#mischief managed second life

[saffronsplace]

A Dandy Lion

pose @ foxcity - observe

dandelions @ cutecvlt - dandelion bouquet - yellow

hair @ tableau vivant - nany hair in blonds dress @ pixicat - debra dress (FLF) shoes @ enchante' - dani sandals - tropics (FLF)

LOVE - DANDELION SEEDS SCATTER 1

[cumironi]

MY LITTLE VIRGIN ！ ❞

GOJO SATORU , your used to be upperclassmen who happened to be your friends-with-benefits teaching you how to kiss, also the one who took your virginity.

warning. highschool! gojo satoru ( early twenty and you are nineteen ), virginity lost, fingering, raw/unprotected sex.

wc. 2,8k

“hehe... it's amusing how you're still clueless about kissing,” gojo remarked, seated on your bed. his fingers traced along your neck, gently moving up to your chin. in your friends-with-benefits dynamic, you'd sought gojo's guidance on kissing, a proposition he willingly accepted.

“prepare for the best kiss of your life,” gojo chuckled, leaning in closer to your face. lifting your chin, he gazed at your lips with a playful glint in his eyes. blushing profusely under gojo's intense gaze, you nervously lick your lips. “i'm ready, satoru. . .” your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain eye contact with him.

gojo smirks at your nervousness, finding it endearing. he leans in, closing the distance between your faces until his breath caresses your skin. gojo's smirk widens as he notices your blush deepening. his thumb gently brushes against your lower lip, parting them slightly. “nervous? there's no need to be. just relax and let me guide you...”

with those words, gojo closes the remaining gap between you. his lips meet yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. his free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head for better access as he deepens the kiss.

after a moment, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “like this... follow my lead and let instinct take over.” feeling overwhelmed but also strangely exhilarated by gojo's expert touch, you nod, trying to follow his instructions. your hands tentatively reach up to rest on his shoulders, holding onto him for support as he continues to guide you through the kiss.

as he pulls away again, you can't help but whimper softly in protest. but then you see that teasing smile on his lips and realize there's more to come. his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, gojo chuckles softly at your reaction. “oh? did you want more already?”

without waiting for an answer, he captures your lips once again in another searing kiss. this time though, he adds a new element— his tongue slips past your parted lips seeking entrance into your mouth. the sensation is overwhelming and intoxicating all at once. you find yourself responding eagerly, mimicking gojo’s movements as if driven by some primal urge.

pulling back after what seems like eternity but was probably mere seconds, gojo gazes down at you with satisfaction. “see? that wasn’t so bad now was it?” but before giving you time to respond, he leans in once more for another tantalizing kiss.

moaning softly into the kiss, you wrap your arms around gojo's neck, pulling him closer. your body feels electrified from the intimate contact, and you can't get enough of his taste, his scent, the way he makes you feel.

when he finally breaks the kiss again, you're left panting and dazed, struggling to regain your composure. “th-that was... s-satoru,” you manage to stammer out, your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. looking up at gojo with hooded eyes, you bite your lip and murmur, “more please... teach me everything...”

a low chuckle rumbles from within gojo's chest as he takes note of your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. “mmm... you're quite the eager student aren't you?” he leans down to capture your lips once more in a long, slow kiss that leaves both of you breathless when it ends. pulling back slightly, gojo looks into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“i’ll teach you everything... but remember, practice makes perfect. so let's keep practicing until we've perfected this art form together.” and without waiting for another word from you, he dives back into another passionate kiss— this time taking things even further than before.

lost in the whirlwind of sensations, you forget all about being shy or inexperienced. all that matters right now is gojo and the way he makes your entire body tingle.

your hands roam freely across his back, feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. you press yourself closer to him, wanting nothing more than to lose yourself completely in this kiss. every flicker of gojo's tongue against yours sends sparks shooting throughout your body. each brush against your sensitive lips draws moans from deep within your throat.

breaking away from the kiss momentarily, you gasp for air while looking up at gojo with lust-filled eyes. “more... please don't stop...” gojo grins wolfishly at your plea, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, “as you wish...”

he trails hot kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. one of his hands slides underneath your shirt, skimming over your stomach and ribcage before cupping your breast.

at the same time, his knee nudges your legs apart as he settles himself between them. the pressure of his hips against yours sends jolts of pleasure through your core. returning to your lips, gojo kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all of his desire into the embrace. when he finally pulls away, you're both panting heavily.

“how do you feel now? ready for round two?”

your mind is foggy with lust, unable to process coherent thoughts beyond the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. all you know is that you crave more of gojo's touch, more of his kisses, more of everything he's doing to you.

arching into his touch, you press your breast harder against his palm, silently begging for more stimulation. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction against the hard length of gojo's thigh. when he asks if you're ready for round two, you can only nod frantically, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form words. your lips seek his out once more, demanding another scorching kiss.

this time, as your tongues dance, you start to explore gojo's mouth with yours, learning the contours and depths of him. a satisfied growl escapes gojo as he feels your breasts pressing into his hand and your hips grinding against him. he loves seeing how responsive you are to his touches, how eager you are for more.

sliding one finger down from your breast, he teases along the waistband of your pants before dipping beneath the fabric. his digit traces lazy circles against your heated flesh, drawing soft whimpers from deep within your throat.

breaking off from the kiss, gojo looks down at you with a burning desire in his eyes. “let's make sure this second round is even better than the first...” with those words, he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them upwards to stroke that sweet spot hidden within. at the same time, his thumb finds its way to your clit and begins circling slowly around it.

“feel good?”

a loud moan tears itself from your throat as gojo's fingers delve deeper, hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know existed. your back arches off the bed, pushing your chest towards him. his thumb on your clit is pure torture— each circle sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. it feels incredible, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

your nails dig into gojo's back, leaving red marks where they claw at his skin. “‘toru. . .” you gasp out between moans, “feels so good...” your hips move instinctively against his hand, chasing after that elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach.

gojo's eyes darken with lust as he watches you writhe beneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. he loves seeing you like this— completely uninhibited and at his mercy. “that's it baby, let go. give in to the pleasure...”

he increases the speed of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you at a rapid pace. his thumb presses down firmly on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. gojo leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to mix pain with pleasure. his other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“come for me. i want to feel you fall apart on my fingers.”

the combination of gojo's relentless fingering and relentless thumbing sends shockwaves of ecstasy crashing through your body. every thrust of his fingers, every circle of his thumb pushes you higher and higher until there's no turning back. a strangled cry rips from your throat as you finally tip over the edge. your walls clench around gojo's fingers in rhythmic spasms, pulsating with each wave of orgasmic bliss that washes over you.

your entire world narrows down to the feeling of gojo's fingers inside you and his thumb working magic on your clit. the pleasure is so intense, so overpowering that it threatens to consume you whole. as the last tremors subside, you collapse back onto the bed— spent yet utterly satisfied.

gojo continues to pump his fingers slowly inside you as you come down from your high, milking every last drop of your release. once your spasms have ceased, he withdraws his fingers with a satisfied smirk.

“look at you, coming undone so beautifully for me. you took your lesson well, i must say.”

he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your essence off them with a low hum of appreciation. “delicious. . .” leaning over you, gojo captures your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. after a moment, he pulls back with a mischievous glint in his eye, “but we're far from done, sweetheart. there are still plenty more lessons to be learned... and i'm just getting started.”

even though you're still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, a fresh wave of arousal surges through you at gojo's words. the thought of what else he might teach you sends tingles racing down your spine.

you manage to push myself up onto your elbows, your heavy-lidded gaze locked onto gojo's handsome face. “show me, teach me everything...” without waiting for him to respond, you reach down and unbutton your pants with shaky hands. the cool air hits my overheated skin as you peel off your clothes piece by piece, exposing more and more of yourself to gojo’s hungry eyes.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you lay bare before him— vulnerable yet filled with anticipation for whatever comes next. watching you strip off your clothes, gojo's cock twitches eagerly against his own trousers. he lets out a low chuckle, admiring the sight of your flushed skin and swollen breasts.

“i love seeing you like this— open and willing. it's incredibly arousing...” he moves closer, his blue eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of exposed flesh. reaching out, he runs a single finger down the center line of your body from collarbone to belly button, savoring the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch.

“now, let's see how well you can please someone.”

with that said, gojo starts unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. his throbbing member springs free— long and thick— standing proudly erect against his lower abdomen.

“are you ready to take me on?”

your breath hitches in your throat as you watch gojo undo his belt and unzip his trousers. the sight of his erect member makes your pussy clench in longing. in response to his question, you nod vigorously, unable to form words due to the intense desire clouding your senses.

you reach out tentatively towards him, wanting nothing more than to wrap your fingers around his shaft and guide it towards your needy entrance. but instead of taking control, you wait patiently for him to initiate contact again.

as you lie there before him— naked and wanting— anticipation builds within you like never before, finally realizing that gojo is going to be the one who took your virginity. gojo smirks at your eagerness, enjoying the way you stare hungrily at his manhood. he steps out of his trousers and kicks them aside, revealing himself fully to you.

“there's no need to rush... we've got all night.”

he positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his cock against your slick folds. the tip rubs gently against your clit, spreading your wetness across both areas. looking up into your eyes, gojo gives you a wicked grin, “relax and enjoy the ride...”

slowly, he begins pushing into you— stretching your tight walls deliciously wide around him. each inch that enters fills you up more completely than anything ever has before.

“feels fucking amazing doesn’t it?”

“fuck!” you cried in pain the moment he's bottomed out inside you. your nails digging into his biceps and eyes tightly shut from the pain of your virginity being taken with his massive cock.

at your sharp intake of breath and pained cry, gojo pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sudden fullness. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, offering reassurance despite the fierce grip of your nails on his arms.

“shh, it's okay... just breathe. you're doing great.”

once you seem more comfortable, he carefully starts to rock his hips, withdrawing slightly before pressing back in at a slower, more controlled pace. the movement helps ease the initial discomfort, gradually building the pleasurable friction between your joined bodies.

“see? this isn't so bad, is it? in fact, it feels pretty damn good already...” as gojo starts moving, the initial pain begins to fade, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. it's almost like your body is remembering how to accommodate something so large inside you.

you manage a weak nod, still struggling to catch your breath, “y-yeah... it's okay now. . .” emboldened by the gentle rhythm, you start to move your hips in sync with gojo's, meeting him thrust for thrust. a soft moan escapes your lips as the pressure builds anew, this time centered on the sweet spot deep within you that he seems to hit perfectly with every stroke.

mindlessly, you tangle your fingers in his white hair, pulling him down for a desperate, clinging kiss as if trying to merge your very souls together through the intimate act. gojo grins against your lips, pleased by your growing responsiveness. he deepens the kiss further, tasting your sweetness while continuing his steady thrusts.

“that's right... let go and feel everything...”

he breaks away from the kiss only to trail hot kisses down along your jawline and neck. with each downward stroke of his tongue against sensitive skin, he matches it with another slow plunge into your welcoming depths.

feeling your inner muscles clenching around him drives gojo wild; he can tell that despite being a novice at sex, you were born for this kind of pleasure. the combination of gojo's relentless thrusts and teasing kisses sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. your mind becomes a blur of sensations— the feeling of him filling you completely, the sound of his low growls echoing in your ears, even the scent that surrounds you is intoxicating.

a loud gasp tears itself from your throat as he finds that perfect spot again and again, causing sparks to fly behind your closed eyelids, “oh god! ’toru. . .”

your entire focus narrows down to the point where they connect— it's overwhelming but also addictive. you find yourself arching up into him instinctively, urging him deeper.

“please don't stop. . .”

hearing you beg for more spurs gojo on, his movements becoming more urgent and powerful. he grips your hips firmly, using the leverage to piston into you at a frenzied pace.

“fuck, you feel incredible, so tight and wet for me.” his harsh breathing mingles with yours as he chases his impending climax, driven mad by the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping his cock. “gonna fill you up so g-good, baby, mark you as mine...”

gojo's thrusts grow erratic as he nears the edge, his balls drawing up tight against his body. with a final, brutal shove, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and holds still, roaring out his release as hot jets of cum flood your insides.

your whole body trembles violently beneath gojo as his seed floods your womb. the intense heat and pressure trigger an explosive orgasm in you, sending shockwaves of pure bliss radiating outward from your core.

your inner walls clench and flutter around his pulsing length, milking him for all he's worth. a strangled scream rips from your throat as wave after wave crashes over you, leaving you drenched in sweat and utterly spent.

“oh fuck! s-ah!atoru!”

as reality slowly comes back into focus, you realize just how deeply connected you two are at this moment— physically, emotionally and spiritually. there's no turning back now; you've been claimed by him in every possible way.

collapsing onto you, gojo lets out a satisfied sigh as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. he plants tender kisses along your collarbone and chest, marking you as his own in ways beyond mere physical possession.

“that was... incredible.”

still buried deep within you, he slowly starts to withdraw from your clenching walls, allowing them to stretch and contract around his softening member. each pull sends another jolt of pleasure through your system, prolonging the high.

“feel better now?”

despite having just given you the most intense experience of your life, gojo looks at you with genuine concern and affection. after he collapses onto you, his heavy weight provides a comforting warmth against your cooling skin. his chest rises and falls rapidly against your breasts, matching the frantic beating of your heart.

despite the exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being, there’s an undeniable satisfaction that settles deep within you. you run your fingers lazily through his disheveled hair, feeling proud yet vulnerable at having given yourself so completely to him.

“that was... incredible,” you murmur softly, give him a tired smile, looking up into those captivating blue eyes filled with raw desire and affection.

with a contented sigh, gojo leans down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. his tongue sweeps against yours softly, savoring the taste of you mixed with the musk of their combined arousal.

“mmm, i knew you'd be amazing...”

he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his expression a mix of pride, adoration, and possessiveness, “you're mine now, in every sense of the word. never forget that.” gojo rolls off of you and gathers you close, cradling your body against his as he strokes your hair soothingly, “rest now, my little virgin. we've got a lifetime of pleasure ahead of us.”

nestled securely in gojo's embrace, you let out a happy sigh, feeling safe and cherished in his strong arms. your eyelids grow heavy as the aftermath of your intense lovemaking washes over you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

in your dreams, you see flashes of the future— moments stolen from time, memories made with gojo, and a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. when you awaken, you know without a doubt that you belong to him, and he to you, forevermore.

as you drift off to sleep nestled against him, gojo watches over you protectively. he runs his hand gently across your back, marveling at how different things could have turned out had he not intervened earlier today.

but fate brought you here, together. and though he may be many things— powerful mage, leader of jujutsu high school— nothing compares to how much he cares for this fragile human girl now lying trustingly beside him.

he smiles softly as he listens to your quiet breathing, knowing that whatever challenges await them both, they will face them side by side. for better or worse, you are his now.

“sleep well, my love.”

[doestalker]

plug!eren yeager who finds you crying on his front porch during one of his pool parties. makeup running down your cheeks, your body shaking from the cold air hitting your bare skin in the outfit you were wearing, a black bikini top and some mini shorts that hugged your figure.

he sits next to you, lighting up a blunt and asking you what's wrong, eyes glued on the way your chest heaves with each hiccup as you try to calm down.

eren frowns when you tell him you found your boyfriend making out with the girl he told you not to worry about, practically fucking each other with their clothes on. he stays silent for a few seconds, baffled by the idea that someone would have the nerve to cheat on an attractive girl like you.

and he shares that thought as he passes you the blunt. you accept it with a light giggle, taking a puff and looking at him from head to toe. he was wearing a white tee and baggy jeans, his medium-length hair in a half ponytail with a few loose strands framing his sharp features. you notice how the silver of his chains highlighted the green in his eyes. he was undeniably attractive, and the way he stared at you made it clear that he found you cute too.

as you pass him the blunt back, eren asks you who your boyfriend was. his brows shoot up in disbilief when you tell him it was jean kirsten.

saying jean and eren weren't fond of each other would be an understatement. they despised each other. jean saw eren as an arrogant pot-head with no future beyond a life behind bars, while eren viewed jean as a stuck-up hypocrite—someone who talked trash behind his back but came crawling when he needed a fix. their animosity was deeply rooted in their mutual disdain.

the corners of his mouth twitch upward, and a sparkle of mischief dances in his eyes as he offers you a way to get back at jean. he's practically brimming with excitement at the thought of how furious that horse-faced idiot would get when he sees you with him. you don't know if it's the mix of alcohol and weed or eren's deliciously intoxicating aura, but you think it's a good plan—great even—so you agree.

next thing you know, you're down to your bikini, clinging onto eren's shoulders as you make out with him in the pool. his lips are soft and wet from the pool water, and his tongue—exploring posessively the inside of your mouth, tastes like raspberry vodka. your hand glides easily through his damp hair, grip tightening as he nips at your lower lip, his teeth sinking gently into the soft flesh. his fingers dig firmly into the sides of your hips, holding you tight against his firm torso.

you felt someone's gaze burning into you, so when you pull away from the kiss, you turn your head and meet with jean's eyes.

you wanted to laugh. he looked so furious even though the same girl he was making out with before was wrapped around him.

"what a fucking clown," eren muttered softly against your ear. "how could something like him bag someone like you?" there was a hint of something in his voice, but you couldn't manage to figure out what.

you answered him with another kiss. now that you knew jean was looking at you, you made sure to put on a show. your legs were now tangled around eren's waist, and your tongue danced with his, your lips making an erotic wet noise as you explored each other hungrily. you've never kissed jean like these, not in public at least.

a small, high-pitched giggle escaped your lips as he boldly moved down his hands to greedily grab your ass and guide you both towards the edge of the pool. all the while, his lips remained locked on yours, his kiss unbroken as he manouverd the both of you out of the water.

the cold air hit your body the moment it was out of the pool, sending a shiver down your spine and making you stay against eren's impossibly warm body. he looked down at you with a soft smile, tucking a loose hairstrand behind your ear.

or,

plug!eren yeager who has his hand firmly planted on the back of your head, pushing it into the matress, while he pounds into you. your clothes are now scattered around his bedroom along with his and the loud music blasting from the backyard couldn't muffle the wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his length.

"ahh, eren~" you whined, barely able to breath with the suffocating pressure of his hand and the rapid pace of his hips.

"yeah? you like that?" he said, and you could hear the smirk on his face. he took a long drag of his blunt, his thrusts slowing a bit, just to tease you. and when his lungs were full of the intoxicating smoke, he pulled you close to him by your hair. grabbing you by the cheeks with his other hand, he blew the smoke into your open mouth. "take it, baby," eren ordered.

you aspired as much as you could, already feeling lightheaded, then exhaled the smoke back into his face. eren smiled, proud, and gave you a wet kiss on the cheek. "that's it, baby, good girl." you moaned at his praise.

eren brings the blunt close to your lips, he didn't need to say anything as you took a drag from it. it was kinda difficult, since he was still pounding into you, so it took two tries to line the filter with your mouth.

"good. girl." groaned the brunette through gritted teeth, his lustful eyes almost completely black from his dilated pupils. it was now your turn to shotgun the smoke into his mouth, and of course he took it like a champ.

he puts the blunt away on a small tray next to you, which had rolling papers, filters and a lighter. it was your idea to take this to his bedroom after that panty-dropping kiss, but it was his idea to roll a blunt while he was buried deep inside your cunt. but goddammit if it wasn't hot.

you were used to having boring sex with jean. the missionary only kinda sex. you've always desired to be manhandled, for him to take you from behind, to slap you or to spank you. it never happenned though, and you didn't push it too much.

but now? oh boy.

eren was fucking you like a beast. the way he pounds his cock into your cervix, in contrast with the way he praises you like you are the prettiest girl he's ever been with? it was all driving you equally crazy and to your climax. you swear you started seeing stars.

"i'm gonna cum, babygirl, m'gonna fill up that tight little pussy, hm?" eren pants, sliding his hand through the curve of your arched back, back and forth, until it's resting against your ass cheek and leaves a hard slap there.

"erenn! please, fill me up," you whined, voice muffled by the matress. "fu-uuck, i'm gonna cum~"

"cum on my dick, princess, want you to cream my fucking cock like a good girl."

let's just say, jean had no way of winning you back now that you tried plug!eren yeager's cock.

[yieldtotemptation]

ANACHRONISM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part one of strange currencies

14k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like any of this happened by accident.

Like you totally didn’t mean to charm some poor, pretty little thing; dazzle her with the wealth, the fame, the you of it all.

Have her spreading her legs for you, bunching her dress up over her thighs, serving herself up like she’s one of those ludicrously expensive banquets you frequent, pleading—

"God, I need you inside me, like, right this fucking second."

Because here’s the truth of it all, what you’ve come to realise about this woman who has never once in her entire life been reduced to something as pithy as poor or pretty or little; let alone anything short of extraordinary. This wildly successful, elegant to the point of being untouchable, and just really, really fucking gorgeous idol:

Nothing about Myoui Mina is accidental.

Even all this—her idea: showing up at your suite uninvited, leaning against the doorframe, panties hanging off her fingertips. Showing off how ridiculously drenched she is for you and how badly she wants you to do something about it.

If only these walls could talk.

“Hurry up,” she’s gritting out. Deadlocking the door behind her. Still not used to waiting for anything, apparently. “Come on, I need your cum. Anywhere you like. Just inside me. Now.”

You should be more surprised. Instead, you’re laughing. “Patience, darling.”

A step forward, pants hitting the floor, cock in hand. Running the tip of it across her folds, making it shiny with her slick, forcing this sigh from her lips.

You pause, just to make her whine. To make her give you what you really want to hear.

Mina bites her lip.

Squeezes her eyes shut.

She knows the deal.

"Please."

That word, that crack in the composure, the control that Mina is so used to maintaining everywhere else but here. It’s the thrill of it all—the challenge in the attempt. Taking someone like Mina, all perfect posture, sparkling teeth, effortless grace; and bringing her to her knees.

Figuratively speaking, mostly.

Only, her phone lights up.

You look down and see it, left abandoned on the floor somewhere in Mina’s rush to get to you. But now its glow is stark against the dark parquet, beaming with messages by the dozen. All different variations on the same question: where the fuck is she?

Her eyes flicker to the screen, then back up to yours. There's a silent conversation happening there—desire fighting with duty, lust with loyalty.

You make it easy for her.

A push is all it takes, really. Cunt yielding to your will, cock sliding into that ridiculous tightness.

She freezes.

Braces herself.

Whimpers.

“Priorities, Mina,” you grunt through it, breaching in deeper; assaulted by the heat of her cunt around you, choking each inch. “Remember, you asked for this.”

The phone keeps buzzing, panicked vibrations at your feet. Urgent messages becoming calls, flashing faces across the screen. You can see them one-by-one, see Mina’s reaction as they pop up—sighing when she sees her managers name, eyes widening when a rather flirty photo of Chaeyoung comes next, and then her entire body tensing, tightening around you at the next picture:

Her and her boyfriend, arms thrown around each other, both looking all beautiful and famous and so very much in love. The perfect couple; so picturesque it might as well have come right off a billboard.

“God, fuck,” Mina groans out, panting, breathless. “You’d think they’d—ah—just leave me alone for one—single—night—”

“Should we snap some photos? Add them all to a group chat, send them through? Let them see the look on your face and figure it out from there.” 

Mischief flashes across her eyes, mouth open to answer back with something that is no doubt clever and suggestive and designed to get you both into far more trouble than you’re already in—but she doesn’t get a word of it out.

You’re slamming into her.

Mina nearly comes apart then and there; eyes snapping shut, neck arching, back banging against the hard, unforgiving wood of the door behind her. Her lips round into this perfect ‘O’ of surprise, and this sweet, sweet needy whine comes slipping out from her throat.

And just like that, she’s all yours again. 

It’s not like the phone goes silent—it just stops mattering.

“Asshole,” she’s saying—grinning now, doing that Mina thing where she says one thing but means another, expecting you to read the underneath. Which this time is—touch me, pull me close, pin me and keep me fucking trapped while you fuck the air right out of my lungs.

“Now there’s an idea.” You’re kissing her, tongue past her lips, tasting the rush of the forbidden, the lines she’s crossing just so she can have you filling up her cunt.

And there’s all this noise—the sound of your cock thrusting into her, skin against skin, shaft into wetness; the buzzing of the phone, her cries of your name dying in your mouth.

Oh, you know it’s going to be brutal if anyone was to overhear, if you’re caught and all this gets out. The narratives that will be crafted, the cliché of it all, the sizzling hot headlines that will undoubtedly paint her, as they are wont to do, in a million different unfair ways.

Seductress. Gold-digger. Slut.

But even as you’re fucking her deep, lips marking up her skin, digging your fingers into the meat of her ass and making Mina cum so hard that all she can say is— “please, please, please,”

—you know the facts, no matter who’s begging who under the shine of the outrageously garish chandelier hanging overhead:

You're the one that chased her first.

—

(It’s incredibly fitting that this whole thing started with a celebration.)

—

Taking a step back, to months earlier, at a gala:

Where it’s becoming apparent to you, and seemingly, just you, that Mina’s the only one here that doesn’t look entirely out of place.

Or at least, she’s the only one that seems to fit amongst the grandeur; the imposing pillars and archways, the ornate cornices, the glint of gold and jade beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the shadow of the palace itself, cast over the sprawling garden like a looming guardian.

The anachronism of it all is the concept, or so you’ve been told. The new, the future—your company—against the backdrop of the old, the traditional. A fusion event, meant to celebrate and honour the past right before yanking it to the future; and yet it all somehow feels so…

Boring.

The same faces, the same games; sharks in a sea of corporate sabotage and political machinations. They’ll smile for you, sing your praises to the highest heavens, do everything they can to make you remember their name—right up until the moment you show your back.

All this to say, it’s going to be very hard to last four hours without wanting to punch someone in the face just to make things slightly more interesting.

(Oh come, one and all. Throw yourselves at the feet of Korea’s youngest self-made billionaire, and hope that by some stroke of luck or misplaced charm, you might just catch a crumb from his table.

That’s what this whole exhausting circus feels like to you.)

So, when you’re about done with what seems like the hundredth round of fake laughs and vacuous pleasantries with yet another politician who’s trying to sell you on the importance of family, and coincidentally, his very marriageable daughter, you make your escape.

Something about needing a drink.

Ease out of the circle, let the noise of the gala swallow you up like you were never there, and navigate across the garden to the bar.

Where you find her.

Mina, something of an anachronism herself; looking more at home amongst the pagodas and the cherry blossoms than in the company of suits and ties and plastic smiles. Like she’s been painted onto the scene; rendered in living colour—stark white, midnight black, blue silk. Or cobalt. Maybe azure.

You’ll have to reserve some time later to ask her about the colour of her dress.  

What’s important is that she’s alone, which seems like a crime in and of itself, on account of, well, how fucking breathtaking she is. Add that she’s here at all, and it all amounts to some kind of serendipitous miracle.

(An idol, a celebrity, willingly spending her free time in the company of the elitist dregs of society? The world's gone mad.)

You don’t really need an excuse to join her; you know her, technically. Not intimately, but in that same way that everyone in this high society tapestry is threaded together. An award show here, a charity function there—the kind of acquaintance that lets you say hello without raising eyebrows, but not much more.

All this to say it makes some sense to slide yourself onto the barstool to her right, ignoring that the rest are completely unoccupied.

