A wave of relief swept over you as the crisp, refreshing breeze of late October kissed your cheeks. The train ride to Cromer Ridge had been a seemingly endless ordeal—stuffy, suffocating, and filled with doubts that gnawed at your tenacity. Every mile of the journey was shadowed by second-guessing and an almost unbearable longing to turn back. Yet, deep down, you knew there was no returning to the life you had left behind. Starting over was daunting, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on your spirit. But you also knew it was time to release the past, to embrace the opportunity for renewal. Though your unfamiliar surroundings felt discouraging, you steeled yourself to take the first step forward.

Your first task upon arriving at your new home was clear: find a job. The urgency of the times was palpable, and the job board near the platform was already surrounded by a crowd of weary, determined faces.

A sigh escaped you as your shoulders slumped in quiet defeat. The list of available positions read like a declaration of exclusion. Coal miner. Machinist. Bricklayer. Though the words “No women inquirers” weren’t printed, the message was clear. And who would hire you anyway? You were a woman, expected to secure financial stability through marriage—or, if desperation struck, by selling yourself in ways too degrading to voice. Your only skills were the domestic trifecta of sewing, cooking, and cleaning—skills instilled in you by a mother who saw no greater purpose than preparing you for marriage, a means to lighten the financial burden of an unwanted daughter.

Just as hopelessness began to settle in, something caught your eye. At the far end of the board, a single yellowed flyer flapped in the breeze, its ink faded and edges curling. It seemed forgotten, avoided even, as the crowd conspicuously steered clear of that corner. Curious, you stepped closer, your heart inexplicably quickening. The faded words were difficult to make out, but you pieced them together as best you could:

Live-in housekeeper needed. Inquire at the Park Estate.

⸺

“Excuse me, sir, can you tell me how to get to the Park Estate?”

The lively chatter and rhythmic clinking of shot glasses halted. One by one, the tavern’s patrons turned their attention toward you, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. The bartender froze mid-motion, his dishrag suspended above the bar as he gawked at the wide-eyed newcomer who had dared to ask such a question.

“What business do you have there?” he asked, his voice laced with thinly veiled disgust.

“I’m inquiring about a position there,” you replied, the words tumbling out sheepishly as the weight of the room’s gaze settled on you. “The one posted at the rail.”

A ripple of murmurs coursed through the crowd.

“Someone really oughta take that flyer down.”

“I heard that’s how he gets his victims—lures them up there with promises of work, then poof, they’re never seen again!”

“You know, he harvests human limbs for the black market! That’s how he keeps that eyesore of a castle funded.”

“Did you hear what the butcher’s wife said? She swears she saw Count Park skulking around town weeks ago, creeping like a ghost!”

“No way. He wouldn’t dare come down here. He knows he’s unwelcome. That’s why he stays up there, feasting on stray cats and whatever he can find.”

The whispers swirled, growing darker with every utterance. The stories painted a picture of a man—or perhaps a creature—that was nothing short of monstrous. The rumors about Count Park were wild and fantastical, their macabre details echoing the haunting bedtime tales your grandmother once told of strange creatures lurking in the shadows, snatching disobedient children to devour.

The bartender hesitated, his brow furrowed. You didn’t know it then, but you’d made a mistake by asking about what the townsfolk referred to as the “Dead End of Cromer Ridge.” Park Estate was no ordinary home; it was a brooding castle perched on the edge of town, shrouded in mystery and whispered fear. No one dared to venture close, and few could even confirm whether Count Park was still alive. Some said he’d gone mad with grief after the death of his wife, his isolation breeding festering darkness. Others insisted he had dabbled in Satanic rituals, turning himself into a vampire—a bloodthirsty creature doomed to stalk the night.

Every tale was more grotesque than the last, but one truth remained constant: the very mention of his estate sent a chill down the spines of the townsfolk.

After a long pause, the bartender finally relented. “Straight down, take a left at the old sign, and head west. It’s a steep climb—I doubt it’ll be easy to make it up there.”

You murmured your thanks and quickly exited, trying not to let the hushed gossip of the patrons unsettle you. But as you stepped into the cold evening, a sense of unease lingered. The townspeople weren’t just unfriendly—they seemed haunted, consumed by fear of the Count. And their fear had a way of clinging to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.

⸺

The bartender hadn’t exaggerated—the hill was brutal. Each step felt heavier than the last, your calves burning as fatigue clawed its way into your limbs. The path grew darker with every stride, the last rays of sunlight vanishing beneath the horizon, leaving only the oppressive gloom of night. In the distance, the castle loomed, stark and unwelcoming against the dusky sky. Its jagged silhouette seemed carved from shadow, a brooding presence that radiated unease.

As you drew closer, doubt began to fester. A small voice in your mind whispered to turn back, to abandon this unsettling journey. Something about the air felt off—thick and heavy, as though it carried the weight of a hundred unspoken warnings. Perhaps the townsfolk’s sinister murmurs had worked their way into your head, or perhaps it was the creeping dread that came with nightfall. Yet, no matter how many reasons you found to retreat, one undeniable truth remained: you’d come too far to turn back.

The promise of a warm bed, of shelter from the biting chill, was enough to propel you forward. Where else could you go? Who else would take you in? Pushing your unease aside, you pressed on, even as every instinct screamed otherwise.

The moment your foot touched the porch, an icy shiver raced down your spine. The boards groaned beneath your weight, the sound sharp and accusatory in the oppressive silence. The castle’s windows were boarded up, their blackened edges like gaping scars. The wind howled through unseen cracks, coaxing eerie creaks and groans from the ancient structure, as though it were alive and watching. The bushes lining the walkway were disturbingly pristine, their neatness at odds with the house’s decayed and foreboding aura. If not for their immaculate care, you might have thought the place was abandoned.

Your breath hitched as you reached for the door. The metal hoop of the knocker was freezing against your palm, and for a moment, you hesitated, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. With a trembling hand, you lifted it and knocked, the sound reverberating through the still night like the toll of a bell. A death bell, perhaps.

You stood there, waiting. Seconds stretched into an eternity, the silence amplifying every stray sound—the rustling of leaves, the creaking of old wood, the faint whisper of the wind. Your nerves began to fray, and just as you were about to knock again, a sudden noise made you whip around.

A crow landed on the railing with a thud, its black eyes glinting like polished onyx. It tilted its head, staring at you with an unnerving intensity, as though it were delivering a silent warning: Turn back. Leave now.

But you couldn’t. It was too late. The journey here had already cost you too much, and the thought of retreating to nothing—a cold, inhospitable town, a life of uncertainty—kept your feet rooted in place. Even as dread coiled tighter around your heart, you remained, the weight of your decision pressing heavier than ever.

You jolted as the grand doors creaked open, the deep, groaning sound echoing in the stillness. The noise rooted you to the spot, your pulse hammering in your ears. Until this moment, you hadn’t stopped to consider who would be behind the door. What sort of person lived in a place like this? Why was he so hated? What if the rumors were true—what if he was dangerous?

Your imagination conjured a monster—sharp yellow teeth bared in a sinister grin, hollow eyes that seemed to pierce the soul, leathery, pale skin stretched tight over angular bones. His voice would be guttural and broken, a sound that carried only misfortune and dread. You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for this creature to appear.

But the door stopped after only opening slightly, leaving just a sliver of darkness visible beyond. No figure emerged, no silhouette loomed. Silence followed, heavy and expectant.

“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

There was no response. You hesitated, glancing back down the shadowy path you’d climbed. The idea of retracing that perilous journey in the dead of night frightened you. Desperation flared within you, pushing you to speak again.

“I saw your ad on the job board. For a housekeeper? I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” you began, the words spilling out quickly. “I-Is the position still open? I’ve been cooking and cleaning all my life. I can stitch a warm coat in two days, and hats, gloves, and scarves in less than one. I noticed your bushes—they’re well cared for. I know a lot about gardening; my father taught me—”

The door suddenly widened, cutting off your nervous rambling. A rush of frigid air spilled out, carrying with it the faint scent of damp wood and aged stone. You hesitated, then stepped inside, expecting warmth to greet you. But instead, the chill intensified, the air biting at your skin like icy needles.

The man who had opened the door had vanished, his presence already dissolved into the shadows. The heavy doors groaned as you pushed them closed, their weight demanding your full effort.

Turning back around, you finally took in the house. In the dim flicker of candlelight, the interior revealed itself in pieces, like a dream shifting into focus. The grand entryway was vast, yet suffocating, the kind of place that seemed to watch you back. The floor was a checkered sea of black and white marble, cracked in places and dulled by time. A massive staircase dominated the space, its dark oak banister coiled like a serpent rising toward the upper floors. The air smelled faintly of wax and mildew.

Dust clung to every surface, turning once beautiful furniture into ghostly relics. A cracked mirror hung crookedly on the far wall, its gilded frame tarnished and webbed with cobwebs. A dark red, velvety tapestry drooped sadly from its mount, its colors faded and threads unraveling. Scattered across a long wooden table were odd, forgotten items: loose buttons, dried ink bottles, and what appeared to be a single leather glove, stiffened with age. Despite the grandeur, the house felt as though it had been abandoned to the passage of time, its opulence rotting away in quiet decay.

You held your chest tightly, your pulse quickening as you tried to quell the unease clawing at you.

“Eighteen dollars a month.”

The voice came from above, low and rich like the stroke of velvet against bare skin. It was smooth, refined, and utterly at odds with the house and its rumors. You snapped your head up, your eyes darting toward the staircase.

There he was. A figure stood at the top of the stairs, his silhouette cloaked in the shadows. He was too far away to make out clearly, his back turned to you as he rested one hand lightly on the banister.

“You start tomorrow,” the voice continued, steady and composed, though tinged with something you couldn’t name. “Do not wake me. Your quarters are down the hall to your left.”

With that, he was gone, disappearing into the upper darkness as quickly and silently as he’d appeared.

You stood there, rooted in place, the chill of the house seeping into your very bones. The unexpected smoothness of his voice lingered in your mind, disarming in its elegance. And yet, it wasn’t enough to shake the oppressive weight of the home, with its decayed grandeur and shadows that seemed to shift when you weren’t looking.

Your quarters, tucked away at the far end of the hall, were modest compared to the rest of the house—but that was to be expected for the help, you supposed. The space was sparse yet functional, its simplicity offering a quiet reprieve from the unsettling grandeur outside its door.

A soft white bed stood against the wall, its quilt worn but clean, promising a much-needed rest for your aching body. Beside it, a small desk sat neatly, complete with an oil lamp and a sheaf of blank paper, an unspoken invitation to write letters you weren’t sure would ever reach anyone. A large armoire dominated the opposite corner, its dark wood polished to an eerie sheen, its brass handles shaped like twisting vines. Though you had packed light, the armoire’s cavernous emptiness made your belongings seem smaller still.

You settled into the room cautiously, smoothing your hand over the quilt as you perched on the edge of the bed. Despite its simplicity, the room felt...off. Perhaps it was the silence that hung so heavily in the air or the faint chill that lingered, despite the walls being thick and the windows shut tight.

Your mind churned as you tried to make sense of everything—the decayed opulence of the house, the cryptic demeanor of the Count, and the strange, fearful gossip that followed his name. What kind of man was he, truly? You realized with a sinking feeling that you still had no idea what he even looked like. The thought nagged at you, stirring up an unease that clung to the edges of your thoughts like cobwebs.

The strangeness of it all—the place, the person, the situation—was unnerving, and yet, there was a small part of you that whispered it was too late to turn back now. The journey had been long and unforgiving, and there was no guarantee of shelter if you left.

Your body, however, had little patience for your anxious mind. The weight of the day bore down on you, and your fatigue eventually overpowered your worries. You stretched out on the bed, its softness wrapping around you like a cocoon. As your eyes fluttered closed, the strangeness of the house loomed over you, lingering in your thoughts like a shadow.

But soon, the stillness of sleep claimed you and the unsettling mysteries of your new life were left to haunt the night.

⸺

You awoke just as the first rays of dawn slipped through the cracks in the heavy curtains, casting faint golden streaks across the room. To your surprise, you felt well-rested, the ache of yesterday’s journey soothed by the quiet stillness of the night. The house, with all its looming shadows and unsettling whispers, had not disturbed your sleep.

Sitting up slowly, you stretched your arms overhead, feeling the stiffness melt from your shoulders. A yawn escaped your lips as you rubbed the lingering drowsiness from your eyes, the warmth of the quilt still clinging to your skin. For a brief moment, the morning felt almost normal—peaceful, even.

But as your feet touched the cold floor, that fleeting comfort dissolved. The air in the room was still and heavy as if the house itself had been holding its breath while you slept. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been watching, waiting.

Shaking off the thought, you steeled yourself for the day ahead. Whatever the peculiarities of this house or its master, you had work to do.

In the cold kitchen, you set the tea kettle over the fire, the soft crackle of the flames breaking the otherwise oppressive silence. As you watched the water begin to simmer, a thought crept into your mind: should you prepare a cup for the Count? It seemed polite, perhaps even expected, but then you remembered his firm instruction not to wake him.

Maybe he simply valued his solitude—or his sleep. You could understand that; mornings were a sanctuary for some. Still, the uncertainty of your role gnawed at you. What kind of man didn’t even outline what he wanted from his housekeeper? You glanced at the kettle again, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling.

