#he finally settles for ‘you are the object of all my desires’

[coolpointsetta]

my boyfriend is mad i haven’t responded to his insta post. like hang on a second babe im trying to figure out how to spell ‘gorgeous’

wally

[malleleothreesome]

Blindfolded Malleus

💚 summary: You edge Malleus while he's blindfolded ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: gender neutral reader, you go to TOWN on those horns of his, brief mention of Malleus wanting to breed you, blowjob, penis in [gender neutral hole] sex, creampie ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 6.6k words ༶༶༶ 💚 inspired by: @creepysun-cpsunnhild's ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

Malleus sits patiently on his bed, hands clasped on his lap, buzzing with nervous excitement as he waits for you to join him. He is already stripped down to only his boxers, eager to begin the night's festivities.

"Are you nervous?" you ask him as you rummage around in your backpack before finally pulling out a silky black blindfold purchased from the secret backroom of Sam's shop.

Malleus blinks, mouth parting slightly in the way he does when surprised, "A little? This is rather... novel for me." His lips fall into a pout. "Being unable to see your face is strange. I won't get to enjoy your expression as you pleasure me..."

You zip up your backpack and saunter over to his bed where Malleus waits, boxers tented around the evidence that he is looking forward to this, despite his apprehensions. You flash him a mischievous smile as you crawl over to him on the bed, settling in a straddle across his thighs. "That will just force you to be more sensitive to my touch," you coo as you cup his soft, milky cheek in your hand, admiring the complete beauty of his face for a final moment before you blindfold him. As he returns your loving gaze, his slitted pupils start to widen from desire and you watch in awe as his verdant irises are completely swallowed by inky pools of hunger. “I promise you won't even miss my face in the heat of the moment,” you try to reassure him.

He scoffs before murmuring in a low, smoky voice, "You know me far better than that, child of man." And yet, despite his objections, he obediently tilts his chin down, lowering his lashes as he allows you to place the black silk over his face. Malleus inhales sharply as the light suddenly dims to complete darkness. He stills like a startled creature of the forest as his sight leaves him, his muscles tense and his eyelids twitch under the silk as he comes to terms with his new vulnerability. You stop straddling him, denying him the comforting warmth of your thighs against his as you crouch on your knees beside him. He growls as you refuse to indulge his lust, remaining perfectly still as he struggles to find his bearings. You want him to simmer with arousal before you ease his longing—a little frustration will make his eventual orgasm that much more satisfying.

His innate magical ability attempts to compensate for the obscuration of his eyes by granting him heightened senses that would guide him in a perilous situation. He finds himself hyper aware of the beating of your heart and the slow rhythmic cadence of your breathing. The tension between your still bodies grows palpable. Your heartbeats thrum synchronically with the silent yearning of two lovers desperate to press skin against skin. Malleus is so ethereally beautiful, your heart can’t help but leap every time you look at him. The black silk shrouding his vision only serves to emphasize the handsome cut of his jaw and his sharp, seductive lips, parted in breathless anticipation. The glossy fabric paints a dark tapestry against the snowy hues of his skin. A lock of his viridian hair slips along his forehead in a way that accentuates the graceful curve of his brow. Every fiber of his being drips with all the charms of an otherworldly prince, an untouchable enigma that transcends mortal understanding. Yet he sits there, completely bared to you, stripped of his power, a masterpiece defaced by a veil of cloth; a prize awaiting the taking.

Despite his lack of sight, he can feel your gaze on him like a physical caress, causing goosebumps to sprout across his alabaster skin and his ears and cheeks to bloom a flustered rose-red. He knows you are simply teasing him, but the sensation of being denied his favorite view of his beloved is utterly infuriating. Yet, something about being without your gaze stirs the desire within him. When your lovemaking has reached its peak in the past, the sight of your flushed cheeks and blissed out expression has made his blood run hot and has left him in the throes of the most pleasurable high. Not being able to gaze upon you will allow him to focus his whole being upon the ecstasy he feels every time he is brought to climax. This denial will amplify the sensations he will feel in the midst of passion and he finds himself anxiously anticipating how overwhelming those emotions might be. His cock grows harder and twitches excitedly at the thought and he bites his lip to contain the groans of arousal rising up in the back of his throat. Your proximity, despite him being unable to see your form, is positively maddening. Now that sight is taken away, the darkness is acting like an aphrodisiac. He wants nothing more than to lose himself to desire, touch, scent, and sound—to bring both of your hearts racing and be subsumed in an orgasmic trance. And so, the anticipation of the evening ahead courses through Malleus' body in electric tremors, setting his soul on fire. For someone with the lifespan of a fae, a moment is but a speck of sand on a shore, yet every minute you make him wait seems to drag into torturous eternity. He wants—no, he craves to take you and bask in the throes of passionate euphoria... Yet, he sits there, at the mercy of you and the unfolding events.

His growing sexual frustration sends a surge of wicked mischief through your blood as you crouch on the plush duvet alongside him. Malleus feels the bed shift and your body moving ever closer, then the caress of your hot breath tickling against his neck, near his sensitive ears, just a whisper away. He shudders deliciously as the phantom sensation of your moist, parted lips nears his bare shoulder, sending a chill through his entire body that culminates in a tingling tightness that pulses through his dick, which has reached full mast and throbs painfully in his boxers. Just as he is beginning to move his mouth to admonish you for such cruel teasing, his body suddenly jerks in surprise as he is overcome by the wet and gentle pressure of your mouth suckling ever so gently against his sensitive nape, right in that one spot, the one you know makes his knees turn to jelly. Malleus can't help the startled gasp that falls from his mouth as his body surrenders entirely, arching slightly at the pleasurable sensation, head lulling back just a little. He shivers as your palms ghost across his bare chest in a featherlight graze, sighing as his muscles are soothed by the balmy smoothness of your hands. You seem intent on teasing his neck—tugging, suckling, kissing, licking—and the teasing wet heat and gentle suction against his throat drives him to near delirium. The muscles of his neck tense as he gulps down heavy breaths, and you revel in the sound of him fighting desperately to contain his lust, your mouth quirking up into a smirk against his throat. His head leans back further to grant you more access to his soft flesh, and he resists the urge to stroke himself, biting his lower lip as your kisses start to descend along his pectorals, your tongue teasing at a hardened nipple before continuing to worship him down his abdominal muscles to the dip of his hips and eventually stopping just short of where he really wants it. Malleus is panting, almost as if in time with his throbbing member as it demands attention, yet your fingers remain above the waistband, tempting him.

"Keep going," he commands quietly, craving more than your hesitant brushes, his heart quickening at the sound of your own racing pulse. You have found a delicious torment in delaying him, and his inability to see your next move has caused his whole body to come alive. Malleus bites his lower lip harder, nearly breaking skin to maintain his self control as your fingertips barely push at the elastic band of his underwear, your nails only teasing the thin trail of hair below his navel. The tiniest contact is overwhelming on his skin, leaving a blazing trail in the wake of the featherlight touch, and a trembling warmth deep within him as his desire crescendos. Every part of him is suddenly alert, drinking up the ambiance, the muffled silence only adding an ethereal atmosphere of mystique to his hazy world of arousal and delight. "My love, please give me more," he begs. The strained edge in his voice stirs the rising excitement within you and your core aches at his ardent need. A little hitch in your breath catches his attention. Without the ability to watch your expressions, his sharp ears have begun to strain to hear every indication of arousal from you.

A bratty whine escapes Malleus' pouting lips as you completely withdraw your hands, body heat disappearing as you leave him exposed. The void of your warmth leaves him cold, an abyss to match his own darkness, yet he is lost for words as your mouth finds his erect cock through the fabric of his boxers, swallowing his bulge, the friction of your dampened tongue against him shooting straight to his balls. Your saliva bleeds through the cloth in a thick stain as you use your mouth to slowly torture him, knowing this is driving him insane. A jumble of pants and unintelligible phrases fall from the normally reserved Malleus' mouth and his hands fist themselves in the bedsheets, threatening to rip them in his pent-up ecstasy, knuckles stark white in strain as he groans. Your relentless hot and wet pressure on his erection is turning him into a salacious mess, but it's not nearly enough—he's desperate to feel your skin and a feral growl rattles around in his throat. His instinctive need to seize control of the situation becomes clouded in the heady fog of the erotic pleasure that your touches instill within him, a thrall he's unfamiliar with but too far gone to resist. When he thinks he can't stand the sweetly agonizing tease any longer, your lips pull away, leaving him wanting for your moist, breathy heat to return to him. Malleus whines piteously, squirming in place in silent desperation, fists tightly balled.

Your heart soars when you hear him making these vulnerable little noises of absolute submission to his craving for your body—as much as you know his primal urges are telling him to toss you onto his lap and take you, his dedication to your sadistic game prevents his true lusts from prevailing. He wants to ravage you, to gorge himself on your flesh as you scream his name into his pillows, to bite down on the crook of your neck when he's plunging deep within your hot, aching depth. Instead, he endures his cock's ceaseless torment.

As you contemplate your next course of action, your eyes settle on the enigmatic vestigial holdover from his ancestors—his horns. Growing directly from his skull and twisting in two thick curves adorned with glowing flecks of opulent teal, they frame his beautiful visage with an unmistakable air of eerie mystique. Intrigued by the sharp, slender peaks, you straddle Malleus' lap once again, his aching need nudging up against your clothed sex and making him groan from the limited pleasure he finally receives. He never eluded to any sensuality about the pointed projections adoring his head, but your curious lust can't help but wonder if they're erogenous. It certainly wouldn't surprise you if the fearsome protrusions were a weakness for your beautiful and powerful lover. If they could invoke in him a tantalizing rush of decadent sensation, they would surely aid you in his titillation. His previous words of caution ring in your mind—"You're welcome to touch them… though I can't guarantee what would happen to you if you did."—yet your perversion yearns to test out your theory.

You slowly lean your bodyweight towards his head until he feels you looming over him, your body's warmth fanning over his face and giving a comforting presence to his empty, disoriented world. The hint of a smirk curls at the corner of his lips as he begins to tilt his face, wrongfully expecting a kiss. Malleus had suspected your lusts would soon get the better of you and would ultimately yield him the rapture he seeks. You don't even notice the way his mouth opens slightly, wet, plush lips eagerly awaiting yours. The air between you two is electric with a smoldering, simmering need, threatening to spark into something raging. However, you swerve his inviting kiss, instead placing both your hands firmly against each horn, beginning a gentle massage on the cool bone. You can’t help but grin in prideful victory when a yelp falls from Malleus' lips and he bucks upwards, his hips suddenly snapping with wild impulse in a carnal attempt to sheathe his engorged cock within the beckoning warmth of your tight hole. Malleus' shocked gasp shifts into a guttural, feral sound. His blood is filled with electricity and lust, the lewd sounds emanating from deep within him like a forbidden spell of obscene delight.

The rumble of his inhuman grumble rolls through his entire chest, and the vibration of the low, loud noise goes straight to your throbbing sex. His reaction to you is deliciously intense, and you begin to twist and rub your thumb and index finger around the ridges of the horns, tracing the shapes and sending tiny shivers down Malleus' spine. You watch him, holding your breath in captivated awe as his upper lip lifts into a snarl and his bottom lip falls, allowing another dirty, draconic growl to spill out. The blackness of his vision leaves his mind no choice but to sink deeper into carnal euphoria, his mouth hanging agape and eyes rolling behind his blindfold, the pale skin of his cheeks becoming flushed as he drowns in the overwhelming sensations that consume him entirely. You run your fingernail up and down the sides of his horns simultaneously with a tantalizing tickle, and Malleus' head jerks in your grasp, neck muscles tense with shock from how amazingly sensitive this area of him is. With a naughty grin you plant a messy, wet kiss on one horn, then drag your teeth along the slick surface while your fingers begin a slow, erotic massage where the base of his horn meets the tender skin of his scalp. A downright depraved string of nonsensical, fragmented curses of ecstasy tumble from Malleus' throat. As his primal urge to breed overrides any common sense, the harsh sting of claws dig into the delicate skin of your forearms.

Your caress on his horns is like having the tips of every nerve of his being stimulated at once. His hips start thrusting almost automatically, as though his brain no longer commands him with any sort of reason. His desires take full control, acting on instinct to rut against anything and everything, and a hot ache ripples through his nether regions. The undergarment that traps him from absolute nirvana becomes uncomfortably tight, as his manhood pushes the limits of what the cotton material can bear. A damp and translucent stain of precum has bled through onto the fabric. His mind is swirling with a heady cocktail of lust, love, and urgency—the absence of sight heightening every aspect, every molecule of physical joy, creating a searing, constant arousal deep within him. At last, you have coaxed your regal Prince to reach a whole new state of passion.

You can feel yourself becoming more aroused with each erotic sound you draw from Malleus' throat, as your love for him is mixed with your innate masochism to torture and tease, causing a molten heat to blossom within you. Unable to deny him any longer, you let your lips fall to his mouth and Malleus eagerly reciprocates without hesitation, the heat between the two of you almost unbearable. Teeth clash as he hungrily devours your lips and his arms fly to pull you close so he may sink himself into your flesh and keep you for an eternity, one arm slipping to your lower back and pressing you towards him, his other hand weaving itself through your soft locks. This is what Malleus longed for: the warmth, the wetness, and the sinful slide of your tongue against his. His heart is set ablaze as you grip onto his face, cradling the beloved contours in an almost desperate plea to be as near him as possible, wanting to hold your lover to your body until he melts within you. His deep, sonorous moans of lecherous longing resonate throughout your whole body, echoing in the cavern of your very soul until it makes your heart weep with an overwhelming love and passion. You realize now, more than ever, how dear this fae Prince is to you, how absolutely crucial he has become for your every living moment. As Malleus hungrily chases every ounce of physical sensation he can achieve through the one person that matters the most to him, he feels the exact same love and desperation well in him and pour into his kiss, transmitting his emotions back to you. The blindfold begins to dampen from his overflowing tears as the magnitude of your passion for him stirs a surge of affection and desire that nearly rips his beating heart out of his chest. He clutches you ever closer as a small sob rises up, overcome by his love for the beguiling little mortal whose unconditional acceptance and magical charms have entranced him since day one. You drink up his ardent devotion like a life-sustaining elixir.

Eventually, you break the kiss with a moan and slide off his body, and he mourns your warmth against him, a lonely tear absorbing into the silk. Malleus cannot contain a whimper, as his blood pulses so fiercely, a carnal and primal drive floods his being. It is beyond lust, beyond physical desire—you have reignited the very core of who he is as an eternal, draconic prince and have reminded him of the fire that beats within his breast. His body aches and throbs in equal amounts sexual and emotional passion, his need to release so intense that his breaths come in short, quick pants. His muscles spasm uncontrollably from the sensations running rampant in every extremity, and he sobs with pent-up desire, clawing at the duvet as though it would relieve the ceaseless, tortuous pressure that plagues him. His heart yearns, yet his libido aches, the girth of his dick straining against his waistband like a caged animal desperate to break free from its bindings and let the true beast emerge.

A relieved sigh escapes him when, a moment later, your cool, soft hands dip below the elastic of his boxers and gently slide them down and off. His erect cock slaps against his stomach, weeping pearls of precum and glistening from the prolonged sexual torture of the evening, standing at full attention. Its girthy length twitches with impatience. One teasing fingertip just barely grazes its tip, gathering the beads of lust and dragging them along his length. A strained yelp forces its way out of Malleus' parched and trembling lips, and his whole body tenses, toes curling. The sheets are being pulled in the violent vice grip of his fists, the sheer force of his magical grip threatening to rip them in half. You begin to languidly trace along his shaft at a tantalizingly slow and soft pace, driving him out of his mind. It's barely enough contact to get any satisfaction, yet far more than enough to make him jolt at the blissful sparks that you ignite within him. You ghost your breath across the length, blowing air on his heated flesh as a paltry reward to Malleus' plight. He cries your name in a pitchy, agonized tone as your hands pull away and he tries not to sob with frustration at the lack of touch. Before he can complain, a new, torturous sensation wracks his frame: the phantasmagoric feeling of soft, pillowy lips dragging against the tip of his shaft, eliciting a filthy whine and a throaty gasp. He feels more wet heat around his sensitive glans as your tongue bathes the area with hot saliva, savoring the briny taste of his essence, then leaving him abruptly. You're far too much of a tease, giving him just a sample before pulling away. His balls feel painfully swollen as he reaches his limit and his member seizes with another sharp throb of arousal.

And then, with a wet squelch, the heat of your mouth descends onto the entirety of his rock-hard erection, taking him all in to the hilt. Your cheeks hallow to create suction as your tongue swirls around his engorged tip and your throat relaxes as his length is buried down your throat, holding your breath and stifling your gag reflex for a brief moment before bobbing your head up and down, fucking his hard dick with your mouth and salivating profusely over his thick length. The sweetly sinful sensation of his throbbing erection buried deep down your esophagus causes his mind to shut off, his brain short-circuiting from the intensity of pleasure. Your talented tongue swirls and twirls around the mushroom tip while your hands massage up and down along his shaft, working his flesh in synchronous harmony, threatening to break him down into a quivering mess under the expertise of your skilled mouth. It's absolutely obscene, how willingly your jaw hangs wide for him, how you guzzle up every inch of his thick cock as though he's the best meal of your life.

Now that you have him back where you want him, you take your time torturing him by switching your rhythm every time his groans begin to sound too desperate, denying him the relief his poor aching cock so desperately craves. You gently guide his shaft upright with a tug of your hand, angling his thick cock directly into your mouth and ensuring you completely envelop his tip in your throat. Every time you hollow your cheeks and move his throbbing erection in and out of your mouth at a vigorous pace, Malleus is unable to hold his voice back. He tosses his head back, letting your tongue lavish the underside of his cock. The velvety heat of your tongue sweeps from the base all the way to his glans, lapping across his slit before wrapping your lips around his thick girth again. Your tongue meticulously teases and suckles on his sweet spots, knowing that because of his loss of vision he is acutely aware of every change in pressure, every shift in the path of your tongue, and every powerful stroke of your hand. You have successfully reduced the unshakeable Prince of Thorns into a mess of low moans and ragged, staccato breaths. Your name comes out in pleading pants, like he's calling to you to take his seed and give him the relief he desires so desperately. Your sucking and swirling heat pulls Malleus' balls up closer, tight and ready, his member starting to spasm as his end rushes ever nearer.

"Dearest..." Malleus murmurs as softly as possible, shuddering as pleasure lances through him like lightning, barely audible above the squelches and wet smacks, his hips bucking frantically now, "I beg of you... Please, do not be cruel. I cannot—please." You know how sensitive he is to touch, his every nerve is so over stimulated, and his blindness is making everything hit a whole new level.

"That's enough—hnnnng. This is far too much for me to handle... You're truly evil for using my body like this—oh, do not stop—" A litany of indecencies flow forth in an increasingly erratic rhythm to accompany the melodious cadence of his dulcet moans. Every time you push his length down your throat, he thinks you've given up playing around and finally decided to let him spill his hot load, only for you to relent at the last second and reduce your fervency. He curses your name, promising retaliation later in the form of the most passionate fucking of your entire life. The cruel torture begins anew with a playful kiss on his tip or a lewd slurp at the base of his cock as your hands fondle and caress him. It is almost inhuman the level of control his child of man has to be able to push him close to the edge and retreat with surgical precision, again and again, leaving him in complete anguish.

The hard tip of his cock slams the back of your throat, threatening to suffocate your breath and sending a deluge of saliva trickling down his swollen balls and slickening your lips. He cannot suppress the rough and rapid snapping of his hips against you, plunging his penis to the very end, every lunge making you gag. When you swallow and clench your throat around his length, Malleus' breaths dissolve into frantic wheezes, his chest heaving, unable to even finish his sentence before his lungs are sucked empty in ecstasy. Your hands cup the heavy, weighted balls beneath, fingers and nails digging in slightly before gripping onto his ass as you swallow around his entire girth, pumping his dick in rhythm with his thrusts as if to milk him and show no mercy. Your muffled squeals of encouragement spur Malleus on, the sounds you're making giving him permission to use your mouth like his own personal fuck-toy, his own filthy fantasy. His eyes squeeze shut behind the blindfold as the red, pulsing void suddenly fills with the vivid memory of the look on your face the last time he pounded your face so mercilessly, that wonderful face all covered in his seed, cheeks dripping with his creamy splatter. He moans brokenly as his fantasies meld with reality in the blinding darkness. The sheer act of being able to fully appreciate and wallow in the sense of absolute decadent delight his beloved grants him, as well as your own enthusiasm for him—all these sensations surge forth in a mighty torrent. Malleus knows you're preparing to build him up to a devastating peak of passion.

With a firm yet gentle grip, you dig the tips of your fingers into the ample flesh of your lover's thighs, feeling their toned rippling as you keep him in place. Your fingernails sink a little, creating faint, red trails in your wake, marking Malleus' flawless skin as evidence of your claim over his body. Without warning, his hard length slips out of your wet lips with an obscene pop, and the fae Prince whimpers once more from the cold drafts of the dorm room settling over his sopping, saliva-coated member. 

Before he has any time to register the shock of the loss, the bedsheets shift again under your movements as you swiftly remove your underwear before returning to position on your knees outside of his open legs. He holds his breath, eagerly anticipating the impending penetration of his lover's deepest parts and the messy release of the tight knot of sexual desire within the pit of his stomach. A baritone, satisfied groan bursts from the depths of Malleus' lungs as your warmth encases his erection, sheathing his dick in an endless flow of slippery heat and the most luxurious pressure. It is one of his favorite pleasures to hold you close after having penetrated your deepest core and simply stay there to savor the ecstatic sensations. Nothing can replicate the pure feeling of euphoric fulfillment and unadulterated bliss when your lower half is connected as closely as it possibly can with his—both of your intimate zones smoldering in the ecstasy of total conjoining, bodies becoming one and unified, your souls entwined in a kiss. His toes curl and his muscles shudder, but before he can adjust, you start moving, using your hips to ride his lap.

Your thighs settle snugly around Malleus' hips, your weight rocking forward to penetrate your loins deeper on his member and envelop every inch of him until his hard cock reaches the deepest regions of your core. Malleus can barely comprehend what's going on, his mind drowning in an ocean of the purest pleasure, his hands searching desperately for yours as you place his palms on either side of your waist for a good grip. His lover's palms, made small by the bulk of his own, have only moments ago been manipulating his sensitive erection and granting him such euphoria. To touch the very appendages that have stimulated him, to hold you steady, to feel the love that flows through the both of you—the thrill of the experience sets Malleus' mind into overdrive, the preciousness of his time together with you compounding with his heightened physical sensations in a stunning synthesis. A symphony of sexy, wet noises of colliding bodies, creaking mattress, and throaty gasps and moans echo throughout his lonely, shadowy abyss, and Malleus feels as though his senses are being pleasurably overwhelmed. Malleus shoves his cock ever deeper within, nudging against the slick flesh with feverish abandon. He becomes desperate for an even tighter hold, urging your body to submit to him and drown in bliss. As his dick pumps into your sweet, greedy, and dripping hole with zealous thrusts, your combined rhythm becomes lost to the utter delirium of rapture as the fae's raw instincts to rut you senseless take over. The Prince of Darkness doesn't hold anything back— he thrusts up into your body with full and furious strokes, growls turning animalistic, cock pounding with merciless thrusts, and balls slapping against the juncture of your thighs.

You can barely handle the sheer thickness of Malleus' dick inside of you, its girth is massive. It stretches your walls and massages every part of you, the large ridge along his cock's underside scraping against your insides with every relentless slam. The slightest movement sends fireworks shooting through you and drives you insane, the heated passion causing a powerful buildup of pleasure already. Your gasps rise in volume, turning into shrieks as you give him your body entirely. One of his hands trails up from your waist, the rough and calloused fingertips ghost across your collarbone and up the curve of your neck. His head is tossed back from the carnal fucking but those elegant, sharp fingernails linger over your pulse, feeling the way blood beats under your skin and listening for the hitch of breath every time the angle of his cock rubs up against something magical inside of you.

Malleus is constantly shifting his position, driving his huge dick into the different angles with practiced efficiency as he listens intently for where to thrust harder, to where your breathing is quickest, and where he gets the loudest moans. The noise echoes back to him like the raunchiest opera. It leaves you shaking on him as he explores you with his cock, the sheer intensity of his frenzied ministrations threatening to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every single slam of his dick draws you to the edge of the pleasure-bound chasm, as waves of satisfaction ripple throughout every fiber of your being.

His large, sturdy hands have never left your form and cling possessively. When he lets go, it's to scrape his claws down the tops of your shoulders before seizing you tightly once more. With his thighs tense, his strong muscles drive up into you at a merciless speed, over and over. A throttled roar is building in the pit of Malleus' chest. At the top of your lungs, you scream out his name. There is no room for your thoughts, only the constant stream of the lust-drenched fog and the instinctive urge to reach your peak. Malleus' talons scratch down your back before grabbing onto the tops of your asscheeks and forcing your lower bodies impossibly closer together. Malleus bites your neck while simultaneously drilling his cock as deep as he can possibly go before pausing there, grinding into you and groaning. Your bodies move together in tandem, a wet dance that staves off your looming orgasms for a few more thrusts and moans.

Through the blinding white ecstasy, you can vaguely hear the haughty prince remarking how perfectly he fits and feels inside you. Between your moans and the slapping sound, his breathy laugh cuts through the room and brushes hot against the crook of your neck, teasing, "Your insides... tighten when I praise you..." Your walls immediately squeeze him on reflex at those words. This discovery of another weakness brings him closer, more ravenous, a little bit more wild with the need to take and claim. His face buries into your skin and his tongue flicks out against your neck, drinking up the salt of your sweat as he nips, bites, and sucks his mark there. Malleus wants to fill your greedy hole with his seed, mark his territory, make it absolutely clear that you are his forever by stuffing you full until his cum trickles from the very corners of you and soaks into the silken sheets of his bed. He pants and growls lewdly, plundering into you like a heathen and abandoning any sense of shame as he fully lets go of all composure. The guttural moans and bestial noises escaping his throat reverberate like music in your ears. They signal that the gorgeous prince is drawing dangerously near his edge. The primal urges you have summoned from him command his every thought and his body reacts instantaneously to all the stimulation you've given him thus far. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans now turning into shameless screaming. You match the intensity with which Malleus throws his entire body into the movements of fucking your hole. Malleus doesn't allow your body a single moment's rest as he thoroughly ruins you—each carnal rut and frenetic pound of his manhood into your core sets fire to your whole being, reducing your soul to ash in the passion's wake. His engorged, reddened tip abuses your g-spot to the point that your walls can't even tighten around him anymore due to being so utterly overwhelmed by his dick.

Malleus' heart jackhammers against his ribs and a sound that can only be described as a primal, draconic cry roars out. Thick, creamy spurts of his warm seed paint your inner walls white as his balls pulse and churn, filling you up so generously. The depth of your love and adoration has finally ripped the fae's last threads of restraint to shreds, unleashing his true self—wild, uncontrollable, feral—and the transcendent bliss leaves him howling your name in a voice more akin to a monster than a beautiful Prince. You throw your head back, feeling every muscle of your inner body clench in delicious contractions as you, too, reach the precipice, gushing all over him. All you can manage is to sink onto his thick, throbbing cock and just quake with the intense force of your orgasmic bliss, your legs spasming around him as you milk his twitching shaft.

Every wave of your orgasm sends him into his next. Your loud wails of pure pleasure are music to his ears. He growls and thrusts against you, eager to ensure you have been completely and utterly defiled with his load. The exhilaration and anticipation that was building all night finally peaks, and the intensity is just right to leave the both of you in an tangled afterglow of sweaty, quivering limbs. All he can see are swirling spots of magical color swimming in front of the blinding black of his blindfold. Every sense becomes a blurry haze. When he finds enough control over his quivering frame, Malleus holds you up and close to him, refusing to slip out from your body, letting you come to rest against his strong, tender embrace and gently stroking your hair as you nestle your forehead in the crook of his neck, nestled so comfortably between his head and shoulder. Malleus begins peppering your face and the exposed parts of your shoulder with butterfly kisses, his ragged breaths tickling your skin.