The smile that Mina gives you as you approach is a little sharper than it needs to be, a little too knowing.

“You’re not going to ask if this seat’s taken?”

You return the smile, a mirror image of hers, and lean onto the bar. You don’t even need to look at the bartender; your drink is in your hand, cold and crisp, the second you set it down. “I thought I’d risk it.”

“Neat trick,” Mina says, posting her chin on one hand, watching the sleek liquid slide down your throat. She’s got a flute of champagne in front of her, untouched.

There’s a gravity to her, you’re realising only when you’re this close. Something in the way the moonlight's kissing her skin, a blend of porcelain and peaches, glowing. Maybe that’s why she’s been left alone; the other guests were smart enough not to get swallowed up in it all. Better to appreciate at a distance than to drown in it.

She regards you for a beat, runs a finger around the rim of her glass. "Shouldn't you be off being the centre of attention somewhere? Shaking hands, kissing babies, that whole bag?”

“Nah," you’re dismissive, looking back out to the crowd milling about, lost in their own conversations and power plays. "This whole thing's more for them than it is for me."

Mina scoffs. Raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. You follow her eyes—across the banners, the placards, the giant projection cast onto the palace itself.

A brushstroke circle—the logo you designed—swirling around, stamping itself on what was once a symbol of absolute power, now reduced to just another stage for the rich and the elite and all their insignificant little games.

You feel the need to clarify. “For the company.”

Mina ripostes. “That just so happens to be named after you.”

“Just one of those funny coincidences.”

“Apparently so.”

It does occur to you that it should be somewhat startling how instantly familiar you feel around Mina. Slipping into casual conversation—light jabs, coded compliments; all soaked in insinuation. Just enough edge and implication to keep you on your toes.

There's an ease to her, to how she smiles, how she laughs, how she just sits there, all drop-dead gorgeous and oh, this? Nothing special, just how I always am.

So it’s only natural that somewhere in all this easy banter, between your third drink and her second, her hand lands on your forearm, your knee brushes against hers and you both decide to stop being so subtle.

You pick your moment, as she’s thumbing through a menu of drinks she’s already deciding she doesn’t want, to try to solve the mystery of her. Past the red of her lips, the edge of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Along the neckline of her dress, where the silk clings like it’s afraid of letting go, and down to where it dips and angles out; the open shoulder, the collarbone, the swell underneath.

It’s the sum of it all, you’re realising. The dress, the look, the woman.

(Accentuate without revealing. Tease without giving away the prize. Show off that flawless ass and dare the world not to look. And yeah, they fucking look. They all do.

You’re just the only one that doesn’t look away when you're caught.)

But now, you could reach out and touch her; unlatch the straps of her heels, run your fingers from her ankle up, up over the smooth expanse of her calf, her knee, the bare skin of her thigh right where her dress decides to daringly split, and underneath, until your hand is filled with the heat of her and all she knows is you.

You could complete her. Or she, you, you think.

Only, there’s a slight misstep in an otherwise immaculate ensemble.

A necklace.

A ridiculous, ugly, tacky thing. Hanging off her like a misplaced jewel on a swan; more ‘costume party’ than ‘refined modern gala’. Fighting the simplicity of her gown, offensively jarring, especially against the serenity of the moonlit garden.

Mina notices you staring. “A gift.”

“Boyfriend,” you realise, doing the math in your head. A careless present, given by someone who doesn’t know (or doesn’t care to know) her. Hoping the flash, the dollars spent overshadows the unfamiliarity.

(It doesn’t.)

“Partner,” Mina confirms. There’s a slight dip at the corner of her mouth, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of something unpleasant. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you caught it. “A little too old to have a boyfriend.”

“Hm.” You click your tongue. Narrow your eyes. You’ve been told that it makes you appear disarming. “And where is this partner?”

Mina’s smile returns. She takes her first sip of champagne. “You tell me. Don’t you sign off on all the invites?”

“Just the important ones.”

“Even so, not like he would have come if he was invited.” Mina leaves you to fill in the gaps. “A tad too public. For the both of us, really.”

“I see.”

And you do. You’ve seen your fair share of these types of arrangements, participated in a few, even. At the beginning, the secret of it all, the cloak and dagger; it’s exhilarating. But that only lasts so long. Eventually, like all things, it fades. Leaving you with someone who you don’t really see, who you don’t even know, and the sinking realisation that maybe the thrill was the only thing that kept it interesting. 

“So,” you lean forward, drawing your conclusion. “You’re here. All alone. Stuck in a relationship with someone dumb enough to let you go out looking like that.”

“Careful.”

“It’s just,” you offer, your gaze lingering on her throat, “You don’t strike me as the type to settle for anything less than you deserve, Mina.”

That makes Mina pause. Almost flinch. Imperceptibly if you weren’t looking so closely at her lips. The sound of her name rolling off your tongue, like it's always been there, waiting to escape—it has her reeling.

And yet, somehow, she recovers.

“Because you know me so well.”

So, you switch up, throw a curveball. “Is it the sex?”

To her credit, Mina barely reacts to that provocation, as if she was expecting the follow up. Just takes another sip of her champagne with a grace that seems rehearsed. You’ll have to try harder.

She shrugs a bare shoulder.

"Sex is just sex. It’s not everything."

“So, no sex at all, then.”

Mina’s smile is like a knife’s edge. “Are you always this forward?”

“All I’m saying,” you keep going, somewhat emboldened by the game, by the warmth of the whiskey poisoning your kidneys. “If it was me—”

Mina’s hand slides up your forearm, ending somewhere around your triceps. You’re close. Close enough to inhale her perfume; cinnamon, smoke, darker than anticipated. You’d fill your lungs with it, if you could. “If it was you.”

You take another drink. She watches.

And it clicks into place. What this really is. What she’s really doing here.

The slight tilt of her shoulder, a slip of her dress—just a fraction. A shift in her seat and suddenly, the silk has risen, too high, and there’s a stretch of skin leading up to a flash of lace that’s more moonlit than the night itself.

The suspicion sets in. Was she waiting for you?

Mina laughs.

You ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” Mina says, lowly. Grinning, like she’s reading your mind. “How even you’re the same.”

“How so?”

“All you men. How you see me, how you’re looking at me right now.” She reaches up to her neck, taps the clunky stone hovering over her throat. Once. Twice. “Making it about you. You think I need saving.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open once more to protest—

“That’s what you think.” Mina interrupts, smirks; and your eyes are on her lips, wondering if anyone would be able to pull you off them if you were so lucky enough to taste them. “What you want is to own me.”

“Mina,” you regard her, openly. Honestly. “I could never dream of owning you.”

She nods back towards your logo, emblazoned across the castle walls. “Because you’re clearly not the type of person that likes owning things.”

And there’s a realisation here, as she’s staring into your eyes—a real, actual, bone-deep revelation—that she's been doing the same thing as you this whole time. Reading you, until she's seeing through you.

The silence stretches, thick and sweet , and it’s obvious to see where this is heading. The idea that’s being sparked—lean in, kiss her right here, right now, with all these eyes on you. Kiss that smirk right off her face, steal whatever clever rebuttals she’s composing from her lips, the flirtations that she’s left hanging in the air. Replace them all with your name.

But it’s all hypothetical, for now.

“You’re not even thinking past right now, are you?” Mina asks, amused. "The rumours you've started just by sitting next to me."

"Rumours."

"The kind that ruins careers. That never leave. That would make him want to kill you if he found out."

Another sip, letting it burn down your throat. Think about it. Attack it from every angle—

(Doesn’t it just make sense; the billionaire, and his beautiful celebrity partner? Or even if there was a scandal, just a one-night fling; wouldn’t it be worth it?

You could both live off the thrill alone, it’d reignite whatever embers her boyfriend hasn’t stomped out yet.)

“Maybe I want the rumours.”

Mina’s eyes widen. It’s the first time she’s dropped her guard.

“If you were mine,” you start, and stop immediately, reining in that last word on the tip of your tongue. “If you were my girlfriend, partner, whatever label you want to put on it. I’d tell the whole damn world. Broadcast it on every channel. Make sure everyone knows exactly who I’m fucking every single morning, afternoon, night.”

You’re hitting the mark of something, you can tell, because Mina’s hand tightens around your arm, and she doesn't seem to mind when yours lands on her thigh. A flash; the thought of spreading them, of seeing her laid bare underneath you. Or flipped over in front of you, crumpling that dress around her waist, so you can take proper purchase of that ass that’s been hinted at all night long.

And all of a sudden, she doesn't seem to be as spoken for as she might have led you to believe.

She bites her lip. Keeps it there for a second, two, before letting it go.

“So, this is what you usually say to all the pretty girls you invite to these parties?”

The alcohol’s loosened your tongue enough to state truths you’re supposed to keep to yourself. “I usually don’t have to say anything at all.”

Mina challenges. “Must be nice, being this rich, cute, and charming.”

“The being rich part does a lot of the hard work.”

“So, the cuteness and the charm?”

“I’ll let you decide,” you finish, watching her smile spread, the corners of her eyes crinkle. It makes your chest tighten.

“I suppose, in your perfect world,” Mina surmises, and now she’s so close that your knee is splitting the difference between her thighs, and you’re already planning the logistics of it all—the where, the how— “this ends with you fucking my brains out behind one of these old houses.”

“I’ve got a few in mind.”

“I bet.” Mina takes one last pull of her drink, empties it, and sets it back down. “And afterwards? After you’ve made me forget my own name and made the entirety of my existence revolve around your cock—what’s your plan then? Who are we—who are you going to be?"

You finish off your own glass, setting it down with the same deliberate clink as hers. “You know, the funny thing about money is," you say, sliding your fingers up her thigh, higher, higher. "It can make you whoever you want to be. So, the real question is—who do you want me to be?"

You’re holding your breath as she answers: “Not some knight in shining armour. I don’t need a saviour. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what do you need?”

Mina inches, gets close, and now her breath’s a tickle on the shell of your ear. She bites. “Just someone to help me scratch an itch.”

There’s a moment, somewhere before Mina threads her fingers through yours, lets you lead her through the throngs of guests and into the shadows of the palace; where all of this—this want, this need, boils over. Where Mina kisses your cheek and warns:

“You don’t have the time for me.”

Now it’s your turn to grin; reaching up to her throat, slipping that necklace off her, leaving it to clatter onto the granite below never to be spoken of again.

“Maybe. But I can make every second count.”

—

This is how you end up:

Pinning Mina to some ancient wall; the moon’s spotlight spilling over the contours of her body, a hand tangled in her hair, the other pushing her dress higher up her thighs.

You weren’t lying, you did have a place in mind. Namely, by the west gate, where a house that used to be the servant’s quarters stood. It’s a part of the palace that’s been neglected in the reconstruction, and thus, ironically, the most authentic part of this whole sham.

A true hideaway for those not to be seen or heard; a building that’s seen centuries of service, of lives lived in the shadow of royalty, and now it’s going to bear witness to this, to you and Mina, undoing each other with every passing second.

Something a little sacred, a whole lot profane.

She’s smiling against your lips; a smirk, more likely. Because she’s new to this kind of thing—the almost romantic picture the two of you are painting—chaste kisses stolen in quiet corners of royal residences. The kind of thing that could fuel a dozen dramas.

But you both know better.

So, you let her start things off, let her set the pace for this evening's affairs. And Mina, to her credit, is gracious enough to tell you exactly what she wants.

(Kiss me harder, touch me here, please, please, don't let go.)

Twisting the lapels of your jacket in her hand, desperately pulling you closer, even though there's no more room left. Kissing you with longing. Making you believe that she's missed this—missed you—despite the fact that you've only just officially met. And sure, it's a lie, but it's a lie that feels so good, so right, that you’re willing to indulge her.

Indulge yourself.

Your lips veer off the corner of her mouth, ignoring the tongue and teeth that try to keep you there, the hand that kindly urges you to not stop kissing her.

Because you’ve got a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down the seconds before someone calls you or her away, or more problematically, catches you and her, a heap of limbs and lust and fucking in the dusty archives of history.

You break away, keep things moving, kiss your way along her neck, feel her heartbeat drum against your lips. Follow her neckline down, down; find this sweet little spot, a darkened freckle right on top of her collarbone that makes her sigh.

“Tell me something, honestly.” Mina finds her voice the same time your fingers meet the promised lace of her underwear, turning her words into these breathless moans. “How often do you do this?”

You tug the fabric pooling at her waist—once, firmly—and Mina’s dress slips from her shoulders, whispering down her arms and leaving her in nothing but flawless white and a strapless bra that matches the silk in hue. 

You smile, look up. “This?”

Mina clarifies, "Whisk some innocent girl away into a deserted corner and—"

She’s cut off by the click-clack of her bra releasing behind her back, your fingers slipping beneath the cotton, and you’re filling your hand with the swell of her breast; so soft, so perfect.

The sound when you touch her and she gasps; if only you could capture, keep it forever. You’ll just have to make sure she keeps making it—kneading gently, rolling the pebbled peak of her nipple between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it bead and tighten.

Your lips to her shoulder, you ask, “And what?”

Mina sighs, “fuck her completely, thoroughly senseless,” and you swear there’s something revelatory about how she says it—sinful ideas from saintly lips.

"Honestly?" You pause, your gaze lingering on the goosebumps rising across her skin. "You're the first."

Her laughter's a surprise; it's light, disbelieving. "First?"

"First tonight."

Mina's smile widens, her grip on your jacket tightens. "You're so full of shit," she says, but there's no malice in it. Just the thrill of the hunt. Or, being hunted.

You don’t bother to argue the point; let her think what she wants. Instead, you lean into it (into her), let your other hand snake around her thigh, over the elastic of her panties and lower, until you’re palming the curve of her ass.

Firm, taut, flawless—because of course it is; exactly like the rest of her. She’s so hot under your touch; the softness, the smoothness of it. And you know—without a doubt—you’re going to worship this ass.

A squeeze for good measure—balancing the fine line of respect and greed. Mina yelps—surprise, pleasure.

“God,” Mina shudders, does her best under the assault of your lips on her neck, fingers pinching, tugging, hand squeezing. "You're—oh, you're not so bad at this."

You press a kiss to her throat. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Miss Myoui.”

“Please, not with the government names,” Mina hisses, her cheeks flushing a soft pink that matches the glow of the lanterns outside.

“Apologies.” You chuckle, slipping your hand underneath the band of her panties, and around—down—pressing against her and sinking lower until you’ve got a proper hold of her. Soaking wet and dripping heat onto your fingertips.

A cry from her lips. A shiver. A buck of her hips.

Her hands shoot to your chest.

“Please, kiss me again.”

You oblige—how could you not, with the way she’s begging?

Her nails dig into your shirt, her breath hitches as you push your finger—your index—past her entrance and inside, and just before she can moan your name into the night air, you’re filling her mouth with your tongue, licking inside.

You kiss her like it’s your first kiss, like it’s your last. Like the only way to calm her down is with your mouth and your tongue and your teeth. She’s so wet and tight and pulsing around you, she’s trying to suck you in; and fuck, when you’re knuckle-deep she bites down on your lip so hard she nearly draws blood.

The moans that she's filling your mouth with; this symphony of want sends a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire straight to your cock. You're straining—against your trousers, against her thigh, straining against the urge to rip that dress off her and leave her bare, but you're not there yet.

It's about her, about needing her, making her beg for it. Making her so desperate that she'll do just about anything to get you inside her.

(Because there’s something about her, about Mina, that just makes you want to take your time. To learn the ins and outs of what makes her tick. The secret spots that make her moan into your mouth, the places to touch that make her shiver, the sighs and sounds that only you can coax out of her.

It’s etched into every line of her body; every curve and sharp edge—just pure heat from head to toe; And there’s a beauty so absolute in her perfection, the dash of makeup, the careful draping of her hair, it’s too good not to ruin. To not want to leave your mark on her in some way so that everyone knows she was once yours, if only for a night.)

“You’re just so needy, Mina.” You hum into her jaw, when your lips slip from hers and you struggle to resist the urge to leave these marks on her. Her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Every part of her that she’s offered to you, every part you’re eager to claim. “Like it’s been ages since someone’s touched you like this.”

“I don’t—please—” is all Mina can manage, because the pad of your thumb is ghosting over her clit, pressing in and circling, and the way her pitch rises and she sighs your name gives you your answer:

It’s been a while.

“I don’t think—gah—” She tries agin, but you torture her with another finger, stretching inside her, sinking in and curling upwards. “I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this.”

“Good,” you tell her, and she shivers when your voice rumbles through her, when you drop down and your lips go low again, and you take one of her stiff peaks between your teeth. “I don’t settle for second place.”

“Neither do—God—I—” Mina braces herself against the wall behind her, failing to find anything but cold brick to hold onto as you map out the rest of her with your hands and your fingers and your lips.

She’s so, so hot for you; you would’ve never predicted it, not in your wildest estimations. Never thought just how easy it would be to undo someone so poised and put-together like Mina, to render her into this puddle of need.

“So why don’t you show me then,” Mina breathes, voice trembling as much as she is. You suck deep, swirl your tongue, make her arch her back to push more of herself into you. “What all the—oh my—what all the fuss is about."

“As you wish, darling.”

And there’s part of you that’s recognising the awfulness of what you’re doing, taking something—someone—that’s not yours, and having her tell you all these things, finger fucking these words of oblivion from her lips, touch me, please I need it, kiss me harder, more, more, make me feel it, make me feel you.

But even that part of you is so, so small right now, buried deep down with everything that isn’t Mina, with everything that isn’t her pussy clenching around your hand, or the taste of tits on your tongue.

Ignore all thoughts of the after, of what happens when you’ve made her cum again and again, and you’ve wrecked yourself in the pursuit of it all. What happens when you return to the throngs of nobodies, all rumpled and flushed and red, and the whispers start flying, and the glances are no longer just knowing but shamelessly envious.

That’s a problem for future you.

Right now, you’ve nearly stripped her entirely, pressed up against a wall that’s seen more than its fair share of secrets, and your two—now three—fingers are ruining her in a way that has her dancing on that borderline.

“I’m close, so close,” Mina cries, but you already know.

Because you’re already giving it to her; everything she wants and then some. Touching her, fucking her with your fingers, pushing her higher, watching her unravel.

Making her whine against your skin, making her eyes squeeze shut like she’s afraid of what’s happening, afraid of how much she wants this.

“We’re only just getting started, Mina.”

You let her nipple pop out from your mouth, leaving it to bob in the cool night air, sensitive and dying to be back between your teeth. Hand shifts from her hip, sliding up to cradle her jaw, to tip her face back—force those deep, dark eyes to open so you can really look at her.

Panting, pupils blown wide, and the sight of her so undone sends another wave of heat straight to your cock.

“Look at me.” It comes out harsher, more of a firm command than intended. It does its job. “You're going to cum now.”

She nods, frantically, eyes locked on yours as your thumb traces over her bottom lip, feeling it plump and swollen from your kisses. Her tongue darts out, swipes over the pad, tasting herself and you; and you’re thinking about filling that mouth of hers, or maybe that cunt, or if she’s game, that tight, untouched little asshole.

But one thing at a time.

“I’m going to eat your pussy,” you’re saying everything you’ve dreamt of saying to her since you first saw her, first caught sight of that ass daring to wander past your line of sight; and suddenly, every raw, filthy thought you’ve had of her is coming to the surface. “Then I’m going to fuck you. Again and again. Your cunt, your mouth. That ass. I’m going to take it all. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, darling?”

Mina breathes, nods, signing a verbal contract to let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, promising you all of her, every part of her you’ve so shamelessly craved.

“Good.”   

And so, you drop to your knees.

You glance up at her. She looks down at you.

Like she’s been burning for this; like she’ll combust if you make her wait a second longer.

Pushing her dress up until it's around her waist, keeping it up with your hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wider. And you’re seeing her pussy, the darkened, plump flesh—bare, wet, begging—and so, so pretty.

Fuck—what kind of guy could resist this?

(The kind that buys her jewellery without knowing the first thing about her. The kind that leaves her to sit alone at a gala like a trophy on a shelf. The kind that doesn’t get to taste her—doesn’t know how.

The kind that’s not you.

And maybe she was right—you do think you could save her.)

“What are you doing?” Mina huffs, impatient.

You smirk, unable to resist the urge to drag this out, to keep her on edge a little longer. "Just appreciating."

Mina's eyes narrow, but the smile never leaves her lips. "Well, appreciate faster."

You don’t need to be told twice.

Take her by the hips, spin her around, make her inhale—sharp. Force her to look away from you, to face the cold, indifferent wall, to brace herself.

“Wait, why—”

“Hold your dress up for me,” you mumble against her thighs.

Mina’s hands obey, holding the silk out of the way; and now she’s bent over, like a fucking present. Letting your eyes drink in her ass; unable to do anything but just stare.

How the moonlight kisses the curve, makes the shadows play against it. So perfect. So round and tight and full. Fruit so ripe you could pluck it from the tree with your teeth.

You’re leaning in, kissing the top of her thighs, right below where her cheeks spill over. Kissing up, a soft press of your lips to one cheek, the other, and fuck Mina’s trembling; barely holding it together, and you’re just getting started.

You drag your nose up, across the cotton of her panties and inhale her deep. Sweet and musky, a fine wine that’s been left to breathe, and she squirms.

Shivers under your breath.

And when Mina sighs something that sounds suspiciously like a warning—because she’s not the type to let you get away with anything like this so easily—you take the band of her underwear with your teeth, feeling the fabric stretch. Thin, delicate, begging to snap.

The panties fall away, down to her ankles. The sound of her heels tapping the ground as she lifts her legs to let it slide off, leaving her bare, vulnerable, and yours.

Mina goes still.

Hands spread her cheeks, and finally, you dive in, tongue first. Swipe along the crevice of her ass, taste the sweetness of her from bottom to top, forcing this gasp from her lips. You’re not shy about it—no room for anything close to it when your nose is pressed up against her asshole—and Mina’s thighs are trembling, muscles in her legs tightening like she’s trying to run away from what’s coming next.

But she won’t. You’ve got her pinned. You’ve got her right where she wants to be.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy, lick from cunt to asshole in one, long slow drag, make her sigh your name like it’s a prayer.

“I can’t believe—I never—no one’s ever—” She’s talking, trying to keep it together, trying to rationalise how something so filthy is making her fall apart in a million different, tremendous ways. But the words break off into moans, pure music to your ears.

“Like that?” You murmur against her skin, words disappearing into her.

“Oh my god, yes,” Mina cries out, a benediction. Her grip tightens on her dress, holding it up like a veil. A fucked-up kind of thing, marrying her cunt to your lips; arousal so potent you’re drowning it.

Because she’s a wreck, been a wreck since the moment you laid a hand on her. And now you just have to keep her there.

You let your tongue slide up and down her slit, teasing the folds, going lower, spreading her legs to lap up her clit until she’s begging for it—until she’s begging for you to push inside, to fuck her with it, to make her scream.

"Enjoy it, enjoy being so messy for me.”

"Oh—oh my God!" Mina cries out as you delve into her, and the sound echoes down empty corridors, bouncing off the walls, taking a grand tour of the palace. “I can’t believe—can’t fucking believe—"

You can't believe it either. That no one else has had the pleasure of tasting, of licking, of dining on this slice of Eden laid out before you. It's a crime against nature, really. A sin that you're more than happy to rectify.

"Fuck, you're so good," Mina voice is strained, her legs buckling under the weight of her own desire, she needs to post one hand onto the wall to not completely collapse into your mouth.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Feeling smug and utterly in control. "It's not rocket science, darling. Just a little bit of appreciation goes a long way."

But you're not just tonguing her ass because it’s there, because it’s what you’re into. You’re doing it because it’s driving her wild, because you know it’s a button that’s been left untouched, unexplored. And there’s something about being the first to do it that makes your cock throb, makes you want to worship not just her ass, but all of her.

Every part of her that's been neglected, overlooked, ignored.

"You have no idea," she breathes, her legs trembling harder now, "How good it feels."

You lean back, just a fraction, looking up at her, the tension coiling up her spine. "Oh, darling," you say, "I do. Believe me, I do."

A kiss into the small of her back, and you slide your finger back into her, once at first. So impossibly wet, stretching so easily for you, welcoming you right back in.

It’s all for you.

And you can’t get enough, so you add another, then another, stretching her even more, making her drench you and moan for you louder and louder.

You’ve figured it out. How to fuck her, lick her, press into her cunt just right. Finding the rhythm, that makes her breath skip and her body tense, that makes her pussy clamp down around your digits.

“Oh, God, oh, oh, oh—yes—right there—right there—” She’s panting, her hips jerking back, meeting every thrust of your fingers and your tongue.

You’re so close to making her cum—so close that you can almost taste it on the air—and she’s begging for it, so sweetly, so desperately.

“Please, please, don’t stop, I’m right there—” Mina’s hand reaches back, tangling in your hair, and she’s pulling you closer, grinding herself against your mouth.

Bury your face between her cheeks, fuck her fast with your fingers. It’s heaven down in the depths of hell; her thighs, her cheeks, her cunt, her ass. So soft, so wet, so very yours.

That whimper, that beautiful sigh that escapes Mina’s lips is her final invitation. You push your tongue inside her, opening it up, feeling the tightness, the warmth. The shock coursing through her as she surrenders to the unspeakable filth and bliss of your mouth on her asshole.

So tight, so clean, so delicious.

You lick and suck and kiss, fucking her with your fingers, pressing into her, exploring the depths of that tight little hole.

"This is, this is—” her voice strains, wonder, desperation, downright heat at what you’re doing to her. "No one’s ever done this to me. Keep eating my ass, please."

It’s her words that keeps you going, and it all becomes a blur of moans and shivers, of the way she tastes, smells, feels. But you don’t stop, you can’t, all you want to do is make that tight ring of muscle yours.

“Please let me cum. Now. Please. I need it—I need you—”

She needs you to never stop.

You take her, right there in the moonlit garden, hidden by the shadows and the foliage and the silk of her dress. You can almost feel the vibrations of her voice in your mouth, against your tongue, like it’s a part of her, like she’s speaking straight into your soul with every moan and gasp and plea.

The squelch of your fingers fucking her. Her cunt griping you, being devoured. Your tongue invading her ass. The way you’re ruining her for everyone else. Her cries.

She’s so loud.

It doesn’t matter.

The whispers of the gala seem so far away, so irrelevant. It’s all about Mina and her ass and your three fingers sawing in and out of her and she’s saying—

“God, fuck, how can you do this, how can you make me—fuck—"

The answer to her unfinished question: it’s because she’s worth it. It’s because of her, how she makes you want to prove yourself. Because of her hips and her thighs and her cunt and her ass and all of her, every single part.

And that’s your name on her breath, that’s your name when she’s close, that’s your name when she finally tips over, when her legs give way and she’s gasping it into the night.

“Oh my—”

Mina cums.

You swallow.

Drink your fill from her cunt, fill up your nose with her scent. Burn the memory of what it’s like to have your face buried in her ass and have her leaking down your chin. It’s a full body spasm that wracks through her, setting her soul on fire. She’s a star, a supernova, a fucking explosion on your tongue.

Her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing, clenching, and you give it to her, keep fucking her through it, keep licking, because she’s still there, still hovering.

