#but mother dearest said the game looks pretty

[starmocha]

HE WILL BE MY HALF-BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MYSELF FUCK YEAH

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 19 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the Hightower dinner has brought forth a lot to think about, for both Valeana and Aemond. Rhaenyra is presented with an interesting proposition days before everyone returns from Dragonstone. Word Count: 5225 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fatphobia, child death, description of child deformity, mother's grieving.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: At this point the chapters are gonna be a bit longer, now that there are more moving parts.

“Marry Aemond? Prince Aemond?”

Barty smiled, “Yes, my dove. Would that please you?”

Valeana looked down at her fingers, which held onto a loop, needle and thread. The damask pattern she had been weaving into a napkin was instantly forgotten. She never believed that she would have ever hear those words; only in her wildest dreams her imagination would pull her into the delusion that she and Aemond would be husband and wife. Though each morning she was reminded of the reality of her life; a noble born lady she may be, but she did not hold a significant influence that would benefit the crown, save for her dowry and position of her father. And she was aware that she was not a comely girl, as was persistently confirmed by Aegon, Jace and Luke’s relentless teasing of her body and face, often likening her to a pink pig when she got flushed and sweaty during the humid days. 

Aemond was her dearest friend, and whilst she knew that he valued their friendship, she also knew that her appearance kept him from seeing her as more than that. Even if… Even if there were times that she believed otherwise. It was difficult to discern where his heart was, particularly when they weren’t alone and were being watched by Aegon. Though when they were alone, Aemond was the sweetest boy; not afraid to hold her hand when helping her down narrow stairs or a steep hill, or tending to the needle pricks she often gave herself with a gentle kiss and a tentative diligence to clean the small wound. Sometimes he would bring her gifts, such as sweets, new fabrics and thread, pretty stones he found, or flowers to decorate her plaits with. Their conversations were effortless as well. One of her favourite things to do was to make him laugh, as serious as he was most of the time. 

Those moments of hope would shatter when others invaded their privacy. Aemond would quickly become indifferent, albeit polite and courteous, even when Jace, Luke, and Aegon collectively teased her on this and that in front of him. It hurt, naturally, but Valeana understood why. If it wasn’t her, it was him, and she would gladly bear the burden as long they did not direct their bullying onto Aemond. Because that is how much she cared about her dearest friend.

Now her father presented her with her dream come true on a golden fucking platter, and she hesitated. Valeana always pictured herself accepting in a heartbeat, but now that it actually happened, doubt and dread settled in her young heart. Is this what Aemond wanted? Did he find her worthy enough for his cloak? Did he actually care enough about her to want to get married? Perhaps not as lovers, as she wished to be, but at the very least very good friends that were comfortable and loyal to each other.

And mayhaps if he did not think her worthy of him, a prince, she could try to be. She’ll try to be worthy for him. 

“It will please me greatly, father,” Her cheeks were rosy red when she said this, but her eyes were still on her lap. “Though I wish… I wish, if you allow it, that we could be wedded in the tradition of our ancestors.” 

Taken back, Bartimos slowly sat down on an ottoman in front of his daughter, “Well, I– this is a surprise… But, if the King allows it, I do not see why not. Though in order to do so, you must learn High Valyrian… Not the bastardized Braavosi one your Grandmother speaks.”

“I will learn!” Valeana looks up, green eyes marbled in her eagerness. “It is not so different; I already know some phrases! Grandmama sometimes sends me letters in Valyrian for me to translate on my own.”

Barty chuckled, then reached out to caress the apple of her cheek, “It is still a difficult language to master, but… I suppose you do already have a head start.” He stared at her fondly, eyes roaming over her features and finding his late wife in them. Lysa also wanted to learn High Valyrian, so she could teach Clement and Valeana herself one day. Sadly, that never came to pass. 

The Lord of Claw Isle nodded, “Alright. It is settled then– I shall petition with the king once the betrothal is set in stone.”

Valeana bounced up from her seat and pounced upon her father, wrapping her little arms around his neck and burying her face in there. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Anything for my little dove,” Barty pulled her into his body in a protective and loving embrace, a large smile breaking through the whiskers of his mustache. He pushed her hair behind her ear and gave her a kiss on her temple. 

“Want to know a secret, my dove?” He whispered into her ear, “You are my favourite. Shhh do not tell your sisters.”

Valeana giggled and gave her father a playful whack on her shoulder, “Don’t be silly, papa!” 

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his face this time, because it was true. Valeana was his favourite… She was the last of her; the last of Lysa, his first and truest love. 

Aegon casted a look over his shoulder as they approached the serpentine steps. He spotted his brother heading in the opposite direction once he exited the Tower of the Hand. The eldest prince grinned widely, entirely satisfied with the night’s events. Turning back around, he quickly jogged to catch up with Valeana, who kept her attention trained on the couple ahead of her. 

Daeron joined them after supper wrapped up for the night, as his lodgings were in Meagor’s Holdfast with the rest of the royal family. His cousins remained in the Tower of the Hand, and Aemond, being the gentleman that he was, left to escort Lady Maris back to the north tower. Daeron and Shyla were walking shoulder to shoulder a few leagues away, with the latter asking questions, and the former basking in the attention of it all.

Aegon hummed happily, “Look at them. I’ve never been so happy.” Valeana spared him a look, but didn’t comment, so he continued. “Daeron is never going to know what hit him.” 

She rolled her eyes with a tisk of her tongue, “You realize it won’t last.”

“As long as it is not directed back at me, I do not care.”

Shaking her head, Valeana tuts again, “Poor young Floris. She and my sister are friends, you know.”

“Should make quite a show,” Aegon dismissed with a smile. “Another Baratheon-Cletigar battle. The Storms and the Sirens. You should write a story about that.”

Val rolled her eyes at him, and his only response was that insufferably endearing cheeky smile. She huffed and looked a head as they turned around another flight of stairs. 

“Why did he bring her?”

Aegon contemplated the answer before giving it, “Well… He did not know you would be present.” She hummed in agreement. “And since he had his lips all over your tits half a day ago, if I had to take an educated guess, he is trying to put up a display.” 

“A display? You believe he is using her?”

The prince gave a shrug, “I have never seen Aemond try to court anyone, until now. Cannot be a coincidence that he chose to start under your presence.” 

Valeana gave a dejected sigh, one that turned his contented smile into a pout of concern. “I do not know. Maris is the exact type of woman Aemond would want in a bride. It’s so painstaking perfect, it just makes me want to–”

Aegon stopped walking, taking hold of her elbow when he did so she was forced to make a half spin to face him. Something unsettling was starting to take root in his bones, that made him feel cold and hot all over, at the same time.

“You are jealous,” it was a statement, not a question. One that she confirmed by not even looking him in the face, so he continued, “Because you want Aemond back.”

“It does not matter,” Val marched on and Aegon was quick to follow. “He does not want me back.”

Aegon scoffed dramatically, “The bruises on your chest say otherwise.”

They were lucky they were alone at night, with only distant guards patrolling the courtyard that could not hear a word of this conversation. Otherwise, she might have pushed him down the stairs. 

“Physical attraction is not the same, Aegon. Men have no standards when it comes to getting their cocks wet, but it is an entirely different scenario when it comes to commitment, to having someone to call wife, and then mother to their children. What happened this morning… It meant nothing.” 

“I disagree… With the ‘it meant nothing’ part. The first is a bit illuminating…” Aegon lifted his chin up as he quickly mused over what she said. Clearing his throat and ridding himself of silly daydreams, he continued. “If you weren’t so consumed with your hatred of Maris Baratheon, you would have noticed my little ploy had an effect on him.”

She blinked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Aemond is possessive,” they were arriving at the Holdfast grand doors, and he paused as the guards opened the door for them, ushering them inside. He lowered his voice then, careful to make sure it didn’t echo through the cavernous space of the antechamber before the grand staircase. “He gets territorial when his things are being touched by others.”

“I am not a thing, Aegon.”

“No, you’re much more precious than that,” his comment earned him a curious glance. “You weren’t looking, but every show of affection I gave you was met with an eye filled with such fierce contempt. He had completely forgotten to eat the food on his plate. He barely ate a thing the entire time; he was too busy glaring at me.” 

Valeana’s steps were slow as they climbed up the stairs, only stopping when they reached the half landing. She pivoted in front of Aegon, leaning her elbow on the railing and tilted her head up at him. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying… He isn’t as uncaring of you as he thinks he is,” Aegon crossed his arms as he leaned against the same railing. “He hasn’t changed… refusing to admit to his weaknesses in front of people. Aemond saw you as one as children, which is why he pretended you were merely part of the wall tapestries whenever the seven of us were together. Had things been different, and I had been keen on you then, Aemond would have been all over you, staking his claim publically. ” 

Aegon watched her carefully as she looked down at the floor, her free hand moving up almost instinctively over her belly in an act of self consciousness. 

Aegon knew what he was about to suggest could be the biggest mistake of his life, but… it also meant that he would get to be closer to her. Now more than ever he realized that is what he craved most. He took her hand away from her stomach and brought her knuckles to his mouth. He dragged her fingers along the line of his bottom lip, and never wavered his eyes from hers. 

“Aemond can have his farce courtship,” the corner of his lip curled upward. “And we can have our own.”

Aemond failed to ignore the pointed leer of his grandfather when his guests left the Tower of the Hand. He disappointed him, he knew, but the prince found he lacked the capacity to care. Instead of acknowledging it with a whispered apology, he merely nodded to him and gave him a curt “good night”, his final one for his mother’s family that eve. 

The aftermath of the hydrangea debate was awkward, to say the least. Of course it was Aegon who broke the silence with an impressed laugh, and once again chose to put his hands on her.

“Oh, my darling Valeana is full of surprises, isn’t she? The mind on this one,” then Aemond had to watch his brother’s filthy hands comb back a strand of hair over her shoulder, where his fingers trailed down the length of her arm down to her elbow. 

He supposed he had to thank Aegon, though, because the sight of it softened his cock, saving him from the tension of his breeches.

The conversation took a stiff turn as Lady Sam attempted to salvage the mood by expressing her interest in the histories of Old Valyria. His previous attempt to put Valeana in her spot was quickly forgotten, but eventually Daeron did bring out his lute and played for the table. Maris decidedly remained quiet for the rest of the evening. 

Until the door to the Tower shut behind them. 

Granted she did wait until Aegon and Valeana were farther down the courtyard towards the Serpentine Steps before she opened her mouth. Aemond only half paid attention, as his eyes lingered on the long white gold train of Val’s hair that glowed under the light of the moon. He only turned away when he noticed his brother cast a look over his shoulder. 

“I cannot believe I judged her so poorly,” Maris continued to rant. “I always thought that I had a good judgement of character, though clearly I was mistaken. I should have heeded Cassandra’s warning about her… But stupid me, I shrugged it off and listened to Ellyn instead.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Ellyn is the stupid one. I should have known better.” 

That statement pulled Aemond out of his reverie. He was lost in the memory of Valeana speaking in the High Valyrian tongue, which he was cautious to admit sounded like melted butter to his ear. He was lucky his leather jerkin covered him down to his thighs. 

“Your elder sister warned you about her?” He attempted to sound casual, yet conversational. “Whatever for?” 

Maris let out a sigh, and all the bravado drained out of her. She folded her arms and regarded the floor as they crossed through the courtyard. 

“That Valeana Celtigar has an ill reputation in court already, having no sense of decency for her honour by fraternizing with your brother so callously and scandalously,” every word had a bite to it, despite her low tone. Aemond tended to ignore gossip fabricated by women of the court, but it seemed that his own observations had not gone unnoticed by others. “And… Floris – Grafton, that is – she had told my sister, and she in turn told me of the history you share with Valeana.” 

Aemond pursed his lips as he hummed, tilting his head back as he did. He supposed that the story of how Aemond Tagaryen pushed a girl down the stairs was public knowledge, though he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of conjecture came out of it. 

“Valeana Celtigar and I grew up together. We did not have much of a friendship other than simply sharing a childhood,” it was a lie he was accustomed to making, so every word came out smoothly and left little room for Maris to doubt. “Though, if you are worrying about what had ended our acquaintanceship, allow me to ease your mind, Lady Maris.”  

He slowed to a stop when she turned to him, arms still crossed as she patiently waited for him to explain. Aemond’s arms were pinned behind his back, looking nonchalant as he retold the tale of the worst night of his life through liar’s teeth. 

“Valeana’s fall down the stairs was an unfortunate accident. She would not leave me alone; I suppose because she fancied me more than I did her. That day, she accosted me in the hall, where she stood precariously close to the stairs and… regrettably, I reacted too harshly to her advances. I was unaware of how close to the edge she actually was…” He turned away from Maris, swallowing thickly as his regrets bubbled in his throat. The shame for his blatant lies weighed in his chest like the crushing step of a dragon’s foot. “I paid the price with lashings, and she and her family left for Claw Isle, freeing me of her, until now. It seems she seeks out more repercussions from me, as if I committed a greater sin.” 