You reassured yourself that time would bring clarity. By nightfall, surely, you would understand his routine and expectations. For now, you took comfort in the steady rhythm of small tasks, grounding yourself in the familiar while the unfamiliar loomed just beyond your reach.

As you moved around the kitchen, its grandeur dulled by the thick coat of dust, the scale of your work became painfully clear. The counters, once polished to a gleaming finish, were now layered with grime. A tower of mismatched dishes teetered precariously in the sink, their surfaces streaked with stains that told of long-neglected meals. The pantry was nearly bare—just a few stale loaves of bread, an old jar of jam, and some long-forgotten tins tucked into the corners.

You sighed, shaking your head as you rummaged through the cabinets. At least there were some spare biscuits, and with the tea brewing steadily, you’d make do for now. A trip to town for supplies seemed inevitable, though the thought of braving the peculiar townsfolk again didn’t thrill you.

After nibbling on the dry biscuits and sipping the hot tea, you wandered through the halls, taking in your new surroundings. Even as the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, the house remained shrouded in shadows. The wooden panels nailed over the windows blocked most of the light, forcing you to rely on the flickering glow of the few lit candles. The air felt thick and heavy, the faint scent of mildew lingering in the corners.

The living room, if you could call it that, was a chaos of clutter. Melted candle wax had pooled and hardened on the floorboards, books lay scattered across the furniture, and a once-elegant rug was curled at the edges, its patterns obscured by dust. A broken clock leaned precariously against a wall, its glass face cracked and the hands forever frozen in time.

You crouched down to scrape some of the hardened wax from the floor, the task already feeling endless. A sigh escaped your lips. Yes, there was much work to be done—more than you had expected.

But as daunting as it seemed, you reminded yourself of the warmth and security that this place, for all its strangeness, provided. Rolling up your sleeves, you resolved to tackle the disarray piece by piece, determined to bring some semblance of order to the house. Whatever secrets this place held, at least you’d have the satisfaction of a clean floor beneath your feet.

⸺

The afternoon had slipped away, and your work felt far from done. The kitchen and dining room had consumed the better part of the day, leaving your back aching and your hands stiff. The thought of tackling the grand living room and foyer loomed over you like a heavy cloud. You’d been busy with the senseless tasks of cleaning and reorganizing, but there were still errands to run. The idea of facing more work in the house was enough to make you pause.

You slipped into your warm coat, wrapped a scarf tightly around your head, and stood at the door, pausing for a moment. You glanced up the staircase, half-expecting to see a glimpse of your master. But there was only silence. No movement, no sign of him. Perhaps he was still asleep.

With a loud sigh, you grabbed your purse and stepped out into the chilly air, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. The path down to town felt long, but it was a welcome distraction from the house and the work that awaited you when you returned.

The journey down the hill felt longer today, your never-ending thoughts slowing your steps. You passed the same familiar buildings, the same curious eyes peering at you from behind the small shops and homes, but today, there was a different sort of tension in the air. You knew the townsfolk still whispered behind your back, their words like echoes of a story you couldn’t quite grasp. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the task at hand: groceries. Yet, their comments continued to swirl in your mind.

“Don’t meet her eyes, she carries his curse within her,” one of the shopkeepers muttered under her breath to a customer as you walked past. You caught only fragments of their conversation, but the few words you did hear made you shudder in place.

Their whispers were distinct—filled with warnings, judgments, and fear. It was as if the townspeople saw you as a shadow of the Count, carrying with you a dark energy that left them uneasy in your presence. Their words wrapped around you like a curse, as though you, too, were tainted by something malevolent. They spoke of you as if you were a mirror of the Count’s darkness, forcing them to avert their eyes and steer clear of your path altogether.

You pushed yourself forward, determined to finish your task. The items you needed weren’t difficult to gather, but the weight of their gaze made everything feel heavier. You hurried, and by the time you reached the shop’s counter, you realized you had forgotten a few things, the very basics that had slipped from your mind in the rush of the day.

With a sigh, you made your way back to the estate, the basket of groceries now even more cumbersome. The long hill back up to the house made your legs ache, but it wasn’t just your body that felt worn—your mind too felt numb, with feelings of anxiety and uncertainty making it impossible to think about what to do for dinner.

When you returned, the sun was already making its way down, and the house was as silent as before. You set the groceries down in the kitchen, eyes wandering over the untouched spaces, the dust that still lingered.

You quickly got to work, preparing a simple dinner for yourself and your master. The faint smell of burning wood and the steady crackle of the fire filled the air, offering you little comfort as you set the table for one. The clink of the dishes was the loudest sound in the room, your own heartbeat keeping time with each dish you placed.

As you adjusted the final details on the table, you heard the soft creak of the door. The flames flickered unexpectedly, casting dancing shadows across the room. A chill swept over you, settling in the pit of your stomach as the temperature seemed to drop with his arrival.

You turned, and there he stood, filling the doorway with a presence so striking it almost stole your breath. His gaze locked onto you, and the cold that had crept in from the draft seemed to melt away, replaced by something much warmer—an almost familiar tension that pulled at your chest, making it harder to breathe.

He wasn’t what you had expected. His appearance was nothing like the monster the townspeople had whispered about. There were no signs of age or decay, only ethereal beauty—as if he was sculpted by some divine hand. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain, with a soft glow that seemed to catch the dim light from the candles. His dark, glossy eyes were like deep pools, glinting with a mystery that held your gaze far longer than you intended. His perfectly sculpted cheekbones added to the sharpness of his face, giving him a sense of quiet nobility, yet there was something undeniably otherworldly about him.

He lingered at the doorway for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—shock, maybe, as though he hadn’t expected you to be there. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying you, and the weight of his gaze made your shoulders tense. Your fingers found the hem of your apron, fidgeting as you tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he seemed to catch himself. His posture straightened, and his expression softened, the sharpness of his gaze retreating behind a veil of composure, as though he’d realized he might have given too much of himself away.

Your heart pounded as you thought of what to say. Gathering your courage, you managed a small, polite smile. "Good evening, sir," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I—I prepared some soup and fresh bread. I thought it might be to your liking."

He approached you slowly, each measured step echoing in the room, the sound of his heels against the wooden floor making your chest tighten with anticipation. As he drew nearer, the air seemed to shift, heavier with every step. Just as he reached your side, he stopped abruptly, his gaze dropping to the dinner you had so carefully prepared.

"Thank you," he said, his voice smooth and velvety, resonating like a soft hum that seemed to linger in the stillness. There was a pause before his eyes flicked back to you, and his next words came softly but firmly. "What is your name?"

The weight of his presence pressed against you, and your nerves heightened as you whispered, “Y/N, sir…” You kept your voice low, unsure whether to meet his gaze or keep your eyes lowered. The tension prickled at the back of your neck, your hands clasping tightly before you.

He didn’t sit immediately but instead lingered at the head of the table, his long fingers idly tracing the wood of the chair. When he finally spoke, his voice was commanding yet smooth, every word material.

“I apologize for meeting you so late,” he began, his dark eyes briefly glancing at you before settling on the untouched bowl before him. “I work well into the night and, as such, must sleep during the day.” His tone carried authority, leaving no room for argument.

He picked up the spoon, stirring the soup languidly, the movement unnervingly slow. “You’ve done well so far,” he remarked, the faintest trace of approval in his words. “The dining room is spotless. It has been far too long since I dined in here. My work consumes my time, leaving my poor estate neglected.” He paused, his gaze sharpening as it flicked back to you. “Cleanliness is paramount. My work demands focus, and I will not tolerate distractions. I trust you will uphold these expectations.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope to please you and exceed your standards.”

His jaw tightened subtly, and for a moment, you worried you had misspoken. But he continued, his tone precise. “As I said, I cannot tolerate distractions. You are not to enter my workspace or my chambers. The entire upstairs is off-limits. There are valuables there that require privacy and care.” He hesitated briefly, his mouth parted slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “There is little up there that requires your attention.”

The restriction struck you as strange, but you nodded. “Understood, sir.”

“Your duties,” he continued, his tone crisp, “include daily cleaning, maintaining the estate grounds, and running errands in town as needed. For groceries and supplies, bring back receipts, and I will reimburse you with your pay.” He paused, his voice growing softer but no less firm. “There are also a few rules you must follow.”

“Yes, sir?” You straightened slightly, bracing yourself.

“Firstly,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “I am not to be disturbed during the day. My rest is crucial, and interruptions will not be tolerated unless it is a matter of life or death.”

“Yes, sir,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Second…” He cleared his throat, “Do not touch the wooden planks. The windows are boarded up due to a previous mishap, and unfortunately, there aren’t many architects nearby to fix it.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“And finally,” his voice dropped lower, carrying an ominous edge, “do not venture outside after sunset. The forest is dangerous—predators prowl in the dark. You would do well to heed my warning.”

A chill coursed through you at the severity of his words, the weight of his warning making it clear he meant every syllable. “I understand,” you murmured.

He gestured toward the table before finally lowering himself into the chair. “You’ve done well today,” he said, adjusting the napkin in his lap with methodical care. “I trust you’ll continue to prove yourself capable.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your chest.

He picked up the spoon again, swirling the soup without taking a bite. The hesitation made you anxious—had you made the wrong choice of meal? Your mind raced back to the town, chastising yourself for forgetting to stop at the butcher. You watched as the vegetables spun lazily in the broth, but his expression remained impassive.

“That will be all for tonight,” he said abruptly, his tone cool. He set the spoon down, folding his hands over the edge of the table. “You may take your dinner to your quarters.”

“Goodnight, sir.” You nodded, retreating with careful steps, the weight of his presence lingering long after you exited the room.

⸺

You eased your tired body onto the mattress, but sleep eluded you. The encounter with the Count played over and over in your mind, every word, every glance dissected in the stillness of your room. There was something peculiar about him—his aloofness, the subtle weight in his voice, the way he seemed to measure his every movement.

What exactly did he do? He hadn’t mentioned it, though whatever it was must be lucrative, given the grandeur of the estate. Yet, that same home felt hollow, like a gilded cage rather than a place of comfort.

Your thoughts wandered to his appearance—so striking, so unexpected. He was undeniably beautiful. How could someone so captivating hide away in such a bleak and isolated castle, so far removed from the rest of the world? And why was someone who seemed so young living alone in such a vast and lonely estate? Where was his family?

And then there was that look he gave you—just for a fleeting moment, but enough to unsettle you. It was as though he was disappointed upon seeing you, his dark eyes carrying a strange mixture of pain and defeat. You couldn’t name it precisely, but it lingered in your mind, an odd tension you couldn’t shake.

Everything about him was odd—the house, his demeanor, his rules. And yet, there was something magnetic about him that kept your thoughts tethered to him, even as your body begged for rest. It would be no surprise if you dreamed of him too. His image lingered in your mind like a shadow cast by moonlight—too vivid to ignore, too enigmatic to understand. You closed your eyes, trying to banish the thoughts, but his face remained, carved into the fabric of your imagination as you fell deeper into sleep.

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act II: the count ➜

#seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #ateez fanfic #seonghwa angst #my works: haunted

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zeherili-ankhein · 2 days ago

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Tell me the the thakumar jhuli storie please🥰

OKK SOOO TIME FOR MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE TALE EVERRRRR

This is my favourite favourite story of all time and i was so upset not many people know this 😭 there's an animated version too by ssoftoons but it doesn't do any justice to the story... So here's me rambling it out

Also tagging y'all @randomx123 @jeahreading @krishna-priyatama @foreignink @ishaaron-ishaaron-me @igotadigbickandureadthatwrong @dwarpharini @priestessofuniverse @no-idea-where-i-am-lost @desigurlie @shubhadeep385 @stxrrynxghts @no-idea-where-i-am-lost cuz the story is soo crazy and so dear to me I wanted to share it lol

Trigger warning: bitchass people, killing those bitchass people, traumatic childhood, raw meat, arrange marriage, breast milk, lowkey mention of sh accusations, long hair, and a lot of questionable stuff... And cannibalism... If that counts... 💀 And lots of swearing

So in the starting of the story, we are introduced to this really lazy brahmin. He's so lazy him and his wife are in poverty 💀 (like I can feel you sir I am lazy too!! but get some money dude) he does begging and goes with his day with the money he gets 💀

One day brahmani get's to know that the neighbouring kingdom's prince is getting married and the king is gonna arrange a feast for all the brahmins and everyone who'll attend, and gift them money and stuff.

So brahmani tells her lazyass husband to go attend the wedding and get the gold ✨✨ but dude is so lazy he's literally like laying on the floor whinning about not wanting to do any work.

Brahmin: im too lazy we are well with the money we have no?

Brahmani: go or I'll kill myself 🗿

Brahmin: ..... 💀🤌

But bou boleche so he needs to get going... 🗿🤌

........

So now while he's going he's literally so lazy and introverted he doesn't even know the way to that kingdom and didn't ask anyone 💀 and so now he's lost in the forest doing Dora the explorer shit

Then he's roaming in the forest and notices a Korir pahar (ig this was the time period when they used shells as currency...) so he's like “wtf?? there's literally so much money and nobody noticed??” but he continues to go on.. (dude is so unbothered bruhh)

Then he notices adhulir pahar.. (idk what that is but must be some kinda currency) then takar pahar and dude skips each of them like unwanted youtube adds 💀🤌

At the end he notices a gold coin mountain (mohorer pahar 🏔️) 🗿 and brahmin is like o.O seeing all that, then he notices that there's a big palace at the foot of that mountain (red alarm bro get out of there asap)

......