It overwhelms her—she lets it—you feel her body tighten, quiver, then release like a bowstring snapped.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please—yes, like that—right—right there—yes—yes—yes—”

A chant of yeses right before falling off a cliff and into an oh fuck, I’m cumming.

And you’re right there, knees in the dirt, smiling against her cheeks, holding onto her hips, making sure she doesn’t collapse entirely.

And fuck, she goes, and goes and goes.

Until the ground falls beneath her feet.

You’re there to catch her, to ease her down to the ground with you, hold her in your arms until her world stops spinning.

It takes a moment, two.

And she looks up at you, like she’s unsure of how she got there, in this tangle of sighs and limbs and you. But it doesn’t really matter because she pulls you closer, hand still buried in your hair, needing to kiss you just one more time.

Her taste lingers on your tongue—sweet and salty and so uniquely her. She kisses you again, a little less frantic this time. A little more like she means it.

It’s hard not to feel anything but pride.

Mina’s cheek is pressed to your chest, her eyes barely able to focus, her breaths coming in quiet, contented puffs.

And you’re coming to realise what kind of woman Mina is. Even now, when she should be an unrepairable mess—sprawled out on the cool floor with her dress in a puddle around her, her pussy still pulsing and leaking down her thighs—there’s this poise to her that’s downright intimidating.

She breathes, “You’re just a fantasy, aren’t you?” It feels like a warm hand sliding down your spine.

You lean down, kiss her forehead, tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

And then your emergency line rings.

Mina inclines her head. A spell is broken. “Well, that’s timing for you.”

You instantly regret the next words that come out of your mouth, the rational words that have never sounded more irrational. “I need to go.”

Mina’s far too polite, far too graceful to say what she wants to say, what you’re pleading her in your mind to say. But she knows the game. You both do.

She just nods, rewards herself with a peek at the tent angrily poking underneath your slacks.

“It’s fine,” she says. (It’s not). She reaches up to your lips, running a thumb over the gloss she’s stained you with. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Her other hand slips down to your thigh, gives you a courtesy squeeze as a farewell, and it’s all you can do not to jump. But you can’t, because the phone’s still ringing, because at the end of the day you’re still a billionaire with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold.

She’s kind of enough to give you an out. “You’re supposed to be giving a speech, right?”

Said responsibility and reputation has you answering, “Yeah.”

You’re stupid for it, stupid for even entertaining the idea of letting her go, or leaving her behind. But you’re not completely blameless—it’s near impossible to even think straight when all the blood in your body has gone south for the evening.  

“Are you going to be okay with,” Mina blinks down at you. “Your situation?”

It’s painful to even say it. “I guess I’ll have to be.”

Mina sits up, pulls herself off you, untangling her legs with a grace that seems almost otherworldly.  Pulls her panties back up, tucks them into place with a little shiver. Smooths her dress down, twisting it back in place.

You’re already regretting letting her leave before she’s even gone.

But the messages have piled up on your phone, and Mina can see it all, the endless frantic texts, the missed calls.

You’re late.

You’re needed.

The world’s waiting.

Mina reads your face, and you can’t tell if she’s impressed or disappointed. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You stand up, help her to her feet, because that’s what you do—you take care of your own messes. She’s still smiling at you, and you want to tell her how much you wish you could stay.

“It’s okay,” is all she says, as you tuck your shirt back in and slick your hair down.

She’s redoing her own hair, trying to fix it into something presentable. Something less ‘I’ve been fucked raw against a brick wall’ and more ‘gee, quite a strong wind tonight’.

“I knew from the jump you didn’t have the time.”

You’re blurting out, “I can make more.”

“Not even money can buy that.”

Your phone rings again.

Mina’s eyes follow the screen, the glow lighting up her face. Ethereal. Yeah, that's the word for how she looks. You've never been sure of the definition but you're certain it fits.

And when she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek, to bid you farewell, she holds onto your shoulder long enough to whisper her address in your ear. “I’ll be waiting. If you can get away.”

“Why don’t I just come with you now?”

She laughs—but it’s empty, almost a little sad. “Because, you have a job to do, and I have an appearance to keep up. And unlike you, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to broadcast to the whole world who I’m fucking. Or who I’m going to fuck. If he’s not late, that is.”

And with a quiet breath, she’s gone.

A ghost in the moonlight, slipping away like she’s been painted out of existence, leaving you with the memory of her on your mouth and the ache she’s leaving in your cock.

You turn back to the gala.

The air feels somewhat colder.

—

The rest of the evening goes far, far too slowly for your liking.

While your absence has been noted, the whispers and glances are more curious than concerned. They don't know where you've been, and one of your assistants is kind enough to fetch you a new shirt to replace the one that's smudged with lipstick and makeup and Mina, before any real juicy rumours can start.

You try, and fail, to get things moving as quickly as possible:

(A business rival pulls you aside to congratulate you on the recent product launch—You're just thinking about Mina's ass.

A board member sings your praises about last quarter’s earnings, how you're really sticking it to those idiots that forecasted a downturn—You're only thinking about sticking it between Mina's thighs.

A reporter that sneaked in wants to know if you're planning another acquisition so soon after the last one—Yes, you're going to acquire Mina; find somewhere far away from here with another wall to pin her against and make her scream and ache all over for you.)

Thankfully, your assistant is at the ready before you can really make a scene, dragging you over to the stage and pulling you out of this shit show.

‘Just stepped away for some air’ is what you had assured her when she took the shirt off your hands, but really, there's no point trying to hide it.

She's seen that look before, that glow that you can't quite wipe off.

But she's loyal, she doesn't ask questions. Just tells you that you’re on in five, and that in the meantime, she’ll make sure the driver is ready for a quick exit.

So, you force yourself to smile, address the faces that meld together into a wall of teeth.

Make a speech that’s just a rush of words that you've recited countless times before. Innovation and growth, the future of the company, the same spiel from the annual report wrapped up in a shiny new bow.

But none of it matters. You're not even hearing yourself speak. You're hearing the echoes of Mina's moans, feeling the tremble of her thighs as you devoured her, replaying her orgasm in your mind again and again.

You can't wait to get off this fucking stage.

The second the applause dies down, you're off like a shot. The podium forgotten; the spotlight cold on your back. You grab your phone and slip out of the garden, dodging the eager hands that reach out for just a second of your time.

You find your driver waiting, just as instructed; Mina's address already punched in the navigation.

Just go, drop me off. Don't stick around. I'll call you to pick me up in the morning.

—

“It was cerulean,” is Mina’s amused answer to your admittedly idiotic question.

Not your best moment, to be fair. You raced up to her apartment so quickly that you really didn’t have anything more intelligent to say than ‘what happened to your dress?’ and ‘I wanted to know what colour it was’.

But still, show you the person living or dead that could have said anything coherent when being greeted by Mina, opening the door to her apartment—so unashamedly smug, and so very naked.

So what if you just stood there and stared?

Stared at the curves and dips, the way her hair cascades over her shoulders in inky waves, damp from a shower; making it cling to her skin, drape over her collarbone, her breasts. The nipples peeking straight at you, dusky, pointed, waiting the return of your tongue. Her pussy winking between her thighs, a treasure hidden in a sea of smooth flesh.

You don’t know whether to apologise for your lack of eloquence or thank her for being so incredibly distracting.

You kind of want to request that she turn around.

Mina laughs at what is certainly a stupid expression colouring your face; folds her arms across her chest, crosses one leg over the other. "Waiting for me to offer you a drink?"

You blink. “Thought you already gave me one.”

She scrunches her nose, answers, “I was only being polite.”

“I think we’re well past that.”

There’s that gravity again; shifting around Mina, tilting the world towards her until she’s pulling you into her apartment and you’re kicking the door closed behind you.

“Then hurry up and take me upstairs.”

—

There’s a part of you that feels like you should warn Mina when she tells you:

“Look, you’ve kept me waiting too fucking long. I need your cock, your cum inside of me. Right now. Before it’s too late and I change my mind. So, just please, please, please—”

But those kind of thoughts are lost halfway up the staircase; when you both decide that you just can't wait anymore, and your hands are back on her hips and your tongue is pushing into her throat.

Her fault, really.

Stripping you down the hallway, leaving a trail of your clothes through her kitchen; taking you by the cock. Firm, confident pumps as she leads you through her penthouse, refusing to give you a moment to breathe.

Because she’s obsessed with it. Obsessed with how it fills her hand, how it jumps at her touch, how it throbs when she squeezes it, strokes it.

“So big for me," Mina's says—to you, to herself, to your cock. "So perfectly, impossibly, big for me."

You’re never going to make it to the top.

Pressing her up against the banister, kissing her, hard. Deep, bruising kisses, because now that you’re out of the garden you don’t give a fuck if you’re leaving marks.

You just want her to remember this night, to feel it in every pulse and every breath.

Make her think of you when she’s with him, if she can even go back to him after this. Because you’ll both know that she’s yours even when she’s not.

“You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

You look into Mina’s eyes. You can see it all, how the rest of the night will play out. You and Mina, tangled in her apartment. You and Mina, on top of the kitchen island. You and Mina, against the shower walls, on the living room floor, maybe even on the balcony.

You and Mina, until the sun rises.

You kiss her harder. “Is that a request?”

“Of course it is.”

Because now you actually have the time to appreciate her, to let your hands wander.

They glide over her body, mapping it out again, but slower this time. You've had your fill of the frantic touches, the greedy need. This is something else. This is savouring.

You start with your thumb at her navel, tracing the line down to her hips, then back up against to the base of her ribcage. It’s the feel of the muscles in her stomach tensing and relaxing as you touch her, the inhale and the exhale. How ridiculously tiny her waist feels in your hand, how your palm fits so perfectly into the curve of her side that you swear she’s been tailored for you.

Mina chokes on her breath as she tells you, “You’re going to have to stop, or we’re not going to make it to the bedroom.”

You don’t even slow down. You just don’t care.

Your hand rises, higher, finds her breasts again; cupping it in your palm. A thumb rolls over her nipple.

You pinch. She gasps.

You smile into her neck. “So, so, sensitive.”

Mina’s so willing, so keen to give herself over to you, to your touch. You’ve proven yourself to her already, made her cum with just your fingers and tongue. Now it’s just a matter of doing it all over again—but slower, better, more thorough.

You palm her breasts, rolling and pinching them until they’ve been given the attention they deserve, until she’s panting through your teases and caresses. Kneading the soft flesh beneath your hand and making her arch into your touch.

“You’re really going to take your time, aren’t you?” Mina mewls, half-sigh, half-plead. Grinding herself into you, making a shimmering mess on your waist. “Going to torture me until I can’t breathe.”

“It is your fantasy.”

Pull her closer, take a handful of that perfect ass once again. It hasn’t really been that long since you last had it in your hands but it’s all you’ve had on your mind. What it looks like under proper lighting, what it feels like without the dress in the way. What kind of noises will she make when you grope, and she doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing.

Press and squeeze, dig your fingers into her flesh. Not rough, but firm. Leaving little spots of red that will be gone by the morning.

Slide your finger down, down between her cheeks, and deeper, pressing into the sweet heat of her ass.

And then you feel it.

Her asshole. Wet and slick. Prepared.

A wink. A laugh. "Not my fault you're predictable."

You can’t fucking wait anymore.

She’ll just have to settle for the staircase.

Grab her by the hips—her ass, and pull her down with you onto the steps, her legs straddling you as you sit down.

Take her in—all of her. The curve of her, the line of her spine, the fucking paradise that’s her cheeks. Unbelievable.

You kiss into her back, follow down that trail right to where it swells, feeling the heat of her skin against your lips. You’re going to ruin this ass; permanently plant your flag there, mark it as property of you and your cock until she can’t take a seat without cursing your name.

Mina's shoulders tense when you pause, and she looks back over to you. There's a flash of nerves in her eyes, a gasp of "Here?" that's so faint you almost don't catch it.

Another kiss into her skin, you murmur, “Here’s perfect, Mina,” and she sighs when your finger presses against that puckered ring, cold with lubricant, made as ready as she’s ever going to be.

It’s the preparation that gets you; the idea of her in anticipation for you, for this, making sure she’s nice and primed. Mina at the store, still wearing that dress, fresh from her orgasm, buying lube. Mina in her bathroom, stripping herself bare, toying with her asshole, making it perfect for you.

And Mina, now, eyes clenched shut, breaths heavy as your digit is pushing through, slipping into her, and she’s so fucking tight around it.

“Oh my god,” she hisses through her teeth, a quiver in her legs as you push deeper into her tight channel.

Your hands shoot to her thighs to steady her, a reassuring anchor to keep her from toppling over as your finger fills her completely, twisting and turning, slowly but surely easing her into the idea of being taken.

It’s the moans that get you, the sighs as you intrude inside her. She’s so responsive, her breaths skipping and her pussy already starting to gush, coating your finger, your thighs, the steps below.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah—yes,” Mina stutters, her footing slips just so, but she catches herself on the banister. “It’s—it’s intense. So intense. But don’t stop, I can take it. I want—I want more. I need this. I need this now, before—before I take all of you inside of me."

“You want more?” You repeat her words, before giving her what she needs—adding a second finger, pressing them in deep, making sure she’s good and open. The lube helps, but it’s the eagerness that gets her most of the way there; it’s that trust that she has in you, her willingness to let you take her here, in this way.

“Yes, please,” Mina cries, doing everything she can to not collapse on top of you, to not come completely apart.

You’re merciless, adding a third finger, stretching her until she’s panting, until she’s crying out, making this noise, this hushed whimper that takes the shape of your name.

“Please, please, please,” Mina whispers to herself, pushing back against you, starting to rock back onto your hand, taking your fingers into her ass.

“Not yet, Mina, not yet,” you tell her, because even though she’s close, even though she’s begging, you want her to be absolutely fucking desperate for your cock when the moment comes. 

You reach around her with your other hand, finding that button, already swollen and begging for attention. Playing with it, gently at first, a soft pressure to help her let go, to allow herself to let her voice echo up the staircase and through the penthouse.

God, how is she this sensitive, reactive to every little touch, to every exploration of her cunt, her ass, her body.

It’s the ceremony of it all; this lurid, obscene ritual that you’re walking her through. Making her ass bounce on your hand in this hypnotic movement, making her stretch around your fingers, making her repeat your name over and over until she’s convinced herself that all of her belongs to you.

These perfect, near-silent sighs. This unbelievable tightness. Mina’s body, turning itself into a fucking playground for your touch; to do with it as you will. Even if it means ruining her.

And it’s when you have her creaming all over you; down her thighs, making a mess of herself with these pushes and pulls, these declarations of how ready she is for you, that her body shakes with one last, long shiver.

She cums.

Softly, soundlessly, another cry of your name dying on her lips. A hand to your wrist to stop you abruptly, panting.

Tiny, tiny shivers, twitches in her thighs, around your fingers, leaving her barely there, barely with you. Head hanging low, chest heaving, catching her breath, putting herself back together again.

Time stretches before she's cognisant again, and she turns back, looking over her shoulder and straight at you. Eyes half-lidded, hazy, dripping with lust, anticipation, burning with need.

Deep, heavy breaths. And then Mina says the most devastating thing:

“I’m ready. Fuck my ass. Now. Please.”

A gunshot in the quiet of her home, rumbling through your bones.

Your fingers leave her ass, her cunt with a wet pop, forcing a whine from her throat at the sudden emptiness. A look at her asshole, how it clenches and unclenches, beckoning for you to fill it, to claim it as your own.

“Good girl.”

Holding her by the hips, lining her ass with your cock, nudging her opening with your tip and making her shiver. You don’t go in immediately; you hover, giving her one last out, to really see if she’s absolutely certain.

Mina trembles. Nods. That’s all the invitation you need.

“God, I—”

You push in, slow and steady, eyes on her ass as she takes you. So fucking tight, so intense, you can feel every part of her squeezing, accommodating you, moulding itself around your girth and swallowing you whole.

“Take it slow, darling, take it slow,” you whisper into her skin, guiding her down, telling her how good she’s doing, how good she is for you, how much you love her tightness, her trust.

It seems impossible at first, the grip she has on you, like you’ll never get in. But inch by agonising inch, she takes you, and it’s nothing short of total heaven.

Mina, so fucking beautiful in this moment of raw vulnerability; all sharp inhales and strained quivers wrecking through her, voice shaky as she tells you, “I’ve never felt anything like this, I never thought—fuck—I never thought I could take anything like this.”

“You’re doing so good,” you kiss your words into her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her.

“I can—I can do better,” she gasps, and you believe her.

But you still go slow, so painfully slow, even though every fibre of your being is screaming at you to just dig into her hips and slam into that glorious fucking ass and never look back.

“I can take it,” Mina breathes, “Do it, I can take it. I want all of you. In my ass. I can handle it.”

Mina nods, clenches her ass, her cheeks firming up around your throbbing cock.

“I want it to hurt so good.”

No more convincing required. You push in deeper, make her back stiffen, her muscles contract, making her cry.

It’s a dance, a delicate ballet of bodies, of breath and touch, of your cock inside Mina’s ass. Lost in it, in the feel of skin on skin, the sound of wet, needy noises that she’s making, her shudders in your arms.

Until finally, with a strangled gasp, she’s fully seated. You’re buried in her tight, hot ass, basking in the warmth of her, leaving you both winded and struggling for air.

Stillness overrides the moment, because it’s too perfect, too overwhelming, and the feeling. You need to get used to the feeling.

You break the silence first. “Mina?”

“I know. I know.”

A kiss against her neck, scraping the soft skin there. A whisper in her ear, your breath hot and ragged.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”

You always keep your promises.

Mina answers by leaning back into you, her hand finding yours, her nails running along your fingers as if to say, “Yes, please, now.”

Moving, so slow it’s almost painful. The drag of her ass around your cock like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re sliding through warm, velvet-covered steel.

“Fuck, yes, please,” with every inch you pull out, and “Too much, so good, too fucking much,” when you push back in, deeper and deeper still.

It builds and builds, this sweet agony, each pass in her ass faster, harder, turning Mina’s cries and wails into moans of pure bliss. It takes time and long, hard fucking for her body to relax into this rhythm, letting you take her, own her.

A vision above you, sweat glistening on her back, hair matted and sticking to her shoulders, and Mina’s ass, a snug ring around your cock. You watch as your cock slides out of her, the way her ass clenches around the head, holding on for just a second before pushing all the way back down.

You can’t help but groan, “Christ,” as she moves on top of you like that. So gracefully, so beautifully, so fucking obscenely on your cock.

“Thank you—God—thank you, thank you, thank you.” Mina’s moans are pure music to your ears, she’s babbling, talking through the pain, through the pleasure. “So, so good, filling me like—fuck—never been filled up like this.”

And as you push on, push further and further until your cock is melting inside her, burning her up in every way she's ever dared to dream, you can see the smile curling onto Mina’s face. It’s pride, you’re realising. Proud of herself, proud of how she can take you, how she can handle this kind of depraved ecstasy.

“It feels so deep.”

Tearing her open. Revealing the tender, delicate core beneath the glamour, the lights, the unreal beauty that is Mina. Leaving her sobbing, pleading, whining for more, more, more.

Bouncing on you now, each more assured than the last, cries of nothing but need. Opening up to accept you fully, completely, her ass a tight fucking sleeve for you, coming down and wrapping itself around you like a searing hot second skin.

You know the truth, but you still want to hear it.

“How many?”

Mina has her answer ready: “You’re the—you’re the first.”

You grin. A smug, triumphant baring of teeth that spreads from ear to ear. “I have no fucking idea how that’s possible. How nothing has ever been up this tight, perfect little asshole.”

“Oh, there's been toys,” Mina moans, strained and shaky as you pump into her, “But you’re just the first that's real.”

“Then your boyfriend is a fucking idiot,” you growl into her ear, your hand moving to her throat, gently clasping, making her gasp, making her eyes go wide with shock, with excitement. “He doesn’t know what he has.”

“Enough about my boyfriend,” Mina's quick to answer, snapping, her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. “Even though—even if—he wouldn’t, couldn’t dream of filling me like this. Filling me up so much that it hurts, so much that—fuck, it feels so right, so fucking right—”

“You love this, don’t you, Mina?” You ask, but all Mina can do is nod vigorously, too overrun by the fucking to form words. “Underneath it all, you’re just a dirty slut for it, aren’t you? Letting me use this pretty, tight ass like this.”

“I—” she stutters, right before confessing, “I love it.”

She slams her hips down on you, the stairs groaning with each thrust, not built to withstand this kind of punishment.

“I love that it’s you, love that you’re the first. I can’t believe it—just—I need it. I need your cock in me, so deep—I need you, I need you, I need you—so please don't stop.”

“I would never dream of stopping.”

Never.

Not when she’s begging like this, her voice hoarse and her body quaking. When she sighs and shivers every time you fuck a little faster, push a little harder, testing just how much she can take.

Tits jiggling with every thrust, cunt leaking all the way down your thighs, ass puckering and loosening.

Her whole body, yours.

Yours for the taking. Mina’s divine body, in all its sharp planes and ridged muscles, squeezing and coiling at every juncture, every penetration setting her alight.

You declare it, even though it doesn't need to be said. “Made for me.”

“Yes,” she’s nodding. Or rather, letting her head fall into one. “God yes.”

“Just been waiting for me for so long, haven’t you? Been waiting for the right cock to come along and split you in half.” You’re saying these things, these stinging words that you fuck into Mina, send shooting through her like sparks. She’s a live-wire, a fucking blackout waiting to happen.

Weeping down her thighs, choking out every whine, “Yes,” she whispers, “yes, yes, yes, been needing to be ruined. Needing it, needing you. So much, so much, so—fucking—right—”

“Fucking criminal that you had to wait,” you’re saying, loving this, so enraptured by all of it. “But I’m here now.”

Mina shivers, pussy clenches, and she just can’t stop saying, “Yours, yours, yours—”

Completely, totally yours, now.

You know it. She knows it.

It’s written in the way she takes your cock, in the way she loses herself to you, loses all semblance of composure and decorum, peels back all the carefully curated layers that make her Mina, until all there is to see and touch is the raw, unfiltered need that you’ve unleashed from underneath.

"Touch me, fuck me, take me, take my ass, I need more—"

Again, your fingers find her folds, sticky and swollen and waiting.

You touch her, press down on her clit. Circling it with the same rhythm as your hips. Striking a match in a dark room, lighting up her body in this blaze.

The noises that it all makes; the slosh of your fingers at her cunt, the squelch of your cock invading her ass, so fucking explicit, so fucking filthy. 

She’s erratic, breath catching, throat pulsing against your fingers, and she somehow, impossibly, clenches even more around you, suffocating your cock with just her tight, tight ass.

You keep that same tempo. That desperate, fucking unyielding beat that’s going to make her come, going to turn this idol, this mystery, this drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman who should belong to someone else but is now screaming proudly just how much she’s yours, into nothing but a trembling mess of whimpers and whines.

“More, fuck—oh my god, oh my fucking god—it’s so fucking good—so good—so fucking good—”

She’s reaching her peak—her voice, her body, her cunt, her ass—all of her reaching that perfect crescendo of pleasure that you’ve been orchestrating, that you’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Sinking into her, making her feel like she’s being torn apart and remade with every stroke, making her feel nothing like she’s ever felt before, making her feel like nothing but your fucking whore.

So, so close, barrelling towards it now, all these tears running down her cheeks, these filthy words slipping from her lips. Coming apart in your arms, because she’s never been this filled, this complete.

“Going to—going to cum—fuck me, harder, harder—going to cum all over your cock—” Mina tells you, a warning, the last one you get before she screams, “Too good—filling me—so good—give it to me—God—I can never go back—”

She shatters. Monumentally.

Into a million tiny pieces of pleasure, each one more brilliant than the last.

Her body spasms, her ass squeezes so fucking tight around your cock that you can feel the orgasm ripping through her, up her spine, through her throat, until she’s crying out and it’s hitting your ears—

“Oh my God, I'm going to—just, say my name—please, say my name when I—”

“Mina,” you say, and she cums.

“Mina,” you repeat when her pussy floods over your hand, ass smothers your cock.

“Mina,” again when it ripples across her skin, leaves her in fits, uncontrollable quakes, consumed by pure, unfiltered joy.

You watch the whole thing—watch her scream your name, watch her shake and quiver and fall apart, right there on your cock; and you're fucking her through it all, fucking her well past it, chanting “Mina” over and over again.

You'll never forget this, never forget this sight—this woman, this star, built up and broken down just for you.

“Mine,” you bite into her ear, because now, it’s true.

Mina’s barely there, eyes glassy, hand cradling your face. But she’s able to say it, because it’s branded into every bone of her body: “Yours.”

It’s a complete disaster.

And now you're cumming.

Brand new sensations, devastation in full measure—your soul ripped from your chest, until all that’s left is this impulsive, overwhelming need to give her your all, your everything—to fill her entire existence with just you.

You drive your cock into her once more, impaling her deep, and let go.

It floods her, rushes inside her, spills and spills.

Mina can't do anything but feel it—every pulse, every spurt. She throws her head back, her mouth open in this silent plea, satisfaction painted across her face as your heat surges inside her. Her ass milks you, needy for every drop, so, so thirsty for it.

“It's—cumming inside my ass—so, so nice, keep cumming for me.”

You hold onto her, throb inside her, pump ropes into her, and there's a kiss—hot and clumsy—somewhere in the midst of it all, your mouths colliding and tongues wrapping around each other in a futile attempt to last just that little bit longer.

Getting all dizzy and spellbound, floating back down to the ground as the last waves of your climaxes start to subside, until one of you says, “Thank you,” and the other echoes it back.

You stay like that, swallowed up inside her, dripping out of her ass. Lowering one hand from her throat, rising the other from her pussy, pulling her into an embrace, keeping her as close as you can while you both try to put yourselves back together.

It’s sex that soaks the air, fills the penthouse—sweat, lube, the musk of all the evidence you're leaving behind. Intoxicating, breathing it in, setting your nerves alight, rousing your cock inside her all over again.

But Mina, she’s a stunning catastrophe, torn asunder in all the best ways. Perfection not marred, but made better. Completed. Looking up at you with wonder, with gratitude, with a smile.

You look down at her and admit it, “Perfect.”

Mina laughs out loud, “Disastrously perfect.”

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

You kiss her once more.

Mina kisses you back.

“Only if we make it one.” 

—

You think you can read her mind.

And she, yours.

It’s the only way any of this makes sense—how perfect you fit together, how well you read each other; fill each other’s needs without use of any words outside of curses and names and strangled pleas.

Printed onto your DNA, carved into your bones, these exact pathways you shape through her home and into her skin.

You do make it to the bedroom, somehow.

And then, exactly as predicted:

The shower, where Mina takes you into her mouth, gags herself around you, covers herself in your cum before letting the water wash it all away.

Then the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of wine, slurring promises into Mina’s cunt, having her rake the back of your scalp and scream the same promises back into your ears.

And finally, the living room, folding her over the couch, tumbling onto the floor with Mina, riding you so hard the neighbours below start banging on their ceiling in protest. 

It's only the balcony that goes untouched.

Maybe another time.

But that’s where it ends: sprawled across a lush rug, sticky with sweat and cum and wine, naked and bare. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the photos that line the walls and shelves—family, friends, her boyfriend. Just living in this bubble where the sun will never rise and the world outside ceases to exist.