"My love..." the Prince purrs as you languidly snuggle into him, "You will never know what you've just done to me. I have felt so utterly and undeniably wanted, needed, desired." His strong arms embrace you, so gentle and loving and soft, it makes your heart beat a little bit faster and fills you up with an immense, powerful feeling. "You have made my existence feel absolutely perfect and wonderful, more so than I deserve." His voice grows thick and warm, full of tender affection as he adds, "Please, cherish me forever. I will pledge myself to you for as long as I live." 

He pulls the blindfold over his head, his eyelids fluttering open to meet your soft gaze and reveal his magnificent, emerald hues and smoldering, lust-drunk slitted pupils. You fall in love with him all over again, smiling brightly as you are greeted by your beloved Prince's elation at seeing your beautiful face once more. Malleus lifts his palm and tucks a lock of your hair behind the lobe of your ear, leaving his knuckles there for a few extra moments as he enjoys the flush and shimmer on your features, admiring the love of his life with all the admiration in the world.

Malleus' eyes spark with renewed mischief and he chuckles mischievously, the deep, smooth sound rolling with velvet menace. "No mortal has ever had this sort of control over me before. The experience was rather... illicit, and strangely beguiling. A little unexpected, however, when you nearly choked me with my own horns." A single sharp claw tips your chin upwards. "How lucky, indeed, am I to be fortunate enough to have you, the first person I ever held my heart out to, be so wicked to me. You were quite merciless tonight." His lascivious grin twists devilishly, and you find yourself enthralled with a certain mix of terror and rapture, unable to keep a devilish smirk of your own from twitching your own lips.

You had known that taking him away from the world for a brief moment of darkness would make his whole body light up like a star and let him truly lose himself to you, but you never would have predicted how viscerally it would affect him. Even so, it pleases you to have fulfilled your fae Prince's perverse needs. You kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles his sharp smile. "Now that you've revealed such a sinful aspect of yourself to me, you'll be the one beneath my power next time we indulge."

The playful menace in his smile doesn't quite mask the serious note in his voice. Malleus is absolutely determined to reciprocate the things he enjoyed receiving in equal measure. It was almost like his own hidden, dangerous desires had awoken when you dragged him down the path of depravity, and a new wave of perversion courses through him at the thought of transforming you into his own plaything. Your throat goes dry, knowing his strength and his kinky side may finally have been unshackled from its cage, and the fae might devour you without the restraint and kindness of his moralities to hold him back. His handsome features betray nothing of his sadistic plans—all you can see are his glorious, flashing eyes glimmering with mischief, and the dangerous upturn of his mouth. There's no telling how much Malleus Draconia has planned for you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if perhaps you'd created a bit of a monster with tonight's exploration.

Let me know if you all enjoyed this! Some Fun Erica Lore™ is that I have total aphantasia—I can't visualize (images or sounds) at all. So, I think because of that, I tend to be very descriptive with my words, since I can't visualize the scene in my head. Also, because I don't have visual memory, I do not remember memories or daydreams in a visual way, instead, I remember them by the feeling I felt in that moment (or the feeling I would feel if a situation was happening to me). Because I feel things so deeply, I like to convey the power of emotions in my writing. I hope I was able to elicit a strong emotional response from you. As always, thank you for reading. Every day, I continue to be awestruck by the outpouring of love and support I've received from you all. Thank you for welcoming my writing into this lovely community. Until next time, 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

[riri0rion]

wounds & kisses.

synopsis: love and deepspace boys’ reaction when you accidentally hurt yourself.

w.c: 2.8k. (intro: approx.500; 500 — 600 per character)

warning[s]: a bit of blood, use of she/her.

note[s]: sorry if they are ooc, also english isn’t my first language so it might be bad.

𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈;

the moon hung high above the world, irradiating the few places within its reach with the silvery radiance it managed to provide. the view outside remained monotonous for anyone courageous enough to try to conquer the scenery with eyes littered by gloomy marks of fatigue under a wavering gaze: no lamps from windows giving no view inside any establishment, display cabinets devoid of articles, filled with naked mannequins. it almost made the place look desolate, if not for the few cars roaring softly on an unoccupied road.

already, the night announced itself as unbothered by any events or perturbed by the grotesque view of any sort of crime. a peacefulness as this one was far in between, and any soul burdened enough by life itself would know how to be lulled to sleep by the rustling of the leaves against barely open windows, letting inside of their own dinky haven the comfortable noise of crickets wandering around in the uneven blades of grass.

and yet, in a certain accommodation, wood creaked under the careful footsteps of an individual. mindful enough to not awaken the other person sleeping comfortably in bed, probably dreaming of another lifetime holding the hand of the fated one.

entering the kitchen, she made no attempt to turn on any light, overestimating her blurry memories of the place and the locality of all objects alike in the only dimly lit kitchen. with the curtains closed, the moonlight barely entered the room, making it appear more eerie than it should. only after surveying the four corners in search of any kind of threat, as minuscule as one can be, did her attention switch towards the few cabinets hanging against the freshly painted walls.

reaching over, she hesitantly felt the small wooden doors in search of the handle, and once within reach, opened the first one without as much of a hassle. to her grandest luck, she found an empty glass sitting on the front row — a small thought from her beloved who knew of her midnight cravings happening more than once during the entirety of a week.

taking it, she closed the furniture without as much of a noise and stepped closer to the counter. deliberate and slow movements taking her quicker than expected towards the desired path. but to her biggest dismay, her own calculation of the distance left was wrong, and the second her fingers left the glass, it fell on the floor, creating a small ruckus in the once calm silence of the house.

she crouched down with a myriad of curses escaping her dry lips, and tried to clean it. but her hand slipped over the glass, and blood dripped on the floor as a gash appeared in her palm. at the same moment, the sound of the switch echoed as the darkness dissipated, and her gaze met the one of her beloved.

rubbing his eyes, still plagued by the sleepiness deeply rotten into his own system, 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 allowed himself the vulnerability of expressing his feelings with a not so graceful yawn. at least, he had the decency of covering his mouth during the act.

once satiated enough, his saxe colored eyes met those of his lover, crouching down near bloodied shards of glass with a hand holding the injured one.

he got down on one knee next to her, and offered a hand. as she allowed him access to the wounded limb by handing him her hand, his thumb gently brushed around the edges of the blood. some of it had the nerve to stain his digit, and yet he did nothing at all to wash it away for now, creating a contrast between the vibrant hue and the almost transparency of his skin.

the gesture was not much at first, but as the pain finally started to settle, she found herself secretly thankful enough for his care as the soothing motion distracted her mind from the burning sensation.

his hand gently came in contact with the lower part of her back, and he was careful enough as she got back up on her feet, taking a few more steps around the destroyed object on the floor to avoid any sort of contact with it. walking closer to the faucet, he halted his own movements to lean down, delivering a small kiss on the sweaty forehead of his lover.

“it’s going to hurt a bit, squeeze my hand if you want. or hit me.” the almost nonchalance in his tone, only laced with the slightest ounce of concern, urged a smile on those features he always gave himself the freedom to admire. never once did he forget such a face, even after centuries.

gently, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and brought her back against the softness of his cardigan. a comfortable linen made with the most expensive materials and embroidered with only the customer’s satisfaction and comfort in mind. and as she snuggled closer back against him, he let his head fall over her shoulder, his hand slipping under her top to massage the skin. a smile appeared on his facial features when he felt her own unscathed hand place itself above his.

with his hand free of anything, he turned the handle a bit, setting it on the colder side, but also not freezing. and finally he opened the water, letting it flow nicely into the sink.

his fingers went back to tenderly hold the injured hand, holding it under the cool water as it splashed against the wound. he felt a small switch, as well as a meek tremble coming from his lover. as a reassurance, his dry lips found themselves on her neck, delivering a small trail of kisses from the joints between the neck and shoulder, all the way up to the corner of her lips. he knew he had won when a small giggle left this pretty person he had adored so intimately in the past.

and his current embrace was a reminder that he will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. no matter if someone plucks his eyes out with a spoon, he will keep all those memories to dream during the night, and to remember during the day.

with a kiss as missable as a ghost on her mouth, he talked in hushed whispers close to her. “let’s go back to bed, i’ll make breakfast tomorrow.” another kiss on the forehead, and after carefully drying the now damp skin, they headed back to the confine and safety of their bedroom. the glass still broken on the floor laid there, motionless and tainted with crimson. in the morning, when she stepped into the kitchen, it was nowhere to be seen, with the hunter making some coffee.

before she could even blink, 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄’s slippers appeared into view, and what appeared to be a nervous noise escaped her throat as he crouched down next to her.

with a single gesture of his hand, he silently wondered for consent to touch the bleeding limb, and he got it as the back of her hand ended up against his palm. his skin was freezing cold, constantly, but it felt even worse right now for some unknown reasons. it was partially soothing.

getting back up to his feet, he brought up his lover with him. his hand left hers to instead rest around her waist to gently urge them towards one of the stools in the kitchen, making her sit down. with a hand, he ruffled the messy strands standing on top of her head, teasingly reassuring her as he walked around the counter to access the sink.

he took out a small towel from one of the cabinets and drenched it in cool water. squeezing it, some of the drops ended up rolling down his arm, making the skin glisten before he walked over back to her. taking hold of her wrist, he placed the towel slowly over the wound, eyes remaining focused on her face to see if any frown appeared. a small scowl made its way up there once the towel was almost fully placed down, and he leaned forward to place a small kiss between her furrowed eyebrows. the expression relaxed at the gesture.

“is that alright ?” his voice barely broke through the silence of the room, his fingers still moving around over the damped warmth of the soft material to adjust it carefully, rendering her comfort a priority.

his eyes went back up towards her eyes, their gazes met, and for some moments she found herself lost in the vibrant forest in his eyes. memories of sneaking out with the lover of sweets during their youth resurfacing like a tide rising from the depths of the ocean. hand in hand, pointing at unknown flowers, all of different hues creating a rainbow in the mortal realm. they had almost reached that paradise, their own garden of eden.

eventually, she was pulled out of her reveries by a macaroon being halfway slipped into her mouth. biting down, she used her free hand to hide her lips as she ate, and the doctor wasted no time eating down the other half. “isn’t that unhealthy ?” the teasing tone in her weary voice could not be mistaken. “you would be surprised to learn that sugar can be a replacement for antibiotics.” he stated matter of fact, as if it was an usual knowledge everyone had access to. she did not know if his words rang true or a mere joke to alleviate his own worries.

“stay here, i’ll clean the glass.” her eyes simply followed along as he walked away to get the broom, his footsteps echoing through the silent hallway. her hand merely remained above the towel, applying enough pressure to tend to the wound still stinging.

the rest of the night was firstly spent cleaning the small mess, before he offered her a glass of milk without breaking the cup this time — he used one made of cardboard to ensure no further wound would be inflicted. after that, he cleaned the wound more thoroughly and bandaged it before heading back to bed. his evol helped keep the pain at bay during the entirety of the night.

“did you decide to paint the floor ? blood is not a good pigment you know.” the voice of the artist resonated through the unmoving space, his eyes showing an uncertain vulnerability at the view of blood.

with a sigh, he stepped closer and bent down to his lover’s level, assessing the situation with his eyesight only. understanding such a situation without any words was not using too much brain power: his beloved on the floor holding a bleeding hand, a broken glass on the floor also bloodied.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 shook his head, finding amazement in all the different ways she managed to hurt herself with harmless objects from the daily. last time, she found a way to almost poke her own eye with the end of a paintbrush, and the time before that, she was this close to burning her hand by wishing to hold the frying pan on the stove without any protection. talk about an idiot. his idiot, without a doubt.

“you said you needed red paint to finish your painting…?” the attempt at turning this situation into a mere joke was deplorable, even if the courage could be honored.

rolling his eyes, he helped her back up on her feet without a single fuss, a strange silence overcame him and left the place lacking his constant bickering over her every movement. she enjoyed his voice after all, it sounded like waves gently crashing against the beach. a siren’s last song as she whistled down into her own demise.

“are you angry ?” from the corner of his eyes, he looked back at her, a certain frown etched upon his facial features. it almost looked like a child’s pout, an offense to his own self.

looking away, he turned on the water from the faucet, putting his own hand under it to wait for the perfect temperature. “no. just amazed by your lack of self preservation.” here it was back again, that small flame that flickers within his soul. a reminder of all he had lost and all he would continue to see slipping away from his grasp.

long ago, he promised to never have her be hurt again. and here he was, tending to a wound inflicted upon her by a broken glass. his own beloved bride not even remembering who he was, but still back in his arms as his heart laid bare for her to amuse herself with.

as he tended the wound, feeling the small trembling of her hand and spotting in the edges of his eyesight her lips turned into a line, a small smile appeared on his face and he bent down a bit to deliver a kiss on her lips. kissing her cheek afterwards to feel the heat slowly worsening at the affectionate gesture. “now you’re the one that’s angry.”

as she rolled her eyes herself, he placed his forehead against hers, witnessing the frown dissipating to be replaced by a smile blossoming on her features. “here, a fishy to keep you company while I clean your mess.” he sent her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, only to find her cuddled up against his pillow with the blue marine creature nestled against the wound.

laying down behind her unmoving body, he felt the steady breathing against his chest. one arm around her waist to make sure she won’t flee away again, and he cupped her other hand gently, warming it up carefully.

with an annoyed sigh, 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 walked closer to the scene. wasting no time, and wishing that he could go back to sleep soon enough, he bent down. wrapping an arm around her back and pushing the other under her knees.

“hold on tight, sweetie.” without hesitation, he pulled her up. an almost offended shriek left her, and she hit his chest with her undamaged hand, only making him smirk and chuckle slowly under his breath at the action that served no real purpose.

she could deny it all she wanted in her cute little head, but she enjoyed it deeply in the hidden confines of her heart. he enjoyed it too, feeling her arms around his neck for support and by the internal turmoil of being dropped to the floor suddenly. what an idea filled with stupidity, he will never drop her. not in a hundred lifetimes.

with a certain gentleness that she had no clue he possessed, he sat her down on the counter. his eyes taking in her slightly disbelieved appearance to try and spot any other blood anywhere else. the sternness in his scarlet eyes seemed to momentarily disappear for some moments, a sort of unknown relief that it was only her hand and that her body would continue to function properly.

firstly, he stepped closer to the windows, feet dragging to the floor wearily as he pushed one of them open to let some air flow in the room. and with an expertise of where everything was, he pulled out a first aid kit hidden under the sink.

“how many of those are there all around ? it’s the fifth i see.” his gaze did not go back to her face, remaining on the small bag as he took out whatever was necessary for properly cleaning up the injury. yet, he still delivered an answer. “guess.” she rolled her eyes, and his smugness could only go up as if this reaction stroked his ego by itself.

as he stepped closer, she plopped her head against his shoulder, reluctantly showing her palm up as it was illuminated by the lights of the room. wrapping an arm around her, his hand barely used any strength on her forearm, simply keeping her hand unmoving as he tended to the blood.

while cleaning the skin, a soft hum started to leave him. the sound in itself was not the greatest, and if she expressed as much, it would be nothing short of flattering. but a nostalgia remained, even as she did not remember learning it anywhere. and she found herself reminiscing of a life that isn’t theirs anymore, a reality in which, perhaps, losing themselves has been for greater good, as they found each other in this world all over again, rediscovering a forgotten symphony between their hearts.

some time went by before he was eventually done, throwing to the bin the used patches and bandages stained with crimson. putting back the first aid kit under the sink. before going to clean the broken pieces himself, he opened a random cabinet and pulled out another glass and a plate. from the refrigerator was also taken out some things, and he quickly placed next to her some pastries and a glass of milk.

she wasted no time in eating it, remaining unaware of his eyes training to her figure on the counter more than once as he took care of the mess. he could get used to this, this normal way of living. only with her, certainly.

[vivid-ink]

Kinktober #31 - A/B/O Omegaverse "I See You" (Teaser Snippet)

fem!Sub!OmatikayaReader x dom!Alpha!Neteyam Based off THIS REQUEST and incorporated with the final Kinktober prompt for Omegaverse.

Story Summary:Neteyam is your best friend & he seems intent on keeping you that way only... But he's the only alpha male that you truly desire... Will you succeed in convincing him to let you in, to let you show him what a perfect omega you could be to him, while he battles with his inner demons to resist you?

Warnings: 🔞 Sexual content 18+, MDNI 🔞

Author's Note: Hello my darlings. Here is a teaser snippet of my #31 Kinktober prompt to come! The full piece will be longer, about 10k words by my estimations, and it will have more emotional depth to it than this teaser shows. But I wanted to give you all a taste of the heat to come... 😉

Tagging some lovelies who might be interested (no pressure if you're not keen) - @blue-slxt @eyweveng @pandoraslxna @daeneeryss @glimmering-darling-dolly @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @delacruzyari @tallulah477 @vintaqestar @qcswrites @plooto @itchaboi-itchyboy @adrianarose7 @flyingspacewhale @ntymavtr @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @moonpie3000 @wheneclipsefalls

***~~~***

Neteyam didn’t move and he showed no objection to you inching closer to him. His eyes tracked yours as you drew nearer until you were so close that he was looking down his nose at you, your forehead a scant hand’s length from his chin. With the height difference between you, your head was tilted a fair way back to maintain the eye contact.

Eywa, he was so much bigger than you… Neteyam had always been taller than you, but his alpha hormones had really taken root in the last few years. He’d shot upward, his chest and shoulders had broadened, and his torso had filled out with bulky muscle. He was the very epitome of an alpha male: Strong and dominant, protector and provider.

Parting your lips, you let your breath sip in simultaneously through your mouth and nose, smelling him and tasting his captivating scent on your tastebuds. Neteyam’s lips were parted too, no doubt scenting you the same way.

“You reek.” Neteyam’s statement was frank, but despite his undesirable choice of words, his tone was unconvincing. His words came out like more of a rough moan than a growl.

Unable to resist your yearning to touch him any longer, your fingertips grazed the jut of his hip bones where you settled your palms against him. You whispered in response, “You smell really good too.”

You stepped right up to him, slotting your feet between his wider-placed ones to press yourself against his front. Your fingers tantalised his sides and you splayed your hands against his ribs, relishing in the feel of his scorching skin beneath your palms as you smoothed them up towards his shoulder blades. You hugged him, rubbing your cheek and jawline against his shoulder, marking him with your own scent glands. You could smell nothing except the heady and enthralling aroma of his alpha pheromones now, and your thighs clenched with your rising desire for him.

A quiet and strangled sound escaped Neteyam, “Last chance. Get out of here.”

In spite of his words, his body was playing a very different tune and you almost laughed at the contradiction. One of his arms had shifted to snake around your back, trapping you against him, and his other hand had slid down to squeeze at one plush round of your derriere. He was nosing through your hair, sniffing you, and you could feel the unmistakeable hardness of his arousal pushing against your abdomen.

You sighed out a breathy moan. The solid strength of his body against yours wasn’t enough; you wanted his heavy weight bearing down on yours and you wanted to be entangled in the cage of his strong arms while your bodies joined and moulded to each other’s in the most carnal of ways. Intoxicated by your primeval craving for him, one of your hands skimmed down to caress the skin of his hip while the other encircled his tail near its base, stroking it in a crude mimicry of what you could be doing to his cock instead.

Angling your head up you nuzzled at his jaw, “I don’t want to get out of here. Take me. I’ll be good to you, Neteyam.”

Neteyam’s tail tensed, arcing into a stiff curl towards his upper back as he enjoyed the tormenting stroke of your hand over one of the most erogenous zones of his body. His pelvis rolled lightly, rubbing the clothed length of his erection against you. His breathing was coming in harsh pants by your ear now and his frame juddered with barely reined control.

The fragility of his restraint was palpable in his voice when he growled out a final warning, “I won’t be gentle or patient. I will use you, fuck you and knot you until you’re overflowing with me, in your hands, in your pussy, from your lips; you’ll taste me on your tongue for weeks.”

You pushed your nose into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale of him, followed by a daring lick of your tongue right over one of his scent glands. Your response was a wanton hiss, “Yes, alpha.”

You both felt and heard Neteyam’s restraint snap. He crushed your slighter frame to his with a coarse growl that sent hot shivers prickling through you. The thin ties of your delicately strung top strained against your skin for only a brief moment before they gave way in a burst of beads, feathers and leaves, as he tore the garment from your body to expose your breasts.

Your nipples kissed the cooling night air and your gaze tilted skyward when he fisted one hand in the braids at the base of your skull, bending you backward with another strong arm around your waist to support your weight entirely. You only managed a glimpse of his golden eyes, ravenous with lust, before he delivered a swift and biting kiss to one of your breasts. The rasp of his tongue over the pointed bud of your nipple made you cry out and molten heat began to liquefy at the junction of your thighs.

You’d succeeded in awakening the rutting alpha and you knew that you would be devoured tonight…

Full story now HERE

Author's Note: Teehee. It's going to get HOT in here. Sing out in the comments if you'd like to be tagged for the full Kinktober piece! Thanks for reading! 😘

[tinycurlyfry]

Thinking about how Buggy and Shanks parallel Zoro and Luffy but if Luffy dropped his ambitions. The agreement between Zoro and Luffy was that Zoro would follow Luffy, be his first mate, be his swordsman, the first member to join his crew and set sail to achieve Luffy’s dream of being Pirate King IF Luffy never got in the way of Zoro’s dream of being the Strongest Swordsman in the world.

Buggy and Shanks were “apprentices” to Roger (and really more or less they were his sons). They were learning from Roger and learning what being a pirate SHOULD BE. So as apprentices, it would go without saying (at least as far as Buggy is concerned) that that means they need to be the ones to carry Roger’s Legacy. That they should be the ones to get their captain’s treasure and carry out what he wanted for the world. We see it in what Buggy is CURRENTLY doing. That he wants to inspire people to achieve their dreams. Crocodile sees piracy as a business, and Mihawk sees his position as a power pirate as a means to live a peaceful, lazy life where no one would dare bother him. But they don’t have the  ROMANTICISM of a dream anymore. And all those years ago Buggy heard Shanks say he was no longer throwing himself into the romanticism of pirating and adventuring anymore. He’d be a pirate sure, but there was no drive, no DREAM behind it anymore. 

And then he asks Buggy to still be a part of his crew. I can only imagine what that request must have felt like to Buggy. For Shanks to tell him “I won’t be the pirate king you saw me as. I’m not seeking any dream. But come be a part of my mediocracy. Just settle for less, Buggy.”

Now of course, Shanks still went and became a HUGE big name pirate. One that achieved Emperor level. But in that moment? In that moment it felt like Shanks was asking Buggy to give up on his dream, settle for being a pirate simply to be a pirate, and betray what they had learned from Roger.

Luffy was never going to get in the way of Zoro’s dream. Zoro’s desire was Luffy’s desire and vice versa, because as they said themselves in the show- the pirate king shouldn’t have anything less than the best swordsman on his crew. But Buggy’s desire was not Shank’s desire. I’d argue it probably still isn’t! I know Shanks is now making his move for the One Piece, but I honestly don’t know that that is his true objective. I think he thinks his place is to BE THERE when the battle for the One Piece happens. He placed a bet on the new generation and he is going to be there to see that bet come to fruition.

And I think part of that conversation between Shanks and Buggy was how they were each grieving. They had both lost a captain, but also a father.

But Buggy has not given up. His own dream was rekindled this most recent chapter (yes partially because he believes Shanks finally wants to be pirate king too), but partially because he finds himself SURROUNDED by people who know longer believe in the child-like wonder of adventure and treasure and the DREAM of becoming PIRATE KING. I think Buggy HAD also given up down the line. I think we saw a Buggy who’d lost his way at the beginning of the series. I do think Buggy doesn’t have the... best morals... But whether it’s intentional or not Buggy is not who we saw at the beginning of the series and he’s rallying so many people under him, and giving them sanctuary, and honestly? Reaching a king’s status to so many people. 

But honestly? If Luffy suddenly went “You know what? I’m happy with what I’ve got here. I don’t need to be pirate king anymore. We don’t need to get the One Piece.” The Straw Hats would be SO LOST. Sure maybe they wouldn’t all get immediately angry or upset as Buggy had and asked “Well, what DO you want then?” But they are a crew made from the collection of DREAMS. And everyone’s dream is their own dreams. Zoro’s ambition became Luffy’s ambition, but that would never had happened if there was even a small chance that Luffy would be satisfied with anything that fell lower than reaching their dreams.

All this to say I’m proud of Buggy and support him as Leader of Cross Guild LMAO I hope he continues to fail upwards.

[semiis]

KIND OF CLICHE W/ MIYA ATSUMU

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

genre: best friends to lovers : fluff

“alright! I’ll see ya guys tomorrow.” atsumu called out, closing his dorm’s door behind him with a decisive click. 

throwing his head against the door, atsumu sighed breathlessly. his gaze wandered to the clock on the wall, its hands pointing to [22:10]. surprise flickered in his eyes as he realized he had been practicing at the gym for nearly six hours. he didn’t mean to overwork himself today but he needed to ensure his skills were perfection. he was resolute in his determination to secure sponsorships and, eventually, a full draft if he wanted to make it as a professional athlete. if his ambition demanded he push his body to its limits, he welcomed the challenge without hesitation.  

with a weary huff, atsumu pushed himself away from the door and began his trudge towards his room. utterly exhausted, the mere thought of his bed waiting just ahead filled him with a profound sense of relief. as he finally approached, he flung the door open with vigor and carelessly threw his gym bag across the room, indifferent to where it landed. collapsing onto his bed, a sigh of bliss escaped his lips. this was all he desired after such an arduous day of practice—a fleeting moment of peace and rest.  

he closed his eyes, breaths growing shallow as he sank deeper into relaxation. at this rate, he would inevitably succumb to sleep—not that he would mind. a moment of sleep would do wonders for his exhausted body. with no morning classes tomorrow, the idea of sleeping in was irresistibly tempting to his fatigued mind. just as he began to drift to sleep, a resounding knock on his door jolted him back to wakefulness. 

he groaned as he sat up, his gaze settling on the figure standing at his door. his eyes narrowed into a piercing glare, and with a gesture of utter annoyance, he flipped them off before sinking back onto his bed. 

“go away, suna” atsumu grumbled grumpily. “i’m trying to rest here.”

“first of all, that was rude, asshole.” suna retorted bitterly, though a hint of playfulness still colored his tone. “secondly, not my problem you decided to stay at the gym later than usual.” 

atsumu groaned even louder at the reminder of his six-hour practice session and turned on his side to fix a tired gaze on suna, who stood casually in the doorway. 

“whatever dude.” atsumu muttered. “what do ya want?”

“i just came to tell you to check your phone.” suna replied. “kita’s talking about something in the volleyball group chat and is kind of bothered that you’re not responding.” 

atsumu sighed and patted his pockets, searching for his phone, but found nothing. alarmed, he sat up and checked his pockets again more frantically. he rummaged through his bed sheets but still came up empty handed. he tried to think where he could have left it and finally relaxed when he remembered packing it in his gym bag. he was too tired to remember doing that before.

he begrudgingly rose from his bed, slowly making his way towards the bag he had carelessly flung across the room earlier. as he picked it up and unzipped it, he cautiously felt around for his phone, sighing in relief as his fingers closed around the familiar rectangular object. just as he was about to retrieve it, he froze. his fingers had brushed against something mysterious—something that felt like…paper? 

puzzled, he furrowed his brows. he didn’t recall packing anything with paper in his gym bag; all his books and homework were in his regular school bag. intrigued, he reached for the flimsy object and slowly drew it out. his eyes fell on the paper in his hands, and he began to scan its contents. with each line he read, his eyes widened, and a swell of joy and excitement surged within him.