Maris shook her head sadly, sympathetically, “You already paid the price, and yet she still seeks out revenge for what had happened when you were children?” 

“If trying to provoke me is her way of revenge, then she will be disappointed,” Aemond turned back to the woman in front of him. “I am a man, not a child. It appears she has not grown out of that era of her life… And I am not inclined to let her ruin my happiness because she rejects her own.”

Maris smiled kindly, and took a few stops to close the distance between them. Her hand bravely finds purchase on his chest, and she craned her neck up to look at him, “You are right. You are too good for her, Aemond. Do not let her get the best of you.”

He forced himself to smile, albeit a small one. Aemond unlaced his arm from behind his back and offered it to her, “Your support is appreciated, Lady Maris.”

She took his offered arm, and wove hers around it, tucking her hand into his elbow as they continued to walk towards the north tower. 

Aemond was too preoccupied with stifling the unwelcomed shame he felt into the back of his mind to notice Maris’ head leaning on his shoulder. All he could concentrate on was reaching out for his voice of reason, the one that told him he should not feel guilty, that Valeana deserved his lies. He was merely protecting his heart, like Cole had advised. 

“She is insufferable,” Maris restarted her rant. “I can see why you never got on with her in the first place. From what Cassandra tells me, she is quite a spoiled little thing, always being doted on by her father, while poor Floris and Shyla are on the sidelines…” 

It went on like that, Maris ranting and criticizing Valeana for things that even he knew were not true. It brought him back to the times that he remained silent to her teasing. Jacaerys would point out her flaws in a heartbeat, even when she tried to desperately hide them, like the birthmark on her neck, or the frizz of her hair. Luke would pile on to it, and Aegon would always have some vicious insult flung her way that would triumph everything else. Shyla and Floris were caught in the crosshairs as well, but it was not nearly as much, since Floris often snitched on them, and Shyla was young, naive, and delusional, and so it affected her little. Valeana, though, took it with quiet resolve, pretending it was water off of a duck’s back. He always envied how she was able to take the blows, unlike him who would lash out like a cornered snake. 

Maris gave a haughty laugh suddenly, “And who is she fooling with that dress? So tightly confining, trying to hide the sad fact of her appearance. Hate to break it to you, darling, but we all know you are fat. You can put a corset on a pig, but it still a pig–”

“Maris,” Aemond halted before the shadow of the north tower. Something white hot shot through him, like a well placed lightning strike down his spine. Heat raised from his core to his face, and which felt like it had combusted in fires of fury. 

His tone clearly frightened her by the ghostly shade of her face, and the surprised gape she gave him. Aemond’s nostrils flared and his teeth grinded, a testimony to his self control, as he held back saying something he would regret. He had many things he wished to say… Many belittling insults that would be satisfying to wield, but that would mean he was defending his enemy. 

And yet… when Maris mocked Valeana’s appearance, it felt like it was an insult to his own person.

“It is not becoming of a lady to demean another’s appearance,” The volume of his voice was painfully controlled; each word was pulled from a taut jaw. It had the desired effect of intimidating her, as Maris pulled away from his arm and shrank under his scrutiny. 

“I–I only meant… Please, I apologize, my Prince,” Maris dipped into a stiff curtsey, her head bowed in shame. “I got…I got carried away.” 

Aemond turned away from her, shooting his attention to the east, but staring at ultimately nothing. The black canvas of the sky served a respite for his bristled mind, so he concentrated on it for a few beats before exhaling slowly from his nose and pursing his lips. When he returned his eye to Maris, she was holding herself and avoiding his ire by regarding her shoes peeking out from underneath her mustard skirts.

He extended his hand to her, an olive branch and a silent gesture of forgiveness, “Come on. I do not wish to anger your father by loitering too long.” 

Maris’ dark eyes met his briefly, and her small smile conveyed that she was relieved she had not angered him into completely casting her off. Though the truth of it is, she did. Whatever charm Aemond found in her had vanished. Now she was no better than everyone else… no better than Aegon, Jace, Luke or Floris. No better than himself. 

The loss of the little Princess Visenya weighed as freshly on Rhaenyra’s mind as it did the day it happened. She knew it would come eventually, since the day she was born with physical deformities that were both marred her sweet visage and impeded her ability to breathe. When the maesters saw that they were actually able to see her heartbeat through a thin layer of translucent indented skin (as if a dragon’s claw reached and plucked a chunk of her flesh and it had healed over), Rhaenyra knew her only daughter was not meant for this world. It was a miracle that Visenya lived for as long as she did, but eventually a chill caught in her lungs, and the babe was no longer strong enough to hold on.

Rhaenyra always wanted a daughter. Five pregnancies, each time she prayed to the Mother to grant her one, but the Crone decided she preferred irony and bestowed her son after son. Visenya… She chose the name of her daughter in her youth, and it was a name she kept firmly to her chest until that day could come. She wanted her daughter to be who she failed to be: a warrior, a conqueror, a queen worthy of the name. And then… When she finally got her Visenya, that dream vanished. All Rhaenyra could do was hold her for as long as she could until the inevitable day came when the Stranger would take her from her arms and escort her soul on a billow of smoke from a black pyre. 

The funeral had been held two days ago, but Rhaenyra couldn’t rid the smell of ash from beneath her nose. She spent most of her time alone in her chambers, only gracing her presence to her guests when appropriate. After the funeral, people dispersed from the island one by one, but those closer to her remained. Namely, her family, and the Celtigars, who in some respects were a dear neighbour. Granted, Bartimos was more of a friend – if you could call it that – with Daemon, and the lord of Driftmark, who was still unconscious in bed, showing no signs of recovery. 

Rhaenys at least attended the funeral, bringing Baela with her. Though the former only remained for two days, the latter remained to help console her step mother along with her twin, Rhaena. 

Baela and Rhaena, the only daughters Rhaenyra was allowed to have. While she loved them greatly, they were not a part of her like her sons were. She did not see herself in them, as she wished to see in Visenya. She looked at them and saw her goodsister, the late wife of the man she was now married to. She envied Leana for having such beautiful, strong daughters. 

Daemon came to her, interrupting her silent grieving a day after the fire finally died down to embers in the pyre. He strode to the vacant armchair across from her, and regarded her like he usually did, with violet eyes through a curtain of silver lashes as if he could read her mind. Or at least tried to. He was not good with weakness, nor emotion, but he could recognize it when he saw it. His daughter’s death pained him as much as it did Rhaenyra, but his grief took him to other places, and that is why he was incapable of knowing how to console his wife. Daemon didn’t even know how to face his own heartache. 

“Lord Bartimos spoke to me earlier,” He broke the silence at last with a tilt of his head to try to catch Rhaenyra’s eye. She was staring out the window, where Seasmoke flew in the distance, baying into the sea to express his loneliness. When she only acknowledged him with an uninterested hum, he continued. “He had an interesting proposal regarding Jacaerys.”

At the mention of her son’s name, Rhaenyra tore her eyes from the window, and acknowledged her husband’s presence. She hadn’t the capacity to show any more interest than a simple, “What about him?” 

“A betrothal between him and his eldest blood daughter, the Lady Valeana.” 

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply as she pushed herself off the back of her chair, eyes returning back to the expanse of the sea beyond the window. It annoyed her that Bartimos would bring such a matter on the week of her daughter’s death, but she also could not blame him. She, Daemon and their brood should have been in King’s Landing, and that proposal would have been brought to her. At least he had the decency to ask Daemon instead of interrupting her mourning. 

Rhaenyra remembered little Valeana. The nasty business that happened with her and her half brother had slipped her mind after all these years. Outside of that, she remembered Valeana to be a sweet girl, talented in embroidery and singing. Although a bit rotund, she had a pretty face, and delighted Rhaenyra’s company a fair amount. The Princess had many fond memories of her, as if she were one of her own kin. Valeana had distinctly beautiful hair, which Rhaenyra took pleasure in plaiting when she could. She frequently scolded her sons for picking on her, but boys would always be boys, and would never listen to their mothers. The Crown Princess pitied the girl, to be sure, especially after knowing Lysa Lannister, and her close relationship she had with Rhaenyra’s parents. Valeana’s silver-gold hair a testimony to her Valyrian heritage, and had her eyes been purple like her own, Rhaenyra wondered if her daughter would have looked like that. She vaguely recalled how her chin was similar to her own. 

But Daemon knew Bartimos more than she, despite the decade she spent on the council with him. Particularly in the recent years, when the Lord of Claw Isle was in constant business with Dragonstone, Driftmark, and Pentos across the narrow sea. Rhaenyra hasn’t seen Valeana Celtigar since she broke her leg, but she has met Clement more times than she could count. 

If Visenya had lived, if she was the first to be born, Rhaenyra could see her daughter marry the boy. Though it seemed the Crone presented her with a different alternative in uniting Celtigar, Velaryon and Targaryen blood. 

“What do you think?” Rhaenyra asked, wetting her lips when she realized how dry they were. “Have you met her?”

“Once or twice,” Daemon gave a shrug. “A melancholy girl. Barely left her chambers from the times I was at the Isle.��

“I do not blame her,” Rhaenyra shook her head sympathetically. “She nearly lost her ability to walk, all due to the cruelty of arrogant boys.” 

“Boys will be boys.”

“Boys who will be boys, grow up to be men who will continue to be boys.”

Daemon smirked, snorting silently through his nose, “I think it is a smart match. Valeana’s dowry is hefty. Largest offer I’ve heard so far, which can be useful in the future. She is of Valyrian descent, and at the ripe age for siring heirs. Jace could do worse.”

“But is she fit to be a Queen?” 

“I suppose that is a question only you can decipher in time. She is currently in King’s Landing, awaiting with the rest of the Realm for the Conclave to begin.” 

Rhaenyra looked down at her hands, where she fiddled with a hangnail on her thumb, “I do not think I’m ready to return.”

Daemon remained silent, deciding to sit with his urge to convince her to stop her weeping and move on. There was work to be done, and life did not hold still for the grieving. But, he couldn’t… This was Rhaenyra. His Rhaenyra. And she grieved for their daughter. Their little princess.

“I could go in your stead. Bring the boys with me, and Baela and Rhaena can remain with you until you are ready.” 

“If ever.” 

Daemon smiled ruefully, “You are to be Queen, Rhaenyra. Eventually your kingdom needs to see you actually care for it. If not tomorrow, then soon. And I do not believe you fully trust me to keep your sons in line.”

Rhaenyra failed to contain the curve of her smile at the last statement, “You would encourage them, no doubt.”

“As fathers do with their sons.” 

Rhaenyra rubbed her hands on her thighs, then sat upward, “It is decided then. I’ll speak with Jace, so he is not blindsighted by it. Though I wish for him to have his free will– if he, or Valeana, do not care for each other, I cannot force them to be husband and wife.”

“And what of Luke? Shall I comb through the gently bred maidens of court for a bride for him as well?”

Shaking her head, she also laughed, albeit soft and airy. “No. No, I have been thinking about proposing to Rhaenys about a marriage between him and Rhaena. They have grown close over the years, and it would please both she and Corlys to have her as Lady of Driftmark.”

Daemon gave a gentle nod in acknowledgement to her wisdom, “Is there anything else?”

Rhaenyra gnawed down on her bottom lip as she folded herself slightly over her thighs with intertwined fingers cupping one of her knees. She fiddled with her fingers, thumb continuously brushing over the hangnail, embracing the slight sting of pain to anchor herself to reality. 

“I should speak to my father. I want to hear his counsel on this.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SNEAK PEAK Bartimos lifted up his head, the weight of fatherhood weighing on his shoulders and mind as he regarded his first two children. He rested his violet eyes onto Valeana, and asked softly, contradicting the tone he was using earlier.  “Valeana, your brother has a point… Why would you agree to court a man who teased you relentlessly and ruthlessly as a child?” “We talked about that,” Val responded, in truth this time. “He apologized for it, sincerely, and… did me a selfless favour to earn my forgiveness. Princess Helaena could vouch for him, father, if that eases your doubts.”  Clement’s jaw stiffened as he and Bartimos shared a look; the former still heated with disapproval, silently urging his father not to relent. The latter looked conflicted. Finally, the silence was broken by Ursula’s placating hand on her husband’s arm.  “Dear, mayhaps now is the time to tell her.”  “Tell me what?”  Bartimos hesitated before answering, looking between her, his wife, and son. He righted himself, and slowly walked around the armchair, making his way over to Valeana.  “My dove,” Val’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, for being suspiciously used after the lectures she had to endure seconds ago. “I do not want you to court Prince Aegon.”

