#and in general i have a very low expectation for anything with her in it but in fairness this may be less a matter of actual licensed

[skyfcx]

yo yo yo! howza'bout an update?

howdy, long time no see and all that. it's currently almost 3 am est at the time of starting this post, so if you're looking to read this, just expect a real stream of consciousness type post.

first, let's address tumblr stuff! i've been absent for a good bit, and... i think it's going to stay like that for quite some time. if i'm being honest, the desire to write on tumblr has been at an all-time low as of late. the only ping i've gotten has been for tails and rosalina, and that's really just because those two are forever characters and that desire will never properly vanish. but for rping in general? i think i'll be taking quite the hiatus.

now i'm not putting up the deuces and vanishing forever! i'm still having creative thoughts, just not in the rping direction. if i were to post anything, it would probably be some more fanfiction-type stories featuring my ocs and the adventures i've been plotting out for them. so. short stories, i suppose! i could see myself reviving my extremely short-lived personal blog and posting some things there if i ever got the motivation to sit down and actually write something more bookish.

though with all of that said, this is probably a mighty see you soon on the tumblr front. i still check my main blogs and i am available on discord even though i've been pretty shit at responding to messages, totally my fault to those i've kinda lowkey ghosted. but i'm gonna be real quiet going forward. hugs and kisses to the lot of you, though. i see everyone still having fun every single day. just imagine an image of me giving a thumbs up superimposed on the sky. that's the vibe.

now, personal life stuff! gender is still weird but i think i'm starting to get a handle on it. after properly being mistaken as a female in public for the first time, i think i'm comfortable enough to upgrade my he/him to a he/she/they! still have. no idea if boy or girl or both or neither, but in terms of pronouns? i dont mind being a him because that's what i've been all my life, she feels very good because that means im being viewed as feminine-presenting, and they is honestly just the most accurate nine times outta ten. tbh the only thing i know for sure is that i dont want to be masculine-presenting. i can be male, but i refuse to be masculine, lmao.

also, i got new glasses! they're more rounded and really help the feminine look, i think. i've been catching myself smiling more at my reflection whenever i see myself in the mirror with them on, so the change has been really positive already. i'm in a place where i wanna experiment with my clothes and see how me i can truly feel like.

oh! and im not sure if i've mentioned it, but i've moved to a far more comfortable place with my girlfriend!!! she's trans, her family was super accepting of her, and now they're super accepting of me wearing the sorts of clothes i like! so i've been far more willing to test out the sorts of clothes i wear now that i dont have to worry about being found out. so...

yknow. all in all? i'm doing real good over here, gang. despite the radio silence. perhaps sometime in the future i'll pop back in with some sorta blog to get goofy on the dash with yall again. or maybe i'll actually write short stories and post those to their own blog! whatever it is, i just wanted to pop in at. three at night. and share my thoughts in the form of a life update. life's been good on the macro. we will work on the micro, but the overview makes me quite happy when i step back and look at it.

[seveneyesoup]

oh yeah Harley Quinn and the Joker is a separate thing that doesn't have any connection to the Unburied-verse so idk why they put it in the same playlist? probably because it's both batman audio dramas geared towards adults? but it's got a different cast and everything and most importantly Sound Mind Batman is a white man so the podcasts can't be in the same universe

i see, good to know bc i am enjoying batman unburied but i. as a rule have like zero interest in anything joker branded so i was not excited about the prospect of listening to however many episodes of harley quinn and the joker podcast so thanks for saving me the trouble of listening to the whole thing waiting for it to tie in lol

[snapscube]

I FINISHED TURNABOUT BIG TOP! Which means here is my updated autopsy report ranking for cases and characters!

Both have actually shifted around quite a bit so you may find it an interesting update. I'll explain some of my current thoughts on the new placements as well as my thoughts on 2-3 in general below a break if ur curious.

Okay so first thing let's just address the elephant in the room: We have an all new category on the character ranking!! One that I sure wish I didn't have to include but unfortunately Big Top made some... very Interesting decisions with specific characters. It would be one thing if this content was featured and then addressed, but it was particularly off-putting and frustrating to me that everything was played entirely straight?? So yeah. New lowest of the low category for a couple freaks who are actively courting a 16 year old!!!! yayyyyyy

OTHERWISE, I do have to say.... I was really pleasantly surprised at 2-3 as a case. I can say now I completely understand people having a distaste for it especially in regards to the unsavory age gaps, but literally..... almost everything else in this case was well put together and generally on-par with the quality of the rest of the series? As an overall package I actually still find Turnabout Samurai infinitely more dull. Like, maybe it's just because the lead-up to actually playing it was so uniquely frustrating for me and forcibly lowered my expectations by a ton, but there was so much good shit in Big Top. Maya, in particular, is in top form during this case. She is so fucking funny. I loved almost every word that came out of her mouth and it really solidified her top spot in the character ranking for me at present. But past that, I think the second half of this case is EXTREMELY strong compared to its opening half. I'll admit during the first trial section I was getting kinda tired with it and finding it hard to care given how much I just do not root for Max, so I had tentatively placed it at bottom of C tier. But then once von Karma arrives in the investigation section and then Acro's storyline enters the equation I really think it finds its footing. I actually found the last few scenes of the trial very emotionally effective, especially Acro's breakdown at the witness stand and mentioning how he couldn't follow through with taking his own life to escape his crime due to his desire to see his brother wake up. Like... I legitimately teared up.

And FURTHERMORE.... von Karma. Oh my god. I don't know if I'm picking up on anything here, nor do I want to know until I maybe see it for myself, but something about her conduct in the final trial really spoke to me. I feel like a surface read makes it apparent that she's just as frustrated as she is because she's losing the case to Wright again, and I do think that's a huge factor still to her reaction... but I don't know, I felt something else with her. Particularly when it came to her reaction towards Acro's attempted murder of Regina. I felt like she came across as PARTICULARLY disgusted towards that revelation and towards her own client in a way that subtly humanized her and had me just CHUCKLING AND CHORTLING in evil anticipation towards potential character arcs. I really hope I've grasped onto something here because... I love her so much. I love the idea that in spite of her reputation we're still gonna get to see this spark of humanity light up. AHHHHH.

Okay. Anyway. In summary:

I understand why people have a distaste for Big Top now, but it does not change the fact that I desperately wish I had been given the chance to experience the story myself going into it without that baggage. It genuinely did not help my experience in the slightest to just have that cloud of expectation over it and it is generally irritating that I couldn't even bring up that I was playing it without people jokingly apologizing to me or telling me that I wouldn't be able to handle it or whatever. Really not a great vibe.

As a case, it has a couple MAJOR, GLARING points of discomfort but I'm still really glad I gave it a chance and was able to find a lot of good in it anyway. It inspired me to unfortunately lower some of my other rankings because this is what I kind of consider a more middle-of-the-road quality for the series now. Solid B tier. I have played much worse.

Maya Fey is a god damn treasure.

As for some of the other character shifts, particularly in relation to some of the characters who got bumped from S to A rank, that's less because I decided I like them less now than I did when I first ranked them and more that I decided my initial interpretation of my feelings was incongruent in some cases. Like, for example I LOVE Mia I really do she's great, but in no way at this current time is she on the same level as Maya or Lana for me. So I just needed to adjust the ratios a bit.

Anyway, I'll be back eventually with posts about the next case and the last one of AA2! :3 I hear it's pretttyyy long but pretttyyy damn GOOD. Can't wait.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between the two of you formed, Azriel takes you to meet his family for a dinner.

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of family problems, but other than that just some cute fluff

A/N: Sorry this was so long coming I went through some writer’s block, but it’s here now and I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Your family hadn’t been the most supportive, which was expected when you suddenly told them that you were mates with not just a Night Court resident, but the Spymaster of Night Court, a male shrouded in mystery and vicious rumors of the things he’d done, how he was a violent, secretive and dangerous person.

Even your attempts to convince them otherwise hadn’t yielded much.

“He’s dangerous, especially for our kind. You’re delicate, he’s..anything but.” Your father had spoken, your mother just seeming concerned. They hadn’t told the rest of your family the truth behind your absence, other than the fact that you wouldn’t be coming back for quite a while.

Being cut off completely from your family hurt, they’d been there for your entire life, your first steps, first words, birthdays, graduations, heartbreaks, everything. But you didn’t have time to think about that now, not as you were standing outside the family townhouse of Azriel’s adoptive family, most of them being people he’d known for centuries.

It was more than a bit nerve-wracking.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too much.”

Azriel’s voice, quiet and low, but soothing said. You swallowed, shaking your head. You would do this. His family had already been told that you would join them tonight, and you’d even dragged him out to help pick a dress, even though he said they all looked good on you.

You’d ended up choosing a light pink romper, a color that complimented your hair, and your light shimmery wings and the pixies that surrounded them. You hadn’t ever intentionally kept your wings out around strangers, but you felt like it was wrong to try and hide anything from your mate’s family. Especially since you suspected that he was waiting for his family’s approval to accept the bond.

“I want to.”

You replied quietly to him, his hands sliding into yours, a movement that was second nature by now. He gave you one last glance that said, “You can back out, I won’t be upset” but you only shook your head. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before gently leading you into the house, and opening the door.

The home itself was customized to everyone inside, and it was obvious. From the Illyrian-sized couch and armchairs to the large fireplace, or the garden in the backyard you could see through the windows or the paintings of the family. You recognized some, like the High Lord and his mate, or the General, then Azriel as well as a few other women.

As soon as you and Azriel were even three steps into the home, you were greeted with a little toddler squealing and hugging Az’s leg, before gaping up at you and reaching up to try and tug at your wings, seemingly fascinated with how they looked. Luckily, the High Lady scooped him up and away just in time, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, he’s wild these days. I’m Feyre, this is my son, Nyx.”

You smiled, looking down at the little boy and then at the female.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m-“

“Is Az’s girlfriend here?”

An excited and teasing voice asked, peeking around the corner before the General himself came into view. He was tall, muscular, and very brusque looking, a stern-looking female followed behind him, shooting him a look.

“Don’t cut her off,”

She snapped at him, and Cassian winced, hand going to rub the back of his neck as he sheepishly grinned.

“I’m Nesta, and this big idiot is my mate, Cassian.”

She said, eyes looking you up and down before whatever standards she held in her head were appeased and she relaxed a bit.

“I’m Y/N.”

You said, feeling oddly nervous now even though the hard part was mostly over. Rhysand strode into the room, smiling at you before murmuring something to Feyre and picking Nyx up and holding the little boy. It was a bit funny seeing the mighty High Lord having his ears and hair yanked on by a little toddler.

“Rhys, but I’m sure you already know that.”

He said in an amused tone, and Cassian snorted.

“Hard not to know your name when you’re such a massive prick.”

He said in a joking but casual tone with a crooked grin as he poked Rhys in the elbow, the High Lord squirming a bit. You glanced back at Azriel, amused, and his hazel eyes seemed to almost glitter as he smiled at you, looking gleeful that you were getting along with his family, or at least finding them entertaining.

Rhys rolled his eyes at Cassian’s remark, slipping his arm around his mate’s, and began walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, shut it. Let’s just eat dinner already.”

He said, and Azriel gave you a reassuring glance, arm gently placed around your waist as he led you into the kitchen that smelled of delicious food, and the two of you sat down, greeted with generous plates at the center of the table of meats, sides, all sorts of foods. Some of which you hadn’t ever seen in Spring Court.

The cooks, it seemed, were two shadowy females who you couldn’t tell apart, and another female, this one seemed like she could’ve been from Spring herself, happily finishing up the rest of the food with a warm smile. When she caught sight of you while putting the rest of the food at the center of the table, she offered a smile.

“I’m Elain.”

She said simply with a little nod before everyone else sat at the table. Nesta was to your left, Azriel to your right. Everyone got themselves some generous helpings of the large plate fills of food at the center, Azriel helping you cut up some of the meat that you couldn’t.

“Thanks,”

You said to him in a quiet tone, he smiled in a wry manner, raising a brow at you.

“It wasn’t that hard.”

He murmured back, and you gave him a look.

“If I knew you were so good at handling meat, I might’ve asked you sooner.”

You said back, and Cassian must’ve heard what you said because he snorted and choked on his food while Nesta smirked. Azriel only shook his head and smiled, giving you an amused and affectionate look that made your stomach fill with little butterflies. Rhys glanced between the two of you, a feline smile gracing his lips.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

He asked in an amused tone, at which Azriel only sighed, giving Rhys a little half-assed glare as his shadows slithered onto your skin and dress.

“It’s not hard,”

You said in an amused tone, at which Cassian let out a bark of laughter, Rhys shook his head and the females exchanged glances. Even Azriel let out a laugh at that, the sound deep and rich. The entire room went silent at that, them staring at Azriel, though he was too busy watching you to notice or care.

“Damn, you really do, huh?”

Cassian asked in an almost disbelieving tone, and Rhys, finally overcoming his surprise, smiled.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that in nearly two centuries,”

He said, at which Azriel finally snapped back into reality, hand tightening around your waist as his cheeks lightly dusted with pink.

“Or that time when he watched you fall out of that big ass tree, that was pretty funny.”

Cassian said with a grin, and Nesta and Feyre both laughed.

“At least I didn’t get called ‘Cass with the Ass’ for my first few years at camp.”

Rhys retorted, and Cassian sputtered, looking to Nesta for some support, and getting none as she too snickered at the nickname. You giggled quietly and Azriel smirked. Cassian huffed, grumbling something under his breath.

“Someone’s jealous of my ass.”

He grumbled, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“We all know that your ass is just overcompensating for something else.”

He said dryly, and everyone laughed at that, even Cassian had to admit that it was good.

Beneath everyone’s laughter, Azriel pulled you a bit closer to him from his chair, smiling at you as if it were just the two of you in the room. You smiled back, leaning into him as the two of your chairs scooted closer.

‘I love you’, he mouthed to you, the truth of it clear in his eyes.

‘I love you too’, you mouthed back.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@deepestmentalitypersona

@hqmsby

[qqueenofhades]

So I keep seeing people play the "Harris is a Cop, so I'm not voting for her because ACAB" card, and not even pointing out that she was a DA/Prosecutor rather than an actual cop seems to change their minds - as far as they're concerned, working with cops in any capacity makes you a cop. Do you happen to have anything that'd make for a good counterpoint to this argument (or, at the very least, something to make those of us who still plan on voting for her despite our dim views on Law Enforcement not feel so bad about it)?

....Not feel so bad about it?

First of all: these are laughably, incredibly unbelievably unserious people, and frankly, my first advice would be NOT to bother trying to engage with them at all, because there is nothing whatsoever they will ever accept in the way of logical proof to change their minds. First it was "you can't ask me to vote for Biden specifically because of [insert issue here.]" This changed a lot, from Roe getting overturned by the corrupt SCOTUS, to the train strike (hey anyone remember that?) to student loan forgiveness and then had settled firmly on Gaza. So now, lo and behold, they're given exactly what they asked for: a new younger candidate who is not Biden and explicitly more progressive on the Gaza issue (Harris was the first member of the administration to openly call for a ceasefire). So they turn their noses up, rush to their favorite 2020 disinformation founts that were first spouted when they were trying to sabotage her in favor of Bernie (who endorsed Biden pretty strongly before he dropped out), flirt with Jill "Actual Agent of Putin" Stein, and other equally expected and equally bullshit maneuvers. Lololololololol online leftists. Never change, or something.

That said: because their minds are so set that they will never vote for any Democrat ever, you can't really give them any logical information to separate them from this conclusion. I don't have the links on hand, but etc Google and Wikipedia are free: Harris's tenure as district attorney and California AG was progressive even by modern standards, and it was happening in the early 2000s: she refused to prosecute for low-level weed offenses, pushed for harder sentences for assault weapons, performed gay marriages LONG before it was legal even in San Freaking Francisco, refused to seek the death penalty, worked with restorative justice programs, etc. This was after she was a first-generation American child of brown immigrants who took advantage of equal-opportunity education programs to go to law school, and her parents were already high-achieving academics (one a cancer researcher from India and one an economics professor from Jamaica). Sure sure, she definitely seems exactly like Derek Chauvin to me. Critical thinking is great! #VoteJillStein! A literal puppet of Putin and unabashed Assad fangirl is definitely the pro-peace morally correct option here!*

In other words, the morons do not give a single shit about factual reflections of Kamala's record. They do not care about whether her time as a district attorney was progressive (it was) and whether she was actually a cop (she wasn't). They're so wedded at the hip to their braindead disinformation propaganda that now we're going to see the excuses change at lightspeed from why they can't vote for Biden specifically to why they can't vote for Harris specifically. None of it will be remotely tethered to reality and all of it will be in extreme and obvious bad faith. As I said, there are plenty of persuadable voters elsewhere who HAVE been energized by her elevation to candidacy. If you are indeed interested in winning voters to her side (as opposed to having to find reasons to justify yourself to the All Voting Is Evil crowd who will never listen to or believe you anyway), I suspect your time would be better spent elsewhere, and outside the echo-chamber leftist social media space in general.

Aside from that, I have gotten a few hand-wringy asks about Kamala and the election overall, and I gotta say, I am not going to waste my time and effort replying to them. We have about 100 days to win this election or become a fascist dictatorship. We are already in uncharted territory, but the replacement of Biden with Harris went UNIMAGINABLY smoothly, far, far more than anyone (including me) ever expected. It reminds me of the presto-chango that the French center, left, and center-left parties pulled off to replace candidates, IN FIVE DAYS, to better position themselves to defeat the fascists. Compared to that, three and a half months is a cakewalk, but we still absolutely do not, DO NOT, have time to sit around worrying and hand-wringing about this or that hypothetical Bad Thing. It deeply unsurprises me to hear that US Online Leftists are still throwing snits and pitching their toys out of the pram rather than getting on board, but the rest of us don't have any time to waste and need to apply our energy to where it will be best put to use. So yes.

*extreme, extreme sarcasm alert

[xmalereader]

Viktor Targaryen x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: An AU regarding The house of dragons and arcane, Viktor is the second born child of King Targaryen and king to be, but Viktor doesn’t want the iron throne, nor does he want to stay in Dragonstone.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, family history, no incest, sibling bonding, slight sexism and misogyny, Viktor is a good brother, OC dragon name, high valyrian, Viktors mother, mentions of Jayce, Piltover is a growing kingdom, short interaction with reader, non accurate GOT and HOTD lore.

WC: 2.0K

NOTES: I don’t know SHIT about game of throne or house of dragons 😅 but based on the little research I did and very few random episodes hopefully I am able to make this story make sense. It won’t really fit within the GOT universe so don’t judge me for the changes I will be making! But I just had to write this because Viktor just reminded me of the Targaryens due to the white hair when he was inside the arcane.

Viktor Targaryen was the second born child of King Targaryen, brother to Rhaenyra Targaryen. Only difference about him was that both siblings had a different mother, same father. Viktors mother was a commoner, a low life, as one would say and yet, she found a way to capture the kings heart. Rheanyra wasn’t too happy about her fathers marriage thinking that the women was only seducing her father in order to get her way only to realize that she was a very kind hearted women who wanted nothing to do with the Iron Throne.

When she fell pregnant with Rheanyra’s new baby brother she at first didn’t like the idea of having a brother, knowing that he would be the one to take over the throne and not her. Just as her father had promised her she knew that the promise would be broken the minute her brother would be born, being granted approval as the new future king.

Only Viktor never wanted the crown.

When Viktor got older he would remember hearing the murmurs of the council discussing on who would take over the throne after his father passes. Many in the council wanted Viktor to take over, but even he knew he wouldn’t be a proper king. His sister was perfect for the throne, he’s seen the way people bend to the knee for her, even their dragons bowed to her. She was the rightful heir, not him.

The first time the council called for him to take the throne he refused. It didn’t matter if he was the first born son, the crown wasn’t his and he wouldn’t take it away from someone who it did belong to. Things didn’t get better for Viktor, his father continued to grow ill and his own mother passed from the grey mist, air that poisoned her lungs until she could no longer breath anymore.

The council continued to push him to accept the crown and each time he rejected it.

Rhaenyra had noticed her brothers anger and was the one to approach him about it. Finding him out on the terrace where he overlooked their people, a frown on his face as the moonlight shined down upon them.

“You’re angry.”

He’s quiet when hearing her words.

Rhaenyra lets out a deep sigh through her nose. The two already knew where this was going, no matter how hard she tried the throne would never be given to her all because she was a women. A women that couldn’t lead a kingdom to peace, but Viktor knows that she can. He’s seen it in her.

“The council wants me to claim the iron throne. No matter how many times I refuse they will never stop.” Viktor finally says and looks over his shoulder to find his sister, looking at him with an upset expression of her own.

“They won’t stop until you sit on that throne.”

“I know that.”

Viktor never liked the idea of being a ruler. Yes, he wanted to help humanity without being needed anything in return. If he could do that he would, but the council would refuse him and expect him to follow along the traditions, keeping everything in balance for future generations.

His own father only spoke to the people whenever they entered their castle for help, he was never out in the streets and facing the reality of their suffering. Viktor had seen it, he had seen the terrible conditions his people lived in and no matter how much he wanted to help them he wouldn’t be able to without claiming the throne which would restrict him from doing things his own way.

Which is why he believes his own sister could be a better ruler then him. She would follow the traditions while also finding a way to help their people in her own ways.

“You should be on that throne, not me.” Viktor suddenly says, catching Rhaenyra by surprise as she approached him, standing by his side. His eyes locking with hers. “You’re the rightful heir to the iron throne, they may not see it but I do.” He’s heard the councils murmurs and distaste about the idea of her being the one to take over when both he and his father knew that she was the rightful one.

“You know they won’t allow it.”

“You’re right, they won’t.” He gentle takes her hand into his gloved one. “If I’m not here.” He sees the look of disbelief in his sisters eyes, he has thought about this for a very long time. The only way he’d be free from the crown is if he left, disappeared from this place that he once called home.

“You can’t leave, you’re my brother.”

“A brother who is holding their sister back from claiming what is rightfully theirs.”

Both siblings have grown close throughout the years that there were times where they were inseparable always attached to the hip and helping each other out. He was there when his sister first bared a child, the fear in her eyes when she refused help from the maids, afraid of facing a similar outcome as her mother. He was always there for her just as she was for him the day he lost his mother, watching as they tossed her coffin into the sea where the ocean waters claimed her as theirs.

But now, Viktor has to be the one to make the hard choices.

Rhaenyra is at lose for words, unable to say anything. She can see it in her brothers eyes that there is no way in convincing him to stay. So, she gives him a silent goodbye. Her forehead is pressed against his the two taking in their final moment together before Viktor pulls away first, giving her a sad smile.

“ēva īlon rhaenagon arlī.”

And with that final goodbye he leaves his sister.

Escaping into the dead of night he mounts his dragon, Xanthus, and takes off. Disappearing from his family line and being known as the ‘The Lost Child’.

Viktor had no idea where he was even going, he had no plan nor did he know anyone that he can ask for assistance. He couldn’t stay where his name was known nor could he be close to his own home.

So, Xanthus flew them out far.

Far from home and across the sea to a whole new world that Viktor didn’t know existed. Viktor didn’t think that he’d find a place meant for him until he stumbled upon an island called Piltover. It was rather small, but decent. The people there lived comfortably, but of course they had a council of their own and when Viktor first made an appearance with his dragon the place grew in panic, bells ringing in alert from his presence and causing the whole town to go into lockdown.

When Xanthus lands near the bridge that connected two different towns he was greeted with soldier wielding their weapons at him. The threat wasn’t taken lightly by Xanthus the large golden dragon ready to strike them down with a simple command that comes from his rider only it never came.

It wasn’t until a short man makes his way through the crowd of soldiers, hands behind his back as he stares up at Viktor and Xanthus. The man had a brightness in his eyes that somewhat eased Viktor.

“Magnificent beast.” The man didn’t seem scared of Xanthus which caught Viktor by surprise. Everyone back at home worshipped their dragons like gods, knowing how dangerous and powerful they can be and how impossible it was to kill a dragon.

The large beast releases a hiss towards the man. “Gīda.” He placed a hand on the dragons neck, providing soothing rubs as he calms the dragon down from doing anything harsh.

“Magnificent.” He hears the man repeat in awe which has Viktor chuckling, letting go of the reigns and sliding off his dragon who stood by him in a protective way, ready to attack in case anything were to happen to him. “Do you say that a lot?” Viktor asks with an arched brow which has the man chuckling a smile on his face.

“Only when I see something very interesting.”

Viktor can only smile at the mans cheerfulness finding it quiet odd since he’s never been around someone like him before. That was the first time he met Heimerdinger, head of the council of Piltover. When Viktor first met the council he was surprised by how many women were involved, something he’s never seen back at Dragonstone. They held their heads up high and spoke with confidence, intimidation radiating off of them when asking him where he came from and why he was here.

At first he didn’t know if providing his family name was a good idea, afraid of them alerting his family, but when they heard the name ‘Targaryen’ it was unknown to them. A sense of relief washed over Viktor and for the first time ever he felt free from the bonds that his family name carried.

Viktor was lucky enough to stay, getting the councils approval as long as he maintained his dragon from causing them any trouble. Which then resulted into Viktor finding them a home for themselves. Xanthus hated cramped spaces and never stayed underground like he did back at Dragonstone he always remained above ground where he knew he could easily defend himself without feeling trapped like his brothers and sisters did.

The time he spent in Piltover resulted into him learning about their history and becoming Heimerdingers pupil, learning from the shorter man and providing his own assistance. He’s seen what Piltover is doing to advance into their future, providing their people easier ways to travel and transport goods which Viktor helped with.

Viktor doesn’t know how long he spent living in Piltover that with time he befriend a man named Jayce who wanted to do so much for the future. Not only had he met Jayce, but he had also met a young man who worked alongside the council. He was the assistant to Council women Merdarda he had seen him around but never really spoke to him until he caught him once with Xanthus.

He usually checked up on his dragon, caring for him ever since he was a hatchling and tightening their bond everyday only to be surprised when Xanthus allows another human to approach him so easily. Most dragons wouldn’t listen to anyone unless its a Targaryen member and to see this with his own eyes made him rethink his families history.

“He likes you.”

The man gasps when hearing Viktor, pulling his hand away from the dragons scaly neck. Xanthus lets out a small rumble in the back of his throat, shifting to lie his head on the grass below him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Viktor shakes his head. “It’s alright, he usually doesn’t allow anyone to approach him unless its me. It caught me by surprise that he allowed anyone else besides me to touch him.” His own gloved hand trails down the dragons neck, stepping closer to the man who swallows nervously.

“I was curious.”

“Your curiosity can get you hurt,” His eyes trail from Xanthus to the assistant. “Or killed.”

“I have a strange habit of approaching dangerous things without thinking twice.” His words causes Viktor to chuckle, blue eyes locking with the mans, his hand not leaving Xanthus neck it always brought him a sense of comfort.

“You’re Merdard’s assistant?”

The man gives a cocky grin. “I am.” He responds back. “You must be Heimerdingers?”

Viktors lip twitch into a smile when hearing his question being thrown back at him.

“I am.” He confirms his words which has the other nodding along. A silence falls between them before the other cuts it first.

“I never got your name.”

The Targaryen turns to look at him. “It’s Viktor.”

[kittenintheden]

how to train your brat

oh fuck it you gremlins have this mess of a scene lol. consider it a sneak preview for a far future chapter of NYS. you can skip it if you want to save it for later.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (f!OC) Word Count: 2.2k Content: 18+, Ori bratting, (unascended) Astarion brat-taming, light BDSM elements, blowjob, teasing, dirty talk, light spanking, orgasm denial, PIV sex, established relationship, safe sane consensual, future NYS content

The moment the door swings shut, Astarion throws the bolt and stalks up behind Ori, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her flush against him so that she can feel his arousal against her arse. She hums and pushes back into it, thinking she knows what he has planned, so he gives her a little shake.

He puts his mouth to her ear and growls, “Oh, darling, you think you’ve earned this? My little scoundrel. You’ve been nothing short of a complete brat all damned day.”

“You liked it,” she teases, attempting to tilt her head back so she can nip at his ear. He doesn’t let her move.

“She thinks she’s so very clever, leaving me aching for hours,” he whispers, giving her one more light shake to drive the point home that she’s not to move. He releases one of her arms and reaches straight down the front of her leggings, seeking the slick he knows waits there. She groans and grinds into his touch, trying to get a draw across her clit, but he intentionally pulls back.

“No, no,” he says, removing his hand and bringing his fingers, shining with wet, to his mouth so he can lick his tongue along them. “You don’t get rewarded for this behavior. Don’t think I haven’t been able to tell that you’ve been soaking through your smallclothes all day. This was all for you. Filthy girl.”