Then he notices a beautiful woman standing at the door of the palace motioning him to go near her. (Ig my guy doesn't know the rule to NEVER trusts sundari aurat at the middle of nowhere... Especially the one's that's calling ya to get close... 💀)

So he's now confused but get's to the door anyways... And asks her “who tf are you and why are you here???”

Sundari: you don't remember me? :(

Brahmin: ....no..

Sundari: how will you remember me... It was so long before, when you were kids..

Sundari: that we got married in this palace, it was so beautiful...

Sundari: now come inside and take some rest

Brahmin: GURL WHA-

He legit wonders when tf did that happen and why he remembers nothing, but thinks maybe they DID get married as kids because Kulin Brahmins used to get married more than once... (Now this is where I got to know this information lol)

Tho he warns her that he can't remember shit.. and she just laughs it of by saying he doesn't need to work his brain so much and can just rest without worries 💀

.....

The palace is BIG and is as usual filled with riches and golds and silvers and gemstones, BUT sundari stays alone in that place. And if the Brahmin wanted to know why, she just said a sad story and went with it... 💀

NOW here's a big plot revealed. The sundari is actually a rakkhushi who killed all the citizens of that kingdom and everyone in the palace and, just took over the place turning it into a forest 💀 (that's why you don't trust strangers brahmin bro...)

.......

So now Brahmin is legit staying in that palace with her 💀🤌 (ig they did the deed too.. lol) and he kind of forgot about his wife at home... (Bruhhh)

Sundari tells him to bring his wife to that palace so that they all can live together happily. Saying it's not her fault he mistakenly married her... 🤡 (The audacity bro the audacity!!!)

But brahmin is intelligent 🗿 he knows if he keeps both wives together they are gonna fight. And says “nahh she can stay at the city, I'll go visit her once in a while”

But sundari forces him to go get her saying they won't fight or be jealous and she'd stay nicely with her. So brahmin agrees to go get wifey...

.....

Now this side brahmani is like worried sick because dude is missing for SO long, and all the other brahmins that had went to the wedding had returned and they all said he wasn't with them at the wedding so she's like “more gache re amar bor 💀” and she's like on the verge of calling herself a bidhoba when dude returns.

That also in expensive clothes and with riches and clothes for her. So she's like happy that her husband is back and cries happily.

Brahmin tells her about everything that happened and she's like “bruhhh you literally returned back from a rakkhushi and you wanna go back? Don't be a dumbass” and he says “bu-but she's pretty 🥺 so she can't be a rakkhoshi 🗿” (aurat ka chakkar hai babu bhaiya....)

Brahmani gets convinced that yeah that might be cuz why tf it won't be. 💀 So they leave for that random ass palace in the middle of nowhere.

........

They take their gorib manush stuff (it's a joke im not making fun of anyone's econimic status 💀👍) and set to go settle in that palace.

When they reach the palace, that Sundari was already at the gate waiting for them with a big smile. And as soon as they entered she hugged brahmani like “yooo sautan how have ya been” 💀

She legit goes “we're sisters now don't worry about me being jealous hehe” (that's a red flag that's a BIG RED FLAG!!!”

.......

So anyways they stay there well and good, and years go by and now brahmin has two kids 🗿 One with the sundari/rakshashi — Shohosrodol (see see they did the hulalala) and one with brahmani — Chompokdol

✨AND THESE TWO ARE THE HEROES OF THE STORYYY✨

Well not for me I only consider Chompok my hero (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

But whatever back to plot....

.......

Shohosro and Chompok are like besties for life, two peas in a pod, two body one soul kinda close. They literally can't leave without eachother. 🗿✨

And they go to these neighbourhood kingdom school on their POKKHIRAJ GHORA BRO THEY POKKHIRAJ GHORA!!!! And study and play around and everything, they look good (Chompok looks better idc) and everything typical rupkothar golpo hero has.

Now amidst everything, while living with the humans around her, rakkhushi bbg kinda forgot the taste of raw meat and just became like a normal married mohila living with her family 🤡

But one day finally our lazy lad brahmin finally decides he's getting too useless doing nothing “khub beshi boshe boshe shorir e jong lege jachhe shikar korte jabo” 🗿💀

So whatever he goes hunting and brings back animals and stuff like rabbits or deer or swans. And the kiddos literally jump with joy each time he brings in a deer (and from here I got to know back then deer meat was a delicacy for bengalis)

And NOW NOW NOW, seeing so much raw uncooked meat in front of her our pookie cookie rakkhushi is like “DAMN BRO I NEED MEAT IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I ATE RAW MEAT” but for obvious reasons she can't tell that to anyone

So she decides she'd just regularly sneak into the kitchen take some chunk of the meat from the dead animal before it's cooked and DEVOUR it. 💀🗿

.......

Now one day brahmani notices that meat is going missing and one day decides she'd hide in the kitchen and see what's the matter.

She waits and watch as rakkhoshi comes and pulls the meat out from the window and eats it. And get's scared cuz wtf they are ACTUALLY living with a rakkhoshi.

She doesn't says anything but the next day she's like

Brahmani: didi do you know meat is going missing nowadays...?

Rakkhoshi: ....is it?

Brahmani: yeah you know why?

Rakkhoshi: how would ik

Brahmani: ik who you are stop pretending

Rakkhoshi: yeah whatever im gonna eat you and your husband now, be prepared you two would be in my stomach by tomorrow noon, then your son too

💀 So yeah... girlie went and confronted her like a dumbass in place of running away in secret 💀🤌

.....

Now brahmani is worried that even if she dies she doesn't want her son to die (mom cares) she stays awake the entire night wondering what to do. Then at dawn she wakes up Chompok urging him not return from school that day, telling him about the rakkhoshi and everything.

She gives him a small container with her breast milk in it. And tells him, if the milk turns a little red then to know Chompok's parents are in danger, a little more red and his dad is dead, completely blood red then his mom is also dead. 💀

Even tho Chompok didn't understood it completely he still agreed to do as asked amd goes to school with Shohosro on their POKKHIRAJ GHORA

.......

But on their way he kept looking anxious and continuously checked the container so Shohosro got worried and asked what was wrong but pookie kept denying and just said everything was fine even when th milk turned a little red.

But at one point he checked and it was completely red, because on that side while the Brahmin was bathing in a pond, the rakkhoshi killed and ate him then ate the brahmani. 💀

So now after seeing the red af milk, Chompok falls down from his pokkhiraj ghora while he was busy crying and trying to run away from Shohosro.

Worried Shohosro ran behind him, landing just next to Chompok taking his head in his lap asking what's wrong as he rambles and cries to him, telling him, that his rakkhoshi maa killed his parents. Now Shohosro is like 💀 cuz he's hearing it for the first time that his mother is a rakkhoshi.

Now rakkhoshi darling comes running in her real form yelling at them for Shohosro to step aside as that's her son so she'll not do him any harm and she would just eat Chompok.

BUT our hero Shohosro is like “fuck you woman that's my brother you are talking about I ain't moving aside I'm fighting you” 🗿🗿 (we'll he's a pookie cookie) and yeah... He killed his momma using his sword (slayyyyyyy like literally)

........

Now both Shohosro and Chompok are wondering in a new place thinking what to do with their life now because it's getting late

They come accross a home and decides to ask them to let them stay there for the night and goes to sleep as soon as they hit the bed.

When they wake up later, they hear some commotion happening in the front of the house, as the members of the family are arguing about something.

They are like “na na ami buro hoye gechi ami jabo” “na na ami shobar chhoto ami jabo ami gele karor jaye ashbe na” 💀🤌

So both the brothers are like tf is going on and they go ask the head of the family that what's the matter

Buro lok: so one day a random ass rakkhosh came from nowhere and terrorized us killed people here and there

Buro lok: so our king decided that we will offer one human to him every night so that he doesn't kill anyone

Buro lok: so now each night one person from a family goes and wait at that old Shib mondir at the end

Buro lok: untill the rakkhosh comes at the third hour of the night to eat them

Buro lok: and today it's our family's turn, so we are deciding who'd go.

Then Shohosro and Chompok are like

The bros: yeah we will go

Buro lok: but tomra amader otithi you can't go

The bros: you guys let us stay so now we are family we will go

Buro lok: .....ok 😔

These two bitches really argue like some pro debater to go to the death game that's about to happen 💀

.....

Now at the Shib mondir, Chompok is like “ykw im too sleepy you stay awake and I'll go take a mosher moto ghum” 💀 So Shohosro is like “ok little bro as you wish :3” and he stays awake.

In some time the rakkhosh comes banging at the door

Rakkhosh dude: bhetore ke re?

Shohosro: ami Shohosrodol sathe bhai Chompokdol ar duto pokkhoraj ghora 🗿

Rakkhosh dude in his mind: damn that's kid got rakkhosh blood in him can't eat him, I'll come later.

This happens another time before Shohosro wakes up Chompok cause he was feeling sleepy now, so he tells Chompok what to tell when the Rakkhosh comes, telling him to say that word by word before he nake tel diye ghumiye pore. 💀

......

Time comes and the rakkhosh comes too, and asks the same question but Chompok in a panic says “ami Chompokdol sathe Shohosrodol ar pokkhiraj ghora” and as soon as he said that rakkhosh is like yessss food and tries to break the door.

Shohosro wakes up with a startle hearing all the noice and as soon as the rakkhosh breaks the door, he kills him using his sword 🗿🗿 (boi is a warrior)

So now they are like okay yeah the rakkhosh is dead? and his giant head is laying on the floor? Who cares we are gonna give a moron ghum rn...

Next day people see the big ass rakkhosh's body and the news go to the king, who at first doesn't believe that someone killed the rakkhosh but later decides to go see for himself.

He comes and sees the body and is like shocked pikachu face, and opens the door to get inside seeing the head just randomly laying just like that. Then he notices as Shohosro and Chompok wakes up fron their beauty sleep and asks who killed that bitch.

They are like “Shohosro killed him 🗿” and king is like “thats it I had planned whomever would kill the rakkhosh, I'll get him married to my daughter so now Shohosro is my jamai 🗿”

.....

So anyways they get married and rajamoshai plans to give away half of his kingdom to Shohosro, so ofcourse they starts to stay at the kingdom. (ghor jamai my dear)

BUT the queen of that kingdom has a favourite dashi who's also secretly a rakkhoshi 💀 but nobody knows that. She goes out of the palace each night to eat, somedays picking up goru or chagol or somedays a randomass manush just like that. And nobody found out who's doing that bruhhh 💀💀

So Chompok, who usually sleeps late at night (just like mehhh) starts to notice the odd behaviour of that rakkhoshi dashi 🗿(btw the king built him his own palace to stay 🗿) but now dashi is alert cuz dude is literally a threat to her identity 💀.

So what she does? Complains to the queen that Chompok can't stand her and is threatening to kill her and everything (this didn't sit well with me, I feel like this perticular part had something... I feel like she was lowkey accusing Chompok of harrasment 💀🤌 cuz the words were like that)

......

Maharani ofcourse believed her favourite dashi over a randomass stranger boy (well not completely since he's her son-in-law's brother but still) and decided she'd go tell moharaj to throw out Chompok 💀 (sed life)

BUT our man our savior Shohosro heard her and he was like💀😰 what did my brother do to get this treatment I gotta save him...

So he wrote a letter saying “my dear brather I love you forever but you gotta get out of this kingdom... leave by tonight and don't come back” and send it to Chompok's place in secret (like bkl atleast have the decency to go tell him yourself 💀🤌)

So anyways... Chompok receives the letter and after reading it my pookie is getting all the bad thoughts he's like “kya itna bura hu main ma..? 😞 why my dada don't wanna see my face ever again what did I do wrong now where do I go 🥺”

But he still leaves the kingdom that night cuz dada boleche 🗿

.......

Chompok goes around like some dishahara prani in the forest and comes across a BIG palace in the middle of nowhere (why are all the palaces in some weirdass places??)

And what does he decides?

Ignore the palace and goes by with his day? ❌

Gets inside the palace because curiosity kills the cat? ✅

(And they say kids are not like parents 💀 baap pe gaya hai)

.....

Inside the palace my baby finds NO ONE legit no one 💀 (red alert bro should leave the place...) But then he reaches a room and goes inside just to discover a gorgeous maiden sleeping on the bed :3 (she's my sleeping beauty ok idc about anything else)

And he's like o.O ummmm wtf because obviously situation is so wild why tf is a randomass mohila sleeping in a sunsan palace in the middle of a forest.

So he stands there like 🧍for quite some time not knowing what to do and tries to wake the cutie up. But when he sees that she ain't waking up like that he finally notices the golden and silver sticks on both sides of her head (sonar kathi rupor kathi bro!!!! I've always known them from here)

The golden one on her right side and the silver one on her left side, and mr big brain is like “hmm ykw? Let's see what happens when touch her with both the sticks... and bro was right 💀 she woke up as soon as the golden stick touched her 💀🤌 (he tried the silver one at first too, but didn't work)

.......

As soon as the maiden woke up and saw an handsome young man standing near her head, she's like

Babygirl: who are you? Why are you here? Go away asap or they'll kill you...