Notes: We all love a good fake relationship trope. Of course it needed to happen in this hot mess of a fic. Also im just so excited for you guys to read the first five chapters of the 20's. It's just...so good, I feel.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

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Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[afortoru]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

Pairing: ceo!Toji Zenin x reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst

Word count: 2.2 k

Warnings: old memories both happy and sad ones ig

Note: I wrote an hardcore family fluff...yaay! also im sorry Sukuna stans for making him your brother in this fic TT and if your are reading this, i love you *mwah*

The Zenin Group Pvt Ltd is one of the most infamous company in this world of bussisness. Everyone who's associated with it, gains nothing but tons and loads of money as being there slaves. Even there rivals have given up. Everytime there bussisness rivals try to took them down, something happens to their own company and they'll suddenly loose there shares and shareholders. Even a thought of having The Zenin Group as there rivals would make them shiver, causing them sleepless nights. 

But who wasn't affected by this so called infamous company was The Ryomen Interprises Pvt Ltd. The Ryomen's was on top with their business as much as the Zenin's were. They were infact the only rivals who were standing long and tall infront of the Zenin's. The two groups who couldn't bring each other down to hell by there little games decided to play with your's and the upcoming young ceo of the Zenin group, Toji Zenin's life. 

You were the only daughter and the second youngest child of the family with your older brother Ryomen Sukuna. 

Sukuna was one hell of a cold guy, ignoring the girls lurking around him to get his attention, not giving in into cheap pleases from the business partners and the list goes on. For the the outside world he was a stone cold narcissistic rich guy but the one's who got to see his soft side were the one's he loved the most, his dearest little sister,you and your mother. 

Sukuna hold you two like his life depends on you too and it did. Your father, Mr. Ryomen would also get his cold looks and an 'idgaf' attitude. Since Sukuna knows his father oh so well and what that man could do to continue his legacy.

That's why he didn't thought for a second when your father finally wanted him to take over their business and become the ceo. Sukuna thought he could finally make things right with the company under him but later did he knew that some decisions were still under your father's hand.

You were busy checking up the decorations for the party held for your brother being the new CEO.

"I see you're pretty excited about this, huh!" you can tell how annoyed he was with all the preparations. "Atleast let me pretend like I'm preparing for my big bro's wedding or something like that" you said walking towards Sukuna whose expressions has turned from annoyed to confused. "Well looking at the way you 'shoo' people around you specially women, I don't think so you're getting married any soon" listening to your words he looked at you with a annoyed grin "so is that what my sister wants from me now huh, what else do you want, should I rip my heart out for you" he stated "you should totally, maybe then I can sell it to buy myself the new book in my wishlist" you winked at him. Sukuna stood their with a shocked face thinking how can his lovely sister be so mean, oh wait you're his sister there's going to be something about you that's in his personality too. 

You went back to look over to the decorations as squeeled from your place as you felt someone's tickling you. "You really gonna be this mean to me huh, never thought this much money couldn't buy you a book but my heart would huh?" he jokingly mentioned while you were on the verge of tears from laughing. "Sukuna stop please, I'm sorry stop...ahhh you idiot I'm gonna tell mom, MOM" you made yourself free from him as you started running outside to the grand house garden. 

"Wait you-" he called you out as you made your way towards your mom looking back at him with a funny expression on your face. "I gonna tell mom you're- , ahh!" You weren't looking in front while running as you felt someone stopping you. 

"What's so funny kids?", you looked to see the face of the man your brother hates the most, your father. "Why are you running after her like that my son?" he stated with a smile on his face. Sukuna didn't mind his words as he took your hand about to leave but you pulled away. "Nothing dad, we're just going to see mom" you said not wanting to be rude to your father. 

He gave you a gentle smile and then he started walking towards Sukuna "Son i know you don't like me but atleast try to act not that mean, can't you?" , "I don't like you?, I hate you... stop being delusional." Sukuna states with an annoyed expression.

"What's happening, I heard Y/N call me. Why'd you call me dear?" you with both the men standing with you turn towards the voice coming from the other side of the hall, you mother Mrs. Ryomen. 

She walked towards you and the two men with a gentle smile. Sukuna looks at his mother and then he sees your face, she's exactly like mom, he thought to himself. 

She greets your father with a gracious smile, as he nods and smiles back. "Why'd you call me dear?". You pointed towards your brother, faking a pout "Kuna, he was tickling me, i told him not disturb me while I'm working for ceremony held for him and here he's not even a little pounce of gratitude on his face", he grunts listening you complaining like a little kid "hell I'm not , and did I asked you to do this decorations when we already have so much workers around" he says as he pokes you on your cheeks." Mom, you see how rude he'd became now,I-".

"My dear son you should be glad your sister is happy and helping with arranging the ceremony of you being the new ceo, am I right darling?", your father directed this question to you mother, she just noded instead of giving any answer. 

"She's not actually happy-", he was interrupted by your mom. "Um Sukuna, dear I need you and Y/N with me right now, please excuse us dear", she asks as a permission from Mr. Ryomen to leave.

You slightly smiled towards him before you started following your mom and Sukuna. As your father stands behind knowing that he won't ever get the same closure from you and Sukuna the like you give your mother. He still appreciated your kindness towards him, atleast you try unlike Sukuna. 

He sighs as he walked around the house checking the preparations being held for his son's being the new ceo. 

Mr. Ryomen won't say that he loves power, but you knew he does and he'll put his family on the line for this forsaken company. He won't even think once to choose his company, established by your so called forefathers over his wife who sacrificed her career, his daughter who was kind enough to still smile at him and his son who'll put his life on the line for his family. 

Sukuna sat with your mom on the edge of the bed as you were trying to find something in the wardrobe. "Mom you sure you haven't lost it and kept it in the wardrobe?" you have been looking for whatever it was and you can sense Sukuna's being impatient. 

"Mom, I don't think so this dummy would find whatever it is, you should go and check" he asked her receiving a "shut up" from you.

Your mom was about to get up to help you find it before you exclaimed, "I found it! Here!". Sukuna examine a medium sized, maroon coloured box that you were holding.

"Here mom, kuna this is for you…me and mom got this for you", you handed the box to your her. She looked towards Sukuna, who was now confused on what and why you two got any gift for him.

Your mom's hands moved towards his face as she gently ruffles his hair and places her palm on his now slightly blushind cheeks " for you my dear son" , she says with a motherly smile over her face as she hand overs the gift to Sukuna. 

"B- but w-why…i mean is there anything special?", you chuckled at his stuttering."Open it first big bro, don't you wanna see what we got for you?" you reminded as his gaze went towards the box, what could it be, Sukuna thought to himself as he starts unwrapping it.

"I- it's a w- watch, but w- why?",his question made you walk towards him as you sat on the other side of the bed beside him. 

"Because we love you and wanted to give you something since we know you're doing all this for us that's why me and mom decided to surprise you with this little gift", you said with a sweet smile as you can see his expressions soften. 

"Thankyou so much both of you!", Sukuna felt he's about to shed some tears but he contained himself as he quickly held both of you and your mom in his arms into a hug.

"We know why are you taking the position of the ceo in your father's company, son. M- mom's s- so proud of you, she's so sorry she couldn't-" Sukuna shushed as she's now sobbing into his shirt. 

"Mom you did enough for the both us, please don't say like this. Whatever we do, it won't be enough to what you did so please don't speak like that", he uttered as he hold the both of you more closely and tightly like his life depends on it.

"Everything is fine, big bro but I kinda being suffocated, you should do a little less exercise", your words made your mom and Sukuna chuckle as he let go the both of you."If I won't exercise then who's gonna protect you, huh?" he questioned with a smirk with his look diverted towards you. 

"I can protect myself, alright. Don't go on this pretty face, i can beat some asses too" you stated proudly pointing a finger towards your face."And who said you're pretty?", Sukuna's word made you pout, gaining a chuckle from your mom. 

"Hey! mom not you too" you whinned.

"You're the prettiest, dummy…happy now?", your pout turned into a very much satisfied smile from his words as you nod. 

Your mother on the other hand can't believe how lucky she got having you and Sukuna as her kids. She cherish you two too much than she already do. Everyday you two get older, she can't help but want to spend more time with you two, see you bickering, fighting, laughing, just the desire to see you both increases and she can't help it. She knows that one day her daughter and son would have there own family, their own kids and maybe you two won't have enough time for her but she's just happy with the thought of you two being settled down with your spouses oneday.

"Mom, why the teary eyes?", she was snapped back to reality as you wipes her tears away, she didn't realised she was crying.

"N- nothing, just you two make me so happy I can't get enough of you two. Always stay like this together, protect each other, always stand for each other and never let anyone else break this bond between you too…mom loves the both of you so much" she sniffles as she pats one hand on your head and another on Sukuna's.

You and Sukuna looked at each other before hugging your mom exactly how you did it when you were kids. You two used two jump on her everytime you came back from school or in any occasion when you missed her. She would always take you two in her motherly embrace and the what you two felt in her arms is something you can say that's better than the feeling of even being in heaven, so warm, so tender.

It would be true to say that the three of you don't wanna break from this hug, maybe an eternity would feel less cause this love is something you could never get tired of. 

Your mother is so lost embracing her most precious possessions.

You were glad to have a family, who loved you so much that you couldn't imagine anyone else to live you more than then. No there's no way anyone who could give you there heart like your family, or was there?

Sukuna on the other hand can't believe how he got so lucky to have you as his sister and her as his mother. The more he's with you two the more he wants to protect you two from this world. He want to give everything best in this world to you and your mom. Sukuna might not be able to fight his father or change the past but he promised to himself that he would never let his mom suffer again, she is happy now but he knows what she's been through for the both of you and you, he lives to protect you from anyone who even thinks to hurt you. He swear they won't see the sun if anyone would even dare to think about you wrongly. He had taken this unspoken pledge to shield you and you too believed you would not find any men like you brother in your life until you met him.

Tagging my babies:

@lotus-n-l0ve @luvjiro @luckimoon @vagabond-umlaut

I'm still an amature writer so feel free to advise me please.

[vanguardangel]

if able, may i request a raiden x reader where the reader is just like a personification of a dog: loyal, bold, stubborn, probably ran into a wall at one point without even looking...just a ray of sunshine.

I AM SO SORRY ANON FOR TAKING SO GODDAMN LONG! For some bizarre reason, I've had the worst fucking writer's block for this particular prompt even though it's so cute and wholesome, and AAAH! BUT TODAY IS THE DAY I break through it and finally answer this! Thank ya'll so much for your patience with my dumbassery.

Raiden with a Golden Retriever S/O

(gif origin: https://www.deviantart.com/pituudmc01/art/Raiden-Metal-Gear-Solid-4-Guns-Of-The-Patriots-519844545)

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but there are mentions of war, violence, and vague mentions of Raidan's past which can get quite alarming and gruesome if you research into it.

So, Raiden's been through a lot. Like a lot, a lot, even before he became a cyborg. Between the SEARS program, the memory modification, and the absolute mind-fuck that was the Big Shell incident; it's no wonder our boy here got a tad edgy in MGS4. And yet, here you are, his personal ray of sunshine.

No matter what time you dropkicked your way into his life, Raiden will definitely consider you one of his dearest bonds, even if you weren't romantically involved. He admires your ability to smile despite everything going wrong around you. On his bad days, he may just cling to you, not saying anything, and listen to your heartbeat. You're living proof that the world isn't full of shit. On his worst days; he'll disappear, leaving only a note behind. Don't worry, he'll be back once he gets better control of his emotions. He's not going to risk any harm to his sunshine, even from himself. Especially from himself.

That being said; he will find it immensely fun to pick on you. This man will tease you a lot. Don't believe me? Check out some of the Codec calls in Rising. I swear, he enjoys flustering people (source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srR4aZMTYwE&t=2039s). And being his S/O means you're just a bigger target. Trying to get back at him will just egg him on. Don't be too surprised if you find yourself in a game of "who can get flustered first" on multiple occasions.

Your stubbornness is something that he's both proud and worried about. He's seen a lot of people buckle down when things get really stressful, even off the battlefield. And yet you keep on trucking. To the point, it's worrying. Start pushing yourself too hard, and he's going to start being a bit of a mother hen. Raiden, in canon, is capable of taking people's vitals with a single glance, and he's not afraid to hold that above you. He will match your stubbornness with his own and isn't afraid to get petty. Or physical. Be it setting his own timer for breaks or physically picking you up and pinning you down to rest, he will do it.

Overall; I think you'd be a pretty good fit! A fair balance and keeping yourselves on your toes!

[perpetualimaginings]

Dearest, Darling, Drabbles

my dad told me to write more gauntwood so I did... presenting: a flustered customer (Gaunt), and a confident, outrageously flirty florist (Elly) *leave a comment on A03 if you enjoyed plsss*

Ellwood, gently, and with a deliberate gentleness that captivated Gaunt’s darting stare for a moment, put down his scissors. “What’s she like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your wife.”