She hums again, the flush across her cheeks belying her nonchalance. “And what, pray tell, are we going to do about that?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” he says, spinning her around so he can put a hand under her jaw and make her look him in the face. “You’re the brat. Do you know what happens to brats?”

“What’s that?” she breathes, her smile seductive and easy. She peeks out her tongue to curl toward his mouth.

“Brats have to beg,” he whispers, holding her in place. “So get on your knees and ask sweetly. And if you’re a very good girl and I’m feeling very generous, I might let your needy cunt take the cock it so desperately wants.”

She pouts, then, sticking out her lower lip and giving him her biggest, saddest eyes. “Even though I could soothe your ache? It must be so much to bear by now.” 

His grin spreads over his face and he shakes his head. “You’ve no idea how long I can wait, my love,” he says. “Your move.”

Ori gives him several slow blinks, judging his resolve. When he doesn’t waver, she smirks and turns her head just enough to place a tiny lick along his thumb.

Then she goes down.

His breath catches. Part of him hadn’t expected her to do it. Thought she’d tap out. But she doesn’t. She’s on her knees before him, looking up doe-eyed and waiting for whatever’s next. Waiting for him to tell her what’s next.

Astarion’s pupils blow out and he exhales.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, voice pitched low.

Ori puts her hands behind her back.

He rotates his shoulders and his spine goes straight as he looks down at her, a calm settling over him. A confidence. It’s like pulling on a persona, but it’s more than that, because he wants to do it. He wants to be this version of himself right now, and he can take it off again if he chooses.

Astarion puts a knuckle under her chin and sharpens the tilt of her head, making it so she has no choice but to look him directly in the eye.

“Are you going to be good for me, Orianna?” he says in a voice like honey.

She licks along her lips and leaves them parted a moment before she answers, “Yes, dearest. I’ll be so good for you.”

A shiver runs up his spine and he huffs a laugh, rolling his neck before he looks down at her again. “You certainly will.” His fingers go to his laces, undoing his stays without any particular hurry as Ori’s eyes trace the action. He reaches inside and strokes along his cock, throwing his head back with a sigh at the temporary relief. His head tips forward again and he continues to work himself.

Ori bites her lip and slowly lets it go as she watches the movement.

He’s breathy as he says, “If I were a cruel man, I’d do it myself while you watch and then leave you wanting after how you’ve behaved.” Stroke. Stroke. “But I’ll be generous. I’ll give you a chance to convince me.”

She shudders her breath out and flicks her eyes back up to his face.

Stroke.

“If you’d like to come tonight,” he purrs. “Then beg for what you want, brat.”

Ori swallows and he watches her face go soft and pleading, lip quivering. He knows it’s an act, just like his, but gods is it convincing.

“I’m so sorry, love,” she says tearfully. “I’ve been just awful. I’m desperate for you. Empty. I need you, beloved. Your touch. Your mouth. Your cock. Please let me do better. Please, may I? May I be good for you?”

The rush of arousal makes him lightheaded, swaying on his feet for a second before he rights himself. “Show me how good,” he breathes, pulling his cock free for her. “Slowly, now.”

She holds his eye as she leans forward, arms clasped tightly behind her back, and licks the flat of her tongue along the underside of the head of his cock, working extra carefully around the sensitive bit where his foreskin connects.

His right knee buckles the tiniest bit before he catches himself.

Ori maintains eye contact as she kisses down the shaft and runs her tongue along the seam between his balls and all the way back up again.

He swallows thickly and raises a brow at her. “You can do better, darling.”

Rising to the challenge, Ori takes him fully in her mouth, bobbing down halfway the first time and then a little deeper with each successive try. She hollows her cheeks and her mouth is hot and soft and her tongue is rolling in waves along his length. He struggles not to simply melt into the sensation. 

As directed, she keeps an agonizing pace, sucking him slowly so he can feel every bit of it. He breathes in deep through his nose and exhales through his mouth as he watches her pleasuring him at his direction, leaving herself untouched. It stokes the fire in his belly and he can’t stop the moan in his throat as the tension of the day catches up with him.

Gently, he cants his hips to meet her, beginning to lose himself in the relief her sweet mouth provides. His eyes fall closed and he cards his fingers through her hair on one side, thumb instinctively rubbing small circles against her ear. She moans around him and Astarion feels his cock harden further.

“Oh, good girl,” he whispers. “Ah, such a good girl.”

The deliciously slow build begins to develop a sharper edge, his pleasure mounting.

But oh, he’s not done with her yet.

With an absolutely monumental effort, Astarion claws the shredded strings of his thoughts back together long enough to use his hand to stop her movement. He draws back from her and she peers up at him, waiting, a strand of her saliva still connecting them. She blinks her wide eyes at him like an innocent.

“Up,” he grunts, holding out a hand for her. She accepts it and allows him to pull her to standing.

He can see that she’s gone glassy-eyed at this point, and the briefest brush over the tadpole connection reveals that she’s almost as mad with lust as he is, all from pleasing him so thoroughly.

And just like that, he feels the rush of having the upper hand again. He kisses her hard, both hands on either side of her head, and backs her toward the bed. Though their bodies are crushed together, he manages to run his hands down to her leggings, shoving them roughly over her hips just before her knees hit the bed and she goes onto her back. She lifts her legs to help him get her bottoms all the way off and sits up on the edge of the mattress, legs spread and a triumphant smile on her face, chest heaving in anticipation.

Astarion bends at the waist with a fist pressed to either side of her thighs on the bed, leaning in as if for a kiss. When she tilts her face forward, he stops just short of her mouth.

Ori’s brow furrows the tiniest bit in confusion.

“Did you think you’d earned cock, just for that?” he whispers against her lips. “Silly thing.”

She gives a surprised huff of a laugh. “I… what?”

He reaches up a thumb to draw across her lower lip, watching as it goes. “You vastly underestimate the amount of bollock-ache you left me with today.”

“Astarion,” she sighs in frustration.

“What happens to brats, Ori?” he teases.

She squeezes her eyes shut and blows a curl out of her face. The intensity in her gaze when she opens them again is off the charts. “Brats have to beg,” she says.

“I’m listening,” he says with a smirk.

“Gods damn it,” she huffs, throwing her head back. She rights herself and says, “Touch me. Please. Now. Anything, just touch me, for fucksake, I’m losing my mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Terrible. Let me help you find your focus.” With nimble fingers, he reaches down between her legs. “What was it you said? My touch.” He presses his finger lightly to the seam of her and strokes along it, enough to give her a shiver but nowhere near enough for relief. She twists her hips toward his hand with a whine, desperate for more, but he’s already gone.

“My mouth,” he adds, bending down and preening at the sound of her sucking in her breath as he places an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh before righting himself.

“Or my cock,” he finishes, tilting his head to look her in the face as he takes himself in his own hand.

She gives her head a little shake, not understanding.

He grins wide. “You only get one. Ask for it.”

“Cock,” she says immediately. “Cock, please.”

Astarion can’t help the laugh that spills out of him at her eagerness. He takes her by the waist and pulls her up, spinning her around and nudging her back onto the mattress on her hands and knees. A shudder flows down her back and she arches deep, ready to take him. The pearl of her arousal is so swollen at this point that he can see it peeking from between her folds. Everything between her legs is flushed and shining with want, begging to be touched.

His mouth waters and he swallows it back before coming in close to stand just behind her, taking his cock in hand and barely, barely running the head over her clit.

“Please,” Ori blurts, almost a sob, and this time it sounds genuine. “I need you so badly, sweetheart, please. Wanted your cock all day. Gods, I’ll be good, please fuck me, please.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls as he lines himself up and pushes inside all the way to the hilt.

Ori’s hands slide over the sheets and she deepens her arch even further, crying out her relief and pressing herself back against him as hard as she can, rocking. His mind blanks in pure bliss, eyes rolling, and his body takes over, fucking firmly into her with abandon.

“Gonna be so good,” Ori cries out as she meets him thrust for thrust, fists bunched. “So good for you, promise, I… please, yes.”

“Beautiful brat,” he pants, giving her an open-handed swat on the arse.

Ori yelps and fucks back harder, grinding her clit against him. “Hells, again.”

He swats again and she goes hot and fluttering around him.

“Astarion,” she cries. “Astarion, gods.”

She comes in a languid wave over the length of him and he grunts and curls his body over hers, knee on the mattress as he rides through it.

“Again,” he huffs. He angles his hips to hit her sensitive spot and she howls at the sensation.

“Fucking hells,” she groans. “I don’t…”

Astarion reaches up a hand to cup her chin and lift it so he can put his mouth against her ear. “Good girls come on my cock twice. Again.”

She sounds out the building pressure in bleating little sobs, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of her eyes as he rolls deep inside her, his own end spiraling closer with every passing second.

“Again,” he whispers. “Again.”

Her second orgasm hits twice as hard, a supernova burst that leaves her voiceless, mouth round in a silent scream. An entire day’s worth of tension releases at once, the rush of it dripping from her.

Astarion closes his eyes and lets her pull the pleasure from him. He comes so hard his ears ring from it, tipping gloriously over to the other side and filling her still further until the place where they meet is a complete mess.

He stands there a long moment, listing to one side with his chest heaving, one foot flat on the floor and the other leg bent at the knee on the mattress.

They teeter.

And fall onto the bed in a tangle.

A long moment later, Astarion groans and mumbles, “Hope you learned your lesson.”

“Gonna do it again,” Ori mumbles in response. “So much.”

He wheezes out a laugh.

[zorosnavigator]

Timebomb fics rec

A lot of timebomb fics are hiding through a lot of CaitVi/JayVik tagged works on ao3 (while many are also CV orJV centric) so i made this rec post for everyone who dont want to spent 1 hour scrolling or missing some of them bc you're filtering other ships!! (sorry for the short summaries/ i didnt write my thoughts as thoughtfully as i would have liked because.yk.time and all. update chapter count/add of new fics every week)

AU/crossovers fics

Je t'aime (Je t'attends) 3 chapter, WIP.

Hunger games x Timebomb/Arcane, the way the system of the games from the og novels are mixed in the Arcane universe is really masterful, the writer dont lose too much time explaining it but you understand the dynamics of the 2 cities and the characters perfectly anyway.

Where would you be now ? by enaven 5/6 chapters, WIP.

family/modern AU, timebomb feels, Ekko and Jinx are Isha's parents, CaitVi are just silly aunts and i'll never stop recommending this fic

you're the best thing to ever happen to me (but also the worst thing to ever happen to me) by grey_toiletpaper ( @greytoiletpaper ) 3/8 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Timebomb inspired by 10 things i hate about you.

We Moved Into a Real House (a Wild Field Behind it) by smokesatellite 3/10 chapters. WIP. Rated T.

Modern AU, Timebomb roommates/friends to lovers, Isha is a foster kid...you know where this is going .. (Ekko as a nurse is not something i expected but its surprisingly good. Also the in law feud between Jinx and Cait is very funny)

s1 fics

Silco is less of an asshole

The Heart of Zaun by 1ts_Br1tney_B1tch 8/ chapters. WIP.

or: Silco try to rally the Firelights to his cause (in this case, Zaun - he's much more involved in doing better for his city than in the show) but of course they're bound to have some..tension between them, since they hate him - and Shimmer. (it has the good parent Silco tag so i'd say that all in all, this Silco is a little less...Silco than in Arcane, but manage to keep some of the bite he has in canon...) i only read 2 chapters, and what i can say is that it does a good job with the general cast, the interactions between Silco/Ekko-Firelights are believable, i think the one thing that could have weird me out is the way Silco is said to be 'proud' of the Firelights in the summary (for me 'pride' is something he'd reserve for Jinx yk?? anyway i stop the rambling) . The Timebomb relationship has more or less the same push and pull as in the show, with Ekko thinking about the girl Jinx used to be/ Ekko being a link to the past before Jinx and all that entail...so yeah, i'm loving it!

Powder doesnt become Jinx

The Alpha Command by typewriter_in_galaxy 13 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

ABO/Reverse AU where Powder doesnt become Jinx and is raised by Viktor, Ekko is taken in by Silco. btw i dont read a lot of abo fic (im very nickpick) but this one does every characters justice, and actually dwelve in depth in the abo universe.. (everything by typewriter is good to be honest, but my favorite thing is how they write Powder, who even when she doesnt become Jinx, is still shaped by a very violent world/trauma and it shows through her mental health issues and very, very low self worth/need to prove herself. )

everything's better with a friend by typerwriter_in_galaxy 7chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Timebomb centric rewrite of Arcane, Jinx is Powder, she doesnt fall under Silco's hand (or in his arms precisely), Ekko is Ekko, and 1, i need to hug Powder, 2 she deserves the world and 3 the characterization of everyone, everyone is so brillantly written and the timebomb relationship (damn even the CaitVi one too) oh, the timebomb of it all... they feel so, so real and it hurts, Powder's insecurities, her mental illness, her guilt, her need to prove herself but in same time she doesnt feel herself worth of anything (or anyone) good... just.read it. read it, because i just did, after like 2 years of not doing that and. im like mad bc why didnt i??? but in same time so grateful to just discover it now, taking my sweet little time reading it; it rewinded my brain its amazing, (like this work in another fandom, the first time i read this rebelcaptain's fic A Love song by skitzofreak - did i just linked it for you to read even tho its a timebomb rec post??? yes. yes i did. thats how much i love, adore, worship this one guys - so everything's better made me think a lot of this TB fic, and also of RC (the abandonment issues, thinking that you have to leave first before everyone leave you, Jyn and Powder damn).

Shattered Web by Firewolf2132 1 chapter. WIP. Rated M.

you know how everyone make the comparaison between Ekko and Miles?? well, the author found a way for Ekko transform into a spiderman that feels right in the arcane verse (end of act1) and damn its so good. Ekko slowly morphing and gaining his powers while everyone still have some focus on them (mostly Powder), but it still manages to keep the suspense of the fate of other characters. fabulous. author note: [I have seen so many comparisons between Ekko and Miles and a lot of fanart. So it felt that I had to do this. I can't promise future chapters right now (busy), but I am eager to see if this inspires any stories with a similar premise.]

S2 fanfics

fics covering Timebomb moments between ep 8 Ekko saving her /they painted each other and ep9

Go Back For Her by A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Ekko's pov -i only read 1 chapter - we see his thought's process on his relationship with Powder AU/ Jinx, and how he came to the conclusion he must go back to her. the moment where he help Jinx with his Z-drive comes a little differently than in ep8 (well, the aftermath) aaand another fic where Jinx's grief over Isha's death shatters me, the pain and the self loathing/blaming from Jinx really devastating.

I dont believe in God, but i believe you're my savior by mquesterminds One shot. Rated T

[summary: every time Ekko has to rewind time to stop Jinx it cuts to a different moment from throughout their love story because I'm allergic to happiness the moments covering their shared past really make their present 10 times sadder.]

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension by hallwayheart One shot. Rated M. i have nothing to say because i'm still processing what i just read.ty.

Fires That Were Set by ilophilia ( @ilophilia on tumblr) 1 chapter. WIP.

the conversation after Ekko helped Jinx in episode 8. Loved the banter, the emotions (the grief is there and its important to feel it but damn i want to hug them so bad). They tell each other what happened when Ekko was gone, and you feel the distance/the closeness, near intimacy building again and its beautiful..

Hope is a winged beast by Grey_ Unicorn 4 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

prepare you tissues because i was myself not ready for chapter 3 and the emotional wreck of Jinx processing her grief. but here we are.

fics from AU Powder pov/exchange between Jinx and AU Powder

what we left behind by re_dragon_rising 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated T.

Powder traverses to the og arcane universe 1 year after Ekko's visit. (the insight into her life after Ekko leaves is wholesome and also give the reader a glimpse of the Mylo/Claggor/Powder siblings dynamics + the impact of Vi's death on them. really great. a little sad too.)

The other Ekko by GrammarThyEnemy Oneshot. General audience.

Powder knows this Ekko is not her Ekko.

memento vivere by fuwaaa 1/2. WIP. General audience.

covering the AU episode, Powder knows something's up with Ekko.

See Ya On The Other Side by moth_dust 3/5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Powder also travel to the og universe.

these forgotten faces by whippindippin ( @whippindippin on tumblr too!) 6 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx and Powder body swap and its both the worst and best thing that could ever happen to either of them. great reading and their reaction on point.

Isha is alive

Astrantia by AelinCreativ ( @aelincreativ they're on tumblr too!) 5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

canon divergence where Ekko saves Isha. a lot of angst. but also a lot of happiness. so we can cry while smiling along with them. great. ty author!!

Ankle-Biter by darkfire1220 8/9 chapters, WIP. Rated M.

Isha is Jinx's biological daughter, Silco is a not so bad (grand) father, and their mother/daughter bond is one a the greatest thing ever. (very slowburn timebomb). Also Vi. i love you Vi.

post s2

we made our peace with weariness (and let it be) by The_FlamingTiger 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated M.

Ekko and Jinx reconnect in Bilgewater..(and Jinx goes to therapy. that too. its nice)

I don't believe in God (But I believe that you're my savior) by yeonatsu Oneshot, general audience.

Ekko is mourning.

this hunger for love won’t disappear by Amuria Oneshot, rated T.

Months after the battle for Piltover, Ekko begins to dream of Powder. He thinks it’s his grief playing tricks on him. She has different theory.

Francesca (Do You Think I'd Give Up?) by PoetProlific 2 chapters. WIP.

Ekko tries searching for Jinx...(with the help of Caitlyn, yep. and its well done, because I think Cait would help, for Vi. And i love how Ekko-Cait's dynamics might evolve because of this..)

So I met him there and told him I believe by ijustwanttoreadinpeace 3 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx begins a new life in Bilgewater but is forced to come back... (edit: be warned, this is now an orphan account so idk if there will be more chapters.)

all the 6 timebomb one shot by atabex (the other fics are not timebomb) they're all rated E and oh boy is it worth it. most of these oneshot are gut wrenching and do smut + characters so well... the most recent one is just Ekko and AU Powder ahem doing the boombayah on the rooftop, but yk, with bits of sad and tragedy here and there.

i'm a little ashamed i'm only adding it now but every TB os fics by @shroomystar is 🤌 nothing else to add because each one of them are good. so. (if you want the explicit one-shots it's here and if you prefer without, it's here )

[eggedbellies]

Thank @cyphlyncolours for this one! Title: All Bets are Off Wordcount: 3327 Kinks: breeding, oviposition, cum inflation, knotting, egg laying, bondage (?), breeding stocks, overstimulation Synopsis: Ashe (she/they) is a human on an alien planet. Hanging out in an alien bar and playing games sounds like great fun... until the bids are raised higher than before. If she wins, the prize is a great amount of money. If she loses, well... the breeding stocks always need a new body.

-

The sultry air in the Aura Rainforest was something that few humans enjoyed, but Ashe had found herself coming to enjoy. It wasn’t impossible to encounter other soft-skinned folks like herself in here, but it was definitely something rare. She liked how comfortable it was, in only the barest modicum of clothing, and the Selesians seemed to enjoy the novelty of seeing such an unusual creature in their midst. The human settlement nearby had been tolerated when they’d first landed; the reptillian locals were not huge in numbers, and friendly enough, even if it had taken some time for communication to be established. That was hundreds of years ago now, and Ashe was part of a generation that was long since settled… although interactions between the two communities was a little more distant than it really should have been.

Ashe, though? They’d never given a damn what was expected of her. The thick leafy foliage was part of the building; the air was heavy with moisture, and her crop top – barely containing her heavy chest - and light yoga pants were not enough to stop sweat dripping down her back. For the scaled creatures that were her friends and compatriots, it was clearly pleasant – they found her strange, soft nature to be fascinating. Eyes drifted around the space before settling back on the hand of cards she had. It sometimes made her think of saunas she’d seen on footage about Earth, and always enjoyed it…

The last few games had been disastrous; an upsetting shift in pace from Ashe’s previous luck. This game had been one she’d learnt here, on the very first, nervous visit – a friend had heard her talking about wanting to try some of the local delicacies, and had almost mockingly recommended Aura Rainforest. The silence that fell when she’d first stepped in, a half-dozen sets of slitted eyes turning to look, suspicion that spoke of perhaps some crueller visits in the past. Yet, upon learning what kind of person they were? Ashe had been accepted with open arms.

The game was fun, but tense; a little like poker, a little like chess, even if it was played from the compressed-leaf ‘cards’, able to tolerate the balmy temperatures. The pile of money in front of them, though, was drawing tension. The space around had a low chatter, but many eyes were fixed upon the two players. All the others had dropped previously, and now, it was only Ashe and her opponent – Manna. She was a stunning creature, truly. Six foot two, glossy green and gold scales with touches of warm copper, brilliant orange eyes. She reminded Ashe of images she’d seen of cobras; the way her natural head shape flared out like a hood or even long hair… her own brunette locks felt unremarkable in comparison.

She was also the owner of Aura Rainforest, and one of the most skilled N’ic players that Ashe had ever faced off against.

“Damnit.” the human sighed, sitting back slightly, dropping her cards down in front of her. “I concede. I don’t have anything else to bid.” “Hmm…” Manna’s voice was as warm as the air, and she smiled in that languid way the reptillians had. “There is something else you could raise…” she murmured. “One more game. If you win, all this…” she gestured a clawed hand down at the pile. That was a good amount of money – enough to cover her rent for the month, at least. Brows drew in, trying to consider what was being suggested right now – before the black claw pointed across the room. Ashe turned, and her eyes settled on – ah. ‘The Stocks’, she’d heard them called, although they weren’t like any stock they’d ever seen before in their history docs.

It wasn’t a structure designed to hold the wrists and neck, no – it was something entirely different, something she’d rarely seen used but – there was a deep throb of heat that sunk straight to her core. Maybe, as Ashe looked back around, she saw Manna’s nostrils flare – but she could have imagined that, surely? “One night.” she said, with a grin, “Anything goes. I won’t let anyone hurt you, of course – standard rules would apply.” Yes, Ashe had seen that before – although never taking too close a look, just in case, not wanting to seem overly interested – that little translator in their brain working to shift the words to something she could understand. No hurting, no suffering, nothing overly… permanent. But, still… that was a hell of a thing to gamble on… eyes drifted back to the money. She remembered the last time they’d seen a body in the stocks… the moaning and gasping from the monitoresque Selesian as she’d been fucked hard, over and over… maybe… maybe the risk was worth it.

“You’ve got it. Deal me in.” she said, giving a grin that Manna reflected back, gesturing casually for the cards to be shuffled and redealt. As each one appeared, she inhaled slowly, well aware that every eye in the space was fixated on the game. She lifted the hand up, staring – trying everything she could to not reveal just what her eyes were fixing on. Impossible. There was only one hand in the game that could possibly beat this. Her own blue irises flicked up, focusing, don’t give it away… the tension held between them, then, finally -

“Marshall.” Manna declared. Ashe’s heart lifted, and she beamed, slapping down her own glimmering purple hand - “Full basilisk.” she declared, sure that Manna had overreached, but the snake was smiling, wider now, and that delight twisted to fear as - “Good hand, Ashe. But …” she laid her own down. “White sail.” “What? No! That’s – how?!” Ashe jolted to her feet, hands on the countertop. Manna began to laugh, throwing her head back before she stood, moving to the human’s side. “Looks like you have a night with us.” she whispered, just the faintest hint of a hiss in her tone. There was laughter all around, now, the rest of the bar delighted at her failure.

“Let me get you a drink.” Manna murmured, “You’re going to want it.” they waved at the bartender; a moment later a shimmering shot was laid in front of her. They stared at it for a moment, knowing just what that was; something she’d never tried, because it was expensive and – well -

“Are you sure?” Ashe murmured. There was a ripple of laughter in return; Manna nodded, leaning in her face close to the back of the human’s head, breath surprisingly warm for a mostly cold blooded creature… reaching out, her fingers caressed the cool sides of the glass before throwing it back. The ‘venom’ shot was made with – well – venom, from a particular species of Selensian – it was rare, and the price came from more than just how hard it was to obtain. Almost immediately, a new kind of heat was suffusing Ashe’s body, making her gasp.

“I always wondered just how it might work on a human.” Manna murmured, and now her slender hands were sliding over Ashe’s hips, then up – scooping under her crop top then the bra, cupping her heavy breasts. Ashe gasped roughly – her hips ground back instinctively, pressing against the growing bulge in her pants. There was more laughter, rising, but seeming so very unimportant in comparison to the throbbing heat building in her own crotch, the wetness soaking through her tight fitting pants. Those cool, unexpectedly soft scaled hands were massaging her now, rubbing over her nipples with a fascination that could only come from someone who didn’t have them. Then the fabric was being pulled from over her head, baring her in front of the entire group.

She found she didn’t mind.

Now the hands were slipping down, into the edges of her pants. Everything was becoming blurry beyond the desperation growing between her legs. As they were led through the bar towards the ‘stocks’, hands reached out to caress the soft skin, stroking her and fondling her, a whisper of what was to come…

There was a soft pad here; they’d never noticed before. But, well – they’d never been on this side of it before, after all. She let them lay her forward. There was a thick bar that settled over her hips, holding her in place, a deep soft curve in the ground, surprisingly comfortable as it was locked into place. There was a hand gripping their ass, stroking over the curve it, tantalisingly close to her desperate, aching hole…

Then something soft was pressing her clit, rubbing against it – she squirmed, bucking, letting out a loud moan.

“You know the rules!” she hissed at someone unknown. “I get first breeding. You lot get to go after. Remember – two drink minimum to use the fucktoy!” and there was a roar of laughter, the clatter of the bar picking up, and then – oh, God, yes – yes – sweet relief – there was something sinking into her. It was surprisingly slender and cool compared to the burning emptiness that was Ashe’s body right now, the venom making every nerve alive. Manna dug her claws into the bits of Ashe’s hips that she could reach.

“You’re such a wet toy. Oh… we need to find more humans to test this venom on. Or maybe it’s just you. I saw the way you looked at it when I raised that bet… I bet you wanted to be here, didn’t you? Wanted to have everyone in this bar lay their eggs in you? You’re very lucky… I can see Snaa is looking at you. We’ll have to let her go last… when you’re all fucked open and ready for that monster, hm?” she laughed again, and the noises made her tremble inside, Ashe clenching around her member. It was just like Manna. Strong, long, slim but irresistible as it drove into her. Over and over, rough, uncaring almost, yet it felt like bliss.

She was getting closer, now, so close, feeling the liquid heat building and building, thrumming into her centre. There – there – and – no – Manna was pulling away, thick strands of cum still drooling from the tip of her cock. “I could’ve given you my clutch… but no. I want to wait until you’re a little more broken, pet.” she slapped Ashe firmly across the rear, and the human clenched, moaning wantonly. Her hands dug into the padding below her, breasts scraping against the soft material… her whole body twitched hungrily, still feeling that throb that was now dancing away, only --

“Ah -” the moan escaped her throat – Manna was still hovering nearby, but there was someone new lining up. Something thick and surprisingly blunt slid slowly down the crack of their ass, rounded and textured. It was so different from the owner’s slender tool, but – surely this wasn’t Snaa’s cock? They knew her – she was the komodo who sat in the back corner, downing huge jugs of the simmered palm ‘beers’, some kind of labourer with a beautiful muscular set of arms and oh, god, she was being split in half, this couldn’t be Snaa but what if it was already? They’d never be the same again. It felt so good; they were so slick and hot compared to the blunt, unstoppable intrusion…

“Fuck!” Ashe cried out as she came, clenching, yet the cock slipped all the way in, and the high laughter above her wasn’t Snaa’s, no. It was hard to think beyond just how full she felt, each ponderous thrust slow, steady, driving all the way in then nearly all the way out. Pre was drooling into their body, doubled up on the slick from Manna’s first filling, and then – oh – oh, they were moving faster, rougher. Each blow all the way in rocked her in the ‘stock’, whining and drooling into the padding. She truly was a toy, being used, the venom making her blood sing and body shimmer all over… a bliss that she didn’t imagine she’d ever feel again.

Somehow, that cock was getting thicker. At the base now, swelling – bigger – they couldn’t move even if they hadn’t been held. Twitching, pulsing, almost squirming where it was packed into her tunnel. Each pulse of cum had nowhere to go but in, the knot preventing anything slipping out. Ashe howled, then babbled, hearing the rising and falling of laughter and excited talking. Someone carressed her face, tilting her head up as if to check she was still alive. Her belly was aching – she’d never felt so full. Then there was a soft hand on that too, rubbing it – they could feel how it hung, packed with cum, into the scaled palm. Manna was talking, laughing, and the idea that she might be proud of just how well Ashe was taking the breeding… it sent another tremble of pleasure through them, making them clench again.