Getting to know each other in ways few people ever do.

Tracing patterns into the small of her back, asking these questions. Is this what you always imagined you would be doing? How you thought your life would be? Does it ever actually feel enough?

Mina pokes and prods back, her nails lightly scraping against your chest, leaving half-moons in her wake. Do you think you could ever be happy? Do you ever wonder why it’s so hard for other people to keep up? Are you fucked up in all the same ways as me?

And it’s so easy to answer truthfully, to be honest, because you’re both still maintaining the façade of this just being a simple fling; a blip along the timeline of your lives.

The yours and mine of it all, all those promises you were spilling. Just callous words tossed in the throes of passion.

They didn’t mean anything real.

Because it’s not like you’re going to see each other again, not like there’s going to be a mess of emotions and consequences that will have to be dealt with in the morning after.

Eventually though, the light does slip through the curtains, the clothes come back on, and you’re kissing Mina against the doorway and thinking of a million reasons why you should stay.

"So, how long are we going to pretend that this is normal?" You broach, and it immediately feels like you’re breaking some unspoken rule. 

Mina’s keeping herself busy, hands at your shirt, buttoning it back into place, one by one. Hiding away evidence that her mouth, her lips, her teeth were ever on you.

She looks up at you. Smirks. “Fucking ‘til the break of dawn, giving each other orgasms that never quite end? Flooding each one of my holes with your cum?” 

You tilt your head. 

“I don’t know. This whole thing is… unique. Uncharted territory and all.”

“It goes without saying, but, yeah. Same for me.” You echo, “Unique.”

You reach for her, smoothing her hair back. The early morning light makes it shine like a crown of jewels. 

“Do you want it to stay that way?”

Mina considers. Leans into your hand. “You think we should make a habit out of this? I didn’t pin you for the type.”

“Neither did I, but it didn’t seem so bad when you were riding me on that couch,” you tease. “And in the shower, and on the staircase, and in the kitchen…”

She blushes, lips caught between her teeth, looking like she’s struggling to hold in a laugh. There’s this glint in her eye as her hand wanders up to your cheek, thumb hovering just shy of your mouth. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you again.

But instead, she just looks at you.

Eyes you with something close to fascination, something that makes your heart stop. And you're reading each other’s minds again, knowing you're both going to lie, going to pretend like this was just a one-night thing. Something the two of you can easily wipe your hands with and walk away from like it never even happened.

Because this really is the first time—you’ve never done anything like this before. Sure you’ve dipped your toe in the pool of commitment, paddled around in the shallow end, but you’ve never fallen for someone proper.

Never worried about what someone's going to be doing when you’re not there, never thought about whether you’d be better off sticking around to find out. 

But you have a job. A company to run.

And Mina, a career. A boyfriend. A life.

So, you don’t make plans.

You don’t even ask for her number.

You don't need to.

Deep down inside you know you’ll find her again.

For now though, you spin your bullshit: “It’s probably for the best if we don’t, though.”

“Probably.” Mina agrees, but she can hear the same ticking clock as you.

The timer that’s already started, counting down to when she’ll inevitably be undoing the same buttons, redrawing the same patchwork of red and pink across your chest, and pulling you into her home and into her; fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, in all the ways she needs, until you’re spilling out of her all over again.

 “Definitely.” Mina unlocks the front door. “For the best.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

How do you think the penacony guys + argenti would react to a reader who gets flustered super easily?

Aventurine loved the fact the he didn’t have to do much in order to make you flustered.

He could caress your cheek or kiss the back of your hand and wait for the precise moment where your eyes grew wide, breath hitched in your throat as your body went rigid.

‘Oh? Is someone perhaps a little flustered from such a simple gesture as me kissing the back of your hand?’ He’d ask teasingly as an amused smile grew across his face as his eyes memorised your every micro expression. When you didn’t respond but instead avert your eyes to try and avoid his gaze, aventurine got the response that he wanted.

‘You do don’t you!’ He cried as he got closer to you, putting a hand under your chin and moving pushing it upwards so that you were forced to look into his eyes. ‘Oh isn’t that precious,’ Aventurine coos as he somehow leant in even closer to you and whispered, ‘I’m sure with enough exposure we’ll be able to build up that endurance of yours. Okay sweetheart?’ He adds with mischief clear within his beautiful eyes.

He would make a game out of how many times he could get you flustered in under a single day.

Spoiler: He managed to make you flustered roughly 10-15 times and that was only during the day!

Aventurine has a way with words with his silver tongue and he would use it on you without a second thought until you were trying to hide yourself away in his side, clinging onto him for dear life as he only laughs and kisses the top of your head.

He’s never felt this deeply about someone before and your reactions to whenever he does express his affections only told him that you felt just as strongly towards him, and that was all he could ever need to reassure himself that his feelings towards you weren’t one sided and would treat you to whatever your heart desires.

Maybe even something that made you not so secretly match with him that he knows you won’t notice until later on?

Aventurine loves your easily flustered nature but he loved you even more. You getting flustered was merely a bonus for him that he’d take advantage of as long as you were okay with it.

Sunday grows somewhat addicted to the idea that it was his touch and his alone that had seemingly had you unraveling at the seems.

He could be grabbing a cup from the shelves to make himself a drink and places his hand on your hip as to keep you from moving as he reaches over you, smiling to himself as he heard you let out a small ‘eep’ and go rigid upon contact.

‘Are you alright my dear? You’re seemingly a little tense.’ Sunday asks as he moved his head so that his mouth was level with your earn, his observant eyes watching as the goosebumps arose and how your posture straightened almost immediately.

‘Yes! I’m fine!’ You’d exclaim and Sunday moved his hand away from your hip to your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly as if he wasn’t the sole reason you were so skittish and unable to maintain eye contact.

‘No need to shout my dear, I’m right here.’ He’d say softly as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before going about the rest of his day with the image of a flustered you to keep him in a relativity good mood.

Sunday adored your reactions to anything he did, whether big or small because it made him special, unique in your eyes that it feed into his delusion thst you were fated somewhere down the line and now you were together as promised by a higher power.

He’d start putting on your shoes for you and letting his hands linger on your legs and thighs for far longer then he should, or only let you tie his tie and revel in how flustered you get just from being in close proximity to him and silently watching on as you struggled to keep your hands steady as his musky scent invaded your senses.

Boothill adored seeing your face grow flustered and his cuteness aggression towards you would go through the roof.

He’d pinch your cheeks, you’d get flustered and try to push his hands away from your face.

He’d hug you from behind and laugh as you hurried your face into your hands to hide away how easily affected you were, but from feeling just how warm the tips of your ears were, Boothill had a vivid picture within his head about how the rest of your face looked behind your hands.

Back when you weren’t officially together Boothill even went as far as to puts his hat atop of your head, an act you weren’t all that familiar of the meaning behind, until someone brought up the fact that it meant he wanted to see more of you. Needless to say you used his hat to cover your face upon realising that the handsome cowboy you fancied was interested in you.

Even now Boothill would still puts his hat on your head and smile at how quickly it took for you to use it as a way to hide away your flustered face.

Would he playfully bite you just to what you squeak in shock and surprise? Yes, yes he would because you being flustered at anything and everything he threw at you only made Boothill’s cuteness aggression towards you worsen as you were just too darn cute for him to deny!

You were practically trapped within his arms from first thing in the morning until nightfall.

Argenti

‘Are you alright my beloved? You’re looking quite flustered, should we sit down?’

Sweet, sweet Argenti would grow excessively worried upon seeing you get worked up so easily over a small act of affection, thinking that me might’ve done something wrong and if you weren’t currently at a loss for words, you would’ve been able to calm him down and bring reason as to why that was.

All he wanted was to sing your praises and show just how amazing of a person you were to anyone who’d stop and listen, so much so that he forgot that his words held a lot more power than he thinks, seeing as how his affinity to effortlessly waxing poetry on the spot about you and your beauty had left you flustered to the high heaves and too meek to speak up on your own behalf.

‘Why do you hide away your beautiful face?’ Argenti wonders aloud as he watched you intently with kind, sweet eyes that drank you in your entirety. ‘Do you not think yourself the way that I do?’ He adds and once again you were left with a sudden inability to speak and a parched throat.

Argenti doesn’t mind you being flustered, he finds that it makes you even more beautiful in his eyes and would even praise you about your easily flustered nature, much to your dismay as this would only further send you over the edge.

He can’t help it! Everything you did was beautiful and unique to your character that he whenever he sees someone else do anything similar, his mind brings him back to you, his beloved because no one else can compare to you and you’re unique reactions towards certain aspects of life.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Could we get a follow up to Dealer!Remus and Shy!reader where we get a glimps into their book date? Absolutely loved what you did with their first interaction ✨

Part one wc: 792

You’ve changed outfits at least three times already and you’re not sure if what you’ve got on now will be your last outfit.

Remus texted you half an hour ago to let you know he was on his way for you with a well worn copy of ‘You’ve Reached Sam’ and directions to a cafe that served the best hot chocolate and sticky buns.

You’re pinning your hair down when there’s a rap at your door. “Fuck,” you mutter as you shove your socked feet into your shoes and grab your book off your vanity before rushing down the stairs.

You take a couple seconds to catch your breath before opening the door.

Remus stands before you in a burnt orange sweater that features a black cat on its back kicking up a purple ball of yarn, and dark brown corduroys.

He’s also got a small bouquet of flowers in his hands- baby breaths, pink roses and a couple peonies.

“Hi,” you hope you don’t sound as awkward as you feel. Sure Remus is nice and he’s possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes upon, but it makes him a little more intimidating.

“Hi,” his smile is slow and easily given. “You look lovely.”

He means it too. You’re wearing a red Christmas sweater over a white collared shirt that's got little pink stars on it, a black skirt and ruby red Mary Jane’s with hot pink socks with a star rainbow on the ankle.

In your hands is your prized possession; the last book you’d read that you’d gone home and annotated after you left Remus’ dispensary.

“Thank you,” you motion him inside. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.” You manage the words without tripping over them and for that you’re grateful.

Remus hands them over as you fill a vase, watch as you carefully take them out of the cellophane and snip the ends.

“Ready?” You ask as you look up, finding Remus’ gaze laser focused on you. Dear god, you hope your nose isn’t sweating.

“Yeah,” Remus smiles when you pull the door shut behind you, your perfume floats behind you and he gets a good bit of the cappuccino, whipped cream and caramel scent and decides it’s the only thing he wishes to smell for the rest of his life.

“Do you know which hot chocolate you’re getting?”

You bite your lips as Remus opens the passenger side door for you and shake your head.

You deliberate your words carefully, you fight the urge to nibble on the side of your nails- Mary had just painted them a pretty red for the season.

Your voice is soft and a little quiet, but Remus hears you just fine as he buckles himself into the car.

“I usually get a peppermint one, but I like the classic one to form an opinion.”

Remus nods, a smile on his face as he starts the car.

“That’s a good plan, dove.” The pet name slips out like it’s the most normal thing, and Remus doesn’t miss the way you flip the book over in your lap nervously.

“Did you know there was controversy about the story?” You ask quickly, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear as you hazard a glance at Remus.

“I did not. Can you tell me or will it cloud my judgement?” He catches the barest of smiles on your face and wants to keep it there.

“It might, maybe when you’re finished I’ll tell you and you can let me know if you agree with it or not?”

It comes across flirty and it wasn’t your intention but Remus chuckles softly and nods so you don’t rush to take it back.

“I would love that,” he parks and turns to you as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I have to forewarn you,”

Your breath hitches, your hands gripping the book in your lap as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“The book does make you cry.”

You breathe out harshly, your eyebrows smoothing out as he smiles at you- all mischief and a little bit of teasing.

“You’re mean, Remus.” He chuckles with a tiny shrug.

“C’mon, let’s go get our treats.”

You spend nearly two hours in the cafe, talking with Remus over a sticky bun and a hot chai instead of chocolate because it went better- per Remus’ suggestion.

In turn he’d taken your suggestion of a hot chocolate and a slice of orange cinnamon coffee cake which he loved.

The date was wonderful, Remus got you an extra sticky bun to go and you’d smiled when he kissed your cheek at your doorstep.

You smiled even more when he didn’t drive off till you shut your front door behind you.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One thing I’ve inherited from my mother is my feet. Not only are they the same size but we get the same utility out of them, which is to say both of our big toes are unusually long and flexible.

When she was pregnant my mom used this fact to just pick up things with her feet instead of bending down. She never lost the habit, so when I was young I hopped immediately on board the fun game of picking up stuff with my toes.

Laundry, pencils, I’ll casually grab stuff laying on the floor with my toes without bending down. It’s proven itself as a useful skill with my chronic illness or when my back is thrown out.

But there is a dark side to these toe powers. My mom uses her toes for evil more often than not. Because they’re ideal for pinching. A common cry in the house was my dad from their bedroom going, “Ah! Don’t pinch me!” Followed by my moms evil giggle.

Tragically it is so fun to use pinchy toes for evil. The most fun thing to grab is someone’s Achilles tendon or calves but y’know. They tend not to like it. Cause it pinches.

I’ve never done more than gently grip my betrothed with my pinchy toes, an act of love and a testament to my iron willpower because again, it’s so goddamn fun. But one night after they told me to knock it off I started telling them that my mom is always pinching my dad when they cuddle.

“It hurts?” they asked me in perplexity.

“Well yeah, like, I could be hurting you, but I’m not, because I love you. It so easy to pinch hard.”

They radiated disbelief at me.

“Do you need me to show you I can pinch hard enough to hurt?” I asked.

“Sure, show me.”

I greedily reached for their legs with my evil toes unleashed and in seconds they exclaimed, “Ow! How are you doing that!”

I snickered and subsided. They processed the breadth of my toe skills while I savored the tiny mischief I had indulged.

Finally they said, “I want to try.”

“Sure.” I laid passively while they clumsily attempted to grip any part of my leg between their toes. They grew increasingly frustrated while I stifled giggles. Their toes gripped helplessly at me like toothless gums, failing to gain purchase.

Finally they managed to grip my Achilles tendon and gave a triumphant laugh. By no definition was it remotely uncomfortable, let alone painful but I indulgently said, “Ow,” for them.

“Don’t patronize me,” they whispered venomously. Then they snuggled close and my toes returned to their humble life picking up socks that have fallen from the laundry basket.

[cutieeva]

The Beautiful Lie

Female reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Love bombing. Self harm. Sexual Assault.

⌜ The art and the love interest (male character) belongs to the talented artist @meo-eiru and the story is inspiringly written and dedicated to @meo-eiru and the readers ! Hope you enjoy the plot that belongs to me but also helped by @meo-eiru a lot ⌟

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

(Y/N) rarely has time to offer to love, dating and such things because first : her taste in men are bad and second: she is a extremely busy person to balance her work life and personal life seperated until the most beautiful man she ever saw came surprising her with love. Or is it ?

"(Y/N), could you go to the Cutieeva mall to check out the new product's sales ?" Her female senior asked sitting from her desk.

"Of course, mam. I will be in a minute". (Y/N) agreed, saving all of her working documents before taking her handbag and left with car keys. Aurora Bloom, the brand of the cosmetic company she works, it is for now one of the top three companies to be trending in global and the best in Europe. While She works in HQ department of the company at a young age she didn't expect and living her life at ease at the rented apartment she lives quite close both to the company and her parents house who always here and there tell her to come home and when she does, it's a feast to eat of her home's comfy food and hearing thousand fictional stories from her writer father, well he wasn't a writer at first before he was a regular working manager at a company but he quit after (Y/N) outdone herself to such pristine department letting him decide to do what he likes until his last breath could be taken applying he wants no regrets to bear.

And he surprised the family by being quite a good writer himself, finding his own group of fandom invested in his writing and always support him while her mother is happy as she was being a housewife like always along being madly in love with her father who reciprocate the feelings to this day which (Y/N) finds utterly endearing yet she has no time to dwell about her love life when she has too much on her plate with her newfound career she wants to grow, as a independent woman and a person who lives her life to the fullest if overlook her empty love life.

"Yes mam, indeed people are enjoying the new shade of lipstick saying it's not only non-sticky but also long lasting highlighting their skin tones". The department store female manger explained pointing to the several women trying their new product 'the cherry blossom lipstick' either on their lips or on their palm.

(Y/N) nod, curling into a pleasant smile when her eyes caught a beautiful woman's back, wore pink shirt and tight skinny black pants with her musing long hair flowing with the breeze. "Must be pretty". She thought when she witness from her pocket a small object— foundation she recognized fell on the ground yet the woman walked away.

"She didn't noticed". On instinct almost she walked to the floor picking up the tiny box and call out. "Miss, your foundation..." She tailed off as she turn into the light, and captivated (Y/N) by the vision before her. His hair was a mesmerizing pink musing hue, with subtle waves that cascaded down his back like a rosy waterfall. The straight strands framed his face, accentuating his chiseled features, while his bangs fell effortlessly across his forehead, adding a touch of whimsical charm.

His eyes, a deep, burnished logoon color, like the warmth of a sunset on a tropical isle, sparkled with amusement as he caught her gaze. They seemed to dance with an inner light, drawing her in with an irresistible pull.

His lips, a vibrant red, curled into a gentle smile, revealing a hint of mischief, and (Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. But it was the glint of gold at his ears that added the final touch to his captivating appearance - delicate, filigree earrings that seemed to shimmer in harmony with his eyes.

(Y/N) felt like she was drowning in the depths of his gaze, and before she knew it, the words tumbled out of her mouth in a whispered gasp "You're beautiful."

The man's smile widened, and a low, husky laugh rumbled from his throat, sending shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. "Thank you," he said, his voice dripping with warmth, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You are a funny one complimenting me beautiful after calling me a lady".

As he laughed, the golden earrings caught the light, adding a touch of whimsy to his already captivating presence. (Y/N) felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his face, her heart still racing from the impact of his beauty also sinking the fact she mistaken a man being a woman.

"I am sorry. It wasn't my intention". Honestly said, she look down, dare peeking though her lashes to flinch finding him staring at her the entire time.

"I can see that, the way it's written over your face". He chuckle moving his finger in air to the circle to her face making her palm touch her own heated cherry face.

"Ah !" She laughed nervously, unconsciously fisting on the foundation box.

"So, can I have it back ?" His hand reached out, palm up, with shiny white nails gleaming in the light, as if beckoning the object back from (Y/N)'s grasp. His fingers, slender and elegant, curled slightly, inviting her to return the coveted item. The nails, smooth and rounded, seemed to shine like tiny beacons, drawing (Y/N)'s gaze to his outstretched hand. With a gentle, yet persuasive gesture, he coaxed the foundation back into his possession, his shiny white nails glinting with quiet confidence.

"Huh ?" (Y/N)'s eyes widened, then blinked slowly, as if awakening from a spell, realizing the man had taken the foundation with effortless ease, leaving her feeling bewitched while his eyes crinkled, lips curling into a warm smile as he chuckled, clearly delighted by the woman's adorable, bewildered expression. His low, husky laugh filled the air, his gaze sparkling with amusement.

"What a adorable lady she is". His eyes roamed her body, lingering on every curve, exploring each detail, as if discovering hidden treasures. "You aren't from the department store right ?" (Y/N) blink twice.

"No".

"Oh, then you came to shop ?" He narrowed his eyes noticing her carrying a huge white handbag.

"No". She answered in short.

"Then why ?" He asked tilted his head with the notion his golden earrings swing gently.

"I am from the HQ department of the brand you are holding". Finally she smiled confidently pointing at the foundation's box printed Aurora Bloom.

"Oh !" He delightfully smile, toying with the object. "Pleasant to meet you then. He added.

"Pleasant to you t—" a melody emitted from her wrist watch widening her (E/C) eyes. "Oh god ! I need to hurry ! I am sorry but I need to go". She apologized having fun to converse with the stranger.

"No worries—" His eyes spot the missing ring finger. "—Miss ?" He tailed off insinuating her unknown name.

"(L/N) (Y/N), sir". She replied.

"Mine is Elias". (Y/N) choose not to comment at his lack of surname and nod before walking hastily. How could she forget this time's event manager is herself hosted on Tuesday, the very next day. Cursing her fate she ran.

Perfect. (Y/N) release a sigh overwhelmed by the fast yet perfect preparations she had to done within such short amount of time thankfully today would be the flawless day to showcase their skin products to their VIP guests who might be arriving any minute. The models have already came but "Has the makeup artist come yet ?" She questioned worried for the delayed time of the famous make up artist they somehow succeed in booking his seat as social media following was staggering, with millions hanging on his every post and tutorial. Celebrities clamored for his attention, and fashion icons praised his work. Sold-out masterclasses and coveted collaborations solidified his status as the most sought-after makeup artist in the industry. His name was synonymous with glamour and expertise, and his influence was simply unparalleled.

"It's alright ! The artist must be running late right ?" Soon her worries were proven right because soon after their automatic glass door opened revealing a man wore sleek black glasses, adding a touch of sophistication to his chiseled features. His French brown coat, crafted from seemly fine leather, draped elegantly across his broad shoulders, exuding luxury.

"The artist came, mam !" Her female junior announced however (Y/N) knitted her brows finding the man somehow familiar, from his blush long hair, tall statue only be still surprised finding the man remove his glasses to indeed be that beautiful man from yesterday who smile at her noting he remembered her.

"Wow ! The world indeed works in a mysterious ways". She grin shaking her head. "Welcome to the our event sir, please hurry the show begins within minutes". Adapting her professional mannerism she shaked his hand, guiding him to their backstage to appear on the front stage.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)" His lagoon eyes on her, standing behind the dark curtain to go.

"Of course, Sir Elias". She professionally smiled intriguing the man a little. "Oh ! Your turn". She stretch out her hand to the stage guide him who nod.

Wonderfully the event unfolded with seamless precision, a testament to the makeup artist's mastery. With each stroke of his brush, he transformed the models into living canvases, showcasing their company's product unparalleled quality. The VIP guests watched in awe, their faces aglow with delight, as the artist's vision came to life. As the final model face the guest revamped into a living goddess, the room erupted into applause, a joyful crescendo that wrapped the evening in a warm, golden glow. The event concluded with effortless elegance, leaving a lasting impression on all who attended including the staff and (Y/N) herself.

"He was the right choice". She giggle as her co-workers swarmed around her, beaming with pride and admiration. "Congratulations, you absolutely crushed it!" they exclaimed, patting her on the back and shaking her hand. "Your attention to detail and tireless efforts made this event truly unforgettable!"

Meanwhile, the VIP guests approached her, their faces still aglow with delight. "Thank you for an incredible experience," they said, their voices filled with genuine gratitude. "Your preparation was seamless, and every aspect of the event was meticulously executed. You truly are a master of your craft!" As the guests departed, (Y/N) waved goodbye, basking in the warmth of their praises. Her colleagues continued to congratulate her, their kind words and smiles a testament to her hard work and dedication. With a sense of pride and accomplishment, (Y/N) smiled, knowing she had truly outdone herself once again.

"You know your craft". She flinch almost screaming meeting his eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Elias. Partially it is your skills too that the reason why it was such a successful event". He smiled shrugging his shoulder.

"Okay, please have a safe drive and reach home". She wave her hand and farewell him before he parted his lips to say, remained rooted at his place, watching her figure disappearing.

"She is always hurry to leave". He mutter walking to his car.

"Hmm...this time their new lipstick looks better". (Y/N) discreetly stare at the neighboring make up store despite having much customers on her stores, she still find the new appeal of their products threatening to her company so she walked inside nodding to the welcoming female clerks.

Picking out the a box, she about to apply on her palm when a voice intrupted.

"Don't do it that way". Her eyes wide meeting his lagoon ones, smiling alike to crescent moons she compare. "Apply it in your lips directly and it will definitely have a different impact". He encouraged the doubtful woman who glided the crimson bullet across her lips, leaving a bold, velvety trail in its wake.

"Hmmm not suiting your face. Lighter". He picked out a peach shade handing her who again gliding the peach lipstick across her lips in soft, smooth strokes, as he whispered, "Let it caress your skin, like a summer breeze." As his warm breath danced across her ear, she flinched, her hand trembling with the lipstick. She turned, her gaze darting to his, their faces too close, the air thick with tension. Her eyes widened, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face, as she leaned back, her shoulders tensing. The lipstick hovered, forgotten, as she struggled to create space between them, her breath catching in her throat. His gaze held hers, intense, unyielding, making her skin prickle with unease and heart racing.

"This suits you. I will take one". Hearing his comment she cleared her throat, slowly keeping the lipstick to where it was when from the tail of her eyes she saw him choose an uneven box of peach shade. Quickly she picked the perfect box stretching to him who raised his eyebrows in question.

"I already have one". He jiggle the box but frown staring at her shaking head.

"Take this, it has perfect box unlike the uneven one". She pointed out to his surprise as a thrilled chuckle left his lips.

"Thank you". Replacing the case.

"No problem". She wave her hand as if physically waving his gratitude.

"Wanna grab drinks ?" Elias suggested out of nowhere tilting his head.

"Okay". Checking her wrist watch she still has few minutes to spare. Also she did wanted a drink and they together went to the drink store nearby ordering one white chocolate matcha for her and one caramel frappuccino for him.

Waiting for the drink they sat near a white seat opposite of each other, talking about trivial things about one another where she learnt he is a regular customer of her brand along their frequent makeup artist that's why she was able to book him easily. Soon the waitress called for their drinks and they talked, sipping their drinks and walking.

"Okay I need to leave". She decided glancing at her wrist watch missing his disappointed gaze.

"Okay. It was nice talking to you". He told.

"Me too". Happily she answered, finding herself enjoying their conversation. "I will take my leave". With a wave she left once again.

However what she didn't expected was their daily meeting at the mall department store as she stepped into the store, clipboard in hand, she was focused on her task: ensuring the department was running smoothly. But then, she saw him—a familiar face among the shelves. Their daily meetings had become a pleasant ritual, a brief respite from her HQ duties. He'd ask about her day, and she'd share stories about the office, or he'd gossip about his latest makeup news. She found herself looking forward to these encounters, feeling a sense of comfort and camaraderie with this customer. He was easy to talk to, and their conversations flowed effortlessly. As she checked the inventory, he'd chat with her, making the task more enjoyable. Their bond grew with each passing day, an unexpected connection between them she wasn't anticipating because once a mundane checking became the hightlight of her day with that weeks pass in blink of an eye. Until one day they sat in their usual white table in front of the drink shop inside the mall.

As he asked the question "Do you like me?" she felt a sudden jolt of surprise, her mind racing with a mix of emotions. Her eyes widened, and actions paused before laughter awkwardly bursting back and forth like a defensive shield.

"Yes, as a good friend!" she exclaimed, trying to brush off the tension, her tone light and playful. But in her haste to respond, she missed the subtle strain in his smile, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes but a doubt linger on her mind for him to ask such a question. Why ? Never in her mind did she view the man romantic, beautiful yes but that's a admiration unlike love, she is certain of her feelings are not alike to love.