“She’s not my wife,” Gaunt hurried. “She’s…well, she’s —” He searched the shop, then sighed. “Truthfully, I’m not sure what she is. My mother —”

He stopped himself, acutely aware that over sharing to the florist the complications of his floundering love life was distinctively uncharacteristic of him. Perhaps it had something to do with the florist himself, staring, waiting, beneath a dark sweep of eyelashes. 

Ellwood smiled at the man’s abrupt end. “I am, myself, familiar with that sort of arrangement. I think lilies will be perfect.”

Gaunt didn’t enjoy how he emphasised ‘perfect’, as though their interaction were a game and Gaunt were losing. 

“Her name is Esme.” 

“Pretty. I assume she is pretty?” said Ellwood, who had turned away from the patchwork stall of flowers, to look at him. 

Not as pretty as you, thought Gaunt, and a heat enflamed his cheeks; Ellwood perceived this, of course, and decided to toy with him. 

[skye-huntress]

I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Episode 8

Okay, so we have Rae giving the political exposition. The game is called Revolution for a reason so of course there’s a lot of actual politics.

Oops, Rae, you almost broke character there. It’s tricky to discuss such things without it leading to a fight or alienation.

Wait, is that Lily? Yes! I was hoping they’d show her early since we’re not got to that particular arc this season. Even if it’s just a brief appearance, I’ll take it!

His wounds have to be pretty bad if this is what he’s like after receiving healing magic.

Can’t blame him for being cynical of the knights after a noble attacked him.

Look, Matt’s an idiot. We know that since he tries to talk to people while they’re working or on a date. So I can imagine him saying something stupidly provocative out loud when tensions are high, but Dede shouldn’t have butted in in the first place without Yu’s permission. And it certainly wasn’t his place to defend someone else’s “honour” when they weren’t even there to speak for themselves. Dede should never have talked to Matt, and he definitely shouldn’t have pulled out his wand.

I’m on Yu’s side. The Princes, all Royals really, should be more mindful of the voices of the people, otherwise they can’t effectively govern for them.

Ugh, I’m with Rae. The commoners have the most reason to be upset and Rae is expected to talk to them about the grievances while maintaining neutrality as a Knight. Those aren’t going to be fun conversations.

The Bauers are just like “Do it, Claire, we need her for this.”

That sentence is bullshit. Even if it was an accident, Dede still drew his wand on another student, and they were severely injured because of it. If he’d only just threatened him with the wand and no one was hurt, a week on house arrest might still be going easy on him.

On one side, there are the nobles who think they are entitled to step on the commoners all they want and be above the law. On the other, the commoners are sick of the mistreatment and unequal application of the law. And in the middle, the Church seemingly playing to both sides to look after its own interests.

The less I say about Yu’s mother, Queen Riche, the better.

Look at Claire, taking care of Ralaire and putting her in her pocket.

Uh-oh, Rae’s using her serious voice.

While everyone else was scratching their heads, Rae knew exactly what this sequence of events meant and what they’d eventually lead up to. But before she can deal with the plot, she wanted Claire out of harm’s way. After all, making sure Claire gets her happy ending is Rae’s ultimate goal, and she would rather her out of harm’s way as much as possible.

Now is our favourite masked weirdo’s time to shine.

“I don’t have proof, but I know everything.” It’s surprising how effective it is when Rae demonstrates knowledge that she logically shouldn’t be able to obtain, like Lambert’s true motive.

If you go back to that last conversation they had, there was more being communicated between Rae and Lene than what was said. Rae was begging Lene to stay with Claire and not try to save Lambert. I guess her sisterly like love for Claire was no match for what she and Lambert share.

And the hero of the day is Ralaire.

It was fun seeing people speculate what role the Masked Stranger had in the plot, but the truth is he wasn’t in the game Rae played at all. She doesn’t know everything after all. This was inevitable, a game has only so much content, so many characters and respective roles, but this is a whole world. There’s more here than Rae could possibly know about.

Ugh, time magic. That’s got to be cheating.

She’s just been betrayed by her oldest, dearest friend, but Claire still wants to help Lene.

Okay, that water bubble, the princess carry, the landing, that was pretty cool.

Yes, yes, we know, Claire. Rae’s magic is ludicrously OP, and even now she can’t resist a chance to flirt.

That said, Rae has her limits. She doesn’t have Rod’s insane magical reserves and I know that spell was one of her most powerful, and draining.

The problem with Chimera is that they have three attributes. Fire for the head, earth for the body, and water for the tail. We even see it use its tail to block Claire’s fire earlier. And each body part is naturally resistant to its respective element, which also happen to be the three elements Rae and Claire possess between the two of them. What I’m saying they’re at a considerable disadvantage.

I knew we were dangerously close to running out of time this episode. Guess we’ll have to see the epic conclusion of this fight next episode.

Just to be clear, this Chimera is more of a mid-game boss. There’s plenty of story after this, though we’re only going to get one more arc before the season is over. In fact, by the end of next episode, the mystery girl in the OP everyone’s wondering about should finally make her appearance.

[arilynn170]

November 12th, 2024

(I'm at a football game I was having a good time until I saw my father and sister it started to break me down I decided to go up to them and they ignore me I felt left out I walk around the everywhere while fake smiling holding tears back I see Ren and his new friend Darren)

Ren: Ari! Are you ok...? You sad... (Getting worried about her)

(I began to sob when he said "Are you ok?")

Me: Y-yes....

Ren: No your not... Wanna talk about it?

Me: Yeah... (Crying)

Ren: Come here give me a hug

(I hug him as I cry)

Ren: Shhh... I'm here for you.. wanna talk about it in private?

Me: Y-yes

Ren: Ok come with me

(He took me next to the bathroom)

Ren: Shh... It's ok... Let it out... What made you down and made you cry...?

Me: Them... (Point at my father and sister)

Ren: Who are they, dearest?

Me: M-my father and half sister... They ignore me and made me feel like a ghost... (Cries)

Ren: You know, there nothing better. Your beautiful, sweet, caring and cheerful (cup her cheek) and nobody can't beat that... She ain't like and him that's his own loss plus you have your mother and your brothers and your friends (hugs her)

(Smiles at him)

Ren: Look e' here there's that beautiful smile ... Um... Can I... Confess something to you...?

Me: Yes?

Ren: I- I'm in love with you... I know we know each other a year and I don't want to be friends... I want to be your everything... You changed me made me better than ever (smiles at her) I love you so much Ari... And another thing I wanted to confess I killed your boyfriend Brandon

(My eyes gone wide)

Me: Why....? Why would you kill him? (Giggles) Sorry... But thank you.. I love you too Renny

Ren: I couldn't see you being hurt and sad because a fucker like him, I can treat you better than he can... I would never EVER land a hand on you... (Kiss her cheek)

(I smiled at him and then kisses his lips he then picked me up off my feet)

Ren: Let's go somewhere to eat I can buy it for you

Me: Thanks I always liked you Ren

Ren: Your such a sweet girl, what you want me to buy you?

Me: Dr pepper, a pickle and a Popsicle

Ren: Ok (put her down and grab her hand and hold it)

(We went to get food and go back to our friends and continue to watch the home football game)

(I was laying on Ren's shoulder and continue watching the game)

Darren: Welcome back, is she ok?

Ren: Yeah it was family issues but I helped her and I got her food

Darren: Nice, the football game is about to end

(Ren started think about murdering Ariana's Dad and sister, he started to smile but he had other things to do)

Ren: Ari dear?

Me: Yes?

Ren: Want me to take you home?

Me: Oh I have a ride my teacher took me here and she's taking me home

Ren: Oh ok I didn't know (Kisses her scalp) your so pretty...

(After the game end me and Ren gave a long kiss before I went home)

I got bored so I made this short fan story

(Ren Hana belongs to Gatobob)

[cablyunkataplum]

A lot of pressure

Casey Gardner x Fem!/Pronouns Reader

Words: 1,417

Summary: Casey goes to your house and she notices the unusual machine in your living room, so you teach her to use it. And maybe tease her a little.

Written Curse: Use of Y/N! Second person! I'm not an english native speaker so I support on translators!--It's been a while since i saw Atypical so I hope this is not ooc o_0 See ya Darlings!

For a long time Casey had suggested going to your house or having you go to hers, but no matter how much you talked about it, there never seemed to be time or availability to plan it. In the physics class, the only one in which both were together, she returned to the subject, sitting next to you, taking advantage of the time you both had to solve some exercises. –-Hey, Y/N-- she said on the air, without taking your eyes off the notebook you responded with a small sound to make it known that you were listening to her --When will I go to your house?-- she said so sure that it was difficult for you not to arch your eyebrows –-I did not know that you were invited-- at this moment it was when you moved your eyes to Casey who with an unrepressed smile leaned to your direction. Grabbing a pencil, she made as if she had just been stabbed --what kind of betrayal did you just give me, oh my dearest Y/N? How could you?-- You removed the pencil and following her game you moved the pencil, seeing it delicately --what betrayal have I committed if the ignorance of my being denies me the right to greater knowledge than I, oh dear, beloved and gracefully lady Casey?--.

--Okay, that was cheesy-- she admitted and went back to her previous position --Yeah, that was cringe-- you thought. --But I’m serious, since it seems like you going to mine is like asking for a miracle--. For a few minutes, both of you focused on your work until she was done --So?-- --What?-- she turned her eyes with her limbs loose --About your house-- without answering the question you stood up and went to the teacher to check that the exercises were well solved, seconds later you saw how your girlfriend did the same, already sitting and passing between the sheets of the notebook you thought for a while until you had her back at your side --How about Friday at 4:00? I will make sure the food is to your liking, your highness-- you bowed over exaggerating a reverence, which Casey replied --I would expect no less from you-- --can we know what the reason for your game is, ladies?-- The teacher interrupted while he stopped to write, the others watching you but none spoke, without saying anything else the man turned his attention to the whiteboard and the students to their individual activities --At 4:00 then-- whispered and you agreed, after that the class continued without anything else to mention.

Casey watched as much as she could from the living room, it was really pretty, very different from hers, there were many decorations but not too many to saturate the view or look bad and they matched very well with the color of the walls and furniture, as she moved her eyes she noticed the machine that was in the opposite corner of the door -- what is that?-- Putting the things of both in place you asked what she meant, she pointed it and turning in the direction you saw towards the corner --Ah, it’s my sewing machine, well, not mine but I’m the one who uses it the most-- she walks until she gets there and be in front of, examining it --it’s not like others I’ve seen-- and with things in the right place you accompanied her while she kept looking at the machine --not since it’s industrial, do you want to use it?--The question was very sudden for Casey, who was slow to give you an answer but very excited-- Of course-- a smile formed on your lips because of her attitude. Your mother called you to sit down and eat so that would have to wait, --What will we eat?-- --Lasagna-- on your way to the table after washing your hands you kept talking --I think it’s an excellent option-- your mother was already sitting and handing out the dishes --the only option-- you said --very well, it is better that we eat now-- said your mother, you all had a piece of lasagna and another plate with salad and started eating talking about other things.

–And that’s how you thread it– you finished explaining the main thing, sitting in an individual chair and Casey in another --it’s hard to memorize-- she admitted, she never really thought it would be complicated but she was wrong --at first but then it’s like walking-- settling in better you gave her a few papers with stripes --Since you had never used one it is better to start sewing on sheets-- you turned on the machine and made sure that everything was in place --go pressing the pedal slowly, I don’t want to have your dad here trying to find a finger all over the living room-- with a funny and nervous smile she arranged the sheet by lifting the presser foot manually --you can do it with your knee-- you reminded her and she did --don’t worry, I learn fast-- she moved the knee making the knee brace do it equally and the presser foot rise up, and well placed as she retracted the knee and the presser foot lowered, with parallel hands began to lower the foot, at a certain height the machine began to work giving its stitches at a semi-fast speed, by reflex she stopped --Wow, you didn’t joke that is fast-- you deadpanned for a moment but when you saw the line where she had sewn you almost laugh --what’s funny?-- , ..Nothing, nothing-- Changing the subject you concentrated on reminding her of the pressure with which the pedal should be lowered and the one to let “the fabric” flow through the crab --Very well, I understand, but this is my first day-- she stood up and stretched her arms --then there is no pay-- her mouth and eyes opened, standing from the chair you heard --I didn’t know you were that kind of person-- going into the kitchen and filling a glass with water you returned to where Casey was --if well, the contract says so -- both sat at the same time --damn little letters --she sighed --I guess I won't be paid for long-- you delicately placed your head on Casey's shoulder --Don't worry, I'll talk to the boss-- she put her head on yours, --That's very sweet of you--.