“no way…” he murmured, struggling to suppress a smile.

kind of cliche

⤷ part 2 : that was rude

synopsis • too scared to actually admit your feelings for Miya Atsumu - your best friend- face to face, your friends encourage you to leave him anonymous letters expressing just how much you like him — which, to you, seems kind of cliche.

—

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© semiis 2024 ; do not translate, repost, modify, or copy my work.

[changbunnies]

Connected (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight!Bang Chan x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: angst, fluff, royal au, historical au, knight x princess au, arranged marriage (for reader), forbidden love, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining (they are so oblivious)

♡ Word Count: 15.9k (oops lmao)

♡ Summary: Y/N, as princess of the kingdom, is destined to marry for politics and financial gain, but all she wants is to marry for love. Chan, her childhood friend turned royal knight, has to either come to terms with her inevitable marriage, or finally confess the feelings he's been harboring for years.

♡ Warnings: very brief minho x reader, extremely jealous chan, also lowkey possessive chan, (he's not in any toxic way at all but still), reader is implied to be plus size, old timey traditions and expectations of women to suit the setting, i think thats about it ??

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (princess (mostly as a title), darling, my love) loss of virginity (both reader and chan are virgins), nipple play, fingering (f rec), unprotected piv, creampie, overall very soft sex with some shyness and teasing sprinkled in, breeding kink if you squint

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03 here and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams ! and thank you so much for all the love my works have gotten so far, i appreciate it sm !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

A sigh passes your lips as you stare out at the sprawling nature before you from up on your balcony. The sight of trees swaying in the wind, flowers blooming towards the sun, and animals skittering about on the earth below always helped to ease your troubled mind.

You always found yourself here when the worries of life and your duty proved too much for you. As the kingdom’s heir to the throne, you weren't often afforded the luxury of leaving your castle, or dirtying your soles by prancing in the nearby forest. 

Instead, you often had to settle for the next best thing– simply observing it. Normally that was enough for you, but on days like today, where you were constantly bombarded with responsibility and expectations, you wished you could flee into the forest and never look back. It would be difficult to flee your life, but surely it would be better than this. You were tired of feeling so stifled all the time. 

"All that sighing isn't going to help, Princess," a familiar voice speaks from the doorway of your bedroom. "I know that," you frown, turning to look at your childhood friend turned royal knight with crossed arms and a glare on your face.

You know Chan doesn’t mean to add to your frustration, and normally you wouldn’t snap at him over a comment made in jest, but you're really in no mood for it right now. You’ll apologize later when you’re less quick to anger; right now, you are currently too stuck in your feelings to respond kindly. 

It'd been a week since you were informed of your inevitable marriage, and you still hadn’t come to terms with it to any degree. Your father, the current King, informed you that the eligible men who desired your hand would be arriving later in the month, and how you were expected to be on your best "womanly" behavior when meeting your suitors for the first time. You knew it would happen someday but you still loathed the idea of it.. It made you feel like an object, like a pawn to be used rather than a person with her own thoughts and feelings. 

"My apologies Princess, but you've been really down these past few days. I thought you might enjoy some company," Chan explains with his perfectly rehearsed politeness that you haven't quite gotten used to hearing yet. "Stop calling me Princess when it's just the two of us, it's unnecessary," you complain while Chan looks at you with a playful smile. 

"Very well, Princess," he teases in response, laughing when you scowl at him for it. Chan has been your knight for a little over a year now, and while you did enjoy having him around more often, the tone shift from friend to knight was jarring. There were times where you missed your old dynamic, when he'd speak to you with no pleasantries or titles (though it did often incur the wrath of your attendants for being 'disrespectful' to the princess.)

You never found him disrespectful however; you actually quite liked that he always spoke to you candidly and without pretenses. Even as a kid you'd noticed the way commoners treated you differently from everyone else, and you liked that Chan didn't. Though he was just a child like yourself at the time, and most likely did not realize the impact it had on you, you enjoyed being able to feel like a normal person. 

He was often on the castle grounds due to his parents, his mother a maidservant and his father a horseman. And while he was never supposed to have met you due to the difference in station, you two often found yourselves in each other's path.

You learned to ride horses together under his father's tutelage, he would accompany his mother around the castle as she cleaned various rooms, and he’d always wave to you with a goofy smile while you were studying (even if it ended in a scolding from the adults around him.)

You had quickly become fond of him, your only friend in an otherwise lonely world. You can remember fondly the days where he would distract you from your lessons by making silly gestures behind your tutors' backs, and how he’d gift you trinkets from outside the castle’s walls, such as cheap dolls and freshly picked flowers. 

They were “plain” by royal standards, but you still loved them dearly, as they were things you had never had in your life until he brought them to you. He would even bring delicious pastries and fresh bread made by his mother, which had become your favorite things to eat simply because it was so different from everything else you were allowed to have. 

Chan steps onto the balcony, taking his place next to you. He leans against the banister, staring out at the scenery that held your attention moments ago. "I don't want you to get married yet either," he admits after a brief moment of silence. You look at him, taking in the sullen expression on his face. You are initially surprised he looks so sad, allowing you to catch a glimpse at his usually hidden vulnerability.

You know very well that he, like anyone, is capable of feeling a depth of complex emotions, but he rarely shows you that side of himself. You spend so much of your days stressed or tired or daydreaming about being anything other than what you are, so he chooses not to burden you with any feelings he has. You've told him many times that he could, even encouraged him to share with you, but he always said he'd rather focus on making you feel better because that would make him feel better too. 

“You don’t..?” you ask, though you wonder what you are even expecting to hear in response. He’s your best friend and he cares about your feelings, so obviously he doesn’t want to see you go through something you hate. It obviously it saddens him to see a friend hurting– but despite yourself, you still hope for his feelings to go beyond that. 

You want to hear him say he cares about your inevitable marriage not as a concerned best friend, but as a man. A man who loves you, a man who wants you, a man who would fight for your hand in marriage against all odds. It's foolish, you know this, but you can’t stop yourself but hoping for it. 

Your heart ignores the logic your brain provides, disregarding that he'll never be allowed to marry you even if he did have romantic feelings for you and was willing to fight against tradition for you. It doesn't matter that he has devoted his life to protecting you, that he's extremely well read or gifted in combat, or that he grew up within the same castle walls that you have. He will always be "beneath you", his merits never good enough, all because he was born to commoners. 

You always hated that. Why do the circumstances of someone's birth have to matter so much? Why does fate have to be decided based on what family you are born into?

And you can still remember vividly the day you realized you cared for him as more than just the best friend you grew up with. When he stood before you, handsome in his weathered training armor and practice sword in hand, smiling proudly as he devoted his life to your care, your heart fluttered.

Chan worked hard to be your knight, practiced with his sword to the point of exhaustion, spent countless hours reading about affairs between nations and studying combat techniques, all to be the one who protects you. He dedicated his life to you, to being by your side through everything, even if it meant putting his personal affairs on hold. 

There were times where you still didn’t understand why he sacrificed so much of his freedom for you. The life you lived was so stuffy and restricting, and he could do anything. He could do whatever he wanted with life, live anywhere in the world, choose from a myriad of careers, yet he chose to be stuck in the castle with you for the rest of his youth. 

The day you turned 14, you confessed to him that you were dreading the day you both became adults because you knew your lives would take you different places. Even if he followed in his father’s footsteps and became the castle's horseman, you'd likely rarely, if ever, see him. It was something you thought about a lot, as you were often reminded by your elders of your responsibilities to the kingdom, but that day it was hitting you particularly hard. 

That day sticks firmly in Chan's head as well; he can still remember the way tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the reality of getting older and the responsibilities that were soon to follow already bearing heavily on you.

That was the day he decided he’d work hard to always be near you, as he never wanted to see you cry over his separation from you. If there was no reason for him to stay, he would make one. If it meant freedom and choice was taken from him, he was willing to let those things go. If it was for you, it would be worth it.

When you asked him why he decided to become a knight despite the sacrifice and responsibility it entailed, why he was willing to give up so much to stay in the castle with you, he simply smiled at you. “It’s where I am meant to be,” he replied, dimples lighting up his face in an expression so sweet it made your stomach flip. 

You fell in love with him that day. Or maybe you always loved him, and that was the day you fully realized it. That intangible feeling that always lingered whenever you looked at him, that you couldn’t hold and understand but knew was there. It was love, all that time. You knew it then, and you still know it now. Chan is the only person you will ever love. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon comforting you, as he always does when you are feeling unhappy and indignant. Giving you kind words or gentle, comforting silence when you need it, transitioning into his goofy side who makes jokes and does his best to make you laugh as soon as you show that you are feeling better. 

And it does help, but in a way it also makes it worse. Because unbeknownst to him, he’s just reaffirming your love for him. For every gesture that endears you to him, it also makes your heart sink even further. And worse of all, you can’t even be upset about it– because he doesn’t know your feelings, he doesn’t know how his kindness feels akin to a knife in your gut. 

And it’s likely he’ll never know. Because when can you tell him? How can you tell him? It’s not meant to be, and it never will be. For as long as you are royalty, he’ll never be allowed to love you, and you’ll never be allowed to love him. The sooner you accept it the better off you’ll be, but you don’t know if you ever can. 

How do you make yourself stop loving someone so perfect? How do you put aside your feelings, how do you pretend that they never existed in the first place? You’re lost, you’re stuck, and you know nothing will change it.

You suppose the best you can do is enjoy the little time you have remaining. Live in the moment with him instead of worrying so much about the future, because once it’s here you won’t be able to get this time back. 

That’s why you smile for him, earnestly. You laugh with him the way you always do, you reminisce about your childhoods, you talk about all your favorite things instead of wallowing in what you hate. You don’t allow yourself to frown or cry until he’s gone for the night, the setting of the sun beckoning him out of your room and to his own. 

You cry as you wash off the day's grime in the bath, you cry as you towel off in front of the mirror, and you cry as you lie in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you think about all the joy you will never have.

Because you will lose Chan before you ever even had him. Never being allowed to hold his hand, to kiss him, to lie with him.. Because he is your knight, and a princess isn’t supposed to fall in love with one. 

It’d been over a month since your suitors first started arriving at the castle to meet you, settling into their guest rooms and (frustratingly) occupying your days. You were as respectful as you were expected to be, but you really didn’t put in any effort to get to know them more deeply. You just weren’t interested in any romantics with them. 

If the situation were different, and these were men you were meeting with the prospect of friendship or strengthening ties between allied kingdoms platonically, you would be much more susceptible to the pleasantries. As it stands now, you can’t put yourself out there for them the way you are expected to. 

Most of them seem nice enough, and for the ones with gentler personalities you do feel bad for your standoff-ish attitude, but showing your disinterest firmly is the best way to not give anyone false hopes. You know you won’t fall in love with any of them, and wouldn’t it be worse to lead them on by having no backbone? 

Sure, you could be a bit nicer, but why would you be? They are all here with the intention to marry you, they all have a goal in mind– to win you over by any means necessary. Even if they had the purest of intentions, it wouldn’t sway you to change your mind so easily.

At the end of the day, no matter who is here for a chance at genuine love and who is here for political gain, you are being treated like an object, and it’s something you detest with your entire being. And even leaving aside your feelings for Chan (which undeniably also plays a part in your disdain for your situation), you still wouldn’t enjoy this process.

Maybe it was your own fault for idolizing fairytales and spending your free time daydreaming about what your perfect life would look like, but what can you say? You’re a hopeless romantic, even to a fault, it seems. Is it truly so bad for you to want genuine love with someone? A love that happens organically, unforced by any outside factors pushing for it? 

And now here you are, letting your maids prepare your attire and dress for tonight’s ball, where you will be expected to mingle with and accept the advances of your suitors, even if it is performative in nature. You try your best not to scowl in disapproval when your maids talk excitedly about your “romances”, who they think is most handsome out of your suitors, and who they hope you will choose. 

You wish you could scream out, “I choose none! I don’t want to marry any of them!” You’d gladly let these girls take their pick of the men who came for you. It seems that the fan favorite, as it were, is Sir Minho, the handsome son to Duke Lee in the western lands. Apart from being attractive, he’s well-mannered, compassionate with animals, and skilled in battles of wit. 

If you were being truthful, he was an easy pick. He was easily the most desirable of every suitor, not just from a personal standpoint, but also from a political standpoint. Keeping relations with the west positive would lower chances of revolt or separation into their own independent nation.

Yes, if you were smart and not at all stubborn, you would most certainly pick Minho. But stubborn you undeniably were; opinions firm and unbending, resistant to compromise or sacrifice.

And honestly, shouldn’t that be expected? Why wouldn’t the princess, who is capable of having everything material she ever wanted, not be selfish when it comes to love? You like to think yourself a reasonable person, one who makes sound decisions and goes through life with a firm sense of rationality. However, when it comes to Chan, all rational thought and decision making seems to leave you, replaced solely by emotion. 

Your heart overtakes you, arguing fiercely with your rational and intelligent brain, as if making the logical, sensible choice would be foolish despite the reality being the opposite. You let out a sigh, that your maids thankfully mistake as one of exhaustion. While you arguably had the easiest job in the room, just sitting around and letting others doll you up, it was still tiring in its own right. 

Layers upon layers of petticoats, chemises, and skirts, tight garters to hold up your stockings, squeezing into a corset and then adding even more layers on top of that.. If the end result wasn’t so gorgeous, you’d absolutely hate this process. And god forbid you needed to use the bathroom at any point– that endeavor in itself was hellish. 

After the grueling task of fitting you into your finest royal blue ensemble, your hair and makeup came next. You begged for it to be on the simpler side, as you would be occupied for hours tonight and really didn't want to worry about keeping it pristine the entire time, and they thankfully obliged the request. There’s a few moments of downtime when they are finished, which gives you time to breathe and prepare yourself mentally for the night’s festivities. 

There is a knock on the door, which the maids closest to the door don’t hesitate to open. It’s Chan, of course, as it’s his job to come collect you whenever it’s necessary for you to leave your room. That’s another reason this night you’re upset about tonight– you wish you could walk together to the ballroom as a couple, instead of as a knight and princess.

“It is time to go, Princess. The guests have begun arriving in the ballroom,” he says, keeping his gaze professional under the watchful eyes of the maids in the room. 

But God, is that hard for him. You're so unbelievably beautiful it makes his heart feel like it's twisting in his chest. He’s lucky that no one in the room seemed to notice the way it stole his breath away, or the way his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they should have before he directed you to follow him out of the door. 

You thank your maids for their help before you depart, and they all say some variation of “have fun!” as you leave the room. “Fun” is doubtful in this scenario, but you’ll certainly try to not be miserable. Try being the keyword– you make no such promises of how things will actually play out. 

You put on the best smile you can manage when you enter the room, letting various guests greet you, briefly indulging them in small talk before Chan helps you move your way past them. You take a seat next to your parents, with Chan standing just a few feet away– a respectable distance as to not intrude on the royal family, but close enough to reach you quickly if something went wrong.  

As is to be expected, sticking close to your parents and away from the dancing doesn’t spare you from any attention. Those who are permitted to speak with the royal family appear to you in a near constant stream, with monotonous questions about how you’ve been and how you feel about your inevitable marriage in tow.

God, the night has just begun and you’re already tired. Is it too early to retreat back to the safety of your room? You take a quick glance around the ballroom, taking note of all the guests you have an obligation to talk to and who you could feasibly get away with staying away from.

Unfortunately, it seems like your evening will be full of talking to people you don't want to deal with. You said you'd try to have a good time, but that didn't mean you had to right this second, did it? You're definitely staying at the table for as long as possible, even if it causes your guests to think of you disfavorably (and if you're lucky, it will.) 

It's probably about two hours into the gathering when your parents seem to grow tired of you doing nothing but sitting with them at the head table. You can tell even before it happens that your mother and father have something to say about your silent protest.

"Why aren't you out there, dear?" your mother asks, taking a gentler approach despite the obvious frown of displeasure on her face. Truthfully, she understands your sadness and feels for your plight, but she can’t allow you to wallow in it.

You are very clearly sulking, proper manners ignored as you sit with crossed arms and a pout. “Don’t like to dance,” you lie, but everyone near you knows that isn’t true. 

You normally loved dancing. You would attend your dance lessons enthusiastically, and later you would sneak Chan into the ballroom to teach him everything you learned. Although he loved music and followed rhythms easily on his own, his initial steps with you were always awkward. His excuse was that he was nervous to be dancing with the princess, but you would remind him that since being the princess never made him hesitate with you before, it shouldn’t matter now.

In all honesty, a majority of his nerves came from being afraid of making a mistake in front of you. Chan could normally dance very well, often being complimented and told he was a natural at it, but doing it with you made him especially nervous. What if you felt how sweaty his palms were becoming just from having you closer than usual? What if you could hear how loudly his heart was pounding? What if the nerves made him do the steps wrong? 

He really liked you, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in your presence. Chan is often goofy, yes, but it was always willfully. He liked making you laugh and smile, but he didn’t want that side of him to be out in that moment. He found himself wanting you to see a different side of him, he wanted to impress you with how easily he picked up what you taught him, he wanted you to compliment him with your sweet voice.

To his own relief, Chan eventually managed to conquer his nerves, and he was able to pick up the steps and lead the dance without making an embarrassment of himself. Soon enough, the two of you would regularly spend hours in the ballroom together, dancing until late into the evening. With no band to play music for you, the both of you would take turns humming melodies, though you always preferred when Chan was the one doing it as his voice was so melodic and beautiful to you. 

With your memories of each shared, secret dance so clear in your mind, how can you dance with any of these men and not think of Chan? How do you look at any of them and not compare their differences? How can you be with them without thinking about how you’d rather be with Chan instead? Even if they were lovely, even if they were without flaw, they weren’t who you wanted to be with. 

You glance at Chan, who has to remain stone faced in these moments. Your parents are aware that you became friends with him well before he was inaugurated into knighthood, but they don’t realize to what extent.

They don’t know about the countless hours spent together, how you’d disregard rules to be near him, or how you’d sneak him into spaces he normally wouldn’t be allowed in. He can’t make them aware of how close the two of you truly are by reacting, and you know this well, but you still can't help but seek him out in every moment. 

Noticing you looking at him, Chan shoots you a small look of sympathy before your parents can notice, doing his best to ease you despite the restrictions. He knows you don’t want to do this, and that you hate being scolded and reminded of how “important” it is to have a “good” husband.

“Good” meaning having power, or wealth, or a prestigious lineage in this case. You don’t want to care about formalities, traditions, or responsibilities. You don’t want to prioritize superficial qualities or be in a loveless marriage purely for alliance. 

Is it really so terrible for you to just be in love with someone for who they are instead of what they have? You don’t care about what they have to offer or what legacies their families hold. You want to be with the person whose smile lights up your world. You want to be with the person who sacrificed so much just to stay within your realm. You want Chan. 

“Your suitors would love to dance with you,” your father says, “You should at least try to get along with them, don’t be stubborn. You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.” Chan watches your expression change, the mix of anger and sadness bubbling within you becoming increasingly more apparent. He wishes he could rush to your side and help, but he can't. So instead he stands in place, fists clenched in a vain effort to ground himself as he remains frozen to his spot. 

“Of course father,” you say as you stand, biting your tongue so as to not make a scene in the middle of an extravagant ball. Despite your tumultuous feelings, you're not foolish enough to disrespect the king with an audience. “I need a moment, if you’ll allow it,” you say and your father nods, finding it a reasonable enough compromise. 

You bow politely before you go despite how badly you wish you could storm out and give a bitter display of resentment. Chan moves to follow you, (which he would do even if it wasn't his job,) but your mother calls for him to wait a moment. “I’m aware my daughter is unhappy about this, but try to talk some sense into her for me, will you? I doubt she’ll listen to us, upset as she is. She may find it easier to listen to someone unattached to the situation.” 

‘Unattached.’ If only she knew Chan was terribly, terribly attached to the situation– attached to you. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answers politely, bowing before he steps away to follow your path out of the ballroom. It doesn’t take him long to find you despite his delay leaving; he knows you well enough to know where you prefer to be when upset.

You are outside, sitting on the steps leading to the garden, arms hugging your legs with your head against your knees. You feel trapped, and looking out at nature always helps (even if in this case said nature was still confined within the castle’s walls.) You lift your head when you hear Chan’s footsteps behind you, wiping stray tears from your eyes as he approaches. “Y/N..” he speaks softly, heart tugging at him painfully; he always hated seeing you cry. 

He sits next to you, deciding comforting you was more important than worrying about who would see the two of you being close. If he gets in trouble, so be it; you need your friend right now, not your knight. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you carefully to his side. “I hate this,” you mumble with a trembling voice, burying your face in his shoulder. 

Chan swallows, trying to find the words to say. He hates it too– unbearably so. Every time he pictures you being in love with someone else it makes him physically ill. He doesn’t want to think about how devastated he’ll be hearing you say ‘I love you’ to another man, how excruciating it will be for him to watch from the sidelines while you build a future with someone he can never be. 

He knows his heart will crumble when he sees you make your eternal vows to someone else, so beautiful and demure and forever out of his reach. He made his promise to be your knight for the remainder of his days knowing this is what it would entail, but fuck, it still hurts.

Chan has always considered himself a strong and resilient person, and he felt like he could handle this inevitability, but maybe he was naive to think so; nothing could have prepared him for how painful the reality actually was. His mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone unattainable– his mistake was thinking he could survive the heartbreak.

In all his life, he’ll never regret falling in love with you or becoming the knight you need, but he’s still human. A selfish human, who wants more than he can be granted, who wants to marry his beloved princess more than any treasure or title in the world. 

Chan does his best to keep his breathing steady, not wanting to alert you that he was affected by this way more than a friend or knight should be. He thinks about what your father said to you shortly before you left the ballroom. ‘You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.’  

As much as he hated to admit it, your father had a point. And he could see why your mother wanted him to make you understand, but did he really have it in him to follow her request? Could he encourage you to try to fall in love with someone else knowing how it’d tear him apart?

It’s the last thing he ever wants to do, but devoting his life to you meant he had to put aside selfish desires. He couldn’t let his love for you cloud his judgment, he couldn’t sabotage your chance at happiness to make himself feel better. How can he be a proper knight if he puts his selfish hopes above what is best for you in the long run? 

“Listen.. I know you might not want to hear this but.. Your parents have a point. You should get to know them better,” Chan speaks cautiously, trying to prepare for whatever reaction you might have. It kills him to say it, not just because he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, but also because he knows you won’t want to hear this from him. He watches you freeze, staring at him in something akin to saddened disbelief.

You feel as if your cracked heart has now completely shattered. If there was any doubt before, now you know. Chan doesn’t love you the way you love him. He wouldn’t be okay with this if he loved you, he wouldn’t want to see you marry someone if he wanted you the way you want him. Your feelings have always been one sided. You swallow, trying not to cry any more than you already have or show how hurt that made you feel. 

“So you agree with them then..” your voice is quiet and defeated. What do you even say..? Should you admit that one of the reasons this is so hard for you is because you’re in love with him? Would that even change anything? You always knew being in love with him was a fool’s endeavor, and now that truth was solidified. 

“It’s not that. You know I don't want you to, it’s just– I know you’re miserable right now. And the reality is that you’ll have to marry one of them. If you get to know them and grow to love one of them, it’d be better for you. The way things are now, you’ll never be happy, and that's all I want for you.. Just to be happy,” he says, trying his best to show you how earnest he is.

He’s so fucking in love with you, of course he doesn’t want to see you marry someone else, it’s the last thing he ever wants. He doesn’t want to watch you fall in love with one of them, he doesn’t want to sit on the sidelines while you give your love to someone else, but he can’t keep denying the reality before him. Despite how selfish he is, he can’t put himself and what he wants above you.

And putting those selfish desires aside, he just wants you to have a good, happy life, even if that happiness comes from someone else. No matter how badly he wishes he could be the one you spend your forever with, it’s not the life that is meant for him. He has to come to terms with that, now more than ever. He has to, because it'll break him apart if he doesn't. 

You look at him now, and as much as it hurts, you can see the sincerity. Even though it’s not what you wanted to hear, you know how much he cares about you. Even now, he’s looking out for you and trying his best.

Maybe he doesn't love you the way you love him, but it is a form of love nonetheless. His actions have never shown you anything different, and even if it’s not the sort of romantic love you want it to be, you should be happy with what you already have with him.

You separate yourself from his gentle hold, standing quickly as you do your best to wipe your tears without ruining your makeup any further. “You’re right. I’ll try,” you say, forcing yourself to find the resolve you desperately need to get this night over with. He smiles at you, albeit strained as he suffers with his own tumultuous emotions, and rises to his feet as well. 

Chan gives you one last gesture of comfort, a gentle squeeze to your hand, before he leads you back to the ballroom where everyone waits for you to return. “Are you ready?” He asks when you are both stopped in front of the doors.

You sigh, taking just a small moment before you nod and allow yourself to enter the bustling room. You’re not ready, but it will never get any easier, so you suppose you’ll just have to accept that and get on with it regardless.

You leave Chan standing with your parents, where he can still have you in his line of sight while not intruding upon anything you need to do. You suppose if you’re really going to commit to this, you should go with the obvious choice– Lee Minho. It doesn’t take you long to spot him either; all you had to do was follow the gaze of infatuated maids to see him standing in a bubble with other high society guests your father invited to the event. 

“Sir Minho, are you occupied?” you ask as you step forward to him, the crowd that had gathered around him easily dissipating to allow the princess closer to her suitor. “Of course not, Princess. Would you like to dance?” he smiles politely as he holds out his arm for you, and you accept it, letting him lead you toward the center of the ballroom. 

Another thing you suppose you should do if you’re really going to commit to this is apologize. You doubt anything will genuinely come of it on your part, but it’d be best to not have a marriage start off with bitterness in your heart if it does miraculously develop into something more.

Honestly you’d rather scream and kick than offer an apology you don’t entirely mean but.. What other option is there at this point? "Listen, I'm sorry for how cold I've been towards you. It's not due to any fault of your own, it's just.."You pause briefly, trying to think of how best to continue that line of dialogue, but Minho speaks up before you can.

“It’s just that you are being forced into a marriage you don’t want?" Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you desperately try to find a way to dismiss his accurate assessment. Were you that transparent? 'Of course you were, idiot,' you curse yourself. Maybe you should've practiced subtlety.

"I get it. You aren’t the only one unhappy about this,” he continues, further surprising you. He chuckles at your shocked expression, amusement in his voice. “What, is that hard to believe?”

"I.. I guess I just assumed everyone is here because they want to be. It didn’t occur to me that you would be in a similar situation to myself,” you answer truthfully. Maybe you would have realized sooner if you hadn't been so stuck in your ways, so quick to ignore and dismiss every suitor that came close to you. 

“I don’t blame you for thinking that. I’m sure most of the men are here because they want to be. I consider myself an outlier,” Minho speaks nonchalantly, but now that you are really looking at him, you can tell he is just as unhappy to be forced into this as you are. You also get the impression that he’s good at keeping a cool exterior, likely due to years of experience at suppressing his actual desires, the same as you.

“Is there someone else? Someone you love, back at home?” you ask, and Minho smiles sadly as he nods. “There is. They mean the world to me. I asked them to wait for me, I told them I wouldn’t leave them but.. I don’t know what will happen, if I'm being honest.” He tries to mask how upset he is to admit that, but you can see it.

Maybe you’d be as oblivious to it as everyone else seemed to be if you weren’t dealing with similar emotions. You feel a strange sort of kinship with him now, realizing how parallel your situations seem to be. “I’ll make sure you can be reunited. I may not have much power as it stands now, but I can do that at least.”