"I like you too." His voice was calm, sincere, To her, his words were a friendly echo, a mirrored response, a confirmation of their camaraderie. She nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her, thinking the tension had dissipated, that they were back on familiar ground. (Y/N) simply smiled back, comfortable in her assumption, oblivious to the moment hung, suspended, a delicate balance of feelings, but she didn't notice, already moving on, the exchange filed away as a pleasant, friendly conversation and took her drinks however she soon has to depart this time with a hint of awkwardness.

"It's alright. Nothing is wrong". And correct to her thought the next day was normal as their conversation flowed easily, like a gentle stream. (Y/N) chatted with him, laughing and joking, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity. His question from the day before seemed like a distant memory, a minor blip in their friendly interactions. She didn't dwell on it, assuming it was just a momentary lapse, a strange anomaly in their otherwise effortless exchanges. As they talked, she felt her guard drop, her smile genuine, her heart light. Everything seemed alright again, the tension forgotten, their friendship back on track.

"Okay, see you again !" (Y/N) told glancing at her wrist watch because today she has an important delivery to approval on the said store.

"Yup ! See you again". He bid too when a message notification made her pause, worry etching her face. Her dad's request to bring the anniversary cake had just been detailed by the store's cancellation due to an emergency. Panic set in, her mind racing with consequences, her eyes darting around for a solution. Stress and concern replaced her relaxed demeanor, her fingers flying across the screen to respond to her dad's message. Elias noticing the drastic change asked and she replied elaborating her situation of how she must reach to approvel the delivery application but on the otherhand has to get the custom cake from the cake shop if not then the cake would not be handover.

"How about I went to get the cake instead of you and delivery to your parent's house. Didn't you said it is near ?" He presented the idea, smiling causing (Y/N) to halted her racing thoughts and a breath of air pass her lungs.

"Of course ! Of course !". She laughed heartily handing him the receipts and addresses before running to the delivery store to hastily complete her task and return home as soon as possible.

"Today's work was difficult". Her finger pads rub her forehead re-thinking her workload, getting out of the car and towards her parent's house caught the setting sun's beautiful view. Ringing the doorbell she waited thoughts going back to Elias. "How sweet of a person he is". A smile naturally curl to her lips and wider when the door opened by her mother.

"Happy anniversary mama !" (Y/N) embrace tightly, soaking on her familiar comfort while she returned the affections.

"Thank you dearest. Come inside, it must be hot outside". Her mother close the door behind as she let herself in, walking to the living room finding glimpse of her father sitting on the side chair and ran to embrace him from behind.

"Happy anniversary papa". She sing song, playfully kiss his hair.

"Thank you princess". His aged voice laughed, caress her hands to which she close her eyes melting into his raw love. "Also this young man is such an gentleman. Your taste in men is indeed great like your mother". She frown opening her eyes.

"What are you talking—" Her (E/C) wide, taken a back by Elias appearance sitting across her father, on the sofa and he raised his hands in mock surprise, his eyebrows arched in a playful gesture.

"Why are you—" Her words cut by her mother gentle ones.

"My heartless girl ! You left this man to fend for himself by telling him to get the cake and now you ask why is he here ? Of course I told him to grab one or two bite". The young woman nod, feeling guilty and appreciate at her mother's gesture.

"Ah— about that I am extremely sorry. It was my job to do". Elias shook his head nonchalant.

"Yet without my idea you wouldn't agree so yea, not your fault too". She glee truly pleased to find such a good friend she couldn't ask more and the anniversary celebration was a resounding success, filled with love, laughter, and warmth. As the evening unfolded, (Y/N)'s parents shared a tender moment, her father leaning in to kiss her mother softly on the lips. (Y/N) couldn't help but mockingly scrunch up her face in distaste, eliciting a hearty laugh from Elias sitting beside her. The atmosphere was light and joyful, with the sweet scent of cake wafting through the air. As they gathered around the dessert table, (Y/N)'s parents fed each other cake, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. The beautiful man joined in, playfully feeding (Y/N) a bite, his fingers brushing against hers. The room was filled with the sound of clinking forks and happy chatter, as they all savored the sweetness of the moment, and the love that surrounded them. Time stood still and they basked in the warmth of their little family's happiness, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

"Thank you very much. You helped me a lot". She showed her gratitude standing at the doorstep.

Elias shake his head "I enjoyed it so no need". Silence fill between them letting (Y/N) once again notice the lunar luminescence cascaded over the beautiful man's countenance, bathing his sculpted features in an soft, silvery radiance, as if the moon itself had bestowed a gentle caress upon his serene and peaceful face.

"Bye and good night".

"Same to you". He returned, turning his back to her and drove his car away.

From that day forward, the bond between (Y/N) and Elias blossomed into a beautiful, unbreakable connection. (Y/N) found herself opening up to Elias in ways she never thought possible, sharing with him her deepest thoughts, feelings, and desires. She began to show him pictures of her friends, promising to introduce them soon, and shared stories about her life, her passions, and her dreams. As their trust grew, they exchanged contacts, marveling at how they had gone so long without sharing such a simple yet intimate detail. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, filling their break times with laughter and delight. Elias became (Y/N)'s confidant, her partner in crime, and her guiding light. Their friendship was a symphony of joy, a harmonious blend of trust, understanding, and mutual respect. (Y/N) cherished this new connection, feeling seen, heard, and understood in ways she never thought possible. Elias had become her rock, her safe haven, and her forever friend.

"By the way, I need your help with something". This alert her entire attention to him, sipping her drink from the staw as they both stood in front of the usual drink shop at the mall.

"Yes, anything. What is it about ?" (Y/N) was ready to help him when it's his need of time.

"I need your expertise in sorting through my grandparent's old photo albums. I want to create a memory book for my family, but I'm overwhelmed". Elias avert his eyes, smiling rigidly causing her heart melt at such an thoughtful gesture.

"Aww ! That sweet of course. I am happy to help". But his expression remained uncomfortable.

"But, you need to come to my house for that". He whispered dare to stare into her (E/C) eyes.

She suck her breath knowing she never once visited his home and she gulped nevertheless she grin again because her schedule is free mostly and she wants to help "It's alright ! I am happy to go but of course if you are comfortable". She tilted her head.

"Oh !— of course I would be or why would I ask you for help".

"Likewise but why did you ask me ?" If she recalls correctly he showed her many of his influencer, normal friends.

"Because you are the only friend who is good at managing things. You know like a good event manager who knows how to put things together ?" It earned a melodious laugh from (Y/N).

"I feel appreciated".

"As you should". She giggle more along him for his compliment. Soon she found herself in his car as he drove smoothly through the city, their eyes meeting briefly in the rearview mirror. Arriving at the penthouse he lives. The towering marvel of modern architecture that seemed to touch the stars. He expertly maneuvered the car into the private parking garage, and they stepped out into the opulent lobby, surrounded by polished marble and gleaming steel. A swift elevator ride later, they entered the penthouse itself, a breathtaking expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, chic décor, and stunning city views. Her eyes widened in wonder, feeling as though she'd entered a different world more important his personal safe of walls.

"Sit on the sofa". He pointed going to the open modern kitchen. (Y/N) felt serenity wash over her when her feet stepped onto the shiny white tiles, their cool surface calming her senses. Sinking into the plush black sofa, she felt enveloped in comfort, her eyes darting around the luxurious space in wonder. With each glance, her awe grew, her heart swelling with gratitude for this stunning sanctuary.

"Here, a juice for you and you see those dusty stacks of heavy things. I found them inside". The cold glass slid within her grip but she smiled nervously because unfortunately blinded by the luxury she often seen on the TV she failed to detect the bluntly dusty things.

"Yes". She lied now laiding her eyes.

"They are I think contains photos of my grandparents but I need help to create an entire new album". Elias shrug helplessly.

"Alright ! Let's do this then". (Y/N) full of enthusiasm knelt down, her hands reaching for the dusty photo albums that lay open on the sleek glass table, her fingers touched the worn covers, a cloud of dust swirled up, carrying with it memories of laughter and love. But with the memories came a fit of coughing, as the dust tickled her throat and lungs.

Elias being swift and attentive, appeared beside her, his movements fluid as he knelt down. He handed her a glass of crystal clear water, his eyes filled with concern. "Here, drink this," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. She sipped the water, cough subsiding only then to be aware of the proximity of their bodies, kneeling together on the floor. Their faces were inches apart, their shoulders touching, and their legs aligned. The closeness sent a shiver down her spine. His lagoon gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips, still moist from the water. His hand, still cradling the glass, began to move, his fingers brushing against her face.

With gentle care, Elias thumb rubbed against her lips, wiping away the droplets of water. she felt a sudden jolt of discomfort. His touch, though gentle, sent a wave of unease through her body. She tried to pull back, but his long slender hand lingered, his fingers tracing the curve of her mouth.

"(Y/N), I love you. Actually I was in love with you for a long time. Please, please accept me". Desperation whisper though his pink lips bringing their face closely and gripping her chin with his thump settle on the curve of her mouth.

"But you said you like—" Her words intruded.

"Never as a friend did I said". Elias connect their forehead. "It was you who receive it that way". (Y/N)'s eyes darted away, her gaze falling on the dusty floorboards as she struggled to process the sensation. Her heart raced, but not with excitement— rather with anxiety.

Trapped.

Betrayed.

Bothered.

She is feeling her personal space invaded by the intimate touch. The air thick with tension, the silence between them oppressive. (Y/N) longed to break free, to shatter the uncomfortable stillness that had settled over them. But her voice caught in her throat, leaving her unable to speak, unable to move, as Elias' hand remained, a gentle yet unyielding presence on her skin.

Why ? How ? When ? So many unanswered crawl inside her limited knowledge. Everything was going well, perfect yet why did it has to crash so harshly.

"Please, (Y/N) be mine. I can offer you anything you want. Riches, fame, connection, promotion. Say a word and it inside your palm". Slowly he draw their distance and (Y/N) felt utter destroyed by the wave of soft lips press against her. The kiss was harsh, demanding, and devoid of love. Her hands desperate to push him away, however his slender grip her fast, his arms wrapping around her like a vice or more like an beautiful snake wrap around his beloved prey.

Raged filled her (E/C) eyes, loathing the string of fate leading her in such advance, loathing the feel of his lips on hers, the way his tongue probed her mouth without consent. loathing the way he held her, like she was a prisoner, not a willing participant she wanted to grace her loved man her first kiss.

Finally air became a need did the beautiful man separate their interviwned lips, heat bust his pale cheeks, adoring heart pupils onto his eyes, chest heaving with newfound excitement snarling the chance she shove him, spatting words of vemon and eyes blazing with anger. "You disgust me". With that she ran and he let her.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she rushed to a taxi, traveling to her home of trust, sobbing by the betrayal she was returned by the conditional trust she gave after reaching home towards her bathroom was a burl rather her sole focus is escaping the lingering sensation of Elias lips on hers.

Rushed to the sink, gagging at the memory of the unwelcomed kiss. She turned on the faucet, cupping her hands under the running water to splash it onto her lips. Fingers rubbed her mouth harshly to scrub away the disgust moment yet the sensation lingered, haunting her. She gagged again, her stomach churning with revulsion. (Y/N) grasped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white with tension, as she struggled to compose herself eventually her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the white floor, her body trembling with anger and disgust. She sat there, her back against the cabinet, her eyes fixed on the floor as tears of frustration and violation streamed down her face.

The bathroom, once a sanctuary, now felt like a refuge from the trauma of the forced kiss. (Y/N) sat there, surrounded by the cold, sterile tiles, trying to catch her breath, in effort to erase the memory of Elias. The man she thought was her cherished partner, a delightful friend. Where ? Where did it all went wrong ? Where was the wrong step or word she utter to lead such devastating ending or was his whole persona was a facade. A spider wed to trap a butterfly like her and she was a naive little thing to walk right on it.

As the night's veil lifted, the sun rose, casting its warm rays upon the world. The golden light crept over the horizon, banishing the shadows and illuminating the landscape. The rays peeked through the curtains, gently coaxing (Y/N) out of her dark reverie.

Her eyes sunken and dark from the sleepless night, slowly opened alike two heavy doors creaking on their hinges. The golden light danced across her face, highlighting the purple circles that had formed under her eyes. The horror of the previous night's experience still lingered, etched on her face like a shadow.

(Y/N) blinked, her gaze unfocused, as the light pierced through her brain, reminding her of the traumatic events that had unfolded. She winced, mind recoiling from the memory. The usual ray of sun, a symbol of hope and renewal, now seemed like a harsh reminder of the darkness she had endured. She sat up, her body droop heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The golden light continued to pour in, illuminating the room, however (Y/N) felt not a hint of warmth, not of comfort. Only a sense of dread, a fear of what the new day might bring.

Disturbed by her numb thoughts she called her senior announcing her day off slipping the lie of being sick before declining and about to drift into sleep.

DING ! Her doorbell ring. She ignored. Again. Again. Again. Again and again following with a "(Y/N) ! This is me, your mother and father". Irritated she drag her feet to the front door, opening to reveal her aged parents.

"(Y/N)— what happen sweetie ?" Worry weight her words, touching her daughter's check when she flinch unconsciously frightening both her parents and herself.

"Come inside". Heavy her voice sounded, closing the door and sitting on the chair while they together on the sofa.

The air was heavy, thick with tension. Silence was oppressive, suffocating. The atmosphere was dense, like a knife could cut through it. Slicing through the strained quiet like a razor-sharp blade through velvet. Every breath felt like a struggle, every movement a battle against the crushing gravity of the moment.

"Darling, did you fought with your boyfriend ?" Bravely her mother finally questioned raising her eyebrows.

"Boyfriend ? Fight ?" Her voice trembled.

"Or". The old woman grasp. "Did you break up". Her husband rest his palm on her shoulder while (Y/N) confuse more by their words.

"Boyfriend ? Break up ? What are you talking about ? I do not have a boyfriend to begin with so how can I fight or break up with him ?" Frustration she shake her head as if physically shoving their creative imagination.

"Honey, it's alright. You don't have to hide from us. We understand you wanted to keep it a secret but he told us and we accept him as your boyfriend". Her mother calmly smiled providing a sense of comfort yet all she felt was suffocation and more confusion.

"Okay, at first I was sceptical. He looked flashy, an playboy however he is actually a child at heart, a very good one and is always eager to help". This time her father spoke lacing with a fondness she didn't expect him to talk about someone.

"What is wrong with you ! I never had a boyfriend in my life". She scream her lungs out yet her mother clap her hands on her mouth and her father pressed his lips thin.

"We know Elias is your boyfriend. (Y/N), don't be afraid. We are your parents". Then why ? Then why she doesn't feel the warmth from her parents as if they are distant people wearing familiar faces because the words spoken from their lips doesn't make sense.

"He was never my boyfriend ! Who ever told you that ? Don't assume things on your own". Frustration leaking though her voice, eyes narrowed in a glare and lips in disdain from stress.

"He told us himself. Elias told us when he delivery the cake ! Now don't tell me he was lying". Her father sigh stunned to see her daughter's rebellious side at such age.

"W-what ?" She stutter suddenly the world blurred, the walls melt away like a watercolor painting. The room zoomed out, leaving her suspended in a sea of uncertainty. Furniture and decorations receded into the distance, and she felt like she was floating, disconnected from reality. Their voices turn to distant echoes, thoughts a jumbled mess, as shock wrapped around her like a shroud.

"Why would he be my boyfriend ?"

"Why are you asking us ? You are the one in relationship and you are the one to hid it if not for the good man". Enough. The last straw of her held anger cut.

"G-G-Good man ? Good man ? Good fucking man ! You are calling a man who—who—" Words trailed off, lost in the abyss of her own horror, as she struggled to articulate the vile truth. "A-and that good man—" Despite her effectors the sentences remained unfinished, a haunting echo of her own trauma leaving her succumbed to the darkness of her memories.

"(Y/N)". Her mother's brows quiver and her hand touch hers. "I understand". A sense of relief came to her. Her mother understood, understood her assault by the vile, vile man. "I understand couple fight. They fight a lot and dirty but in the end they fight to be better, to be more loving, setting differences aside fight is normal as long as the couple love each other. You going through a rough patch with Elias is normal. He is a good man, believe your mother's judgment". Her words burn a slap on her cheek and her words were salt on (Y/N)'s wound.

"How dare you !" Her voice shattered the air, a raw, anguished with tears rolling down her cheeks. "How dare you labeled a man who forcefully kiss me ! Get out". Standing up, her eyes close feeling her throat constricted, dry and tight, as shame crept in like a thief, stealing her breath and dignity.

"Oh my (Y/N), couples fights are normal so is kissing. He must have meant it to calm you—"

"So he forced himself on me ?"

"He must not had meant to make you—". Her eyes wide in horror watching their impassive expressions oblivious to her distress she felt a stranger rather than daughter sharing a space now. Their faces blur by her teary vision. They are not her parents. They are strangers. They are not her parents if they slide with a stranger who not only forced himself on her but also lied.

"Get out". She commonded raw, loud and clear walking to her bedroom running from the suffocated, unbreathable small space. Her eyes watched her parents walked away, their figures fading into the distance. She felt a complex layers of emotions and when they turned their heads, she quickly shut the curtains, blocking out the sight of their faces. Her strength couldn't bear to look at them, couldn't bear to see their nonchalant expressions.

Turning away from the window and sat down on her bed, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Her fingers dialed the familiar number of her best friend, the one person she knew would listen without judgment. The phone rang, (Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat. She was ready to unleash all her emotions, to share the pain and confusion that had been building up inside her. She took a deep breath, preparing to pour out her heart to her friend, the only one who could offer her the comfort and support she desperately needed.

"Hello (Y/N) ! How do you do ?" Her ray of light spoke.

"Emily. I-I-I want to talk to you about something".

"Sure, anything (Y/N) ! Aren't I your best friend". Lighthearted giggles on the otherhand comfort her ears.

"The thing is, remember Elias ?"

"Oh ! What about him ? The hottie". A bitter taste left her lips hearing her sound so oblivious yet she understand it's not her fault.

"Well, yes. He yesterday forced himself on me". Silent was the line for a second before a loud screeching noise came.

"What ? That's messed up !" Her firm and resolute voice felt a weight lift from (Y/N)'s heart, a sense of validation wash over her. She was no longer alone in her outrage and hurt. Emily's words were a balm to her soul, soothing her raw emotions. Feeling seen, heard, and believed.

"I knew it you woul—"

"But you see we have to also must see his point of view. He must had done that in desperation to be more than friends with benefits with you. I know normally friends with benefits should know their limits but he is a kind, pure and perfect man for you". As fast as the ray of light came, that vanished in front of her soaking her in cold reality, numbing her heart. Icy truth seeped in, crushing her soul.

"W-what are you talking about Emily ? I never had that kind of relationship with him !! Didn't I told you ?" More tears cover the dry ones, confusion lay on her mind to wonder how each important person to her is on his side.

"Gosh ! (Y/N) forgive me actually Elias told me about your relationship. He was even ashamed to admit it at first before whole heartedly declare his romantic feelings for you that even I was touched". Lies. Lies and lies. Gritted her teeth she decline the call, throwing it on her bed.

Madly her lips parted to scream. Ha ! What a wicked man he is, feeding lies to her loved ones, snatching them away from her and all in an blink of eye and right under her nose. How idiot was she to not notice ? How ? How ? How ? Rage pump on her veins and emotions controlled her rationality.

Swifty she call his number, clenching her fist. "Hello darling, I was waiting for your call". His sickly sweet voice came from the other line.

"Stop this you fucking bastard ! Stop these mind games ! Stop the lies". (Y/N) glare at him though phone.

"Ouch ! Calling my love lies, games hurt more than I expected. I guess this is the power of loving someone. Huh ?" His laughter was like a taunting to her, racing her pulses.

"I will kill you !" She threaten.

"Oh how lovely it is to have your hand on me as I take my last breath". She throw the phone across her bed in disgust and helpless not aware he is driving to her house. Finally obtained the moment he was so patiently awaited. The time to have her vulnerable and alone.

Wasn't she sound so cute right now ? He bite his lips betting she looks more adorable.

Spoiled. Growing up he was spoiled by everyone, every meeting face from his childhood, once they look at his face, they drastically change their behaviors, showering him with free gifts, praises and all, regardless of old or young. He was the beloved of their hearts, the king ruling their minds. Thus, growing up being spoiled wasn't new for him, the admiration stares mixing with some disband doesn't affect him why ? Because that means they are jealous of him. Ha ! Who wouldn't, he didn't view his arrogance as bad, he simply believe it as his confidence nothing more, nothing less after all all women confess to him one after another non-stop yet never did he loved any. Until that fateful day he went to the shopping mall of department store meeting that adorable woman, all red, blushly for him. It amused him to end, what a pleasant play toy to enjoy for sometimes however the drastic change due to her professionalism was a behold see.

She was nothing like the woman he saw that day. He almost tricked into thinking she forget him.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)"

"Of course, Sir Elias".

Good, she didn't forget him. She simply wanted to act professional. How fun. He enjoyed nailling his usual performance that for some reasons always got him claps, praises when in reality he just does it naturally because he has nothing else to do. Unlike other people investing in their hobby, he has nothing. Perhaps because of that he is used to being pampered, loved and given anything he wish.

However why ? Why once again like yesterday after the event end did she not stay to convey meaningless string of words like others ? Always running away like an lamb catching sight of an wolf. Boring. Elias care not to pay attention to her after all many have dislike him but thousands who love him. The next day encountering her again was a pure game of fates but after noting her little consider habits did he realize she loves him.

Because if she doesn't, who will notice the uneven box of lipstick replacing with the perfect one ? If she doesn't, why she glance at him so many times ? Often smiling and appearing cheerful ? If she doesn't, why she always remembers his drink from the one time he ordered ? And so much more.

She must love him. Right ? Oh ! Oh ! How naive he was to not realize her blunt feelings for him. It's okay he has fallen for her too. Yes, Elias, the man who usual pampered has this sudden desire to pamper his beloved, watching her daily or even seen a glimpse of her flutter his heart like never did before. Their accidental brushes of fingers and shoulders sent him jolts of delight. Once seen her beautiful face could his lips curve to smile itself.

It's okay he will wait. Wait for her to confess and him accept. One week pass, two week pass. Maybe she is playing hard to get. Understandable she must be waiting for the perfect moment to confess that must mean he has to appear perfect right ? Daily he spent hours in front of mirror selecting the perfect outfit, smoothly care his hair, highlight his beautiful face. First it was only limited to changing outfits to style his hair daily to cut his hair in more desirable way to only repeat the routine. Each passing day he is refining himself then why ? Why ? Why didn't she even compliment him ? Let alone confess to him already ? He dolled himself up almost—no surely daily yet what is she so timid about. Til he realize —actually she isn't timid at all.

Rather she is not in love with him. How he got to know ? Because he was hastily ran to the mall, very giggy to meet the heart of his life when his breath stuck in his throat. In front of him a scene of (Y/N) tying a middle aged man's tie that came untie and she welcome him warmly in return of his thanks before talking warmly to the staffs asking if any needs they wishes to have, even helping a woman who's having trouble wearing lipstick and non-judgmentally explaining their products to others.

She is actually not in love with him. She is just nice. As if the gods played a ridicule game to him still his hatred was directed to the gods not her. How could he blame her ? She was a naive little thing. Sooner of later she will come to love him. That's why one day he asked her.

"Do you like me ?"

"Yes, As a good friend !" What a dishearten words.

"I like you too." In a romantic way were the words he choose to not speak. It's okay, if she doesn't like him now she will in the future. All she needs is time. He has to nurture, sewed and take time to built the love or else how it would be possible. First he has to make her alone. Alone to reply on him. And only him.

And the gods were at his side to grace him with the opportunity on golden plate he was used to. Using the excuse to delivery the cake to her parents house was the first step to isolate her. So he did what he was naturally gifted at, winning hearts regardless of age. Quickly they were head over hell, swooning at his lies about their secret relationship and more lies about their wish to keep it a secret as she want to disclose it on her own term. Fools, her parents were and naive his (Y/N) was moving closer to him. Showing him pictures of her friends, spewing all of her work related words and he silently memorize her password so when she went to use restroom or busy checking her tasks, he smartly save all of her contacts.

Charming her friends, dancing them at his rhythm against her, saying they are friends with benefits where he was unfortunate to fall in love and finally he invited (Y/N) home and confess his passionate love.

"You disgust me".

Well, didn't it end badly ? It's alright she will come crawling to him. Right inside his embrace all willingly. Elias will be the bigger person in here, forgiving her amuture mistakes because he loves her.

Ring ! Ring ! Elias stand in front of his beloved house, ringing the doorbell. The finale came and his patient broke all lose. This is the moment she has to be his and he hers.

"Mom, Dad ! I told you—" Her breath hitched and instinctively tried to slam the door shut, but he was too swift, too potent. His hand darted out, arresting the door's momentum with a firm yet gentle touch, and he stepped across the threshold with a fluid motion. The door creaked in defeat, surrendering to his quiet strength. (Y/N) retreated, her heart racing like a wild animal, as Elias's eyes seemed to delve into her very essence. His presence was a palpable force, filling the space with an almost suffocating intensity. With a subtle click, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the doorknob as his gaze continued to hold hers captive.

"What's the hurry hmm ?" The gentle smile contrast to the violent actions was ironic. Unfazed he step forward. She step back.

He advanced, his footsteps deliberate and purposeful and (Y/N) retreated, her own steps faltering in a desperate bid for distance.

With each step he took forward, she mirrored with a hesitant step back, her eyes fixed on his, her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you doing here ?" Alarm danger ringing inside her entire body, sending mix signals to her flight, fight or freeze mode. All she felt being hovered by him was fear, no longer the anger fuming her veins.

"Just here to visit my darling". In sing song manner he told, walking until his wild cat cornered. (Y/N) feeling the wooden wall of her kitchen immediately run away near the stairs.

"Just stay there—". Her words cut off.

"Do you love me ?" Using the same honeyed coated voice he asked.

"I will call the police Elias !" She threatened

"Do you love me ?" He bore his lagoon eyes into her (E/C) ones.

"Please stay away".

"If you answer. Do you love me".

"No. I don't". She spat, bewilded by the fact he would wish for her to love him even after the twisted games he played with her.

"Then will you love me ?" Her face contorted in mix of anxiety and exasperation.

"No". Nodding calmly to her denial he picked the nearby kitchen knife scarying her further.

"No. No. No. No. No. Elias ! Please don't do this—"

"I must or else you won't be mine". Saying she was ready to sprint for her survival however he pressed the knife to his throat, tears streaming down his face like rivulets of sorrow, his eyes pleading for her. "Please be mine or I will kill myself". He gaze fondly at her widen ones.

"You are crazy". She whispered not expected such move.

"Yes, I am for you". A sly, mirthless grin spread across Elias's face, his lips curling upward in a macabre smile. "So will you love me ?"

Tears swelled in her eyes, fear and despair mingling watching his steady hand inch the sharp blade closer.

"No wait !"

"Then say do you love me ?" He whisper alike to the sweet nothings hushes. "Because without you why must I stay alive". He added.

"Okay okay I will say it". She doesn't know. She doesn't know why she says it because a twisted sense of desperation clawed at her chest, a morbid longing to preserve the life of the one she loathed, as if his existence was inextricably linked to her own.