--Well, let’s go on-- you restored your posture, grabbed more leaves, and made various shapes meanwhile Casey finished up withthe straight lines. When finished, she gave them to you to do a “quality check”, --they are quite good to be your first pages-- leaving them aside you gave her the new ones with a small smile, --this is taking advantage-- she take them by flipping through them --how am I supposed to make a spiral?-- You raised your shoulders but you didn’t respond, she sighed again but heavier, with a movement of your arm against hers you asked --do you want to pay?-- -- Of course-- she said without much trouble --then end a spiral and you will have your pay --, --You are evil-- she connected your foreheads seeing eachother, --but you love me-- you whispered as if it were a secret to everyone except you, --Yes, I love you-- slowly she closed the space between you, joining your lips, enjoying the moment. But Casey who was still with a foot on the pedal pressed it and the machine started, getting you both scared, you cleared your throat --I should go for the pay -- you stood back going to the kitchen to look for the food -- ok--.

For several hours Casey continued practicing, from time to time you taking turns to teach her more visually, at 7:00 you said goodbye at the main entrance. --Thank you for everything -- you spoke first, the somewhat cold weather that made little clouds when talking --it’s me who should thank you Y/N, The next one will be in my house-- her eyes fixed on yours seemed so full of adoration that if you asked her to stop calling Casey she would do her best to fulfill your wish --Maybe I can teach you something-- she continued --like what?-- she stretched her arms and surrounded you with them and as before she leaned down until kissing you again, taking her time, your hands squeezing her arms and accepting it, until she pulled away --whatever you want--.

[the-white-void]

Dearest Humanity

Puppet AU where Darling is Tiamat from FGO headcannons

Soo... Since Tiamat's occupation is being the Mother of all life and a Primordial God so it would make sense if I would base Darling with her, and I'll make Gudako/Gudao

So let's say that when you first arrived you found yourself inside a ball-jointed doll body and you were tasked to summon someone

For the sake of this headcannon, let's say: the way you were tasked to summon her was that you arrived at an old manor where you accidentally activated a contraption that chained your arms and legs and a book appeared, and the only way to free yourself was to do what the book told you to do

You did what the book said and prepared everything, which was fairly simple as everything was in the room, and started the incantation.

Bing bang stage effects happen and you summon a girl.

Not one you were hoping to get

And the chains dissipate, you were free and about to walk out.

Then the girl jumped behind you, holding you tight,and looked you straight in the eyes

You were pretty startled by her and you notice some details of hers now that she's close to you

And before you could say anything she lets go and gets embarrassed

You didn't know what to do so you just asked "uhmm... who... are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just- uhm... Nevermind" a string of silence came and broke again as she reintroduces herself

"I am Mother... No, that is my role. My name is... ARURU. I have come here as you have called me. Are you surprised, humanity? I am here to lend you my strength. Yes. That is my reason. Are you happy, human?"

You were confused about her but from her choice of words, she might be a being higher than humanity, most likely a god, so maybe you should just roll with it

"Well... ARURU, I don't know how to say it but, I didn't really want to summon you, I just got caught in a situation where I was blackmailed to summon you, soo... can you go back?"

She frowned and looked down as tears were forming in her eyes so you tried to comfort her, but you were left with no choice but to just accept her.

"Well ARURU, do you know your way around this place because I'm a little lost here?"

"Yes I do, don't worry human, ARURU won't get you lost"

Very reassuring to put your trust in a childgod you summoned.

As you both go along your journey she tells you many things hidden from what you saw in-game, specifically, the time before the primordial one, and you were starting to think if she was some secret final boss in the game but kept your mouth shut about it

Her time with you allowed her to recollect her strength, and as time moved on, she finds herself drawing closer to you

"[name] I originally left that contraption there for someone to summon me to regain my strength to protect my pride, but now... I'm here for you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner"

"Well it was pretty obvious that you made it, so I don't mind that much, just don't do it again"

As more power she gained, her form changed along with it

I guess she kind of became your mother figure since she took care of you so often towards your journey

"I have grown up. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid at all. I won't grieve anymore"

"You always say you care for me, so I'll keep you safe too"

"You've been protecting me for a long time already"

"Hmm... Well... you're right."

Time went on as she continuously grows to match with her power that even she's starting to get scared of it.

She says that at the height of her prime, her power, is something even she fears more than fate. Even her tone began to sadden

"Even if I keep growing bigger... Even if I lose my human speech... Even if I return to my original form... I'll still keep protecting you. Because I want to keep protecting you."

She was starting to scare you from how she described her original form, from how she would lose her human speech, her form growing bigger, and how she might destroy Teyvat as a whole.

But she wouldn't do that, at least, not to you.

She said she'll protect you, so she'd never do that

Right?

[starblue2406]

Now with the Disney live action boom which are announced every three days , the Harry Potter remake and the FNAF film that already has almost confirmed .Lately I've thought "If a love actions of my fic were made, what would be the cast of actors?".

I've been thinking about this during the showers! So here I leave my cast list of my imaginary live action cast of my fanfic XD: love actions cringe was made from my fic XD:

Attention: I don't know many actors, I prefer to see things in animated format, so forgive me if many appear in the same work or are very generic and predictable xd

Andrew Garfield: Damos Gaspar.

I know Andrew doesn't stick around to make the canonical Damos, but for my fic's version I think it's fine, after all in my fic he's a 24 year old guy and the way I draw him I try to favor that point of my fic.

I think Andrew without any problem can play the young priest who at the beginning is an optimistic young man with his destiny and little by little he discovers that the reality that he has believed all his life is more complicated than it seemed, besides that despite being a good guy he has his shades of gray.

I also like to imagine the interpretation he would make in the funny moments with Pili and the tense moments that will be quite drastic, if I can call them that.

Chris Evans: Arceus

As I said, I don't know much about actors, but in the hypothetical case that this live action had been done about 5 years ago, I would have chosen this guy for Arceus. Now not so much or maybe yes?... It's complicated, it's that Chris already notices the change weather after end game xd

But let's imagine that we have in front of Chris from about 5 years ago, so without a doubt he has the role for our llama perfectionist.

Ryan Gosling: Argique

The same as Chris, but if I give him a chance, he currently doesn't look so bad to try the kaloshiny.

Can you imagine Ryan playing Argique eating? It would be historic because of how funny it would be.

Tom Hiddleston: Marcus Koroterna

This would undoubtedly be our beloved emperor. With the great interpretation of him to Loki,he already has experience with characters who are charismatic villains. Also, just look at it! The wardrobe would be perfect! Not even Marcus's weird hairstyle could ruin that!

Jenn Murray: Acomfire

The same as with Tom Hiddleston. The character is made for her!I was literally based on Gerda from the movie Maleficent 2, for its great design and redesign. So I think she is the one, in addition to her, her fixed and penetrating gaze will transmit to the viewer that it's not a good idea to mess with the Emperor, because he has someone dangerous behind him.

Emma Watson:Olga Koroterna (young age), Ava Gaspar or Martha

Any of those three would suit you.

She could play Olga when flashbacks are shown of her when she was a young princess, with big dreams and determination to be a good girl.empress for her people.

Also the great Ava Gaspar, that restless woman who sought more land than the horizon showed her with great kindness and love towards her friends and loved ones, from the only Pokémon trainers of the dynasty and the great guide of our little Heatran.Can you imagine Emma in Ava's uniform? She would look amazing!!!

A character like Martha would also suit her well, after seeing her participation in the Beauty and the Beast live action and now that I have accommodated Martha's presence and role in the story, Martha would definitely suit her well! Now with Martha's new changes, they make her a candidate for the honor of being played by Emma. Pretty good for a character I owe a lot xD

Elizabeth Debicki: Olga Koroterna

What better role of an empress for someone who played the queen of the people?That's how it is! I speak of Elizabeth Debicki,who previously performed for the dearest Princess Diana. I haven't seen ALL of The crown, but for me she is the one to play the dearest Olga/mother-in-law of my friend Elgu xD.Also just watch it here! Olga's short hair and her crown would suit her perfectly!

In addition, she undoubtedly knows how to capture the pain and suffering of a woman in overwhelming situations that little by little destroy her.

Sarah Jeffery: Kenia Gaspar (young age)

I like the interpretation of this actress, her experience with the character of Audrey in descendants, I think it would help her with the interpretation of Kenya in flashbacks, since let's say that she was...A difficult girl to deal with, especially with Olga... Acomfire already talked a little about it and little by little I leave crumbs of it.

Michelle pfeiffer: Kenia Gaspar

Currently Kenya has not gone beyond mentions, technically we know nothing about her other than some things she has been involved in.I don't want to make spoilers, but if this actress is here it is because there is a specific role that makes me take her as an immediate candidate, it is a role of a character from a movie mentioned in this post. This character will be relevant later on, whether it is just a cameo, reference, flashback or full appearance is left to your speculation.

Hunter Doohan: Stephen Koroterna

He has that air of naive, of a good boy, different and familiar with loved ones. The perfect emperor.

Tom Holland: Pablo Gaspar (young age)

Just look at it! He is without a doubt Mew's apprentice, that innocence and hope for what the future holds fits perfectly in this actor I see this guy using the power to speak to the hearts of Pokémon and with a suitcase in hand to leave his toxic family and go see what fate has in store for him.I see the story of Pablo interpreted by Tom and without a doubt I believe that he is the chosen one of Mew.

Robert Jack:Pablo Gaspar

After watching his great performance in the series "the last czars", I realize that he is a very good candidate for the first Gaspar of the dynasty.A nice guy, but with problems when it comes to talking about his performance and the acts he did while holding the office that God gave them.

No doubt he is already an expert for that character archetype.

Luise Wolfram: Alix Koroterna

He already has experience with Alix, I can only say that xD

Angelique Boyer: Lesly

Oh yes, the great traitor of the archestian religion. The woman who made the pure angel of Arceus fall into pain, anger, disobedience and imperfection for the sake of jewels and a new status. The woman who was once called a heroine, the one who fooled everyone and the girl who is blamed for Arceus being so disappointed with the human race.

No doubt Angelique Boyer is the one for Lesly, she already has experience with sexy bad girls. Just tell you that she acted to be Teresa in the telenovela of the same name(jewel of Mexican telenovelas). Without a doubt I think she is the best of all this cast.

And that's my great cast! There are still many characters missing but I think those are the ones worth talking about for now, also as I said I hardly know any actors so it makes it much more complicated the situation xD.

And you? What do you think of this cast that occurred to me in each shower? Any new option or suggestion? Do you have your imaginary cast for your own story? Show me what's on your mind!

[eddathegreat]

I looked up at the house in confusion.

"So, right, I was going to warn you ahead of time, but couldn't figure out how to say it, and it seemed like the house might be a good way to broach the topic."

"You can begin your explanation, dearest," I growled.

"So, I didn't lie about anything," he said carefully. "There was just some stuff I had to omit."

"Understood. The explanation will begin now."

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a surprisingly endearing gesture, drawing attention to a vulnerable part of his body.

"So, humans can have really weird bloodlines. You know how every once in a while two humans have an elf as a kid?"

I nodded. "Our clan has knowledge of elves. Some shamans say they are a 'sub-species' of sorts, genetically distinct but able to reproduce with other members of the wider species without aid of magic."

"Right, so, elves aren't the only distinct sub-species."

"And what sub-species do you belong to?" I asked. I tried not to growl, I knew humans could have complicated relationships with families and larger cultural groups.

The question was answered by the enormous door actually opening. A woman of impossible size gazed down at me, with eyes that gleamed like crystal.

Then she caught sight of Samuel, and they lit up with an unearthly glow.

"Sammy! You're back! Is this your bride?"

"Hey mom. And yeah, this is Aria. We're not technically married yet, though. She needs your approval."

My heart caught in my throat. I was a proud warrior, I had subdued many foes over the years, but I did not like my odds facing the trials a giant clan may place before me.

"Well come on in, then, let's get to know her!" she said.

The giant woman trundled back into her enormous house.

I followed Samuel cautiously. The doorstep required an actual jump to get onto, rather than a step.

I wondered, idly, how many in my clan could make that jump, how many would have to pull themselves up one leg at a time.

Then another thought struck me.

"Is your athleticism a result of your heritage, or just needing to survive here?" I asked in a whisper.

I was surprised when his mother answered instead. "Oh, he practiced lots, our Sammy, but giants are born pretty strong. We have to grow into our strength. Sammy's still young, his strength will even out a bit by the time he's older.

Another thought sent me reeling. "Samuel, are you... of age?"

"Oh, yes!" he said, "Young for a giant, not for a human. Adult human, definitely."

"And he will always be my little boy," his mother said. "Oh, forgive me, I didn't introduce myself! You can call me Aggie."