“Oh, it liked that.” a deep voice rumbled, and she finally realised it was Kroak. They had been knocked out in the first round of the game, entirely unable to hold anything like a poker face, but clearly didn’t seem to be all that disappointed. “Rub it again.” then that hand was pressing against her swollen womb and she was howling as she came once more, panting, gasping. “It’s like she was made for this.” “You’ve had your turn, pet. Move on.” slowly, the cock slipped out of her. The balmy air was cold for a moment against her swollen, open cunt; then there was another slipping inside. She let out a breathless little whimper, legs trembling against the sensation. It wasn’t bigger, but it was so ridged, lumpy and pressing in just the right places against their twitching, spread tunnel. She dug her nails into the padding again, realising through the fog just what the curve below her was for now. Oh, God. This had barely begun, hadn’t it? Her mind drifted; just a mess of pleasure, legs shaking, knowing that if they even tried to stand now, they wouldn’t be able to take their own weight. Another knot – yet more cum, unstoppable, as she came and howled and thrashed and their belly filled with the thick seed…

“Now, my dear… sip this.” Manna murmured, gently holding a glass to their sweaty lips. Ashe sipped, expecting more venom, but no – it was just water. Sweet and cool and fresh. “You’re doing so very well. Not too many left now, but…” she chuckled, reaching down to cradle her breasts, stroking over the rock hard nipples. Ashe whimpered, tender, squirming. “Well. All that cum sloshing around in you… isn’t it about time we got you some proper young, hm? Can’t waste it, after all.”

“Wha..?” Ashe mumbled, so lost in the sensations that they could barely register. Then there was another cock splitting them open, sinking in. Slow. Almost gentle, as if knowing how sore she was. They began to rock, bouncing her against them, then rougher, clawed hands adding to the marks on her butt. They added scratches, too, scraping into that flesh. Making it clear that they belonged to the patrons… it sent another tingle through their body, clenching, whimpering…

“Good toy.” the gruff voice whispered, and they laughed, “Good, good. Give in to it. We all know you wanted to be our breeding.” breaking off with a moan, there was that swelling. Different now, though – not quite a knot. Hips rolled. The lumps shifted. The starfish at the tip was flaring open, pressing into her cervix, and yet Ashe could barely feel it – no pain, only pressure leaning into pleasure. The eggs were thick, oblong, bigger than a Chabbit’s – slowly spreading the tip until it deposited into the pool of slick that filled them. A keening whimper escaped Ashe’s face, and that cool hand gently stroked her sweat-soaked features. Yes… she was doing well, wasn’t she? Oh… they would all be so happy with Ashe…

“Made to be a pet.” Manna murmured. “Might be something in that, sweetness. Oh…” she pressed a thumb to Ashe’s lower lip, and without hesitation the human pulled it in, near enough suckling on it, pupils blown wide… “Good. Good.”

The eggs continued to slip inside her, rounding that belly out further. Now the curved padding below was struggling to support her burgeoning frame. They moaned weakly against the thumb… more, more eggs… bigger, fuller… a low whimper of disappointment when that cock slipped from her hole. The last, of course, as promised, was Snaa. Huge, clumping her way towards them, wasting no time. It didn’t matter that she was rough – Ashe was so fucked open they could barely register anything beyond pleasure. Pounding against her cervix, pushing deep into her. Rough, wet slaps – the exhausted patrons cheering as Snaa pulled hard enough to loosen the lock on the stocks. Manna exclaimed a warning, but the night’s abuse and the powerful pounding – there was a clunk as it pinged open. Wasting no time, her thick hands wrapped all the way forward, grasping Ashe’s tits. They massaged them roughly, then those digits gripped her by the torso and lifted her up. Belly dangling, Ashe cried out, a weak howl as she was hefted like a sleeve.

Up and down, belly bouncing even with how tight and full it was. The clutch didn’t waste time – the eggs just as hefty as the creature releasing them. Each pushed sunk another inside her, bulging visibly on her front. A half dozen later, and the clutch was done; Manna lurching forward to help take Ashe’s weight and stop the human being dumped on the floor like a wet paper towel.

“Good girl.” Manna whispered, stroking a hand over her cheek. “Let’s get you out back and laying down, hm? I think you’ve earnt some sleep…”

--

She woke with a lurch.

It was cooler out here; the soft silky fabric of the couch below her. Ashe tried to sit up, then moaned. Her whole body felt utterly fucked out, sticky and sore. But beyond that, was another sensation. A low aching thrum. A pressure. Unresistable. Oh, fuck – the eggs had gone in. Now they were fertile, and … -- “Ah, yes. Humans. You’re so quick. Up to you if you’re lucky or not.” Manna was lounging against the wall, arms folded, completely naked, her tail curling languidly on the ground. “If you were like us, pet, you’d have to waddle around that for at least a week. Relax. Lean back. Enjoy it. I promise it’s going to feel ever so good.” she chuckled, moving closer. Ashe cried out again. Her overworked clit twitched. There was a throb, a hint of pain, and then heat rushed down through her tunnel. Liquid dripped; the eggs were moving. It stretched her out, but nowhere near as much as Snaa had. More leathery than she’d expected. Thankfully her body seemed to know what to do, rippling clenches and pushes… the first egg plopped wetly out of her. Manna was kneeling next to her now, stroking her cheek.

“Good pet. Good, good pet.” she murmured, low and syllibant, right by her ear. Ashe cried out and tried to buck, but her body was too heavy. No – there was no stopping this. Another egg, then another, until each was right on the tail of the prior. They whimpered, feeling fresh sweat dripping down their neck. “You know… I think you’re a natural.” she whispered, tenderly. “Let’s get these eggs out of you, and then, well… I know you don’t like your job, Ashe. How about considering becoming the permanent stress relief for the bar?” Manna chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve made this much in months after all.” she paused. Ashe moaned, squeezing, the egg slowly slicking loose then popping out onto the others. “Maybe I’ll wait until you can think past that big belly of yours, mm?” they murmured, patting the swell. Ashe howled – and came again, as yet another egg escaped...

[thedemonofcat]

“Dandelion!”

“I actually go by ‘Jaskier’ now,” the fairy said from where he lounged atop a giant mushroom. He rolled over to look down at the white-haired witcher. “What do you want? I haven’t even been in the human realm for years.”

The witcher replied, “I know. I don’t come to slay you. I’m here to bargain. Your bargains are known to be fair.”

Jaskier sighed, rolling his shoulders and fluttering his wings. “You see, this is why I left the human realm. Everyone wants to make deals. Why does everything have to be about deals?”

“I’ve brought treasures.” The Witcher continued, ignoring Jaskier’s point. “Take any of them. Take all of them. I just need twelve hours of uninterrupted, restful sleep.”

That ignited Jaskier’s interest. He rolled off the mushroom and soared down to look at the witcher properly.

Wow. He did look worse for wear. Jaskier almost couldn’t appreciate how beautiful his eyes were because of how bloodshot they were.

“Oh, you poor dear. You do need rest. Such a thing is easy for me to grant. So much so that I’d feel guilty taking your treasures. I’ll just ask for a little kiss instead.

Although Jaskier thought his offer was quite generous, the witcher balked.

Well, “there’s no need to be rude!”

“Sorry,” the witcher mumbled. “I just haven’t before.”

“Oh?” Jaskier said, and then he understood. “Oh! I did not mean to be so bold as to ask for your virtue.”

The witcher honest-to-gods blushed and grumbled, “not a virgin.”

“But you are a tad innocent,” Jaskier teased.

The witcher stuck out his hand, saying, “I accept your deal.”

Being the gentleman he was, Jaskier took the gloved hand and brought it to his lips. The magic of the deal burst to life the moment his lips brushed against black leather. “Sleep well, darling.”

Because he was a soft touch, Jaskier caught the suddenly sleeping witcher and even carried him back to his steed (lovely girl. Very protective, but she was smart enough to not try to bite Jaskier until Geralt was sleeping beside her).

Jaskier assumed he would never see the witcher again.

He was proven wrong.

Jaskier thought he’d been careful—at least, careful enough. But somehow, he’d still ended up in human hands.

"Let me go!" Jaskier shouted, yanking futilely at the iron chain clamped around his ankle. His wings beat desperately, but he couldn’t get far.

"Now, I may have exaggerated a bit about the ‘monster problem,’” came the smooth, smug voice of his captor from the other side of the door. “I don’t need you to kill anything, Witcher. Just to help me... train my new pet."

A key turned in the lock, and as soon as the door cracked open, Jaskier lunged. His hands missed the nobleman by inches, but he did manage to snatch a feathered quill from his belt.

"Bad!" the nobleman yelped, yanking the chain to pull Jaskier back. "I do apologize—”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the scene before him; he’d expected a standard job, but this was anything but. "You captured a fae," he said, voice low with warning. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

[captain-joongz]

Space for two

Pairing: demon!Kim Taehyung x f!reader

Genre: smut, both angsty and fluffy, dark themes, positive ending, historical au (maybe like 18/early 19th century Joseon)

Summary: Trapped in a marriage arranged by our families, married to a cold, uncaring man and taking care of a farm in the middle of nowhere, I had sunken to the lowest lows. Aware of my husband's gambling habits and love for brothels that often kept him from home, I'd gotten used to the feeling of falling asleep in a cold, empty bed. But that changed one day, when an uninvited guest made himself quite at home and brought with him warm touches and scorching dreams. Gentleness coming from the one least expected may just be the push into the right direction.

Word count: 25.4k

Warnings: some dark themes, demon Taetae (he's a sweetie though), he's messing with the reader a little tho, he does have some slight yandere vibes, themes of depression and loneliness, infidelity, a shitty husband, some themes and mentions of domestic violence and verbal abuse (at one point the husband grabs her by the hair, throws stuff around the house), mentions of death and murder

NSFW warnings: slightly dubcon-ish (at first he visits her dreams), reader is inexperienced and embarrassed, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint really hard, wet dreams, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, handjob, unprotected sex (it's joseon :// you be careful out there), some slight breeding kink, half clothed sex

A/N: super late but finally here!! i'm sorry for all the delays, but this just kept getting longer and longer and i had to juggle it between schoolwork, but i hope it is worth the wait! this is actually based on a korean folklore story of prince cheoyong, which i explain in the end notes so i don't spoil anything hehe

I was preparing the food in silence, the only sounds in the room the clanking of my knife on the cutting board and slight bubbling in the pot over the fire. It was winter and so I kept the doors leading to the yard closed, but I still heard the thuds of my husband chopping firewood, the dull thumps of the wood hitting the ground, the swish of his axe in the air.

I was already well used to this, to the silence of this place.

It was a quiet that could only come from unhappiness and spite, the kind that made you feel lonely and desolate, knowing the only other person around rather chose to not speak than engage with you. It was what I had come to know very well in here.

I had found myself married quite abruptly. It was a little over a year ago, when a messenger from the Ryu family of the neighbouring village arrived at our door. My father accepted him, but didn’t speak of what the meeting was about, which raised some suspicions between the women of the family. I was the second child of the family and the eldest of the daughters, and way past the age when women of my standing usually married. It felt like we all knew what it would come to.

My unmarried status was a bit of a controversial story around these parts.

I wouldn’t call our family exactly disgraced, but we weren’t at the full glory the Kangs used to stand at, back in the days of my great great great great-grandfather, who built the family into a considerable fortune, but whose grandson to the family’s great embarrassment failed the gwageo examinations several times and couldn’t secure an official position. The family had tried to bribe their way into the office, but the local official came from a family that had been feuding with ours for a few generations, over something that was no doubt petty and no longer relevant. He basked in the desperation of our family and wished for nothing more than to see them crash and burn, thus if we couldn’t secure a position through the examinations, he wouldn’t allow any bribery in order to destroy our clan.

The embarrassment continued as neither his son, nor his grandson were able to pass the qwageo and our family was stripped of our title. We had been living on the rapidly thinning fortune, trying to keep some sort of decorum, but feeling the full force of shame the other inhabitants from our area showed towards us. To them, we were pathetic. Just some thirty years ago we were strolling through these streets as if we owned them and now, disgraced and quickly running out of options, here we were – on the same level as them.

My father was able to break the family curse by starting a successful shop with trinkets, toys and other useful little devices, which allowed us to stay afloat money-wise, but cast us further into shame, considering our family had once been part of the yangban class and thus weren’t supposed to work. Even if disgraced, rules applied to us, and we were a great embarrassment to those who we used to call friends and allies.

The curse was further broken when father in his quite advanced age managed to pass the gwageo and got a spot in local office. He pushed my younger brothers into studies, as his pride never took this situation lightly. He was brought up to be an aristocrat, but here he was, working his days away like a commoner. In the end, his obsession was fruitful when two of my three brothers also passed their examinations and entered into civil duty, one striving for the office and one for the military service. The middle son, who struggled with his studies, was put in charge of the shop where he excelled.

As such, we were suddenly catapulted back into our previous standing, after several generations of disgrace, after struggling financially and fighting for survival every month, we were back to walking the streets with our chins held high, wrapped from head to toe in silk.

And that’s where the controversy about my marriage started.

As most young people, I had been promised and engaged to a young boy from a different neighbouring village. Due to the fact that we lost our title, I couldn’t strive for marriage withing the yangban class – after all, social standing was inherited after the mother, so I couldn’t be more than a concubine since I would curse my child with low social status. But that would be a hit to my father’s pride. Therefore he rather engaged me to a son of a lower middle class trader. To them, I was someone of a better status as they had never received a title, and my family would expand their funds.

But then several things happened all almost at once.

We regained our status, thus our marriage in my father’s eyes was no longer appropriate, even though finding someone from the yangban who would want me to marry their son would be nigh impossible. He demanded the breaking of the engagement, which was something the society looked down upon, especially since he had sealed the deal years ago. The two families started feuding, the trader now even more eager to secure me for them, and my father with his regained confidence insisting upon marriage to someone “of our class”. And during this time, the boy fell ill and promptly died.

Since we were engaged, I now was to be considered his widow even though we hadn’t had our wedding, but my father insisted that the engagement was broken off and I had no such obligation. The trader of course claimed the complete opposite and demanded we go through with everything as was arranged. The people in the area, even if they followed the drama between the two families closely and listened to gossip religiously, they themselves couldn’t tell who was telling the truth. Our engagement had been in place for years, but it was also widely known that my father has changed his mind and demanded for the wedding to be off.

In the eyes of some I was free to marry, but some viewed me as a young widow, a ghost bride, and thus I couldn’t find another husband unless I wanted to bring huge shame on the family and reap cosmic consequences. But most simply disliked my father for his underhanded tactics and newfound arrogance.

But this situation had made the question of my marriage impossible to solve. It was already unlikely that a match of my father’s expectations would be willing to take me as a first wife and honour me as such, since the yangbans looked down on us heavily, and now I had become tarnished goods in the eyes of potential suitors. My family still tried desperately to pawn me off to someone, but we had turned into a huge joke between the families in the area and I was doomed. Some even started to view me as a cursed woman, touched by black magic, that would bring death to any man who would want to marry me, and that was a final nail in the coffin of my marriage.

But my father wouldn’t give up so easily. He still had something that many desired enough to risk a curse on their family – money and power.

Thus, when the messenger had come and father refused to divulge any information about the nature of the meeting, the wives and daughters that had amassed in our house over the years all whispered about a potential engagement. I thought it was possible, but it was probably for one of my younger sisters. I was wrong.

The Ryu family used to be a powerful local aristocracy, but over the last few generations they had fallen considerably. Their disgrace wasn’t as openly talked about as ours, even though they were the centre of some mean-spirited jokes, however they had one powerful advantage. They didn’t lose their title, just most of their money. While their children still could live their lives telling everyone they were yangbans, they didn’t have the money to uphold the lifestyle. Only one of their sons had an office and it wasn’t enough to keep the whole extended family afloat. There were rumours of gambling, addiction and unwise spending, which were the most probable factors in their fall.

They knew no one self-respecting would marry their children, who were all pushed into working for their livelihood, and they couldn’t marry under their standing lest the children lose their status. That’s when they came up with the bright idea to get into talks with our family.

My father didn’t waste any time. For him, this was perfect – the right class, family with still some respect left intact, he had enough money, so he didn’t mind striking a business deal with the mostly impoverished family and I was used to working, as I had also grown up before our rise. It was just the perfect deal.

From the moment I had first heard about it, it was barely two months before I found myself fully engaged and a week away from a wedding to a man I’d never met before. He was the second son; he had a house on the foot of the mountain a little further away from the town that was the heart of this area. It would take some travelling, but still remained close enough to keep close ties.

Our wedding ceremony was brief and awkward, a lot of stilted conversation and pretend joy, while my mother and sisters all gathered around me in silent support. I saw their sad and worried eyes, the graveness of their usually more cheerful voices, the barely masked sympathy they looked at me with when I interacted with my stone-faced husband. Marriage was something I had since long made peace with, after all it is what every woman has to face at some point in her life, so I had just squeezed their hands and smiled at them gently, whispered words of assurance and prepared myself for the long journey to my new home.

I had soon found out he was a cold quiet man, rough and unhappy. Most of the time he wouldn’t address me with much more than grumbling complaints, cross when I tried to speak to him, when I asked him questions or requested something to be bought, turning away from me and rather spending time tending to his house and to his animals.

I was suddenly confined to a few rooms within an unwelcoming dark house, knitting or sewing or cooking, trying to lose myself in the mindless tasks of caring for a man and a household instead of dwelling on the growing despair in the pit of my stomach. Since then the situation between us has considerably worsened, but I found that the angrier he grew with me, the less he wanted to see me and the more he avoided me, which had begun to bring me relief. I was lonely and I did feel abandoned, but it was better than surviving in the same room as him.

I had gotten used to the air of gloom hanging over this dwelling.

My hand reached over for another carrot and found none, and I startled myself out of reminiscing. The vegetables were cut and the stew was boiling vigorously, so I busied myself with finishing. The sounds of chopping wood have ceased and I could no longer hear any traces of my husband’s presence.

Curious, I opened the door and peeked outside. The bitter coldness of the air immediately bit into my face and I shuddered, my body shocked by the sudden freezing temperatures when it was so warm from the kitchen fire. Looking over the yard, I didn’t see the hulking form of the man I’d come to live with, but I did see his fresh footprints in the snow leading towards the pig sty. Satisfied I walked back in and closed the door again. Rubbing my hands on my arms and cheeks I hurried back to the pot to warm up.

Soon the sun would go down and night would fall, so he was tending to the pigs for the last time tonight, making sure they had everything, which gave me a little more time to finish up dinner.

Some maybe half hour later the door finally opened roughly and he made his way in wordlessly. There were wet footprints on the floor left behind and a puddle was slowly gathering as melted snow dripped from his coat. I bit my tongue and said nothing, just pulled out the table and started setting it for dinner.

No words were traded and yet the atmosphere chilled considerably, the mood dropping low along with the sun on the horizon. We sat down, we ate in silence. Once he was done, he again got up, put a fresh coat on and was out of the door before I could even wish him a good night.

I used to ask where he was going, but there was no longer any need for that. He spent his evenings and nights in the same place every day, it was a habit that must have started a little before our betrothal. He had found himself some new friends from the town, friends that very happily spent most of their time playing cards, smoking opium, drinking and crawling from brothel to brothel.

Around the time of our wedding, he only joined them a few nights of the week and usually came back in the middle of the night. Back then I saw it as a problem and oftentimes tried to dissuade him from throwing away money this way. His family lost all they had because their young lord lived this exact lifestyle, it was foolish for him to fall down the same trap, but it was a frequent cause of arguments between us and the more I pushed for him to not go out and spend so much money, the more he wanted to. Gradually he went more often, came back later, until I had started waking up to an untouched, unslept in bed.

But I do have to admit that nowadays I saw it more as a relief that he never spent his nights home, even if that meant our already hard-to-come-by money was being thrown out the window like it was nothing. I’d come to prefer spending time alone.

I cleaned up after dinner and started preparing myself for bed. The ritual of changing clothes, brushing out my hair and smoothing out the bedding on the mats was helping me calm down every evening, but tonight I couldn’t find rest for some reason. While I sat on the floor and carefully brushed my hair, the house felt chillier than usual and I kept hearing soft creaks from the outside as if someone was walking around on the porch. It’s just the wind and the frost, it must be.

Unsettled I lost the battle with myself and went to look out into the yard. The moment I got near the door, suddenly a gust of chilling wind bust the door open and I screamed with shock, covering my naked arms to shield them from the frost. Immediately I jumped towards the door to close it back up, not before looking out into the yard and the forest beyond the walls of our house. There was a full moon hanging over us in the night sky and its light allowed me to see everything with startling ease, casting an eerie silver glow over the murmuring trees. I quickly shut the door and sat back down to help my heart calm down, as it was beating so hard I feared it might tear right out of my ribcage.

After I laid down, it took me a long moment to settle down enough for sleep to start licking at my consciousness. I kept startling myself with every crack and every hum of the wind outside and the fright from before still coursed through my veins, making me shiver and trying to persuade me there was something wicked hiding behind the darkness, lurking in every corner and waiting for an unguarded moment.

But somewhere along the way I did nod off and when I woke up in the morning, I was certain the strong arms that at some point found their way around my waist and pulled me into a warm wide chest were nothing more than a dream. An embarrassing dream that just spoke of my sombre solitude.

In the first months of our marriage, much to my chagrin, Minhwan practiced his marital rights almost nightly. Some nights he would return late from his outings with friends and immediately roll over on me and demand I submit. I did of course, it was expected of me and I was well aware of that. I had been taught that.

But over the course of several months, the frequency of such encounters lessened as I wasn’t getting pregnant, until we no longer even spoke to each other and his side of the bed became permanently unoccupied.

Of course, there was a simple, and really the only, reason for my introduction into this family – a child. A son. That was the end-goal of this union and the purpose for my existence in their eyes. After I had failed to fall pregnant despite months of effort, the man I married who already wasn’t very kind to me slowly turned into someone crueller, angrier. I could see the frustration taking over him until he completely lost himself in the rage at my uselessness.

He couldn’t divorce me, even though my inability to bear him an heir would be a legitimate reason. His family was already teetering on the edge of respectability, and this would make them the laughing stock of the town, since they definitely wouldn’t be able to find him another bride. That was because of the other issue. Money. They bought me with what last they had left and if divorced they would not only lose my father’s protection and financial help, but also wouldn’t be able to scrounge up enough money to buy another woman, if they even found one that was willing.

Minhwan knew that, knew that he couldn’t get rid of me, and even though his status would allow him to take a second wife or even a concubine, he couldn’t afford them. What little he had he gambled away and spent on girls in the red district; and not much was left for actually running the household and keeping us alive. No self-respecting family would let their daughter enter a family like that and women who were after money and status wouldn’t find anything here. And if he had an illegitimate son from a kisaeng, he could hardly bring it here and claim him as an heir, his father would never let him disgrace the bloodline like that.

Thus in his eyes I was worse than useless. I was his doom, a wasted effort that only pushed him further down and he no doubt felt that the best thing I could do for him was to die, so he could remarry. That’s why I preferred when he didn’t return home for the nights. Living alongside such pure hatred was draining.

When I was sitting by the mirror in the morning, I had just heard him return home. I opened the door a crack and peeked outside, just catching his eye as he was changing into fresher clothes. He held the contact for a few beats of my wild heart and then looked away.

“Breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not even forming a full sentence, while still looking away from me. I followed his gaze and found it stuck to the door leading into kitchen. I sighed quietly, making sure he couldn’t hear me lest he gets angry with my insolence.

“I will prepare it in a second,” was my short answer. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, the less I said the better. Thus my morning routine had to be cut short. Walking past him, I was suddenly bombarded with the smell of smoke, stale alcohol and cheap perfume and powder. The stench was a bit too strong for my queasy morning stomach and I felt it roll a few times, threatening to spill even though it was empty. I subtly covered my nose and busied myself into the kitchen smelling pleasantly of food and spices. This room has become my refuge. I knew he wouldn’t overstep here, this was my domain and I felt at least a semblance of power in here.

As distracted as I was, I kept finding my tools in places where I didn’t leave them in. I would turn around and suddenly my spoon would be laying two paces further into the room then I remembered leaving it. I told myself I was just tired, I was feeling unnerved by my husband’s hulking presence on the doorstep of the room, watching me prepare porridge as if fearing I’d poison him if he’d look away for a moment, I was still flustered by my dreams and nervous from the scare the night before. Surely it was that.

That day I spent mostly inside, sitting by a dying fire trying to mend broken and torn clothes, worn thin by hard labour and years of wear, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unsettlement that has been plaguing me since yesterday’s evening.

By the time the night fell and Minhwan left again, I found myself quite anxious to be left alone in the cold house, still feeling like a presence was glued to my side, invisible and watching me, but every time I would look over my shoulder, I’d find an empty room. Before settling down to sleep, I walked out and checked the courtyard again, and just like the previous evening, it was illuminated by a silver light so brightly it was almost shocking.

I looked to the sky and was stunned by the giant full moon hanging over my head. The night was calm, much calmer then yesterday, no wind shaking the trees and the only sound was the distant cawing of a bird. The white snow reflected the night sky and blinded me, but not enough to not notice the stark contrast of pitch black footsteps disrupting the otherwise clean coat over the ground. I could see their path clearly, leaving the house and disappearing behind the gate, and they filled me with gentle sadness. With my mind off of the ghost of a feeling that’s been following me the whole day, I made my way back inside to sleep. But I wasn’t prepared for what the night had prepared for me.

As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I felt the mat and bedding shifting as another body laid down next to me. I had fully accepted it, not questioning the arms making their way around my waist and pulling me into a warm hug. It felt as a very clear dream, and I found myself fighting to open my eyes to see, but instead chose to sink into the comfortable atmosphere. There was a hum behind me, but the voice was so deep and pressed so close to me it almost felt like a purr. Non-consciously I answered with my own, drifting with the current. I fooled myself into this, so desperately needing to feel a nice touch that I didn’t even want to think about why somewhere deep down I felt alarmed and unsettled at the situation. I buried that away and let the hands run along my sides, basked in the quiet humming somewhere right behind my ear and the warmth it filled me with.

When I woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming open and heavy steps and sighs. I was confused for a few moments, subconsciously searching for the comfort I had felt in my sleep, only to be hit with a wave of embarrassment and mortification. I had been dreaming again, imagining inappropriately a stranger’s presence in my bed, hoping for a touch and comfort of man’s hands.

I felt the blush spill over my face just as the door to the bedroom flew open and my husband found my gaze. I saw suspicion in his eyes, most probably not used to seeing me in such a flustered state and questioning what could stand behind it. His eyes shifted subtly over the room as if looking for a hidden lover and in my mind I chuckled. He dragged me away into the woods, and living in the middle of nowhere and not allowed to leave the house without him or an attendant I couldn’t afford, how could I have possibly found a lover? No one came here and I went nowhere, the only company I knew was the animals and a warm fire, a needle and a thread and worn books, I couldn’t take the same liberties he has been taking for a better part of our marriage.

When Minhwan made sure I was completely alone, just as he left me, he looked back to me and asked for breakfast. That broke the strange silence and I was thrown right back into the routine of my normal days.

Over the following few nights, the dream kept coming back to me, but every time the unknown man in my fantasy went a little further. More often than not I found myself waking up with a start, blushing red from head to toe at the daring hands that kept straying more and more south, embarrassed with myself but also not wanting them to stop before I had the chance to experience whatever my subconscious wanted to grant me.

At first, his hands would only lightly caress along my side, as if trying to console me and help me sleep peacefully, while he hummed along some kind of a lullaby behind me. Everything always felt pleasantly fuzzy and I’d come to think of him as my dream guardian. My days, in comparison, felt dull and sad, and I’d found some sort of peace in these dreams.

But soon, the direction started to change. The hands strayed lower onto my thighs, grabbing the flesh lightly and teasingly, or going over my stomach until they were right under where my breasts were. I could feel him pressed closer to me too, his front moulded around my back, shoulders caging me in, the sweet humming slowly turning into something more akin to satisfied purring, causing me to flush red and a rush of excitement to flow through my veins. He always laid behind me and his existence felt like half here half not, but the closer he pushed himself, the more solid his presence was, the warmer I felt in the embrace and the more flustered I woke up.

Clearly, I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body and it was screaming for some sort of attention, there was no other explanation for these embarrassing dreams. The shame I felt from such urges surfacing in this manner was overshadowed only by the pressing loneliness, and I kept telling myself that even if I am a married, proper woman, dreams are dreams, and indulging in them a little wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? So, I let myself slip into sweet sleep every night, anticipating where my mind would take me.

During the day the little slip ups would continue. I would misplace things, find them in completely different places then I’d left them before. Sometimes it felt as if I was losing my mind, that the combination of the strange dreams and my sudden scatteredness meant I was finally feeling the effects of the situation I’d find myself in. But I could swear sometimes I would catch a glimpse of shadow or hear a gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I couldn’t find something. It made me feel even more insane.