"I l-l-lo— I can't". In despair she collapse unable to bear so many complicated emotions and nightmares at the same time in her seemly simple life. Footsteps echoed the silent room as his shoes came to her view and he bend to her level, throwing the knife and cupping her chin like she was a delicate flower despite plucking her roots and held her.

"It's all right you will learn to love me". A happy smile curve his alluring lips that press against hers. This time the is gentle, caressing and lovely as if petals of love is pouring out of his lips silently conveying his words. Slipping his tongue in hers, he trapped her tongue savoring her divine flovours he was thirsty to drink again. Sucking mouthful of air he kiss more, not letting their lips separated for a moment and close his eyes drowning under the moment while she close her eyes motionlessly stilled, letting him do as he please selling herself to him with the price of forever.

As oxygen grew scarce, he parted their lips grinning ear to ear, leaning his forehead to hers.

"This is a lie. All of these are lies you said to others". She utter hopelessly.

"Then let's make it a reality". He suggested however brows frown watching her shake her head.

"Can't. Too much lies to forget".

Chuckly raspy, he kiss once more saying. "Then let's make it the beautiful lie".

FIN

⌜ Once again thank you @meo-eiru for letting me use your wonderful male character Elias and your permission to write this story along thank you readers for reading the story. Hope you enjoy it ⌟

[weasleys-wizard-writes]

Latency Lingering {F.W}

Chapter II - Cold Comfort

Synopsis: after your run-in with Molly earlier in the afternoon, things come to a head when the very man you'd hoped to never see again shows up at your front door, breathless and demanding answers. And thus, your once so peaceful life comes to a sharp and grinding halt, rather likely for good.

When you looked back on it, your final happy evening with Fred was absolutely chock full of the kind of irony that could make a grown man weep.

It was something you'd scarcely considered prior to the birth of your children, the stinging pain of it all dulled by the persistent dread brought on by the promise of an unsupported birth and the overhanging threat of your ex finding out about the secrets you were keeping from him.

But, of course, that dread hadn't lasted forever, and mere weeks after the birth of your son and daughter you had found yourself suddenly consumed by the near hilarity of the tragedy that had befallen your love life, and the ever present sense of irony that hovered over it like a cloud.

After all, it had been on your last joyful evening with your former boyfriend that the then seemingly far off topic of pregnancy had come up, the weight of it manageable for what you had not then known would be the final time.

It had been a warm spring night, and although the weather had been pleasant enough as of late and the promise of your worst school year yet coming to a close never ceased to bring a sigh of relief to your lips, you couldn't help but feel completely miserable.

For weeks at that point, you had been dealing with utterly debilitating nausea (and the less than welcome side effects associated with it) all throughout your days, and though your love always did his best to support you, you could sense his hesitance and worry over your health as the date planned for he and his brother's conjoined escape drew nearer.

Thus, when you'd found yourself in the gryffindor common room pulled tight against his chest, you'd simply melted into him like a scoop of ice cream dropped upon sticky asphalt.

It always made you feel at least a little better, you'd found, to have him near, and you could tell that he was put at ease whenever he felt your familiar weight against him, a subtle reminder that you were alright even in spite of the illness that plagued you.

He would never admit it, and for you, he didn't have to, but Fred Weasley was a worrier, and a skilled one at that.

So, in order to stave off that worry in favor of spending his second to final evening with you at Hogwarts in better spirits than he otherwise might, he'd begun rattling off utterly ridiculous theories regarding the cause of your long term illness, the likes of which ranged from not having received enough kisses as of late, to bearing witness to Draco Malfoy's face each day.

Though, it was your darling's final theory that had truly managed to capture your attention.

"Ugh, don't even joke about that, Fred. It isn't nearly as funny as you think it is."

You'd huffed out with a light groan of semi-exaggerated despair, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as your then boyfriend had laughed in response, tossing a lithe arm, strengthened in part by his history with quidditch, no doubt, across your shoulders.

"Who’s joking?"

He'd inquired with a feigned sincerity, his hand raising up to splay across his chest as if appalled.

"This is a matter of utmost seriousness, I'm afraid."

At that, you'd scoffed.

Fred Weasley, engage with a matter of "utmost seriousness"? Unlikely.

"It’d most certainly better not be. I am far from ready to have your child, Weasley."

Your boyfriend had hummed in response, the look of gleeful mischief in his eyes hard to miss.

You braced yourself for whatever ridiculous thing he was about to say.

"Really?"

He'd questioned as if truly baffled by your (sensible) admission.

"Well, you certainly could have fooled me the way that you- ack!"

Suddenly realizing exactly where he was going with that statement, you’d all but lunged to cover up his mouth before he could finish, not too keen on the idea of random passerbys hearing of your (admittedly rather active) sex life.

Still, Fred had dodged your "attack" quite easily, grinning wide as you'd fixed him with your most intimidating glare,

"I'm being serious, you git. You'd have to be mad to find something so disastrous amusing enough to joke about."

To that, Fred had simply shrugged, pulling you ever closer with the arm he'd kept wrapped around your now slightly tensed shoulders.

"I think we may just have different interpretations of what is disastrous, my dear."

He had teased, breaths tickling the baby hairs that grew atop your head,

"I have it all planned out, you know."

You'd hummed at that, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you turned your head to better see the man sitting beside you.

"Oh?" You'd asked, "Do tell."

Fred had chuckled, leaning his cheek against the top of your head as he spoke.

"First, we get the bloody hell out of here."

He'd teased, knowing full well just how much closer his impending absence was in comparison to your own.

"And then, as we'll doubtless be wealthy and well adjusted men by the time you graduate in a few weeks time, you'll move in with George and I, doing whatever job you please until I either convince you to work at our wildly successful shop, or you really do fall pregnant. Whichever comes first."

You'd burst out laughing and smacked your boyfriend's shoulder at that comment, noting with joy the way that he shook with his own laughter against you.

"A child before marriage, Mr. Weasley?" You'd teased once your amusement had been quelled enough to allow for speech, "I fear your mother would just about flay you for such a thing.”

The ginger had hummed in subtle confirmation at that, shrugging slightly as he replied,

"Perhaps, but I reckon she'd be utterly besotted with you for it, so you've not much to lose there besides your future husband."

"Future husband and the father of my child in this hypothetical scenario, I'll remind you." You'd teased, "I'd be rather cross with you if you fell to your mother and left me to raise Fred Jr. all by my lonesome."

Your love had grinned wide at that, raising a brow as he considered your words further,

"You think you'd give me a son first then?" He'd asked teasingly, "Because I have a feeling our first will be a girl."

You'd outright laughed again at that admission, baffled and highly amused by your boyfriend's utter certainty in regards to your future.

"Ah, my apologies. Fredette then."

The man sitting beside you scowled as if you'd said the most absurd thing he'd heard in weeks.

"I think not. Frederica perhaps."

To that, you'd groaned, shaking your head back and forth in utter exasperation.

"Absolutely not. If you'd have our daughter named after you then I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more creative than that."

"Oh, not to worry, love."

Fred had quipped back immediately,

"As I said before, I've got it all planned out."

You opened your mouth to question the man further, but already knowing what you were going to ask, your love had spoken up before you could,

"Winnie for a girl, and Augustine for a boy."

You'd all but gawked at that, shocked by the sincerity of the man's tone as you pulled away to see him already smiling down at you.

"Why Winnie?"

You'd asked gently, watching as the gryffindor sitting beside you shrugged his shoulders,

"It's a rather cute name, isn't it? I think it would fit an adorable little ginger girl splendidly. I can already hear you calling it out across our home, chasing her down to rub sunscreen on those doubtlessly freckled cheeks of hers as she fights tooth and nail for her right to roast in the afternoon sun."

Laughing, you nodded semi-exasperatedly at the rather vivid scene presented to you,

"If she's yours I'm sure I'll be doing that and many similar tasks quite often."

You'd paused for a moment to think further before speaking up again,

"And Augustine?"

Fred smiled softly,

"I've always rather liked the name, but have never heard it used much." He began before continuing almost hesitantly, "And it certainly helps that I fell for you in the month of August, as well."

Your eyes had widened slightly at that, brow raising alongside them as you'd urged Fred to elaborate.

"August?" You'd asked, "We didn't even have school in August, Freddie."

The man sitting beside you nodded in confirmation to your words.

"I know. It was summer, I was free of schoolwork and able to terrorize Ronald, Percy, and little Ginny as much as I well pleased, but even so, the only thing I could think about was you. Can you imagine, fourteen year old me desperate to get back to Hogwarts all because I wanted to see a girl? It was not an easy realization to come to terms with, I'm afraid."

You'd scoffed at that, hand reaching over to squeeze his own where it draped across your shoulder in spite of your seemingly nonplussed reaction as you considered the proposed names further.

"Winnie and Augustine." You had murmured aloud, tasting the two names together on your tongue for the very first time. "I quite like those."

And just as he'd begun to fiddle with the promise ring adorning the hand that rested gently atop his own, your love hummed softly in confirmation.

"I knew you would."

And then, smiling as you'd closed your eyes contentedly and leaned against him, you couldn't help but let out a pleased sigh.

In spite of all the stress you'd endured as of late with Umbridge's rule, your sudden and unexplained bouts of illness, and Fred and George's impending absence, the future, it seemed, was bright.

Until, that is, the very next day, when you'd learned alone in the girls bathroom that some aspects of it would be coming far sooner than you ever could have planned for or even imagined.

That night, just over twenty-four hours after your hopeful conversation, you had broken things off with Fred Weasley, and you hadn't seen him since.

That is, of course, until today.

Because even in spite of your insistence that she not tell him anything earlier that afternoon when she'd caught you on your way out of that accursed doctor's office, it seemed that Molly Weasley had paid your pleas little mind, for it was only a few hours after you'd arrived home that Fred had turned up at your front door.

And truthfully, you knew that it was partially your own fault that he had found you with such ease.

After all, you still lived in that same flat your aunt had rented out to you during your summers away from Hogwarts, the one she used to supplement her income as she persisted with her freelance photography abroad.

Your mother, her sister, hadn't spoken to her (at least to your knowledge), since she'd refused to kick you out of it after your graduation, but the woman in question had never seemed to mind.

In truth, you hadn't yet found it within yourself to miss your children's maternal grandmother much either.

But still, even in spite of your aunt's kindness, you couldn't help but wish you'd had the forethought to move elsewhere as you stared helplessly at the man standing on the other side of your door.

He looked positively frazzled, and utterly determined.

"Fred I-"

"Tell me that she's mistaken."

The young wizard half demanded, half plead, his hand coming to rest upon the inner lip of the door as if afraid you might close it on him at any moment.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t considered it.

You swallowed thickly at his words, opening your mouth in search of a reply only to have him cut you off once more before you could even begin.

"Or better yet, tell me that she's lying and that this is all some utterly ridiculous ploy to get me to see you again after all these years. Tell me anything Y/n, just not that she's right."

Unsure of what to say, you cast your gaze downward toward the floor and away from Fred's prying eyes, and immediately he drew in a sharp breath and cursed above you, bringing his unoccupied hand to rub across his face.

The silence that descended upon the two of you afterward was thick and cloying, the absence of all sound so harsh that it nearly made you shudder, an urge you only held back because you refused to come across as weak to the man standing before you.

Which, as things went, happened to be rather difficult considering how absolutely terrified you felt.

"Truly?"

He breathed out after several long seconds of nothing,

"All this time, and you were just never going to tell me?"

Slowly, and with a shameful certainty, you nodded at that, hands clasping in front of you as your fingers worried away at the spot on your finger where your promise ring had one sat.

Old habits died hard, you supposed.

"Fred, I..."

You trailed off for a few moments, desperately seeking out the right words, only to give up with a sigh when you realized they would likely never come.

There were no "right words" for you to say in this situation. There was only the truth, as ugly as it may have been.

"I didn't know what else to do."

At that, a short burst of harsh and humorless laughter that was jarringly similar to that which he'd let out on your final night together in the astronomy tower pushed passed your ex's lips, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flinch back from it, a movement which he either didn't notice, or chose to ignore entirely.

"You didn't know what else to do besides dump me with no real explanation and hide my own children from me for nearly three years of their lives?"

He scoffed, looking down at you as if in utter disbelief,

"Does that seem like the most rational decision to you, Y/n?"

In response to his mocking tone and blatant disregard for your reasoning, you looked up to meet your former lover's eyes once more, glaring daggers into them as a hand came to rest upon your hip.

"Was it a rational decision for you to set off fireworks in a school, Fred? Or for you to drop out mere months before graduation?"

You snapped, taking a step closer to the man as you pointed an accusatory finger to his chest, the space between you decreased enough now that you could smell the familiar cologne he'd always worn, the very same one you'd described while smelling amortentia all those years ago in Snape's classroom.

Fred glared right back at you after a moment of what appeared to be surprise at your sudden displeasure, but before he could even think to open his mouth again, you continued.

"How about when you decided to fight in a war that from what I heard, very nearly killed you, huh? And let's not forget to mention this very moment here, where you've turned up to my aunt’s flat in search of your ex girlfriend while looking half a mad man instead of thinking to send an owl first to at least make sure that I even still live here. How rational does that seem, Fred?!"

Your voice was raised now, having been increasing in volume since you'd begun the second half of your rant, and while he had never been one for shouting, it seemed that Fred Weasley was far too concerned with not being outdone to care today.

"You're saying I should have sent an Owl?!" He asked incredulously, the laughter that left him just as barren of humor as the bout before it.

"Oh that's rich coming from you, love, because you could stand to learn a thing or two about sending important owls, it would seem!"

You scoffed, arms crossing atop your chest as you opened your mouth to reply once more, a no doubt biting remark already primed and ready to go at your lips.

As unfair as it was, after all, there was some long buried part of you that felt angry at the man standing before you.

Because even if it was entirely your own choice, you had endured nearly nine long months of pregnancy completely alone, before laboring just under two weeks early all by yourself, which of course had preceded you then raising both of your children all by your lonesome, exhausted and afraid of whatever it was that would come next, because as you'd soon discovered alongside the existence of your children, there was always something else looming on the horizon.

And it just wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair how desperately you yearned for the touch of a man now supposedly unknown to you as you laid in bed each night,

It wasn't fair how curiously your little ones asked about other children's fathers,

It wasn't fair how obviously and agonizingly they took after their dad,

It wasn't fair how you saw him briefly each time you looked into their beautiful little eyes or brushed your fingers through their soft ginger hair,

None of it was fair, not in the slightest.

But just as you were about to open your mouth and express these long buried and ignored feelings of yours, a small and painfully poorly timed voice called out from behind you.

And when you shifted your gaze to see your ex's face more clearly, all you saw expressed upon it was a deep and sorrowful dread as he stared just past you at the once empty door frame, which you hoped against all hope and sense was still bereft of life.

Of course though, you could already tell from Fred's face alone that this was not the case.

"Mummy?"

The young voice that you immediately identified as that of your son questioned curiously from behind you, and finally you swallowed your hopes and fears and turned around to face the music for what felt like the one millionth time in that day alone.

And of course, standing there, backlit by the slightly yellow glow of the bulbs from the kitchen that sat just inside, was your boy, your darling Augustine, looking the very picture of the man that stood just a few feet away from him.

His hair was an absolute mess from his clearly restless sleep, and he was rubbing at his eyes in a manner that made it nearly impossible to make out their color, but even so that inarguable likeness was there.

He looked every bit the quintessential Weasley child, and it made your heart flutter in your chest when you noticed the way that your former love seemed to take this in, as if it were a knife to the gut.

Clearing your throat to rid it of the sudden thickness that you found there, you were quick to reply.

"Yes, love?"

You murmured softly, reaching out gently to help guide the young boy to you when he began to fumble all but blindly in your direction, eyes still blurred by sleep.

"Can sissy and me sleep with you? We've had another bad dream."

At that, you frowned immediately, maternal instincts quick to take over in spite of your stressful situation.

For nearly a year now your twins had suffered from nightmares, often on the same nights, though thankfully from what they had shared with you, they at least seemed to be about differing things.

That said, it did cause you rather significant grief as a parent to see your children suffering so with something you could not even hope to control or change.

It made you feel weak, helpless, and above all else, afraid of your own potential errors or failures in raising your little one's to have something like this plague them for so very long.

Several nights a week you would awaken to the sounds of pattering feet on hardwood, petrified voices crying out your name from down the hall, or little fingers poking at your body to rouse you as one or both of your children sought out the comforts of their mother.

Most often during times like this though, you'd found that it was Winnie who came to get you, her brother (younger by a whopping nine minutes and twenty-three seconds), typically favoring bundling up beneath his covers until you went off to gather him up in your arms and carry him to your bedroom before cocooning him alongside his sister within the blanket that smelled soothingly of you and the detergent you used on it once weekly.

So, naturally, it worried you to note that it was August who sought you out on this particular evening.

Sympathetically, you cooed to the boy standing before you, reaching down to pick him up with ease before setting him familiarly upon your hip with a skill that was rather jarring to the nearly forgotten man standing with his back to the wall just opposite you and your son.

"Of course you can sleep with me, darling."

You assured him gently, rubbing his back with your still free hand as you allowed your voice to take on that soft and soothing tone that all mothers seemed to master at one point or another,

"Does sissy need me to go and get her tonight?"

Your son had just begun quietly shaking his head when the sound of small feet on tiled floors caught your attention, and you immediately turned to better see the source of it as your daughter came into view.

There, backlit in the very same way that her brother had been, stood your ever so brave and dreadfully witty Winnifred, whose hair was still up in messy pigtails from earlier that day due to her refusal to allow you to take them out at bedtime.

You often claimed that she didn't get such stubbornness from you whilst you were teasing her, but you knew deep down that such a statement was far from true.

She was, after all, just as much your daughter as she was Fred's, and it seemed that the apple did not fall far from the tree in that particular regard.

"There's my sweet girl,"

You began, squatting down to offer your unoccupied arm to her,

"Would you like a cuddle as well, then?"

And immediately, the elder of your two children all but launched herself into your arms, muttering softly of her nightmare and the fading details she recalled of it as she buried her face into your neck, relaxing herself with any and all familiaritites you carried about your person.

You shushed her gently, swaying your body back and forth with a practiced rhythm until all of the sudden, Fred's voice snapped you straight out of your reverie.

"They truly are real then."

He said softly, as if in utter disbelief of the sight unfolding before him.

Unsure of what to say, you simply nodded, avoiding his gaze to the very best of your ability as you prayed he didn't notice the quiver in your bottom lip upon hearing the hurt and confusion in his voice.

"I-"

Seeming to choke a bit on his words, Fred faltered for a moment, floundering in place until finally, he simply shook his head and sighed.

"I should go."

Your eyes widened at that, and your head quickly snapped up as the man standing before you pulled a small pen and notepad set from his back pocket, the front of it clearly stained with ink and worn from use.

No doubt for his ideas, then, you realized idly before putting a stop to any familiarity you felt for the individual standing before you.

He was a different man now, a totally new person.

You had no right thinking of him as if you still knew who he was today.

Scribbling out a few lines of text in writing that you knew all too well, the ginger sighed before tearing the piece of paper he had been using out and handing it to you.

"That there is the address to mine and George's shop and our apartment just above it. If you don't find me there, I'm likely at Mum's or somewhere just down the road. Have someone let me know if you ever stop by while I'm not in."

Shocked, you nodded absently before finally finding it within yourself to speak up once more.

"So I'm guessing you'll be wanting me to come to you about all of this sooner rather than later?"

Shrugging in a manner that you would almost describe as hopeless, Fred looked to you briefly before quickly glancing away, as if pained by the mere sight of you alone.

"I would have wanted you to come to me about our children years ago, but better late than never I suppose."

Opening your mouth as if to argue with his statement, you found that nothing worth saying would come.

Once again, it seemed he was rather justified in how he felt.

Once again, it seemed you were the bad guy for doing what you had felt was right all those years ago.

What a mess.

Seeing your apparent speechlessness, Fred simply nodded in farewell before apparating out of your apartment complex without another word, leaving you to wonder how today could have begun so typically and ended in such a life altering manner.

Such was life with twins, you supposed.

masterlist

[stprnioloz]

matt flopped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, his dark hair tousled as he smirked up at you, who was standing above him. “you’re all talk, y/n,” he teased, his voice dripping with challenge. “admit it—you couldn’t take me in a fight even if your life depended on it.”

you were now kneeling bedside his body, hands on your hips as you raised an eyebrow. “oh, is that so? you must be forgetting all those times i’ve wiped the floor with you.”

before he could answer, you jumped on him, his body falling back against the pillows. matt burst into laughter as he tried to fend you off, his hands grabbing at yours to stop your half-hearted attack. “hey, not fair! i wasn’t ready!” he protested, his grin betraying the fact that he wasn’t trying too hard to escape.

“life’s not fair, matt,” you quipped, pinning his wrists down for all of two seconds before he twisted free. suddenly, you found yourself flipped onto your back with matt hovering over you, his triumphant smirk making your stomach flip.

“ready to surrender?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“not a chance,” you shot back, and the playful wrestling continued, the room filled with laughter and teasing remarks.

matt leaned closer, his smirk widening. “you sure you don’t want to give up? it’d be less embarrassing for you if you just admitted i’m stronger.”

you glared up at him, your breath coming in short bursts, but there was no way you were going to let him win. “in your dreams, sturniolo,” you snapped, shifting under his weight. with a quick twist, you managed to free one of your arms and shoved his shoulder.

matt wobbled, caught off guard for a split second, which was all you needed. you used the momentum to roll him over, straddling him with a sheepish grin. “what was that about giving up?” you taunted, pinning his wrists to the bed. “looks like someone’s not as tough as they think.”

his laugh rumbled in his chest as he rested your grip, clearly more entertained than intimidated. “alright, alright, you’ve got some fight in you. i’ll give you that,” he admitted, his tone dripping with amusement. then his smirk turned devious. “but you should know, i never go down easy.”

before you could even respond, he surged forward, flipping you over like it was nothing. his face was inches from yours now, his breath fanning across your cheek as he held you firmly in place. “what now, baby?” he asked softly, his voice teasing and his chest heaving.

you narrowed your eyes, stubborn as ever. “i’ve got one word for you, matthew; rematch.”

“yeah right,” he smirked, leaning down to kiss the tip off your nose before rolling off your body and laying his head on your exposed stomach, his fingers trailing your soft skin.

© stprnioloz

[saffronsplace]

As the sunset fades in the west

pose @ FOXCITY. Dolls V3 (Posing Stand - Rez)

earrings @ andore - peay rings @ vibing - ophelia

eyeshadow @ izzie's - summer eyeshadows eyeshadow @ izzie's - 60's eye make-up - lower lashes

hair by wasabi @ kustom9 - elys outfit by Just Because @ faMESHed - Ophelia Tank, skirt, and sling flats

Heart - Autumn Leaves

[auclairedetoru]

“This has been y/n and Satoru, thank you so much for watching, bye!”

The moment they reached the greenroom, y/n's smile drops. God, her cheeks hurt, nobody talks about how hard it is to fake a smile all day, it's like a workout for your face except you gain nothing at the end.

Her co-star walks in behind her, a cocky smile on his face. If she was him she would get tired of herself. How can someone be so egoistic? He loves himself more than his own mother loves him. Every second she's in his presence, she feels herself losing brain cells and getting gray hair, and as much as she loves silver locks on other women, she does not want the cause of it to be Gojo Satoru.

“Great job today, everyone! Y/n you could've been a little more cheerful toda-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She plops down on the sofa and rests her head against the back of it. They still have one more interview left to do, so she's forced to tolerate that dumbass for a couple more hours, and it's a recorded one so she has to pretend she likes him too.

Why did she choose to become an actress again?

Right, childhood dream, worked hard for it, blah blah blah.

“Whoa! Careful there, tiger! Someone might be filming and you don't want to ruin the season before it even starts.” Gojo smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as he continues to push her buttons.

The people in charge decided to promote the filming of the new season of their show to remind people of it and get them excited, not that anyone was able to forget the last two seasons. According to the statistics, people love a slow burn story, especially when it stretches over multiple seasons. Yes, that does mean y/n has been stuck with Gojo as her co-star for three years now, as known as the longest three years of her life. Everyone around her tells her that time is passing by too fast, but it's been the opposite for her.

She's dreading this season the most. It might be the last, but it means the story will finally reach its long-awaited climax, which means her character and Gojo's will become more than friendly.

She doesn't even want to think about it.

“Leave her alone, Satoru. You still have one interview left.” his manager scolded him making the bright blue eyed man pout like a four year old not getting the candy he wanted.

The fact Gojo and y/n can't stand each other is something known only between them and their close staff, not even the director and producers know that the "chemistry" between them is something they make up on the spot and doesn't come naturally at all. They're surprised no one has figured out they don't like each other in any way, but y/n takes that as a compliment because it means that she's a really good actress who has perfected her craft and is able to fake getting along with a menace like him.

After touch ups, she goes to where the interview is being held, greeting the staff on her way and telling them she's excited to be working with them. Gojo smirks at her from his seat as she makes her way to sit on hers next to him. She mirrored him to keep up with the "we're best friends behind the scenes" thing they somehow built for themselves.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can't a man admire his friend and co-star?” he teases, milking the hell out of the act they put on for the camera. Y/n wanted to roll her eyes but instead she forces out a laugh and takes her seat.

She ignores the way her heart flutters at his words. No need to focus on that.

A few months into filming...

“Alright, everyone!” the director calls out as he claps his hands, “Cameras rolling, sound is up, let's do this.”

Ah yes, the most important scene of the entire franchise. The first kiss scene. This is what the show has been leading up to, this is the moment everyone has been waiting for, this is the thing y/n has been looking forward to the least, in fact, she has not been looking forward to it at all, she wishes it wouldn't happen.

The scene takes place at her character's apartment, a place the set design team has made so cozy looking she wishes she could curl up and take a nap on the couch. Gojo's character is her coworker and he's coming to check on her because she disappeared from the office party after seeing him flirt with someone. That's when she confesses that she's been pinning over him for years and he confesses back before pulling her into a kiss.

“Okay you two,” the director looks at them, “not to put you in any pressure, but this is the most important scene of the entire show. All your hard work has led up to this moment. Satoru, you're the one leading the kiss, remember that she's very vulnerable and heartbroken, so you need to be gentle and soft, she's the person you love most so you're gonna handle her with the most care. Alright? Here we go!”

The apartment door closes between y/n and Gojo as the clapper loader steps in and holds the slate in front of the camera, “episode 11, scene 45, take 1!” they call out before snapping the clapper shut and stepping back.

The director pauses, glancing around one more time to make sure everyone is ready.

"And... Action!”

Y/n steps into character and hesitantly opens the door. Her expression shifts to shock as she sees Gojo standing across from her, hair and clothes disheveled. “What are you doing here?” her voice is a mix between surprise and hurt, just as the script calls for and just as they rehearsed. Gojo's eyes soften, exactly how he was instructed.

Yes, she can't stand him, but that doesn't mean she won't admit that he's really good at his job. He's not one of the most sought out actors for no reason.

“I was worried about you, you left so abruptly.” he says, letting his eyes dance all over her face only to catch her wet cheeks and red eyes, and no, it isn't makeup and fake tears, she spent half an hour before filming started watching "soldiers reuniting with their dogs" videos to get to that point.