Chompok: first of all lady calm down and tell me who are YOU? And who are THEY?

Babygirl: ...

Babygirl: I- I am the princess of this place, one day somewhat a thousand rakkhosh came and killed all my family and people and ate them :'(

Babygirl: they were gonna kill me too but the mom rakkhoshi said she kinda kinda likes me cuz she said I was too pretty to die, so to not kill me... (Well isn't that questionable? 💀)

Babygirl: so now I'm held captive over here and they make me fall asleep using those sticks and go to hunt and eat humans all day

Babygirl: and then they come back at the evening and wake me up and leave again the next morning.... :(

Babygirl: so now get out of here before they come and kill you too :'(

Chompok: gurl where am I supposed to go? I have nowhere to go... :'(

.......

So Chompok rattles out his entire history of being born in a weirdass family to parents dying to being told to get out of the kingdom and everything.

Babygirl: damn your story is honestly really sad... And now I see you really have nowhere to go

Babygirl: but those bitchass rakkhosh are about to arrive so ig you can go hide on the bel gach... They fear that tree for some reasons...

Babygirl: but make me fall asleep using that silver stick before you go

After doing as she asked and making her fall asleep Chompok goes and climbs the tree waiting untill he hears a bunch of rumbling dound coming from nowhere.

.......

[ Now why I haven't revealed pookie rajkonna's name yet? Idk bro the story revealed it quite late.. so ig im also waiting to give that suspense...]

Back to plot

Chompok waits and watch as all the rakkhosh come from every angles filling the palace. Then the maa rakkhosh steps in the front, waking up princess the same way he had done.

Then..

Maa rakkhosh: hmmm why do I smell human.... 🤨 Was anyone here???

Princess: ....I am a human silly (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Maa rakkhoshi: ohh right I forgot whatever 💀

Then normal stuff happens the rakkhosh(s) all whin about wanting to eat the rajkonna but maa rakkhoshi tells them not to and then she gives rajkonna some normal human food (idk where she got that tho) And makes her do some seba 💀 and goes to sleep 🗿 (like gurlie probably stayed awake the entire night just like that)

......

Next day after those bitchass people are gone Chompok climbs down the tree and comes to wake her up and then they do normal human shit like eating and all ig...? (Idk where they are getting the food tho, ig Chompok can cook?)

And then they apparently talk and do more normal human stuff

Idk what these bitches are “talking” about... So I just kinda assumed they are having some Aurora x Philip ahh conversations throughout.... Roaming around the garden and shit who knows...

Then again by the evening he enchants her to sleep and goes to his hiding place on the tree 💀🤌

And the same shit happens like the day before. Rakkhosh gang comes does halla, buri rakkhoshi makes rajkonna do some slavery while the other rakkhosh(s) try to threaten her and eat her, they get scolded and again they fall asleep.

.......

This goes on for some days before Chompok is like

Chompok: girl how long are we gonna do this hide and seek from the rakkhosh gang? Donchu wanna be free???

Rajkonna: I do but it what am I supposed to do

Rajkonna: 😭😭🤌

Chompok: .....

Chompok: do one thing...

Chompok: pamper the old hag today and manipulate her to tell you how the rakkhosh party can die

Rajkonna: ok (⁠.❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

......

So that night when the bitch ass gang returns she does some extra seba and when the time comes fakes some tears (i can fake tears too 🗿)

Rajkonna: what will I do when you die? 🥺

Rajkonna: your kids are gonna kill and eat me 🥺😭💀

Rakkhoshi: ....

Rakkhoshi: lol girl rakkhosh people don't die like that we keep our pran bhomra somewhere seperate

Rajkonna: then where's it?? What if someone finds it???

Rakkhoshi: no one can find it 😌 (lmao wait you fucker just wait)

Rakkhoshi: see the pond right there? Yeah in the bottom if it there's a snail

Rakkhoshi: on that snail there are two beetles on top of it

Rakkhoshi: if someone is able to dive into the pond and bring out those in one breath and then kill those beetles then only we will die

Rakkhoshi: BUT not even a drop of blood should fall on the ground tho or a thousand more of us will get born

Rakkhoshi: but you don't worry no one can do that (overconfident much burima??)

Rajkonna: ok ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

And then they go back to sleep

......

Next day pookie cookie tells everything to Chompok and he's like “ok yeah go get a jar of ashes and I'll do what I need to do”

Bro dives in the pond brings out the beetles and then they hear a bunch of rumbling all over the forest and if those rakkhosh gang are running back to the palace.

Chompok tells her to spread the ashes on the ground so that the blood drops will fall on it and then he cuts the beetles in half bringing an end to all the noices and the rakkhosh gang.

And then overjoyed and glad the rajkonna is like

Rajkonna: MY SAVIOUR MY HERO! YOU SAVED MY LIFE!!! PLEASE MARRY ME LET'S GET MARRIED 🥹🥹

Chompok: umm... 👉👈 ok 😳🗿

(And that's how you get a girl people, now go kill some rakkhosh to impress her 🗿 jk jk lol)

So they do the Gandharva vivah just by doing mala bodol (that's how it was said there and it got me curious to do research and then I got to know about the different types of vivah in hindu scriptures)

.....

So everything is going fine they starts to stay in the palace all happy and newly married pookie cookie meow meow honeymoon phase etc etc (they are my blorbos my otp my lifeline whatever you say I love these two so much 🥹🤌)

But NOOOOOW coming to reveal the rajkonna's name.... She got really LONG hair and that's why they call her Keshoboti (idk if she has a birth name or anything lol)

One day darling Keshoboti was bathing at the ghat and a strand of her hair fell (girlie is experiencing hairfall for the first time smh smh) and she becomes sad... ): (ask us woman I experience hairfall on a regular basis)

So she ties that hair to a lotus and floats it in the river 💀👹

And guess where that bitchass hair floats to? TO THE GHAT WHERE SHOHOSRO BATHS 💀💀💀 (you thought you saw the last of him? well you were so wrong)

....

Shohosro while bathing notices that a randomass lotus floating weirdly and picks it up and then bro is like o.O because the hair attached to it is three hand long, and he's like “WHO IS THE NARI THAT GOT THIS LONG HAIR OMFG!?!?!”

Bro comes back but gradually becomes depressed and kinda obsessed wanting to know who that sundari is. And neglects going to court and eating and everything.

So now that bitchass sasuri maa is worried because her son-in-law is always locked in his room and doing nothing and falana dhimkana.

And she asks him and he is obviously embarrassed and doesn't want to tell his sasuri that he's obsessing over another unknown woman 💀🤌 (you nasty shit, this is the moment I started to hate on Shohosro because wtf bro) but tells her everything when she pressurized him.

So now that extra bitchass favourite rakkhoshi dasi is like moharani ik what's the solution just gimme a bunch of sweets and a boat and I'll to the trick.

Moharani blindly trusts her favourite maid (that's lowkey kinda gay ngl...) gives her the things she asked for.

.....

Now that rakkhoshi maid, takes the boat and does some blah blah montro jap and tells the boat to land at the ghat that sundari kanya baths 💀

And the boat does exactly that.

Once on the ghat, she calls for Keshoboti saying

Rakkhoshi: yo girl you remember me I'm your pishima

Keshoboti: ummmm...

Rakkhoshi: you have grown so much damn last I saw you, you were a baby (this single sentence was the scariest part of the entire tale fuck)

And my lovable dumb blorbo of a girl Keshoboti just believes her thinking maybe she doesn't remember anything cuz yeah she was a baby (why doesn't anyone got trust issues in this story??? 😭😭)

And that S.O.B Chompok also doesn't question anything like bruhhh

......

So now Chompok had a habbit of sleeping in the afternoon (bhat ghum supremacy Chompok knows that 🗿) but ig Keshoboti got insomania atp after deliberately being forced to sleep for so long... So she stays awake.

And on one of those days, the fake pishima is like “babygirl come to the boat with me I got some sweets for you, no need to tell your husband anything we'll be back before he even wakes up”

And that dumbass girl again trusts her and goes with her like bruhhhh 💀💀🤌

Once they are on the boat the fake pishima again does some montro jap and tells the boat to reach Shohosro's ghat.

.....

NOW the fucker is finally like “tf tf tf im being kidnapped omg omg hubby help!!!” and cries but it's too late lol 💀

So once back at Shohosro's place, the moharani is like “tell us who are you we won't harm you we just think you're very pretty so we'll keep you with us now” (MA'AM THAT'S CALLED KIDNAPPING)

But my dumbass of a girl is too busy crying and just rambles something about having a vrat for six months in which she can't speak about herself to anyone. So they just kinda keep her in a room, finding for a brahmin who can say the broto kotha for her 💀💀💀

.....

And back to my blorbo, Chompok is in shambles (chhan se jo tute koi sapna playing in the background). After he woke up and couldn't find Keshoboti anywhere 💀🤌

He's literally crying and searching for her like a madman for months atp. Bro even looks like a rastar pagol with stress and lack of haircut 💀 (again im not shaming anyone for their looks don't come at me)

.....

So in those months everybody tried to get words out of Keshoboti but FAILED because she was adamant on her demand for teh broto kotha.

So now as the six months are coming to an end, Keshoboti is getting worried what to do.

And Chompok in those months had reached that kingdom, looking like a mad dude. He hears some advertisement for a brahmin who can say Keshoboti's brotho kotha and he's like “wait...a min...” 💀

Then he basically sneaks to where Keshoboti is forced to stay and then they have an emotional reunion before he tells her he'd be back the next day with a plan and Keshoboti is again like “ok hubby (⁠.❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)”

.....

So next day the stage is set, someone is finally found who said they are gonna tell the broto kotha, and everyone is waiting with anticipation as Keshoboti comes and takes her sit, telling the dude to start his bok bok.

And then Chompok starts to say and BOIH DOES HE SAYS

Chompok: *ranting out his own life story* am I saying it right princess??

Keshoboti: perfectly correct! please continue

Chompok: *life story life story* is it correct so far princess?? (That's some odd flirting bro but im impressed)

Keshoboti: yes yes absolutely please continue

Shohosro: ....wait... excuse moi... OMFG THAT'S MY FOOKING BROTHA WTF WTF WTF

everyone else most probably: 🧍

.....

So yeah Shohosro finally realises that the brahmin in disguise is his chhoto bhai and gets too much ashamed because he had fucking held his brother's wife hostage for so long 💀💀 (good for you bitch cuz I already hate you)

Then everyone ask Chompok why he randomly disappeared from the kingdom and Chompok rats out the truth that moharani's girltoy (opposite of boytoy shut up) is a rakkhoshi.

And then rakkhoshi is like “ughh damn I'm exposed but whatever im gonna kill and eat everyone now” and starts to run towards Chompok

Then our local rakkhosh killer Shohosro pulls out his sword (no you dirty minded people not that go fuck) and SLAYYYYS the rakkhoshi.

And then everyone lives happily ever after ig...

Unless this bitches get their asses in trouble again 💀🗿🤌

.......

So... That's it. Amar kotha ti furalo note gach ti muralo...

Lemme know how you liked my all time favorite story hehe...

This story is really dear to me and I really really enjoyed doing this commentary explanation of the story too! :D

Also I think I should be banned from ever using the terms bitchass, randomass and weirdass lol...

#shaku tells stories #thakumar jhuli #shohosrodol o chompokdol #bengali stories #bengali literature #shaku's commentary #bengali girl #banglablr #desiblr #rupkothar golpo #shakchunni core #shaku answers #desi tumblr

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inawickedlittletown · 9 hours ago

Text

Meet Cute - Bucktommy one-shot

Summary: Buck and Tommy get asked to explain how they met when they run into the person behind the instagram, meet cutes LA. (Inspired by meetcutesnyc) Words: 1.3k Read on Ao3

They were just walking down the street, Buck a little more preoccupied with figuring out if they were headed in the right direction to where they were supposed to be meeting up with Maddie and Chim. He should have listened to Tommy and agreed on taking an Uber. Parking had been a bit of a nightmare, but it was nice enough out that he didn’t mind the walk, assuming they found the restaurant soon.

So, he didn’t even notice the guy with the camera. Then again, in LA there were always guys — and girls — with cameras. He’d responded to enough calls to do with influencers doing something stupid for clout.

It was Tommy that stopped first when the guy with the camera called out to them. “Hey, excuse me.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asked. “Can we help you?”

Buck had to backtrack a couple of paces, but he fitted his shoulder against Tommy’s and looked at the guy curiously.

“You guys are a couple right?”

Buck felt Tommy stiffen a little. He reached and grabbed for his hand, gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah,” he said.

The guy was young, probably early twenties. His hair was a little floppy on his forehead and his glasses hid brown eyes. Despite having approached them of his own volition, he looked a little nervous. It made Buck relax a little.

“I’m Max. I uh, there’s this thing I do. Meet Cutes LA. You probably haven’t seen it but I post primarily on insta, but I’m on TikTok as well. I film real couples out in the wild and ask them to tell me how they met and got together. Would you guys be willing to tell me your story?”

Buck shared a glance with Tommy and shrugged.

“I guess that’s alright,” Tommy said.

Max brightened. “Cool. Alright. I like to get permission first, but I want it to look like I just approached you randomly, it’s my whole aesthetic. So if you could go back a few feet and start walking past me and then stop when I call you over?”