The moment I realised what was truly happening came a few days later. Even though I was a little unsettled, I’d grown accustomed to the dreams and I treated them as my little escape, no matter whether I should have been concerned or not. I felt comfort from them and they felt like a dirty secret of mine, something I shouldn’t have been doing but it felt so nice I couldn’t stop myself. My husband spent all his nights god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who, I could allow myself this little thing.

Usually, I would sleep through the night without a problem and in the morning I’d be woken up by Minhwan coming back home and barging into the bedroom to ask for a breakfast, but that night for some reason I was shaken out of my sleep somewhere in the dark hours of the early morning. There was some noise outside, something that sounded like a wolf howl, and it was so close I was almost afraid to check the yard in case there was a wild animal there, but I had to go see whether the rabbits and chickens we were keeping were peaceful, just to be sure.

I moved to get out of the bed, but found an arm around my waist pinning me to another body and keeping me in place. My first instinct was to panic, but quickly that was overridden by utter bottomless embarrassment. What if Minhwan has been returning home earlier than I thought and this whole time my mind only substituted some unknown man in the place of my husband as I was falling asleep? Had I been embarrassing myself in front of him the whole time, dreaming about such immoral things and imagining a stranger’s embrace? But he had never touched me like this, and even when we shared a bed at the beginning of our marriage, he never showed the habit of hugging something while sleeping. He always kept himself to his side and never touched me unless completely necessary, even during marital activities. I couldn’t imagine him slipping quietly into bed in the middle of the night and embracing me so tenderly.

Complicated emotions flooded me, not knowing what to make of this, but in a moment of weakness I fooled myself into thinking this could maybe be a beginning of a better marriage. That was shattered the moment I reached back to gently pat at his thigh to wake him up to go check on the animals. There was some shuffling, the arm tightened around my mid and suddenly I could feel him nosing at the crook of my neck, laying a single long wet kiss there. I froze and flushed, completely flustered and even more confused by the situation. Then he chuckled and ice cold flooded my veins. I felt myself freeze in place, terror keeping me so still I barely even breathed. That wasn’t my husband’s voice. It was deep and velvety, rich like the dark chocolate I’d once gotten the chance to try in the city, completely different from Minhwan’s quiet rough commands.

Fear was making it hard to think, but I knew he realised I was awake based on how stiff I’d gotten, I could hear him quietly breathing and waiting for my reaction. There was certain amusement to him, I didn’t know how I felt it, but somehow I just did, something about him gave off excited anticipation and I imagined a sly smirk stretching his lips as he laid there. Then suddenly as if everything caught up to me, I felt my body jumping into motion, tearing his arm away and flying out of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I could see, which were my shoes, and turned around to try my best in defending myself against this stranger that’s apparently been sneaking into my bed deep into the night.

But the moment my eyes fell on the bed, it was empty. No sign of anyone being there. Frightened out of my mind, I searched the room with my eyes, but it was mostly bare and there wasn’t a place that could hide a man. I knew he was bigger than me, I’d felt him behind me and I was sure he couldn’t have been hiding in the sorry state my bedroom was.

For a moment I just stood there and processed before my knees gave up on me and I slid down to the floor, shoes still tightly clutched in my hands, heart beating out of my chest. I wasn’t going insane. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. There was something not human in my bed.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed leaning on the wall and watching the room. My eyes frantically jumped to any movement, even the tiniest flickers of shadows would make my hands twitch, fingers tightening around my slippers, ready to jump out and fight for my life. But nothing happened. The only sounds I could hear were coming from the wind tearing into the walls of the house and messing with the trees and branches outside, and at some point the room was so still I almost felt as if I fell through the cracks into a painting and was now stuck inside.

Thus I had hours to sit there and stew in my fear and humiliation. Whatever the being was, it must have had nefarious intentions, why else would he sneak in like that and make my dreams turn to such depravity? And here I was, fooling myself into thinking it was okay to feel such cravings and giving into them, anticipating them and with bated breath hoping maybe the next night the dream lover will finally cave and touch me in a way I’d barely ever felt in my life. Instead I almost gave myself over to a demon, let him have my body and feed off of my energy, damn my soul and prove that I truly was cursed.

I also had a lot of time to think of my next steps. But what could I really do? I could never tell Minhwan and ask for his help, he’d chase me out as an impure woman. Once I’d tell him the nature of the encounters,  he’d accuse me of adultery and use it as an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was returned to my father in such a manner, death would be more welcoming than facing his rage and humiliating the family. Telling him would do more harm than good.

I could buy myself talismans and hide them around the house, but there were many, each of them used for a different ailment. I’d have to visit the village shaman and pay her to exorcise me and our home. I’d have to explain to her the troubles I’ve been having so she could paint me appropriate protective talismans. It was obvious that the being must have been a demon of lust and once I admitted that, the delicious  gossip would no doubt spread and I would be as good as dead.

No, I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening. I had to chase him out myself, no matter what it took. Come morning, I was completely exhausted but determined to deal with the situation myself.

When Minhwan barged into the house, pale in complexion and with dark bags under his eyes, I was already preparing the breakfast on the small table, looking similarly dead on my feet. The man’s eyes flitted over me, but he didn’t seem to take notice od my state and only grunted, pleased at not having to wait for food or scream for me to leave the bed.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when he left for the yard, didn’t even have time to process the usual air of coldness and disinterest he brought with him, as I was too preoccupied thinking of the unwelcome guest. The little tricks with misplacing things must have also been him. I felt rage lick at the edge of my mind, suddenly making itself known in such an intensity I surprised myself. I’d fully start to believe I was no longer capable of feeling such strong emotions, but here I was. Thinking of million ways to get back at someone who’s been making a fool of me for his own entertainment for the past weeks.

The next few days were suspiciously uneventful. No more visits, no more “dreams”, even all my tools stayed suspiciously still and didn’t suddenly appear at places they weren’t supposed to be, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily, not to mention I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being watched or messed with.

And slowly he had begun giving me subtle hints he was still as present as ever. The books that were put in order, the robe that was waiting for me on by the partition one evening, water refilled in a cup I knew I’d finished. He suddenly switched to being helpful instead of messing with me, but I knew it was all just entertainment to him.

One of the bigger ones was some days later in the evening. I’d taken to walking around the veranda checking on the yard and the forest outside of the yard walls. As usual, there were footsteps in the snow, my husband left them there every night when he left, but that evening there was something different about them. I frowned, trying to discern what about them caught my attention. I leaned over the railing to inspect them closer with a sense of foreboding looming over my head like a silent monument. The moment I realised what it was I gasped and dread and anticipation filled me. The footsteps, they didn’t lead from the house. They led towards the main entrance.

This must be it, I thought to myself. This must be the night.

When I walked back inside, I lingered around each room a little, watching the surroundings like a hawk and expecting him to jump out at me from every corner and every shadow. But the house was still and silent, not even any sounds from outside creeping in. I slowly walked towards the bedroom and found it empty and in the same state as I’d left it. I made it through my little nightly ritual without a hitch, but anxious and expecting something to happen any moment. It didn’t. Lying down in bed, I continued sharply watching the room, but to no avail. Even though I could basically taste the anticipation in the still air of the room, and knew the demon was most definitely watching me back, he didn’t make any move. I fell asleep suddenly, without realising I was even teetering on the edge and when I woke up, I wasn’t sure whether the fingers I felt gently carding through my hair just as I succumbed to sleep were my imagination or not.

He didn’t return abruptly, instead he slowly built it up, as if testing how far I’d let this go. Sometimes he would hand me things when cooking or I would be looking for something only to find it gingerly sitting on the table a few hours later, as if suddenly becoming helpful would make me more accepting of whatever his end goal was and I would let him return like nothing happened.

The problem began when he started leaving flowers for me. The gentle quivering of my heart when I saw a beautiful little flower in bloom laying by my bedside was alarming to me, and I didn’t want such a confusing feeling to enter my life. But I couldn’t help myself.

Without thinking I picked it up and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweetly, almost too ripe, the scent permeating the air and everything around it, making me slightly dizzy. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I received a flower like this, maybe when my little brother was still a child and brought it for me from playing in the fields. Our father scolded him then, for running around with other boys instead of studying, but after that whenever either of us saw the little white blossom, we would giggle at each other, sharing smiles like tiny secrets.

I was startled by a tear sliding down my cheek at the memory, the sudden reminiscing of my family, of the one person I was truly close to before he joined the military and went to Hanyang. He was to be married soon too, already at that age when the promises turn to actions and I couldn’t wait for the spring to come so I could travel for his wedding. I’d met the girl before, she was a shy quiet daughter of a smaller aristocratic family who just recently got their title for their merits. I quite liked her, even if I didn’t get much time with her before leaving.

He was the one person in our family who had a chance of a happy marriage, I hoped he would. No matter what our father tried to create out of him, he was a sensitive boy, full of mischief and laughs. I so desperately wanted his life to turn out better than mine did. Or that his marriage wouldn’t end up like our eldest brother’s did. He had married first, when we still scrounged for money, I remembered going to his wedding as a young maiden and being swept away in the celebrations, wishing for my own wedding with red blushing cheeks as young girls did. His wife was a practical woman, strong and resolute, but kind. They never had much affections between them, but they had an understanding and their marriage functioned well. I believed my brother respected her as a husband should his wife, but I was wrong.

After our title was restored, our father started pushing my brother to divorce her so he could marry a lady from an aristocratic family, but he couldn’t do that. She had given him children and wasn’t causing him any troubles, so a divorce wouldn’t be allowed. So my brother did the next best thing. He married a woman of a high standing and made her his main wife, pushing the first wife into a secondary position in the family and robbing her children of their inheritance of the title. Since then she became quiet and withdrawn, no longer she was allowed to make any decisions and lived only to serve a man that didn’t even look her way anymore, couldn’t even explain to his firstborn son that he no longer would inherit his estate and left her to pick up the ashes and survive such disgrace.

It was terrifying when it happened. While she never showed much gentleness, she always smiled at the children and sometimes would sneak me sweets like I was one of her own, even when I was the second oldest child of the family. My heart bled for her, and I started to fear my own marriage, knowing I would never get any aristocrat’s respect due to our family history. At that time, I had no idea that what would happen to me would be even worse.

I was startled by a sudden touch on my cheek, a finger wiping away the few stray tears falling down while I sat on the ground and stared at the pretty flower. I gasped and tried to flinch away, but another arm snaked around my waist and I could feel his head leaning on my shoulder. He sat behind me once again, like always, holding me as if he didn’t want me to see him.

“Shhhhhh…,” came his deep honeyed voice, whispering in such a gentle way that I could feel a wave of goosebumps hitting me, “I didn’t know it would make you cry.” Against my better judgment, I could feel my body relaxing into his embrace and a few more tears slipping out. He rocked us from side to side, trying to console me, but it was like my dams broke and soon I was sobbing in his arms, pushing my face into his shoulder and clutching the single blossom in my shaky hands.

I couldn’t say when the last time I was held so tenderly by someone was, but it must have been when I was a child still, begging for my mother’s touch any time something happened. I was warm, wrapped into him, and soft. There was a hand in my hair, carding through the locks and caressing me like a lover would. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears and emotions and I felt ashamed and scared. I couldn’t trust him, and it hurt because no one’s ever treated me so softly, but I knew. Knew it might be just a way to get closer to me. So I decided to allow myself this just for a moment.

I let him hold me, listened to him hum some kind of a song I didn’t recognise, let him lull me into a half-asleep state until I was draped over him, boneless and numb. His hands never strayed like before and he seemed to be genuinely trying to console me. In my mind I scolded myself, believed myself pathetic for falling for such tricks and for being so desperate I would let a demon embrace me just to feel some warmth, but outwardly I didn’t let anything show. I was too drained for that.

When I quieted down and just limply hung off of his frame, he must have decided it was time to sleep. He grabbed me and carried me onto the bedding, making sure my head was pushed into his shoulder so I couldn’t look at his face. I found it strange, but had no energy to ask him anything, just letting him manoeuvre us around until we were lying just like we used to before I caught him, on our side with him behind me. Sleep came and claimed me suddenly and out of nowhere, but I found myself strangely comfortable.

When I awoke in the morning, the house was silent and the bed was empty, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would I have confronted him and demanded answers? Or did I allow myself to be vulnerable around someone that wished for my downfall and now I found myself inappropriately attached? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like thinking about it, and so I got up and went about my day as if nothing had happened. I did find myself wondering what happened to the flower, as it was nowhere to be found, wondering whether it even was real or if I hallucinated it. But after that night, a fresh blossom was waiting by my bedside every evening, leaving me full of complicated confusing emotions. No sight of my demon, though.

“Do you want that?” a gruff voice by my shoulder growled and I barely stopped myself from scowling. The hairpin I had been staring at was suddenly plucked from the table by the eager merchant who understood that question as my husband’s intention to buy it for me. The older man pushed it towards me and started reciting all the reasons why such a lady like me absolutely had to have such a decoration, hoping to pitch it to a loving husband doting on his wife. Unfortunately, his guess was completely wrong.

“How much is it?” I asked towards the merchant, who seemed confused by me talking to him while Minhwan stared daggers into my back. His eyes flitted between us, awkward silence taking over for a few seconds before he stuttered out the price, looking at no one in particular. I went to fish out the amount from my purse, but my hand was stopped by another much bigger and rougher one.

“You don’t need it,” Minhwan said resolutely, voice leaving no space for discussion, “Don’t waste money on useless things.” I gritted my teeth, minutely losing control of my expression as rage swept through me at his statement, but as soon as I saw my husband’s eyes narrow in warning, I schooled myself and pulled from the stall.

“Of course,” I answered with false demureness, shooting the merchant an apologetic smile before ducking my head down and following after Minhwan through the market like the picture of the perfect wife. We walked around for some time, from stall to stall, haggling for vegetables and tools, whatever was needed around the house. Minhwan didn’t like it when I spoke to the vendors, he had me trailing behind him with a veil on or my head demurely ducked down like an obedient wife, and I was to speak only when he asked me something. Thus I spent most of the time in the market saying only “yes, we need it” or “no, I think we still have enough”. I hated it, but there was nothing that could be done.

The ride back to the house was also incredibly tense. I could still feel my husband’s rage at my earlier behaviour and knew that the moment we walk back through the gates of our farm, he’ll have some things to say. So I sighed and waited for the endless journey to finally reach its final destination.

To my shock and unease, nothing came when we walked back into the house, supplies in hands and struggling to pull the baskets through the door. Silence was all that greeted me. Minhwan helped me pull things into the kitchen and then with one last burning hateful stare he walked across the house. I watched him rummage through a chest, pulling out his only other jungchimak he usually wore when outing with his friends. It was the better one, in deep indigo colour, that made him look like a young affluent yangban. I snickered behind my hand and pretended to sort through the different bags and baskets we brought back.

When Minhwan was done changing, he charged out of the door without even a second glance. I looked out of the kitchen door facing into the yard and watched him until the gate slammed shut behind him, then I returned to the task at hand with a sigh. He didn’t do this often, but sometimes when I would make him angry, he just left. Without a word. He likely wouldn’t return until late noon tomorrow morning.

I’d long since given up on trying to stop him when the sun was still high up in the sky, he would still leave, just significantly angrier, which would result in him throwing out more money, so it was better to not get in his way when he wanted to drink, smoke and fuck his frustration away god knows where with the other young men.

I busied myself cleaning around the house and caring for the animals, finishing the work he had left. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger and annoyance as I chopped the firewood, wildly swinging the axe around and taking it out on the logs. When the time to go to sleep came, I was drained, both emotionally and physically, too strung out and tensed to even enjoy my nighttime routine like I usually did.

When I turned to the bed, a single hairpin was lying on the bedding. A beautiful, red, lacquered hairpin with a carving of a flower and a single red gem in the centre. The one I’d been looking at while we were in the town and almost bought to spite Minhwan. A mix of emotions overtook me, the most prominent one being sudden anger. My heart stuttered under the weight of it, the frustration of the day and the past weeks bursting through me in one big eruption.

Our uninvited guest was keeping himself surprisingly scarce after that night I had cried, but kept bringing me flowers. I accepted them with complicated feelings, but I had convinced myself into believing that since they’re already here, since they already have been plucked, it would be cruel of me to not accept them. So, night after night I tucked them away so Minhwan could never find them. I didn’t even know where the demon was getting them, since we were in the middle of a tough winter, but after all, I should care for them all the more, right?

But the hairpin was a step too far. I did not need to be reminded of my shameful behaviour and of the fact that my husband felt it appropriate to blow all his money away but couldn’t spare a single silver to let me buy a hairpin, and definitely not in such a way.

“Okay, come out,” I spoke loudly into the empty room, “We need to talk. This can’t keep happening.” I looked around, but everything stayed silent and still. Then, a soft voice rang out.

“Close your eyes.”

I stood up and crossed my arms defensively, spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of the being.

“Why?” I asked gruffly, speaking to an empty bedroom like a lunatic, “Why do you not want me to see you?”

“I can’t let you see me until you truly want to,” the answer came, the voice just as melodic and soft as it was before, as it was always, and I involuntarily shuddered.

“I do want to see you, right now,” I replied, ticked off. He just wanted to have the upper hand and not face me head on, I was sure of that. There was silence again, seemingly even the wind outside the door quieting down to listen to us, the room unnaturally still.

“You want to scold me,” he answered petulantly after a moment, sounding more like a child. I could hear the pout on his lips, the childlike upset of doing something wrong and not understanding why. My resolve softened a little, but I pulled myself together, determined not to let the demon play me like that. I couldn’t keep letting him get away with everything.

“So you know,” I stated, the anger seeping back into my voice, “You cannot keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his question, one that filled me with exasperation.

I gestured to the hairpin wildly. “This!” I exclaimed loudly, “The leaving of gifts, the creeping around, nothing of it. Leave while I’m still asking nicely.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt like an empty threat. What could I possibly do against him? I’d let him go this far, what could I do to stop him now? But he completely ignored the second part and focused solely on the gifts.

“Do you not like them?” there was slight dejection present in his voice, like he didn’t understand why it was such a problem, “I thought you did. You never threw them out.” I cursed my soft heart. I should have never let him get away with bringing me flowers, I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I should have been resolute and told him to leave right then, not let him coddle me and embrace me when I felt sad.

I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I found myself not wanting to upset him by saying no, falling victim to his sweet demeanour. Again. I groaned with frustration and hit my forehead with my palm.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I started a little softer than before, “It’s just embarrassing.”

“Why?” I groaned again. Good lord, this was going to take a while.

“Because…” I stuttered for a moment, the vulnerability of words on my tongue shocking me, “It feels humiliating. My own husband wouldn’t buy it for me and it feels like an insult for a demon to do that.” There was a beat of silence, in which I almost managed to persuade myself that there was never anyone there and I had been talking to myself the whole time, but then he spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” his voice was quiet, contemplative, “I wanted to make you happy.” That shocked me enough to have me stutter over a few breaths, wildly looking around the room with wide eyes. “W-why?” I managed to squeak out, flabbergasted at such admission.

“It felt like you needed it,” came his simple reply, as if talking about the weather. That statement drained the whole fight out of me, leaving me standing there unsure and confused, filled with shame and wonder at the simplicity of it all.

“What?” I whispered, not really looking for an answer, just voicing out my inner turmoil.

“It felt like you needed it,” he replied a little louder, “You were always so sad. I didn’t like it. You shouldn’t be so sad.” It was such a simple statement and yet it pulled down the walls of my heart and made it flutter. I chided myself for being so easy to fool with a few sweet words, but I couldn’t stop the lightness taking over my heart, the relief bleeding into my every pore.

Someone saw my suffering, I thought to myself. Someone noticed my pain.

“What are you?” I whispered the question into the empty house, but no man stepped out into the light, no shadow moved. He was silent for a moment and then said: “Close your eyes.” And this time I did.

The moment my lids fluttered closed, I could hear slight shuffling of clothing behind me and light footsteps. On instinct I went to turn around, but a hand suddenly tightly covered my eyes, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, pushing myself back straight into his chest, which embarrassingly enough was a position I’d gotten used to over the past weeks. Then a silken ribbon touched my cheek and the hand moved quickly to tie it over my eyes.

“So you don’t try to cut this meeting short,” he explained lightly, voice full of amusement.

“But I do want to see you, is it not enough that I no longer wish to scold you?” I asked, confused by the strange rules.

“You need to desire to see me, truly, with your soul,” he said lowly, voice deepening into the honeyed register I was used to hearing from him and I shuddered lightly, feeling the words trickle down my skin and bite into my very being.

“S-so I can only see you when I want t-to-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought, the sinful image burning into my brain making me stutter and blush so fiercely I felt as if I burst into flames. I ducked my head, but his chuckle followed me, melting over me. There was no longer any amusement in his voice, now there was something darker and heavier, threatening to consume me from the inside out.

“Smart girl,” he whispered and I couldn’t help the wave of goosebumps that hit my skin when I felt his breath on my ear and neck. The sudden turn from his earlier more innocent voice and words left me confused and flabbergasted, blushing at his newfound confidence. I felt him lean closer into me, nose almost touching the crook of my neck, only to whisper: “Time to sleep.”

Before I could react, he swooped me into his arms and I yelped in surprise, before hiding my face in my hands in embarrassment. He carried me to the bed and very gently laid me there, his hands smoothing down my nightgown and pulling the blanket over us. My face burned, but I stayed silent and let him happily chirp behind me as he pulled me closer to his chest and made himself comfortable.

It felt like years before I fell asleep. I just laid there, feeling his chest move and his breathing deepen until I was sure he was sleeping, but even then I didn’t reach back to untie the ribbon. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust his words. That’s how I finally got pulled under, with my heart trembling with careful hope.

Come morning, something new happened. When I woke up, his strong arms were still wrapped around me and as soon as I started wiggling in his grip, he woke up with a content groan and a big stretch, like a cat. I blushed again, which seemed to become more of a permanent thing in his presence. I went to call out to him to scold him, when I realised something. I didn’t know his name. I haven’t asked him for his name all this time.

“Good morning,” came his morning raspy voice, then he burrowed his face somewhere deeper into the bedding and my hair. The ribbon slipped during the night and with my movement it unravelled onto the pillow, making me freeze slightly. I reached for it, playing with it between my fingers a little, before I spoke to him too.

Good morning...” I trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to ask him his name, “d-demon?” I flushed in embarrassment. Truly perfect, why not just call him a pervert if I was going to be like that? Behind me, the man chuckled and wriggled a little, presumably to make himself more comfortable. I couldn’t believe I let myself lie with a man like that, but it was better to just not think about it.

“Taehyung would be a bit better, but I’ll take it,” he replied nonchalantly, but then suddenly stiffened. Before I could truly register his alarm, the entrance door slammed open and heavy footsteps made their way into the house. I panicked and flew out of the bed, but when I turned to warn Taehyung, I was met with an empty bed. The other half was even made as if nobody slept there.

Seconds later, the doors to the bedroom slid open and my disgruntled husband peeked in. His hair was a mess, his face taunt and white, bloodshot eyes adorned with dark circles underneath. He looked like death itself, the exhaustion seeping out of him in waves, but he still managed to scowl when he laid eyes on me still in my nightgown. I wondered what time it was, but concentrated on schooling my expression and not showing my flustered state, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. He regarded me with slight suspicion in his eyes, but ultimately decided not to comment on it.

“Make me a breakfast,” was all he said and then he disappeared into the house. I glanced at my little vanity sitting in a corner of the room and noticed the hairpin sitting gingerly right in the middle of it. I swiped it away quickly putting it with the flowers, and started getting ready for the day. But the thoughts of Taehyung and his words and behaviour wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day, plaguing me when I was making breakfast, when I was cleaning up the melted snow Minhwan carried into the house on his shoes and clothes, and embarrassingly enough even when I went to wash up that evening, wondering whether he could see me now too.

The peak of the winter came and went, but the layer of snow stayed thick, blanketed over the world and painting it pure white. I had found myself much fonder of the quietness it brought, how it swallowed all sounds and created a bubble of calm over everything, especially when my husband was gone from the house, which has become more and more frequent. Lately he left earlier and came back later, turning more and more pale with every morning. He didn’t speak to me about what he did, he barely ever spoke at all, but the tension in his shoulders and the troubled angry expression that has made itself home on his face told me that he must have gotten himself into some big trouble. I found myself just as anxious, waiting for him to tell me we would be losing it all because he made a bet or let himself be swindled.

Taehyung, during that time, worked hard on trying to distract me, bringing me little gifts and messing about the house trying to help me. Anytime I would come across clothes that have been rearranged or things that have been cleaned up, but put into the wrong places, I would sigh and jokingly glare around the room, but I couldn’t stop the fluttering of my heart and the fondness that spread through me at hearing his disembodied giggles.

During these evenings he took to covering my mirror, sitting behind me and brushing my hair for me. We would spend this time in comfortable silence, resting against each other and enjoying the simple companionship. It was such an intimate act, like we were lovers taking care of each other, like husband and wife who love each other, I would find myself flustered and blushing, feeling like it was my wedding night all over again. It was such a strong contrast to how tensed and hostile the silence was when my husband was around, that I often shamefully dreamed and pretended that Taehyung was my spouse, that this was a part of our life and our routine. He would caress my hair, my sides, press soft kisses to my shoulders, play with my hands and my fingers, and when we retired for the night, he hugged me tightly, pressing himself into me and making me feel safe and secure.

The longer this went on, the more torn with fervent longing I was, wishing this was my life and not just pity that a passing demon took on me. I was choked up with emotions, the words “stay”, “show yourself to me”, “love me” always on the tip of my tongue, fighting to spill, chest heavy and full like I was about to burst. It hurt. I hurt. I wanted a life I couldn’t have; I wanted a man that would take my soul and leave once he’d gotten what he came for, and I hated myself for it and I hated my life.

Taehyung felt this in me, felt this shift from happiness back into tortured silence, I could feel it in his touch, in how gently his hands and fingers regarded me, how reverent his lips were on the skin of my shoulders and neck, I felt it in his voice whispering praise to me. The desperation to make it all better, the frantic beating of his heart against my back because he feared he did something to upset me. No matter how much I wanted to ease him, the words would just not leave my mouth.

And my body, it betrayed me. It lit up with every touch, heat pumping through my veins with every brush of his lips, I could feel it swirling in my lower belly and oftentimes found myself hoping for his daring hands to explore as they had been doing back then before I caught him. But Taehyung stubbornly never strayed from the safe spots, never returned to his previous antics.

One night when he didn’t show up, I had a lot of time to think about where this was going and how I was dangerously teetering on the edge of improperness. When I sat alone by the bed and worried for him, called out to him and then promptly spiralled into believing he had grown tired of me, the feelings of pain and despair it filled me with shocked me. I missed him. I missed his touch, his presence, his voice. I didn’t want him to leave me. I’d grown attached to him, to a shadow that spoke to me and treated me with gentleness and kindness.

I wanted to see him. I looked at the ribbon lying on my vanity, the one he used every night to cover my eyes so I couldn’t swindle him and peek when he wasn’t paying attention. I wanted it gone.

I wanted. I longed. I needed.

Falling asleep that night was a challenge, I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I suddenly laid alone once again, too used to a warm comforting body behind me. And when tiredness finally overcame me, he visited me in my dreams, his bold hands exploring places that haven’t been tenderly touched before; drawing out sighs out of me, body trembling with unknown pleasure as his fingers dipped between my legs and leisurely moved in little circles over the bundle of nerves. My dream self was moaning and writhing in his arms, begging for him to never stop as the pleasure mounted until it burst out in a bolt of pure ecstasy. I jolted awake, breathing heavily and still shaking from the intense sensations. Startled I realised there was wetness coating my intimate parts and the top of my thighs, the sticky feeling making me blush in embarrassment. My whole body seemed to be tingling from this experience and I couldn’t calm myself down.

“Taehyung?” I called out carefully, checking that he wasn’t around to witness this. When no answer came and the man himself didn’t come out and shown himself, I quickly ran to the vanity to grab the first cloth I found and cleaned myself. My shaky hands couldn’t hold onto anything properly and I couldn’t get my breathing back under control, the experience leaving me full of confusing feelings, longing filled with arousal mixing with shame until I my head was spinning and my chest hurt. After that, I didn’t fall asleep again, instead I sat on the bed and tried to make sense of my own heart.

The only thing that saved me from getting suspicious stares from my husband was that he himself barely looked at me. But it felt different from his usual coldness, he looked haunted and worried, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even realise anyone else was present. It made me anxious. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, it seemed bad and if it came to it, he’d drag me down with him. For the first time in so long I found myself wishing he’d just talk to me, tell me what was happening so I could stop drowning myself in worry. But I knew that if I had come to him and asked him, he would get angry. So I waited for my life to end with bated breath.