Minho smiles at your reply, but shakes his head, as if your act of kindness would be futile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it would only be temporary. I’m sure even if I don’t marry you, my father will just send me off to another castle to find a spouse. It’s all he cares about.”

You frown, about to speak reassurances or some other comforting statement, but he stops you before you can. “What about you, Princess? Is there someone you love?” Minho asks, easily shifting the focus off of himself. 

You hesitate a moment, debating on whether it would be wise for you to talk about. But, Minho already shared with you even if it could be a risk for him to admit, so.. You decide to be honest. “There is. He.. is the best person I've ever known.” 

“I thought so. Not to sound overconfident, but most women fall at their feet for a chance to speak with me,” Minho smirks and you laugh, the first genuine laugh you’ve had all evening. “Well, you are handsome. I may love someone else, but I’m not blind.” Your reply makes Minho laugh as well, the conversation turning into something you can actually enjoy.

“It’s good to know the Princess isn’t rejecting me for my looks. I can sleep assured about my handsome features tonight,” he jokes, and if you weren’t in public you’d most certainly slap him on the arm. You didn't expect his personality to be what it is, but you suppose that's one of the charms that draws people to him.

“The person you love– do they know how you feel?” He asks after a beat, and you frown, trying not to let too much emotion out as you speak. “I’ve never told him, nor my parents. I’ve wanted to, but.. I’m scared he won’t return my feelings, and.. He was born a commoner. People won’t approve of that.” Unconsciously, your gaze shifts away from Minho and turns towards Chan. 

Minho notices, of course, and follows your gaze, seeing the way Chan is overtly staring at the pair of you dancing. Oh, he is in love with you, if the way he’s staring daggers into Minho is any indication. He almost wants to laugh at how oblivious you seem to be about it, but he also sympathizes.

He was there once– afraid to confess, afraid of what the reaction would be. And even now he’s still afraid of how his father will react if he ever confesses to his hidden relationship, so he’d be a hypocrite to tell you to not worry about it. 

But at the very least, he can be on your side. He can be a friend, an encouraging presence, a person who understands what you are going through. “I think you should tell him how you feel. Even if things don’t turn out how you hope, at least you tried. I think that’s better than having never tried at all, and living with regrets.” 

Honestly, he hopes you do confess your feelings, because he feels like he might burst into flames any second if your knight keeps staring at him with fire in his eyes. He’s so obvious, Minho isn’t sure how everyone else seems oblivious to it. But maybe he only recognizes that look in his eyes because he was there himself not too long ago, when others made advances on the person he loves most. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you contemplate Minho’s words. What is better? Accepting your fate as it is now and never telling a soul how you feel about Chan, or confessing your feelings and experiencing what it’s like to openly love Chan, only to have it ripped away from you when your family doesn’t approve? You really don’t know.. 

“Hey, if it doesn’t work out, maybe we do get married and act as each other’s cover,” he says jokingly, hoping it can make you feel comforted to some degree once he notices you being trapped in thought about what to do next. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you say with a small laugh, “Though if there is anyone I’d choose to be in a fake marriage with, it’d have to be you.”

Honestly, despite the unorthodox way it came to pass, it felt good to talk about your feelings for Chan. You didn’t have anyone to talk to about them, always keeping them completely to yourself. And you felt like you had a real friendship with Minho blossoming, one that could be maintained for years to come. “I enjoy your company. Platonically, of course,” you say with a smile. 

“As do I, Princess,” he smiles back, “Want to cheer to a good friendship?” “Let’s!” You say enthusiastically, letting your dance come to a close and allowing him to lead you to toast refreshments. 

If there was ever a time in Chan’s life he wishes he could disregard everything he’d ever been taught about rules and decency, it was now. He’s never felt so bitter in his entire life, the first time he’s ever felt spiteful at the unfairness of his situation. 

“Thank you for talking to her, she looks to be enjoying herself much more now,” the queen says with delight as she leans towards Chan, ensuring that he hears her thanks. All it does is effectively rub salt into his open wound.

“..Yes, she does,” Chan says, having to put effort into sounding anything other than gutted. The jealousy sizzling in his veins, envious desire stuck like bile in his throat.

He knows you well enough to know what a genuine smile looks like on you. He recognizes your body language, can see all the minute and subtle changes. It makes him physically ill, watching you be so happy with a man he knows you are likely to marry. Chan knew he was selfish, but he never realized how jealous he was capable of being. 

It was a luxury he didn’t realize he had– never having to see you in the arms of someone else. Sure, it was bound to happen, and he assumed he would be devastated when it inevitably occurred, but this? This all encompassing jealousy, this unadulterated greed– he doesn’t know how to process it, he doesn’t know how to calm himself down or mask it.

A realization zaps him suddenly, shocking his system as the feeling settles over him. He can’t let you go, he can’t put his feelings aside the way he thought he could. He’s not as strong as he thought he was, not as mature or as reasonable as he always thought himself to be. He can’t watch you be with someone else and be okay. If this is how he reacts to a situation so small, how will he feel when you actually marry?  

He’s fucked. Truly, unequivocally fucked.

His body and mind scream at him to act, to do something, do anything, but what is there for him to try? What can he do that isn’t hopeless? No, even if it is hopeless, even if it doesn't change a single thing, he has to regardless. That’s what every nerve in his body screams at him– if there was ever a time for him to conjure his bravery and win you over, it was now.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the night's festivities finally draw to close, eager to finally relax after hours of dancing and talking. Minho made the night more bearable at least; it was much easier to get through the evening when you had a friend to cling to and keep a good deal of your other suitors at bay. As soon as you finished bidding your goodbyes to the guests that were in attendance, you rushed over to Chan so he could finally lead you back to the privacy of your room.

“Princess.. I’m sure you’re tired, but can you wait for me here for a bit..?” Chan asks, hoping the nerves he feels aren't being conveyed in his voice or facial expression. You tilt your head, slightly confused but agreeing anyways. You really have no reason not to after all, especially if it’s a request from Chan of all people. He smiles and thanks you, running off quickly while promising he wouldn’t take too long.

You stand in the center of the ballroom alone, wondering what on earth Chan is having you wait here for. He could also get in trouble for leaving you alone here without anyone to watch over you, but whatever he has planned must be worth the risk he’s taking.. Is he trying to make sure no one is going to come back so that the two of you can dance together?

The thought makes you excited if you're being honest– you always love dancing with Chan, but you hadn't had many opportunities to after he began training to be a knight. And you’d happily do so if he wanted to, even if your feet were screaming at you from exhaustion.

You also have to admit, you enjoy the idea that after watching you dance all day, Chan wanted to have one with you too, even if it had to be once the event was over and within privacy. You wait as patiently as you possibly can, watching the doors to the ballroom, eagerly waiting for them to open.

And when they do, and your eyes fall on Chan entering dressed in what is possibly the most beautiful suit you've ever seen, your heart feels like it's going to burst. "You stayed," he smiles as he steps closer, his dimples on full display. His unruly hair that normally falls over his face has been tamed enough to show his features more clearly, the full extent of his handsome face on display just for you.

“C-Chan, you– I, wow, you look–” You try to speak but you stumble over your words, his beauty leaving you even more speechless when viewed up close. It really is the most beautiful suit you've ever laid eyes on. Or maybe you only think so because he is the one wearing it? Either way, he looks so incredibly handsome that you feel almost dazed, your brain quickly malfunctioning as you stare at him.

Truthfully, he had to save his salary for months to afford a suit this nice. You lived in a world of extravagant gowns and beautiful jewelry, and he knew that if he ever got the chance to dance with you again, he wanted to look like he belonged with you– even if it was just this one time. You don't care about aesthetics, he knows that, but it's still something he wanted to do. Looking at him the way you are now, he knows it was all worth it.

He always wanted to belong in your world, to look like someone that a princess could be with. Soon enough, you’ll have to decide which of your suitors to marry, and on that day he will lose you. If this is the last opportunity he has to share a dance with you, then he wants to make the most of it. Even if it's just for this short moment, he'd like you to see him as something more than a friend or knight.

He wants to live in a bubble where it’s just you and him, where he can show you the side of himself he always wanted you to see. A bubble where only the two of you exist, where everything but each other is background noise. His every moment, all he sees is you, and he wants to be the only one you see in turn. No one in your eyes but him, his every word hanging in your ears and gesture embedding in your heart.

He will allow himself this final selfish act before he lets you go, before he has to bury his feelings and lock them away for good. He will dance with you not as your best friend, your knight, or your student who is still learning the steps, but as a man in love with his princess. 

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Chan asks, smiling up at you as he bows, holding out his hand to you. You feel like your brain is short circuiting, all dance etiquette and rules leaving your mind as you stare at him. Your face has turned bright pink and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, but you manage to nod and let your hand reach for his. How will you even survive this dance when he’s smiling at you like that while looking so devastatingly handsome? 

Despite the glaring fact that all your knowledge is lost on you as he holds you closer, he leads you through your daze well. Humming melodies with his beautiful voice while he guides you through the steps– you feel like you’re in a dream. He’s looking at you so intently, smiling so charmingly between melodies, you feel like you’re melting. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion you’ve never seen on him before. 

No, that’s not true. You have seen it. Fleetingly, in quick moments where it would flash on his features, a moment so small you’d miss it if you blinked. Moments like now, where it was just the two of you, free to be yourselves, to talk and laugh and dance with no restriction. Every time you noticed that look in his eyes, his expression would change in an instant, or he’d turn his face away and not let your eyes linger on it. 

Affection? Care? Love? Is that the feeling that shows on his face when he looks at you? Is love the emotion that always makes him smile bashfully before he looks away from you? The one you sometimes catch, but is gone before you can really commit it to your memory? This is the first time you’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing it on his face for more than a few seconds, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. 

All you can do is stare as he leads you through the dance, the entirety of his being capturing your undivided attention. A shyness bubbles underneath the surface, neither of you used to staring at one another so overtly, but you couldn’t possibly turn your gazes away. You decide that if you did somehow fall asleep at some point and this is a dream, that you’ll enjoy it for all its worth. 

You don’t know how he feels about you, really. At best you can guess, you can hope, but there’s no way for you to truly know. But what you do know is how you feel about him, and that’s enough, you think. It’s enough to make this moment the most special you’ve ever shared. It’s enough to lift up the shattered fragments of your heart and reconstruct them into something beautiful and new.

Does he love you as much as you love him? Regardless of the answer, you’ll never forget how you feel right now. A love beyond words, a happiness that transcends everything else. 

Chan, who was feeling confident until now, begins to feel a stutter in his heart. He wanted to impress you, to show you the most ideal side of himself, to make you see him, really see him, in the way he desired to be seen. But now that you are looking at him with such ardor in your eyes, with his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck, he feels like his heart could burst.

Was he once again naive to think he could put his feelings to rest after this? Foolish to believe that this moment would be enough for him to part from you satisfied with what little he had? 

Yes, he definitely was. Because the way you look at him now, he knows he can never go back to how things were before. He will want to see it again and again, paired with your sweet smile and cute mannerisms. Again, he realizes he's selfish. He doesn’t want you to look at anyone else this way, to give anyone else your affection, to smile at them the way you do at him. For better or worse, you’ll be there, in every thing he does and in every thought he has. 

Most selfish of all, he wants to kiss you so badly, to claim you as his. He wants to pull you even closer, to feel your warmth against him, to tell you that you are all he ever has, and ever will see. It’s always been you that lights up his world, always been you that gives fire to his ambitions, always you that makes his heart race and palms clam up. Since he was a child, for as long as he can remember until now, you were his everything. You became his world, everything he does revolving around you, forever drawn to you.

Before he can stop himself, his lips are on yours, connecting with you in the way he’s always dreamed of. There’s no time for him to rationalize his choice or scold himself for giving in to his selfishness. Chan has always been weak when it comes to you, after all. Unconsciously, his hands hold you a bit tighter, though he himself is unsure whether that’s because he’s afraid to let you go or because it just feels right to have you in his grasp while he kisses you.

You blink in surprise, time feeling like it has slowed to a complete stop. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you, your brain desperately trying to catch up with reality and make sense of its own racing thoughts. When Chan pulls back, you can see a panic forming in his eyes, apologies lingering on his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have, I–” 

You pull him back to you before he can continue to ramble, continuing the kiss he started. He can’t regret this, can’t second guess letting the moment take him over; you won’t let him. You want to be lost with him, enveloped in his embrace and consumed by his touch, damn the consequences. You don’t care who catches you, you don’t care about what punishment either of you could receive; this is all you’ve ever wanted for so, so long. 

And maybe you should care, maybe you should stop him, stop yourself, but you refuse. If pushing him away is right, then you’d rather be wrong. His world may revolve around you, but yours revolves around him just as much. You can’t live without him, can’t bear to be apart from him. You want to stay with him, even if it causes everything else around you to crumble. 

You’re both breathless by the time you separate, his eyes searching over your face desperately for any sign of hesitation, because once he really has you, he’s never letting you go. “Princess, Y/N, I–” He pauses, words lodged in his throat, but his eyes convey everything. You see it, the clearest that you ever have.

“Do you love me?” You ask, watching intently as his face heats up all the way to his ears. “Please tell me. I love you, and I need to hear you say you love me too,” you all but plead, watching him swallow as he tries to conjure the words he wants to say.

He kissed you, so he can’t really deny it, but admitting it could make life even more difficult for you. Chan knows you well enough to know you’ll fight against your parents wishes, that you’d abandon your life here if it called for it, but can he let you do that? 

This is the last chance he has to listen to reason and walk away, his last chance to bury his emotions down deep, his last chance to use even just a modicum of self control.. But no, that's not what he wants to do.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. That’s all he’s ever been with you, and maybe all he ever will be. Because as much as he logically knows he should let you go, he just can’t. Because the thought of anyone other than him kissing you fills him with dread. Because even if it makes your reality harder, it’s still all he wants. 

All along, his answer has been there. He can’t turn away from you, and you won’t let him. Both of you are stubborn in your wants, both of you pulling to each other like magnets, unable to be drawn apart. That’s what makes you perfect for him, he supposes.

You're both a pair of reckless fools, willing to throw everything away for the other person. How can his answer be any different, especially when you’re looking up at him like this? Desperate to hear his answer, desperate to be loved by him and him alone. 

“I love you. I always have, from the very beginning,” Chan confesses, “I know it’s wrong, I know I’m not supposed to love you, and I’ve tried to hold it back but.. I can’t stand watching from the sidelines anymore, I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. I love you, and I want to be the one who spends his life with you.”

‘I’m not supposed to love you.’ You hate that he had that thought, but you understand why. No matter how close you became, even when he never treated you any differently from anyone else, he wasn’t oblivious to your difference in station. Neither of you ever let your circumstances affect your friendship, but that didn’t mean the difference between you wasn’t still there. 

He recognized long ago that someone of his birth wasn’t meant to be with a princess, and he tried his best not to let his feelings for you show. You understood now too, why he became your knight despite all that it meant. Because he loved you, and that was the only way he could guarantee he would always be beside you. If he couldn't be your husband, that was the next best thing. 

"If there is anyone in this world who deserves to marry me, it's you. It's always been you, I've never wanted anyone else," you say with full sincerity. There’s no one else you would ever pick, no one else you’d ever give your life to. No matter how much time passes, how your life changes and how far apart you may end up, the love you have for your best friend, your knight, will always remain.

He kisses you again, with all his love and affection poured into it. Years worth of repressed feelings bubbling to the surface like a wellspring. His self restraint dissolves, kissing you over and over again as if his life depends on the repetition of the action. He holds you tightly, squeezing you closely to him, in a gesture that is as full of desire as it is love.

You’re both breathless when he finally allows you to separate, lips swollen and red from the continued use. You lost track of time, having no idea how much or how little the minutes have passed. All you know is Chan’s all encompassing presence, and finally knowing the feeling of his lips against yours.

You don’t want the night to end here, you realize. You don’t want to return to your room and carry on tomorrow as if this never happened. You don’t want to pretend that you’re not impossibly in love with him, you don’t want to pretend you don’t know how his body feels pressed against yours, or how it feels to have his lips on you.

“Take me to your room, Channie,” you plead, and he swallows, your request making his heart race impossibly fast. The majority of knights live in barracks, but as a royal knight in charge of the princess’ protection, his room lies close to yours, separated only by a few halls.

But despite the relatively close proximity, you’ve never actually been to Chan’s room before due to the risk. Even with your friendship being apparent, going directly to his quarters and staying for a prolonged time ran the risk of spreading untoward rumors. 

For royalty, their reputation is of the utmost importance, and while you didn’t care what people said behind your back, it was still something you had to be careful of for the sake of Chan himself. Even if you could easily recover from rumors, Chan wouldn’t be afforded that same luxury– it would undoubtedly follow him everywhere.

And this led to him often being in your room, using the pretense of his knighthood to enter your space and have private conversations and talk like friends, the way you did before he became your knight. But that was always during the daytime, and with other knights still standing out in the hall.

If those same knights saw him enter your room with you during the night, and not come back out until morning, it would certainly raise suspicions. Really, no matter what the two of you do tonight, there is risk, the probability of consequences you can’t come back from higher than it’s ever been.

“Are you sure..?” He asks, clearly worried about what could happen as a result. He wants to be with you, of course he does, but if it’s found out you stayed with him in his room for an entire night, the consequences wouldn’t be pretty. He needs to know you understand that, needs to know you want to be with him regardless of what could happen afterwards. You nod, resolve clear as you hold his hand tighter.

You were aware of the risks, but your love for him outweighed the concern. If anyone wanted to question you about being away from your room during the night, you had the confidence you needed now to fight for what you want. Now that you know he returns your feelings, you won’t let anyone get in the way of keeping you together, you’ll fight for it with all you have. And besides that, you're a princess. You were raised with the belief that the world was in the palm of your hands, so shouldn't you be allowed to have the things you want?

“I’ve thought about this a million times, Chan, I’m sure,” you tell him. Nothing will deter you from being with him– not anymore. “A million times, huh?” He teases with a smile as he pulls you along with him to exit the ballroom, his playful side coming back out as he leads you out to the hall and in the direction of his room. “Shut up,” you smile shyly as you slap his arm, a blush creeping across your face.

You have to suppress the giggle that threatens to leave you as you wind the halls together, a nostalgic sort of feeling welling in you despite this being the first time you are sneaking to his room like this. You snuck him into so many spaces, always sharing fond moments with him in secrecy, and really this is just an extension of that. 

The roles may be reversed in this instance, but the way you hold each other's hand and smile at each other is the same. The way you speak in hushed voices, the way you contain your gleeful giggles and the way you look at each other with pure joy, it's all the same.

When you reach his room, he ushers you in the door first, following behind swiftly and locking the door behind himself. “Just a moment,” he speaks softly as he moves carefully past you, lighting the candles he has on his nightstand. You use the dim light to survey your surroundings (as much as is possible, anyways,) taking note of all the things that make his space different from yours. 

Chan watches you with subtle amusement; his room really isn’t anything special, but you’re looking around it as if it’s the most interesting thing you could ever see. (And to be fair, it is a stark contrast from the luxurious space you’re used to living in.) His space, while decently sized, still pales in comparison to the size of your room. His furniture is much less exuberant in style, and bed significantly smaller than your own. But you like it better that way, you think– it feels homey. 

There’s a moment of silence that follows, not necessarily awkward, but rather hesitant as you turn your attention back to Chan. He’s sitting on his bed, looking incredibly handsome even in the dim candle light. Or did that add to it? You aren’t really sure. All you really know is that the way the subtle illumination and shadows frame his face makes your stomach twist. He really is way too handsome for his own good. 

Cautiously, you sit next to him, taking his appearance in more closely (despite the way it makes your heart feel like it’s going to implode.) He looks at you as well, taking you in just as attentively. Now that he can freely gaze at you without restriction, he wants to commit you to his memory. He wants to know your every blemish, every freckle and every line. 

You’re so impossibly beautiful– you could appear to him covered in grime and wearing tattered rags and he’d still think you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Has he ever told you that? No, he doesn’t think he has. Every time he was awed by you, he’d look away before you could notice his blatant stare, never commenting outwardly on how incredible he thought you were. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Chan asks tentatively, eyes full of eager trepidation. It may be beyond his capabilities to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he can show you. You nod, a small "yes" leaving your lips. His hands seek you out first, resting themselves on your waist before he kisses you again.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss, one that leaves you full of butterflies. All the romance novels you read couldn't have prepared you for how it actually feels to be in the moment, for how it feels to have his hands holding you firmly as he kisses you. 

You want to move without restriction, you want to feel him closer, want to feel his touch on your bare skin. You separate, Chan watching you curiously as your face heats up in preparation for what you intend to ask. “Help me take off my dress?”

“W-What?” Chan stutters, bright red blush traveling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Did he hear you correctly? He’s certainly mistaken, right? “I-I mean, unless you think I should keep it on for the rest of the night..?” 

“N-No, right, of course not,” he says, swallowing as he watches you rise from the bed. He follows, hands trembling as watches you turn your back to him, waiting for him to help you untie your corset. He reaches out slowly, untying it as carefully as he can despite his shaking hands. 

The layers of your dress follow rather quickly after that, eager to get all the extra weight off your body and allow yourself to feel Chan's touch directly. It's not until you're at the final layer that you feel shyness creep back on you, Chan's hand stilling on your shoulders as his own nerves pick up as well. 

When he pulls it down, you'll be strictly in your underwear, the most exposed you've ever been to a man in your entire life. But as much as it makes you shy, it excites you almost equally as much. You turn around now, so that your back is no longer facing him. You cross your arms, placing your hands on top of his, looking up at his face as you guide his hands down your arms, pulling your dress down along with it.

He swallows, eyes following the path your hands lead him on, his face easily the hottest it's ever been in his entire life. You lower your arms once you are no longer able to guide his hands, letting the last piece of fabric fall to the floor around your feet. 

Fuck, he really should be looking at you respectfully, but it feels impossible. You are standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear, and you encouraged it, guided him to remove your clothing with your own hands. God, you're going to ruin him.

"Can I?" You ask as you rest your hands on his chest, the buttons of his suit easily within your reach, ready to undo them the moment he gives his approval. He does so easily, even helping you with the buttons and letting it fall to the floor the same way you did with your dress. 

You watch as he pulls the undershirt over his head, tossing it to the floor with everything else. Your eyes scan his torso, face heating up as you take in his toned physique. You assumed he was strong given his status, but you've never actually seen the proof of it until now. You'd be embarrassed for blatantly staring if not for the fact that he'd done the same to you just moments ago. It's only fair to stare at him as much as he stares at you– tit for tat, if you will. 

Chan's hands reach for his pants now, but he stops before he proceeds with removing them, looking at you as if to ask if it's okay with you before he does. Well, if the eager glint in your eye is anything to go by, you certainly want him to. He pulls them down easily after gaining your approval, kicking them off the rest of the way, (perhaps a bit unceremoniously, given the unprecedented circumstances,) not worrying at all about where they land.

You look at each other, an electric tension filling the space between you. The juxtaposition between the bashfulness and the desire leaving you temporarily stuck in place, a silent battle being waged between ‘should I act, or shouldn’t I?’

It’s typical for the man to make the first move in situations like this, isn’t it? But since when have you adhered to the stereotypical things that were expected of you? You hesitated before now out of fear– fear of what could happen to Chan and fear of your feelings being unrequited, but the minute he laid his feelings out for you, you decided there was no more time for fear, no time for hesitation. 

When you want something, you get it, and what you want right now more than anything is Chan, simple as that. You lay back on his bed now as if you own it, looking so relaxed, so assured, as you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for him to return to your side. Fuck, do you even know what you're doing to him?

He slots himself between your legs, his body weight pressing down on you when he lowers himself to kiss you again. Your torso falls back against the bed when you lift your arms to hold his face in your hands, not letting the kiss break and dragging him back with you. His hands travel up and down your sides, always stopping just under the line of the fabric containing your breasts. 

He pulls away from your lips, looking at you closely as he lets his thumbs under the fabric ever so slightly. He’s silently asking for permission again, you realize, searching your eyes for any semblance of hesitation or regret. There’s none to be found, of course– all you feel is desire, is love. You want this as badly as he does, undeniably so. 

He pulls it up slowly, carefully, and you lift your back off the bed, allowing him to take it off you completely. You watch him swallow as he stares down at you, taking in the unfamiliar sight of your exposed chest. He’ll never admit how many times he envisioned this moment in his mind, but the reality is much better than anything his mind could have conjured up. 

When Chan finally tears his eyes away to look at your face again, you offer him a smile, one that makes his heart stutter. It’s soft, yet completely radiant, and patient. There’s no need for you to rush him along, nor do you judge him for taking his time to look you over. When it’s something special, something you’ve both wanted for so long, with more intensity than you can express, why would you rush? It should be savored, with even the smallest of details committed to memory. 

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you for what feels like the millionth time. His hands cup your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms for the first time, squeezing (gently, of course,) every so often. When the calloused pads of his thumbs rub over your nipples for the first time, and you let out the most sinfully sweet noise he’s ever heard, he’s done for. 

He wants– no, needs, to hear it again. Again, and again, and again, all for him, only ever for him. The small, soft gasps, the shuddering breaths, the shiver that runs along the entirety of your body when he touches you– it’s addictive, so terribly addictive. “Channie–” you whine into his mouth, and he has to suppress the groan that threatens to leave his throat in response.

“Again,” he says as he begins to trail kisses beneath your ear and down the expanse of your neck, “Say my name again.” You oblige his request easily, each small whine turning into a soft moan of his name.

Your voice, so dovelike, its sweetness all encompassing, commandeering all his senses. His hands travel lower, rubbing over the plush territory of your thighs, his fingers always coming dangerously close to your center before being taken away.  

He chuckles when you huff, a small pout on your lips that he finds adorable. He doesn’t mean to tease, but he has to admit he likes the reaction it grants him. “What’s wrong, darling? I didn’t think you were so impatient,” Chan says with an amused tilt in his voice, because at the end of the day, beneath all the shyness and desire that was at the forefront, he is still the playful person he’s always been. 

“Don’t be mean, Channie,” you all but grumble, your pout growing larger. It’s not like you’re trying to rush anything, it’s just.. He knows what he's doing, and he’s doing it on purpose! Making you all needy for his touch, being so close to where you want him but not actually granting it to you. 

He smiles, that dazzling one that makes your stomach twist, confirming that he does indeed know he’s tormenting you on purpose. “Apologies, my love. You’re just so cute when you pout.” You would definitely punch him if the statement didn’t make butterflies erupt in your gut. “Chan, please,” you shamelessly whine, and oh, how that instantly turns the tables back in your favor.

He’ll do anything for you, whatever you ask, everything he can offer, it’s yours. You realize that, don’t you? That even if he teases, even if he pretends he’s fine and not completely and utterly enamored by you, he can never actually resist you. “Tell me what you want, Princess. Anything you want, it’s yours. Anything.” 

“I-I–” you start, but quickly stumble over your words. The way he’s looking at you, waiting with bated breath for your answer, eyes eager and so willing to give you his all– it sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, willing your racing heart to calm so you can speak properly. “I want.. To feel you. Inside me.”

Chan’s breath catches in his throat, cock twitching unceremoniously in response. He wants to, it’d be pointless to pretend he doesn’t, but.. “Are– are you sure?” he asks, the question laced with genuine care despite how eager he is for you to say yes. He wants to care for you, wants to make love to you, to claim you as his in the sweetest of ways, but he doesn’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for. 

Even if your confessions were a long time coming, even though there was years worth of yearning and desire, it’s still a lot to entrust yourself to someone like that. To trust them wholeheartedly, to grant them such pleasure and believe that they’ll take care of you in return.