“Is this going to take long?” Buck asked. “We have somewhere to be—”

“It won’t. Ten minutes tops. I promise.”

Tommy nudged him. “Come on, Evan, don’t you like being the center of attention.”

“Shut up,” Buck said. “You realize that no one’s going to believe how we met.”

So they walked a bit back and then when Max had his camera up and had given them a thumbs up, they started walking forward again just like they had before.

“Excuse me! I have a question for you.”

“Alright,” Tommy said.

“How did you two meet?” Max asked.

Buck shared a look with Tommy.

“We could have met a good six or seven times before we actually met. Actually, we share an ex. He took my spot at the firestation he still works at. We have so many mutual friends. But we still met in an unbelievable way. You tell it, Evan,” Tommy said.

“He’s a firefighter pilot,” Buck offered. “Best pilot in the LAFD.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I’m also a firefighter,” Buck continued, “My Captain and his wife went on a cruise and there was a hurricane and pirates. Anyway, to keep things uncomplicated, we had to go rescue them and one of my coworkers who used to work with Tommy, called Tommy to fly us out into the hurricane.”

“Just like that,” Max said. “You just answered that call and said sure.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I owed Howie, but it was also the right thing to do. I mean, that’s kind of the job. Helping people.”

“Anyway, we flew out and he landed the helicopter on a capsized cruise ship. I thought he was so cool.”

Tommy smiled at him. “I thought he was really cute…I also thought he was straight.”

“I thought I was straight too,” Buck admitted. “Didn’t understand why I wanted to see him again after that night.”

From behind the camera, Max’s eyebrows had shot up, it was clear that he hadn’t expected the story they were telling. No one ever really did.

“So how did you get together?”

“He kissed me,” Buck said and he would never forget that kiss, surprising as it had been.

That kiss had opened his eyes, it had changed everything for him. Looking at Tommy, he could tell that Tommy was remembering too. Tommy had taken a huge risk.

“After the rescue?” Max asked.

“A few weeks later. Evan has a bit of a possessive edge to him.”

Buck glared at him. “I do not. I was misguided and upset because you were giving Eddie all of your attention.”

“Who’s Eddie?”

“My best friend who was monopolizing all of his time.”

“So you maimed him,” Tommy said.

Max’s eyes widened and he mouthed, ‘maimed’.

“His ankle was fine two days later,” Buck countered. “I, uh, went to play basketball with them and—”

“And he hates basketball,” Tommy said. “Anyway, I went over to clear the air and I just took a chance. I thought he was mad I was taking up Eddie’s time. I didn’t realize it was my attention that he wanted all along.”

“And I discovered that I’ve been a chaotic bisexual this whole time,” Buck said. “I had no idea why I was acting so insane and then he kissed me and it all made sense.”

They shared another smile and Buck was tempted to lean over and kiss him, didn’t know if Tommy would appreciate that especially since they were being filmed and it would be posted somewhere for people to see it.

“Wow. So, how long ago was that?” Max asked.

“A little over two years,” Buck said.

“So, you’ve been together ever since?”

Buck shook his head. He didn’t like thinking about that period of time. The months of heartbreak and longing. The amount of baking he’d accomplished and how even that had stopped working after a while.

“There was a small blip of time, but we worked it out. Stronger than ever,” Tommy said and then he pulled away from Buck a little. “So strong that, there’s actually a question I’ve been wanting to ask. Now seems as good as any time.”

Buck froze. Tommy pulled his hand away and Buck watched Tommy kneel. Max let out an excited squeal and he was still filming as Tommy took a little box out of his pocket. Buck only had eyes for him, for his big hands that fumbled the box nervously.

“Evan Buckley, I love you more than I could ever hope to express. I never once thought that I could find the person I’d want forever with, but I met you probably at the exact time that it was meant to happen, at a time when we were both ready for each other. And now, I think we’re ready for a different step. Do you want to take that step with me? Would you marry me?”

Buck nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. Yes, of course.”

A ring was slipped onto his finger and then Tommy’s lips were on his and several people were cheering, Max perhaps louder than anyone else.

A few days later, Buck got a DM from @meetcutesla

Meetcutesla: Hey. It’s Max. I’m going to be posting your meet cute story tomorrow. I just wanted to double check that you’re okay with me including the proposal.

Buck touched the ring on his finger. It still felt, if he was being honest, foreign on his finger. But he loved it.

Buckley118: Still good with that. Takes some of the pressure off of telling everyone ourselves.

Meetcutesla: lmao. You guys are the best, I better get an invite to that wedding.

What Buck was not expecting was for the video to blow up, not that he or Tommy really cared or minded. Buck for his part liked watching it, seeing their love displayed for the world.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #kinley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #fluff #911 abc #911 fic #meet cute

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maglors-grief · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/teleit/764731859378847744?source=share

Team radioactive wastes' coping skills will never not amaze me lmaoo

Anon this is why I never venture into the hotd tags because I know if I come across posts like this then I won't be able to stop myself from responding 😭 I truly meant for this post to be short but it got pretty long so apologies for that lol. Also you sent me this ask like a month ago so sorry for taking forever to respond.

First of all, them saying "team black stans is being almost hysterical, trying to convince us that Saint Rhaenyra would never dare to kill Alicent's children" is immediately disproven by this quote in the book:

"Her first act as queen was to declare Ser Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent traitors and rebels. "As for my half-brothers and my sweet sister, Helaena," she announced, "they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart, for they are my own blood, and no man or woman is as accursed as the kinslayer"."

I have no idea where team green stans get the idea Rhaenyra is the bloodthirsty monster of the story because the paragraph right after that one is Aegon II saying:

"I want them attainted, I want them arrested, and I want them dead".

He said this at the start of the war, before there were deaths on either side, and yet he was still ready to kill his sister and her family. Aegon II then went on to throw a party for Aemond when Lucerys was murdered. But some people still think Rhaenyra was the monster.

Rhaenyra was willing to accept her siblings if they joined her side because she knew they had been manipulated by Alicent and Otto all their lives. While Aegon immediately wanted every single one of them dead and had to be talked down from it.

Of course I know there will be some team green stans that will say that Rhaenyra was bluffing and she would have murdered them anyways but she gave mercy to Alicent of all people simply because she was her father's wife even after declaring her a traitor and a rebel. And this was after Rhaenyra already lost multiple children because of the war and was going slightly mad from grief. Rhaenyra still didn't have Alicent killed even after Alicent mocked and belittled the deaths of Rhaenyra's sons and acted like the deaths of Rhaenyra's son mattered little compared to Alicent's own children by saying "bastard blood shed at war".

Let not have it forgotten that Rhaenyra herself did not commit any kinslaying during the war but Aegon II and Aemond did. Rhaenyra tried having mercy on her enemies who never once tried showing her and her family any.

It is insane to me how much team green stans will focus on Rhaenyra possibly killing her siblings but yet they fail to blame Alicent and Otto for making Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron targets in the first place with all their scheming. Alicent and Otto apparently did what they did because they feared Alicent's children would be killed by Rhaenyra, so they started a deadly war that ended up killing them all anyways, it makes no sense.

I dislike that Rhaenyra gets all the blame in the tense relationship between her and her siblings. Do team green stans think Rhaenyra just woke up one day and decided to not get along with her siblings? Do they really not think that Alicent was not heavily involved in them not liking each other?

Her siblings were made to be a threat against her since day 1. Rhaenyra was a 9 year old child who just lost her mother but yet she still accepted Alicent as her stepmother when she easily could have thrown a fit over her father marrying again.

"Princess Rhaenyra poured for her stepmother at the feast, and Queen Alicent kissed her and named her "daughter". The princess was amongst the women who disrobed the king and delivered him to the bedchamber of his bride"

That was not someone who wanted to dislike her stepmother and future siblings. Alicent turned against 10 year old Rhaenyra as soon as she gave Viserys sons. Alicent was the one turned the court into two fractions.

Op said that us team black stans think: "that Otto and Alicent are the second and third coming of Satan, and they are must be blame for everything"

By the time the book mentions that 3 of her siblings have been born in the book we have seen nothing negative from Rhaenyra about Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. But we do see multiple attempts from Alicent and Otto to discredit her and push for Aegon to be made successor:

"The amity between Her Grace and her stepdaughter had proved short-lived, for both Rhaenyra and Alicent aspired to be the first lady of the realm... and though the queen had given the king not one but two male heirs, Viserys had done nothing to change the order of succession"

"Those who asked, "What of the ruling of the Great Council of 101?" found their words falling on deaf ears. The matter had been decided, so far as King Viserys was concerned"

"Still, questions persisted, not the least from Queen Alicent herself. Loudest amongst her supporters was her father, Ser Otto Hightower"

"Even after Ser Otto had returned to Oldtown, a "queen's party" still existed at court; a group of powerful lords friendly to Queen Alicent and supportive of the rights of her sons"

They were the ones that made her siblings be her enemies by trying to rob her of her claim to the throne to give to her brother. What was young Rhaenyra supposed to do in this situation?

Also during this time is when we see Alicent say: "'Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?' Queen Alicent asked one day at court" and I am convinced she did not say this in court, in front of other people, out of genuine concern for 13 year old Rhaenyra but as a way to slyly question the heir's virtue for the first time, something they loved using against her later on.

So yes I do completely believe that Alicent and Otto are to blame for everything. Between the years of 107 AC - 110 AC we don't see much of Rhaenyra at all but we do see Alicent and Otto actively working against her and splitting the court apart. And this is just the very beginning of their actions against Rhaenyra. In an effort to keep this post from getting insanely long, I won't even be mentioning everything they did over the next couple decades, such as being the ones who committed treason and started the Dance while Rhaenyra was minding her own business on Dragonstone.

And if we're talking about House of the Dragon, the idea that Rhaenyra would kill her siblings came from Otto Hightower. Otto was removed from his position as Hand of the King because of Rhaenyra and Alicent was trying to defend her and so I believe that Otto made up that Rhaenyra would harm Alicent's children in the future because he wanted to keep control over Alicent. He would not be there anymore to ensure they remained divided so he came up with some egregious lie to make sure Alicent would remain loyal to him and the future plan of usurping Rhaenyra.

We see no such indication from Rhaenyra herself in season 1 that she means her siblings any harm. Even in season 2 she's still incredibly reluctant to hurt that side of her family (except for Aemond because he killed her son) and was upset over the death of Jaehaerys because she didn't want to hurt Helaena.

Teenage Aegon didn't seem to feel threatened by Rhaenyra until Alicent made him feel threatened by her.

As you all know, Rhaenyra was just so scary and threatening during her time living in the Red Keep that she was somehow the one getting mistreated and bullied by Alicent to the extent she had to move to Dragonstone to get away from it 🤔 but yeah Rhaenyra was the threat and meant her siblings harm...

Otto was scheming to get a half Hightower/Targaryen on the throne before Rhaenyra was even made heir in the show. Rhaenyra got in the way by being made heir and so Otto began plotting to have the throne usurped. Alicent participated in this and helped. She raised her children to hate Rhaenyra. Alicent knew what her father had planned and did nothing to stop it. So yeah once again Alicent and Otto are the bad guys and I truly do not understand the mental gymnastics that team green stans do to defend them.

I was just going to ignore the rest of their post and only focus on the beginning of it because I didn't want this post getting any longer but I couldn't resist including some honorable mentions. From here on out, I'm not using the book as a reference because the original post seems to be mostly based on House of the Dragon and the person even discredits using the book as proof lol.

Op says: "As proof, you are given quotes from a book that these fans have hardly read in its entirety, their own opinion, which, of course, is an indisputable fact". - I have actually read the book in its entirety and I don't even know what to say here because yeah the proof is actually in the book and it's in the show that Alicent, Otto, and the rest of the Greens are to blame for everything. My opinion is always based on what I have seen in the book and the show. Meanwhile I believe that most team green stans have hardly even read one single page of Fire & Blood and their "proof" is usually just based on whatever their feelings are.

"Stories like Dance of the Dragons require you to dive into the personalities of both teams so you can understand the tragedy of the situation" - Op says this but then does nothing but bash all of the Blacks. They seemingly refuse to see their point of view, all while focusing on the Greens and their feelings. Doesn't seem like they have dived into the personalities of both teams because from everything they say the Blacks are all monsters while anything the Greens did can be excused. It's the hypocrisy for me because they're mirroring the exact behavior they just criticized others for.

"Your father doesn't care about you, and you don't understand why. Did you do something wrong? Why does your father love your half-sister and her children, but not you and your siblings? Why doesn't he protect you from your nephews' bullying?" - Alicent didn't protect her son from the bullying either and she was actually aware of it whereas Viserys didn't seem to be. She pretty much told Aemond that he needed to not make a fuss about it because their side of the family needed to appear united. Also why only mention Jace and Luke bullying Aemond and not the fact that Aegon was the ringleader of it all?? Jace and Luke were much younger than both Aegon and Aemond and they only wanted to impress Aegon so I think it's ridiculous that they tend to get all the blame for it while team green stans usually make up excuses for Aegon's treatment of Aemond.