I nodded, watching Aggie take out enormous pots and pans and begin to cook.

"I apologize for my rudeness, I cannot think of what to say," I admitted.

"My fault," Samuel said. "I should be able to explain more in a bit."

"We can get to that," Aggie said. "Right now, go talk to your brothers, they've missed you!"

"Oh right! Aria, come meet the triplets, they're loads of fun!"

We had scarcely turned the corner when we were met by one not-quite-so-gargantuan man. His skin was a big craggy, but otherwise he might pass for a human who was merely freakishly tall.

"Eh, Little Sammy? What are you doing back? With a girl?"

"Yep!" Samuel said proudly. "We're getting married."

The man stooped to look me in the eye. "Oh, not many orcs we get in the family. Aw, and she's a cutie, too."

I gave him a serious look, and the smirk across his face made me feel young and small again. "Ah, she's got fire! A fine bride, a wife should stand up to their brothers in law and be able to whip them into shape. She's got my approval."

"Aw, lay off, Three," Samuel said.

"Will do, Little Sammy!" he said happily. If he was at all like my own brothers, I counted that as a lie. "Two and Four are in the woods playing games. You've got your old room, should still fit you and the girl."

He winked and went on his way.

"Was there a reason for the triplets to be named this way?" I asked.

"My Dad thought it was funny. I guess it kind of is."

"I shall praise your father's sense of humor when I meet him."

"Oh, right. Um."

I felt a pit in my stomach. Another turn in the terrible rapids this day had become. "I apologize. I should not have assumed. Had I known..."

"Oh wow, wrong idea, wrong idea," Samuel hastily said.

"My dad isn't dead, he's just asleep for a few more months."

I breathed. "So giants hibernate?"

"Essentially, yeah."

"Very well," I said. I could not keep a growl from entering my voice when I asked, "Is there any other relevant information I should know?"

"Not really. I have one more older sister, Vanity, but she's on a long trip. The rest of the clan won't be coming over, so you won't need to worry about meeting them tonight. There's one other thing, but it's not my secret to share."

"Thank you," I said. I quickly added, "Your family seems lovely, and strong. They are welcoming."

"Yeah, they are," he said happily. "I was excited for you to meet them."

I smiled and nipped his cheek. "Shocking as this was, I am excited to get to know them."

He smiled and kissed my arm.

I rolled my eyes. He was far softer in manner and demeanor than the average orc, but maybe that was why I had found him attractive. Someone who was so ready to be silly and soft, unlike most I'd met.

After walking down the exceptionally long hall, we came to Samuel's room.

He was, of course, more orclike than most humans, so it did not shock me how many weapons he had hanging on his wall.

What shocked me was their impracticality.

"This is a terrible sword!" I said in dismay. "What smith would make this with a blade on both ends of the handle? And why were you using it?"

"I just thought it was cool," he admitted shyly.

I laughed. "We will talk about this later. Your mother is cooking."

His face lit up. "Right! Mom's cooking is the best. I traveled so long, at the finest meals, nothing beats her cooking."

The table we were sat at was the 'youth's table.' The chairs were larger than those normally used by humans. The table itself was piled high with assorted meats and vegetables.

"Do you want me to pick out the vegetables for you?" Samuel asked.

I shook my head. "It's not too much, I can handle it for a night."

The food was well-spiced, far better than it should have been given the scale. The meat was evenly cooked, soft and juicy.

"Oh, should we have saved you some rare meat?" Aggie asked.

Samuel put his hand to his face and groaned, "Mom, no."

"Orcs don't eat rare meat that much, we enjoy cooking plenty," I assured.

"Oh, dear, that was an insensitive question then wasn't it? I'm afraid I might be tripping over my own words for a bit."

"It was an honest question, and far nicer than many human towns."

"Oh that's for sure," Two said. "One town ran Four out because he looked like a troll."

"The comparison was hurtful," Four said.

"I agree," I said, "trolls are foul. You share Samuel's features, if a bit rougher."

Four sat up straighter at that. Samuel elbowed me.

I caught an approving look from Aggie as she sat down at the 'adult table' all by herself. She was large enough to break our chairs with one foot.

How long until Samuel was that big?

Aggie lifted an enormous spoonful of her own food to her mouth, and I saw rocks mixed in with meat.

I realized I was staring and averted my eyes, instead focusing on my own meal.

The meal passed with little conversation. I suspected that giants simply needed to eat a lot, and had little time for conversation while doing so. Samuel and his brothers each ate more than a human their size would physically be able to, and I ate until stuffed.

"Thanks for the cooking, mom," Samuel said. "You've gotten really good at getting the pepper mixed in."

She beamed at the compliment, and I added, "Thank you, sincerely, Aggie, for the room and board and company. All have been delightful."

"Aw, she's a flatterer! Such a good young girl, I can see why Sammy fell for you."

I elected not to mention that we had first met fighting a monster and had fucked still covered in its blood.

That probably wouldn't have given her a better impression of orcs, anyway.

"Well, now that we've eaten, there's some important business to get to," she said.

I nodded seriously. Samuel held my hand.

"You don't need my approval," she said gently. "You already have it. Samuel is a fine judge of character, we know that from experience, if he says you're good for him and for the clan, we believe him."

"So, no tests to give you," she continued, with a small smile on her face. "We give favors. Three, actually. We can't work miracles, but our strength and magic are great, and we live a long time. Ask for anything. We take family ties seriously."

The offer caught me off guard, but I had been coached by my parents and brothers, on what the tribe needed, what our priorities were.

I also remembered humility, and the needs and wishes of the clan I would be joining my own to. I did not know them explicitly, but they valued privacy and peace.

"I would ask for a spellbook, so that the children of my clan could be educated in greater magic. We always have need of greater understandings of nature and medicine. Second, I would ask for a pledge of food, should starvation plague our clan. Last, I would ask for maps, of all kinds, as our clan has become disconnected from much of the world, and has lost knowledge of how to physically navigate it."

"Granted!" Aggie said happily, before I could even process any anxiety over the request.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and Aggie smirked.

"I am glad I passed your test," I said warily.

Samuel was confused. "She said there wasn't any test, she just gave you favors!"

"The favors were the test," I said.

Samuel looked in horror at his mother.

"Now that that's settled, it's time to tell you an old secret of giants. It's not a well-kept secret, which is why Samuel didn't even tell you he was a giant at first."

Samuel's shock at his own mother's manipulations turned to a more tender expression.

"Giants don't stop growing. We get bigger and bigger and bigger, and stronger and tougher along with it. We don't age, we just eventually get big enough we just nap all the time, enough of us is rock we seem just like the mountains."

I processed that. "Samuel is going to outlive me," I said.

"Nope! That's the fun thing, that we need to keep secret," she said. "We get to share our growth, with one other person. Slows things down, lets us be awake for longer, act like mortals for longer. And the partner gets to share in that very long life and terrific strength."

Samuel would not outlive me. We would... both be immortal. This was an offer at immortality, and invincibility.

I bowed.

"I was already honored by your son's hand. Now that I know the truth of what he has offered me, I cannot express my gratitude."

"Oh get up off the floor," Aggie said, a twinkle in her crystalline eyes. "You've got the rest of a very long life to show servitude towards overbearing in-laws."

You’re an orc woman. Your human fiancee,somehow, survived the pre-marriage trial of beating three of your brothers in bare handed combat to prove himself as husband and is now being treated by the healers. Now, according to tradition, you’re going to his clan to prove yourself as wife to him.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Dearest Mother, your works are wonderful as always. This child craves for smut vampire x vampire hunter. please and thank you.

“On the bed. Now,” the vampire commanded. Obviously, the hunter wasn’t interested in those cheap vampire practices. A lot of vampires had a lot of lovers these days. It wasn’t that unrealistic that the hunter was the second or third person to be in the vampire’s bed today. So, with one lazy wave of their hand, the hunter refused.

“No, thanks,” they said bluntly, staring at those magnificent dark eyes. It wasn’t a secret that vampires were particularly seductive. Most of them managed to find lovers on the open streets, one flash of their pretty teeth made many humans fall for them within seconds. A primitive need to have a vampire on top of them was something people reported often.

The hunter would know. Especially this vampire was…complicated.

“Yes,” the vampire said. “Please.”

The melody of their voice didn’t suggest begging in the slightest which wasn’t that confusing to the hunter. Of course, the vampire’s whole being made the hunter feel those same things others felt as well. Yes, they wanted the vampire on top of them. Yes, they wanted to be bitten. Yes, they wanted the vampire.

But they had a job to do. They didn’t have time for games.

“Look. I can make you finish without ever pulling down your pants. And you look like you need it. You haven’t been touched in a long, long time,” the vampire purred. They walked around the hunter’s chair and let their hands slide over their shoulders agonisingly slow. It made their blood rush through their veins. “Aren’t you a poor hunter? So terribly lonely when you slaughter my kind…”

The hunter took in a deep breath. No vampire had ever managed to make them doubt their job. Unfortunately, this vampire had been a friend once.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” the hunter said. It sounded so unreal, actually saying that. Sometimes they really wished this wasn’t their job, so they could be one of those lucky mortals who became lovers of vampires and survived their partners.

God, what a night that would be. The hunter knew they were blushing from the sheer thought of it. The vampire on top of them, kissing their neck, grabbing their flesh, their teeth scraping over their skin…

“Why not? You think about it all the time,” the vampire said. Again, they walked around the hunter’s chair. Now that they were standing in front of the hunter, the hunter realised how intimidating they actually were.

The vampire could surely rip them apart in seconds.

“I do not.”

“Come on. I wanna know what you taste like.” The vampire licked their lips, their tongue even going over their perfect teeth. It was weird how calm they were. How they wanted to fuck the person who was supposed to kill them.

“You’ve had my blood before,“ the hunter said. “You know what I taste like.”

The vampire glared at them.

“I do not.”

Suddenly, the vampire sat down on the hunter’s lap and they started to lick their enemy’s neck patiently. Without thinking about it, the hunter moaned their name and grabbed their hips, desperately trying to control themselves.

“I love your blood though,” the vampire whispered. They started to bite the hunter delicately. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make the hunter’s knees shake. “I can feel it when I’m kissing your skin…it feels so good.”

With too much experience, the vampire’s hand slid down the hunter’s chest and dove into their pants. With a gasp, the hunter looked at their enemy but all they got in return was a teasing smirk and half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t play with me,” the hunter said, begged. “Please.”

“I won’t.” Contrary to the meaning of their words, the vampire reached even deeper into the hunter’s pants where it found much too sensitive skin. Without hesitation, they started touching it, teasing the shaking mess the hunter was by now.

“Please—” The vampire shut them up with a kiss. It was primitive. Possessive. Careless.

The vampire pushed their tongue into the hunter’s mouth as if they had to prove something. As if they had to remind them what they were.

Shaking even more as the vampire bit their lip, the hunter’s mind was already clouded. They’d wanted this for a long time but actually getting it was probably the biggest regret they would ever have in their entire life.

Finally, the vampire pulled away, breathing as heavily as the hunter.

The kiss hadn’t been fair. It had been so unfairly good it would’ve made the hunter angry if they’d been able to think.

“You’re adorable,” they whispered. Then, they put two fingers into the hunter’s mouth, pressing them slightly onto their tongue.

With their other hand, they teased them until they finished.

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____, listen to me.”

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

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

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

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

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

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

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

And snatched it right out of your hands.

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

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

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

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

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

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

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

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

First. Always him as your first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

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

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

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

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

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

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

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

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

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

The ballroom erupted into applause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and him against the world.

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

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

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

Another first, then. 

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

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

“Yes, blondie.”

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

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

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

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

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

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

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

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

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

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

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only offered him a scoff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you say.”

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

“Of course.”

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

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

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

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

“____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke had never apologised for anything.

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

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was amiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he enjoy your writing?

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

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

He then let out a scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

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

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

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

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

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

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

Lust. 

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

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

“What do you mean...lust?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now where is the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence descended upon the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

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

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

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

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

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

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

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

“How about...how about I assist you?”

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

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

“That is true, yes.”

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

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

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

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

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

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

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

“If, of course, you would let me.”

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

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

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

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

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

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

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

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

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

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

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

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

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

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

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

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How you were drenched for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

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

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

You did not need to be told twice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is me keeping my promise.”

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

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

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

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

“Truly divine, you are.”

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

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

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

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

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

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

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

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

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

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

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is nothing you can do, ____.

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

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

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

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

Especially in a bloody library.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons. 

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens. 

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper. 

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library. 

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff. 

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship. 

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame. 

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves. 

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?” 

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability. 

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge. 

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…” 

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant. 

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose. 

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long. 

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force. 

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!” 

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books. 

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library. 

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face. 

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat. 

“Never.” 

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth �� your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back. 

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips. 

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you. 