And he needs to know that you understand the risks and the changes it will bring, and you aren’t saying it out of some spur of the moment obligation to please him. Because he’ll be happy, no matter how long he has to wait.

“Channie,” you place your hands on his face, forcing his eyes to stay locked on your own, “I love you so much. I want to do this with you.” You can feel his face heat up under your fingers, but he smiles– one that is shy, but at the same time full of unfiltered joy. Chan leans down to kiss you once more, showing you all the love and care that he can’t express with his words. 

His hands resume their original path, tracing up and down your thighs for a few moments before he finally hooks his fingers into your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, not with the intent to tease you this time, but because he knows when he finally sees what is waiting for him underneath the fabric his heart is going to beat out of his chest. 

You adjust your legs position to make the removal easier, watching Chan with nervous excitement. It is scary, you admit, being so exposed and vulnerable in front of someone else, but there is no one else in the world you trust more. No one but Chan makes you feel this safe and secure, and he’s shown you over and over how much love he carries for you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he admits for the first time aloud. Would it be cliche to compare you to a goddess? Maybe, but that’s the only thing that comes even remotely close to conveying how alluring he thinks you are. More radiant than even Aphrodite herself, with even the wonders of the world paling in comparison to you. “Gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

You watch him bring his hands to his own underwear, slipping them off with relative ease before settling himself comfortably between your legs. “I need to get you ready, okay darling? And then I promise, I’ll give you everything you want,” Chan speaks softly and you nod, entrusting yourself to him completely. 

He’s never done this before, so he follows his instinct, doing whatever feels right in the moment. His fingers rub carefully between your folds, spreading around the wetness that accumulated there. Your breathing halts when the pads of his fingers press against your hole, body tingling with overwhelming desire. Slowly, carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside.

The sensation is unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant– in fact, the back and forth motion of his finger as it slides in and out quickly begins to draw soft whimpers from your lips. Soon enough, he’s adding a second finger, watching how they disappear in you with an almost mystified gaze. He can’t believe how snug you feel around his fingers, how wet and warm and fuck, he can’t even begin to imagine how good it’s going to feel around his cock. 

“Ah-!” you gasp loudly when, after some exploration, his fingers find a bundle of nerves that makes every nerve in your body erupt in pleasure. Your head falls back against his pillows, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the slew of loud noises that threaten to leave you everytime he rubs over it again. 

His fingers pump in and out at a steady pace now, not too fast as to overwhelm you, but enough to have stars constantly erupting in your vision. Your hands tightly grip the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and knot tightening in your gut unbelievably fast. Chan’s name leaves your mouth over and over between breaths and whines, like a looped mantra, the salacious melody you create music to his ears.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud whimpers and moans that rip through you as you come undone on Chan’s fingers. Would it be sacrilegious to call your noises heavenly when the reason for them is so sinful? He wishes more than anything he could hear them unfiltered, to allow them to flow freely from your lips without a care in the world about the volume and who could hear them. 

He slowly stills his fingers as you come down from your high, taking in the sight of you and memorizing every detail. The rise and fall of your chest as you catch your breath, the rosy tint of your cheeks, the beads of sweat that linger on your brow, all coming together to create an ethereal image. 

Chan plants soft kisses on your face as he gently slides his fingers out of you, complimenting you on how pretty you sound and beautiful you look. "Channie–" you start, and he smiles, knowing exactly what you intend to whine about. "Don't worry, my love. I'll keep my promise."

He takes his fingers, still wet with your release, and rubs them up and down his length, mixing his pre-cum with it along the way. As you watch you realize that his cock is much bigger than his fingers, and you wonder how it'll fit when just two fingers alone already felt like so much. 

“Are you ready?” Chan checks in with you when he’s lined up with your entrance, ready to stop at a moment's notice if you decide this is too much too soon. He can see the subtle worry beneath the anticipation, notices the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he presses against you. It's true, you are nervous, but not enough so to make you change your mind. So you nod, and he moves one of his hands to yours, intertwining your fingers. 

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I'll go slow,” Chan assures you, placing a soft kiss on your temple before he begins. There’s a sharp intake of breath from you when he slowly begins to push inside, the sting being much more intense than you had anticipated. It goes beyond the discomfort you expected, eyes squeezing shut and your grip on his hand tightening. 

The minute Chan feels you squeeze his hand tighter, he pauses just as promised. You open your eyes after a moment, looking up at Chan to try and push the sting to the back of your mind. He's breathing heavily, brows knit together in a combination of pleasure and concern, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

It takes all his self control to not get lost in the sensation around him, needing to make sure he takes care of you properly. He can't hurt you, can't lose himself before making sure you'll feel good too, needs to put you above all else. 

"Do you need me to stop?" he asks, and you quickly shake your head no, expressing again how much you want to be connected with him in every way possible. Leaning down now, he kisses you until the discomfort subsides, whispering sweet words to you when he resumes the push, praising you over and over again until he's completely within you. 

You're still squeezing his hand, not due to any pain or discomfort this time, but to ground yourself through the overwhelming sensation of Chan being deep inside you. He continues kissing you softly, going above and beyond to ensure that you're relaxed and comfortable. "Love you so much Channie," you tell him, and he smiles sweetly, heart so full of adoration and infatuation for you. 

“Love you more,” he kisses you, ”so much,” another kiss, “never letting you go.” You giggle softly between his kisses, his words making your heart flutter. After graciously accepting a bit more of his doting, you soon notice that no trace of the initial sting or discomfort remains. In fact, being so full of him feels good, your body unconsciously seeking friction. 

“Channie, I’m ready now, want you to move, please,” you beg with such a soft and cute voice, he knows there is no way he can resist. Well, not that he would ever deny you what you want in the first place. With one last kiss, and reassuring squeeze to your hand, he finally allows himself to move. 

Slowly, as gently as he can, he pulls out, pressing back inside in one fluid motion when only the tip remains, repeating the action through shaky breaths and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Even with the languid pace, it's enough to drive him insane. Every detail of you, from the way you look, the way you sound, the way you feel wrapped around him, so snug and warm and inviting– it’s intoxicating. 

Chan’s arms reach beneath you, hooking under your back and hands holding your shoulders, keeping your body closely pressed against his own. His face is buried in your neck, low groans beneath your ear, for you and you alone to hear. You make your own effort to keep him close as well; one hand tangling in his curly hair and the other tightly gripping his bicep.

He’s going slow, not just for your sake, but for his own. Because if he doesn’t he’s going to blow, because he wants to live in this moment for as long as he possibly can, because being close to you like this is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re his, finally his, and he wants it to last, wants to indulge in the feeling and the emotion of being your chosen lover. 

It takes him a few tries to find the spot that makes you see stars with just his cock, but he knows he’s found it when you (unwittingly) let out a loud moan, nails digging into his skin and eyes rolling back. He picks up his pace now, chasing the sound of your pleasure-filled voice, wanting to hear you call his name over and over again.

He kisses you again when your combined noises begin to grow in pitch, muffling one another in a desperate attempt to keep the sounds of pleasure confined to the 4 walls of Chan’s room. You want to be quiet, you know you should be, but you truly can’t help it. But if he’s being honest, he likes that you can’t keep your voice down, likes that he’s making you feel so good that you can’t suppress it.

Chan is getting close now, and he pulls himself away from your lips, wanting to look at you once more before his approaching orgasm overtakes him. Even now, when you're breathless, cheeks red and hair sticking to your forehead due to the sweat, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

"Wanna cum in you," he manages to say between his low moans, “will you let me, please? Need to fill you up, need to make you mine forever, just like I'm yours."

Once again, your stomach flips, the words having an immense effect on you. "Y-Yes, yes, cum in me, I'm yours, only yours," you answer easily, wanting nothing more than to feel (and watch) him come apart because of you. His pace stutters following your permission, thrusts growing quick and sloppy as he chases his high, groans turning into drawn out whines. 

The faster pace sends you reeling, toes curling has the knot in your stomach tightens and snaps in quick succession. You pull Chan back down to you, kissing him deeply as you cum around his cock, both to muffle yourself and as a gesture of the all consuming love you feel for him. He lets out soft, desperate whimpers as he releases inside you, ropes of cum painting your walls white.

You both stay like that for a few moments– breathlessly wrapped in one another's embrace, sharing soft kisses as you come down from your highs, soft admissions of love leaving your lips. You wince when Chan’s softening length pulls out of you, feeling extremely sensitive following the loss of your virginity. 

Chan blows out the candles before he lays down next to you, leaving the moonlight coming through his window as the only illumination. He intended to pull you close to him, but he didn't have to– you snuggle up to him the moment you can, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his torso, legs tangling with his.

His racing heartbeat begins to slow, an extreme relaxation sweeping over his body. He closes his eyes, your soft breathing serving as his own personal lullaby. Carefully, he reaches his free arm out for his blanket, pulling it over to cover your nude bodies.

He’s nearly asleep when he hears you softly call his name, voice quiet but still loud and clear in his ears. “What is it, darling?” he asks as he opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at you. There’s a moment of silence that follows as you consider how best to voice what you want to say, but Chan is patient, looking at you with a soft gaze.

“Do you.. Think we can really get married?” You finally ask, and Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest when you do. He can hear the tremble in your voice so clearly, feels the way you hold him tighter as you wait for him to answer.

If he’s being truthful, he doesn’t know. It’s what he wants, what he hopes for more than words can express, but just doesn’t know. And it breaks his heart to see you like this– clearly vulnerable and unsure. You’ve always sought out Chan for comfort, but it’s different this time. Different because you now know the depths of love you both share, the desire to always be together and the fear that you’ll be driven apart.

You’ll fight for your love, of course you will, because there is no happiness to be had if Chan isn’t by your side. But you don’t want to have to fight for it, you don’t want either of you to suffer, you don’t want Chan to be driven away from you by people who don’t understand and don’t value him for who he is. You want your love to be accepted, to openly profess your love, to marry the only person you’ve ever had eyes for.

Tears are welling in your eyes, and he can see them even in the dim moonlight. “Y/N..” he uses his free arm to reach for your face, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall with his thumb. “I’m going to marry you. No matter what I have to do, I will,” Chan tells you, voice gentle but resolute. He meant it when he said he’s never letting you go, meant it when he said he’ll always be yours and always be beside you.

He doesn’t know what the future holds– if things will come easy for you both, or if you’ll have to fight tooth and nail just to be with each other. But he knows that no matter what the answer is, he will be with you. Whether in your toughest moments or happiest, he’ll be there. Holding your hand, giving you his love, sticking with you until the end of his days.

Whether it’s tomorrow, months, or even years from now, he’ll be your husband. You’ll be the one he shares his life with, the one he starts a family with, the one he sees every morning and every night. He’ll hold you close, starting your days with ‘I love you’s’ and ending them with the same, giving you all he has to give. 

“No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together, okay? I love you so much,” Chan says and you nod, a soft smile on your face as you wipe your eyes and lay your head back down against him. “Love you, Channie.” He kisses your head softly, urging you to relax, to fall asleep, and not worry about what could be, but indulge in what is.

Indulge in the love you share, the feeling of closeness as you lie together in his bed, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and his gentle reassurances. He’ll still be here when you wake up, will keep you in his arms, holding you close and making sure you know how much he adores you, how much he loves you. Because no matter what the future brings, you still have this moment. You still have each other.

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Lost the bet

Pairings: Topper Thornton x reader; Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Rafe and Topper make a bet.

Warnings: 18+ sex scenes are described so MINORS DO NOT interact. Cheating? unlikeable characters?

The summer had cast a relentless warmth upon the coastal town, and as your boyfriend, Topper, draped his arm casually over your shoulders, the heat seemed even more stifling. Across from you sat Rafe, his gaze a simmering mixture of intensity and tension. The trio was gathered around a weathered wooden table on the terrace, but the atmosphere was far from relaxed.

Topper and Rafe were locked in a heated discussion, a bet that revolved around surfing, and your gut instincts urged you to intervene. "Let's make it five hundred," Topper proposed, the words hanging in the humid air. Rafe's eyes remained fixated on you, a glance that stirred both heat and unease within you. You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of embarrassment as his gaze bore into your very core.

Then, without warning, Rafe's voice cut through the thick air. "Sex," he declared, his tone dripping with confidence. "If you win, you get five hundred, but if I win, I want sex." The unexpected proposition hung in the air, casting a palpable tension over the table. Kelce, a friend who had been listening in, couldn't help but burst into laughter. "A threesome, huh?" Topper quipped, a touch of unwillingness in his voice.

You felt compelled to voice your objections, but before you could interject, Topper and Rafe sealed the deal with a firm handshake. Desperation welled up within you. "Top, can I talk to you?" you implored, prompting a reluctant nod from him. The two of you retreated from the terrace, seeking a quieter corner to hash things out.

"What the hell, Topper?" you exclaimed, your frustration evident as you slapped his arm. "I can't believe you agreed to this."

"I'm not going to lose this," he retorted, an air of unwavering confidence in his tone.

"Calm down," he urged, though it was clear you were far from calm yourself. For the next ten minutes, you engaged in a passionate discussion about the value of women and relationships, your words aimed at conveying the sacredness of intimacy. Despite your heated exchange, you couldn't shake the sense of discomfort that had settled within you.

In the following days, you kept your distance from Topper. You refrained from wishing him good luck and gave him the cold shoulder, struggling to determine your course of action. Should you break up with him, unable to get over his lack of protectiveness of your intimacy with him? Or should you stay and to be alright with the result of the bet as the thought of Rafe's hunger-filled gaze haunting your thoughts?

That day, the inevitable call came. "I'm sorry, babe," Topper's voice was laced with worry, as if bracing for another round of your anger. "I tried to get him to accept money," he added, sounding somewhat defeated. "But he insists on the 'prize.'"

You took a deep breath and finally conceded, "Okay, fine." Silence hung on the line. "But it's all about you, babe," Topper assured, trying to alleviate your dread.

When the day arrived, Topper left the room momentarily, claiming he needed condoms from the bathroom. Left alone with Rafe, his darkened gaze and proximity intensified your unease. You had seen that look before, but this time, it held an entirely new meaning. "Are you okay with this?" he asked, leaning in close on the couch.

"Does it matter?" you responded with a shrug, downing your drink in a single gulp. He didn't back down, holding your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. His words hung heavily in the air, causing your heart to race. "So, Y/n, do you want my cock?" he asked, his voice thick with desire. Your breath hitched as his words stirred a hunger deep within you, an unprecedented longing.

"I need words," Rafe demanded, and you could only nod in response. "Yes, Rafe," you whispered, the tension in the room palpable. As his lips met yours, desire ignited, and you found yourself craving his touch more than ever.

You hadn't even noticed that Topper had returned, though you were too consumed by the escalating intimacy. "You guys started without me?" he remarked casually, reclining on the bed beside you. His hands began to explore beneath your shirt, planting kisses on your exposed skin. You felt a pang of guilt for the conflicting desires coursing through your body.

As the duo helped you undress, Topper's urgency was evident. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed wholly captivated by your naked form, and you couldn't help but feel a heady mixture of exposure and exhilaration. "I want a taste," Rafe declared, his desire evident in his gaze, while Topper sat nearby, his arousal evident, awaiting his own pleasure.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of sensations, your lips bitten in a futile attempt to stifle the peak of your pleasure. Rafe's ability to make you feel like you are about to cum so quickly reduced you to whimpers. "Please, Rafe," your voice trembling. But he responds not with words, but with his tongue against you.

"Are you going to cum for Rafe, babe?" Topper asks as he forces your hand which had slowed down as your pleasure increases. "Oh my god, RAFE," you moan as your legs quiver, Rafe persisting in his movements until your release.

Rafe rises from the floor, his imposing presence looming over your exposed form. Your hand instinctively reaches for his belt, a desire to reciprocate the pleasure. Topper's presences fades in your mind as you assist Rafe in removing his clothes. Your gaze fixates on his arousal, your fingers inching towards it with intention to provide satisfaction. However, he stops you. "So eager to please me," he murmurs, glancing towards Topper for the first time that evening. "You see how much she wants my cock, like a whore," he adds, a smile appearing on his face expecting to get his turn soon. Topper stood up from the bed. “So how do you want to do this?” Topper asked. Rafe stopped acknowledging Topper again. Instead he came in for a kiss again, and you felt your own arousal rise up in you again. The thought of him inside you, pleasuring you, fucking hard causing your shut legs to squeeze together. Rafe pushes them open again, allowing him to rub his cock against your wetness sending shivers down your spine as it was still sensitive. "Are you a good girl? Ready for my cock?" he rasps, to which your response is a whimper as he gradually eases into you. Though the initial discomfort sends twinges of pain, the ensuing union soon overtakes you in waves of pleasure.

The symphony of your shared passion inadvertently incites Topper's protest. "Hey man, the deal wasn't for you to have sex with my girlfriend," Topper interjects. Rafe's halt in movement causes a discontented moan from you. "Oh, I didn't realize you were so desperate for me. Would you prefer my dick inside you?" Rafe retorts sharply, the aching need within you causing you to reluctantly concur, "Top, just sit down. You'll get your turn," you sigh. Defeated Topper sat down on the ottoman.

You remain silent towards Rafe after experiencing three climaxes that night, a couple of days ago. It was a contrast from the meager satisfaction Topper typically offers. As you arrive at the country club where Rafe and Topper are enjoying beers on the terrace, you divert from your regular seat beside Topper, opting instead to settle beside Rafe. "Hey, Y/n," Topper greets you, "can you come sit here?" but Rafe's hand claims your thigh, hinting that he wishes you to remain where you are.

As the night progresses and the drinks keep flowing, Rafe's attentiveness towards you becomes increasingly more obvious. He whispers sensually in your ear, provoking Topper's growing discontent.  It was then that Topper couldn’t take it anymore, and asked to speak to you. The two of you retreat to a spot near the exit, reminded of your heated argument about the threesome just a week prior. Though your voices remain hushed, your table's view allows them to witness the exchange.

"You and Rafe look cozy," Topper sneers, to which you merely shrug. Deep down, you've already realized your hesitation to continue with Topper. However, you've postponed a breakup, fearing it may be driven by anger and filled with regret. "I don't get it, Y/n. You were so opposed against the threesome, yet you clearly loved being fucked by Rafe," Topper accuses, his tone filled with frustration. "That's not fair," you protest. "What's not fair is you being fucked by him and not wanting me," he retorts, prompting a scoff from you. "It's not my fault Rafe is some kind of orgasm god, okay?" you argue. His gaze narrows as it shifts between his friend and you. "He couldn't have been that good," he challenges, only to have you look him square in the eyes and declare, "Topper, I think we should break up." The message is clear in your stern gaze. "You're a goddamn whore!" Topper yells, a painful sting accompanying his words, and tears prickling your eyes.

"Do not talk to her like that!" Rafe's unmistakable voice cuts through the tension as he rushes to your defense. Topper warns him to stay out of it, but Rafe, driven by a surge of anger, delivers a punch that sends Topper staggering backward, groaning in pain.

"Jesus, Rafe!" you shrieked, your frustration reaching a boiling point. You couldn't contain your anger any longer, and it was directed at both of them. With a huff of exasperation, you turned your back on the two men and stormed off, your footsteps echoing your fury.

Let me know if anyone wants a part 2 or if it is better just like this.

[mikavlcs]

Rebels and Renegades

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: Becoming best friends with a sentient hand brings many much-needed changes to your life, the biggest being the very girl he arrived at Nevermore with.

Warnings: this is so stupid, reader is incredibly unserious, many attempts at comedy, TERRIBLE pacing, bad writing, cursing, this doesn’t correlate properly with the timeline of the show but idc

Word count: 6.6k (sorry, this got very out of hand...get it?)

Notes: this is trash but it’s fun so who cares. this is entirely for @clexa-is-forever aka thing’s biggest fan. despite my writer’s block, i still had fun writing this. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

If someone told you at the beginning of the school year that your best friend would be a sentient disembodied limb, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because you thought it would be too ridiculous or nonsensical, but because in your mind, it was far too interesting for what Nevermore Academy had to offer.

See, you were initially excited to transfer to Nevermore. To get away from the shallow depths of normie public school and be around people like you. But alas, it was too good to be true—or, maybe, you had gotten your hopes up too high.

Because it turned out that fantastical mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and sirens actually weren’t too dissimilar from their normie counterparts. They didn’t care about excitement or adventure or fun, they cared about partying and drinking and dating.

This duality created an atmosphere of contradictions. There were people with literal snakes for hair but also those stupid cliques of popular kids that liked to pick on people for no reason. Werewolves transformed into energetic beasts and prowled the woods together every full moon, but students’ biggest concerns were whom they were gonna ask to the school dance.

It was all strange and supernatural yet shockingly normal. And extraordinarily boring.

The disappointment you felt upon this discovery was immeasurable. It appeared that no matter how far you ran, you could never escape the clutches of adolescent desires and drama.

But there was nowhere else for you to go. This was it, your parents told you that definitively. So you resigned yourself to your fate and settled into life at Nevermore.

Months passed at a snail’s pace. Around the middle of the semester, a new student transferred in. Because nothing of substance happens, she was the talk of the town for a solid two weeks before her scheduled arrival, but you didn’t care.

You would admit that after finally seeing her, your interest was piqued. She certainly fit the murderer vibe. With her pallid complexation and dark eyes, she looked straight out of a black & white horror film, even complete with a black uniform instead of the standard purple (which you were so jealous of).

Temptation pulled at your chest whenever you saw her, but you decided to leave her alone. This school had disappointed you enough, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to handle even more. The decision to keep your distance was made and instead, you let your imagination run wild without the probable barriers of reality to inhibit it. 

Little did you know that only one day after the new girl transferred in, she inadvertently changed the course of your life at Nevermore forever. 

Advanced Gorgon Sciences, your last class of the day, had just ended and you were wandering campus wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You were contemplating going into Jericho when something smacked your cheek.

Pausing, you glanced down and found the offending object to be a small pebble. You followed its rough trajectory up to a ledge on your left and saw something scurrying across it. Against, your nonexistent better judgment, you moved closer and…

You blinked once, then twice, narrowed your eyes.

It was a hand—literally just a hand, cut off at the wrist but still scuttling and scurrying around with no problem.

So, you were definitely losing your mind. Honestly, it was about damn time.

Having nothing better to do, you decided to lean into the madness and approach the hand. At the sound of your footsteps, it turned and…looked at you? You weren’t sure, but it acknowledged your presence with a friendly wave.

You waved back, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you hoisted yourself up to sit on the ledge.

Once you were up, you saw that the hand was fiddling with a makeshift slingshot, struggling to simultaneously keep it upright while loading and aiming it. His plight was fairly obvious and considering his circumstance, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Abandoning the slingshot, the hand crawled over to you and started tapping insistently. It took much more brain power than it ought to for you to realize that he was trying to speak to you.

“Sorry, I don’t understand…that,” you apologized with a grimace. But an idea came to mind a moment later. “Can you write?”

The hand gave you a thumbs up. You dug around your backpack and pulled out a notebook along with a pen, flipping it open to an empty page and slid it over, setting the pen down on top. He picked up the pen and got to work, pushing the notebook back toward you a minute later.

Curious, you looked at the messy scrawl below.

Sorry, was aiming for the guy behind you.

You nodded understandingly. “It’s fine. Could I ask why you’re launching pebbles at students?”

You waited once more as he scribbled his answer and peered down when he pushed the paper over.

For fun.

Again, you nodded. You could respect that.

“Well, do you mind if I join you?” you asked, nodding toward the slingshot. “I’d imagine it would be a lot easier to aim with an extra pair of hands. And the accompanying body,” you added awkwardly at the end, hoping it wouldn’t offend the little guy.

Thankfully it didn’t. He gave you an excited thumbs up, scuttling back over to the slingshot while you scooted over. While he loaded another pebble into the pouch, you scanned the area below for your next victim.

Your eye snagged on a vampire for no real reason other than the fact that he just kinda looked like an asshole.

You pointed to him below. “How about him?”

Thing gave you another thumbs up. Nodding, you held the slingshot in place while Thing drew the pebble back and let it fly.

The shriek that came from your victim almost made you blow your cover. You grabbed Thing and hurriedly crawled back to where you were both out of sight, barely containing your giggles. Once the coast was clear, you cracked, pitching forward with your laughter as Thing drummed his fingers against your arm in what you assumed was amusement.

“That was amazing!” You looked down at him, smirked. “Wanna do another one?”

He tapped your hand enthusiastically, making your smile widen.

Thus was the beginning of an amazing friendship. Well, amazing for you and Thing—not for the rest of Nevermore.

The two of you were a match made in hell. Together you brainstormed a plethora of good pranks to pull on unsuspecting students and teachers.

Putting spiders (fake or otherwise) in students’ lockers. Setting glitter traps on top of classroom doors so whichever unlucky soul walks through first gets showered in glitter. Slipping mentos into people’s sodas. Setting trip wires to watch people faceplant around campus and many more.

It was glorious. Your own personal reign of terror, even.

Principal Weems had her suspicions, but no matter how many times she tried to catch you in the act, you slipped through her fingers. And without proof, her hands were tied. So you and your companion were free to keep enjoying your schemes so long as you were discreet.

For the first time since you enrolled, days passed by in what felt like minutes, the personification of the saying time flies when you’re having fun.

Through it all, you often wondered where the little guy was when he wasn’t with you. You hoped that he wasn’t causing too much mischief without you. He was your partner in crime, after all.

Two weeks in, you decided to ask him at breakfast.

The two of you were at your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria. You were ranting about an upcoming Lycanthrope History test while Thing was launching the grapes you gave him to play with at nearby tables. After your rant, you finally gave in to your curiosity.

“So, what exactly are you doing at Nevermore? I know this place houses some strange students but, something tells me you’re not here to learn.”

He flicked a grape with precise aim, nailing a gorgon right on the forehead before giving you a series of taps. Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Babysitting? Babysitting who?”

Nothing could have prepared you for his answer.

“Wednesday Addams?!”

Your voice came out much louder than intended, turning a few heads around the cafeteria and making Thing jump. You didn’t care, plowing forward in your questioning.

“You’re ‘babysitting’ the school’s homicidal maniac?”

His stance straightened, his nonverbal tone somehow indignant as he corrected you.

You gave him a pointed look. “Attempted homicide isn’t much better, buddy.”

He seemed to contemplate flicking another grape, but seeing Miss Thornhill looking around, he chose not to. Instead, he drummed his fingers inquisitively at you, teasingly waggling his fingers at the end. You gave him another sharp look, insulted by his implication.

“Scared? What, no! This is amazing news,” you exclaimed. Then, an idea arose. “Hey, do you think she’d let us borrow any of her stuff for pranks?”

Thing mournfully shook his wrist. You let out a deep sigh, slumping over again. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve expected that answer.”

Wednesday didn’t really come up in conversation after that. You asked a few more times about her willingness to let you borrow her things, but after receiving the same answer, you gave up. Your paths had yet to cross, and you assumed that it would stay that way. But the universe seemed to have other plans.

The first time you formally met her was about a month after she transferred.

It was an appropriately cloudy day and you and Thing had just successfully completed a heist. You were in the Weathervane, both gushing over the fact that you had managed to steal fifteen scented lotions from Jericho’s local Bed, Bath & Body Works when a sharp voice interrupted you.

“So this is who you’ve been running off with these past few weeks.”

Both you and Thing flinched, looking up to see the Wednesday Addams staring down at you and your partner.

Offering a wave, you said, “Hey, Wednesday. Want a scented lotion?”

She ignored you completely. Her eyes barely scanned your figure before she was turning her full attention to Thing, her arms crossing over her chest in vindication.

“I knew you had to have an accomplice. You’re nowhere near nimble enough to properly set a trip wire by yourself.”

Thing slumped, obviously disheartened by the statement, but before you could defend his honor, your mind caught on something else.

“Wait…” You looked over at Thing, offended. “Have you been taking full credit for our pranks this entire time?”