"Your half-sister Rhaenyra HATES you. She shows no shame in showing her disdain, barely tolerates your existence, and never punishes her children for bullying you. She won't talk to you, won't play with you, and even seems to hate your name." In the show we don't see Rhaenyra hating her siblings. Where is her disdain? Where does she barely tolerate their existence? Where are we shown that Rhaenyra is aware her sons are bullying Aemond? Due to the large time jumps, we can't say for certainty if Rhaenyra ever did interact with her siblings or not in season 1. We only get to see one episode of Rhaenyra with her sons living in the Red Keep and it doesn't provide enough information for any of us to be making statements about her relationships with others. Also Rhaenyra is a grown woman with her own children and responsibilities to worry about, I can't blame her for not playing with her siblings.

"Your father yells at Aegon because Aemond said that Aegon is the one who lied about your nephews being legitimate Velaryons." - Yeah Viserys yelled at him but Alicent straight up slapped him right before that for not keeping an eye on Aemond even though that should be her responsibility as their mother. Aegon was forced to take the blame and get yelled at because he didn't want to blame Alicent. Maybe Alicent shouldn't have been telling dangerous gossip to her kids if she didn't want them possibly getting in trouble for it.

"Laenor dies, and you hear that Rhaenyra has married Daemon, ignoring the mourning period. You remember this man - he laughed at Laena's funeral" - Op goes on to be sympathetic towards Vaemond, neglecting to mention how Vaemond was using his eulogy for his niece's funeral to take shots at Rhaenyra and her sons. Daemon, who probably laughed in disbelief over Vaemond's audacity, is the bad guy but not Vaemond?

#I definitely wrote way too much but I wanted to get my point across lol #team black #hotd #hotd spoilers #rhaenyra targaryen #anti team green #house targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti otto hightower #pro team black #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd season 2 #pro house targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon

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xomakara · 3 days ago

Text

When I Fall [Part 1]

SUMMARY | You're trapped in a loveless and childless marriage to Taeho, a divorced older man that is a friend of your father's. After fifteen years of marriage and no children of your own, Taeho starts to see other women since you're past your prime and can't give him heirs. One night, tired of your husband and his emotional abuse, you go out with some friends, get shit-faced drunk, and meet Jongho, a man fifteen years younger than you, that will change your life forever.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, angst, drama

CONTENT/WARNINGS | age-gap, step-cest, cheating, mentions of control and emotional abuse, mentions of drinking, profanity/strong language, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, scandals

LENGTH | 11,110 words

TAGLIST | @desirehorizon @sweetinsaniiity

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @dove-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE | This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but thanks @kwanisms for beta-reading and suggesting to make it a two shot instead. The ending was originally too rushed so having it be a 2-parter will let me be able to flesh the plot for the second half to be just as dramatic and scandalous as this part so I hope you come to read it! Also thank you @kpop---scenarios for beta-reading the original fic and also giving me some suggestions to add as well! Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for the lovely banner! I really appreciate all you folks for helping me with the visual aspect and adding ideas~

The wine glass you held shook in your hand, your drink almost spilling into your lap. You couldn't count how many glasses you’d had tonight. Three? Maybe four? You let out a sigh. It didn't matter anyway. You just wanted to feel nothing. You didn't want to feel Taeho's disdain or the emptiness of a childless, laughterless house.

“Y/N, you okay?” Soojin asked, concerned.

You forced a smile and raised your glass. “Just having fun.” The lie tasted bitter, but you washed it down with more wine.

“You need this,” Jiwoo added. “You’ve been cooped up for ages.”

Ages. Fifteen long years.

Fifteen years of biting your tongue, of forced smiles, and enduring Taeho's cold indifference had chipped away at pieces of yourself you didn't know you could lose. It wasn't always like this at the beginning. Years ago, your family arranged a union between you and Taeho so he could enter the upper echelon of Seoul society. Taeho and his company helped fund your father's political campaign as the mayor. In turn, your father provided Taeho access into a more prestigious social circle. Taeho divorced his wife of nine years at the time, claiming that they fell out of love. But you knew he divorced her since she didn't come from a prominent family such as yours.

You never saw his ex-wife around much after the divorce. You knew he had a son but you only met him once when he was about nine or ten, months after your marriage to Taeho was official. You never saw him again since Taeho sent him abroad for boarding school.

When no children had appeared after five years of trying, Taeho blamed it on you. You tried, oh, you had tried for years. Doctors didn't know why it didn't work and neither did you. You took pills, ate a vegetarian diet, and all sorts of treatments, but Taeho berated you that nothing worked and blamed you for being "barren". He didn't want to divorce you, no you were far too valuable socially, and still could provide him with the perfect home. So while you remained, trapped, he'd fuck other women. You stopped caring, even though the emptiness threatened to consume you whole.

You were exhausted. So exhausted.

“Another round,” you called out, the waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowded bar. The dim lights, the scent of alcohol and perfume, and the sight of bodies pressed together on the dance floor filled you with envy. You longed for their freedom, their carelessness.

Laughter. Yours? Someone else’s? You couldn't care less as you lost yourself in the music, your body moving freely for the first time in years. And then you saw him, taller than you by a few inches, broad-shouldered, with a grin that made your heart skip. He exuded confidence, and his eyes met yours as if he'd been searching for you all night.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and husky. He was close enough that you could smell the faint hint of cologne mingling with his sweat. Jongho, he introduced himself. All you could focus on was the way his gaze lingered, the way it made heat crawl up your neck.

“Careful,” Soojin whispered in your ear with a teasing tone. “He looks like trouble.”

Good, you thought, your fingers curling around Jongho’s as he pulled you closer. Trouble sounded better than the quiet despair waiting for you at home.

The rest of the night was a blur of touch and sound, of hands roaming and lips brushing against each others. You didn’t think about Taeho. Didn’t think about the consequences. There was only this moment, this man who made you feel wanted in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Your head throbbed, the taste of last night’s indulgences sour on your tongue. And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jongho.

You panicked and then everything seem to come back to you. Memories of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he’d whispered promises you knew he couldn’t keep. Memories of kissing him nonstop, bouncing on his thick, hardㅡ

You tried to get out of the bedsheets that you were tangled in but his arm tightened around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The guilt was already settling in, heavy and suffocating. What have you done?

Jongho propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression was soft, almost tender, but there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Stay,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just a little longer.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I can’t.”

The weight of what you’d done pressed down on you, the guilt sharp and unrelenting. You needed to go home, to face whatever was waiting for you there.

Jongho’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he let it drop, his expression shifting into something more neutral.

“Alright,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t press, didn’t try to convince you to stay, and for that, you were grateful. "Can I at least get your number?"

You exchanged phone numbers without hesitation, a tiny voice inside whispering that it was wrong. Despite being married, you'd given your number to a stranger, pretending it was simply to stay in touch. But his smile as he thanked you and left his contact information was so handsome...

Scrambling out of bed, you searched for your scattered clothes. Jongho's silent gaze followed you, heavy with unspoken words. Fully dressed, you hesitated at the door, your hand on the knob. This had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you refused to let it define you.

“Take care of yourself,” Jongho said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost kind, but there was a distance in his tone that hadn’t been there last night.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and opened the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the early morning light filtering through the windows at the far end. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, and took a deep breath.

The walk home was a blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. What would Taeho say? Would he even notice you’d been gone? The questions gnawed at you, but there were no answers, only the cold reality of what lay ahead.

As you approached your house, the familiar facade loomed like a silent judge. You paused at the gate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. Time to face the consequences of your actions, whatever they might be.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the gate and walked inside, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you.

The days after that night with Jongho passed in a haze. Your husband, Taeho, was, as usual, distant and dismissive, barely acknowledging your presence except to criticize or complain. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, but so did something else—something darker, hungrier, more unsettling. You tried to push it away, bury it under the monotony of your daily routine, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of your mind.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it casually, expecting another mundane notification. But what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. It was a photo from that handsome man.

Jongho and a photo of his hard cock.

Your eyes widened, and your heart began to race. The image was unmistakable: thick, veined, and erect, resting against a backdrop of plain white sheets. Below it, a message: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to meet again?”

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly. Part of you wanted to delete the message instantly, to pretend it never happened. But another part of you—a part that had been dormant for so long—stirred awake. The memory of that night flooded back: his hands on your skin, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

Before you could stop yourself, you typed a reply: “Why are you doing this?”

The response came almost immediately: “Because I want you. And I think you want me too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He wasn’t wrong. The truth clawed at you, undeniable. You wanted him. Craved him. Even now, just the thought of him sent a flicker of heat through your core.

“This is dangerous,” you replied, your fingers moving almost of their own accord.

“So is staying in a marriage that makes you miserable,” he shot back.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t saying anything you hadn’t already thought, but hearing it laid bare like that—it was jarring. You felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a strange relief in it, too. Someone else saw it. Someone else knew.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

“You. Just you,” he answered simply. “Meet me tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.”

Your mind raced. This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the idea of seeing him again—of feeling that fire once more—was intoxicating. You glanced toward the living room, where Taeho sat immersed in his work, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

“Where?” you typed before you could talk yourself out of it.

He sent an address, followed by: “Wear something sexy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You moved through the motions of dinner and conversation with Taeho, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Later, as you dressed in the dim light of your bedroom, your hands shook as you fastened the clasp of your bra. You chose a simple black dress, one that hugged your curves in all the right places—not too revealing, but enough to make you feel confident. When you added a touch of perfume, your reflection in the mirror looked almost like a stranger.

This is really happening, you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.

You slipped out of the house quietly, leaving Taeho engrossed in his nightly routine. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked to the address Jongho had given you. It was a sleek, modern building in a trendy part of town, far removed from the quiet streets you called home.

When you arrived, Jongho was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You came,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“I shouldn’t have,” you replied, though the way your body reacted to him—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled—said otherwise.

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “But you did,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours. “And I’m glad.”

You hesitated, torn between guilt and desire. But when his fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you gently toward the door, you didn’t resist. Inside, the apartment was stylish and minimalist, lit by soft, ambient lighting. He led you to the couch, his touch firm but tender.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes lingering on you as you sat down. “Better than I remembered.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It was deep, hungry, electric. Every nerve in your body came alive, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

His hands wandered, exploring your body with a confidence that left you weak. He pulled away just long enough to murmur, “Let me see you,” before slowly unzipping your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, and his fingers traced the curve of your collarbone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw with desire.

"Wait..." you pushed away from him slightly. "How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-four. Why do you ask?" Jongho answered in a rasp, eyes wandering. "Does that... bother you? That I'm much younger?"

You pursed your lips. You hadn't expected him to be that young. It should've bothered you—after all, Taeho was twenty years older than you were—but there was something alluring about the youthful vigor Jongho possessed.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm fifteen years older than you? You don't want to be with someone more... your age?" you asked cautiously.

"I don't care about our age differences," Jongho shrugged, lifting his index finger and running it down the edge of your jaw.

"It's different though—"

"How? You told me that you're married to someone twenty years older than yourself and he sees other women besides. Tell me how is that any different," he cuts you off with a frown.

He's right. Your husband had affairs left and right while you were home alone, stuck raising yourself. And each time you tried to end things, Taeho would guilt-trip you and say how your father would be disappointed since his political and social ties benefited both yours and Taeho's families. And after so many years, married to your father's friend, you were resigned to living with your unfaithful spouse and being a trophy wife for his events and parties.

Tears fill your eyes at the realization and you suddenly want to feel something other than loneliness.

Jongho tilts his head and reaches out to run his fingertips along the creases of your jaw. He has a curious expression. "What if I can help you forget him for a few hours...?" Jongho husked. "Help take your mind off your troubles."

"Just for a few hours?" you echo, your gaze darkening as the question dances on the edge of your lips. "What if I wanted more...?"

"All you have to do is say the word," he promises.

His smile grows, and the way its slow curve travels across his face sends shivers down your spine. He trails a hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. You feel the warmth radiating from his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you dizzy.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours “Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your decisions pressing down on you. But then, the memory of Taeho’s cold indifference floods your mind, and something inside you snaps. The guilt, the shame, the years of loneliness—they all dissolve under Jongho’s gaze.

“I want more,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire.

Jongho doesn’t need any further encouragement. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and sure around you. You let out a startled laugh, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he carries you towards his bedroom. The world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way his muscles flex beneath his thin shirt and the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He kicks the door open with his foot and sets you down gently on the edge of his bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You glance around nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability is almost overwhelming.

But Jongho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your fears. He kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and you can see the hunger burning within them.

“Relax,” he says softly, his voice like velvet. “Let me take care of you.”

His hands move higher, pushing your dress up around your hips. You bite your lip, feeling exposed and yet incredibly alive. His touch is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you wild. When his fingers finally brush against the lace of your panties, you can’t help but moan.

“So sensitive,” he teases, his breath hot against your skin. “I wonder how much more I can make you squirm.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The sensation is electric, and you involuntarily arch your back, craving more. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he continues to trail kisses along your legs.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is this where you want me?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation is driving you mad, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Satisfied with your response, Jongho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

The cool air hits your core, making you shiver, but his mouth quickly replaces it, warm and insistent against your most sensitive area. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh god,” you moan, your hips bucking against him. “Don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes you deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of you with expert precision. You’re lost in the sensations, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Jongho pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration. He stands up, towering over you, and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. When the shirt falls to the floor, revealing his toned chest, you can’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his muscles with your fingertips.

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leans down to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, and you eagerly deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a heated embrace.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, desperate for more. Jongho smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Lie back,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle.