Taehyung returned after two days and acted as if he was never gone, as if he didn’t suddenly disappear without a word and left me spinning, thinking he’d never return. When I heard his voice ring out it the empty house for the first time in so long, I couldn’t stop the tears of relief and he spent the whole evening and night holding me and consoling me, whispering into my ear how he’d never leave again.

More than ever I realised the burning desire coursing through my veins whenever he touched me. I wanted him, like wife should want a husband, and it was getting harder to ignore the way my body responded to him. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung was aware of my plight, if he registered how I seemed to stiffen anytime he pushed me closer to himself, how I held my breath when his arms snaked around my waist, how I shuddered when his hands slipped through my hair when he tied the ribbon over my eyes. I didn’t know if he noticed, but if he did, he didn’t say or do anything. Sometimes he would get closer to me, nose at my neck or play with my ear and then he would suddenly stop, as if he remembered himself, and pull away. And I wanted to scream at him. To not go. To do more.

And the more the situation went south in my marriage, the more I realised that my heart has long since been stolen by a being I haven’t even seen, but whose actions spoke louder than thousand words.

And so I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Or, well, to put it into Taehyung’s hands.

Some nights I would dream about him, even when he laid behind me I just wouldn’t have enough. And in those dreams, he would do the things I desired from him. It felt like my dirty little secret, enjoying him in such way in the privacy of my own mind, but knowing he was there. That he could be witnessing me be improper, could be witnessing my needs resurfacing in this manner. He never showed it, but sometimes I wondered if he knew, if he was waiting to make a move. And it excited me even more. The tension kept thickening, and I boiled, I boiled until one day I just… burst.

I had woken up in the middle of the night, woken up by my own dream as usual, hot and breathless, but just short of release, pent up and frustrated and needy. Taehyung behind me stirred, but his breathing stayed deep and stable, arms minutely tightening before he relaxed again. I felt my wetness seeping down my thighs, squeezing them together on instinct to chase the pulsing and throbbing there, choking out a little whimper and squirming in my place.

That seemed to shake Taehyung out of his sleep, I could hear the shuffling of his clothes, his hand flexing on my belly. He raised his head and murmured something, but I couldn’t hear through the rushing of blood in my ears. I was so aroused my head was almost spinning, my mind zeroing only on getting back to the pleasure I had been feeling. I squirmed in his arms again and whined.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” came his quiet raspy voice by my ear and I could feel goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Without saying anything I reached for one of his hands and pulled it lower, until it laid over my thigh. There was silence behind me and neither of us moved for a moment.

“What?” he whispered again, confusion lacing his voice as he started caressing my thigh, thinking I just needed comfort, “Did you have a nightmare?” I shook my head, frustrated at myself for not being able to get the words out of my mouth, so instead I grabbed his hand again and this time I gently laid it over the very top of my thighs, the tips of his fingers just grazing my intimate area. Taehyung froze for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his reaction.

But then he released a long breath and his hand moved, grabbing onto my nightgown and slowly pulling it up over my legs. “Are you being naughty?” he asked me playfully and I trembled with anticipation, the searing heat seemingly reaching a crescendo with the promise of his touch. The moment I felt him gently caressing up the naked skin of my thigh, I whimpered again and immediately lifted my leg to grant him access to where I wanted him the most.

Behind me, there was a chuckle, so deep and rumbly I felt it in my bones, satisfied and overjoyed with my eagerness. Taehyung nosed up my shoulder, until I could feel him laying searing wet kisses into the crook of my neck. His hand suddenly shot up back to my knee, grabbing it so he could hook it over his legs and keep me spread. I blushed, but another gush of wetness seeped onto the skin of my thighs at the prospect this finally happening.

“Want to have your pretty little cunt played with, hmm?” Taehyung whispered into my hair, the smirk evident in the smugness of his voice. This was his element, and I ducked my head into my arms, embarrassed by the words and the actions, embarrassed by my body screaming for him. He didn’t seem to need an answer, pleased with my shyness and with how my body responded for me, arching into his touch and begging for more. So he indulged, both himself and me.

His fingers descended between my legs suddenly, shocking a moan out of me as they glided through the wet folds until they settled over the little bundle of nerves. He touched me teasingly, circling it lightly, tapping and pressing on it and then sliding his fingers down to play with my entrance, as if testing how much I would be able to take.

I trembled whole, overflowing with relief, pleasure and burning need for more, spilling out of me on sighs and whimpers. I lost the control of my body as it swayed and arched, pushing into his elusive playful fingers. When my whines took on a more desperate tone, Taehyung finally seemed to be satisfied enough to stop teasing. He started playing me masterfully, fingers drawing tight quick circles on my clit, making me choke on my spit, brain not comprehending the sudden onslaught of sensations.

I found myself hurling towards that edge of ecstasy quicker than I’ve experienced before, my whole body singing under his touch, thrumming with the fulfilment of all the desires that had been piling up over the past weeks.

“Let go whenever you need to, don’t be afraid,” Taehyung whispered to me, voice low and aroused, and I arched with a silent scream as the release overtook me, bursting through my body in a single white flash. Taehyung carried me through it, fingers slowing down but never stopping, little quiet groans leaving him at seeing me blissed out. When the pleasure ebbed away gradually, I pushed his hand away with a quiet whine, feeling too much all at once.

He led me down from the high gently, hands running over my body, over my sides, his voice murmuring loving words into my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how well I did for him. I soaked it all up, preened under his care and attention and loved every moment of it, the fear and insecurity about his intentions taking the backseat for a few calming moments. My body thrummed with the after-shocks of my climax, and I pleasantly floated on the feelings of relief and release.

I was still catching up to my brain, when the words “I want to see you” tumbled out of my mouth. Taehyung’s hand stopped for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm gently. He hummed, non-committally, fingers suddenly teasing again as he lightly dragged them on my arm up and down.

“Do you really?” he whispered sensually, almost purring, and I gasped at the sensation. Before I could reply, he was suddenly gone. I heard him moving around in the room, the sound of his steps, his stable breathing and the light clanking of items as he moved them. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he was satisfied, he returned to me. Taehyung leaned down to me and grasped my arm, pulling me up to stand.

“Get on your feet, darling,” he told me sweetly, the sudden nickname making me blush as if we weren’t just wrapped in each other in such sinful ways. I stood, knees still a little shaky, but managed to hold my weight. I was a little achy, but it was a pleasant and boneless feeling, as if everything had been drained away and all that was left were soft sweet clouds.

Taehyung’s hands left me, and I could hear him stepping away, his heels hitting the wooden floor heavily. I held my breath in anticipation, my hands trembling, my body still confused from the screaming pleasure it was put through just moments ago.

Then, he spoke.

“You can pull the ribbon down.” His voice was smooth, kind and happy. My arms moved as if they had a mind of their own, lifting up to my head to grasp at the ends of the ribbon to pull. When it fell away, at first I was left blinded by the light for a moment. I blinked; eyes hurt from getting flashed with white after so long in the dark. I hurriedly wiped away the few stray tears and gently pressed on my eyelids to alleviate the pressure. When I opened them again, he stood in front of me.

He was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I gasped as I took him in, the softness of him.

He had long black hair, half done up into a bun at the back of his head. He was dressed in a black cheollik with red hems and pulled together by a silk red string adorned with dark grey jade, and his underclothes were also in black. He was barefoot, standing on my cold wooden bedroom floor like he didn’t feel the chill at all, when I already started shivering in my thin night robes. My eyes shot back to his face. He was ethereally pretty, all sharp edges but still looking so soft and lovely it stole my breath away. Even though his eyes were shockingly blue, I could see the kindness in them, unlike his mouth that was pulled into a mischievous smirk. Just I as I imagined he so often had.

I could see he started nervously fiddling with his sleeves, face flashing with panic and unsureness. He stepped from foot to foot, looking at the ground bashfully, before looking back up at me with wide round eyes full of pure-hearted earnestness.

“What do you think?” he asked, as if I was looking at fruit at the market. He squirmed in his place again and I couldn’t bare to let him believe that I didn’t think he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. In a few quick strides I crossed the room to him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, as always, and I had begun believing he always would, and pressed me closer into him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled him down by his neck and pressed our lips together.

Taehyung caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around me and taking charge, kissing me like a man starved, passionate and hungry and all-consuming, filling my head and my heart with him and only him. I dreaded my husband’s return, because it would mean my little fantasy dream life would dissolve and Taehyung would have to disappear again, but for now I focused on his mouth claiming mine with such fervour it left me breathless.

Seeing Taehyung made things both easier and more difficult. Nothing much changed between us, only now I saw him messing with my things and “helping out” around the house. I heard his endless giggles and sometimes would catch a glimpse of his figure before he disappeared into a different part of the house, and I always trailed behind him and looked for whatever it was he misplaced or swapped.

I found that even though he was visible to me most of the time, he still didn’t talk much, preferring to sit by me and watch me with fond eyes. He would silently take heavy things from my hands and carry them for me, only sending a playful grin my way, or push me away from the cutting board to prepare the ingredients himself with a simple quiet “let me help”. I liked it. Taehyung filled the space with his presence, with kind eyes and gentle laughs and comfortableness I haven’t felt with anyone else. Sometimes laughs would just bubble out of my throat at his antics or at his expressions and I stopped, surprised at my own ability to laugh. I was happy. I felt content.

I loved him, and I knew that. I wanted my life to be like this from now on until the end of time. More and more often I found myself thinking how married life wouldn’t be that bad if my husband was Taehyung, and I blushed at those thoughts, but couldn’t fully fight them away. I imagined him chopping the firewood in the yard (he already did that for me after he saw me with an axe one), taking care of the animals (it wasn’t unusual for him to feed the hens and the pigs after sundown, since Minhwan was already long gone around then) and then coming home to happily eat supper I worked so hard on (he loved my cooking and never failed to compliment me). I loved watching him walking around the farm as if it was him who owned it, him who married me. Him who loved me.

And during the nights… Taehyung was more than happy to dote on me, naughty hands suddenly insatiable once I showed interest, bringing me to the peak of pleasure every morning, wandering around my curves and gently squeezing and loving on every inch he could reach. I melted in his hands, my brain suddenly interested only in how to get him to please me again. But he never moved it further, no matter how much I gently probed, tried to touch him back or insinuated that I would like to do more, he always grasped my hands and pulled me into a tight hug until we ended up falling asleep.

I was confused. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how it worked between men and women and I trusted him with my body and my pleasure, and I wanted to return it too, learn how to please him too, but he didn’t seem to want that to happen. He would always give me this unsure smile and then hold me all the tighter and I didn’t want to push him.

But while I found my domestic bliss in Taehyung’s presence, it was harshly brought down every time my husband returned home. Even though he’d become strangely withdrawn, he always seemed to fill the house with gloom and uncomfortable tension, choking every spare inch in despair. I was dancing on eggshells around him, trying my hardest not to draw his attention lest he redirects his ire to me.

This explosiveness was also new. He’d been angry at me before, but never like this, never with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, spewing poison until I was trembling with fear and shame, and then walking out. He would scream at me for the food not being warm, about spilling something on the floor, about not cleaning proficiently enough, and I begun to dread his returns, because he would always smell of alcohol, opium and other vices, and immediately find something to vent on, only to become silent and absent the moment after.

I could see on Taehyung he was worried for me. I wasn’t a fool, I knew he was present and heard everything, I could feel it in his sad tender eyes, in his loving caresses and the little gifts he would leave me. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that this was just my life and I had to deal with that, that him being around the house was already making a dreadful reality all the more bearable, but sometimes he just zoned out and I saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to come up with a way to somehow deal with this. But there was nothing that could be done.

While Minhwan spiralled and came home looking worse and worse every day, Taehyung tried his best to raise me up and make me feel better. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

One afternoon we were enjoying a particular sunny day, the door to the kitchen cracked open to let in the crisp freezing air, but I couldn’t feel the chill, not with Taehyung plastered to my back. He hung off of me, hugging me and whining playfully, his hands ever so often straying to my thighs or breasts, trying to rile me up while I made broth. I would always slap them away, but I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks or the way my body started responding to him and demanding his attention lower.

I was playing with the idea of letting him pleasure me right in the kitchen in the middle of the day, when Taehyung behind me stiffened, arms tightening around me. At first I didn’t register it, but when the sound of snow crunching under someone’s shoes reached my ears, I panicked. Throwing the wooden spoon away I turned and pushed Taehyung away from me.

“Quick, disappear! Minhwan must have returned!” I whispered urgently, almost sobbing with frustration when the dark-haired man just continued standing there as we both listened to the footsteps getting closer. He was looking out the door, his face curious but impassive, as if he didn’t realise the impending doom.

“Taehyung!” I cried out desperately, pushing him away just as the doors slammed opened. I froze and turned to the door, while Taehyung’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. At first I recognised the gesture as protective, but then I realised it was too casual.

I forced myself to see through the panic and registered that in the door stood a complete stranger. He regarded us both with a bored expression, his eyes sliding down my panicked frozen face and then skipping to Taehyung, sneering lightly in a pretend angry manner.

“So this is where you spend your days, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he grumbled a touch whinily and made himself comfortable on one of the seating pillows in the corner. He had elegant gestures and moved about in a graceful manner, he was also dressed in expensive clothes, showing off to everyone his status as a son of a wealthy yangban family. His face was sharp and impassive, but I could see a strange spark of something in his feline eyes.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said cutely and pulled me towards the man in expensive robes, “this is Y/N.” I stared dumbly between the two men, flabbergasted at the situation I had suddenly found myself in. Hyung? Was this another demon?

The man in question nodded towards me, showing polite interest. He looked intimidating, but whenever his eyes jumped to Taehyung, there was softness in them, and his face would suddenly relax and look more human and boyish.

“This is one of my hyungs,” Taehyung said towards me and then leaned closer until he could whisper into my ear: “He’s a tiger spirit.” I gasped lightly and looked at the man. He gave me a goofy toothy grin, his posture loosening as he made himself more comfortable. I slipped into the hostess mode and started offering drinks and food and he indulged happily, even getting Taehyung to take a glass with him. I listened to their gentle teasing for a while, content with watching him be so happy and carefree.

“So if one wants to see your face around these parts, they have to come here, huh?” said the tiger with a little smirk and winked towards me. I giggled and added: “As long as my husband isn’t home.” I immediately blushed, but the feelings of shame I used to feel over this have ebbed away and now I could only feel a little twinge of it as a phantom pain, before I put it away and focused on the men in my presence.

“Oh, I know your husband very well,” the man said, his face turning into a mysterious sharp hungry grin, “He isn’t home very often.” Taehyung tensed behind me, and I glanced at him, before throwing a confused smile at the visitor.

“What do you mean you know my husband well?” I asked, ignoring the way Taehyung’s hands tightened around me. I refused to turn his way, instead focusing my all attention at the dangerous being sat in front of us.

“He plays cards out of his league,” the man stated, eyes glinting with some feral contentment, “He lost a lot of money to a lot of people. An especially big sum to a certain very dangerous man that likes to prowl around those parlours.” It felt as if I was thrown into a freezing water, the panic seizing me at this information. I had known, to a certain extent, that he must have gotten himself into something, but losing in cards and owing money to someone dangerous, that would absolutely destroy my life alongside his. Distressed, I looked to Taehyung, who immediately pushed his hand into my hair in an attempt to comfort me.

“Hyung, stop that,” he scolded the man gently, “Stop scaring her.” I blinked at Taehyung owlishly.

“You knew?” I whispered the question, my heart aching when the dark-haired man looked away with guilt etched into his handsome face.

“I told him,” the older man piped up again, gently inserting himself back into the conversation he himself started, “I happen to have an insight into the situation. Don’t fear, dear, this is between your husband and the forces he messed with.” The vague statement did nothing to ease my anxiety and my eyes flitted between the two men again, but I chose to not say anything anymore. They shared a resolute look, full of determination, and then moved on from the topic.

Mr. Min, as I finally learnt his name, stayed for a better part of the afternoon, only departing once the night fell with only the moon lighting his way. His sharp eyes seemed to glow in the dark and once again I was reminded that he was a spirit of the mountain. I snickered gently at that. Look at me, the cursed widow dining with a demon and a tiger. If the old ladies in my home village knew that, they would lose their minds.

Taehyung wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched his friend go, looking at my amusement fondly, but the way his hand squeezed me I could tell he was worried about the conversation we had. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and contemplated whether to bring it up again.

He sensed it, his face turning a little guilty and sheepish again, before turning to me, grabbing both of my shoulders and saying: “Y/N, do you trust me?” Did I? Of course I did. I loved him, I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. He never failed me, never gave me a reason not to trust him. So I nodded firmly.

“Then know that it will be taken care of,” he stated, voice gentle and kind, “I wouldn’t let this impact you.” I nodded again, looking at him fondly before caving in and seeking the warmth of his embrace. He held me tightly, then and through the night, whispering words of love. I trusted them.

I should have known that this would smudge lines, that me living my little fantasy with Taehyung and him living in the house fully visible would lead to us being careless and slipping. But still, when it happened, I was sorely unprepared for the whirlwind it started.

We depended too much on the belief that Minhwan wouldn’t return home early. He didn’t, in the past weeks. Every morning, I would watch the sun climb pretty high up on the sky before the door slammed open and he trudged in wordlessly demanding food. Taehyung spent the mornings lazily spread out in the bed, stretching like an over-sized cat, grinning at me lazily and watching me get ready for the day. And usually I would be woken up by his gentle hands or kisses, or by the sun shining through to my face, or the cold would make me turn and snuggle deeper into my lover’s arms.

So when I got woken up by a scream, I was shocked and confused to my core. I jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and looking for the source of the commotion, heart beating out of my chest and throat tight. It was a cry of rage, a man’s ire bursting through the quiet comfortable space of early morning.

There was a flash of movement and then suddenly I was being painfully pulled out of the bed by my upper arm. I cried out, legs fighting to get into working order and stop the pain from the uncomfortable angle. Suddenly I was face to face with a seething Minhwan, his face red and bloated, twisted into a grimace of pure primal rage. He grabbed onto both of my shoulders, nails digging into my skin until I feared he would draw blood, shaking me violently.

He screamed something, but I was too tired and shocked to fully comprehend what has happened. Panic started pumping through my veins, my breathing getting out of my control as I choked on the instinctual fear of being met with a man in such an emotional state. He shook me again and I got dizzy. Behind me the bed was empty, but very obviously slept in.

 As if wading through a thick fog, I finally realised he must have seen Taehyung in the bed and my knees buckled. He let me fall, let me knock painfully into the wooden floor as he paced around the door. Thoughts going a mile a minute I scrambled to try and come up with something, with anything instead of just sitting there staring dumbly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, slipping slowly down as my mouth opened and closed. My head hurt, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might just tear right out of my body. I looked at my shaking hands and released a few strained breaths.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Minhwan was suddenly screaming right into my face and I flinched. It was as if a filter lifted off of the world and the sound was suddenly getting to me fully, the thumping of his feet on the floor, his ragged breathing, his enraged mumblings. I stared at him blankly for a moment and in a split second decided to play it the only way I could.

“W-what happened?” I asked quietly, still looking at him with wide confused eyes, movements sluggish. I put a hand to my head, shaking it from side to side. At least I didn’t have to pretend I had a headache.

Minhwan stopped pacing and regarded me with suspicion. Come on, I prayed to myself, I know you must have seen him disappear in front of your eyes. He watched me for a moment, and I made sure to look as disoriented as I could, blinking blearily around and pulling a blanket closer over my rapidly cooling body. The seconds ticked away as he just looked around the room, watched the bed, the doors, as if measuring whether the man could have gotten away around him. He wasn’t saying anything for the longest time, and I felt like I was losing my mind, fearing any moment he’ll decide I was a liar and do god knows what in a fit of rage, but then he looked at me again with eyes filled with more confusion and fear than rage.

“Do you really not know?” he inquired, and his voice was grating to me, rough from speaking and drinking the whole night. I nodded slowly and then asked again: “What happened? Why were you screaming?” His face filled with determination, and he wordlessly walked out of the room. I scrambled to follow after him.

“Where are you going? What’s going on?” I hammered him, looking for a confirmation that I was safe, at least for the moment, but he just silently started fastening his hat back on. Finally, right before walking back out of the door, he turned to me and said: “I’m getting the exorcist.”

The next few hours I spent sitting in the house in panicked silence, wondering what my fate would be beyond this day. What would the shamaness say? How will this go? Do I have to pretend to get exorcised? I tried calling out to Taehyung, but he didn’t respond once. I bit my nails and paced around the house, counting every second ticking by as if waiting for execution.

By the time the door slid open again and stone-faced Minhwan stepped in, my nerves were completely frayed, and I could barely support my own weight on my shaking knees. My head snapped into the direction of the noise, and I saw a man and a woman step inside. The moment their eyes landed on me, they bowed slightly to me, but said nothing and instead followed my husband through the house into the bedroom. I hurriedly trailed after them, shaky hands with nails bitten almost bloody grasping onto my skirt to ground myself at least a little bit.

When I stepped into the room, Minhwan was gesturing to the bed, still unmade as I was too panicked to clean, and explaining what had happened.

“I walked in and saw four feet instead of two,” he said darkly, anger shining through to the surface again, “They were clearly man’s feet. I threw a shoe at him and started screaming, but then he was just gone. He disappeared into thin air. When she woke up, she was disoriented and had no idea what was going on.” I listened to him with a lump in my throat and when they all turned to look at me standing in the door, my knees almost buckled. I hoped that my nervousness would be interpreted as my unawareness, but when the woman’s eyes bore into me with a startling intensity, I couldn’t help but flinch and look down.

She came over to me and an expectant silence fell over the room, all of us collectively holding our breath and waiting for her judgement. She grabbed my chin, not roughly but definitely not gently, and moved my head so that I was looking at her. Her eyes flitted across my face, in search of something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I wondered how I must have looked to her. Did I look guilty? Did I look sick? What did she see?

She examined me for a moment and then let me go and stepped back to the man. She looked at him and nodded.

“It is a demon of sickness,” the man spoke, “He was draining your wife’s life energy, eventually saddling her with plague or similar illness. It is good you caught him before he did irreparable damage to her.” I touched my own face, wondering how bad I looked for her to come to the conclusion I was getting drained in such a way, but felt immense relief. Before I caught myself, I swayed, the feelings of anxiety crashing onto me, leaving my body too weak to stay upright. I crashed into the door and barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor full force. The woman rushed to me and pulled me up, holding onto my arm and helping me stand in a manner she must have believed was comforting.

“Don’t worry, darling, he will not get you,” she whispered in a raspy old voice, “We will take care of this.” I mumbled something out, an insincere thanks, and propped myself up by the door. Instinctively I looked to Minhwan and found him already looking at, eyes coldly assessing me. He was scaring me, I had no idea where I stood with him and what was going through his mind, but I hoped this would buy me some time. I looked back to the floor and started smoothing out my skirts with shaky hands.

“We will get the supplies we’ll need and return tomorrow with the dawn,” the man spoke again, looking mainly to Minhwan, “For tonight, hang garlic and onion around the house. The foul smell will keep the demons away. I will draw you a talisman for your door and main gate, plaster it on the wood and keep it there until we come.” My husband curtly nodded.

The pair started moving towards the door to leave and Minhwan followed them out. I took the time to slide down to the door. I was trying to keep myself calm, but the stressed tears came anyway, rolling down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Once Minhwan returned, I was silently sobbing on the floor, too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in these few hours.

Minhwan regarded me silently and then moved to the main room, sat by the fireplace and didn’t speak again. I sat there, filled with dread, and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to fly off of his handle and do something, but the house was eerily silent. In the end I pulled myself together and moved about my day as if nothing was happening, as if Minhwan wasn’t sitting in the other room counting minutes before sun went down. The uncomfortable atmosphere stretched over us like a suffocating blanket and even though I went with the motions, cooked food and served it, I wasn’t even interested in eating, and neither seemed to be Minhwan.

With dark setting over the dwelling, the moon shining over the snow and creating a silver glow over everything, I found myself anxiously glancing at my husband to see whether he would leave, but he stayed firmly sat. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had to have a talk with Taehyung, confide in him and see what he thinks we should do. I desperately craved his comfort and calming presence, I needed him to hold me and kiss me and whisper about all the things he loved, I needed him to whisk me away into the woods and keep me away from this life I had found myself in.

As I paced around the bedroom nervously, I realised that. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to flee into his reality and leave my own behind. I needed to talk to Taehyung soon.

The door slid open, and I flinched and instinctively moved a few steps further into the room. Minhwan looked at me, his eyes empty and dark, and then moved to the corner of the room, sitting down and staring soullessly at me.

“Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?” came his gruff voice when I stood there frozen for too long, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could hear a certain accusation in it and my heart jumped into my throat. Without saying anything, I mechanically moved to my vanity and started brushing my hair while keeping an eye on my husband’s dark form slouched in the corner. His eyes never left me, slowly with every second ticking by filling with more and more pure hatred.

The room felt as if it was freezing, the air so heavy with tension I could taste it on my tongue. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, my clammy hands squeezing around the brush.

“I feel quite stupid now, you see,” Minhwan started suddenly, his cold voice startling me. I turned around to look at him, trying to keep my expression neutral but knowing I probably looked truly scared and guilty. He stared at me expectantly, but when I failed to say anything, he continued.

“I saw it,” he simply stated, “the hairpin.” It felt as if time stopped, the blood freezing in my veins with one simple word. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I ultimately failed to say anything. He knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to the market to buy it myself, there was nothing I could say to excuse that.

“I saw how certain mornings you seemed to be flustered,” he continued quietly, “how you changed, I saw the flowers you tried to hide.” He chuckled darkly, mirthlessly, but stayed sprawled out in the corner, watching me. I sat frozen in front of my vanity, brush still in hand, thoughts going a mile a minute.

“I ignored it, of course,” Minhwan carried on, seemingly okay with being the only one to talk, “I know how hard it is to get here and there’s no one close enough to sneak here like this. But when I went to town for the shamaness, I started remembering these moments. I saw the hairpin in my mind, as clear as day. And it made sense. Whatever he is, you knew about him.” I gulped, but said nothing, staring at my hands. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movements and I looked up startled. Minhwan was now moving towards me, slow and calculated, and dread filled me.

I looked up at him and couldn’t help a few stray tears escaping me. Minhwan watched me coldly, but it was so different than what I was used to from him and it terrified me. This was a different kind of rage, the kind that made people unpredictable, the kind when you know the person is so angry they’ve become calm.

He slowly threaded his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly until I could feel slight pain. He angled my head, watching the tears slide down my face with a scowl. Then he pushed my head away and released my hair, sending me crashing into the vanity. I caught myself on my hands, but the impact still hurt and I whimpered through the tears.

I heard Minhwan moving about the room, thrashing the chest I kept some of my belongings in, tearing through my fine robes and sending little reminders and keepsakes flying through the room and crashing into the floor and the walls. With every crash I flinched again and again, shrinking into myself and slowly slinking into the corner behind my vanity.

Minhwan finally got to what he was looking for – the dried flowers and other little gifts Taehyung has been bringing me. Whatever he got his hands on, he destroyed, tearing the flowers apart or breaking things by throwing them on the floor. I watched him helplessly, now fully sobbing as I witnessed my life being torn apart.

Minhwan paid me no mind, his eyes catching onto something in the chest. He bent over to pull out the object, and I eyed him carefully before I realised what it was. The hairpin. He glanced over at me and when he saw my eyes trained to it, he smirked with such malice it made shiver. He gripped it with both hands and then with a quick gesture broke it in half. Before I could stop myself, I cried out with my hands outstretched going to grab it, grab him, just do anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. Minhwan threw the broken pin on the floor, and I watched the little gem break away and fall through the tiles.

Minhwan walked over to me again and crouched down so he could look at me closer.

“Did he get you pregnant?” he suddenly asked, and it was such an unexpected question it shocked me into silence as I just stared at him dumbly. Then I just slowly shook my head. Minhwan’s face stayed impassive. He just stared at me until I started squirming in my place, my skin crawling with fear and nervousness.

Then he just got up and walked out.

I stayed put, not daring to move from my place, but I strained my ears to hear whatever he was doing. He walked around the main room for a moment and then his footsteps seemed to get further away until I heard the door slide open, slide shut and then silence. I held my breath, waiting for a moment before I allowed myself to decompress, immediately slumping down onto the ground. With the stress rapidly draining from my body, I found myself a shaking crying mess. I crawled over to the chest and grabbed onto whatever destroyed piece of memory I could, cradling them to my chest and desperately hoping that I could mend it, that it would all go away. That I’d wake up in Taehyung’s arms and he’d console me and tell me it was all a bad dream.