He moves to cup her cheek, but just as scripted, she steps back, her expression flattering. She starts to remind herself of things that make her emotional to start tearing up, “I-I'm fine, you can leave.”

Gojo stares at her a bit longer than he's supposed to, but she blames it on his love to suddenly improve, and not that he's admiring her or anything, not like she wants him to admire her, that would be crazy on her part.

"You don't have to hide from me," he says with the same soft tone.

She tries to hold back the tears to keep up the strong and always optimistic personality her character is known for, and after a moment she allows a couple to flow down her cheeks. Gojo's face morphs into a concerned expression.

“I don't like seeing you with someone else,” she mumbles, her voice breaking with every word that slips out of her lips, “it hurts me, right here,” she taps on her chest with a shaky hand.

Gojo's eyes widen to feign surprise, a perfect mix of confusion and disbelief on his face, playing the oblivious character to perfection, “you... You like me?”

“For the longest time,” she sniffs, her voice thick with emotion as she starts opening up, “I held back, I tried not to make it obvious, but i can't anymore.” She drops an octave to deliver the last line, showing as much vulnerability and pain as possible.

There’s a pause, and everyone on set is on the edge of their seat. They could feel the tension between them, the two playing their roles better than what everyone imagined from reading the script. Gojo goes to take a step closer, stopping half way.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice shaking to show that his character is feeling nervous. The director looks intensely between the scene in front of him and the one on the screen, making sure that the intensity they feel in the room is accurate on camera to what's happening in real life.

It's her turn for her to be surprised, playing unsure and hesitant, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth, “w-what?”, her voice trembles as her eyes search his face like she's trying to find any uncertainties.

“can I kiss you? Please?”

Gojo takes the step forward. His voice is soft and his gaze holds hers, intense yet tender, leaving no doubt that his character has been lounging for this and wanting it for just as long if not longer than her.

Y/n takes a deep breath. This is it, she's about to kiss Gojo Satoru, the person she despises the most. She hopes it won't be awkward, the scene was going smoothly and the last thing she wants is a retake from the top, she also doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of the whole crew and become the topic of their gossip.

After a small pause, just as instructed by the director, she gives Gojo a small nod. Gently, and hesitantly, he cups her cheek as he brings his face closer to her. The nervousness on her face is mostly real and she doesn't know why she's feeling that way, she wants the scene to end already.

The moment their lips touch, something surged within Satoru and his free hand quickly grabs her waist to pull her closer to him. Did she always smell so... Devine? Why are her lips so soft? Is her lip balm candy flavoured? Why does she taste so sweet? Why can't he pull away from her?

The kiss is supposed to be gentle, a tender moment of affection, yet the way his hand was gripping the pajama top she's wearing betrays his character's intentions. But the way his thumb caresses her cheek is the opposite, grazing the warm skin softly like he's handling a little kitten. He knows he’s supposed to pull away now. He wants to. He needs to, for the sake of this scene. But something holds him there and it's making him not care about the script anymore.

It’s only when he feels a gentle squeeze on his arm that he finally pulls back. He looks down at Y/n, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, her wide eyes bright with a spark that stirs something deep within him, making him want to lean down and kiss her again.

“cut !”

The pair jumped away from each other. They both forgot they were on a set, filming a show, and not in the comfort of their own homes.

“that was just... Wow,” the director shakes his head with a smile, “Satoru you went a little out of what I told you with the kiss, huh?”

“yeah, sorry,” he smirks with fake confidence, acting like his heart isn't beating faster than a racing car, “I just thought the moment needed that intensity, ya know? He's been waiting to kiss her for so long after all.”

“No I agree, you did the right thing. Go ahead and take five, everyone. This is one of those rare times when there's no need to do multiple takes, the first was perfect.”

Y/n lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and quickly leaves to go grab a water and get some fresh air. She can't believe what just happened. That was definitely not a normal kiss, it felt too real. What was Gojo thinking!? Why didn't he stick to the script and kept it short? And why did she like it so much? She's not supposed to! She's supposed to hate him and everything he does.

“Y/n? Can we talk in your trailer, please?”

Fuck... Please don't let that be Gojo, please let her ears be mistaken and it's not his voice asking her to talk in private, please-

She turns around, and it's him. He stands there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking a little... Shy? Since when does Gojo Satoru feel anything less than bold and confident? There's an unusual softness to his expression, one she only sees when he's playing his character, but without the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that he's just acting.

Despite not wanting to talk to him, she still nods and follows him to her trailer that wasn't parked far away from where they stood. She lets him in first and closes the door behind her to ensure no one can hear whatever they're about to talk about.

As they stood across from each other, Gojo's eyes dart everywhere except to her face, something he has never done before. His usual bravado is gone and replaced with an unusual hesitance. She watches him with a puzzled look on her face. Why is he acting so out of character? It's as if he's nervous to talk to her.

Eventually though, he opens his mouth.

“I apologize for going out of script during the kiss. I didn't plan it to happen and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Now he's apologising? Okay, something is definitely wrong. Gojo has never apologised to her in the three years they've been working together. She is starting to feel nervous herself.

“It's okay, really,” she crosses her arms across her chest, “like you explained to the director, it's what you felt the scene needed, and I respect you as an experienced actor to know what you're doing.”

“That wasn't my reason, though.”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. Huh?!

“what ?”

He takes a step closer to her, a look on his face she couldn't describe, “that's just a lie I made up on the spot. I felt a pull when our lips touched, I don't know what happened to me and it's driving me mad,” he runs a hand through his hair, a habit his manager told her he does when he's anxious, “I couldn't stop myself, so I just let whatever it is take over, but I still couldn't stop, I tried but I just couldn't pull away and I— I want to kiss you again! I want to kiss you right now!”

“Gojo, calm do-” her words fall on deaf ears.

“No! You don't understand! I want to kiss you, but you hate me! You can't even look at me without being disgusted, and I keep making it worse! I keep showing the worst version of myself around you and it makes you hate me more and-”

“Gojo! Stop!”

The look on his face is breaking her heart. He seems so desperate, struggling to put his feelings into words, but every attempt only makes him more anxious, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to make her understand.

“I don't hate you, Satoru”, his heart flutters at the sound of his first name coming out of her lips. Even in interviews, she always used his last name, this is the first time he hears her call him Satoru, “I hate how you act when we're together behind the scenes. You're always so sweet to everyone but I'm always the one you tease, and sometimes your teasing hurts.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just- I've liked you, as a person, before we even started working together, and I treated you how I treated my close friends. I didn't realise I was overstepping boundaries.”

Why is it so easy to forgive him? It must be something to do with the blue I'm his eyes, it holds some sort of spell that makes everyone want to be on his good side.

“It's okay, as long as you own up to your mistakes and don't repeat them, I'm willing to see past it all and start new.”

A huge smile takes over his face, content with her answer. He is so happy, he's been wanting to do this for so long. He knew he wronged her and needed to apologise for his actions, but he never knew how to approach it.

Without warning her, he lifts her up in a hug. A squeal left her lips followed by a melodic laugh as she hears him thank her over and over again. She allows herself to enjoy the warmth of his hug. His fans didn't lie, he is really good at them.

He pulls away enough to look at her face without unwrapping his arms from around her, “Can we start new by allowing me to take you on a date? I promise I'll treat you like the princess you are.”

She feels her cheeks heating up with a blush as she nods, unable to hide the small, shy smile tugging at her lips. Gojo grins wider, his eyes lighting up with an unmistakable spark of excitement and something tender, “can I kiss you again? Please?”

She barely finishes nodding before his lips are on hers. He’s smiling into the kiss, unable to hide the joy bubbling up inside him as he realizes his newfound feelings are reciprocated.

And yeah, she did like him more than she let on. The small crush she had on him before they met definitely didn't disappear like she thought it did, instead it stayed hidden away and came back out when she felt his lips for the first time.

She never expected this nor planned on letting herself fall for The Gojo Satoru Charm™, but with him here, holding her close, and pressing a kiss filled with passion on her lips, she realises maybe, just maybe, she’s been wanting this all along.

The ending looked way better in my daydream lol. Hope y'all liked it still 💕

[ragvas]

Friend´s Little Sister

You hadn't seen Stephany, your friend’s little sister, in years. She used to be this awkward, shy girl who'd always be hiding inside her room when you and her brother were talking about university life. But as she grew older, she blossomed in ways you hadn't expected. Standing in front of you now, she was nothing short of mesmerizing. And... She looked... Taller? You definitely didn´t remember her being 5' 9" (175 cm) tall.

"Hey," she said casually, tossing her dark hair back as she adjusted her tight black top. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, accentuating her large C-cup breasts, but it was her ass that really caught your attention. Her hips flared out dramatically, leading into a rear so round and full that it strained against her leggings. She turned slightly, and you couldn't help but follow the curve of her backside as it jiggled ever so slightly with her movement.

Emma caught you staring and smirked. "You’ve noticed, huh?" she teased, her voice low and filled with amusement.

"I—uh," you stammered, your cheeks flushing red.

"It's okay," she said, stepping closer, her hips swaying. "I know it's… grown. A lot."

Your cheeks burned hotter than a summer day as you tried to avert your gaze from the hypnotic sway of Stephany's enhanced assets. She had always been attractive, but now, she was downright captivating. You felt a strange mix of arousal and embarrassment at being caught staring. "Yeah," you managed to murmur, "It's just... it's quite a... transformation."

Her smirk grew wider, and she playfully slapped her hand against her voluminous ass. The sound echoed through the room like a drumbeat, making it quiver slightly. "You like it?" she asked, leaning in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "It's all thanks to these sweet little blue pills I've been taking. It's supposed to help me, you know, “fill out” in all the right places."

Your heart raced as your eyes darted between her face and her breasts, trying to focus on the conversation while also processing the sudden surge of blood to your groin. The fabric of your pants began to tighten uncomfortably. "I-uh, I mean, it's definitely... noticeable," you stuttered, hoping she wouldn't see the growing bulge.

Stephany chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief as she took a step closer, her chest brushing against your arm. Her leggings were stretched taut over her hips, and the outline of her panties was clearly visible. "Noticeable?" she repeated, her voice a playful purr. "I was hoping it was a bit more than that." She leaned in closer, her breath tickling your ear. "You know, I've been feeling... different. More powerful, somehow. Like I could take on the world with these new... enhancements."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt her warmth against you. "It's... definitely more than just noticeable, Steph," you admitted, trying to keep your eyes on hers despite the siren's call of her breasts and butt. "I've never seen anyone change so... dramatically so quickly. Are... Are you sure that those... uhm... pills are safe?"

She gripped your arm, and she bit her lip seductively. "Oh, they're safe enough," she assured you, her voice a whisper. "But I'd love to show you the full effects... in my room." With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began leading you up the stairs, her hips swaying more dramatically with each step, her leggings stretching to their limits with every movement.

You followed her, your thoughts racing. The feeling of her hand on your arm sent shivers down your spine. Her newfound confidence was both intimidating and incredibly hot and alluring. "Whh… what do you mean by that?" you asked, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart.

You arrived in front of her room. With a dramatic flourish, she swung open the door, revealing a space that was filled with dancing and singing equipment. Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting the disco ball hanging from the ceiling, casting a kaleidoscope of lights across the floor. A microphone stand and a set of speakers were set up in one corner, while a large dance mat took up a good portion of the floor. The walls were plastered with posters of various pop divas, their powerful stances and fierce expressions seemingly watching over the room. "Welcome to my baby room," she purred, releasing your arm and walking over to the dance mat. "This is where I come to... let loose."

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the vibrant posters and the various pieces of exercise equipment scattered about. Then, you spotted something peculiar on the vanity - a white bottle with bold blue letters reading "MILF MAX." Your curiosity piqued, you took a step closer, reaching out to pick it up. "What's this?" you asked, holding the bottle up. The pills inside rattled slightly, drawing your attention to the exaggerated promise it made.

Stephany turned to you, her smile growing even more wicked. She sauntered over, hips rolling with each step, and took the bottle from your hand. "Those are my blue little secrets," she said, popping the cap open and shaking a pill out into her palm. "One pill a day, and watch the magic happen," she said, her voice echoing through the room. "Want to see?"

You nodded, your curiosity piqued even further. You watched as she placed the pill in her mouth, her lips closing around it with a seductive pop. "What exactly do they do?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to her.

With a dramatic flourish, she swallowed the pill, her Adam's apple bobbing in her neck. She stepped closer, her eyes locked on yours, the intensity in them making your knees feel a bit weak. "They make me grow," she murmured, her hand caressing the curve of her hip. "And not just here," she added, giving her ass another playful slap, "but everywhere."

Your eyes widened as you took a step back, trying to process her words. You felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Everywhere?" you echoed, your voice a bit higher than usual. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes danced with excitement as she stepped closer again, the gap between you and her shrinking. She placed her hand on your chest, her fingers splaying out. "In every way a woman can. And it feels... amazing," she whispered.

You felt her hand press firmly against you, the heat of her palm seeping through your shirt. Her words were like a siren's song, and you found yourself leaning in despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind.

Stephany's breath grew ragged as the pill began to take effect. Her pupils dilated, and a soft blush spread through her cheeks. She stepped closer, her breasts pressing against your chest as she looked up at you with a mix of excitement and hunger in her eyes.

"Every time I take one of these," she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, "I feel like I could conquer the world. And right now, I want to start with you." With a seductive smile, she reached up to kiss you, her soft, plump lips meeting yours with surprising force.

Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around her as the kiss deepened. You felt the softness of her breasts pushing into your chest, and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss. Her tongue danced with yours, and you were totally lost in the moment.

Suddenly, you felt a strange sensation, like your body was being pushed back slightly. You pulled away from the kiss, panting, and looked down to see her body expanding before your eyes. Her leggings and top stretched tauter, straining against her newfound size as she grew from a C-cup to a D. Her height shot up to 6 feet (183 cm). She chuckled, a deep, throaty sound, and placed her hand on her chest, watching in amazement as her breasts grew even larger.

"It's happening," she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. "You're going to love this." With a wink, she leaned in for another kiss, her body continuing to expand. You felt her power, her dominance, and it was intoxicating.

You couldn't help but stare as her body grew larger, your own desires growing with her. Her breasts swelled, pushing against the fabric of her top, now an E-cup. You felt your own body responding, your heart racing.

Her hand slid up to your neck, her grip firm as she pulled you closer. Her kiss grew more demanding, and you felt your resolve crumbling. "You like what you see?" she whispered, her voice now deeper and more commanding. She took a step back, her chest heaving with excitement. Her leggings finally gave way, tearing at the seams as her ass ballooned to massive proportions. She was now easily 6' 2" (188 cm) tall.

You nodded, your throat dry. "It's... incredible," you murmured, unable to tear your eyes away from her transformation.

Her laugh was a deep, resonant sound that seemed to fill the room as she stepped back further. The fabric of her shirt and bra gave way with an audible rip, exposing her breasts now swollen to a F-cup. She cupped them in her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And it's just the beginning," she promised, her voice a seductive growl.

Her gaze dropped to the bulge in your pants, her grin widening. "Looks like someone's enjoying the show," she said, licking her lips. "Why don't you come closer?" She beckoned with a finger, her eyes never leaving your crotch.

You stepped closer, your eyes drawn to her breasts, now a F-cup, heavy and round, the dark areolae and nipples standing proudly. You felt yourself getting harder, the anticipation building.

Her hand reached out, her long fingers tracing the outline of your erection causing you to moan softly. She giggled at the way your body responded to her. "It's like you're growing too," she said, her voice a mix of tease and awe. "But I'm not done yet." With another popping of the pill bottle, she swallowed another pill, her eyes never leaving yours.

You watched, heart racing, as she grew before you. Her breasts swelled further, now a G-cup, and her height shot up to 6' 8" (202 cm). You could feel the power radiating from her, the very air around her thick with the scent of her pheromones. "Steph..." you breathed, unable to fully comprehend the situation.

"Oh, it's just getting good," she said, her voice now a powerful rumble that seemed to shake the very floor beneath you. Her hand trailed down to the button of her torn leggings, which she undid with a flick of her wrist. The material gave way to reveal her panties, which were now stretched to the breaking point over her newfound size. She stepped out of the ruined fabric, standing before you in just her panties and the shreds of her top.

With another sultry smile, she reached behind her back, her fingers deftly unhooking her damaged bra. It fell away, and her huge breasts bounced, now completely free. The sight of them, so full and heavy, was almost too much to bear. She placed her hands on her hips, the fabric of her panties straining against the pressure of her ass, which had grown so large it was like two basketballs stuffed into a pillowcase.

You stared, your eyes glued to the hypnotic jiggle of her G-cup breasts, the weight of them making your own desires grow stronger. "Steph..." you breathed again, reaching out tentatively to touch the soft flesh.

Her skin was hot to the touch, and she gasped as you made contact, her body shivering with pleasure. "Yes," she encouraged, taking another step closer, her breasts brushing against your chest. "Feel how powerful I've become."

Your hand cupped her breast gently, feeling the weight and warmth of it. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but knead it gently, your thumb circling her nipple. "It's... unbelievable," you murmured, your voice thick with lust.

Her eyes closed in pleasure at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. She arched her back, pushing her chest into your hand. "It's all yours," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "But don't stop there."

Her hand trailed down to her panties, sliding them down her thick, powerful thighs. She stepped out of the fabric, and you could see the wetness glistening on her skin. She was fully naked before you now, her body a tower of feminine might and beauty. Her ass had ballooned even more, reaching a staggering size that you couldn't even comprehend.

"Look at me," she said, her voice a command that sent a thrill through your body. "Look at what these pills have done to me. And now," she leaned in, her breath hot against your neck, "now I'm going to show you just how powerful I really am."

Her hand guided yours down to her pussy, her fingers slipping over yours to show you how to touch her. She was slick with arousal, and the feeling of her wetness was like a drug, making your head spin. "See?" she whispered, her breath hot and needy. "You can't resist me."

With a growl of passion, she pushed you back on her bed, her massive body looming over you. She straddled you, her swollen breasts hanging down, the heavy weight of them pressing against your chest. Her ass was now so large that it made your legs below her seem tiny in comparison, each cheek round and full, filling much of the space around her with its soft, overwhelming presence. "I want you," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Your hands roamed over her body, exploring the new landscape of curves and power. You felt the heat between your legs as her pussy pressed against your thigh, wet and demanding. "I want you too," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need.

Her eyes darkened, and she leaned in to kiss you again, her breasts enveloping your chest. You could feel her excitement, her desire to dominate and overwhelm you. She reached down, her hand wrapping around your erection, and you groaned into her mouth.

"Mmm, you're so hard for me," she murmured against your lips, stroking you slowly through your pants. "It's like you were made to worship me." She sat up, her breasts bouncing slightly, and began to unbutton your shirt, her movements deliberate and sensual.

With a final tug, she pulled your shirt open, revealing your bare chest to the cool air. She leaned in, her warm breath caressing your skin as she kissed and licked her way down your torso. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

As you felt her warm, wet mouth on your skin, a sudden surge of power filled the room. With a guttural groan of pure ecstasy, Stephany's body grew again, stretching and expanding before your very eyes. She was now a towering mini giantess at 7 feet (214 cm), her breasts swelling to a massive H-cup, the weight of them now unbearable for any mere mortal bra. Her thighs thickened, her hips widened, and her ass grew even more voluminous, the cheeks now so large that they could have easily swallowed a beach ball.

Her movements grew more insistent, her hips started rocking back and forth against your bulge, the pressure increasing with every movement. The fabric of your pants was the only barrier between her flesh and yours, and it was clear she was growing more and more impatient. Her moans grew louder, each one a declaration of the power she now wielded. The pressure of her body was incredible, and you felt yourself getting harder and harder as she grew on you.

Her body began to expand again, her ass and thighs thickening and growing more powerful with each pulse of the pill's potent magic. She grew to a staggering 7' 4" (224 cm), her legs now thick, powerful pillars that could crush you with a single mighty squeeze.

You felt a mix of fear and exhilaration as she grew larger, her massive H-cup breasts swaying with each movement. The fabric of your pants strained against the pressure of her weight, and you realized you were utterly at her mercy. "Steph," you panted.

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at you with a grin that was both mischievous and triumphant. "You're mine," she murmured, her hand sliding into your pants to grip your erection directly. You gasped as she began to stroke you, her touch firm and confident. "Say it," she demanded, her voice now a powerful command.

You felt yourself on the brink of giving in to her completely, your body responding to her touch with a fervor you'd never experienced before. "I... a... ah..." you panted, your hips bucking up against her hand.

Her grip tightened, her strokes growing more insistent. Her eyes were dark with lust as she watched your reactions. "Say it," she repeated, her voice a low growl. "Say you're mine."

You could feel the pressure building, both from her hand and from the sheer presence of her overwhelming body. With a strangled moan, you nodded. "Y-yes... Steph... I... I'm yours." The words slipped out of your mouth like a confession you hadn't known you'd been holding back.

Her eyes blazed with power, and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Good little boy," she said, her breath hot and sweet. "Your giant goddess will fuck you now." Before you could react, she grabbed the bottle of "MILF MAX" and popped another pill into her mouth, swallowing it with a grin.

With a swift movement that belied her massive size, she sat up and gripped the waistband of your pants and underwear. With a powerful tug, she ripped the fabric as if it were tissue paper. Your erection sprang free, standing tall and proud before her. She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Looks like my little growth spurt is having quite the effect on you," she said, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire.

You looked down at your exposed self, feeling both embarrassed and oddly thrilled by her words. Her hand was so much larger than it had been, and you felt like a toy in her grasp. "Little?" you echoed, your voice trembling slightly. "W... what do you mean? You grew so big..."

"Oh, darling," she giggled, her voice a rich, velvety purr that seemed to resonate in the very air around you. "You think this is big?" With a playful smack to her massive H-cup breasts, she leaned in closer, the heat of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "This is just the beginning," she whispered, her eyes flashing with a fierce hunger that sent a thrill through your body.

Her hand slid down to your erection, her touch firm and commanding. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves," she said, her eyes never leaving yours. With a seductive smile, she leaned back, her breasts swaying like pendulums with the motion. Her hand kept stroking you, her pace deliberate and tantalizing. "First, let's get you ready for what's to come," she murmured, her voice a siren's song that made your blood race.

You watched, your eyes glazed over with desire, as her hand worked its magic. You could feel the tension building within you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you reached the peak. "What... What's going to come?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand continued its rhythmic motion, her gaze locked on yours. "You're about to find out," she said with a knowing smile. "But first, I need you to be... just the right size." With that, she took another pill, her eyes never leaving your face. You watched in awe as her body grew once more, her breasts swelling to an unbelievable I-cup, her ass reaching a size that seemed to defy the very laws of physics.

Now towering at 7' 8" (234 cm), she was a true giantess, and the power emanating from her was palpable. The room seemed to shrink around her, making her even more intimidating. Yet, there was a softness in her eyes, a tenderness that belied the dominance of her form. "Ready for your first taste?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, as she positioned herself over you. Her breasts, now a monstrous I-cup, hung down, the weight of them seemingly crushing the very air between you. Your body trembled with anticipation.

"Good," she murmured, her eyes glittering with excitement. She leaned in closer, her breasts enveloping your face, the sweet scent of her arousal filling your nostrils. "Now, worship your goddess little man," she whispered, her voice a command that resonated through your very soul.

You felt the weight of her massive breasts pressing down on you, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating. Your hands instinctively reached out to cup the soft, warm flesh, the feeling of her power making your head spin.

Her body grew even larger, now standing at an intimidating 8 feet (244 cm) tall. Her I-cup breasts had swelled to a J-cup, the weight of them now unbearable for any mere mortal. She leaned down, her huge nipples brushing against your lips. "Suck on them," she instructed, her voice a powerful command that sent a shiver down your spine. "Worship me."

Your mouth opened, and you eagerly latched onto one of her massive nipples, sucking it gently. The taste of her sweet soft skin, the feel of her sexy body against yours, was intoxicating. You could feel her power growing, her breathing becoming heavier.

Her moan of pleasure was a symphony in your ears as you obeyed her command. She arched her back, her breasts swelling even larger in your hands, now a K-cup, as she grew to 8' 2" (249 cm). The pressure of her body was immense, but it only served to fuel your desire.

With a wicked grin, she pulled away, leaving your mouth wet and desperate for more. "You like that?" she taunted, her breasts now swaying with her every move. "But I want you to see what else I can do." She leaned back, her hand sliding down to her pussy, her fingers toying with her clit. The sight was mesmerizing, and you watched, unable to tear your gaze away.

Her body grew once more, the pill's magic working its way through her. Now standing at 8' 6" (260 cm), her ass had reached unbelievable proportions, stretching the very fabric of reality. Her breasts grew to a staggering L-cup, each one heavy and full, the weight of them pulling her torso down slightly. "You see this?" she said, her hand cupping one of her massive orbs. "It's all for you."

You nodded, your eyes wide with amazement, as you watched her grow larger and more powerful. Your cock throbbed in anticipation, and you felt your body responding to her dominance. "It's... incredible," you managed to murmur, your voice trembling.

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your reaction. "I knew you'd love it," she said, her voice now a deep, resonant purr. She leaned in closer, her L-cup breasts now brushing against your chest with each breath she took. "But we're not done yet." With that, she took another pill, her body spasming slightly with the influx of power.

Her body grew even more, reaching a staggering 8' 10" (269 cm), her breasts now a voluminous M-cup. She positioned herself over you, her legs straddling your waist. With a knowing smile, she reached behind and guided your erection to her dripping wet entrance, the heat of her pussy making you gasp. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper. She lowered herself down, her pussy enveloping you in a warm, tight embrace. You felt yourself being swallowed whole as she took you in, her moans growing louder with each descent. "Oh god, you feel so good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut as she grew even larger, her body adjusting to the new sensation.

Her movements grew more deliberate, each stroke of her hips sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel her thick, powerful thighs against yours, the pressure of her massive M-cup breasts against your chest as they grew even larger, now an N-cup. She was like a living, breathing sex goddess, and you were her devoted worshipper. The sight of her was mesmerizing, her body a landscape of curves and power. Her eyes remained closed, lost in the ecstasy of her own growth. She took another pill, her moan vibrating through you as her pussy tightened around you. The room filled with the sound of her pleasure, her ass now so large it could have easily filled an armchair all on its own, jiggling with each movement.

You couldn't believe the sensation of being inside her, her tightness and warmth enveloping you as she grew even larger. Each pulse of the pill's power seemed to amplify the feeling, making you more and more desperate for release. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your balls becoming unbearable. "Oh, Steph... I'm going to... I'm going to..." you managed to get out between gasps.

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at you with a look of pure, unbridled power. Her massive N-cup breasts, now swollen to O-cup proportions, swayed with each movement of her hips, casting shadows on your face. A wicked smile played on her lips as she took in the sight of you beneath her, tiny and helpless. She leaned down, her heavy breasts pressing into your chest, her breath warm on your face. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice a seductive growl. "Say it." She took another pill, her body spasming with the influx of power, growing to 9' 1" (277 cm), her ass now so massive it filled the space behind her like a mountain. Her O-cup breasts grew even more, the weight of them now a delicious burden that seemed to press you further into the bed. The room was filled with the sound of her body expanding, the fabric of the bed straining and popping as she grew.