You comply immediately, lying back against the pillows as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, completely vulnerable and utterly irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands running up your sides, tracing the curves of your body. “I could spend hours worshipping you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a surge of confidence despite your nervousness. Jongho notices your reaction and smiles, leaning down to capture your lips once more. This kiss is softer, more tender, and it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

As the kiss deepens, his hands continue their exploration, mapping out every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His fingers glide over your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp into the kiss, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

“Please,” you beg, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. “I need you… now.”

Jongho groans, his self-control slipping as he positions himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer. “Yes. Please, Jongho… don’t make me wait any longer.”

With a final, lingering kiss, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your body instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. He starts to move, slow and steady at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But soon, the pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Each one drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

“You feel incredible,” Jongho growls, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you. “So tight… so perfect.”

You can barely think straight, your entire being focused on the sensations coursing through your body. Every nerve feels alight, every movement bringing you closer to the brink. When his fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub, it’s all too much.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiate out from your core. Jongho follows close behind, burying his face in your neck as he spills himself inside you, his moans muffled against your skin.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of two people who have given themselves completely to each other. Then, slowly, Jongho pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed.

You lie there, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passion. But even as you try to catch your breath, a thought lingers in the back of your mind: What happens next?

Jongho seems to sense your uncertainty. He turns to face you, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your expression.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

You hesitate, unsure if you should voice your concerns. But the warmth in his eyes encourages you to be honest.

“This… us. What does it mean?” you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Jongho’s gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It means whatever you want it to,” he replies, his tone reassuring. “We can take this as slow or as fast as you need. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

You feel a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. For the first time in years, you feel truly seen and valued.

But before you can formulate a response, Jongho’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. The sound startles you both, and he reluctantly lets go of you to check the message.

His expression changes as he reads it, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry,” he says apologetically, “but I need to take this. It’s important.”

You nod, though you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. As Jongho steps out of the room to answer the call, you’re left alone with your thoughts, wondering if this newfound happiness is too good to last.

"We have that charity gala tonight and it is imperative that you and I are in attendance," Taeho barks at you as he stomps around the living room, pulling items off the end tables and collecting the empty glasses on the coffee table. "We made the commitment months ago and our attendance is required. This is not an optional event."

"I know Taeho," you sipped your coffee and leaned back against the sofa. "Your suit for the gala is hanging in your room and your shoes have been polished. All that's left for you to do is to style your hair and wear the watch and cufflinks that I got you."

"And did you purchase a dress?" Taeho peered at you, placing the empty glasses on the table by the large armchair in front of the fire. "An appropriate one for your status?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "I have it all under control," you sighed, "like I always do."

"What a dutiful wife you are," Taeho scoffed sarcastically, giving a half-assed chuckle, before turning serious. "Your father is coming over today to discuss a campaign that has started up with the opposing party. Make sure lunch is at its usual time and the maid has set the dining room accordingly," he huffed, "I don't need your father to chastise me for having a messy home."

"Yes Taeho," you replied, finishing your mug and moving into the kitchen.

When the doorbell rang, you heard Taeho shout for you and you went to open the door for your father. "Hi, daddy," you smiled warmly and leaned in for a hug.

"My little girl," your father chuckled warmly. "You look tired," he whispered to you as the maid took his coat and hat. "A woman of your caliber should always take care of themselves. If you ever need some money for a spa day, let me know," your father sighed softly. "I can only imagine the burdens of maintaining this house."

"Thank you, but that is what I have the maids for," you muttered politely. "Besides, you're busy and need to be taken care of too, daddy."

"Your mother makes sure I have all my meals prepared for me at the right times," he grinned at you and looked past you as Taeho approached. "Ah, Taeho, you look... aged, no offence."

"You too, my friend," Taeho laughed and the men hugged, clapping each other on the back. "I do hope the mayor's job has treated you well over the years."

"It has! Very busy but fulfilling," your father chuckled.

"Good, that's good!" Taeho nodded and moved towards the door to the kitchen. "Well, why don't we discuss some things over lunch hm? Shall we?"

Your father looked at you with concern etched in his wrinkles and nodded slowly. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?" he inquired. "I would love to catch up with my daughter and see what she's been up to."

"Not today, daddy," you shook your head. "I have a lot to prepare for the gala. You two enjoy your meal and I will see you later, alright?"

"Fine," he muttered and kissed the top of your head before following Taeho towards the dining room. "I'll see you later this evening, sweetheart. We will chat more then."

Once Taeho and your father disappeared into the other room, you let out a loud sigh, massaged your temple and made your way towards your bedroom to get ready for the night's charity gala.

Hours later, you stood in front of the mirror adjusting the straps of your emerald green, sparkling evening dress. It clung to your body in all the right places and revealed just enough skin that would turn a man's gaze your way. Taeho hated when you drew too much attention, but tonight, you needed the escape.

"A little form fitting for my taste," Taeho grunted as he fumbled with the buttons of his cufflinks. "But it will do. Come and assist me with the cufflinks."

You stepped into the bedroom and strode over to him. You slipped the first cufflink in and stared at him. "Did you have a nice afternoon with daddy?" you inquired softly, turning his hand gently and securing the second cufflink in place.

"Yes, it was very informative," Taeho grunted. "Nothing to worry your pretty, little head over," Taeho muttered. "Now let us go, I don't want us to be late."

The venue was a sprawling ballroom filled with the city’s elite. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume. You clung to Taeho’s arm as he schmoozed with donors, forcing yourself to smile and nod at the right moments. His grip on your elbow was firm, almost possessive, and you felt the familiar weight of suffocation pressing down on you.

And then you saw him.

Jongho.

He stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis. His eyes met yours, and you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him.

Taeho didn’t seem to notice your reaction. He steered you towards the bar where Jongho was, his voice booming with false cheer.

“Ah, there he is! My son,” he said, pulling you closer as if to emphasize the word my. “Jongho, come meet my wife.”

Son.

The word echoed in your head like a cruel joke. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to stay upright. Jongho approached slowly, his expression unreadable. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand as he extended it to greet you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, though his voice held a subtle edge. His fingers brushed against yours, and even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. You forced yourself to look away, afraid that one more second of eye contact would betray everything.

“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Taeho, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing between you and Jongho, clapped his son on the back.

“Jongho’s been living abroad for the past few years,” Taeho explained, his tone dripping with pride. “He’s finally decided to come home and take over the family business. Isn’t that right, son?”

Jongho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, Father. It’s time I took on more responsibility.”

You felt like you were drowning. The man who had held you in his arms just days ago, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into your ear, was now standing in front of you as your stepson. The irony was almost too much to bear.

The rest of the introductions passed in a haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the heat radiating from Jongho’s body, the way his gaze lingered on you whenever Taeho wasn’t looking. When Taeho excused himself to speak with another donor, you found yourself alone with Jongho.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken questions and desires. Finally, Jongho broke it, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk.”

You glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching. “Not here,” you whispered. “It’s too risky.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening again. “Then when? Where?”

You hesitated, torn between fear and longing. “I… I don’t know.”

Jongho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t shut me out,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Not after what we shared.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to reach out to him, to feel his arms around you once more, but the reality of your situation kept you rooted in place. “Jongho, this… this changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted, his voice firm. “We can figure this out. Together.”

Before you could respond, Taeho reappeared, his loud voice cutting through the tension. “There you two are! Come, let’s get a photo for the press.”

You forced a smile, allowing Taeho to position you between him and Jongho. As the camera flashed, you felt Jongho’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to reignite the fire burning within you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jongho whenever you could. Each time, he seemed to be watching you too, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race. The forbidden nature of your attraction only made it more irresistible, and you knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Finally, as the guests began to leave, you spotted Jongho slipping out onto the balcony. Your pulse quickened. Without thinking, you followed him, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest.

He turned as you approached, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “I was hoping you’d come,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You stepped closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jongho, we can’t… this isn’t…”

He cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift movement. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. How could you deny it when every fiber of your being was screaming for him? Without thinking, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate. The kiss was electric, sending sparks shooting through every nerve in your body. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His grip on you tightened, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you realized the gravity of what you’d just done.

“This… this can’t happen,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

Jongho’s eyes burned with determination. “It already has,” he replied, his voice fierce. “And it will again.”

The car ride home was stifling. The silence between you and Taeho was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the evening pressing down on your chest. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but your mind was elsewhere—on Jongho, on that kiss, on the way his hands had felt against your skin.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Jongho will be moving in with us,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach dropped.

“What?” you managed to choke out, tearing your gaze from the window to look at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“He needs a place to stay while he gets settled,” Taeho continued, as if this were some mundane detail about groceries or bills. “And I think it’s time he reconnects with his family.”

The word "family" echoed cruelly in your mind. You wanted to scream, to object, to reveal the truth about that night with Jongho, the message, the balcony. But your throat tightened, silencing you, and you could only swallow hard and nod.

“He’ll start calling you mother,” Taeho added casually, as though he were discussing the weather. “It’s only proper, after all.”

Mother.

You opened your mouth to argue, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you even say? That you couldn’t bear to hear Jongho call you that? That it would remind you of what you’d done, of what you still wanted to do?

You looked away, gripping the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles turned white. The rest of the ride passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a passing car. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you felt numb, like you were floating outside your body.

Taeho got out first, not waiting for you. You followed slowly, dragging your feet as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change it. Inside, the house was quiet, but there was a new presence in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated in the foyer, unsure of where to go or what to do.

“Jongho will be here tomorrow,” Taeho said, tossing his keys onto the table. “Make sure his room is ready.”

You nodded quietly, your mind racing. His room. The guest room, the one downstairs, far enough from yours to give the illusion of propriety but close enough to make your heart race. You wondered if Jongho would feel it too—the pull, the magnetism that seemed to draw you together no matter how hard you tried to resist.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, your thoughts consumed by Jongho—his smile, his touch, the way he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. And now, he’d be living here, under the same roof, calling you mother. It was madness, a cruel twist of fate that you couldn’t escape.

The next morning, you woke up exhausted, your head pounding and your nerves frayed. You dressed quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the guilt etched into your face, the longing you couldn’t hide.

By mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang, and your heart leapt into your throat. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your skirt before answering the door. There he was, standing on the doorstep with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever.

“Mother,” he said, the word slipping off his tongue like honey, sweet and dangerous. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Jongho,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, brushing past you, and the air between you crackled with electricity. You closed the door slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The moment you turned around, he was right there, closer than he should have been.

“This is going to be… interesting,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You shivered, your pulse quickening as his hand brushed against yours.

“We can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a look, his eyes dark with desire.

“Can’t we?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You glanced nervously toward the stairs, half-expecting Taeho to appear at any moment, but the house was silent.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing his. He responded instantly, his hand closing around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

Tell me you don’t want this, his eyes seemed to say, and you knew you couldn’t. Because you did. More than anything. But the rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to remember who you were and what was at stake.

But then he kissed you, and all those thoughts evaporated. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding a response you couldn’t deny. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. His grip tightened, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

When he broke the kiss, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This is wrong,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

“Is it?” he asked, his voice husky. He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Or is it just… inevitable?”

The tension between you and Jongho hung thick in the air, unresolved yet undeniable. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands as you moved through the house felt like a spark waiting to ignite. Taeho’s announcement of a family dinner that evening only deepened the unease.

“Jongho,” Taeho called from the study, his voice carrying an authority that made your stomach knot. “You’ll join us for dinner. I want to discuss the future.”

Jongho glanced at you, his eyes dark with unspoken words. This is dangerous, your mind screamed, but your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly as you remembered the way his lips had claimed yours just hours ago. He nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Father.”

The day stretched on, each hour crawling by as you tried to keep yourself busy. You straightened the living room, polished the silverware, anything to distract yourself from the storm brewing inside you. And all the while, Jongho lingered, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time dinner rolled around, the table was set immaculately, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Taeho took his place at the head of the table, authoritative as ever, while you sat across from Jongho. The distance felt insurmountable yet too close all at once.

As you passed the dishes, your fingers brushed against Jongho’s, sending a jolt through your system. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, his eyes burning with something primal, something forbidden. You quickly looked away, but the damage was done.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I’ve been thinking about our family,” he began, his tone serious. “It’s time we start planning for the future. Jongho will be taking on more responsibilities in the company, and you,” he turned to you, his gaze piercing, “will need to support him as his mother.”

You forced a smile, nodding obediently. “Of course, Taeho.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, his fork clinking softly against his plate. He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

“Father,” he said carefully, “I appreciate your confidence in me. But I’m still learning. There’s no need to rush things.”

Taeho waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re more than capable. It’s time we solidify our legacy.”

Dinner dragged on, the conversation stilted and formal. You barely tasted the food, your senses hyper-aware of Jongho’s every move. When Taeho finally pushed his chair back and announced he was retiring to his study, relief flooded you, though it was short-lived.

“Don’t forget to clear the table,” he said as he left, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You mechanically gathered the dishes, the clattering of plates and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the silent kitchen.

Jongho rose beside you, his movements measured and slow. “Are you okay?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. No, you wanted to say. None of this is okay. But instead, you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the sink. “I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “We can’t do this,” you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed otherwise. “He’s your father.”

“And you’re not my mother,” he shot back, his voice firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what this is. What we are.”

You turned to face him, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. This is wrong, your rational mind protested, but your body leaned into his touch, craving the connection you couldn’t deny.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you jumped apart, your hearts racing. Taeho appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

Jongho straightened, his mask of composure slipping back into place. “Just finishing up, Father.”