Sheepish, Thing bowed, giving your hand an apologetic pat. You moved it away, crossing your own arms over your chest.

“Since this is your first offense, I’ll forgive you. But do it again and I’m keeping all of the profits from our future heists, got it?”

Thing jumped in alarm, tapping urgently. You smiled. “Good.”

Wednesday looked between you both, clearly unimpressed. You decided to take your shot again.

“You know, the lotion offer still stands.” You rifled through the lotions, taking note of their scents, and glanced back up with an apologetic look. “Though, we don’t have one that smells like stage 4 human decomposition, sorry.”

Again, she just stared blankly. You swore you saw her eye twitch but still, she said nothing and glared at Thing.

“Be back at the dorm by 7.”

With that, she turned and marched out of the café, leaving everyone in her path to fearfully stumble out of her way. Both of you watched, rapt, as she slammed the café door open and nearly nailed an approaching customer in the face.

Once she was out of sight, you turned to Thing. “Y’know, I think that went well, buddy.”

Thing said nothing.

You thought that would be the end of it, and honestly, you would’ve been fine if it had been. You made a good first impression and she now knew you existed. A double win!

But again, it seemed that someone had other plans—though this time it wasn’t the universe, but Thing.

Now that you and Wednesday had been semi-acquainted, Thing began inviting you to their dorm for hangouts frequently (because it was “his dorm too” …you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise). This set a few things in motion.

First, you met Wednesday’s roommate, Enid.

Enid was nice. A little hyper, like she was on a permanent sugar rush, but sweet, nonetheless. She gave you free manicures and skincare advice, and even let you borrow some things for pranks, so you hadn’t a single bad thing to say about her.

Second, you found out that you were very bad at scaling buildings.

Due to both curfew and Wednesday’s usual disapproval of your presence, Thing insisted on smuggling you in. By throwing a rope down to your balcony for you to climb. And…let’s just say that it’s a miracle you even survived the first time.

And finally, most importantly, you and Wednesday began to grow closer.

Only by about a centimeter, but progress was progress. And through sheer willpower and repeated exposure, you wormed your way into the tolerance stage, which is farther than most people who came into contact with Wednesday got, so you were proud.

She wasn’t warmer per se, but the sight of you in her dorm was no longer met with a throwing knife, just a death glare and some tentative (mostly one-sided) conversation if she was in a good mood. It was a big win.

Now that she wasn’t orchestrating any attempts on your life, you grew…not protective, but defensive of her, and Enid for that matter. Enid was your friend and Wednesday was…Wednesday. Willingly or not, they were part of your small circle.

So when a werewolf insulted Wednesday right to her face the day before the Poe Cup, well who could blame you for getting a little revenge?

You overheard him call Wednesday a frigid bitch, and he was right, but he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing. In retaliation, you and Thing gave him a special surprise involving shampoo and some of Enid’s hair dye that you were very excited to see the next day.

And it didn’t disappoint. Seeing the flash of bright pink amongst the Furs, and a matching flush of embarrassment that was nearly the same color was the highlight of your day.

At least it was until the Black Cats emerged from their tents.

Given your positioning, you were only able to see them once they started climbing into their canoe, and needless to say that the team’s roster shocked you. There were a few girls you didn’t recognize up front, then Enid and, as her co-pilot in the back, Wednesday.

Your jaw dropped. Because not only was she competing in the competition, but she was also wearing a skintight black catsuit, complete with ears and a tail.

The laugh you let out was so loud that it startled the surrounding crowd. You felt something poking your leg, and looking down, you found Thing standing by your feet. You bent down, glancing over to the Black Cat’s boat.

“Hey, you helping out Wednesday and Enid?”

He bowed in confirmation. Nodding, you stuck out a hand.

“Punch at least one siren for me, alright bud?”

He shook your hand firmly, a promise to fulfill your wish, and crawled off to the boat.

The event itself was rather dull. With the way Enid explained it, you were expecting something a bit more grandiose, but in reality, it was just standing around and watching for boats. Boring.

But hey, it gave you a half-day of classes, so who were you to complain?

The results though, were much more interesting.

For the first time in decades, the trophy went to Ophelia Hall. You were happy, not because you had any buried school spirit, but because you knew how much Enid wanted this. Seeing the fish get knocked down a peg was a nice bonus.

Afterward, you pushed through the crowd to try and find Enid so you could personally congratulate her, but before you could spot her, you bumped into her co-pilot. Literally.

Blindly, you steadied the smaller girl by the shoulders, a sorry on the tip of your tongue, but it got swallowed down as you were crudely reminded of her current state of dress. You tore your eyes from her outfit and dropped your hands back to your side, meeting her glare with what you prayed was a straight face.

“Hey, Wends. Congrats on the win! Love the outfit by the way,” you said, trying your absolute hardest not to crack a smile. The large ears were making that exceptionally hard, however.

She scowled. “Don’t call me that and for your information, I was forced to wear this.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without laughing. Thankfully, it seemed Wednesday wasn’t finished speaking anyway.

“I noticed that werewolf’s hair is now a rather putrid shade of pink,” she said. “Did you perhaps have something to do with that?”

Once again, you found yourself unsuccessfully fighting off a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions. But it suits him, don’t you think?”

Before she could respond, a soaking wet Thing pulled on your pant leg and excitedly began recounting what happened. You bent down again, nodding along with his story, and beamed at him once he finished.

“Right in the eye?” you reiterated, and Thing confirmed. “That’s awesome. I knew I could count on you.” You gave him a quick high five then scooped him up, drying him off on your uniform and setting him on your shoulder.

You stood back up and saw that Wednesday was still there, staring at you so intently that you were sure she was somehow looking straight through you.

Cocking your head to the side, you went to ask if she was alright, but that must’ve knocked her from her stupor because, without another word, she spun on her heel and walked off, leaving you to stare at the spot she just occupied, thoroughly bewildered.

“That was weird,” you commented. Thing gave an agreeing pat.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t question her about it since you didn’t get the chance to speak with her again until exactly three days later.

It was just after dinner. Thing invited you over to help prepare a new scheme, and who were you to say no to the little guy?

Enid was visiting Yoko in the infirmary and Wednesday was nowhere to be seen, so it was just you and Thing, sitting by the window hard at work.

You tied the water balloon in your hand and held it in front of you, giving it a contemplative look. “You’re sure these will only give them bad rashes, right?”

The only response you received was a shrug, which was good enough for you, so you picked up the next one and got to filling it up. Not one to work in silence, you voiced a thought you’d been holding in for a while.

“So, do you breathe? Like, would be able to drown if you stayed under the water for too long?”

Thing shook his wrist matter of factly. You gasped.

“That’s so cool.” The flustered thuds you heard after made you chuckle.

Satisfied, you went back to filling balloons, but your head popped up only a minute later, another burning question on your mind. “If you can’t eat or drink, then what physically sustains you to keep you alive?”

Without missing a beat, Thing tapped out his answer.

“The misery of others?” You snorted. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

Conversation lapsed into quiet as you both focused on your tasks, and your mind wandered.

You wondered where Wednesday was. The hour just after dinner was her designated writing hour, and it was very unusual for her to be missing it.

You hoped that she’d be back soon, even if she only glared at you the rest of the night. Just seeing her would be enough to satisfy you.

Because in a somewhat cruel twist of irony, you were now falling victim to the very same feelings you mocked others for getting caught up in, and even more brutal was the fact that you didn’t mind all too much. Mostly because it was Wednesday.

Now, you were no poet or writer. You weren’t going to wax poetic and spew a thousand grandiose metaphors about how her eyes resembled that of a starless sky, no.

Wednesday was really pretty and genuinely interesting, and she looked at you like a predator wanting to tear apart its prey. And really, that’s all it took for you to dive right off that cliff’s edge into infatuation.

There was a certain excitement in knowing that she could dismember you with surgical precision if you ever went just a little too far, an irresistible thrill to be found in constantly toeing that line. Like walking a tightrope with life and death teetering on a knife’s edge—the perfect counterbalance to the endless loop of monotonous boredom your life had seemingly fallen into before her and Thing’s arrival.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your train of thought, and you whipped your head just in time to see Wednesday stride in with a book cradled in her arms and her usual annoyed expression adorning her features.

You perked up, and out the corner of your eye, you saw Thing do the same.

“Hey! How’s Nevermore’s resident tiny terror doing today?”

“Call me that again and I will disembowel you,” came her cheerful reply. You snorted.

“Uh-huh.” You finished tying the last balloon and looked back up, seeing Wednesday eyeing your prep work with distaste.

“Are those water balloons?” she asked, clearly unimpressed.

“Yep. They’re filled with holy water so we can throw them at the vampires who were teasing Enid last week for not being able to shift.” You grinned. Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction.

“That’s insane,” she commented. Then after a beat, “Make sure to film it on your cellular device so I can watch as well.

“Of course,” you assured her, giving a dramatic bow as well. She rolled her eyes, and you watched her resign to her desk. Unable to contain your curiosity, you piped back up, “So what took you so long? I was expecting you to come in and kick me out hours ago.”

Her reply was instantaneous. “I discovered a secret passageway in the school, committed theft, and became the target of an attempted kidnapping.”

A twinge of jealousy pierced your gut. How come she always got to do the fun stuff? You quickly shook it off, focusing on the first thing she said.

“A secret passageway?” you asked, already thinking of ways to possibly utilize the space for you and Thing.

“Yes, I solved a riddle and uncovered a passageway hidden behind the Edgar Allen Poe statue in the quad.”

The Edgar Allen Poe statue… Recognition sparked, and the pieces slotted together, some of your prior jealousy abating.

“Ohh, you got kidnapped in the Nightshade’s Library?”

Finally, she looked at you, gaze so sharp it could’ve cut you in two. “How do you know about that?”

You and Thing shared an unsubtle sideways glance.

“Uh—”

“So what fingers do you do it with? Thumb and ring finger or thumb and middle finger?”

The pressing question was delivered in a whisper. It was late—at least an hour after lights out, but Thing promised to teach you how to snap before he left for his dorm.

So to avoid being caught, you and the appendage were tucked into the corner of a small hall that branched off from the quad. You were hunched against a tall Edgar Allen Poe statue while your companion stood next to you.

Thing waggled his fingers and pointedly put his thumb against his middle finger. You nodded and copied his movements, rubbing the fingers together to get a feel for it.

“So I just…”

You pressed the fingers together and made the snapping motion a few times in quick succession, beaming up at him when you managed to produce a few low sounds.

Suddenly, a deep rumble emanated from the ground beneath you as the statue you were seated on began to shift. You leapt to your feet, quickly grabbing Thing and placing him on your shoulder. You both watched, baffled, as the statue moved to reveal a long winding staircase.

Taking in a breath, you shared a look with Thing then looked back to the open pathway.

“Holy shit!”

“No reason,” you said far too quickly to be believable. Before she could question you further, you cleared your throat and moved on. “Did you have fun?”

“No. They were imbeciles that didn’t even know the basics of the art of abduction. It was pitiful.”

You frowned. “Oh. Sorry about that. I hope the next one is better.”

Wednesday shot you a strange look, studying you carefully before mumbling out a barely audible thank you, and turning back to her desk.

Since you were finished with the balloons, you slumped back against the window. There was nothing to do, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your eyes drifted back to Wednesday’s hunched form. Nosiness tugged at you. You wanted to know more about what she stole and why, and a glance at Thing told you that he did too.

Extending your arm for him to climb, you waited until he rested securely on your shoulder before heading to Wednesday’s desk to see what she was up to.

Lying flat on the wood before her was the book, opened to an illustration. On the left page was what looked to be a pilgrim extending a staff toward the figure on the right, who somewhat resembled Wednesday. You squinted. Scratch that, the girl on the right looked exactly like Wednesday.

“Is this what you stole?”

“Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look over my shoulder like that.”

Her words went in one ear and out the other, your mind too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the drawing to actually listen. Finally, the identity of the mystery pilgrim clicked, and you asked, “Why’d someone draw you in a picture with Crackstone?”

Her head whipped over to you, all complaints of you being there gone. “You know who this is?”

“Yeah,” you answered, “Joseph Crackstone. He’s like, Jericho’s chief colonizer. Founded the whole town or something.”

She didn’t respond, seeming to take in the information, but you didn’t want the conversation to die quite yet, so you carried on.

“Outreach Day is next week, are you excited? I, for one, am pumped to do menial work for no pay.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, then appeared to rethink her answer. “Actually yes, but not because of the forced child labor. I already have plans to further my investigation in Jericho.”

You perked up, leaning forward to try and catch her eyes. “Can I come?”

She didn’t even bother looking back at you when she answered, hard and firm.

“No.”

-

“Thanks for letting me come along, Wends!”

Wednesday clenched her jaw, expelling a sharp breath through her nose. This was the third time you’d said that in the past four hours, and while she was able to ignore the other two, the addition of that stupid nickname made holding herself back a third time impossible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And you’re only here because someone,” she sent Thing a murderous glare, “refused to cooperate without your agonizing presence.”

Your eyes widened, darting over to the hand resting on your shoulder. “Really?”

Thing gave a shy wave. A wide smile spread across your cheeks in response.

“Well thanks for advocating for me, bud. It means a lot,” you said with a hand over your heart, sounding far too cheerful for someone that just chased a dangerous monster.

Wednesday didn’t bother dignifying you with any more responses, turning back to the woods ahead. But that got her thinking.

Why had she let you come anyways?

There was no good reason that came to mind. You were insufferable. The human embodiment of vexation and foolishness and petulance. You were, in essence, all the traits she disliked in the general human race given physical form.

And yet, she had allowed you to come along.

Yes, Thing asked her time and time again to permit your presence, but instead of threatening his life like she should have done, she gave in with the silent promise of revenge.

It made no sense. You pushed boundaries, disobeyed orders, and disregarded her threats and insults with a garish smile like they were no more than a joke heard in passing.

And only now did she realize that she found it far less irritating than she did when she first met you.

The answer to why was unclear, but Wednesday wasn’t sure if that was because she was genuinely unsure of the reasoning behind her decision or because she didn’t want to figure it out.

Your annoying voice thankfully halted her mind’s trajectory.

“Of course, you’re my favorite Addams. You’re my best friend, the only other five-fingered appendage I’ll ever need in my life. Plus, Wednesday hates me so there’s no competition.”

Wednesday was once again stunned by the inane conversations you and Thing have on a daily basis. Some of the talks she’d overheard in the past months could be unironically described as mind-numbing.

Deciding to have some fun to pass the time, she turned to fully face you, running her eyes over your form before speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

She watched your eyes go wide and you looked at her with some odd form of hope. The corners of her lips twitched.

“I despise you. There’s a difference.”

Your head dropped exaggeratedly, but when you looked up again there was a smile on your face, making any notion of hers disappear.

She couldn’t stand that—the way you were never put off by anything she had to say.

Enid had the same tendency to shrug off her threats, but even she was unnerved when she first met Wednesday. But not you. Wednesday couldn’t think of a single time when anything she said, threat or otherwise, made you uncomfortable or fearful, and there was seldom anything that got under her skin more.

“That was mean, Wednesday. Really mean.” She noticed Thing say something on your shoulder and you gave a playful gasp in response. “Don’t laugh, Thing. That wasn’t funny,” you said, even though you were giggling yourself.

At the sight and sound of your laughter, something strange happened. Something combusted within her, and the flames spread, licking her sternum with an uncomfortable intensity. Like someone crudely lit a match and let it fall inside of her chest, allowing the fire to wreak havoc on her insides. It was unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant was the knowledge that this was not the first time this had happened. And that was but another in the long list of reasons why she shouldn’t have permitted your presence today.

She faced forward abruptly and kept walking, but you entered her peripheral moments later, no doubt ready to bother her with something.

As always, she was proven correct. “Hey, so you said that Crackstone was in that vision with your ancestor, right? And he killed a bunch of outcasts?”

“Correct.”

That mischievous smile she had come to recognize spread across your face, pulling your lips up at a slightly uneven angle.

“What do you say we get a little revenge?”

“And how exactly do you propose we get revenge on a pilgrim that died centuries ago?” she inquired skeptically.

You hummed. “Undecided but you go on ahead and just let the masterminds cook for a bit. I promise we’ll come up with something great.”

You and Thing flashed her a simultaneous thumbs-up, to which she just blinked. Not needing to be told twice, she started walking again, leaving you both to linger behind. Once there was a sufficient distance between you and her, she slowed slightly.

Though she had just made a vital discovery for her case, she figured this brief period of quiet would be better spent unpacking that persistent internal conflagration that flared whenever you were near.

Deigning to use her tried and true investigative process, she tried to start from the beginning, to gather all the information she had and prepare it for analysis, but she immediately got lost because truthfully, she couldn’t pinpoint the start of your assimilation into her daily routine.

Her…acquaintanceship with you made little sense, even to her. Especially to her. The same could also be said about her budding friendship? with Enid, but that was easier to parse.

Enid was her roommate; someone she quite literally couldn’t avoid since they lived together. But you weren’t. You were Thing’s friend, sure, but that didn’t answer the question of why Wednesday was becoming entangled with you as well.

However, looking at it from a logical perspective, it somewhat made sense.

A mutual penchant for mischief and practical jokes is what drew you and Thing together. In that same vein, she supposed that your insatiable appetite for adventure and her unquenchable thirst for triumph put you both on a collision course that neither of you could prevent. Especially in such a creatively stagnant climate as Nevermore.

A rebel and a renegade—two of a kind. You understood her and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she understood you.

She just didn’t know how to interpret the unexpected side effects that came with that mutual understanding.

(That was a lie, she realized. Somewhere deep down she knew, but she didn’t want it to mean what she thought it might. After all, she couldn’t possibly be letting someone like you turn her into an apostate to her own beliefs and morals…right?

She thought back to what she said to her mother on her first day, how hypocritical her words looked in the face of this dilemma. God, how pitiful of a circumstance she found herself in.)

Either way, Wednesday had allowed the sparks to ignite, and she knew that any chance she had of tempering the subsequent wildfire it caused was lessening with every moment she knowingly spent with you in her space.

Part of her didn’t want to anyway.

Approaching voices behind her caught her attention. Focusing on the present once more, she listened in.

“That’s an awesome idea, right?” she heard you say lowly.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. Everything was either cool, awesome, or amazing to you. She desperately needed to expand your vocabulary if you were going to be sticking around. For her sanity.

Wet footsteps neared, and you ran ahead of Wednesday, turning to face her with a demeanor resembling that of an excitable puppy. She sped up her pace, but you matched it, even while walking backward.

“Ok, Wednesday, plan secured. You know what I need?”

“A thesaurus?”

You blinked, brows furrowed, then shrugged. “Yeah, probably but I was actually gonna say that I need gasoline, and matches.”

“Well, there’s a hardware store a block down from the Weathervane, you could get gasoline from there. I have the matches covered.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow quirked, a grin appearing along with it. “You have matches on you?”

“Of course. I carry a box with me everywhere I go.”

Your smile widened.

Wednesday ignored the flames ravaging her organs and asked, “Are you going to tell me what this ‘plan’ is?”

“And ruin the surprise? No. All I’m gonna say is that you should have another song prepared for the unveiling.”

She narrowly avoided rolling her eyes again. Given the materials you needed, Wednesday had a good idea of what you were planning anyway, and thankfully, she had just the song in mind.

The three of you parted ways as you reentered the town proper, you and Thing running off to gather supplies, and Wednesday, after handing her matches over, headed into the square to prepare her cello.

Unsurprisingly, she was the first person there. She sat in the seat by her cello, languidly checking its strings more out of a need for something to do than because she needed to. Her cello was always perfectly tuned.

It didn’t take very long for you to follow, running into the square with a canister of gasoline and a bag of what looked to be gunpowder. She heard a low “let’s blow this fucker back to hell, Thing” before you split up, Thing pouring the gasoline in the base of the statue while you created a trail of black powder from the statue to behind the bleachers.

Wednesday watched you, the familiar feeling of being proven right tugging her lips upward. If nothing else, your flair for the dramatic was commendable.

You both finished and took refuge behind the bleachers just as people started filing in for the ceremony. As the normie high school band set up behind her, she took note of how nobody looked particularly enthused to be here (besides Enid, who would somehow find a way to be excited to watch paint dry).  

Soon, the ceremony was underway, and it was as underwhelming as Wednesday expected it to be. Just a plethora of fake smiles, stale claps, and off-key notes from the laughingstock of a “band” performing with her.

An explosion might not even be enough to resuscitate the audience at this point.

Once the fountain was turned on, Wednesday sent a sideways glance to you and you nodded, signaling something to Thing on the ground below. A trail of smoke and the telltale sound of burning gunpowder followed and Wednesday felt her dead heart begin to pick up pace at the thought of the coming anarchy.

Finally, the looming bronze figure burst into a brilliant ball of flame, the sound of the blast washing away the wretched off-key notes of the incompetent band behind her.

As the panic began to set in, her fingers moved on their own, relishing the familiar feel of the aching, discordant cords of Vivaldi’s Winter.

In moments, Jericho’s empty streets were flooded with people running in terror as sirens wailed in the distance. The harmonious screams that erupted from both outcasts and normies alike were almost more pleasant to her ears than the song that she was playing.

Principal Weems glared at her from afar, eyes narrowed in brewing suspicion, and Wednesday stared right back, lips coiling into a poisonous smile.

Tearing her eyes away from the principal, she peered through the haze of the smoke toward the bleachers. You were watching her with wide, awestruck eyes and a smile. You only looked away briefly to give Thing a fist bump before turning back toward her, but her gaze never faltered from you. Even with all of the glorious chaos happening around her.

That horrible, detestable feeling in her chest returned with a vengeance, blazing brighter than the raging fire to her right. But in this moment, she welcomed it, let it fuel her as the music reached its climax.

As the warm orange glow of the flames reflected off the raw excitement and amazement in your eyes and her treacherous song came to its end, Wednesday recognized that perhaps neither hatred nor disdain was quite the right word to describe how she felt for you after all.

And perhaps becoming a heretic and a hypocrite wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all (though it would certainly be close). 

[forgotten-realm5]

That's all I needed to hear

(image from sorryseraphim)

Gortash x Dark Urge/f!Reader

Warnings & summary: MDNI, 18+, pre-tadpole, After a successful crown heist you realise you have feelings for Gortash, but not wanting to be just like every other conquest you make him work for it. (i suck at summaries), dominant!durge, magical restraint, masturbation (f), sorcerer durge, unprotected sex, p in v, biting, blood, choking, name calling.

Words: around 2K

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing smut ahhhh! i just wanted to try and contribute to this amazing community of BG3 fans, your artwork and writings have given me life. Gortash has taken up residence in my mind and won't leave so enjoy my brainrot ! Even if just one person enjoys this I will die happy.

The crown heist was a success. A feeling of pride and power courses through your body as you consider your partnership with Lord Enver Gortash and the full extent of what can be achieved when you work together as equals. Equals… a term that has never been used to describe you. As a child of Bhaal, you were constantly reminded by your father of your mortality compared to his omnipotence. Your mind ponders at the Chosen of Bane’s use of the word to describe your newly affirmed partnership, as he sits across you with a triumphant smirk on his face. You realise that he may be the first person to actually see you and your true worth, not just a mere slave to your father’s wishes. Never in your life have you felt a connection like the one between Gortash and yourself, the way you seem to complement each other and how he does not shy away from the darkest parts of your soul but instead welcomes it. You realise you are falling for him and feel frightened for the first time in your life, unsure of what to do, unsure whether he feels it too.

You come back to reality and realise Gortash is watching you expectantly waiting for a response to his question. When you don’t answer his face morphs into one of concern. You push your internal thoughts of love and lust to the back of your mind and focus on the object of your desire.

“Are you feeling alright my dear?”

“Just tired, what were you saying? you answer as your cheeks start to flush at being caught out.

“I was just raising a glass to us and the fine job we did in acquiring the Crown of Karsus. We are now one step closer to seeing our plan complete” Gortash explains while pouring a glass of wine and sliding it towards your side of the table.

You take the goblet of wine and raise it “To us and the future of our partnership”.

Gortash chuckles his eyes darkening slightly as he responds “Yes the future of our partnership indeed”.

You noticed his eyes roam over your body and then settle of your lips. You were concerned with your own feelings tonight but didn’t stop to examine his. Now that you think about it he may be trying to seduce you, as it was his idea to have a private celebratory dinner in his room.

Gortash sets down his goblet and walks around the table to come to a stop in front of you. He reaches down and offers his hand to pull you to your feet. You let your eyes roam his body. He is wearing his usual dark attire, but without his formal jacket you can see the lines of his strong chest and muscular arms. Your eyes settle the longest on the front of his shirt where it is has been opened to reveal chest hair you always longed to brush your hands through. Your eyes then focus on his mouth and his full lips, and you imagine taking them between your teeth. You bite your own lips with longing and reach forward to take his offered hand while you stand from your chair. You finally raise your eyes to his, and notice him watching you intensely. You can read him well after all these years, but tonight you see a slight apprehension to him that is unusual.

“Come stand by the window with me” Gortash guides you to the main window in the room, overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate and the lands beyond. It was a clear night, the moon shining bright illuminating the streets and people below. Gortash takes your hand in his and gestures with his other to the city below.

“Very soon all of this will be ours to rule together” He pauses and locks eyes with you.

“You look very beautiful in the moonlight”.

Gortash waits for you to respond with lust filling his own eyes. You know he is used to getting what he wants, taking on a dominate persona in all things. You knew this encounter was a long time coming as he had been nothing but a flirt since the first time you met. Looking at him in the candlelight, you decide you don’t want to be just another easy conquest, you want to be the one to make him beg.

Stepping closer to him you soften your voice to a sultry tone. 

“And you’re looking just as delicious” while your hand reaches up to caress his exposed chest through his shirt. It’s just as you always imagined, soft and warm. Gortash chuckles and then smirks at you and slowly, seductively he grabs the hand on his chest and brings it up to his mouth to kiss at the pulse point on your wrist, all the while not taking his eyes off you.

Your eyes shine with approval and he takes that as encouragement to lean forward and capture your lips. The kiss is an explosion of past longing coming to a head. You feel his stubble against your skin as you grab his face to deepen the kiss, his hands move to grip your hips. His mouth tastes of red wine and you inhale his lingering scent of incense and soap. Just as you are both about to pull apart to breathe again, you grab his bottom lip between your teeth and bite hard enough it breaks the skin causing Gortash to moan with approval. You lick the blood off his lips and move away from his embrace.

Gortash looks at you, his face flush with arousal.

“Gods you’re perfect, I can’t wait to hear how you moan my name”.

“All in good time, but first I want to hear you beg for me ” you smirk at the surprise on Gortash’s face, he narrows his eyes but answers with a hint of amusement.

"I don’t beg."

“We’ll see about that”. You motion for him to follow you back to the dining room and forcefully push him into a chair. He is watching you with enjoyment, his eyes following your every move. You stand in front of him close enough that your knees are touching and look down at the noticeable bludge in his pants, you smirk to yourself thinking this will be easier than you thought.

“Looks like someone enjoys a bit of pain” you tease him.

“Only if you’re the one delivering it” Gortash counters.

“Is that so?” you draw out. “You don’t have to hide it, I know you’re a kinky fuck”.

Before he has time to respond you grab his throat and crash your mouth to his. He moans loudly and you can feel yourself becoming increasingly wet listening to his responses. Gortash tries to grab at you to pull you on to his lap but you pull away, and take a step backwards, enjoying teasing him. You quickly cast hold person so he can’t move his body. Gortash chuckles at your use of a restraint and has an amused and hungry look on his face while you start to take off your clothes in front of him. Now standing in front of him completely nude his eyes roam the curves of your body, his face in awe of your physique.

“Come here so I can touch you." You note a slight hint of neediness in his voice that only spurs you on.