I didn’t sleep that night. And Minhwan didn’t return in the morning. The shamaness and her husband came knocking with the dawn and I sat on the porch and expressionlessly watched the main gate rattle and shake under their fists, listened to their raised concerned voices calling to be let in. I was drained, empty and exhausted. I waited until they got tired of it and left, and then I continued sitting there watching the trees move, the sun travel the sky. I could barely feel the frost biting at my fingers, my arms, my face. I could barely feel anything.

For two days, I waited. I sat around the house and watched the walls, walked around the yard and looked outside, into the forest and the trees. Minhwan didn’t return. Taehyung didn’t return. I was completely alone, in the silent house, just wondering whether I was forsaken by both of them, wondering what would happen if neither of them came back.

On the dawn of the third day, I heard footsteps in the yard. My stomach dropped and my heart felt like a piece of ice. Footsteps meant Minhwan. Footsteps meant the end of my life, meant my husband was back and there was no telling what he would do.

I drew the blanket closer to myself and resignedly made my way outside. I would accept whatever was to come. Except the moment I slid the door open, I saw a sheepish Taehyung nervously stepping from foot to foot in our yard. I could only guess how I looked, but when he saw me, he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, arms immediately pulling me into his chest. I felt my resolve break and desperately clawed at him, pulled him closer, just needing to touch him and make sure he was real and he came back.

He pulled back and I whined, but he took my face into his hands, gazing upon me with tenderness and sadness and despair. His fingers smoothed out the worried lines on my face, touched the puffy cheeks and eyes, gently caressed my face until I could see my vision blurring with unshed tears. Taehyung sighed and bent down to lightly kiss my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice like soft caress for my soul after days of loneliness and solitude, and sudden onslaught of emotions hit me like a stone wall. I grabbed onto his robe and looked into his kind beautiful eyes.

“Where were you?” it came out choked on a sob and I couldn’t even wait for his answer before the dam broke and I started crying. Taehyung held me through it, he took me in his arms and carried me inside, petted my back and held my face, whispered to me and it almost felt like a huge déjà vu to the first night I let him get closer to me. He apologised again and again, and I should have pressed for more answers, but I was so relieved he returned, I couldn’t bring myself to ask more.

When I calmed down, Taehyung’s attention was finally drawn to the state of the house. I didn’t clean up the bedroom, I barely even slept, and all the broken things were still lying around. It must have been quite a sight – a broken life, and in the middle of it all, a broken me. But instead of saying anything, he just reached over to grab the remnants of the hairpin. I watched him wordlessly, heart struck with grief at the sight of it, but he played with it for a moment, eyes peeking over at me and grinning mischievously. I returned it shakily, heavy emotions still weighing the corners of my mouth down but I tried, head leaning on his shoulder.

He encased the broken parts of it into his hands and shook them little. I thought nothing of it, watching his hands turn from side to side, expecting this to be just a way to distract me, but when his hands stopped, he uncovered his palm with a grand gesture and I gasped. There, lying on his palm, was the hairpin in one piece, looking as if it’s never been broken.

I immediately went to grab it, but he moved his hand away, keeping it out of my reach. Instead, he grabbed my brush and started slowly brushing out my tangled unkept hair. I let him care for me, I sat there on the floor of my thrashed bedroom, leaned on him and listened to him hum as he played with my hair. When Tae was satisfied with it, he tied my hair with his red ribbon and then pushed in the hairpin.

The fondness in his eyes when he looked over his work warmed my heart, and I relaxed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Taehyung whispered again, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I shook my head and tightened my arms around him.

“There was nothing you could have done,” I told him and attempted to smile. I wanted to ease his worries, but I still felt too shaken.

“I should have been here,” Taehyung reiterated, “You needed me, and I failed you.” I squeezed his waist, trying to share comfort to him as he did to me. He looked at me fondly with a little smile, then kissed me gently.

“Where were you?” I asked again, this time much more calmly. Taehyung’s face fell immediately and I expected him not to want to tell me, but with some difficulty he started talking.

“I went to my hyung,” he admitted to me, and I realised there was guilt in his expression, “I asked him to sort something out for me.” I looked at him confused, but his face has turned hard and cold, gazing out of the room. I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he returned.

“We need to leave,” I blurted out suddenly, the calmness leaving my body. I turned on my knees and grabbed onto his clothed shoulders, looking into his eyes with urgency. Taehyung smiled at me and attempted to sit me back down, but I wouldn’t let him. “We really need to leave, before my husband returns,” I continued, the words falling out of me quickly, “I don’t know where he went, he hasn’t returned for a few days, but when he returns I cannot say what he will do.”

Taehyung’s hands pushed onto my shoulders, gentle smile on his face, mouth opening to tell me something, no doubt to calm down, but I jumped in before he got a chance.

“No, you don’t understand Taehyung, he knows,” I whispered urgently, “He knows about us. When he returns… Taehyung, I’m scared of what will happen…” I trailed off, hands flexing and bunching up the fabric of his robes. A few stray tears escaped my eyes, and I was surprised I even had some left in me, after the last few days.

Taehyung gave me a soft smile, hands coming up to hold my face. He gently wiped my tears away and bent down to kiss my forehead, my nose and finally my lips. I watched him, despair mixing with love and fear inside of me, making me feel like I was about to explode. I didn’t know how else explain to him that we weren’t safe here.

“I’m ready to leave,” I whispered again, desperate and broken, “Please Taehyung, I’ll go with you. I’m ready to go. There’s nothing left here.” He said nothing, but caressed my hair, fingers smoothing out the edges of my cold wet face. His eyes were trained on his hands moving on my skin, as if he wasn’t registering what I said at all. I could see in them that he was battling something, lips pursed in a bittersweet smile like they were trying to keep in some awful truths.

My heart gave a few painful pumps before it felt like it stilled completely. My hands fell from him as despair and hurt took over. Suddenly the realisation hit me, the realisation of what this must have been for him. A goodbye. My lips curled around a silent sob, but I couldn’t cry more, there was nothing left inside.

Taehyung noticed my plight and immediately pulled back into him, and I realised why he looked so guilty when we sat down.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words barely left my mouth, so quiet they could be barely heard, but Taehyung reacted to them immediately, arms tightening around me.

“No, darling, of course I’m not,” he replied, but I didn’t want to hear more lies, not now and not ever. My own hands balled into fists in my lap.

“Please, tell me the truth,” I said resolutely, looking straight into his eyes that were coloured by confusion at my statement. “What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked, lost and worried. His hands travelled across my shoulders and back, grabbing onto anywhere they could and then passing on as he tried to comfort me without fully knowing what was happening.

“You didn’t respond before,” I told him, and the realisation seemed to hit him almost instantly. “Oh, darling,” he whispered and kissed me softly again, “of course I want you to leave with me. But…” He seemed to struggle there, looking down to his lap guiltily, fingers digging into my shoulders nervously. I grabbed onto his shoulders too and pressed a little closer, until our faces were just a breath away.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate for a resolution, desperate to leave this all behind and go into the woods with him, follow him wherever he’d take me.

“Your husband…” Taehyung started and I tensed at the mention, but I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next, “he isn’t coming back.” I scrunched my face up in confusion. Taehyung avoided my eyes again, this time looking towards the door with a quiet resolution painted on his face.

“What are you talking about?” I pushed out of my mouth, mind muddled and tongue tied, “Of course he is, and he’ll bring all hell back with him.” Taehyung sighed, hands flexing into my skin.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he reiterated, urgency taking over his sweet, honeyed tone, “He isn’t coming back. Ever.” I froze when I finally put together what he had tried to tell me. I wish I could say I was terrified. I wish I could say that I was filled with dread and panic and disgust instead of relief, I wish I could say that I pushed him away, confused and hurt, instead of letting out a shocked laugh, hands immediately searching for his face. I turned him so he’d look at me.

He was painted with shame and guilt, with fear that I would hate him for the implication, so I gently caressed his face and laid a little kiss over his furrowed brows. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. My heart was beating fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of nervousness or joy. I wondered whether that made me a bad person, whether I was cursed after all. But when Taehyung opened his eyes and gave me a toothy grin, it didn’t seem to matter much.

“What did you do?” I asked the question in a hushed whisper, as if discussing my husband’s demise was a thrilling secret just between the two of us. Based on the dark-haired man’s reaction to it he was expecting to hear a horror-struck tone, not the casualness with which I spoke about this matter, but he shook the surprise quick enough.

“Do you remember my hyung? The tiger?” Taehyung begun his explanation, a small smile taking over his face when I nodded in answer, “He was the one your husband owed money to. It was a matter of time before he’d gotten himself reaped, I just called in an early favour.” I frowned slightly at that.

“You mean that my husband was always destined to die?” the question was asked more out of curiosity than concern, but Taehyung still seemed to be a little on edge, fearing my reaction and attempting to gauge my emotional state. Still, he indulged me.

“He was since the moment he decided to play cards against a spirit,” Taehyung explained, “Tigers don’t play for money. We have no need for earthly possessions. But the more the human loses to you, the more under your power they are. With the mounting debt, the spirit only bides his time, terrorising the soul and pushing them into losing more. Then the spirit only waits until they’ve lost the amount of money that could buy their soul, before reaping. Your husband was a lost cause since Yoongi set his eyes on him.” I took in the information slowly, but to me his death was inconsequential now. Taehyung would take me away, I didn’t have to fear being left behind and collected by a family-in-law and living out the rest of my life as a proper widow, a property of my husband’s relatives. With that my only concern was taken care of and I found myself empty of any big reactions regarding his impending sudden demise.

“Do souls have prices, then?” I inquired more, interested in his earlier statement. Taehyung’s eyes sparkled slightly, as if he was delighted I wanted to know more, delighted that I wasn’t mourning, that I didn’t think him a murderer.

“Yes they do,” he answered simply, “a saint would be hard to tempt, the amount would be higher. A tyrant on the other hand, a sinner, they don’t take much.” I hummed quietly, absent-mindedly playing with some of Taehyung’s long hair. It didn’t take much to know which category my husband fell to. Getting my questions answered, I was satisfied to let this subject go. I felt as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart. I found myself cautiously hopeful, looking forward to leaving this house and everything in it behind, letting it rot and fall to the ground and never return. But Taehyung seemed to have something else on his mind still.

“It was me,” he confessed quietly and suddenly, leaving me confused what he meant. He looked at me, gauging my reaction, fingers nervously playing with the edge of my jeogori. “It was me who told hyung to seek him out and tempt him into playing,” the man finally got out and it seemed as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders too.

I said nothing, hands migrating to caress his hair gently, smiling softly, and then getting up. I walked across the room to where my possessions laid strewn across the floor as if they were violently gutted from the insides of the chest. I found a cloth big enough and started piling the most important things inside. Taehyung watched me quietly, unsure of where I stood, still believing I could shun him for this. I smiled at him again when I caught his sad eyes watching my hands move. He returned it, in the same cautiously hopeful way I felt, and I could just think to myself. How perfect. We’re perfect like this.

“I just need to grab a few things and we can go,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. His returning one was as bright as the sun itself and I felt my drained heart tiredly jumping in joy.

When I gathered everything, he took the bundle from me gently into one of his hands, the other holding mine as I quietly led him out of the cold empty house. Outside, the air was crisp and freezing, but the sun was shining and it filled me with happiness. The snow was sparkling, reflecting the rays of sunlight, blinding me slightly, but I had everything I needed, and it was a beautiful day outside. I squeezed Taehyung’s hand and he returned it.

Once stood in the gate, I turned back to the house wordlessly. I could see through the open doors the mess that was left inside, the state of the bedroom, and the two trails of footsteps leaving forever. Taehyung watched me carefully, making sure I was okay. I nodded at him and he grinned gently. We both turned and walked away.

He led me through the forest, up the mountain path. I’d never been here before, and it seemed that it was a long time since someone else than the demon himself took this path. Briefly I wondered if it even was visible to other people or if it was one of those paths you see once out of the corner of your eyes and then never find it again, even if curiosity kills you from the inside.

Taehyung was walking confidently now, once we crossed the threshold into his world he gained strength and resolve and led me through the trees until we reached a little clearing with a dwelling firmly in the middle of it.

It was smaller than our farm, but it looked much nicer, with little windchimes and colourful decorations hanging from the beam over the porch. Their clanking created a nice ambience in the background and their colourful flashes reflected off of the snow. I smiled fondly at that, feeling at ease.

The house only really had two smaller rooms and a kitchen, but they were filled with books and clothes and paintings. Taehyung seemed to be a lover of arts, his walls full of various pieces varying from flowers to landscapes and portraits. I peeked at them curiously, but Taehyung seemed eager to pull me along until we reached the other room, where a bed was unfolded but untouched. There was a vanity on one side, very similar to the one I had, ready with a brush and another beautiful hairpin sitting next to it, waiting for their owner. I smiled at that, heart filled with so much love it felt like bursting.

Taehyung carefully laid the bundle with my things on the ground and then skipped back over to me, plastering himself to my back, arms possessively coiling around me and lips and nose immediately running over the expanse of the skin at my shoulder and neck. I shuddered lightly, noting his palpable excitement at bringing me to his home.

“This will be our bedroom from now on,” he whispered in a rough voice, laying a series of wet open-mouthed kisses down my shoulder, “This house will become a home.” His hand splayed over my stomach and pushed me more into his form, his heated body melting over me instantly, lips travelling wherever a sliver of skin presented itself to them.

I shuddered lightly, squirming in his arms. I managed to turn to face him and immediately was met with fond eyes full of unshed tears. I grabbed his face and gently pressed our lips together. I meant for the kiss to stay innocent, but Taehyung clearly had a different idea, descending onto me with an urgency of a starving man, lips devouring mine in a hot all-consuming kiss.

I moaned lightly into his mouth, hands tightening in his clothes and subconsciously pulling him closer to me. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, sighing with content when it met mine and twisted and pushed around each other. He towered over me, with every second bending down a little more, making me arch into the kiss. The dark-haired man was grabbing onto my hips, as strong as a vice, digging fingers into the layers of fabric with such force I still felt his nails biting into my skin. My own hands slowly travelled up, tangling into his hair and wrapping around his neck. When I pulled on the strand lightly, Taehyung sighed into my mouth and pushed us closer together.

My mind was quickly becoming muddled, only thoughts of the man in my arms swimming around in my brain, body heating up rapidly and begging for his attention in the way that he used to give me. And with the way he held onto me and pressed into me, he was in a similar state.

Without interrupting our kiss, Taehyung started slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled me with him. I gasped slightly and finally broke our kiss to breathe and take in the new position, but Tae didn’t get discouraged and continued his path down my jawline and my neck. I had enough mind to breathlessly move my head out of the way and present my neck for him, which made him hum appreciatively, his low deep voice purring into my skin. All I could really do was hold on to him and let the sensations sail me further.

I could feel his hands inching higher, until they were kneading my waist, thumbs slipping under the jeogori and messing with my undergarments. My whole body trembled like a plucked string, desire wreaking havoc on my psyche. I released a shaky sigh and decided to be a little bit braver. I grabbed one of his hands, Taehyung making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t stop his ministrations, and I pushed it towards the bow tying my top together.

Taehyung paused only for a second, eyes searching mine for any kind of hesitation, but I only blushed under his heated gaze, the lust taking over the control of my body and pushing my chest more into his curious hands. He no longer wasted time after that, leaning a bit back and making quick work of the binding and soon he had me sitting in his lap in only my undergarments. My lips found his again, needing to feel his touch more than I needed to breathe oxygen.

With new skin now visible Taehyung seemed to be over the moon, a little content sighs and quiet moans leaving his mouth as his fingers travelled across the expanse of my shoulder blades and my arms. The intensity of the kiss kept increasing, my body confusedly trying to move with the motions and seek even more pleasure. When Taehyung gently bit on my lower lip, my hips jerked forward on their own and I could feel a hardness sliding across my centre. We both gasped, Taehyung’s hands jumping to my hips to stop them, but I felt as if a lighting struck me to my core, pleasure zapping through me on a jolt. I gasped, hips mindlessly chasing after the feeling again. Taehyung separated the kiss on a groan, his head falling to my shoulder, hands now encouraging my hips to move instead of stopping them.

For a moment we just enjoyed each other, mindlessly kissing here, grabbing onto each other and chasing the pleasure, moving against each other. I managed to get Taehyung out of his outer robes too and he was clad only in a thin undershirt that teased a little bit of his collarbones, which I immediately covered in kisses. We didn’t speak and the room was filled with the sounds of shifting clothes and airy little gasps and moans, but I needed more. I needed so much more.

Taehyung’s lips travelled down to the edge of my undergarment, kissing the soft swell teasing my breasts, and I gasped and arched and curved into him, but I could feel the smirk settling on his face as he moved away again. I whined, mind gone and begging for more solid touch, for his hand between my legs and his lips biting into my shoulders.

I pushed onto his shoulders and as Taehyung wasn’t expecting it, he went easily, slight alarm painting his face, but I just grabbed him and pulled his face back to mine. The moment our lips crashed together, I keened, licking into his mouth desperately. The dark-haired man chuckled, but he seemed to take pity on me.

With one hand gently laid on my lower back, he slowly toppled us over until I was lying on the ground with his weight settling gently on top of me, legs tangled and lips intertwined. With a wet smack our lips separated and for a moment we both just looked at each other breathing hard, but then the time and reality caught up to my overheated excited brain and I immediately started tearing at his clothes, untying anything I got my hands on and pushing the fabric away until his whole torso was on display.

I choked on a moan, the desire reigniting within me tenfold. He was beautiful, strong and lean, honey-toned skin blemishless and perfect. Distracted with all the possibilities and my body screaming at me to have the man take me now, take me as soon as possible, my hands wildly flitted over his chest, kneading the skin but not settling anywhere for too long. I decided to pay back the favour and my lips latched onto his neck, making him shudder and moan. I played around lightly, just like he had, kissing anywhere I could, moving south to his pecks and then back up all the way to his ear with wet open-mouthed kisses, revealing just how far gone I was and how needy he made me with his earlier ministrations.

Taehyung buried his face into the crook of my neck, skin rippling with every touch, releasing low groans right into my ear, which made me work even harder. I was ecstatic that I was finally able to touch him too, ecstatic by the prospect of returning the pleasure he had been bestowing me with all these mornings that would have otherwise been cold and lonely.

With that thought in mind, my hands shifted to his hips, at first seemingly just sitting there and holding onto him, but slowly moving downwards, pushing the pants down. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at first, but once I got low enough to expose the v of his hips and the thicker part of his happy trail, he let out a loud excited groan, body shaking with anticipation.

His lips pressed into my ear. “Do you want to see me? Touch me?” he whispered, voice rough and aroused. I gasped quietly, legs falling open more so that he could settle his hips more comfortably and I could see the moment I finally pushed them low enough, breath held in excitement.

“Yes, please,” I answered in a similarly debauched hushed voice, “please, Taehyung.” His chest rumbled happily, lips busying themselves with biting and kissing into my neck. I must have been absolutely covered with little red and purple bruises and the thought sent a bolt of arousal through me, my body jerking underneath the bigger man.

“Go ahead then, darling,” he said sensually, regaining back a little control. His hips stiffened, allowing me to pull them down the final stretch, releasing his erection. It hit his lower stomach with a tiny noise, the wet tip leaving a little smear of clear liquid there. I clenched on nothing, a gush of wetness suddenly leaving me at the prospect of having him inside of me. He was watching me closely, a wild look on his face, and the more excited I felt, the hungrier he looked.

Then Taehyung pressed his face to mine again, lips caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered: “Do you want it? Do you want my cock, darling?” I nodded, a whimper escaping me, thighs and pussy throbbing with pure burning need. I was so aroused my head was spinning and every thought inside curled around the pleasure this man was providing me with. He clicked his tongue though, and shook his head a little, giving me a playful grin.

“Then you need to say it,” he stated meanly, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good girls always ask for it.” The way his tongue wrapped around the words good girl made me borderline delirious, back arching and thighs spreading even further, until my hips hurt and I was gasping with the liquid lust coursing through my veins.

“Please!” I whined out again, hands grabbing onto his searing hot skin and attempting to pull him closer, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no, darling,” his voice seemed even darker and richer than usual and I was losing my mind on the little rasp, his tongue peeking out to play with the lobe of my ear quickly sending me spinning, “You need to say it.”

“Please, Taehyung,” I choked out, a few tears of frustrated arousal slipping down my cheeks, “I want you.” He smiled, giving me false sense of victory, but still kept his hips away from mine. I whined again, not knowing what else to do.

“I want to hear the words from your mouth, darling,” he stated firmly, “Say ‘Please Taehyung, I want your cock’.” I gasped at his words, the flush on my face deepening despite the lewdness of the situation I already found myself in. My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips and Taehyung’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, fascinated.

“I want your cock,” I whispered, the arousal pushing me into boldness I’ve never displayed before, “Please, Taehyung, I want your cock so bad.” He groaned and I saw the exact moment his pupils expanded with pure lust and his eyes were overtaken by desire to have me. While his lips crashed to mine, his hand grabbed one of mine and pulled it towards his cock and wrapping it around it.

I squeezed on instinct and Taehyung moaned into me, hips bucking gently. I took a moment to feel him out, just gently ran my hands over the ridges and curves. I could feel the way Taehyung trembled, the way his breathing stuttered on tiny, muted groans, his eyes firmly shut. His hands grabbed onto my thighs and dug into them through the underskirt still half covering me from his eyes.

When I began sliding my hand up and down the shaft, Taehyung’s head once again fell to my shoulder, open mouth pressing into my skin and releasing rugged moans. His hips jerked forward in tiny motions, thrusting lightly into my curled hands. I was content with touching him, but my body also screamed for attention, thighs shaking and muscles in my belly contracting in pleasurable little ripples. I was so wet I could feel my essence sliding down my thighs and my bottom, leaving a little puddle on the bedding under us.

I squeezed around him lightly and he jerked into my hands harder, a debauched groan leaving him. I spasmed, pussy pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled up to the brim, an answering moan leaving my own lips. Taehyung looked at me through half-lidded eyes, reason completely overridden by the need to push himself into my tight wet heat at the clear need depicted on my face, he shuddered again, pre-cum leaking out the red tip of his painfully erect cock.

His hands scrambled to grab my skirt and push it up my legs until it pooled around my stomach, wet pussy exposed to his needy hands. He didn’t waste any time and pulled his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit for a moment and punching out desperate moans out of me, whole body spasming at the sudden onslaught of pleasure cursing through me, but then his fingers hurriedly slid down and pushed inside of me. At the feeling of his fingers getting so easily swallowed up by my wet cunt he groaned, thrusting them in a little and scissoring to make sure I was absolutely ready to take a cock, but both of us were beyond gone with desire.

I was enjoying the feeling of finally having something inside of me, but it didn’t last for long. After a few hurried thrusts of his fingers, Taehyung pulled his hand away and I whined, arching my back, pussy chasing after him. He quickly swatted my hands from his length and lowered his hips until we were pressing into each other, his cock snuggly sliding through my wet folds.

Our breaths were knocked out of us on deep satisfied groans. He moved his hips back and forth a few times, coating himself in my juices to ensure easier slide, and then pushed inside with one firm motion, cock driving inside of me without any resistance, filling me absolutely all the way up on the first thrust. I threw my head back, mouth open on a silent scream, the contentment of finally having him inside me lighting my every nerve on fire and satisfying something deep inside of my core. I trembled, desperately holding onto him as my brain turned to mush with barely anything.

Taehyung was having more trouble staying silent, mouth open and instantly pumping out groans and moans, shaky hands keeping my hips still and desperately trying to stop himself from immediately mindlessly driving into the divine pleasure that was the feeling of being enveloped by my wet tight walls.

I whimpered and squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto him. I wasn’t even fully aware of myself, body and mind consumed by the heavenly feeling of being filled by him.

“Please!” I whined out loud, desperately needing him to finally start doing something, like there was an itch deep inside of me that needed scratching, “Please, give me more!”

Taehyung chuckled above me, trying to stay suave and smooth but I could hear how breathless he was, could feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. His hips trembled against mine, jumping with excitement at my words.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid back in, making us both sigh with content. He kept the pace slow and deep, covering me with his body and claiming my mouth with his while I fell apart on his well-aimed pace. I moaned on every stroke, arching my hips and spreading my thighs to let him hit deeper, pull him in closer.

The slow build up of the pleasure had me losing my mind. I felt like I was getting gradually submerged into boiling water, the heat steadily rising with every thrust filling me with deep primal satisfaction. My hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, appreciating his smooth skin and muscles as they jumped with movement, soaking up Taehyung’s little hick-uped groans when I passed over sensitive areas.

Taehyung changed the angle a little bit and when he pressed all the way inside, his tip pressed into a spot that had me keening loudly underneath him, eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open. My hands instinctively grabbed onto his waist and squeezed, nails digging into his skin, and Taehyung groaned loudly, hips jerking into me roughly, punching out a whiny moan out of me.

That seemed to break us into a frenzy, my hands sliding down his body and grabbing onto his ass, pushing him into me and encouraging his movements. Taehyung happily took the sign and started thrusting faster and harder, filling the room with sounds of our moans and the wet slapping of our hips. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out of my mouth, his every stroke hitting deep inside me and lighting my every nerve on fire, stoking the lust and the bliss in pulsing consuming waves.

I felt myself getting close to the peak I was so familiar with from his hands, the sensations drowning me and washing over me in over-powering waves. Taehyung’s moans were reaching crescendo, getting higher and whinier as his hips unfalteringly pounded into me.

“So close, darling,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “going to paint you with my seed, going to fill you to the brim.” I moaned in response, pussy throbbing and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper. I needed us both to peak, I needed it more than air to feel him unwind and release, get consumed with pleasure I provided him with.

“God, just a little more,” I answered to him breathlessly on a pleasured sigh. My hands squeezed his bottom and pushed him a little rougher. His breath hitched, but he changed his pace accordingly, slowing down but snapping his hips into me harder and rougher, making me wail with pleasure.

I felt myself spiralling into the heat, knowing I wouldn’t last too long like this. Above me Taehyung watched me through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and face consumed with raw lust at my blissed-out state. I caught his eyes just seconds before my whole body spasmed and then stilled, climax exploding over me with force that shocked a raspy scream out of me. I blanked out, trembling and overflowing with bliss and ecstasy, legs spasming and toes curling with the sensation of the fire consuming me inside out. It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, the most intense thing my body has ever gone through, but I loved every second of it. It felt as if all the stress just drained away from my body and was replaced by molten gold.

Taehyung fucked me through the orgasm, and it took him only a few more thrusts before his hips jerked wildly, pleasure mounting until he released deep inside of me with his head thrown back and a long drawn-out moan. I felt his cock throb and pulse inside of me as it spurted his seed, his hips lightly swaying in circles to ride it out, until the boneless weightless feeling set in and he collapsed on top of me.

I was feeling so content, body pleasantly light and thrumming with aftershocks of our shared moment, eyelids heavy with sleep. I felt Taehyung slip out and move away from me, his release running down my legs and making me blush again, but I didn’t have any strength to move or wipe it away, so I just laid there and waited for the man. He returned with a piece of cloth, still just as naked, shooting me a little playful wink when he saw me looking at his body. I turned around, embarrassed, even though we had just enjoyed each other like husband and wife.

I heard his little chuckle, but then the cloth suddenly pressed onto my thighs, making me gasp quietly. Taehyung squeezed my leg in apology and continued cleaning me up. I couldn’t help the little sighs of content leaving me, the warm cloth and his gentle touches filling my heart with love.

When he was done, he threw the piece of cloth away carelessly, before jumping onto the bedding and snuggling up to me. We ended up like we always have, Taehyung holding me from behind, hands pulling me as close to him as I could go, lips and nose pressing into the crook of my neck and into my hair, trilling happily.

I let it gently lull me to sleep, melting into his loving embrace, listening to his content purrs, our bodies moulding perfectly together like it was always meant to happen. I closed my eyes, and welcomed sleep, feeling the most comfortable I’ve been in years.

I couldn’t remember what I was thinking right before I slipped under, but I did with the feeling of just everything being right.

I would be okay. We would be okay.

hope you enjoyed yourself and see you around <3

A/N: the story of prince cheoyong, the son of the dragon king who neglected his wife to which a demon of pestilence took a liking and sneaked into her bed - one day cheoyong returned home and saw four feet sticking out of the bed instead of two, and he chased out the demon with singing and dancing, saving his wife and becoming a guardian god - it was said that no demon or evil spirit could enter a house as long as there was a likeness of cheoyong there, so people bought his portraits or talismans with his face and put them on their door, but i kind of switched the sides hehe

[wooyoungiewritings]

Fire and water - Seonghwa x Reader

Summary: When you walk into the mechanic, you don't expect to see Seonghwa, the most intimidating person you've ever laid your eyes on. He's the complete opposite of you. But he opens the idea of something you've never considered, and before you know it, the door he has opened for you is already locked behind you.