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal. 

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you. 

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning. 

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.” 

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again. 

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen. 

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits. 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises. 

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression. 

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin. 

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words. 

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was. 

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness. 

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace. 

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp. 

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself. 

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still. 

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare. 

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming. 

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic. 

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves. 

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

 IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT. 

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte. 

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him. 

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion. 

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to. 

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul. 

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further. 

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over. 

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use. 

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered. 

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud. 

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.” 

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him. 

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat. 

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon. 

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets. 

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision. 

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. ��When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?” 

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.” 

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens. 

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far. 

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart. 

 MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom. 

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

[fainee]

Aemond Targaryen x F!Stark! Reader/OC

(this is pretty much more than a reader but i didn't given her name so you can insert whatever you like)

Part 1, Character introduction

Imagine a Stark girl, a daughter of a Cregan sister and Harwin Strong (official kid)

Reader friendly:

- You are like a mix of Daemon and Harwin. A rouge "crazy" lady of House Stark

- Love battle and getting into fight over nothing

- You always stood up for her family, and when the last dinner with Viserys happened and Aemond openly said that Rhaenyra's sons are bastards, she said "My dearest cousin... You shall not be blinded with your judgments. Althought even you could just only see what you want to see" It was petty but you could not let that slide

- Alicent wanted you to marry Aemond but your mother didn't agree.

- You are skilled warrior but not really a player of the game

OC friendly

- She has a scar all across her face, that (in the brave whispers of Jason Lannister) "Does not look attractive at all, and make her face looking like a peasant soldier rather than a Lady"

- She is quite tall, even higher than her twin Harwin (named after his own father). Her height is close to Aemond

- Her hair is black, curly and wild, just like her mother

- She was also known as the "Standing Dragon" after the Dance. Rumors say that she could stand while riding a dragon in the air. (Since she had Targaryen blood in her) But that might be just a rumor

- She swore that she would never marry a man and probably never broken her rule

- She bowed to Rheanera not Aegon

- At the end, she was so in scars that no one was able to recognise her

- To the end of her life she was fighting Aemond Targaryen. People speculate that they were once in love with each other but became enemies

(if you saw English grammar mistakes, please say i want to improve myself)

[kyuuppi]

“You lie to your best friend/crush that you have an OnlyFans just to see their reaction”

Ft. Sugawara; Nishinoya; Tsukishima; Oikawa; Kenma

Pt. 2

A/N: My bias is so obvious here LOL

KARASUNO

↳ Sugawara

➣  You are over at his house, the two of you idly watching a sitcom while browsing your phones and chatting in between; it’s comfortable, as times with Sugawara usually are.

➣  Every time Suga leans in to show you a funny meme on his phone or throws his head back in laughter at a joke from the show, you find your heart skipping a beat.

➣  He is beautiful, basically an angel in your eyes, but he is also your best friend and you don’t think he has any interest in you like that. Not in the way you do. 

➣  That’s how you get the idea to test his feelings. 

➣  Being the troublemaker you are (how else would you and Suga get along so well?) you decide to shake things up by casually mentioning you’re interested in starting an OnlyFans and asking if he thinks its a good idea. 

➣  You expect either of two reactions: either he’ll be as supportive as usual, possibly advising you to be cautious with strangers online like the mother hen he is, proving he only sees you as a friend—or he’ll tell you not to, possible evidence that likes you.

➣  The response you receive is not quite what you were expecting...

➣  Once the words leave your lips his head immediately whips around in your direction, light brown eyes looking at you with a serious expression on his face, something you’d never really seen before. It makes you uncomfortable and you begin to regret all of your life decisions.

➣  Suddenly though, he is leaning into you, his arms coming up to trap you against the couch as you try to back away. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and face completely flushed as he continues to stare you down before speaking.

➣  “Even though I’m your best friend, I’m still a man, you know. You’re being awfully cruel right now.”

➣ You audibly gulp, suddenly feeling light-headed but he keeps speaking, close enough that you can feel his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

➣ “Asking me to watch the person I like show off in front of thousands of other men? Even I have my limits.”

➣ And that marks the day of you and Sugawara’s first kiss. ♡

↳ Nishinoya

➣  Your best friend, Nishinoya Yuu, is notoriously unabashed with his affections. 

➣ The two of you have an interesting relationship—Noya has no qualms with expressing how pretty he thinks you are, borderline flirting with you at times, and you frequently return the favor. 

➣  But you don’t take any of it seriously, of course, regardless of how much you secretly wish it were real. Everyone at Karasuno knows about Noya’s undying dedication to the volleyball club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he confesses his love to her at least twice a day. 

➣ Unbeknownst to you those professions became less and less frequent after he met you and now most of Karasuno thinks the two of you are basically dating

➣ The two of you are at the mall, a frequent hang out place where Noya can look at volleyball gear and you can browse manga at the bookstore, when you get the idea to prank your friend.

➣ “Hey, Noya? I’ve been thinking about finding a way to make more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so I decided to make an OnlyFans—I already have a few subscribers.”

➣ Nishinoya nearly trips and falls flat on his face. You would have laughed if it weren’t for how he immediately grabs at your shoulders, staring at you with a mix of anger and fear. 

➣ “Absolutely not! No one should be allowed to see your beautiful body like that but me!”

➣ You immediately fluster at his loud declaration, acutely aware of how other customers in the mall are giving the two of your strange looks as they walk by. 

➣ “B-but Noya, we aren’t even dating—”

➣ “Then let’s start dating!” 

➣ And what are you gonna do? Say no?

↳ Tsukishima

➣ Being friends with Tsukishima could be frustrating at times—a sentiment you and Yamaguchi frequently discuss when the blond isn’t around. 

➣ Tsukishima likes to think most things are beneath him and he’s too cool to find enjoyment in activities most other friends enjoy, ranging from mini golf to video games. The man seems content to waste his life away studying and listening to music if it weren’t for you and Yamaguchi forcing him out of his room. 

➣ Naturally, something like a prank war would be something Tsukishima would want no part of—not that that has ever stopped you. 

➣ Usually, your pranks are failures. Either Tsukishima easily figures out what you’re doing before it can happen or he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction, chastising you for wasting your time pulling pranks when you have a failing grade in mathematics you’ll later beg him to help you study for.

➣ He still helps you though, he’s whipped

➣ Your newest prank however, you feel exceptionally confident in. Not only is it simple to pull off, only relying on your acting kills, but it also might answer your curiosity on whether you have a chance in getting your dearest Tsukki to see you as more than just a friend.

➣ The day you decide to do it the three of you are hanging out in Tsukishima’s bedroom as usual, you working on the math homework Tsukishima forced you to study while he reads a book and Yamaguchi sits in the corner reading a book.

➣ You had already discussed your plans with Yama beforehand, to which his expression looked suspiciously devious, like he knew something you didn’t know, as he proclaimed his support. 

➣ You hear Tsukishima turning a page and decide to speak up. 

➣ “Hey, Tsukki, have you heard of OnlyFans?”

➣ You hold back a snicker as you see Tsukishima visibly tense, his eyes widening behind his glasses for a moment before he relaxes. From the corner of your eyes you can see Yamaguchi smirking behind his comic, watching the blond closely. 

➣ “...yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Tsukishima simply replies. 

➣ “I’ve been thinking about making more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so my friend suggested it. She said I could make over ten thousand yen a month.”

➣ “I think only the really attractive ones make that much.”

➣ You gasp, thoroughly offended, and Yamaguchi looks mildly annoyed by his friend’s response, already opening his mouth to chastise him for being so mean—but before he can say anything, Tsukishima is speaking again, still looking down at the book in his lap. 

➣ “Don’t do it though.” 

➣ “Why not?” You pout, refusing to look up at him when you speak. 

➣ “...I don’t want the person I like to do those types of things.” 

➣ You nearly choke on your own saliva, head darting up to stare at him in disbelief. Yamaguchi, for some reason, only smiles softly, looking unsurprised by the admission. 

➣ “W-what? You...like me?”

➣ “Oi, shouldn’t you be studying? One more F and you’re gonna flunk out of the class, dummy.”

➣ You’re slightly disappointed by the change of subject but when you notice the soft pink on Tsukishima’s cheeks you can’t help but to smile the whole time you finish your homework.

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣ Oikawa is a busy guy.

➣ You were well aware of that before the two of you happened to be paired up for an assignment and got to know each other, eventually becoming close friends. 

➣ Between volleyball practices, tournaments, magazine interviews, and appeasing a passionate fan club, Oikawa rarely has time for himself, let alone another person. 

➣ Despite all of that, you could tell he always made sure to spend time with you, dedicating a few weekends a month to hanging out, just the two of you, and constantly texting you in the times the two of you couldn’t physically be together. 

➣ From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost like the two of you were dating. 

➣ But alas, you know the sad reality is that Oikawa is most certainly not your boyfriend and you have no idea if he has any interest in your like that…

➣ ...Which is why you decide to try to make him jealous one day to push him towards confessing his feelings, if they exist. 

➣ The two of you are at a café, sipping lattes and gossiping about other students when you bring it up. 

➣ “Y’know...I’ve been thinking of making an OnlyFans.”

➣ To your surprise, Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up, his lips curving into a smile of excitement. 

➣ “Wow, really? Maybe I should make one too!”

➣ Oikawa immediately pulls out his cell phone and the color drains from your face as you realize your plan has completely backfired. 

➣ “My fans are going to love this—hey do you think we can do a collab? The two of us in one pic would make us top creators for sure.”

➣ You can only nod numbly with a fake smile at Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

➣ Oh god, you’ve created a monster…

NEKOMA

↳ Kozume

➣ Unless you’re Kuroo, becoming friends with Kenma is a nearly impossible feat. Actually making him want to spend time with you alone, even more so. 

➣ But somehow, you managed to work your way into Kenma’s tightly knit social circle more like a two point line segment of him and Kuroo and your evenings after his volleyball practice are usually spent in one of your bedrooms, playing Splatoon and Animal Crossing until your Switches die or your parents force you to come home for dinner—whichever comes first. 

➣ You love spending time with Kenma, his quiet presence somehow making you feel comfortable—but over time those feelings of ease have shifted into something more akin to nervousness and excitement as you’ve come to develop a crush on the setter.

➣ Every moment with him, watching the small smiles tug at his lips when he wins a match or his cute, frustrated pout when he can’t figure out how to defeat a boss makes your heart flutter and it’s becoming more and more painful to idly sit by without expressing your feelings.

➣ A direct confession, especially to a boy with nearly 0 social skills, is scary, so you want to be sure your feelings are returned before you even attempt to share them. 

➣ Thus, you’ve decided to take Kuroo’s advice.

➣ “Push him into a corner. Kenma will only act when he thinks he has to.” 

➣ You take a deep breath to steel your nerves before you speak, eying him sneakily from behind your Switch. 

➣ “Gamer girls and boys are kind of trendy these days; I’m thinking about starting an OnlyFans to make money to buy more games.”

➣ The only visible response you receive is a slow blink as Kenma continues to play his game, fingers tapping furiously on the keys. 

➣ “Ah...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

➣ “Why not?”

➣ There are a few moments of silence between you two, the room only filled with the SFX of your games as Kenma seems to finish his round. You recognize the victory music as Kenma pauses to finally raise his gaze to meet your own. 

➣ “It's your body so I can’t tell you what to do but...I would feel really jealous of all your subscribers.”

➣ And just like that, Kenma returns his attention to the video game, unpausing and starting a new match, blissfully unaware of you struggling to calm your racing heart and flushed cheeks. 

[obsessive-ego]

Just go with it part 2

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You have to meet juno and pretend you and bj are getting married

Nsft sorta, mentions of activity

Part 1

"Babes"

....

"Sugar"

...

"Y/n"

...?

"Y/n wake up, come on babes"

...!

"Beej?" You mumble rubbing your eyes "what's wrong?" You say in a whisper.

He doesnt respond, you turn on the lamp by your bed and check your phone clock

5:42am

You sigh, looking back at the demon, now being able to see him clearly, you freeze upon seeing that the demon was now completely purple, his hair, his beard, his tie, all deep purple.

"What's wrong?" You ask again, more fear in you voice then intended

"Okay y/n" he starts, using your name rather then a pet name was never a good sign "so you remember a few nights ago when that suit came by to see if I was lying about our relationship?"

"He's back?!" You sit up, more awake "wait... wasnt the repercussion to that not that bad? Just some extra work for you?"

Beetlejuice rubs his neck "yeah, thing about that, it's not him... my mother is here, to talk to you personally..." he trails off refusing to look at you

"Your mother...." you repeat feeling your stomach drop

"Yeah..."

"What's gonna happen if she finds us out?" You ask in a whisper

"...who knows with her" the demon spits before looking away.