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me."

You note his slight annoyed expression and laugh. You then start to move your hands slowly down your body taking time to cup your breasts and play with your pointed nipples. His eyes are glued on your hands.

“Let’s see how long the Chosen of Bane can hold out for” you tease.

His mouth drops open slightly as your hand travels to your pelvic region. You lock eyes with Gortash while you slip one finger into your folds and let out a small moan. You bring the finger back out, now glistening with your arousal which causes a small noise that sounds like a whimper to come out of Gortash's mouth. You smile at him, eyes challenging him to break. He tries to shift in his seat against the restrains of the spell, his arousal threatening to burst through his pants.

“You cruel torturous woman, when I get my hands on you” he mutters, with a violent look in his eye. There is however also a slight note of defeat in his voice which makes you realise he is almost at breaking point.

You continue and pump two fingers in and out of yourself, moaning louder than needed to further torture him. You then bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick them clean slowly, exaggerating your tongue movements to demonstrate what he is missing out on. Gortash is captivated by your show, pupils blown wide with hunger. You then walk up to him and a plop yourself on his lap straddling his waist with your nipples at his eye level. You continuing to touch yourself in his lap, every so often brushing up against his achingly hard, still clothed member. Gortash moans loudly at the display looking about ready to explode.

“Alright! alright! you win” you grin at the victory and at the bitter tone in his voice. You stop your show to listen to the rest of his sentence.

Gortash pauses looking away from you

“Well, I’m waiting” you respond sharply.

“Please” you hear in a quiet voice.

“What was that, couldn’t quite hear you” you reply in amusement.

“Please!” Gortash almost shouts with an irritated look in his eyes. His voice then returns to his usual level.

“Please just let me touch you, let me fuck you, you cruel wicked thing” you hear the arousal in his voice, breathy and needy.

“That’s all I needed to hear” you respond as you break your concentration on the spell.

In an instant his arms are around you, picking you up and almost running towards the bed. He throws you on the bed and gets on top of you.

“You little harlot” you hear his light-hearted tone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my show, I know you did." You smirk and grab between his legs to emphasises his arousal still tightly pushing against his breaches.

He gives you a look of hunger and hurries to remove his shirt only just realising he is still fully clothed. His body is how you imagined it, muscular yet soft with dark hair coating his body in just the right places. You can feel your desire burning inside you as you eye the patch of hair that trails down his stomach. You reach forward to undo his pants and push his undergarments off eager to see all of him. His member bounces free of its confines already slick. Your eyes widen at the thickness of it, already anticipating the burn. Gortash notices your line of vision and chuckles with pride as he grabs your chin and pulls you in for another heated kiss. He hungrily kisses every part of your body that he was denied while kneading your breasts with his hands. He moves from your mouth to your neck where he bites and sucks at you, you let out a whimper knowing it will leave a bruise. He then grazes his teeth over your nipple, licking, sucking and then finally biting causing you to cry out at the feeling. You feel his self-satisfied smirk against your skin as he continues his path downwards. His tongue enters your folds without warning causing you to grab a hand full of his hair and cry out his name. You can feel yourself about to come undone quicker than you expected .

“Fuck Enver, I need you inside me now."

“That’s all I needed to hear”, his smartass response mocking your words from before.

You let it slide for now as your need is too great, but you make a mental note to make him pay for it next time.

He lines up with your entrance and buries himself inside you in one smooth motion. You both moan loudly at the feeling of connection. You feel a sharp tinge of pain mixed with intense pleasure as you get used to his width. He starts to pump in and out of you at a quickened pace knowing it won’t take long for either of you to cum. You grab on to his body and rake your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood. Gortash hisses in pain and pleasure and bites at your neck in response. Gortash comes first moaning your name loudly, causing you to follow closely, both your bodies withering in ecstasy as you ride out the climax. Breathing heavily Gortash rolls off you and you both lie together in silence for a few seconds recovering. You move to get up off the bed but he stops you with his arm.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my room?” as though it was obvious.

He pauses, looking unsure of himself.

“I want you to stay, tonight and every night after that. You’re mine now”, his serious expression softens slightly.

“If you want to be?”

As you look into his eyes you are surprised see a vulnerability that you have never seen before. You realised that this night means as much to him as it does to you, and with that thought you agree to stay, content to lie in his arms dreaming of your future together.

[huhniebowl]

Guilty Pleasure

Elliot x Reader 

Warnings: S M U T

a/n: the long and awaited smut is now here...this is what y’all really wanted huh?

i hope you all enjoy this, probably one of my favorite pieces :P

¥

“We—ah shouldn’t be doing t-this.” You stutter in his ear when the tip of his tongue flicks at your nipple. Elliot feels your thighs try to jerk close as they sit on either side of his lap, the muscles trembling against the fabric of his jeans. 

Your sweater is bunched up over your chest and rests on the crown of Elliot’s head—chest heaving as you wrap your arms around his neck and cradle the back of his head to pull him closer, lips now sucking on your perky tit. 

“Elliot, please, you have a girl—fuck!” Your head lolls back when he snaps his hips up, cock hard enough through his jeans to put delicious pressure on your clit through your sweatpants. 

“You talk too damn much,” He mutters into the underside of your chin. He quickly moves his hands up from your ass and into the arch in your back, keeping you from leaning onto the horn. A Range in an empty parking lot at two in the morning, already raises enough suspicion. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says, slowly moving his hips against yours, “What she doesn't know can’t hurt her.” 

Yes, Elliot is aware, that’s probably the shittiest thing he could say and do to another woman, but he can’t help who he yearns for. You’re just everything Jules isn’t. You tempt him without trying, without knowing. If your signs were more evident from the beginning, Elliot could swear right away, that he’d been fucking you rather than Jules. No shame in it at all.

Jules wouldn’t have been a thought, a name that crossed his mind. He had to settle for someone that wasn’t you. And now? Now things are complicated as a result. Now you both are participating in one of the worst betrayals, but you can’t find it in yourselves to care. Not when the object of your desire, the guilty pleasure you’ve both been wanting for months, is finally within reach. 

You don’t try to protest much after that; your will to leave wasn’t that strong from the beginning. Instead, you channel all your focus on Elliot and nothing else. Your hands pull his hoodie up from his jeans, fingers running over the dips and ridges on his stomach and chest before settling on his collarbone to take the hoodie off. 

Leaning back on his lap, cautious of the horn, you stare down at him, your hair curling at the forehead and lips swollen—sweater falling back down, crumpled, over your torso. God, he can’t wait to fucking destroy you. 

Your eyes follow the ink up his arms. The single copper street lamp in the lot acts as a projector for the rain pelting the window, casting a show on the two of you and emitting just enough light for you to see each other. 

“Looking so fucked out already, and we haven't even started,” Elliot breathes, “Am I that good?” You groan and press down on his cock, getting impatient. He jolts at the unexpected pressure, your fingers making quick work of his belt buckle. 

You throw the metal clasp apart and unzip his jeans, dancing your fingertips over his abdomen—biting the inside of your cheek when he clenches under your feather touches. 

“What do you want me to do, Elly?” You mouth at his neck, fingers nipping at his boxers, and now and then brushing over the apparent tent in the cotton. 

You feed off praise, orders, and reactions. That realization alone slaps Elliot into a daze, his cock twitching at the thought of you bending in any way he orders you to just so you could please him. He’s going to have so much fun with you. 

He spreads his legs further apart and rolls his hips up, peering up at you with hooded lids, lips parted with heavy breathes. Without a word, the anticipation rolling off in waves, Elliot wraps his larger hand around yours—the size difference-making his mouth dry—and slips them down his boxers. 

All while keeping eye contact with you, he squeezes your hands around his cock and hisses. He watches you tremble on his lap. The feeling of your clit pulsing on his thigh, gives him all the affirmation he needs to keep going. 

“I want you,” he starts,“To keep your hand just like this, and work my cock up and down.” Your eyes stay on his. Top lip twitching. 

“Like this?” You whisper, moving your hand just as he instructed, twisting and turning. Elliot groans and uses his free hand to wrap around the headrest, situating himself.                                                                      

“Yeah, just like that baby,” At the praise, your nipples harden through your sweater. Once again, the buds yearn for some type of relief, and Elliot holds back a chuckle at how sensitive you are. 

“Fuck Elliot.” You whimper, your conjoined hands picking up speed. You reach down with your free hand and pull his boxers further down. His heart stutters when you shake your hand from out under his and instead wrap it around his tip to run your thumb over the slit—jerking him faster. 

“Mhm, like that, baby. Doing so well for me.” He rasps, arching off the seat and lolling his neck back against the headrest. He grinds up into your fist, his moans the hottest sound, and you feel your pussy leak another glob of arousal. 

You keep your eyes on his face, on his reactions. His tiny whimpers.

“Shit, baby. Please don’t stop.” God, this felt so right, you couldn’t help but feel like he was meant for you. That you’re the only one deserving to see him like this. Feel him like this. 

Lost in the feeling of everything you, Elliot gasps when you suddenly press your lips on his collarbone, peppering kisses up his throat before biting down on the spot under his ear. A bruise sucked on his skin and the pleasure shooting right to his cock. 

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. Stop.” He shakily tries to push you back, the only place he wants to cum is inside you. Nowhere else. But you being the eager slut you are, keen to see him fall apart, doesn’t listen, instead picking up your pace and sucking another bruise on his neck.

Disobedient.

 Elliot grips the back of your head by your hair, and with his other hand, yanks your wrist away—squeezing it tightly. 

“I told you to stop.” He mutters, eyeing your frazzled state. Poor baby, you haven’t gotten any relief. 

“I bet your pussy is soaking right now. Clit swollen and sticky, aching for my tongue.”

“Yes, please.” You mewl, trying to tug his hand into your sweats. Elliot tuts at your disability to listen and pulls his hand away from your wrist to wrap it around your throat. 

“Do you think you deserve my mouth on your pussy? After that stunt you pulled? You really think you deserve it? Hm?” 

Your eyes gloss over, pleading, begging him for something. Anything. 

“Please?” You whisper, hands shaking at your side. That’s the only word you could utter. He dwindled you down into a pleading mess. A whimpering, begging whore. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t loving every second of it. Elliot tilts his head to the side in false thought, eyes raking over every inch of your flushed face. He wants to remember you like this. 

“Come on. You can do much better than that.” He pouts and uses the hand that was once gripping your hair to press down on your clit through your sweats. 

Tears build at your waterline, threatening to spill when you buck up. The night was nowhere near over, but you’re already feeling neglected. You just wanted him to relieve you, preferably by being stuffed with his cock, but this will have to do until he was done playing with you. You could do it. You waited this long for him. You could be good for him. You will be good for him. 

“I’ll do anything, Elliot, anything. Please touch me. Fuck me, something.” You cry, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.” Elliot grins a Cheshire cat-like grin, loving how much he dumbed you down to the point where your thought process is nothing but him. 

“There we go, baby, now was that so hard?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, reaching down to the side of his seat for the lever and pushing it back. 

You tumble on top of him with a yelp but can barely process the new position before he’s tugging off your pants. He tosses them to the side and slaps your bare ass. The sting mixing with the sudden rush of cold air on your skin, makes you tremble. You move to rid your panties, but Elliot slaps your hands away, 

“Leave em’. You look so pretty with them on.” He moves to lay down under and nips at your lips, “Now up.” 

You don’t waste a second, scrambling up until your clothed pussy is hovering right over his face, hands gripping the back seat headrest. The heat from your pussy radiates over his face, and Elliot blows cool air. He chuckles when your hips buck up.

“So pretty.” He whispers, hooking a finger to pull your panties to the side to place a kiss on your clit. Then another, then he starts languidly making out with your pussy. He’s teasing, his mouth right on your clit but not necessarily focused there. 

You whine, mouth open and eyes screwed shut when his mouth works sloppily over you. The sounds make your stomach clench, but it’s just not enough. And Elliot knows, it’s not enough. 

“Come on!” You moan impatiently, knuckles turning white against the seat. Elliot chuckles and pulls your panties fully off your legs. He sticks his tongue out, wraps his arms around each of your thighs, then pulls you down on his tongue. 

“Ride my face,” He mumbles against your pussy, and you immediately start grinding your hips. 

Your hands get clammy against the leather, and the lewd sounds of Elliot slurping you up echo throughout the car. You’re not sure what you're begging for anymore, Elliot’s name chanting past your lips like a prayer. 

He has a pattern that he keeps up, sucking on your clit, before twisting his way between your folds, then sticking his tongue out and curving the end up firmly for you to ride on. It’s all too much, the white-hot coil tightening in your abdomen quicker than you would like. Your thighs start to shake again, and you're clenching around nothing, hips picking up speed. Elliot groans into you, tongue breaking pattern to trace each letter of his name. 

Your face is pressed harshly against the headrest, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you yell.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck I’m gonna cum!” And right when your coil was going to snap, right when you swear you could see the end of your sweet release, Elliot twists your thighs off his face and over his shoulders—flipping them sideways and fully propelling you into the backseat. You lay there dumbfounded, both too confused and aggravated from a neglected orgasm. 

“What the fuck, Elliot?” You curse, watching him crawl over the armrest and situate himself in the seat next to you. Boxers and jeans gone.  

“Did you really think I would let you cum that easily?” He arches an eyebrow. “After the shit you pulled?” His nose, down to his chin gleam with your juices. 

He notices your stare and flicks his tongue out, licking his lips and around his mouth. Making a show out of it. 

“Mhm, so sweet.” He downright moans, and you shiver. The entire thing was nasty, obscene. And you wanted, needed more. He pats his thighs, and you immediately climb on top of his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck again, and pulling him down so his lips hover over yours. 

“You gonna fuck me now?” You whisper against them, his hot breath fans over your face when he lets out a soft “Fuck.” 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He muses against your lips, “Want me to claim your pretty pussy as mine?” He reaches down between your bodies and presses two fingers on your clit, rubbing slow circles. 

“Look at that, you’re trembling over just my fingers.” Your thighs jerk close when he slips two of them inside, breath caught. 

“Elly please. Need you inside. Wanna ride you.” Elliot laughs, pulls his fingers out and taps your lips. You open like the good girl your are for him and suck on his fingers, tasting yourself. 

“Such a slut for me aren’t you?” He grins, and pats your thigh for you to lift up so he can line himself with your pussy. With his hands now on your hips, he guides you down to his cock. His thighs tensing at the porn-worthy moan you let out at the feeling of finally being full. Elliot has to resit the urge of fucking you dumb when he looks up to see you dazed. Hips slowly moving to build up a rhythm. 

“Go on and show me why it should’ve been you from the beginning.” 

[starsfic]

Fluff 49 is someone jealous

Mei (could be taken as platonic, romantic, or QPR, hell it could be dark)

while I'm not sure if Eastern dragons display hording/possessive tendencies like there western counterparts. But I wanna think Mei due to her dragon instincts gets somewhat possessive over things and people she highly values. From objects like her bikes, and stuffed animal collection to living people like her parents, pigsy and tang who may of been like second parents to her at this point and of course her best friend for eternity MK.

So when red son joins there friend group shes happy at first when him and mk start getting on surprising well. But starts to grow jealous when redson starts cutting into her personal time with mk. Heck at times she feels like he's deliberately trying to hog mks attention.

As much as she loves red she feels the need to assert some boundaries, and remind him or even both of the boys who was here first.

Long Xiaojiao felt sometimes that there was a great big fat divide between her and Qi Xiaotian sometimes.

It wasn't a divide that couldn't be crossed. But it was there. Between her and Red dealing with the Samadhi fire and Xiaotian dealing with the whole "Harbinger of Chaos" stuff with Wukong, there was stuff that they couldn't share because the other wouldn't understand. It sucked, but there was still things to talk about. Especially when Red started tagging along!

Red, like she thought, was a great friend when he finally relaxed a bit. He knew cool demon spots to hang out with and could rattle for hours about different topics. He was fascinating. Xiaojiao's favorite hangout was when he led her and Xiaotian to a secret demon fighting ring and they spent most of the day placing bets (with food) on fighters. Then someone got the bright idea to challenge her to a fight and Xiaojiao enjoyed watching Xiaotian's eyes darken with desire as she fought the guy barehanded.

Xiaotian was her best friend. Hers since the day they met at the park, playing in the mud. Red was also hers, although the desire to hoard him was much less due to the new nature of their friendship. They were happy, all three of them.

And then Red tried to make that divide wider.

At first, she didn't notice. She had been delighted when Red suddenly had a free night on Saturday night, an old tradition of hers and Xiaotian where they had a movie marathon. It was nice to have something that was just them even in the craziness of their lives now. She thought it would only be once.

Except "one free Saturday night" became "every Saturday night was free". It wasn't a problem, not at first.

Not until she looked over to realize that Red had wrapped an arm around Xiaotian to cuddle close and realization struck her like a fist on weird behavior she had noticed from Red. The ability to remember Xiaotian's favorites, the insistence on sitting next to him, oh my gods all the touching.

She loved Red, really. But she loved Xiaotian more.

Her breaking point came when they were at a bar, drinking in congrats for Xiaotian's webcomic finally being published. Of course, most people would be interested because it was the Monkie Kid writing it, but Xiaojiao knew his art style and storytelling would win.

Red leaned close, smiling at Xiaotian like pure sin. "So, Noodle Boy..." The nickname was sweet as sugar, no longer containing a disgusting note. "I had to notice some things about the love interest. They mentioned knowing how they kissed. Unfortunately, I don't think I've won something like that from you before..."

"Oh," Xiaojiao said before Xiaotian could answer. "It's because of this." She patted her lap and Xiaotian stood up, a sweet smile forming across his face. Red raised a brow and then his hair floomed into flames as Xiaotian straddled her, the motion easy.

"Hey," her best friend cooed.

"Hey," she cooed back, her fingers settling in their favorite spots before Xiaotian leaned down and kissed her.

For a few glorious moments, it was just him and her. She didn't need to steal him or lock him away. He gave himself to her, his best friend in the whole world, willingly.

Finally, though, air had the nasty need of being needed and Xiaojiao pulled away. Xiaotian instead settled his chin on her shoulder, sighing contently.

Red stared at them with wide eyes. Then his eyes narrowed.

It was a secret challenge. Xiaojiao answered it back.

(Xiaotian hid his smile in his best friend's shoulder. Hopefully, she and Red got the worst of the instinctual possessiveness out of their systems before his preparations were done.

He intended for them both to be his.)

[neoarchipelago]

I love it! Ok my sleep deprived ass needs to sleeeeep. But omg I have this last brainrot before sleep. how would they react if red panda!reader marked thier rooms as her/his/thiers? (can't remember the gender for shit)

-your local dumbass 🐺

I don't know if reader would Mark any of the boy's room as theirs.

They'd definitely hide in there any time they need a nap somewhere they know is safe.

One thing that slowly took place was the reader's nesting in their own room. After long months of starting to feel comfortable with the team, they all exchanged rooms so yours would be in the middle of theirs. Surrounded by theirs. You remember the first time you even asked for nesting materials.

A bit too tipsy after celebrating an OP that had left you all bruised and tired. You wanted to go back to sleep in your room but something felt off. You stood in the hallway, your foggy mind unsure of what to do. Who to ask. You were frustrated, alcohol and tiredness and the sudden desire to nest in their scents overwhelming you that you ended up squeaking and sobbing. Earning all of their attention. The several doors opened to see you tear eyed in the middle of the hallway.

"what?!" Soap ran confused.

"what's wrong? Did something happen?" Gaz right behind.

"who?" Ghost growls.

"now now... Everybody calm down." Price rumbles softly yet louder.

You sniffle, embarrassed. Price tugs you closer to him, close to his chest. Your breathing eases, now surrounded by them and their smell. And he noticed. Of course he did. Price wasn't a captain for no reason. Furthermore, he immediately saw the way your sobs settled down after a few sniffs.

He sighs with a small smile. He picks you up, earning another squeak from you before he starts to walk towards your room. You tense in his arms.

"boys. Get some clothing, perfume or other stuff with your scent." He orders, feeling you hide in his neck.

They hurry to Price's orders as he softly puts you down on your bed.

You look up with a little frown, feeling pathetic.

"you know. You're part of the family now. If you need something, you should tell us. Even if you just need to nest." He explains softly.

"I... Didn't want to bother you or-"

"tsk tsk... None of that." He smiles.

The boys rush in, arms almost filled with clothes and objects of theirs.

Nesting is particularly private, so they allow you some space after letting you choose anything you need.

You spend a good few days nesting up your room in between duties. Soap keeps bringing more things. Gaz simply asks. Ghost, even though he's allergic to PDA, shuffles closer to you.. let's his shoulder rub into yours, his smell surrounding you. Price explained to them how you were in the first frenzy of creating and needing a nest. He indulged your behavior a bit more, your grumpy ness and growls.

When it was finally done, you brought them all to your room, embarrassed but proud. They all find some way to coo at you.

[heartgazing]

The Desire for Freedom

Chapter 1 || OPLA!Zoro x GN!Reader

Warning: slavery, slave auctions, human beings seen as objects by vile people :(

(chapter 2 can be found here).

You felt sick to your stomach.

The shouts of numbers from vile men treating you all as objects.

You were used to it, but it still made you sick. At a young age your father sold you off to the slave market for a few berries. Selfish bastard.

Now here you we’re waiting to be sold off at this auction held. This was about your tenth auction. The slave owners never bothered to keep you around, you were malnourished and a bit weak. You dragged your feet and always looked down. You couldn’t do much you had no energy.

All you dreamt about was being free and traveling the world. Maybe get back at your father but it wasn’t your main priority. You hated these useless dreams; they gave you hope and disappointment as days pass on.

You stood there looking down to the chains wrapped around your wrists and sighed. You rested your head on the wall behind you, eyes closed.

At that moment you opened them, you caught sight of green. There walked a man with mesmerizing green hair, he looked strong, he had three swords at his side. You wish you were strong maybe if you were you’d escape by now.

As if the man felt an unnerving stare his eyes met yours. Your eyes widen. He stared at you then walked away. At least you got to see his eyes you thought they were beautiful so full of life, of freedom.

Shaking your head to get the man out of your thoughts. The announcer stated a few more slaves would be auctioned then they would take a break and comeback. A guard was going along the line and stopped at the woman in front of you the other guard lead you and the others behind you back to the cages.

You got back to your cage all alone. Your cage-mates were the ones chosen to be the few sold before break. Finally stilling you sighed looking out the caged window. Closing your eyes to rest.

The man with green hair clenched his jaw and groaned. Hands clenched at the hilt of his swords, he took a turn and walked back to the auction from the behind the stage where the cages were.

Your eyes open upon hearing a grunt of pain, footsteps, and keys jingling.

The man with green hair began unlocking all the cages and reached yours. He made eye contact as he unlocked yours. Tears in your eyes as you look at his action. Your chest tightened as he threw the keys on the floor and walked away.

No one made a move. They all stayed in their cage.

You hesitated, then you made opened the cage the loud metallic creak brought all eyes on you, and quickly running after the green haired man. Opening and closing your mouth trying to speak but nothing came out. Reaching out you gripped the back of his shirt causing him to stop.

"Please help me escape from this island" You begged, lips trembling. The man simply began walking slower, no words stated but you understood. Following him wordlessly. He suddenly stopped causing you to look up, seeing him scratch the back of his neck, mumbling under his breath.

“Lost?” You whispered. For the first time since the cage the man finally turns to look at you.

“The docks should be here I turned, they should be right here” The green haired man groaned out.

“STOP RIGHT THERE SLAVE” the guards neared in an aggressive stance.

That word. It hits you that maybe that is all you are. You will never be free.

A hand settles on your head.

“Stay out of my way alright” you hear your savior say.

He beginnings unsheathing his two swords. The man ran and began slicing and fighting the numerous guards.

You see a guard behind him about to attack. You quickly grabbed a wooden chair and wacked him across his head.

“Ah hehehe” You whisper nervously as the guard stared at you viciously. Slaves were never ever allowed to fight back. You had to obey and take the punishment no matter what.

The green haired man shoves you with a grin “I told you to stay outta my way!”. He finishes off the rest of the guards and chuckles in amusement.

“My name is Zoro”

“Thank you…Zoro”

“And…”

“Oh! I don’t have a name”

“Mm, alright”

A/n: Hope this is okay! I’m way new to writing and the op fandom I’m just writing things I can get out of my head. I want to make this one a series, if you guys would like to please let me know :)

Update: It's a series now! go see chapter 2!

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @jiyascepter

Through The Years

Áki x Sađi

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: Áki being his sassy self, royal things? fluff, suggestive smut/light smut, food - a lot, mutual pining? Loki and Y/N being the best supportive parents ever. Let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 5,1k

a/n: Well... We reached one of the most important chapters... Áki is finding the man of his dreams! 🥰 I love this whole chapter very very much. It turned out just how I wanted. Also, this is my first time writing male x male, so... Pls go easy on me. ☺️

Kudos to @eleniblue , because she helped me plan out this whole story. Without her, this wouldn't exist.

❄️ Chapter Four ❄️ Chapter Six ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Five - Áki Finding Love

It was one of these days again, where the five-minute-older twin was on search for something to eat, aside from the regular meals. Áki had always been a little hog - since he was an infant. Well... Keeping the trained body of his and compensating all that energy he needed for training, a lot of food was required. That was just how it was.

So, the young prince made his way to one of his favourite places in the whole palace... The royal kitchen.

It was one of the few places, which were always busy. The kitchen was bustling with staff almost the whole day. Only at night was it completely, entirely quiet inside the big room. But when the prince rounded the corner and stepped through the open, beautifully crafted swinging doors of the kitchen, there were several Jotun's running around. Some of them cooks, some of them maids, some of them kitchen helpers - as per usual.

Áki knew everyone who worked there, of course. After all, he was the part of the royal family who spent the most time in this place of the palace. And, the staff knew him... "Greetings, your highness," addressed him first an older lady, wearing a white apron and a smile. Atla - she was a kitchen helper and already worked here for ages. Áki returned the smile and gave her a nod, before he continued his journey through his own personal paradise - and paradise was smelling delicious.

"My prince," the head cook greeted him as well, and took a small bow. "What can we serve you today? We've got a lot of food today." The young Jotun bit his lip in a thinking manner, before he answered: "I don't know yet. I'll keep on looking." Another bow from the head cook. "As you wish, my prince."

Áki's feet led him to the cool room, in which he finally found his 'object of desire'... Cake. Blueberry cake, to be precisely. Perfect for an afternoon snack. Having the good manners his parents taught him, he asked of course first, if he could have a bite of the cake - and who was the staff to deny him this? So, he took a big slice from the cake in his hands, smiling happily. But just when he made his way out of the cool room, an accident happened... Therefore, that the prince had to close the door, he had his back towards the main room. Turning around and walking away, his hard, muscular chest suddenly clashed against a not so strong and not so muscular chest, causing the cake to get sandwiched between his and the other Jotun's torso. Cream and blueberries were smeared all over Áki's bare chest, before it dripped to the ground, like the rest of the cake. And not just the cake... The poor man he crashed against with all his strength was send to the floor as well.

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry!" The man on the kitchen floor apologised immediately. The horror in his eyes was clearly visible, since he knew exactly who was standing in front of him and what he had gotten himself into. But the prince said nothing at first; had his eyes only settled on the poor soul who had crashed against him.

Áki had never seen the young Jotun before. Not here in the kitchen or elsewhere inside the palace. He must be new...

He was tall, but not quite as tall as Áki. His physique was not exactly the one of a warrior. He was a bit sturdier. Strong, but not muscular. His golden-brown hair was long; clearly reaching his shoulders, but currently tight up into a bun. Shocked, wide ruby eyes looking up at him. "M-My p-prince, I-I'm so clumsy, I..."