Word count: 6K

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: smut, fem reader (fem pronouns), reader is very innocent and hwa is very not (lol), nicknames such as kitten and princess, oral sex (f receiving), hwa smokes, semi public sexual activities, lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

The intense smell of gasoline and oil fills your nose as you step into the unfamiliar space. Generic rock music plays from the radio and a few random posters hang on the walls. It doesn’t seem like the most professional place, but a car with an open hood in the middle of the room, assures you that you came to the right place. Your eyes scan the repair shop for someone to assist you, but the silence is enough of an answer for you. 

You knew you arrived at a late hour, having spent most of your day getting lost in the books at the library, but a part of you hoped you could make it before closing time. It was a simple Google search for the nearest mechanic that had you end up here, but you didn’t think twice to see the closing hours.

Your legs guide you further into the room, careful not to touch anything you shouldn’t. This is the first time you’ve been to the mechanic with your car that you bought a few months back. It was an already used car when you bought it, but you could get it cheap and desperately needed something to help you get to school. The feeling of being in here is intimidating in itself, having little to no knowledge of cars, but a lamp in your car display has been screaming for attention for way too long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Are you lost?” The voice surprises you and you turn around to see a tall figure walking into the room. 

Seonghwa.

The tall, lean, beautiful man you’ve seen in the hallways of your university. He is always wearing an oversized old-school leather jacket, messy black hair, black nail polish, and has a cigarette in hand 24/7. He and his group are known on campus for being too intimidating to talk to, but somehow every time you see them, they each have a new girl wrapped around their finger. They party when everyone else is sleeping, don't care about what people are saying about them and they will fight if they have to. 

You’ve only spoken to him once when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl kissing in the library. You were searching for a specific book and made your way to the back rows of the library. As you were in your own head, you turned a corner and saw him with his tongue down her throat, her hands running through his (then) white hair. Your instant reaction was to freeze in your spot, panicking. This was the last thing you expected to see, especially at the library. 

As Seonghwa removed his gaze from the girl trapped between him and the shelves, and his eyes watched you carefully, you immediately woke up.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You quickly said, turning around. Cheeks quickly blushed, and you felt the embarrassment rush over you. Not even for them, but for you.

You heard the girl mumble something to Seonghwa, and a second later, she passed you and walked out of your sight. Heart pounding fast against your chest, you slowly turned around before your eyes landed on Seonghwa. Relaxed, he was leaning up against the shelf with his arms crossed, staring you down.

“You can take what you came for.” His low voice spoke. 

Slowly you walked further down the row, trying your best not to look at Seonghwa. Focused on the note in your hand with the book name you were searching for, you scanned the rows for the book. It seemed like an easy task, but you felt Seonghwa’s eyes locked on you with every move you made, making this simple mission impossible. 

Your eyes kept going over the same place again and again, slowly getting frustrated that you couldn’t get your shit together. 

As you looked down on the note again, reading the same line for the 29th time, you suddenly felt something watching over your shoulder. The smell of gasoline and cigarettes surrounded you, and it was like everything froze again. Seonghwa’s presence was close to you, but he wasn’t even touching you. You slowly turned your head to the side, and Seonghwa was peeking over your shoulder, looking down at the note in your hand. 

Not a word was said when he lifted his arm, grabbed a book, and handed it down to you. Your breathing stopped as you saw the book you were so desperately looking for, resting in Seonghwa’s hand. Your hands slowly reached out for the book, and you couldn’t help but look up and see his eyes watching you with no expression. You couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, not being able to get more words out. 

“You’re welcome.” He answered coldly, still watching your every move. 

Was he pissed at you for interrupting? Was he tired? Was he happy? Relieved? You had absolutely no idea.

So you quickly saw your opportunity to get away, sending him an awkward smile before you practically ran away.

And that was the first and only time you’ve spoken to Seonghwa. Until now. 

“No, I was looking for someone to help me.” You say, knowing he’s been waiting for an answer for a little too long. “I need an oil change.”

He takes a few steps further into the room, and you notice the white towel in his hands, filled with black oil stains. He’s wearing a black tank top and jeans, also filled with black stains.

You didn’t know much about him, and you had no idea that he worked here. Looking back though, it made sense for you. He was often seen with a “dirty” outfit, with black oil stains on his clothes and skin.

“Brave of you to walk in here in an all-white outfit,” His eyes travel down your body, and you suddenly feel small. You look down at yourself in your white cardigan, white skirt, and white knee socks. Of course, you didn’t think much of it when you put your outfit together this morning. “Give me five minutes, I just need to finish this,” He walks closer to the parked car in the room, throwing the white cloth over so it rests on his shoulder. 

Restless, not knowing what to do with yourself, you step closer to the wall, trying your best not to be in his way. “Careful standing too close to that, or you’ll get oil on your skirt. It stains. You can sit on the stool over there while you wait.” He points at a black stool in the corner and you quickly find your way over there so you can let him work in peace.

You take your time studying the place, not knowing if it’s normal to have a conversation at a place like this. How long will this take? Does he own this place? Should you leave him alone? You decide to focus on the rock music playing while you silently watch Seonghwa do his thing.

He’s leaning over the open hood of the car, screwing something and rubbing his hands in the white cloth after. You might not have any idea of how to repair cars, but he makes whatever he does look so easy. He knows exactly what to do and how to do it. 

He closes the hood of the car and walks to the other corner of the room. You can’t see what he’s pressing, but suddenly the metal wall behind you goes up, and you look behind you to see other cars parked outside. It rolls all the way up, and Seonghwa walks to the car, gets in, and drives it out of the room and to the parking lot. 

You silently watch him as he comes back and walks towards you. “Alright, can I have your keys?” He asks, reaching out his hand. You’re quick to hand him the key with a heart keyring attached, and there’s a tug on his lips as it’s placed in his hand. “Be right back.” 

A moment later, he arrives in your car, parks it in the middle of the room, and walks out to close the metallic garage door again. Once it’s closed, he grabs a few things from racks on the walls and walks to your car.

“You want me to do a routine maintenance check as well? I have the time.” He asks as he opens the hood.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” You say as confidently as possible. Truth be told, you just want to have your car fixed so you can go home. Seonghwa doesn’t respond, he just grabs a mechanic’s dolly, lays his back on top and suddenly his upper half is under your car. A few moments pass by in silence, the only thing filling the air is the music playing and the sounds of metal crashing as he works, and he rolls back out and goes to work in the front trunk. Leaning over your car, working and changing the oil, he once again looks professional and focused, and that makes you curious.

“You work here a lot?” You ask.

“Yeah, every day pretty much.” His back is turned to you, but you see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. He places one in his mouth, flicks the lighter, and a cloud of smoke escapes. His body turns towards you, the pack of cigarettes in hand. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.” You shake your head. He continues to work on your car, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Is that safe?”

“What?” 

“Smoking. While doing that.” You point to the car. You’ve seen too many movies including fire and cars, so a quick concern washes over you, scared that a huge fire would suddenly occur. 

“Smoking is never safe. You’re always playing with death when turning one on. If you’re asking if it’s safe to smoke over an open hood, then it’s inconsequential. Your car won’t blow up if that’s what's worrying you.” He glances back at you. His black hair is pushed back, but a few strands have fallen down into his face.

“If it’s not safe then why do you do it?” You can’t help but ask, curious if he really doesn’t care or if it’s just an act.

“Helps me concentrate.” He simply answers, going back to work. “What about you?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“No, do you do anything that's bad for you?” Another cloud of smoke fills the space around him, and he rubs his hands in the white cloth, leaving black stains. The black oil on his hands blends in with his black nail polish, and somehow it looks good. 

Just like he was that one time in the library, he’s once again impossible to read. And his question leaves you silent for a moment, not knowing what to answer.

“Oh… Uhm, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” You shrug, and a light scoff comes from Seonghwa.

“Shocking.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows come together in question.

His body turns to you, eyes going down to your outfit, hand gesturing to you. “You look like you’d be spending a week in church if you walked across a red light on the street.” There’s a small tug on his lips as he speaks. He’s entertained by you. You look like the complete opposite of him. In your white outfit, knee-high socks, and white little skirt you look like a saint next to him in his all dirty, messy black clothes. Like fire and water, you're the opposites.

“Well, I don’t.” You say.

“You don’t have to take it as a bad thing. Church girls can be full of surprises.” There's something hidden in the way he says it, and the smirk on his lips makes your cheeks blush. “I’ve seen you at school, you know. Often at the library, surrounded by academic books you probably read just for fun.”

“Well, I like the idea of knowledge. It gets you further in life.”

“It depends, doesn’t it? Don’t you think knowledge can hold you back from doing certain things too?”

“Maybe. But I also just like staying at the library. It’s fun.”

Another scoff leaves him, and you get the feeling that he’s mocking you. 

“What?”

“If your idea of ‘fun’ is reading at the library, then I’d love to see you on a Saturday night.” He sends you a smirk before going back to focusing on the car. His back muscles tense as he works over the open hood, and you can’t help but stare. The black tank top really does him justice as he moves his arms around, and you shake your head, trying to focus on something else.

“What do you study?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

“Business, language and culture.”

“So you don’t wanna be a mechanic?” 

“Still figuring it out.” He answers shortly. “You study what?”

"Psychology.”

"So, those biochemistry books I see you with at the library really are just for fun?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks, making you feel annoyed that he has you figured out so easily.

“As I said, I think knowledge gets you further in life.” You justify. He shakes his head in disbelief and you hear something close to a chuckle leave him. The sound is nice, especially since you���ve never heard or even seen this man smile. So this small chuckle is enough for you to continue this small banter you have going. “You don’t look like the type to go to the library.” 

“I don’t think we use the library for the same reasons.” He turns around toward you again and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He leans up against your car as your eyes lock on his figure, eyes piercing on you as he blows out the smoke. “Do you know about the library’s back room, princess?” His nickname for you makes your mind blank, and you shake your head no. “Proves my point.”

“What’s the back room?” You’re curious.

He’s studying you for a moment before answering. “A place to fuck.” 

Like a switch, your entire expression changes and you feel your cheeks heat up. Never have you heard of this ‘back room’ before. No, you probably (absolutely, most certainly) wouldn’t even use it if you had known about it, but it shocks you that it’s a thing. 

Seonghwa’s smirk grows on his lips as he studies your face. “Your expression says it all. You’re such a good girl you couldn’t even hide it if you wanted to.” 

You fall silent for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to move on from here. Until you’re reminded of the first time you spoke to Seonghwa.

“I saw you at the library once. With a girl.” You say shortly.

“Yeah, I remember. The back room was occupied so I took her down to the part of the library no one comes to. Well, except you.” The way his eyes are locked on you while talking about this is making your heart beat faster. 

“Is it even allowed?” 

“Would it ruin you to break the rules once in a while? Have you ever had sex in public before?”

“N-no!” Your cheeks are burning at this point.

“Don’t hate it till you try it. It's thrilling.” You’re not sure but you think you see him send you a wink as the smirk grows on his lips. A few more strands of hair have fallen down in his eyes, framing his face perfectly, before he runs his hand through his hair to push it back. It makes you fall under his trance for a moment, but you quickly flicker your eyes away, scared to fall for the beautiful brown eyes of his.

“So what, you only go to the library to sleep with someone? You don’t think there’s a better place to make love?”

“‘Make love’, how adorable.” Seonghwa is full-on smiling at this point, enjoying this conversation the more it escalates. The way your cheeks reddened, the slight shake in your voice, your flickering eyes. It’s clear to him that you’re not used to talking about these kinds of things, and he loves it. 

“I don’t see what’s funny.” You say.

“You make love on your honeymoon. You fuck everywhere else.” He says, as a matter of fact. 

“I don’t.” You disagree, fighting to keep your eyes on him and not back down from his piercing ones.

“No, I figured.” Another cloud of smoke leaves his lips and frames his face before continuing to fix the car, still looking back at you occasionally as you’re having this conversation. “You’re seeing anyone?”

“No.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. His gaze on you seems so intimidating, even his presence itself. There’s a confidence, almost an arrogance to him that makes him so unnerving. But despite this, you can’t help but ask further. “Do you? Since you use the ‘back room’?”

“You only fuck-” He stops himself and holds his hands up. “Excuse me, make love, with people you date?” His questions make you fall silent for a few seconds.

You don’t know Seonghwa well, so this conversation is not exactly what you expected. This question could also open an entirely new topic of conversation that you weren’t sure would be comfortable for either of you.

The conversation about sex is not normal for you, especially since you’re not the most experienced. Despite having been in a relationship with the guy who took your virginity, it didn’t end the way you had dreamed of. 

You had always romanticized the thought of losing your virginity to the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but when you found out he had cheated on you during your relationship, your world crumbled. At the time, all of your insecurities came to life, and despite knowing you had done nothing wrong in the relationship to prevent this, you couldn’t help but feel like you had done something wrong when it came to sex.

With time, you promised yourself not to let your ex have an effect on you, so you did everything you could to gain back your confidence, and you did.

You clear your throat, taking your time to find the right answer. “Well... I’ve only made love to one person and that was my ex. So yes.”

“And you only stayed in the bedroom?” 

A moment of silence.

“Yes, we did. I just don’t understand why you would do it anywhere but in the bedroom. There’s literally a bed, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable everything else must be.

Seonghwa throws his head back before looking at you in disbelief. “I didn’t think you could get any more good. You must be first in line to heaven when doomsday comes.” He puts his smoke out in the ashtray on a working table next to the car. “Public sex is not about how comfortable it is. And just because it’s public, does not mean people are watching you. That’s a whole other kink.” Seonghwa is slowly making his way towards you on the stool. His large frame is closing in on you, speaking in a lower volume as he’s coming closer. “It’s the feeling of someone possibly being able to see. Having to keep quiet, being close, finding whatever excuse you have to leave and drag the other person into a random room. Comfortability is not a necessity at that point. Then you don’t care if you fuck in a bed, against a table, or the hood of a car.” 

He’s standing right in front of you. You try your best to control your breathing as he looks down at you, you have to look up at him through your eyelashes. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as he is near, but there’s also an obvious pull of something dangerous yet addicting when being close to him. You don’t know where it comes from, but you can't help but want more. 

You’ve never caught yourself thinking of Seonghwa this way, but he’s awfully good at wrapping you around his finger and thinking of things you’ve never had before.

“So what, how does this ‘backroom’ work?” You suddenly ask, almost surprising yourself. What did you want with the information? You have no idea.

Seonghwa finds your questions endearing. The innocence in your voice has him smiling, letting you see his perfect teeth. You’ve never looked at him so closely, you find yourself so fascinated by him. The raw, scary persona he is, but yet his face is perfectly made like an angel. Soft and beautiful. You suddenly find yourself completely under his spell, studying his every feature.

“What, tempted to give it a try? I can show you if you’re interested.” There’s a hint of something in his voice, you can’t tell if he’s kidding, but even the thought of him taking you to the room, has you notice a certain heat between your legs.

“N-no, I’m just curious.” Your voice shakes from how close he is to you along with his words.

“Careful with that. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” He then steps back and walks back to the car to continue working on it as if nothing happened. Seonghwa is working over the open hood, unaware of how he left you feeling inside. 

Your heart is beating fast against your chest as he casually works in front of you. Like he turned on something inside of you, you suddenly notice things about him you didn’t before. How his hand curls around the wrench, how his shirt lifts when leaning over the car, exposing the skin on his waist, and how his muscles tense when he works. His jeans hang low, just below his waist, revealing even more skin and you somehow can’t help but look.

“Getting awfully quiet over there, princess. Your mind running?” Seonghwa’s head turns to you, catching you looking at him. Your eyes go to his, and you both freeze. He studies your face for a few seconds before grabbing the hood of the car and closing it. You both look at each other, a certain tension between you.

“Come here,” Seonghwa says as he leans against the car. Your body hesitates to do as he says, but you eventually cave in and get down from the stool to slowly make your way towards him. 

Seonghwa throws the white cloth on the table before looking down at you. The smell of cigarettes and oil enhances again as you’re close to him, and Seonghwa taps the hood of the car with his hand. You look at the hood, suddenly unsure of everything you do, but push the thoughts away and jump up on the hood to sit. Your feet dangle, but you freeze when Seonghwa steps in front of you, resting his hands on either side of you. 

“You’re thinking of something special?” His low voice asks. He’s searching for your eyes, but your heart is pounding and your eyes struggle to stay in one place. The heat between your legs is driving you insane, never having felt like this before.

“No... Maybe.”

His eyes continue to study your face. His expression is still impossible to read, yet his actions make you feel a whole new type of way.

“Look... I’d gladly take you, right here right now, if you want. We don’t even have to fuck, I can just make you cum if that’s what you want.” His bluntness throws you off, yet you didn’t expect those words to have such a big impact on you.

“Won’t someone come in? Or hear?” You worry.

“No. They won’t.” He whispers, slowly leaning forward. 

You can’t tell what’s happening, even if you had a gun to your head. Seonghwa is not someone you should be spending time with. He’s the complete opposite of you, yet that draws you in like nothing else.

“Okay.” You cave in.

Not a second later, Seonghwa’s lips are on yours. Everything is happening so fast, that your brain isn’t even realizing who you’re kissing. The guy you’ve seen scare people away from their seats is having his hands on you, pulling you closer for a kiss. His tongue slips through your lips and you allow his every move. 

It’s a whole new experience to kiss someone like Seonghwa. The taste, the moves, the desire. He knows what he’s doing, and the confidence shines through, even just through the kiss.

He pulls back, leaving you thirsty for more, and a small tug on Seonghwa’s lips assures you that this is actually going to happen. “First… How do you usually like it, kitten? How do you like for someone to make you cum?” He whispers.

“I’m not.. no one has ever... I mean-”

“No one has made you cum before?”

You try analyzing his question in your mind before you shake your head no. 

“I thought you had a boyfriend a while back?”

“I did..”

There’s a short moment of silence where Seonghwa just reads your face and takes in what you just told him. “So let me get this straight... You only had mediocre, boring vanilla sex with this guy, he never made you cum and you still dated him?” He lifts an eyebrow, trying to understand the situation. You slowly nod, confirming his question. “Did he ever cum?”

“Every time.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding... Now that’s just selfish of him,” He removed a piece of hair from your face and leaned his face closer to your ear. You felt him slowly press his lips on the soft spot on your neck before gracing his lips over your ear. “Can I get the pleasure to be the one to make you cum, princess?”

“Y-yes.” You’re almost panting at this point, craving his touch more than you’d ever expect. Seonghwa holds your face in his hands as he presses his lips hard against yours again. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as you get lost in him, yet you for some reason get addicted to the idea of him. Like he’s your kind of nicotine.

“I’ll try not to get oil all over you.” He assures as pulls away from you.

“That’s okay.” You tell him, suddenly not caring about the stains. This makes Seonghwa’s lips turn into a smirk, slightly amazed at the sudden change in you. His hands run up your thigh, leaving black stains from his fingerprints on your skin.

“You like the idea of my fingerprints on you? Looking in the mirror when you get home and seeing my hands on your thighs?” He goes to kiss your neck as his fingers dig into the flesh on your things. Unable to speak, you nod, wanting him to touch you even more. “Lean back for me, kitten.”

You scoop further back on the hood of your car, leaning back on your elbows to get a view of Seonghwa. His hands go to your hips to drag down your underwear till it completely leaves your body. The cold air hits your heat as Seonghwa parts your legs to lean over the hood and get a better view of your cunt. 

“Gosh, you’re glistening, princess. Are you that wet already? The idea of cumming in a public space is turning you on now?” 

You don’t get to react before his tongue suddenly slides between your folds, getting a long taste of you. The feeling makes you gasp, but you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, silencing yourself as much as possible.

“You taste so sweet, kitten.” He continues taking long strokes in between your folds, making sure to lick your clit as well. You look down to see his fingerprints on your thighs, turning you on even more. A moan escapes through your lips as he starts focusing on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on the sensitive nub. You can barely say anything as he takes his time, eating you like he craves you. 

“I can’t believe someone had the chance to make you cum, and he didn’t even do it right.” Seonghwa shakes his head with a smirk before taking a few more deep licks against your pussy. “How embarrassing of him.”

“Will you... do it right, then?” You asked, looking at him with doe eyes. Seonghwa stands up further to look down at you spread out on the hood in front of him. His fingers, still stained slightly with black oil, go to your chin, and tilts your head up slightly to get a better look at him. 

“Kitten, you’re gonna wish you came to me sooner when I’m done with you.” The look in his eyes almost works like a promise before he leans down to your pussy again. “Tell me how you like it, princess. Use your words.” 

Once again you have to fight yourself to get actual words out when he runs his tongue between your folds again. This time, he focuses on your hole, slipping his tongue in before licking up your pussy again. 

“Like that... That’s really g-good.” You manage to get out, already feeling the shocks through your body when he licks the right places. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He spits down on your pussy before going back and to lick it again. Your legs slowly give up, but Seonghwa holds them open, allowing him full view and access. He goes back to sucking your clit, making you moan through your hand once again. “Best cunt I’ve tasted, kitten. Sweeter than anything.”

His tongue works around, he knows what he’s doing. He occasionally looks up at you, making eye contact as he runs his tongue between your folds. This makes you go absolutely crazy, seeing him go down on you like this. Eating, slurping you up. The sounds from the repair shop are out of this world, filled with your moans and him slurping all the juices from your pussy.

“Please don’t stop.” You throw your head back in pleasure, slowly feeling your orgasm approach. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grins. His mouth goes to your clit again, sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Restless with your hand, it goes to his hair and you grab a handful. The black locks in your hand look amazing as his face is against your cunt, eating and licking you up. Your abandonment starts to send shocks through your body, Seonghwa having to lock your legs down so he can continue. 

The feeling is overwhelming, you can barely hold back your moans anymore. His tongue is flat against your pussy as he flicks your clit with the tip, making sure to hit all the best spots. He works fast, barely letting you get used to one way before he moves next to the new. 

“Seonghwa, I’m gonna-” You moan his name as the feeling of your orgasm quickly starts to form. Lastly, his tongue goes to your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body is a shaking, moaning mess as he eats you out of your orgasm. He doesn’t miss a spot as he slurps up the juices from your pussy, licking you one last time, everywhere, before separating himself from you.

You look up to see his chin glistening from your orgasm. He has a smirk on his lips as he pulls you up to sit and presses his lips against yours. Quickly, a specific taste of something mixes as you kiss, his tongue added as well. 

“You taste yourself on my tongue?” He asks confidently, and you quickly realize what the taste is. You. “Amazing, don’t you think?” He smirks before giving you one last kiss before pulling slightly away. He stays between your legs as you scoop forward a bit, still on the hood but with your feet dangling now. 

“Should I.. with you?” You almost whisper.

“No need, princess. Eating your pretty pussy was enough for me.” He smirks as he places his hands on each side of you. You blush again, never having someone comment on your pussy before, but you can’t help but like how it sounds coming from him. “So.. first time having someone make you cum and it being in a public space. What do you think?”

“It was.. fun.” You admit, speaking the truth. The rush of doing it here, with Seonghwa, at his place of work was not something you ever expected to happen, but it had a thrill you never felt before.

“See, that we can agree is ‘fun’. You have school tomorrow?” The change of subject throws you off for a second, having to get your mind clear after just having the biggest orgasm of your life.

“Yeah,” You reply, remembering something important, “How much do I owe you?” Your words leave him with a wrinkle between his brows. 

“For eating you out?” 

“N-no! For the uhh.. the car.”

He looks somewhat relieved after you clarify, “Oh... I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I know you said you didn’t want a maintenance check but I couldn’t help but notice that your serpentine belt is filled with cracks.” 

You don’t even know what a serpentine belt is.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“That means that it’ll break at some point and then you’ll risk getting stuck in the middle of the road because your car can’t drive.” He explains, and you suddenly understand the situation. You can't help but notice how quick he is to move on, talking about your car after he just had his tongue in between your folds.

You know he's not a stranger to sex, but that also intimidates you.

“Oh..”

He reads your expression for a second as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the road when driving, knowing that’s gonna be even more expensive. But it’s late, so leaving your car here would mean that you would have to order a cab or take the bus.

“I’m done here for the day. How about I give you a ride home? Then we’ll drive here together from school tomorrow, I’ll finish your car, and you’ll get to drive home in a car that doesn’t have the risk of crashing down at any moment?” 

You look up at him to see his expression back to its usual unreadable one, “I mean... If that’s okay with you?” You ask.

This makes him smile. He looks down on your thighs to see the stains he left on you, before meeting your eyes again.

“Of course, kitten. I’ll just grab my stuff.” 

He then disappears away and into another room, leaving you on the hood of your car. The fingerprints on your thighs are a raw indication of what has happened tonight, and you’re sure your clothes are stained with black oil as well. 

When he arrives again, he’s wearing his black leather jacket. You follow him to his car outside, and he drives you home. When you arrive at your apartment, you can’t help but look in the mirror immediately. Seonghwa’s fingerprints are all over your thighs and hips, almost marking you. Your cardigan, skirt, and socks all have stains on them, and there’s a slight embarrassment in your gut when thinking of what happened tonight. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the thought of seeing Seonghwa in the hallways of the university, especially since he has to pick you up from school tomorrow and go back to the place where he just gave you your biggest orgasm. But even so, you’re even more tempted to walk through the door he just opened for you. The wilder side, the dangerous and unfamiliar. 

It makes you blush even thinking of him, and when your phone suddenly buzzes in your hand, you’re shocked to see a certain name on your screen.

Seonghwa made you save his contact when dropping you off, saying it was for future car problems. But you didn't expect a text already, and you know the door he has opened for you, is already locked behind you. 

Seonghwa See you tomorrow, kitten

Taglist: @canigotosleep--plz (comment if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

[justmatches]

Let Me Be Your Own

Charles Xavier (Professor X) / fem! reader

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1490

First Meetings, Slow Burn, SLOW slow burn, set in mid-First Class

Note: Reader's mutation gives her the ability to manipulate/communicate with plants. Her powers are there but not very developed whatsoever, that's what Charles is going to help with :). This is him finding her after using Cerebro.

The world was quiet where she sat, her serene little nook in the park giving her a breath of fresh air for the first time that day. Work had been stressful – her boss angry and her coworkers impudent – leaving her mind buzzing and strained.

The grass beneath her was thick, a carpet on the damp Earth where she resided. She found peace in the seclusion of nature, listening to the warm thrum of the plants around her. One thing she learned since she developed her mutation was that even though there were significantly more plants than people, they were much quieter, speaking only when spoken to or when they felt something strange, something new.

Speaking of which, her thought process was interrupted by a whisper from behind her, somewhere on the ground. Someone’s coming. 

The soft sound of dress shoes clicked across the path that wound through the park, the sound turning into a light shuffle as it turned toward her, nearing closer. “Is this seat taken?” A warm voice spoke over her shoulder, compelling her to open her eyes. She turned slightly, glancing at the man behind her.

It was a generally younger man, his hair short on the sides and swept up top, a warm smile on his face, and faded blue eyes bringing forth an almost boyish quality to his features. He was put together, and dare she even say charming.

“Not yet it’s not.” She smiled, trying to hide her confusion at his sudden appearance. She watched silently as his smile widened and he came forward, sitting down in the grass beside her. She felt the grass rustle around him, the blades as curious as she was. 

As he finished settling in the grass he looked out across the park, a warm expression crossing his face at the swaths of green painting the precious little patch of the city.

“Beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

He mused, eyes flicking to read her expression, noting the curiosity of her gaze before flicking back, fixing on something in the distance.

She could feel the flora around her thrumming with a strange energy, enamored by his presence. There’s something special about him. The world seemed to hum, one of the lower-hanging branches, rustling with interest. That thought sparked her thoughts, the feeling registering that he was like her, a mutant. But a simple mutation wouldn’t send the world around them into such a state, it was almost as if his energy was reaching into that of everything around them. Strange.

“Who are you?” She asked, a little more bluntly than anticipated. Somewhere in her mind, she felt bad about being so straightforward, but her curiosity was killing her. Her eyes were trained on his, studying his features, his reactions, trying to pick up anything she could.

He chuckled, his head turning to her in reaction to her blatancy, an unbothered look on his face. “Charles Xavier,” He smiled, a nearly smug expression on his face. “You know, I’ve actually been looking for you.”

“What?” She choked, not expecting that whatsoever. What could he possibly want with her? She knew he was a mutant, but did he know she was, too? How could he know?

“I know what you are, though I haven’t quite figured out what you can do.” He stated, the words somehow answering the questions flashing through her mind.