Taeho grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he made no further comment. “Don’t dawdle. There’s work to be done.”

He disappeared again, leaving you both standing there, the weight of his suspicion hanging over you.

Once you were certain he was gone, you let out a shaky breath. “This is impossible,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jongho’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, but the fear of discovery lingered. “We’re playing with fire,” you warned, though you didn’t pull away.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then let’s burn.”

Heat surged through you, your resolve wavering. This is madness, part of you knew, but the rest of you didn’t care. The pull between you was too strong to resist, the promise of passion too tempting to ignore.

But before either of you could act, the sound of Taeho’s voice calling for Jongho shattered the moment. You stepped back hastily, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing.

Jongho hesitated, his eyes locking with yours one last time. “Later,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts spiraling. Later. The word echoed in your mind, a promise and a threat all at once. You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was no turning back now.

The days following Jongho’s arrival were a strange mix of tension and anticipation. Taeho’s announcement at dinner had only deepened the unease, but it also left you with a lingering sense of curiosity—and dread. Every glance exchanged with Jongho felt charged, every accidental brush of hands sending jolts of electricity through your body. You tried to remind yourself of the consequences, of the chaos this could unleash, but the reckless part of you didn’t care.

It was a quiet afternoon when Taeho dropped the news. He stood in the living room, his suitcase already packed, and announced he would be leaving for a business trip the next morning.

“I’ll be gone for three days,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Jongho will stay here. I expect you both to manage things while I’m away.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. Three days alone with Jongho. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

Taeho’s departure the next morning was almost too easy. He gave you a curt nod and reminded Jongho to keep an eye on the household affairs before heading out the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the air in the house seemed to shift. It was just you and Jongho now.

For the first hour, you busied yourself with mundane tasks—tidying up, making tea, anything to avoid being alone with him. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Jongho found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared blankly at the stove.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Should I be?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “That depends on you.”

There was a boldness in his eyes that made your breath catch. You knew what he was implying, and though every rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“Jongho…” you started, but your voice trailed off as he closed the distance between you.

His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. That was all the encouragement he needed.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest pressed against yours, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not Taeho, not the consequences, not the guilt that lingered at the edges of your mind.

Jongho’s hands slid down your sides, his touch sending shivers through you. When he lifted you onto the counter, you barely had time to register what was happening before his lips were on your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored further.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

His words sent a thrill through you. Beautiful. How long had it been since someone had said that to you? Since someone had looked at you the way Jongho was looking at you now?

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then his hands were back on you, unbuttoning your blouse with practiced ease. When his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

You hesitated for just a moment, but then you nodded. “Yes.”

That single word seemed to unleash something in him. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming freely over your body. When he finally slipped your bra off, you felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement. His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and you let out a whimper.

“Jongho…” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t respond, too focused on exploring every inch of you. When his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your skirt, you tensed, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And somehow, you believed him. As his fingers found their way between your thighs, you let go, surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke, each caress, built the tension inside you until you were teetering on the edge.

“Jongho, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he added another finger, pushing you over the edge.

Your body shook with the force of your release, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jongho held you steady, his arms strong and reassuring, until the tremors subsided.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a mixture of pride and hunger. “Still nervous?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you towards his bedroom. “Jongho!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“Trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you did.

He carried you effortlessly and set you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He undressed the rest of your clothes slowly, peppering your skin with light kisses as he exposed each new part of you. By the time you were fully naked, you were trembling with anticipation.

Jongho ran his hands over your body, worshipping every inch of you. A low hum rumbled deep in his chest, and a smile spread across his face. You shivered, suddenly feeling shy under his scrutiny.

Before you could speak, he kissed you, and any thoughts of embarrassment faded away. He explored every curve, every line, leaving no part of you untouched. You moaned, arching into his touch. Your nails dug into the sheets, grasping at anything to ground you, as his thumb brushed against the most intimate parts of you.

He pulled away only long enough to free himself of his remaining clothes, and your eyes raked down the planes of his toned, muscular body. As he knelt over you, your gaze locked onto his, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. You reached for him, and he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours. His cock was hot and heavy between your thighs, and you instinctively shifted your hips towards him.

"Impatient, aren't you?" Jongho whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"Jongho, I need..." your words trailed off into a gasp as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself against your clit. "Oh god, I need you."

"How much?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

"So much,” you grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Good, because I need you too."

"Really?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Always," he whispered as he pushed inside you.

Your nails dug into his back as he filled you up. He waited a moment, letting you adjust to his size, before starting to move. Your head spun with the sensation of it, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

"You feel amazing," he grunted, his lips pressing hot, urgent kisses to your skin. "So wet for me."

Your breath hitched as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Please, Jongho, don't stop."

You had no idea where this was going to go. Part of you, the rational part, screamed at you to end it here, to call a stop and walk away. This was dangerous, it knew, but it felt too good to be wrong.

Your toes curled as the pleasure built, a delicious tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach. Jongho's hand slipped down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit and the combination nearly made you come undone.

"Jongho, I—" you gasped. Your body began to shake as you came.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to cum himself as the feeling of you convulsing around his cock almost tipped him over the edge. As soon as you came down, he slipped out of you.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

"Don't want to cum just yet, we're just getting started," he said.

Jongho sat up, shifting so that he was sitting against the headboard and patted his legs. "Want you to ride me," he murmured before claiming your lips again.

You let him guide you, swinging a leg over to straddle him. His lips traveled to your neck as you lowered yourself, grinding your pussy on his thick, hard member, coating him in your slickness.

Jongho nipped at your skin, mumbling praises as he peppered light, gentle kisses. "Need you," he moaned into your neck, sucking on your pulse and letting you know you left your mark.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, picking up your movements and pulling him closer.

He was big, filling you up and stretching you in a way that you'd never experienced. It was hard to believe that he was Taeho's son; you never saw this kind of sexual expertise from your husband, not in a lifetime.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with an openness you weren't familiar with. For the first time, you took a moment to just look at him.

He looked back with a hungry gaze, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other roamed up your sides, then cupped your face as he kissed you. You felt yourself melting into him, into this whole thing that had gotten entirely out of hand. You had always told yourself you weren't the cheating type, yet you were right there doing just that, riding your husband's son in ways you could hardly have imagined doing before tonight.

"You okay?" Jongho asked gently, studying your expression.

"More than okay," you hummed. "I feel perfect."

And it was the truth, no matter how insane it was. You leaned into him, gripping his shoulders as you rode his cock. "I can't remember the last time I felt this happy," you muttered.

It wasn't the sex. Sure, the sex was incredible, but there was something deeper that made you feel so whole. Like something had fallen into place, like something had made the clouds disappear to show the stars. It was dangerous, but you couldn't stop.

"This, us, it's insane but I can't stop," you panted. "I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm scared we'll have to hide once your father returns and—"

Jongho kissed you, tenderly and lovingly. "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out together," he said soothingly. "Forget everything else tonight. Right now, it's just you and me. No one else."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped from your lips. "No one else...just us."

"Just us. I'm yours, and you're mine," Jongho spoke between kisses, trailing his lips down to your collarbone where his teeth scraped your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one else."

"No one else..." you breathed, losing yourself in the feeling of him inside of you.

The conversation paused as he bounced you faster on his length, pulling another long moan from you. Then he took your face in his hand and stroked your cheek.

"God, you're perfect. The most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he mused, bringing your lips to his. He gave you a searing kiss and tugged at your bottom lip before pulling back. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

You pressed your forehead to his. "Keep fucking me," you begged. "Fuck me so hard and deep."

"I've got you." He flipped the both of you, never slipping out of you. "Gonna take care of you," he growled into your ear. "Going to keep your pussy so stuffed."

God, you weren't used to a younger, virile man treating you like a sex goddess. You were the wife of one of the richest men in the country, and your husband refused to fuck you for years now. And suddenly you were with his son, and god, he was fucking amazing.

With both of his palms holding down your shoulders to the bed, he pounded hard and deep into you. The sound of your skin slapping together sounded down the hallway, but neither of you cared.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho hissed. "Gonna keep your cunt stuffed with my cum. Make you so full, fuck a baby into you..."

"God yes, Jongho," you mewled.

You couldn't get pregnant, you knew that already. But the idea of being completely ruined by this young man made your heart sing with delight. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You always dreamed about a home filled with kids and laughter. You were thirty-nine, far past the ideal time for starting a family, but the thought of having a child with Jongho didn't scare you as it would if Taeho were your baby's father. You'd be far happier having your firstborn with someone who actually gave a shit. Someone loving and attentive, even if he was years younger than you.

"Tell me you want it," Jongho groaned into the crook of your neck, pressing sweet and soft kisses along your heated skin. "Say yes."

You bucked against Jongho's hard thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation.

"Yes, fuck, I do. Want it, want you, all of it, all of you," you chanted, words slipping past your tongue, leaving a bittersweet trail of its remnants.

Your words only drove him to be faster, rougher, harder. His pace was maddening, but exactly what you craved. It wasn't long until the familiar buzz started to make itself known in the pit of your belly. Your toes curled and fingers clawed the sheets as the first shock of your release rippled through you, making your pussy clench hard around Jongho's thickness.

"F-fuck, oh god, Jongho," you gasped.

Jongho kept going, his hand cupping one of your bouncing breasts and the other grabbing you by your neck. "That's it, beautiful. Cum all over this fat cock of yours," he grunted, pushing deeper in you.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputtered incoherently, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm wracked you.

As you came, you felt him thrust once, twice before finally bottoming out deep into your cervix and cumming in hot spurts. He stilled, allowing his seed to travel inside you, as deep as he could push. You could feel yourself spasm around him, your orgasm seemingly never ending.

His pace gradually slowed to a stop, both of you just trying to catch your breath. When Jongho lifted his head and glanced down at your limp, sweaty form, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, easing his weight off your smaller body to allow you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle weakly.

"God, you're amazing," you complimented. You winced, though, as he slowly slid himself out, the friction against your sensitive walls making you squirm a little. Jongho laid beside you and propped his head on one arm, the other running down your side, holding onto you.

You hummed, eyes slipping shut, not quite hearing Jongho's soft confession. "I think I love you."

The nausea hit you like a wave, sudden and unrelenting. You’d been feeling off for weeks—fatigue that clung to your bones, a lingering queasiness that no amount of ginger tea could soothe. At first, you dismissed it as stress, the weight of your secret life with Jongho pressing down on your shoulders. But this… this was different.

You leaned against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Taeho hadn’t noticed anything amiss, too preoccupied with his business dealings and late-night meetings. But Jongho… he’d caught the faint tremble in your hands, the way you’d pushed your food around your plate during dinner last night.

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, his voice low with concern. You’d brushed him off, laughed it away, but now, alone in the quiet of the house, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You knew you couldn’t go to your usual doctor. The risk of Taeho finding out was too great. Instead, you made an appointment at your maternal family’s hospital, a place where your name still carried enough weight to ensure discretion. The drive there felt surreal, the city streets blurring past as your mind raced with possibilities. What if it’s just a virus? What if it’s something worse?

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights adding to your anxiety. When your name was called, you followed the nurse with robotic steps, barely registering her polite chatter. The exam room was colder than you remembered, the paper gown scratchy against your skin. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, ran through the standard questions. How long have you been feeling this way? Any other symptoms? When was your last period?

That last question made you pause. You couldn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d even thought about it.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before ordering a series of tests.

The wait for the results felt endless. You sat on the edge of the exam table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. When the doctor returned, her expression was unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her before turning to face you.

“Well,” she began, her tone measured, “the good news is, you’re perfectly healthy. The nausea and fatigue are likely due to—”

“Due to what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

The doctor smiled gently. “Due to your pregnancy.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. They hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible.

“P-pregnancy?” you stammered, your mind reeling. “But… that’s not possible. I was told I couldn’t conceive.”

“Sometimes,” the doctor explained, her tone soothing, “miracles happen. Based on your test results, you’re about eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

A baby. Jongho’s baby.

The implications crashed over you like a tidal wave—Taeho’s reaction, your family’s expectations, society's judgment. And yet, beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. Something warm and hopeful. A tiny flame of joy that refused to be extinguished.

You left the hospital in a daze, the doctor’s instructions and prenatal vitamins tucked into your bag. The world outside seemed brighter somehow, the colors more vivid, the sounds sharper. You needed to talk to Jongho. He deserved to know. But how would he react? Would he see this as a blessing or a curse? And how the hell were you going to explain this to Taeho?

When you arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. Taeho was away on another business trip, and Jongho was… well, you weren’t sure where he was. You wandered aimlessly through the rooms, your mind racing with thoughts and fears. Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared out the window at the garden.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How do you even begin to tell someone something like this? Sensing your hesitation, Jongho crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I went to the doctor today.”

His frown deepened. “Is everything okay? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt. “No. Not sick. I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so radiant it made your heart ache.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Eight weeks.”

He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is incredible,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His joy was contagious, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms, the tension in your body melting away. But then, the reality of your situation came rushing back, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “What are we going to do about Taeho? About… everything?”

Jongho cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and determined. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Every word,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “You’re mine. This baby is ours. And nothing,nothing, is going to take that away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, to let yourself get lost in the promise of his words. But the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.

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