The prince was like frozen in time for a long moment, but he didn't know why. Just when his brain had caught up with the situation he was in, and Áki was about to say something, the head cook walked into the scene. "Sađi, you clumsy, feckless boy! What did you do?!" Sađi looked up to his boss with fearful eyes. "I-I-I..." He stammered; trying to somehow explain himself. The head cook leaned down and grabbed him by his arm. "Get on your damn knees and apologise to the prince, will you?!" He hissed at the younger man - inaudible to Áki, before pushing him forwards onto his knees.

Sađi was visibly a bit overwhelmed by the situation - and quite afraid of his chief; small tears gathering in his deep ruby eyes. "A-Apologies, your h-highness."

The pain in the young Jotun's eyes didn't go unnoticed by Áki. The usually so tough warrior's demeanour shifted. He squatted down and placed his hand on Sađi's shoulder. "You're forgiven."

That was the first time Áki's and Sađi's paths crossed. But it shouldn't stay at only one encounter, oh no...

Sađi had made a lasting impression on the prince. Áki couldn't put a finger on it, what exactly it was that kept the simple kitchen helper on his mind. It was just how it was. Perhaps it was the reason why his feet lead him more often than before to the royal kitchen? Just to get a glimpse at the attractive young Jotun, which had undoubtedly caught his attention?

The prince had noticed quite early in his teenage years, that he was more into men than women. His brother, you and Loki knew that, of course, but it wasn't a problem. Why should it be? Everybody accepted it - and Áki the way he was.

"You are my son, Áki. That won't change. Neither does the love I feel for you. If you like men, you like men. If someone can understand this, it's me." His father had told him with a smile and wink; hand placed on his shoulder. Áki liked to think back to that day. It had been an important moment in his life.

"What can we do for you today, my prince?" The head cook asked Áki, but the prince's attention was somewhere else; eyes directed on the Jotun with the long golden-brown hair. He watched him cutting some vegetables. A smile tugged at the warrior's lips, whenever Sađi swerved from side to side to change his cutting tactics. Or when a frown crossed his features, when the vegetables didn't want things to go as he did.

"My prince?" The head cook addressed Áki again, which caused him to shortly break his stare. "Yes? What did you ask?" "What we can do for you today, your highness." Áki's eyes started to travel immediately again. "I, uh... I'd like to have something sweet." "Something sweet?" Áki nodded, checking Sađi out, who currently had his back towards them. "Mhm, yes... Something sweet. Dessert." He just couldn't help himself. "Dessert?" "Yes." The cook nodded, "Of course, my prince." and turned around.

"Sađi! Prepare some dessert for the prince! ASAP!"

The Jotun nodded frantically. "Yes, Sir!"

Áki watched then with a smile, how the handsome kitchen helper ran from one point to the next, hurrying to finish his given task. Áki found it utterly cute how much effort he put in it. Just for him.

About five minutes later, Sađi approached the prince cautiously; trying to appear as polite as possible. "Dessert, your highness." Áki smiled and took the plate from his hands; ruby eyes boring into the matching ones of Sađi. "I thank you." Sađi swallowed and flashed the prince a small smile as well. "I hope it is to your liking." "Oh, I am sure it tastes delicious." With those words, the warrior turned on his heels and left the kitchen again.

Their next encounter was only a few days later. A very fateful encounter, to say the least. Perhaps it was destiny...

The night had settled over Jotunheim. It was past midnight so everyone was asleep. Everyone, except Áki. The prince had just woken up to a rumbling stomach; signalling him to get some food inside him. So, that's what Áki did. He stood up and made his way - like so often, to the kitchen. It wasn't the first time, that he took a little trip to this place of the palace at night, but it's been a trip he didn't do in a long time. Usually, he kept some food in his chambers, but someway somehow led his feet him today to the kitchen - and what he found there, was something he didn't expect even in his wildest dreams...

A dim light was shining on the dark hallway; coming undoubtedly from the kitchen. With furrowed brows, Áki sneaked to the big room. One hand was resting on the dagger, which was in the pocket of his dressing gown. Ready to face whatever danger or thief lurked inside, the warrior stormed the room - only to find the young Jotun, on which he had casted an eye.

"What in the name of Yggdrasil are you doing here?"

Áki's voice echoed through the kitchen, causing Sađi to yelp up and flinch. He was so frightened, that he threw with shock the onion he was holding in his hand away. "P-Prince Áki, I-I..." He stammered, turning beet red. The prince crossed his arms over his chest, stepping closer. "Again, I am asking... What are you doing here? Or should I go, get the guards?" Sađi's eyes widened even more. "O-Oh, no, no, by the n-norns, please don't! I-I need this job, I... Please! I-I'll tell you everything! Just p-please don't get the guards!" "Alright," said Áki and leaned against a kitchen counter. "Tell me."

The young Jotun nodded and took a deep breath. "I-I am practising." Áki frowned. "Practising?" "Y-Yes, because I wish to become a cook. I-It is my biggest dream, b-but I can't reach this dream without practicing. And the head cook doesn't let me practice, s-so I sneak inside the kitchen at night, t-to practice. N-Nobody usually ever comes here at night..." "Well, I do." Áki pointed out; stepping closer to the kitchen helper, causing Sađi to swallow hard. "So, you'd like to become a cook, yes?" "Y-Yes, your highness."

Áki nodded towards the several pots and pans standing on the stove. "Show me what you got then." Sađi was a bit confused at first. "W-What?" "Show me what you got." "O-Okay. I-If you wish, my prince." With a shaking hand, he took a small plate and put something from the dish he cooked on it, before handing it Áki, who tasted it on an instant.

Full of fear and anticipation, Sađi gazed at the warrior prince. He started to nod. "Yes... Tastes not bad. Needs improvement, but it's definitely not bad. You got talent, I see." "T-Thank you, your highness." Áki thought for a moment, as an idea crossed his mind. "I have an offer for you. A deal..." He started, circling the Jotun like a predator its prey. "A d-deal?" "Yes," he hissed, causing a shiver to run down Sađi's spine. "I'll tell nobody about your little... trips here at night. I'll let you keep on practicing. And as a quid pro quo, I'll get to taste and eat the wonderful dishes you cook. Do we have an agreement, Sađi?" The aspiring cook nodded with a small smile. "Yes, yes, absolutely! I thank you, my prince."

From that point on, the two men meet often at night in the royal kitchen. Sađi to improve his skills as a cook and Áki to quench his hunger. Over the days, weeks and months, Sađi's cooking skills improved - and not just that... Their relationship as well. They went from barely knowing each other to way more. The lines of royal blood and not royal blood slowly but surely blurring. While Áki let his guards more and more down and stopping his princely behaviour, Sađi got more open and confident.

And when the prince was really bold one night and asked Sađi, if he had a girlfriend, the kitchen helper blushed in the deepest shades of red and told the warrior that he was more into boys and not girls.

This fateful night caused the sexual tension to grown undoubtedly between them. Every accidental touch left a prickling, sizzling sensation behind, which caused both men's skins to burn. It was like an ever-burning fire, which was indelible.

At one point Áki just decided to act on it. He started to leave his dressing gown at his chambers, attending the nightly meetings only in his sleep shorts and giving the young cook more to look at; subtly urging him on to make the first move. It threw Sađi off track, of course, but not even with all the confidence he had gained over the weeks did he dare to make said first move. So Áki had to do it - or optionally making Sađi cave in. Both ways would work for the prince just fine...

"Now you have to slowly add the wine," Sađi explained; looking happily, but concentrated at the prince. He was in the zone; definitely enjoying what he was doing. Someday, Áki had asked him what exactly he was doing and how he was going to do it, and since that night, Sađi explained happily every step of a new meal he learned and practiced to cook. Áki though, mostly didn't pay attention. At least not to the young Jotun's instructions. He was way too distracted by Sađi himself...

"Add the wine?" Áki asked, eyes glued to Sađi's hands, which gripped the bottle of wine. "Yes, but slowly." He added some of the wine to the pot, causing it to steam. "Have you seen how much?" "Mhh," the prince answered absent-minded; had only paid attention to the bulging veins in his crush's hand and certainly not to the amount of wine. "What's next?" "Next, you have to stir the sauce and slowly add a bit more wine. Look." Sađi demonstrated what he had just explained - and Áki saw the first opportunity tonight to make his move.

While the aspiring cook stirred the sauce, Áki stepped even closer towards him. He placed himself behind Sađi, so that he could look over his shoulder; all the while pressing his bare torso against Sađi's old, shabby chef's jacket clad back. His arms sneaked around the Jotun. One hand landing on top of Sađi's (The one which was stirring the sauce.), and the other on the edge of the counter; literally caging the man. It caused a soft, almost inaudible gasp to leave the gold-brown-haired Jotun's lips. But Áki heard it, of course and started to grin.

"Do you need help with that?" The prince whispered in Sađi's ear; making sure to keep his voice as deep and husky as possible. The cook shivered. "I-I-I, uh... Actually n-not, b-but, uh, s-sure," he stammered. A sign that Áki's move had been fruitful. He had clearly put him off his stride. "Alright." Áki added and slipped his fingers through Sađi's, in order to help him stir the sauce. The longer the warrior's touch lasted, the more started Sađi's hand - which held onto the bottle of wine - to shake. Something that didn't slip Áki's attention as well. "Now, now what is the matter, young Sir Bjørnson? Are we nervous?" Sađi swallowed hard; his Adam's apple bobbing. "I-I-" Áki smiled; happy to be able to get such a reaction from the cook. If there was something he was good in, then it was fighting - obviously, flirting and seduction. The mixture of yours and Loki's genes clearly playing a big role in this one...

"Or... Is it the touch of my body against yours?" Áki breathed in Sađi's ear. "Am I too close to you, or... Too far from you?" Every hair on Sađi's neck was standing up at the prince's words. He had a hard time to control his breathing. "Hm?" To test the theory, Áki took a small step backwards, to bring some space between his and the young male - who let out a small whine immediately. Once the realisation dawned on him, Sađi's eyes widened. But he just couldn't help himself. It just had slipped past his lips - just like the soft moan, when Áki pressed his body back against his, "Ahh, I see... Too far." including his hips.

Sađi's eyes went shut at the sudden, very intimate contact. This only made it worse - in the best way possible. He felt like standing on the edge of a cliff and Áki was the one in control; deciding whether he was going to fall - or not.

"Better?" Áki asked in a low voice. A question which the young Jotun could only answer with a shaky nod. "Good. Now where were we? Ah, the sauce, right. Continue, please."

Sađi's head started to spin. How dare he? How dare he brings him in such a situation? How in the nine realms would he be able to keep cooking, with the handsome prince's crotch pressed against his bottom? "M-My p-prince, I-I-" His voice was so hoarse, it died in his throat.

The prince grinned even wider. Almost. He almost had him. "Yes?" "I-I... Can't, I..." Time to make the final move, thought Áki. Quickly - before Sađi could even react, he had spun the gold-brown-haired Jotun around in his embrace. Two hands gripping now the edge of the kitchen counter; pinning the surprised cook between the warrior's body and the cool, hard furniture. "You can't, huh? Well... Is there something else you'd rather do than cooking?" Sađi's mouth opened and closed, but no words were leaving his lips. The warrior smiled, "Go on, say it. I know you want me to." and leaned closer to his ear once more. "But I won't do it, unless you tell me to."

And with that, the dam finally broke. Sađi fell off the cliff; free falling. "K-Kiss... Kiss me."

Áki's heart skipped a beat. Finally. Finally! "Very well." Within the blink of an eye, Áki cupped Sađi's cheeks with both hands and literally slammed his lips on the young man's. Sađi was immediately enchanted by the kiss; hungry lips searching for more. It had been long overdue.

The prince soon brought his body into the game; pressing it against Sađi's and trapping him even more. The Jotun whimpered into the passionate kiss at the sudden friction; hands clawing into Áki's muscular waist.

Only when it was hard to breathe for them, did they break the kiss. Both panted; lips red and kiss swollen. In a rather bold move shifted the warrior his hands, until they landed on the cook's bottom; pulling him even closer against himself and creating more friction. "Spend the night with me," he spoke in a low, seductive voice, almost growling. Sađi's eyes widened. "S-Spend the night with you? I-I don't know, I..." His words caused Áki's heart to sunk. "Don't you... want to spend the night with me?" Sađi quickly shook his head; clearly noticed the sad tone in the Jotun's voice. "No, no, no, norns, no! I want nothing more than to do just that, but..." Relief flooded the warrior's veins. "But what?" Sađi sighed. "My prince, I-" "Stop," Áki interrupted him immediately. "It's Áki for you. No title, no formalities." He nodded. "Áki, I... I don't know if this is a good idea. You are the prince and I am... me..."

The prince shook his head. "I don't care, Sađi. I just want you. We can keep it secret and no one has to know, but please... Don't deny me. I waited so long for this. All I longed for was to kiss you. Touch you," he said, running one hand over Sađi's broad back. "Feel you. Hel, I lost count of how many times I touched myself to the thought of you." Those words send another shiver down the cook's spine. A tingling sensation formed in the pit of his stomach and gathering in his crotch. Sađi blushed, eyelids fluttering. "Y-You did that?" "Mhm," Áki purred and Sađi swallowed.

"I'd say, we clean here up as fast as possible and then take a trip to my chambers. What do you say? You'll even get a free room tour. And perhaps I take you into my bathing chamber as well." He winked, causing Sađi's knees to buckle. "I'd love to, my pri- Áki." The prince smiled, before sealing 'the deal' with another passionate kiss.

This was one of many nights the two men spend together in secret. It was more than just a one-night-stand. Áki had fallen for the handsome kitchen helper already a long time ago, even before he started to bed him. And the warrior was certain, that what he felt was, without a doubt, love.

As for Sađi, it took him some time to sort out his feelings. Was it just fun? Was it serious? He was torn a very long time, but in the end, Sađi couldn't deny that there were indeed feelings involved. At least from his side. He struggled quite a bit to interpret Áki's signals and unfortunately got them wrong. One oppressive thought led to the other, and at some point, it escalated and Sađi couldn't take it anymore...

Sađi was the last one in the kitchen today - like so often. After all, he was still nothing more than a helper and the other kitchen staff loved to leave the cleaning up to him. His dream of being a cook not yet palpable.

It didn't take long for the prince to join his lover, like he did whenever he got time and was not busy with royal duties. Making sure, that nobody was around, Áki stepped over to Sađi, who was currently cleaning some pots and pans. "Do they still leave you alone to clean up their mess?" It wasn't really a question from the warrior; rather an assessment. Áki wrapped his muscular arms loosely around Sađi's torso; chest pressed against back. The prince angled his head, tried to catch the aspiring cook's lips, as he looked over his shoulder - but Sađi avoided Áki's attempt for a kiss and turned his head away. "You know that they never stopped it."

Áki frowned; noticed immediately that something wasn't right. "What's wrong?" Sađi shook his head, "Nothing." and stepped away from the prince. Áki didn't believe a single word, of course. "Oh, come on, Sađi. Tell me what's wrong. I am not blind." The young Jotun answered nothing, just kept on cleaning up the mess. Áki shrugged his shoulders; was quite a bit offended. "Fine. If you don't want to talk, I'll leave." The prince turned on his heels and marched towards the open doors. What he didn't see coming, was Sađi's voice, holding him back. "We can't do this anymore." The warrior stopped dead in his tracks. Frowning, he slowly turned to face the golden-brown haired man he fell so deeply in love with. "What do you mean?"

The handsome kitchen helper took a deep, shaky breath. "This. Us. It has to stop." Áki was utterly confused. "Us? Why? Why does it needs to stop? Do you..." He swallowed. "Do you not... enjoy yourself?" Sađi shook his head, causing a few strands to break free from his loose man bun and to fall into his face. "N-No, I... I do enjoy it. What we have is... thrilling. Magical, wonderful - but..." Tears gathered in his beautiful ruby eyes. "I can't do this to myself anymore, because it breaks my damn heart every time." Áki still wasn't able to follow his words. "It breaks your heart? Why?" Sađi buried his face in his hands; almost desperately, that the oblivious prince didn't catch what he was trying to say. "You are the prince, Áki! I am a mere kitchen helper and wannabe cook! Just think about what the people - your people would say about this! Or the king and queen!" He scoffed; shaking his head. "I get that you are free to sleep with whoever you wish. I guess it's your privilege as a member of the royal family, but... I don't want to be your lover anymore. I don't want to be just another man on a long list of affairs. I'm not the only one you are bedding - and it destroys me, because..." Sađi paused for a moment; drawing in another shaky breath. "Because I fell in love with you! And I'd rather leave, before my heart gets entirely broken."

With those words, the aspiring cook threw the towel he was holding inside his hands on the kitchen counter, passed by a literally stunned Áki and headed straight for the door. But just like Áki before, he got stopped. The prince needed a moment to collect himself, though. His brain needed to process first, what his ears had heard. But once it did, a warm feeling spread throughout his whole body - and he smiled. "Sađi." He spoke up firmly, causing the other Jotun to stand still; freezing in his movements. "I won't let you walk out of that door." "W-What? Why?" Sađi's face mirrored confusion, as he turned to look at the warrior. Seems like they both had been oblivious to the other's feelings...

"Because I love you, you blind, silly boy."

Sađi blinked. Stunned. "I... You... W-What?" He definitely needed a moment to process that. "You... You love me?" He asked; disbelief swinging in his voice. Áki just smiled and stepped closer to his lover, gently taking Sađi's hands in his. "Yes, I do. Perhaps since the first time I had ever laid my eyes upon you." The helper blinked again, then looked at their intertwined hands. "I-I-I-" "Ah.Ah," the prince interrupted him, while walking Sađi towards the next wall. "Less talking..." He pressed his body against the cold stone surface; hands wandering to the helper's hips. "... and more kissing." With a smoulder only his father could do better, Áki's lips found Sađi's, asking them for a dance.

Áki's and Sađi's worlds were suddenly more than just alright. They had found each other, were helplessly in love and enjoyed the rare time they had together. Nevertheless, they decided to keep this a secret at first, except for one person. Váli. Váli was the only person who knew, since Áki loved his twin brother dearly and shared everything with him. But the secret itself didn't stay a secret for long anyways...

It was time for dinner in the palace. Áki was the first one to find his way to the dining hall, of course. You were a little late, and Loki and Váli not present, since they were away on Svartalfheim for some royal duties.

"Hey," you greeted your son warmly, placing a hand on his muscular biceps, before you sat down. "Hey, mom." "Sorry for the delay." Áki smiled, "No worries. I learned to wait." and winked, causing you to giggle. While you and your son ate, you talked about anything and everything. You enjoyed the moments you could spend with your sons, since they definitely lived their own life's by now.

Mere ten minutes later, dinner got served - and for the first time by none other than Sađi. When Áki saw his boyfriend walking towards the table, together with two other servants, his heart sped up. Of course, he was more than happy to see him, just like Sađi was, but the two of them tried hard to not let it show - which turned later out to be not really successful.

It was simple gestures. Things the two men didn't even realise. The subtle smiles, lingering gazes, eye contact, hand brushing... They didn't notice - but you did. After all, you were Áki's mother and it was kind of in your instincts to notice everything, right? You more than once bit your lip in order to hide the smile. Your son had seemingly found love - and you couldn't be happier. To be entirely sure, though, you decided to address him.

Once dinner was over and there was no servant left - just you and Áki, you took the initiative. Áki already stood up, though and was on his way to leave, when you stopped him. "Áki, hey, wait a minute, please." Your son waited, of course; turned to face you. "Yes, mom?" You patted on the chair beside you, smiling. "Take a seat." Without hesitation, Áki did what you ask him to. Full of anticipation what you were going to say, he looked at you. You reached out your hand and brushed a lose curl of his raven hair behind his ear. He looked so much like his father. You smiled even wider. "So... Who is he?" The prince frowned. "Who is who, mother?" You nodded towards the closed doors, which led to the kitchen. "The handsome servant with golden-brown hair."

Áki turned red on an instant. "I-I, uh..." "I know you two tried to be inconspicuous, but... Let's say it this way… It didn't quite work out." Your son cleared his throat; knowing that their secret wasn't a secret anymore. "Well, mom... His, uh... His name is Sađi and he works here as a kitchen helper. But he aspires to be a cook." "Sađi... Beautiful name - and an aspiring cook? What a perfect match for you." You smiled. "So, it is something serious between the two of you?" He nodded; unable to suppress a smile. "Yes. We are together." "That is wonderful, son. I'm happy for you." Áki smiled bashfully. "Thank you, mom." The so confident prince suddenly wasn't so confident anymore. "It... It isn't a problem for you that he's 'just' a kitchen helper and no prince or of royal blood?" You shook your head and placed your hand on his. "Why should it? Quite the opposite... I'd love to meet him properly one day. As long as you love each other... That's more important than anything. Than status or heritage. Believe me when I tell you, I know what I am talking about - and so does your father." Áki smiled. "Thank you, again. And yes, I promise you, you are definitely going to meet him properly one day."

Another smile crossed your face, as you leaned over to hug your son. A gesture which he returned gladly. "Áki... I am so proud of you. Just... Look at you. You've grown into a strong, confident young man. You are proud of what you are and who you love. It's beautiful." The prince almost started to cry when he heard this. "Oh, mom, I..." He hugged you again; now even tighter. "And your father is proud, too. I hope you know that." He smiled. "Yes... I know." "I love you." Your son backed up from the tight embrace to press a kiss on your cheek. "And I love you."

Tags: @eleniblue @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @icytrickster17 @chennqingg @glitchquake @princess-ofthe-pages @elegantcheesecakecrown @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @herdetectivetheorist @loz-3 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @simping-for-marvel @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @salvinaa @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @kimanne723 @mandywholock1980 @xxannyxx @the-holy-trinity-I

[mykoreanlove]

Single

“Hyunjin, please. I beg you. I need you!“, you whined dramatically.

The object of your desire was standing in front of you, painting peacefully in his well lit atelier.

„Y/N, I told you already I’m not the right one for you.“

He muttered his rejection so easily, the words were rolling of his tongue without a single care. Watching him paint was one of your favourite pastimes: the concentrated look in his eyes paired with his vulnerable aura made him so attractive, so brilliantly talented. This is why you got down on your knees and begged for your life - if your exhibition had to be a success you couldn’t do it without him.

„Hwang Hyunjin, Artist of artists, please. Please, please, please.“, you begged shamelessly.

Finally, Hyunjin averted his gaze from the canvas on to you.

„Begging on your knees. Really, y/n?“

„You leave me no chance. What else am I supposed to do?“, you snapped.

He let out a deep sigh and mustered you intensely.

„Listen, your exhibition is all about love. Crazy, stupid, romantic, can’t live without you kind of love. I can’t draw that. That’s just not who I am.“, he explained flatly.

„You are the most romantic person I know, Hyunjin. You breathe love. How can you not be the right fit for me?“

He shrugged his shoulders. „I may be breathing love but love is suffocating me.“

„Aren’t you dating anyone?“

„Haven’t been for a very long time.“

„Why not?“

„Because love is not for me. I’ve seen this over and over again.“, he replied drily.

Confusion settled on your face - someone as attractive, as charming and as talented as Hyunjin was bad at love?

„Oh, I get it. You’re fucking with me, right?“, you snorted out laughing. „Good one but now is not the time for jokes, Hwang. Paint me a fucking masterpiece, please!“

Now he was the one looking at you puzzled.

„I wasn’t joking. Love is not for me, y/n.“, he said sternly.

„How can that be? You are drop dead gorgeous - how could someone possibly dump you?“, you asked in confusion.

„I’m sorry but I can’t date you anymore.“

„Why?“

„It’s just.. you’re just too pretty for me.“

„I, what?“

„I’m sorry but I can’t live like that. I’m constantly anxious because I’m afraid some girl will steal you from me. Next to you I look like a sack of potatoes and I just feel so bad. I don’t.. I don’t want to feel like that. Sorry, Hyunjin.“

„Shit, did that really happen? I had no idea people like you had it rough, as well.“, you blurted out.

„What? You think life gives you a free pass because of some pretty features?“

„I mean it normally does.“, you mumbled under your breath.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at you, annoyed by the false perception of others which he was used to.

„Okay, but surely not all girls were like that? What about your charisma? You’re so charming, girls love that!“

„This doesn’t work, Hyunjin.“

„Why not?“

„You treat me too well. What’s up with the date nights and flowers? You always listen and remember the smallest things about me. You encourage me and stand by my side and that’s not normal.

„You don’t consider that normal?“

„No! All my friends hate me because I’m living this fairytale romance and I can’t risk losing them because you’re not a dickhead like all the others.“

„Okay, now you’re just making shit up.“, you gazed astonished.

„Do I y/n? Do I?“

„Hold up - you’re telling me you got dumped multiple times because you were too handsome and too nice? Where do you even find those girls?“

Hyunjin shrugged his shoulders, he had often asked himself the same thing.

„Wow okay. I had no idea you were such a loser in the love department…“, you muttered under your breath.

Hyunjin grabbed the brush and continued painting.

„Hey wait, what about your talent? Are you telling me ladies don’t want that?“, you jumped excitedly.

„There was only one.“, he said sternly.

„One? Like the one? Like your first love or something?“

He nodded.

„So that’s it! Paint about your first love, then!“

Hyunjin stopped painting for a minute as he recalled his first love, the one he lost his innocence to.

You noticed the change in his demeanour, further pushing him to spill the tea.

„What was she like?“

He took another deep breath before he recalled those times.

„She was a visionary. Brilliant, smart, sexy. Someone who knew what she wanted. She saw the world as her canvas and herself as the brush, painting the wildest masterpieces with her whole being.“

„She sounds lovely.“, you replied.

„Yeah..“, the sadness in his voice was heavy.

„Until she wasn’t.“

„What does that mean?“

„She was in a rut when her and I got together. Not only stuck in her life but also her art. Although, those things might have merged into one. So, when she met me she kind of used me to fuel herself. To regain that spark for life, so to say. And when she had it back, she no longer needed me.“

„That sounds tough. Sorry, Hyunjin.“, you answered truthfully.

„It was tough. I had to keep seeing her every day at school.“

„Couldn’t you have switched classes?“

Hyunjin grabbed the brush again and continued painting, his gaze was set on the canvas.

„What good does switching do if she was the ambassador of art?“

Goosebumps formed on your skin as you realised what he was implying.

„Hyunjin… the one you are talking about… was that your art teacher?“

He halted for a second, not averting his gaze though.

„Oh Hyun, I am so sorry.“, you said with teary eyes. Hyunjin found himself in your strong embrace, as you slung your arms around his waist.

„You were a minor, a child…“, you cried out loud.

A sly grin formed on his lips. He was touched by your concern - concern from others was something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

„Y/N, I didn’t tell you all of this so you would feel sorry for me. I simply wanted you to understand why I’m not the right fit for your exhibition.“

„I’m sorry I ignored you, Hyunjin. Sorry.“, you cried into his back.

Inspired by your tears he suddenly had a different idea in mind.

„But what if…“, he turned around and faced you again. „What if I give it a different spin?“

„Different spin?“, you asked as you wiped away your tears.

„What if instead of painting a love that’s common and known I’ll paint a love that’s pure even though it’s shamed?“, he proposed excitedly.

„I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hyun…“

A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

„What if the purest and strongest love one can have is with oneself? Because ever since I swore off love I lived like that. I love me. Can’t that count as well?“

Being his friend was one of the greatest joys of your life because he always managed to evolve your way of thinking, of seeing things differently.

„I didn’t even think about that…“, you admitted ashamed.

„So? Is that a yes?“

You nodded your head cheerily.

„Yes. I‘d love to incorporate your spin. I’d be honored to, Hwang.“

A sad smile formed on his lips as he proceeded painting. Even if this kind of love wasn’t the one that was written in the books, it was the one kind of love that always kept him warm even in the coldest of nights.