The two of you remain in silence over the shit beetlejuice has gotten you into it.

Beetlejuice huffs out his nose as his focus goes back to you.

"So y/n, I mean honey~" the demon pulls you up from your bed and into a side hug "ready to meet mommy dearest?" Beetlejuice tried to smile, make light of the situation, but his hair betrayed him, remaining a deep purple, even though he tried his best to plaster a grin across his face for your sake.

You didnt know much about Beetlejuice's mother, other then she didnt exactly win mother of the year, beej only opened up about her a handful of times, long story short, you knew this was gonna be a rough experience for both of you, but mostly Beej.

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders, pulling the same ring he gave you to fool the suit, the same tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, your heart swelled at the sight of the ring.

The ghoul drops on one knee, and gently slides the ring onto your middle finger, pausing to kiss your hand before giving you wink, under different circumstances you would die from such a cheesy romantic gesture, but now was not that time, you did appreciate beetlejuice trying to lighten the mood.

"Alright honey, you remember the drill?"

"Yes"

"That's my future wife, let's not keep the bitch waiting" he smiles linking arms with you

Future wife...

You couldnt help but give the ghoul a soft smile at the thought.

Beetlejuice takes a deep breath, smoothing his hair back, wiping the purple away in favour of his default green.

The demon grabs your hand begins to lead you to your living room, you could barely focus over the sound of your heart pounding, who could blame you, you were about to come face to face with someone Beetlejuice was afraid of.

As the two of you head down the hall , she was finally in sight, you felt your stomach drop, in your recliner sat an old woman, dressed completely in red, she had a permanent scowl across her face, her whole presence give off a bad feeling.

"Lawrence, you took your sweet time fetching your fiance" she barked causing beetlejuice to flinch

"Ya know breathers, they like their sleep-" he forces a laugh, purple slowly creeping back into his hair

"Nonsense, it's nearly 6am, that's more then a reasonable time for breathers to wake and start their pointless routines" she waves off, beetlejuice frowns and leads you to the couch, where the both of you sit.

"Its been awhile huh Ma? Like I was saying earlier, it's nice to see you again and-" beetlejuice was babbling

"Zip it" was all she said and beetlejuice clamped his mouth shut and gazed down staring at his feet. "Lawrence, I didnt come here for pointless pleasantries" her eyes meet yours "y/n l/n I dont know what Lawrence has done to you or promised you, but I can assure you he doesnt care about you, and just wants freedom, further more Lawrence, do you honestly think this breather could love you? This game of yours needs to come to an end, there is alot of paper work tied up in this farce of yours"

You were taken back by her words, she really didn't beat around the bush.

"I dont-" you start, voice trembling

"Ma, y/n loves me and I love them, see~" beetlejuice grabs your hand to show his mother the ring, she eyes the ring for a moment, then goes bad to staring daggers into her son, her scowl never faltering.

"Tacky" she huffs, a simple response like that was enough to shut her son down, beetlejuice pulled away from you, pressing his back firm against the couch, lips pressed shut and hands clamped together in his lap.

"As I was saying, Lawrence is a natural born troublemaker, and youd be smart to back out of this farce before he gains life, knocks you up with a life ruining disappointment, and vanishes from your life" she droned as she lights a cigarette, taking a deep inhale, smoke shooting out from her neck.

You swallow hard.

"I would prefer if you didnt smoke in my house, ma'am"

Juno stares at you for a moment, then shakes her head as she puts out her cigarette on your coffee table.

"Ma'am I really do trust beetlejuice, and I love him, this isnt a farce-" you began, but your words were ignored

"If you want to throw yourself into a mess, I wont stop you, I'm not here to save you, but I have to applaud his efforts on tricking someone LEGAL this time for his little game. Even though this mess of yours is going to keep him out of my way for awhile, it doesn't cover the fact that Lawrence's efforts have caused my office nothing but work. And even if this "love" was real the boy ruins everything thing he touches, cant do anything right, having him around only causes headaches, you'll see soon enough y/n," Juno's hurtful words drone on, as if her son wasnt sitting across the table from her.

"Back to the matter, even if you do choose to marry this fool, I wanted to warn you about the mess your getting yourself into, giving him life would only cause you grief, and I dont want to hear it when you get to the netherworld after a suicide his actions caused"

You grit your teeth at that last remark, you knew juno thought poorly of beetlejuice, but did she honestly thing her son was so awful that youd kill yourself over his actions, you felt like you were going to be sick.

"Lawrence, why is your hair purple?"

You glance over to beetlejuice, who infact was completely purple, the deepest purple you've ever seen him wear.

Beetlejuice bites down on his lip, his hands clenched in fists as they sat on his thighs, he was frozen.

"Bee?" You gently whisper as you slowly place a hand on his, the ghoul flinches at your touch, beetlejuice slowly takes your hand in his and gives it a light squeeze.

"Come on Ma, y/n my be dramatic, and get mad at me from time to time, but they'd never kill themselves over anything dumb I'd do, and hell we already talked it over, we dont want kids" the ghoul leans into you for support.

Juno scowls "to remind you both, I'm not here to stop you two, the only thing I'm here for is to warn this foolish breather, and double check to make sure YOU arent mucking about and blackmailing the living again, there is a lot of paper work involved in this little game of yours, and you still havent delt with the paper work of your failed marriage and death by the hands of that poor child you tricked" her eyes narrow down to beetlejuice, juno pauses, then sighs

"Lawrence just come clean, this little game of yours has gone on long enough, even if you didnt blackmail this poor soul into marrying you, do you honestly think they love you? You dont actually think this breather wants you around do you?"

"That's not true, I do-"

You werent able to finish that sentence, with a snap of juno's fingers your mouth is now cover with a strip of duct tape.

"You've honestly fooled yourself into thinking you could be loved didnt you? Pitiful, maybe this breather found you amusing now, but you dont think it's going to last do you?" Her questioning goes on, she was convinced her son was unlovable, you tug away at the duct tape but it refuses to budge, beetlejuice was too focused on his mother's words, to the point where he was starting to believe her, the purple slowly faded from him in favour of white, a color you've never seen on him.

"Lawrence you're little game is over, and you're going to clean up the mess you made, I have a decade's worth of paper work for you to fill out over this farce and every other little issue you caused, I knew from the start this was fake, no living person in their right mind would let you into their life willingly"

A decade's worth of paper work?! Was that so important that she was willing to manipulate her own son into thinking he was worthless?

"Lawrence you are such a screw up, the amount of work your little games keep giving me is coming to an end, you will never be alive, you will never be loved, let alone tolerated, and you are coming back to my office to straighten up ever little issue you have caused, if you think being invisible for a millennia is bad-" she raises her voice with each hateful word.

This duct tape wasnt going to budge, so you went with plan B, you roughly bump into the demon's side to get his attention, beetlejuice looking your way, your eyes grow wide at his expression, he was crying, black gooey tears. The two of you stare at each other what felt like an eternity, Juno's voice no longer reached him, beetlejuice snaps his fingers and the duct tape vanishes from your mouth.

You jump up from you position on the couch "I'm sorry ma'am  but bee- Lawrence isnt worthless, and yes, he can be an ass, and insensitive at times, but I love him and I really do want to marry him! And whatever stupid paper work that is tied up in this, can just fuck off..." your voice tweaks as the ghoulish women sitting across from you stands up, eyes dead set on you.

You werent great with confrontation, and beej knew this, but here you were talking back to his mother, you  his tiny sweet breather talking back to a literal monster. The white from Beetlejuice's hair quickly left in replacement to pink 'I really do want to marry him!' Those words from your lips could have made his heart start beating , tho that was shortly lived when he saw this mother stand, purple took hold of his form once again.

He couldnt let you fight his mistakes alone, though he found it hot that you could be his knight in shining armor.

No, beetlejuice is quick to jump up and link his arm with yours "see ma, this little breather stole my heart, and hell, we've been planning our little wedding for months" beetlejuice snaps his fingers and in a flash his and yours clothes change. Beetlejuice wore a red tux made with crushed velvet, with a lacy front, his whole outfit screamed tacky, but that was him. Looking down at your self, you stifle a laugh, here you were, 6:30am, dressed in a red puffy lacing monster of a dress, in all honesty this wouldnt be your first choice, but now was not that time. Beetlejuice pulls you close, you could swear he could hear how hard your heart was pounding, could you blame yourself? He looked so handsome all dressed up, even if this was fake.

"My, my Lawrence, doesnt that dress look familiar, isnt that the dress you forced that poor child to wear the last time you played this game?" his mother sneers

"Its called a call back, and y/n loves it" he sneers back you nodded in agreement, beetlejuice continues "we're still working on a venue, trying to find a band, believe me, planning a wedding is exhausting, and oh! dont be surprised if your invite gets lost in the mail ma" the demon gives a shit eating grin, you smile seeing beetlejuice has gained SOME confidence back.

"I have no interest in attending your little wedding Lawrence" she spat "it's clear you're not going to budge, and still refusing to take responsibility for your actions, you always were a slacker, and if that's the case, once you die again you will be returning to my office to deal with the mess you made" her focus turns to you "or I could end this little charade by killing your ticket to life"

Your heart stops at her words, she was a demon, Beetlejuice's grip tightens on you, the silence must have been hurting him as much as it did you.

"But I wont, itd be too much a hassle ending a life before it's time"

You sigh in relief, and beetlejuice loosens his grip.

"This will end poorly for the two of you, and I dont want to hear it" juno walks past the two of you, and with a gesture of her hand the livingroom wall opens up to reveal an office full of the dead.

"Lawrence before you join the living I need to deal with one last errand, so I will see you later, and you" Juno's boney finger points to you "you have no idea what you've signed up for" and with that she was gone, the wall closes up as if nothing happened, the two of you collapse on the floor

"Shes gone" you sigh, you've never been more scared in you entire life then you were talking to Juno

"So you like your future mother in law?" Beej jabs you side

"Oh yeah, a delight" you snort, "how long do you think we have before she notices we havent gotten married?" You tone shifts to a more serious note

"No clue, guess you'll actually need to marry me now" he pulls you into a side hug

"What?" You stammer, beetlejuice laughs at your response

"HA! Just pulling your chain there doll, theres no way in hell she's coming back to check, if I know that Bitch shes going to file away those papers for me, there's no way she'll let them just sit there for who knows how long, and this time next week she'll be harping about something else" beetlejuice stands up and pulls you up with him as he sees you struggling to move in that dress, as you raise to your feet you mumble a thanks.

"You know beej, you really do clean up good, I mean, you look very handsome all dressed up" you smile, now that that two of you were safe, you felt it was the right time to say it.

The purple in the ghoul's hair quickly vanishes at your kind words and is replaced with pink.

"Well you know doll, the tux suits me, but it looks even better on the floor, you'll see on our honeymoon~"

"Is that so?"

"Dont believe me? I'll show ya right now baby~" the ghoul pulls you close pressing his chest against yours, as fun as this little exchange was it came to a halt when you yawned.

"What a way to start a weekend, early and terrified, I think I'm gonna get a few more hours of sleep" you grumbled rubbing your eye "you mind helping me out of this dress?" Beetlejuice goes wide eyed at your question, in a flash his hands were groping for the zipper on your back.

"Naughty minx" he purrs before you swat his hands away

"I ment with magic" you breath out, you may be tired, but your genitals were now wide awake.

Beetlejuice grumbles as he snaps his fingers bringing you back into your pajamas and him in his suit.

"Thank you, I guess this wouldnt be good night, see you in a bit" you shrug as you head to your bedroom to get a few more hours of sleep, you glance back at beetlejuice, who was purple once again, you frown

"Beej do you want to sleep with me? I mean you dont need to sleep, I just thought maybe, you wouldnt want to be alone right now?" After seeing his mother maybe he could use some comfort.

There was a long silence as the demon only stares back at you, you panic

"I'm sorry, that was stupid, I'll just, uh, see you in-" you babble as you spin in your heels eager to get away from this embarrassing situation. Before you could hide away in your bedroom you feel the dicey grip if the demon's hand on your shoulder, and in a deep gravely voice he purrs

"Isn't it normal for a husband and wife to sleep together?~" 

you honestly felt a shiver run up your spine.

The ghoul, now only in a pair of boxers has now cuddled up to you  his legs intertwined with yours, his arms wrapped around your waist, hand rubbing up and down your back, and head nuzzled into your chest, the demon now pink, purred feeling your hands scratching his scalp, his mother was wrong, you did love him, truly and unconditionally, maybe not now, but soon, he will marry you.

Bonus

It's been days since you met his mother, and it seems like beetlejuice has been back to stop caring about it, but sometimes you see him just staring off into space.

The ghoul had only one thing on his mind, replaying the memory over and over, of you shouting "I REALLY DO WANT TO MARRY HIM!"