“How did you know?” She asked, her voice low with caution.

“I have some tricks, too.” His voice echoed in her mind, her eyes squinting and then widening as she realized he never opened his mouth. He was inside her head.

“How did you-?” She stumbled, blinking away her shock. She felt an odd mix of emotions inside of her – shock, fear, comfort – all swirling in her stomach. Was she going to puke? She might puke. She had seen other mutants before but she had never talked to them, too scared to interact, and the premise that one (much less one that was literally inside of her head) was speaking with her was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

He chuckled, the light sound coming out in more of a breath than a laugh.

“Telepathy, darling. I can see every little thought flying through your mind, you know.” He teased, voice dancing on the air between them. She briefly thought that the sound was borderline musical.

She breathed out, a slight sound of amusement at the mix of the pet name and how obvious it was that he spoke to her through telepathy. She internally chided herself for the near idiocy of her last question, though she quickly blamed it on the shock of his voice inside of her skull.

“Then you already know what I can do, can’t you?” She asked, quirking her brow. He smiled, though lightly shook his head ‘no’.

“I’m afraid I don’t. You see, I do my best to avoid prying into people’s minds past the prominent, surface-level thoughts. I find it quite rude to snoop.” He explained, his voice serene but still laced with that joyous, youthful tone. She recognized it as hope, as though he looked confidently at every word that came from his mouth.

She nodded in acknowledgment, understanding his reasoning. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate you not picking my grey matter,” She joked, feeling the tension start to ease from her body. She was still a bit unsure of him, but he was kind, charming, seemingly honest, and the plants hadn’t yet had any objections to him. “Nevertheless, I assume you want to know what my mutation is, then?”

His lips quirked with amusement at her attempt at a joke. He could feel she was nervous, her emotions being one of the most prominent, unsilenceable thoughts she had, but nodded, affirming her question.

“I showed you mine, I think it’s only fair you show me yours.” He teased, returning her lighthearted, joking manner.

She bit back a chuckle and nodded, placing her hand in the grass between them. “It’s nothing much…” She muttered as she focused on the green blades around her fingers, the energy of their livelihood thrumming through her veins before channeling it into the ground a few feet in front of them. She listened to their voices, using the energy to spark the growth of a plant, stems and vines suddenly spilling out of the ground, sprouting up a foot or two before blooming into a delicate flower, the petals bright with energy and life. She heard him laugh beside her, a joyous, excited sound.

“Stupendous!” He uttered, amazement clear in his voice and eyes as he took a knee, leaning forward to examine the new plant closer. His hand twitched at his side and he reached out, about to touch the petals before looking over his shoulder, exhilaration electric in his eyes. “May I?” 

She nodded, a bright smile on her face as he watched him carefully take a petal between his fingers, thumb ghosting along the top of the smooth petal. He muttered something to himself, too quiet for her to catch before he turned back to her, his attention devoted to her. 

“I suppose I haven’t yet told you why I came looking for you.” He chuckled, wonder still lacing his tone.

She shook her head, a small laugh bubbling from her throat, surprised that she hadn’t yet to ask of his intention throughout their meeting. “And I suppose I never asked. Care to tell?” She smiled, eyes meeting his, his excited energy still prominent in the air.

“I’m creating a school for mutants – a safe space for anyone interested. So many of us have lived our lives in fear, in hiding; I want to help those who are willing to come with me. To learn how to control and embrace their powers, to use them for good. To build a better future,” He explained, serious and passionate at the same time. “And I want you to come with me.”

She felt a lump in her throat at the idea of leaving everything she knew behind. But in hindsight, would it be worth it? She didn’t have much to leave behind – no family, not much of a social life, and a pretty awful job. In her few seconds of indecision, she realized that what he was offering would be much better than her current life. She would be surrounded by people who understood her, who were like her, and she would have friends and a stable home. She could have everything a reasonable person wanted.

“Okay,” She breathed, her smile growing as the hopes of his better future embraced her thoughts, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the man in front of her. Though they were strangers she felt comforted by him, she knew she could trust him as he stood up, offering his hand. His smile was warm and exhilarating, giving her a hope she had never known before.

A/N: I just want to say this is my first time properly writing and publishing a chapter of a fic, so feedback is very welcome and appreciated!! My requests are open if there's anything you're itching for, and if you want more of this story, let me know :)

[strawbellyx3]

Some thoughts on JinMao in The Apothecary Diaries LN (spoilers)

I love how Maomao's love for Jinshi is written in the Light Novel. She's an unreliable narrator and can't put a name on what she feels for a long time and heck, for the most time she doesn't even want to. The beginning of volume 6 showing this perfectly when she didn't want to leave Jinshi's hair stick behind, carried it with her and when she slept, she kept it near her chest because she didn't want to have it anywhere where she could see it. The symbolism *chef kiss* (she doesn't want to face her feelings but also still carries them close to her chest)

She purposely chooses to avoid thinking about any potential feelings for Jinshi and at the end of the same volume it's also stated that she does have some kind of affection for him that she can't yet put into words.

For readers, it's easy to view Maomao's avoidant attitude as disinterest. Even more so paired with how she doesn't seem to ever be nervous around Jinshi. But really, we don't need blushy nervous Maomao to understand what she's feeling. Her feelings come to show everytime she worries about Jinshi's well being and goes out of her way to get him to eat and rest, takes time of her own day to make sure that he's well.

When at the beginning, she always considered him bringing all these tasks to her as bothersome. Maomao just wanted to experiment with poison and make medicine, she didn't want to spend time on anything else, really.

Then, in volume 9 she's even willing to give up her agency if it meant helping ease his burdens.

Maomao, miss "I don't want to have anything to do with this, this is bothersome" tells him to use all of her. Use her until she falls apart. (while kabedoning him, love Maomao being an absolute girlboss even when she tells him to use her)

She's worried by his selflessness. How he's unable to use other people to reach his goals and shoulders everything on his own, wanting to save everyone. Maomao gets upset by it and worries he'd never get anything in return and become as luckless in life as her adoptive father. Who carries the same selflessness and kindness.

I don't think we talk enough about how much it means for Maomao to get to a point where she would rather get used by Jinshi than to see him exhaust himself.

This whole scene afterwards is just..generally really heartwarming honestly.

(Volume 9 Chapter 20)

Her hands went to Jinshi’s cheek. “You’re only human, Master Jinshi. You’re not some mythical immortal who can save everyone.” She held his face in her hands, the fingers of her left hand brushing his scar. “You can be wounded, scarred, brought low. Only human.”

Who was she talking to? She knew Jinshi was standing in front of her, but for some reason she kept seeing Luomen’s face.

No wonder I’m so upset. The principle that drove Jinshi’s behavior seemed very similar to Luomen’s. She was afraid that if he went on like this, he would end up just as luckless in life as her old man. Just like Pops... He’d spent himself trying to rescue everyone and everything. Like a fool. He should have wanted more, been greedier, but instead he’d suffered his fate patiently. Suffered and suffered, and for what? To become an old man resigned to his empty hands. This was, it was fair to say, Maomao’s one criticism of her father. She’d felt it keenly in the affair with the Shaonese shrine maiden. She respected Luomen immensely. A man who never lost his kindness no matter what unhappiness he encountered was like a miracle. The price, though, was that his body and his heart were both battered. In time he became so that everything he did, he did in the expectation of defeat. Would Jinshi end up like him one day? Or— “Please, please don’t go doing anything else like burning a brand into your skin,” Maomao said. “I heard you...the first several times,” Jinshi replied. “Are you sure?” A smile flitted across Maomao’s face, and she slowly pulled her hands away.

[novashelby]

Just Breathe-A Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Smut MDNI. 18+

Pairing: Jonathan CraneXFem!Reader-Patient

Prompt: I used number 65

Warnings: Mentions of depression and anxiety, medication, use of drugs, dub-con. Fingering (f receiving). Age gap? Reader is unknown adult age, but Jonathan is older.

Summary: Dr. Crane's patient has been having a hard time climaxing after taking a SSRI. So, he gives her an experimental drug to help her climax.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: This is a request by @futurefamousdeadmusician. They had given me the prompt, but allowed me the creative freedom. I hope you enjoy it. :) Please comment and reblog. Likes are kind, but I'd really appreciate if you can at least reblog. Rebloging allows an author's work to circulate.

She wasn’t his usual type of patient; small and meek. A simple diagnosis of general anxiety. Nothing a little pill couldn’t fix. The previous appointment he pulled out his pad and wrote down a low dose prescription of sertraline. Something he often started patients on. And so, when she came in the next appointment with a very typical problem, he was not surprised. Dr. Crane took off his dark rimmed glasses and leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. He listened intently and with genuine interest, watching her fiddle with the fraying hems of her sleeves. Many assumed he was all arrogance and no compassion. That was hardly the truth. Dr. Crane cared quite deeply about his patients. Perhaps just in a different way. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, eying her picking at loose threads. Her fingernails scraped and pulled, causing balls of lint to flutter on the ground. His eyes watched as they drifted in the air. “You seem on edge.” It wasn’t anything new in her case; on edge and small. Though, the twitching in her wrist was new. She swallowed, stopping the shaking in her knee. Looking up at him, she took a deep sigh. 

“Mike and I had our first intimate date,” she said with a crooked, unsure smile. 

Curious, he arched his brows. “And how did that go? Michael…the boy from your university course, correct?” He wrote it down in his notebook for future reference. 

Shrugged, she winced a bit and shyly responded, “it didn’t…it didn’t go anywhere.” Her cheeks turned a shameful rosy red and she averted her attention off the side. It was not an unusual side effect. In fact, it was almost expected with SSRIs at this point. Dr. Crane noted in his file; the patient is struggling with intimacy-possible side effects from medication. “He was getting frustrated with me. I couldn’t…couldn’t…finish?” she questioned, looking back up at him. Poor girl looked so ashamed and embarrassed, her cute bottom lip pouting out. 

“I see,” he said, thumb playing with the pen in his hand. Click. Click. Click. “Well, it is a normal response to the medication. Lower libido and difficulty reaching climax. Have you tried to talk to Michael about this?” 

She shook her head. “Hasn’t answered any of my texts.”

Dr. Craned sighed and offered a consolidating smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Crane, am I just going to be like this everyday for the rest of my life?” she asked after a random moment of silence. It took him by surprise when she stood, taking a deep inhale and holding it before letting it out with a stream of words. “I just…I feel so fucking useless!” His eyes followed as she passed about the small, dimly lit office. “Like I can’t function. For one fucking day.” Pausing, she turned on her heels and faced him, eyes peering down. “Like, it isn’t possible, right? No one can possibly be like this forever, right?” Dr. Crane put aside his notes and stood. Perhaps it was a little unprofessional, but he gently put his hands over her arms, thumbs running circles. It took her a second to come in focus, but when she did, she looked into his eyes and asked, “Dr. Crane, I want to feel human-”

“You feel nothing, but human,” he responded, gently. “Being human is feeling anxious, scared, happy, nervous. Don't worry.” His hand went up to her cheek. “We can adjust your medication and change the dosage. I can…hmm.” He stopped mid thought when it hit him. “There is something I could try. Would you mind grabbing your belongings? We will actually head to the examination room-no, no, nothing at all to be afraid of.” The girl shivered in his arms, hesitating at the threshold of the door. He flicked off the lights and had to rest his hand on her lower back to shimmy her out. “We will go downstairs. Ah!” He walked over to the check in desk. “Linda, I will need you to cancel my appointments, and why don’t you take the rest of the day?”

Linda, the aging receptionist, took a moment to realize she was getting a free afternoon. In glee, she said, “oh, of course, Dr. Crane. Thank you!” 

He nodded. “Just remember to cancel those appointments and reschedule for Friday. I’ll switch around my shift at Arkham.” His eyes drifted back to the nervous girl, still fiddling with her sweater sleeves. “Just this way,” he whispered, smiling down at her. “Be Careful going down the steps. They’re a bit steep.” And he was right. She felt one wrong step and she would tumble down. Gripping the wooden railing, she climbed down sideways. Unlike Dr. Crane, who knew each step as if he had them mapped out in his brain. 

When they both reached downstairs, he flicked on a light. When her eyes adjusted, she was surprised to see a rather modern examination room; marble floor, medical bed, and metal cabinets. “Do you often bring patients down here, Dr. Crane?” Her eyes scanned the room when she saw four straps on the bed. She hated to admit it, but her brain instantly went to serial killer. He chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, as he was walking to a cabinet, unlocking it with a set of keys. “Those aren’t for you. Sit on the gurney please. I have to get you a waiver.” His fingers skimmed over the packets before pulling out a single piece of paper. “Ah! Here we are! No need to fear, it is only precautionary and customary.” Handing her the pen, he prompted her to sign it. Her fingers lingered over the pen, hesitantly taking it to sign.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, brows knitted.

He smiled, and cupped her cheek. “I will explain it to you in a moment, but I’d like you to sign it first. Just in case.” She nodded and skimmed over the words, not registering anything before shoving it back to him. Dr. Crane had never given her a reason not to trust him. “Good girl.” Good girl? A lump formed in the back of her throat as those words did something to her. His whole demeanor changed. The way he spoke was smooth and less professional and clinical. And this ascertain possessiveness clung to the words good girl. When she embarrassingly looked away, his hand was back at her cheek, pushing her to look at him. He was closing the gap between them. “Have I ever given you a reason not to be safe with me? Have I not always done what was right for you? Hm? You will be trying a new drug.” 

“A new drug?” she asked, wincing. “Shouldn’t I withdraw from the other one? Has it been tested? Approved by the FDA?” Ignoring her questions, he simply chuckled and pinched her chin before turning his back going to another file cabinet. Out he pulled a syringe and a vial filled with a purple liquid. 

“It’s a new erectile dysfunction treatment for men,” he explained, turning his head up to draw a syringe. “But it hasn’t been tested on a woman yet, and perhaps I am a bit curious. It won’t hurt you. I’m just curious if it will work.” He turned back to her, the syringe now filled with the purple liquid. She hated shots, but started to roll up her sleeve. “I’ll give you a lesser dose,” he lied, smirking to himself. It was a higher dose mixed with many other components that were known to mess with a woman’s senses.”

“I hate shots,” she explained, showing him her bare arm. 

Dr. Crane chuckled, and said, “actually, it doesn't go in your arm. Rest. Lie on your back.” When she went to open her mouth, he explained, “it goes in your upper thigh. I’ll need to take off your pants. Is that alright?” She contemplated for a second, eyes looking back to the restraints. Have I ever given you a reason not to be safe with me? She started to slide off the gurney, mumbling about how her session was over and how she needed to get home. Dr. Crane’s cool, collected exterior tensed, and the hands that were once gently touching her, were rougher. “Ah, ah, ah. You know the expression that a doctor knows best.” He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back down.

“Dr. Crane,” she said, mustering up the courage to sound a bit more curt and direct. “I’d like to go home, please.” He wouldn’t budge, eyes peering down at her. The syringe was right there wedged between his index and middle finger.

He slowly smirked, noticing how she kept looking at the restraints. He could read her easily. Knowing what was traveling through her mind, he whispered seductively in her ear. “I will use those if I have to, but if you are a good girl, I won’t. So, please, rest.” He eased her back down on the gurney and guided her to lay flat down. “I’m a doctor,” was his explanation for playing with the button on her pants. “This is nothing short of clinical for me.” Though it was true in a sense, it was still all erotic to him. Having a young woman so helplessly at his mercy in the name of his experiments, He was sure that she wouldn’t last his fear toxin, but luckily for her, he enjoyed a dabble in other areas. Including that of an arousal drug used for men. It wasn’t his, however, but a colleagues….He was simply using it as a side project in benefit of having his name on another paper. Her legs squeezed shut, preventing the ease of pulling them down, Jonathan laughed. “Come now,” he tisked, sliding a hand between her thigh and pulling them apart with ease. 

“It’s just a little uncomfortable,” she said, looking up at him with these pathetic doe-like eyes. Oh, how he had to fake sympathy; lip pouting and head tilted. Awww, I know. It is all so scary. Tell me exactly what you are fearful of? Swallowing, her eyes glanced over at the brown leather straps. “You’ll kill me.”

“How silly,” he said. “What use would I have of you then? Dead? Ah, you young women and your obsession with the grotesque and morbid. Would you believe I am actually helping you?” His cool fingers hooked around the waistband of her jeans and pulled down to her knees. Grabbing an alcohol wipe, he cleaned a small patch near the pelvic area instead of the thigh, where he originally said. When the needle came in closer, she winced, trying to push away slightly. Jonathan pulled away, frowning. His other hand reached out and caressed her cheek. In the softest voice, he cooed, “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” When the word baby laced within his sentence, she felt an ache in her stomach. It was mixed with sickness and…and that odd sensation that young girls get when they notice their first crush. Almost like a cramp and tingle. Baby? Her eyes glossed as she eased for him. “Good girl. Now, it won’t even hurt…ah! See?! So distracted, you hardly felt the tiny prick, sweetheart.” He was right, she hardly felt the prick. 

“What will happen now?” she asked, watching the ceiling. 

“You may feel a bit warm,” he explained, tossing the syringe and gloves away in a red bin for hazards. Instead of allowing her to leave, he took a seat on the stool, and watched her. “For men, they start to feel a bit of a tingle. An uncontrollable urge, if you will. Of course,” he paused, grinning at her. “An erection and if the sex is of standards, a very satiable climax. However! This is the first time it’s been tested on a female, but I expect the results to be on par-”

“W-what?” she asked, embarrassed. “Dr. Crane. I will do that here?”

Brows arched, he asked, “had you not read the waiver form thoroughly? I’m a bit disappointed, sweetheart. However, yes, you will go through the full trial here.” 

She tried to sit up, but got a bit dizzy and laid back down. “B-but in front of you?”

“It’s all clinical,” he explained. “But, because you hadn’t read the waiver, I want to reinforce that you should allow your body to feel exactly what it wants to feel. That you should relax into the urges and intrusive thoughts. Suppressing it will only make you worse. How are you feeling?” She hummed, wiggling her hands and feets. 

“Just a bit warm is all,” she explained, turning to glance at him, finding it funny that he wasn’t writing anything down. He wasn’t observing her as she imagined a doctor conducting an experiment. Instead, he was simply staring. When she went to sit up, that is when an overwhelming cold sweat hit her, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Shit,” she cursed under breath, closing her eyes. She wasn’t only warm, but hot. Almost like a dripping fever. 

“It’s only sixty-five in here,” he pointed out, amused. “It’s alright…how does your mouth feel?”

“Dry,” she croaked out, feeling her tongue turn to sandpaper. Sweat was forming at her temples and her heart was racing in a way she never felt. 

“Would you like some water?” he asked, sliding from the stool and walking to the sink. He filled a plastic cup with some water and turned to her, dipping his fingers in the cup. “Open your mouth…ahhh, good girl.” He dipped his fingers in her mouth, and there was something in her that turned absolutely feral. Intrigued, he observed how she reached up and hungrily sucked at his fingers, tongue swirling. She refused to let them go, whining when he pulled them away. “Your eyes are quite hazy,” he teased, pressing his fingers against her neck to feel her rising pulse. Her inhibitions were going down, he noted, and watched as whatever she was feeling turned into a survival need. She was hungry for something and she couldn’t comprehend. Sitting up a bit, mouth wide open and tongue out like a bitch in heat. She followed his hand before sucking in his fingers. Bobbing her head, she moaned as if she was pleasuring his cock. “The need for oral stimulation,” he commented before asking, “how hot are you out of ten?” Funny enough, she put up her fingers instead of releasing him. Eight. “Hmm, I see…there you go, sweety. You can take them deeper if you wish….” And she did, pushing them down her throat, choking and drooling over them. His trousers started to tightened as she was falling right where he wanted her. “Now, I must ask. If you are hot, why are you wearing your sweater? Hm? And jeans? That seems a bit stupid, doesn’t it?” She nodded, pausing her sucking. He pulled his hand away and she let out a long whine. “Then what should you do, hm?” Without much prompting, she took off her sweater and tossed it to the ground and kicked off her jeans along with her shoes. Slowly, he grinned, eyes meeting with her black bra. It wasn’t anything special. Very simple, but the way it was definitely a cup too small and her breasts were pooling out made him push her down. 

“I need,” she gasped out, not believing her own words. But she didn’t stress too much because anytime she fought the thoughts, her head banged. She looked up at him with desperate hooded eyes and her hands grabbed for his hands. “I need…I need….”

“Need what?” he asked, amused. “Hmm, I need you to be very specific.” 

A long belly deep whine left her drying lips. “Dr. Crane, stop. I need, I need it…something. Anything.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his hand resting on her thigh and inching up. “And how do you feel down here, hm?” He hadn’t expected her to let out a growl and grab for his belt. “Hey!” he scolded, grabbing her hand.  “I’m your doctor,” he teased, hand resting against her panty covered cunt. “Wet…pooling. Ah, you must feel so needy and tingly down here, don’t you?” Desperately, she nodded, pouting, hands still attempting to grab for his belt. “Hey, hey…come on. I’m a professional. I would never. Back down. Ah! Good girl.” He walked over to the cabinet and got a clean glove before walking back over. “Let’s test the severity of this. If I wasn’t aware of your situation, I may have just assumed you were rabid.” He went to pull off her panties, but she beat him to it, kicking them off and propping her legs up. “What a diligent patient,” he commented, pulling up the stool. “Yes,” he nodded, looking over her wet folds. “Your labia appears to be puffy.” When he gave her outer lips a quick pinch, her hips jolted up. “Did you know,” he said, dragging out his words. “That the clitoris is much more than this little nub.” It spread her dripping pussy open with his ring and index finger while his middle rubbed gentle circles over her clit. 

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she felt this teasing sensation just barely pressing down on her throbbing, aching clit. “O-ohhh,” she moaned out, clenching her vagina walls, desperate for something to fill her. To ease the tension he was making worse, she subconsciously grinded her hips against his finger. “Please-”

“How nice of you to remember your manners,” he teased, pressing harder, rubbing in taunting circles with a constant pace. His eyes watched how her vagina clenched. She was needy for something and he wanted nothing more, but to fill her. He imagined for a moment how he’d take her; bent over, hips slamming into her ass. His hands would be squeezing her beautiful breasts while his mouth would be kissing her ear, whispering all the sinful things. She was white knuckled at the paper thin sheet covering the hospital bed. “Relax,” he told her. “You're trying too hard for release…let it come natural.” She released the sheet and went to her breasts, rubbing and pinching her swelling nipples. 

“Doctor!” she gasped out, hips buckling as she was teetering on the edge of a climax. “It’s been so long, please.” He pulled away his hand and slapped her thigh, pulling her out of her high. She cried, slapping her hands against her face. “Why!?” She was almost angry at him, her eyes glaring his way. But it was all too funny to him. She was still sweating and trying to catch her breath. 

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he said. “Doctor needs to take his notes.”

She swallowed, lip pouting. “To cum. I want to cum. It’s been too long and…and I just-please!” 

“I see,” he said, nonchalantly. “And if you could cum in any way, what way would you like to cum? Sorry, it is all clinical.”

She went to grab for his belt again, but he pulled away reminding her to use her big girl words. “Your…your cock. I want it. I want to ride it-”

“No,” he reminded, leaning into her face with a crooked smile. “I’m your doctor. Don’t you remember? I worked too hard for my license to lose it over fucking a desperate little girl like yourself.” She frowned, feeling an overwhelming sensation of depression. “Shh, it’s okay. Perhaps I don’t always have to be your doctor, but in this room, right now, I am…But! We can continue our finger examination.” He moved from the stool and sat on the examination bed. “Come here.” He barely got the words out before she climbed on him. With two fingers, he eased into her and pumped gently while his thumb rubbed her clit. She was resting over his legs, wiggling and grinding down on his hand. “Go on, it’s your job now.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she moaned out, closing her eyes. He warned her to start easy and allow the pleasure to build. It’d be more pleasurable and satisfying that way, was his rationale. And to his surprise, she did. Little whimpers filled the room as she slowly raised her hips to roll them over his fingers. With one hand, she braced herself on his shoulder and the other played with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples. He smiled, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.

“Are these sensitive?” he asked, pinching it with his other hand.

“Y-yes, doctor,” she cried out, fucking his fingers a bit harder, bouncing while the sensation built up.  “F-fuck,” she cried out, his thumb doing the devil’s work…or perhaps, an angles work? He pressed hard, rubbing circles and flicking it. His hand matched the speed she went. “S-hit, shit,” she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face in the crook. “D-doctor!” Something sinister built in her core. Something so beautiful that she hadn’t felt in such a long time….And she was not going to lose it. She grinded harder to the point there was just a little pain that sent her over the edge. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “You’re so wet. Are you normally a squirter? I can feel my pants soaking….” She could only answer in an array of moans and grunts. Nothing comprehensible. “You’re going to cum for me, pretty girl. Good girl.” When she went over the edge, she cried out in a silent scream, eyes rolling back. Bucking her hips, she let loose a stream of squirt. Not only soaking his pants, but his shirt. He wanted it all. Her orgasm was washing over her, but he was convinced she had just a little bit more in her. He released her clit, but continued to rub against her gspot. 

“Oh fuck!” She started to kiss against his jaw line. Between them, she let out words that hardly made any sense. A mix of admiration and desperation for the doctor. “T-too much…too much!” He was pushing her past her climax, and it consumed her, overwhelming all her senses. 

“Let a little more out,” he told her. “I know you-ah! Good job!” As he was about to finish his sentence when she lifted her hips and squirted a pool below her. Taking away his hand, he brought it up between their faces. With a pleased smirk, he sucked off the juices, and said, “it’s all clinical.”

[lordofshitposting]

General Inumaki headcanons because we have too little content of him and as the head Inumakier I have to make up for it

He's not a natural platinum blonde, he just dyed his hair, since his hair in his original colour palette was light brown.

He's talented at drawing (since Gojō said he is [source:Jujutsu Kaisen Stroll Radio]).

He loooves kids.

As a kid, he was isolated from the outside world for a long time because of his CT.

He watches funny cat videos on YouTube.

Has a sleeper build.

His ass does NOT read books. Like, even if he started one, he would 100% drop it.

He would only go to weddings for the food fr (unless it's a close family member or one of his friends).

He's held and played with snakes in the clan. I like to think that they own a few.

His room is pretty clean.

If it weren't for morning assemblies, he would wake up at like 11am.

The Inumaki clan has very high athletic expectations from their sorcerers. This is why Inumaki is so athletic, + natural talent.

He knows martial arts. His combat style mostly consists of Karate, Kuk Sool Won and Taekwondo (the Karate idea came from him using a hand chop in the Thorny Road At Dawn novel and Taekwondo is self explanatory. Kuk Sool Won because I wanted to add something more and this one looks like one he would use).

He can jump extremely high.

If you insult onigiri in front of him, he will either look at you weirdly or say something like "we will torture you".

Once he hid somewhere and threw a silicon snake at Maki, imitating a snake sound to scare her. He got his ass beat afterwards (this one is something I did LMAO).

He's a deep thinker.

Consequently to not being able to communicate freely, he's gone through a lot of self-reflecting, and he understands people around him immensely well too.

This is why I think if someone liked him he would pick up on it fast, lol.

He's a foodie.

He has a ton of silly pictures of himself and his friends in his phone.

No skincare routine. His flawless, soft skin is a gift from God.

Once Yuji asked him to watch a movie with him. It didn't seem interesting to him from the description and the trailer, like AT ALL, but he agreed nonetheless so that Yuji wouldn't feel bad.

I don't think he gets sick easily, but when he does, he acts like a baby. And Yuta takes care of him.

He doesn't kill the insects and flies in his room, unless it's something disgusting like a cockroach; he picks them up with a tissue and puts them outside.

It may not seem like it, but he got some sass in him fr. After Hakari, he's the second sassiest boy in Jujutsu High

So it is canon that he has low blood pressure (or hypotension), and I think this gets in his way in fights when he's pushing himself past his limit. Extreme and sudden blood lose can trigger symptoms of hypotension, which in his case I think are blurred/fading vision, dizziness, fatigue and fainting. A good example of him experiencing all of these is his fight against Hanami. After finding out that he has low blood pressure and reading about it, this explains his lightheadedness and him passing out during the fight. Maybe the source of his hypertension is his CT in the first place, who knows.

He's an INTP

He loves it when people compliment him! His reaction is always so cute (source: Jujutsu Stroll Radio when Gojō complimented his artistic skills, his reaction when Yuji said his technique is cool)

I wanted to put some more things his interests and preferences, like his taste in music, his favourite media, his favourite sweets, but nothing sits quite right with me when deciding such things, and I usually don't agree with the headcanons of others on these either. I will post such headcanons too, if I come up with anything.