You felt the weight of her body, the pressure of her breasts, and the power of her dominance. The reality of the situation washed over you in waves, leaving you trembling with both fear and unbridled lust. "I... I'm yours," you gasped out, your voice shaking as you felt her pussy tighten around you.

Her smile grew even more wicked as she felt your submission. She leaned down, her P-cup breasts pressing into your chest, her nose almost touching yours. "That's a good boy," she murmured, her voice now a powerful growl. "Look at you, so tiny compared to me." She sat up, her massive body casting a large shadow over you. "Remember when I was just a little girl looking up at you and my brother?" She giggled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, I could crush you both with my giant ass."

Your body was pinned under the weight of her colossal form, your hips desperately trying to buck upwards to meet hers, seeking release. But it was futile, like trying to move a mountain. The feeling of her massive thighs, thick as tree trunks, against your sides was overwhelming, trapping you beneath her. The pressure of her swollen pussy around your cock was driving you insane with pleasure. You looked up at her, her eyes glazed with lust, and you could see the pill-induced euphoria painting a picture of dominance across her face.

With a throaty chuckle, Stephany looked down at you, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and desire. She leaned back slightly, the weight of her P-cup breasts pulling at her chest and began to playfully swirl her fingers around her large engorged nipples. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, making your cock throb within her. Her smile grew wider, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Look how weak you are," she taunted, her voice a seductive purr. "You can't even make me move.

With another sly smile, she took another pill, her body convulsing with the sheer power of the transformation. She grew even more, reaching a staggering 9' 4" (285 cm) with breasts that had swollen to a Q-cup. Her ass was so large that it looked as if it could swallow you whole, and the pressure against the bed was now intense enough to crack the frame.

Her eyes never leaving yours, she whispered the question with a smirk. "Do you want me to make you cum?" The question hung in the air, thick with the promise of what was to come. Her hand slid down to her pussy, her fingers playing with the wetness that coated her folds.

You nodded frantically, unable to form words as the pressure built within you. The sight of her playing with herself was too much to handle. "Yes... please... make me... cum," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Her eyes lit up at your words, and she leaned in closer, her massive Q-cup breasts threatening to suffocate you. Her voice was a purr, a promise of untold pleasure. "Do you accept me as your goddess?" she asked, her hand still working her clit with expert precision.

You nodded, the fear and excitement mingling into something you had never felt before. "Yes," you managed to murmur, the word barely escaping the vice of her breasts. "I accept you as my goddess." The room around you felt like it was spinning as she grew yet again, reaching a towering 9' 8" (295 cm), her breasts swelling to an R-cup. Her thighs were like steel, trapping you beneath her, and her ass was so large that just one of her massive cheeks was larger than your torso.

Her eyes flared with power, and she took another pill, her body stretching and growing even more. Her breasts grew to an unbelievable S-cup, and she was now whole 10 feet (305 cm) tall. She leaned back, her hands on her hips, watching you with a predatory gaze as she began to grind her hips in a slow, torturous circle. "Then worship me," she demanded, her voice a thunderclap that echoed in the tiny space between you. "Beg for your release."

You felt so insignificant beneath her, your body responding to her every move with a mix of fear and lust. "Please, Goddess," you begged, the words feeling right on your lips. "Please let me cum inside you..." The pressure was unbearable, and you felt yourself slipping away, your body a vessel for her pleasure. You reached up, your hands trembling, to cup the undersides of her massive S-cup breasts, feeling the weight of her power in the heft of her flesh.

Her eyes narrowed, and she took another pill, her body growing to a staggering 10' 2" (310 cm) with breasts that had swelled to a T-cup. The room was now filled with the sound of her breathing, heavy and needy, her chest heaving with the effort of containing her new size. She leaned down, her breasts enveloping you, the weight of them pressing you into the bed. "Call me Goddess," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "And maybe I'll give you what you want."

You felt the pill's power rushing through her, her pussy tightening around you. "Please, Goddess," you panted, your voice a desperate whine. "I'll do anything." Your hands slid up to her giant breasts, feeling the softness of her skin, the weight of her power.

Her grin grew even more wicked, and she leaned down, her massive T-cup breasts enveloping your face. "Say it," she demanded, her voice a powerful growl. "Say you're mine and you'll never leave me."

You nodded, overwhelmed by the sheer power of her body, her breasts pressing into your face like soft, warm pillows. "I'm yours," you murmured, your voice muffled by the flesh that surrounded you. "Goddess." The word slipped out, feeling so right in that moment. Your hands gripped her breasts, feeling their weight, the sensation of being dominated by her overwhelming size sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You felt her hips tense, her muscles rippling like a sculpture of pure sexuality, and then she took you over the edge. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed as she swelled to a massive 10' 6" (320 cm), her breasts reaching a voluminous U-cup.

With a deep, satisfied sigh, she leaned back, her breasts lifting off your face. You looked up at her in awe, your vision blurry with lust. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dark with pleasure. "You like that?" she asked, her voice a low, seductive purr. "You like being dominated by your giant goddess?" She took another pill, her body stretching and growing until she stood at 11 feet (335 cm), her breasts now an enormous V-cup.

Your body felt like jelly beneath hers, the intensity of your orgasm still reverberating through you. "Yes, Goddess," you murmured, your voice shaky with pleasure. "I love it." You watched in amazement as she grew larger, her W-cup breasts now heavy and pendulous, their weight seemingly too much for the bed to handle. The room was filled with the scent of her arousal, and you could feel her power growing with every inch she gained.

"Mmm, I'm so glad," she cooed, her voice a rich, velvety purr that seemed to resonate within your very soul. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she glanced at the bottle of pills. "You're going to love what I have planned for us." She leaned over, cradling your face in her massive hands, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her enormous size.

"Mmm," she purred, pressing her plush, full lips to yours in a kiss that left you breathless. You felt utterly captivated, helpless under her spell. Every movement, every breath she took seemed to draw you deeper into her intoxicating embrace.

Gazing down at you with a look that was both tender and possessive, Stephany smiled. "This is only the beginning," she murmured, her voice low and resonant. "We'll experience pleasures beyond anything you've ever dreamed of."

And as she wrapped her arms around you, her towering form engulfing you in warmth, you felt yourself surrendering completely, ready to follow her wherever this thrilling journey would lead.

-----

You can find more like this at my deviantart. 😊

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/ragvas

[yeostinys]

My Dear Darling

Chapter 5

Pairing: Frat OT8!ATEEZ x Female Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, Fluff, Angst, Polyamorous Relationship!

Notes: NonIdol!AU, CollegeAU. Explicit language. Polyamorous Relationship, (if you are not into that just pls ignore)

Word Count: 8k

Synopsis: someone finds out about your relationship with ATZ. And the boys made an agreement amongst themselves?

Previous >>> Next Chapter

_____________________________________

The evening sun poured through the large window of your studio apartment, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the room. You sat on your soft, plush couch, surrounded by a chaotic array of notebooks, crumpled papers, and the persistent hum of your laptop. With a weary sigh, you leaned back, your shoulders heavy with the weight of the past five hours spent wrestling with a report for your internship.

You had always been the type to overwork, driven by an insatiable desire to excel in everything you undertook. Balancing school, work, and your social life had never been a challenge for you—until now. A sense of dread settled in your chest as you approached the report’s conclusion. You longed for relaxation, for a moment to breathe, to escape the demands of your responsibilities. Above all, you yearned to see your boyfriends, their laughter and warmth a distant echo in your mind.

But they were busy too, their own schedules packed with classes and commitments. You admired their relentless dedication to their studies, how they managed to immerse themselves in their work while still carving out time to enjoy life’s fleeting moments. As you thought of them, a swirl of emotions tugged at your heart—admiration mixed with a pang of guilt. You realized you hadn’t spent any real time alone with some of the ATZ boys lately, and the thought nagged at you.

Determined to push through, you glanced at your report, the words blurring together. Each sentence felt like a barrier between you and the fun, light-hearted evenings you craved. The idea of wrapping up your work propelled you forward. You could almost envision the laughter, the playful teasing, the joy of being with them. With renewed focus, you typed furiously, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you worked to complete the report, each keystroke a step closer to the moment you could finally leave the stress behind and reconnect with the people who made your heart race.

*Buzz*

The sound of the doorbell buzzed through the apartment, pulling you from your focus. You looked up from your laptop, curiosity igniting as you turned toward the door. Setting your device aside, you sprang from the couch, excitement thrumming in your chest.

Approaching the door, you peered through the peephole and felt a wide grin spread across your face. There was Jia, her eyes sparkling with mischief, balancing two cups of soda and a large takeout bag in her hands. Without a second thought, you swung the door open, unable to contain your joy.

“Jia!? What is this!?” you exclaimed, a delighted shriek escaping your lips as you pulled her inside, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Aren’t I the bestest friend ever?” Jia struck a playful pose, her eyes dancing with energy as she handed you one of the drinks. You couldn’t help but giggle at her antics.

Together, you made your way to the kitchen island, sliding onto the barstools with a sense of camaraderie. The familiar sounds of wrappers crinkling and soda fizzing filled the air as you began to feast on the fast food spread before you.

“Okay, to be completely honest…” Jia turned toward you, a fry poised between her fingers, her expression suddenly serious yet playful. You leaned in closer,

“This is in celebration of me. I couldn’t tell you through text…” She paused, her grin widening as if about to share a great secret. You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your soda, anticipation building.

“Okay…? What is it?” you prompted, eager for the scoop.

“Wonho and I… ARE OFFICIALLY DATING!” Jia shrieked, her voice ringing with glee. She playfully grabbed your legs, shaking them in excitement. Your eyes widened in surprise, a radiant smile breaking across your face.

“Shut up!?” you gasped, covering your mouth in disbelief. “YES!”

Jia burst into laughter, her joy infectious as she jumped in her seat, the sheer happiness radiating off her.

“Holy shit, finally! I’m so happy for you!” You beamed at her, your heart swelling with joy. “After who knows how long of you two messing around with each other, you finally made it official.” You stuffed a fry into your mouth, savoring the moment.

“Ugh, I know,” Jia sighed, her eyes dreamy. “Honestly, it was my fault. I was crazy scared of commitment. But something about Wonho changed me.” She giggled, a soft smile playing on her lips as she lost herself in thought.

You watched her, a fondness growing in your chest. “I’m happy for you Jia” you said with sincerity.

In that moment, your phone buzzed, interrupting the laughter between you two with the sudden notification. You glanced down, your heart skipping a beat as you saw a message from the group chat with ATZ.

Hongjoong: We are watching a movie tonight. Want to come over?

Yuyu: I’ll pick you up if you want, Y/N.

Mingi: Please come, we are watching a scary movie. I need you to hold me!

A warm smile crept across your face, and you quickly typed a response, excitement bubbling inside you.

Y/N: Jia’s over right now. I’ll try to come by later.

You looked up just in time to catch Jia eyeing you, her brow raised in curiosity as she took a sip of her fizzy soda. She leaned forward slightly, trying to peek at your screen, but you swiftly closed your phone, feigning innocence.

“Who’s got you smiling like an idiot?” she teased, squinting her eyes with playful suspicion.

“What? No one…” you replied, hastily shoving a fry into your mouth as a distraction.

“Nice try, Y/N. You’re hiding something,” Jia declared, her playful glare intensifying.

“I know when you’re lying. Who’s got your attention?” She reached for your phone, but you instinctively snatched it away, your heart racing.

“You are hiding something!” Jia exclaimed, her tone half-joking, half-serious. Without missing a beat, she jumped to conclusions. “Oh my god, is it Wooyoung?!”

You froze, stunned into silence.

“IT IS! I remember, I literally saw you two grinding on each other at the party!” Jia grabbed your shoulders, shaking you in excitement. You scrunched your face in defeat, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Or is it Yunho? I remember you had a crush on him a few summers ago, and you two have been talking a lot again,” Jia continued, her excitement bubbling over as she pulled back, tapping her chin in thought.

“Jia, please!” you exclaimed, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation, though amusement danced in your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh at her ability to connect the dots, despite her notoriously short attention span.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” she said softly, pressing her lips together as she stared at you expectantly.

You bit your lip, contemplating how much to reveal. “We’ve just gotten really close, that’s all,” you finally said, taking a sip of your soda to buy time.

“We?” Jia’s eyebrow shot up. “Who’s ‘we’?” She leaned against the counter, clearly intrigued.

“All of ATZ…” you mumbled, unable to meet her gaze.

“All of ATZ?!” Jia’s voice rose an octave as she covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Wait… is that why you’ve been hanging out with them so much?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the nervousness bubbling in your stomach.

“I’m confused, though. Why so suddenly?” Jia pressed, her brow furrowing in genuine concern.

“Uh… I’ve just recently become their Fraternity sweetheart…” you confessed hesitantly.

“Really?” Jia sounded unconvinced, her eyebrow arched.

“Yes,” you insisted, trying to sound confident despite your nerves.

“Y/N, ATZ never had sweethearts before! And you’ve been asked by so many other frats to be their sweetheart but always declined—until now. So what’s really going on?” Jia’s tone turned serious, her concern palpable. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her scrutiny.

“Jia…” you began, meeting her gaze. She could see the distress in your eyes. “I need you to keep an open mind about this, and… promise me it stays between us.”

Jia nodded, her expression earnest as she took your hands in hers. “Yes, of course.”

“I’m… dating…” you paused, heart racing. Jia’s eyes widened, and she gasped dramatically.

“SAN?!” she shouted, her voice nearly shrill. “I THOUGHT YOU HATED HIM?!”

“Jia! Let me explain!!!” You threw your head back in frustration, feeling the rush of emotions bubble over.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” Jia said, her voice softening as she pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I’m dating… all of them,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jia’s eyes widened further in disbelief. “You’re messing with me,” she said, laughing nervously.

“I’m not, I’m serious…” you replied, looking down, unable to meet her incredulous gaze.

“Since when?” she asked, her tone shifting to calm curiosity.

“We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. They all confessed their feelings and wanted a polyamorous relationship. I was just as shocked as you are. I didn’t think I’d ever be in a relationship like this, but I really do like all of them…” Your voice trembled as you spoke, fear of judgment gripping you. Jia blinked in surprise, then broke into a chuckle.

“Wow… eight boyfriends. How fucken lucky are you”

Relief washed over you, and you leaned in for a hug, closing your eyes as you let out a sigh. “Oh my god, I thought you were going to judge me and dump me as a friend.”

“Me? Oh, Y/N-ie. You’re my best friend, and I support you in anything and everything you want to do.” She pulled back, smiling warmly. “Your secret relationship with them is safe with me.”

Holding out her pinky, Jia grinned. You chuckled at her gesture and interlocked your fingers.

“Thank you, Jia…” you said, feeling a wave of gratitude.

“So, I’m going to need all the details on this. Because damn, ALL OF THEM WANT YOU?!” she exclaimed, her witty self returning. “That’s actually so crazy because now that I think about it, you have liked almost all of them at least once!”

You laughed, the tension from earlier dissipating as you launched into a detailed account of how your relationship with ATZ began. The two of you migrated to the couch, popping a bottle of wine and filling your glasses with the rich red liquid, as you sipped and shared everything—their dynamic, your feelings, the whirlwind of emotions that had led you to this point. You appreciated how open-minded Jia was, her laughter ringing true without a hint of judgment.

“Wait, Y/N, I just realized,” she interjected, holding up a hand to pause your story. “I thought you and San had beef since high school?”

You bit your lip, the memories flooding back.

“It’s complicated… I was confused too when I found out he liked me.” You took a sip of wine, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t deny I’ve always had feelings for him. There’s obviously something unresolved between us, but he cares for me—I can see it when we’re together. He’s just so confusing.”

Jia raised an eyebrow, sipping her wine thoughtfully.

“Hmm, interesting.” She glanced at her phone, a smile breaking across her face. “Oh! Wonho’s off work!”

Jia set her glass down, bouncing with excitement. “I’m going to head out.”

You stood up with her, laughter bubbling between you as you walked to the door. She turned to face you one last time.

“My Y/N~ thank you for opening up to me about this. Everything is safe with me. I’m so happy for you. But if any one of them hurts you, I will kill them,” she said, her eyes serious as she held your shoulders.

You nodded, laughing at her fierce loyalty. “Thank you, Jia.”

“Bye now! Love ya!” she called as she stepped out, waving enthusiastically.

“Love ya!” you shouted back, chuckling as you closed the door behind her.

———

After bidding Jia farewell, you turn and stroll back to the couch, the soft fabric welcoming you as you reach for your phone. Your fingers tap the screen as you open the group chat with ATZ, a familiar wave of excitement washing over you. You quickly type a message, letting them know you're on your way, then glance at your reflection in the nearby mirror. A few swift touches—smooth hair, a quick spritz of your favorite fragrance—make you feel a little more put together. Slipping into your shoes, you feel a tingle of anticipation, ready to step out into the evening.

Just as you’re about to grab your bag, your phone rings, the sound slicing through the air. You glance down to see San’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but smile as you press the green button to answer.

“Hi, San,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’m almost at your place. Just wait for me. I’ll come get you,” he replies, his tone calm and reassuring.

“You didn’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I was at the convenience store near your apartment getting snacks when you texted. It’s no big deal,” he explains, the warmth in his voice easing your initial surprise.

“Okay…” you say, feeling a mix of gratitude and a hint of annoyance that you didn’t get to argue your point.

“I’ll let you know when I’m here,” he adds, and before you can respond, the line goes dead.

Settling back onto the couch, you keep your phone close, glancing at it occasionally as the minutes tick by. Time seems to stretch, the anticipation building until you hear a firm knock on your door. You leap up from the soft cushions, your heart racing as you rush to the door. Peering through the peephole, you catch sight of San, you quickly open the door.

“San, you didn’t have to walk all the way up here. I could’ve just met you down in the lobby,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s alright. Let’s go,” he replies with a smirk, playfully ruffling your hair. The gesture sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile back.

As he turns to walk away, you follow behind him, still nervous as ever.

———

The walk to the ATZ house was enveloped in a serene quietness, the kind that felt both comfortable and charged with unspoken words. The air was thick with familiarity, as if the very atmosphere had normal between you and San. He strode slightly ahead of you with a long, effortless gait, his tall figure casting a protective shadow over your smaller frame. San’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans, while the other grasped a crinkled black plastic bag filled to the brim with an array of snacks and drinks. His focus was fixed on the path ahead, but you found yourself stealing glances at him, lost in admiration—his strong jawline accentuated by the late afternoon sun, his perfect nose. Just as you began to lose yourself in those thoughts, his voice cut through the silence.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked nonchalantly, an eyebrow quirking up as his eyes flicked toward you. Your heart raced, and you felt your cheeks warm as you diverted your gaze forward. San chuckled lightly, and you both continued your walk.

With your eyes cast forward, you recalled your earlier conversation with Jia—a conversation that now felt like it held the weight of the world. She now knows your relationship dynamic with ATZ. You should have talked to the boys first, but Jia was your best friend, and the pressure to keep such a vital piece of information under wraps had been intense. The thoughts loomed over you as you continued walking in silence.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment shattered as you felt a sharp tug on your arm. Before you could comprehend what was happening, you found yourself enveloped in San’s arms. Your heart pounded as you looked up, only to see a biker whizzing past, careening dangerously close to you.

“What an asshole,” San muttered, his face darkening with concern as he glared at the cyclist. The unexpected warmth of his embrace took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were frozen in place.

“Are you okay?” San asked, his voice dropping to a serious tone as he looked down at you, instinctively releasing his hold. Nodding in response, you remained silent, feeling the lingering effects of his touch.

“Did you not hear the biker ringing his bell? You looked so lost in thought; I had to pull you aside,” he noted, his gaze steady and penetrating, eyebrows raised in a gentle challenge.

“Sorry… I didn’t hear,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your tone.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” San inquired softly, his voice inviting you to share your burden. You felt caught in his gaze once more, the intensity of his attention forcing you to look away.

“Sannie…” The nickname slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. It shocked you, yet it felt so natural—a small sweetness in the tension of the moment. San’s heart quickened at the sound, and he bit his lip, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his tone gentler now, reaching out to grasp your wrist, sending a rush of warmth through you. The endearment made you blush, and your eyes widened at the unexpected intimacy.

“I told Jia about our relationship,” you admitted softly, looking down to hide the uncertainty in your eyes. His expression shifted, surprise flitting across his face before he smiled, easing the knot of tension inside you.

“Is that it?” he lifted your chin, compelling you to look at him. You nodded, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. “I just couldn’t keep it from her any longer. She’s like my sister and deserved to know. I’m sorry…” you let the words tumble out, a sense of shame creeping into your voice.

“Why are you sorry?” San asked, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity.

“I felt like I should’ve talked about it with you guys first before telling her. It’s your guys relationship too. But she swore not to tell anyone! Regardless, I’m sorry if I crossed the line,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N, it’s okay.” San chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “It’s just Jia. If you trust her, so do we. Plus, we told you before—whenever you're ready to let anyone know, we will be ready too.” He ruffled your hair playfully, and relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a scorching day.

“Okay…” you replied, staring at your feet for a moment before hesitantly meeting his gaze again. “Can you help me tell the others that I told Jia?” You clasped your hands together, looking at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes. He raised an eyebrow, wearing a bemused expression as he nodded.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He resumed walking, and you hurried to keep pace at his side.

Your heart swelled with warmth at the softness of your interaction, something that felt rare and precious between the two of you. How unexpectedly sweet it had been. It was as if a curtain had lifted, revealing the deeper elements of your relationship—elements that were often obscured by playful teasing and banter.

Yet, beneath that sweetness lingered confusion. With the other members, interactions had flowed naturally and easily, but with San, everything felt more complex. He held an alluring mix of playful charm and guarded distance. You wanted to understand him better—the man who could swing between being aloof and tender. You recalled that lingering moment from that night not long ago when San had cried, clearly from being too drunk. His constant words of “hurting you” was a statement that lingered in your thoughts, especially when paired with the memory of his endearing, clingy demeanor due to too many drinks. A quiet giggle slipped from your lips as you remembered drunk San, and he turned to you, curiosity piqued.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, an eyebrow raising in question.

You couldn’t help but smile wider at his genuine interest. “Sannie, do you remember anything from the night of XIK’s party?” You tilted your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him.

“Yeah, why?” he replied, sounding a bit suspicious but intrigued.

“Well, do you remember anything from when we got home?” Your words danced in the air, teasing him playfully.

“Just tell me, Y/N. I don’t want to play guessing games,” he insisted, crossing his arms and facing you.

“Hm, drunk San is much nicer to me,” you retorted, giving a light roll of your eyes as you looked away, feeling confident in your teasing.

San released his crossed arms, his exasperated sigh punctuating the air. “Just tell me what I did, please,” he pleaded.

“Nothing much, you were just super clingy and kept asking for me,” you teased, walking away from him. “And you were a cry baby” You laughed as you picked up pace, the small distance between you growing with your mischievous retreat.

San’s eyes widened in shock as he followed behind you. “I what?” he called out, a mix of disbelief and genuine curiosity in his voice.

Just as you approached the front door of the ATZ house, you could hardly contain your laughter as you felt the exhilaration of the moment. Before you could even reach for the door handle, San gripped your wrist and pulled you back toward him, his eyes narrowing with playful intensity.

“What do you mean I was a cry baby?” he asked, his expression a mix of faux annoyance and genuine concern. You looked up, your heart thudding as you found yourself caught in the intimacy of his gaze.

Flustered, you glanced away. “You tripped over yourself, causing both of us to bump into the wall. Well, mostly me, since I hit my head,” you recounted, your tone casual. “Then you started crying when you saw I was hurt, and you kept saying, ‘Why do I keep hurting you?’” You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in amusement.

San’s face shifted from incredulity to a flustered blush, the color flooding to his cheeks. He dropped your wrist, his shoulders tense as he turned away quickly, clearing his throat. The playful banter you had expected dimmed into a sudden seriousness, and confusion washed over you.

“What?” You nervously chuckled. You had expected laughter, maybe even some playful rebuttal, but instead, his sudden shift to seriousness left you frowning.

“It’s nothing” His lips tightened, and without another word, he hastily opened the front door and stepped inside, leaving you standing there, bewildered. You followed him into the house, feeling a sense of confusion from him like always.

———

Following closely behind San, you step into the dimly lit living room, where the flickering glow of the television casts elongated shadows across the walls. The boys are already engrossed in the horror movie, completely unaware of your presence.

In the corner of your eye, you spot Mingi, his form hunched over a pillow as he shields himself from the on-screen action. A smile spreads across your face, as you position yourself behind him. With a sudden burst of energy, you grab his shoulders and shout, “Boo!”

Mingi lets out a high-pitched scream that echoes through the room, nearly tumbling off the couch in his shock. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, caught off guard, join in with their own shrieks, creating a cacophony of startled yelps. Jongho and Yunho who were clearly unfazed, barely contain their laughter, while Hongjoong and Yeosang flinch, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion.

You can’t help but burst into laughter, the sound infectious as you reach out to Mingi, who is still wide-eyed, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and relief.

“Y/N!~” he whines, clutching his chest as if to calm his racing heart.

The rest of the boys are doubled over with laughter, their joy contagious. San rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile as he places the bags of snacks onto the coffee table.

“I’m sorry, Min! I didn’t think you’d actually get scared,” you manage between giggles, gently running your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him.

“Well, hello to you too, baby,” Wooyoung says with an exaggerated drawl, clutching his chest as if your scare had truly wounded him. A playful giggle escapes your lips as you glide around to his sitting figure, his dramatic flair only adding to the moment’s hilarity.

“I’m so sorry, Woo,” you reply, laughter bubbling up again as you lean down and wrap your arms around his neck in a warm embrace. He responds instantly, his arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer as he snuggles his face into your chest. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

Turning your attention, you notice Seonghwa watching you, a shy smile gracing his lips, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Did I scare you too, Hwa?” you ask, releasing Wooyoung’s hold and moving toward him. You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair, a gesture that always seems to ease any embarrassment he might feel.

“I was scared too,” Yunho pipes up, raising his hand as if he’s in a classroom, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

“Me too!” Yeosang chimes in, his big, doe-like eyes wide with mock innocence as he looks up at you, adding to the playful atmosphere.

You laugh at their playful banter, shaking your head in disbelief. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry for interrupting the movie,” you say, feigning seriousness as you gesture dramatically toward the screen. “Let’s get back to it!”

With a bright smile, you plop down between Mingi and Seonghwa, feeling the comfortable warmth of their presence. The room settles back into a cozy atmosphere, laughter still echoing softly as you all turn your attention to the flickering screen.

Your head nestled against Seonghwa’s shoulder, the warmth of his presence a steady comfort as you both sat engrossed in the flickering glow of the screen before you. The soft light illuminated your faces, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. A cozy blanket was draped over your legs, its fabric soft against your skin, partially overlapping with Seonghwa’s and Mingi’s.

Seonghwa's arm hung casually around your shoulders, his presence a protective anchor that made you feel at ease. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, a rhythmic reassurance in the quiet space. Meanwhile, Mingi sat on the other side, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

As the movie droned on, the initial thrill began to fade, replaced by an almost comical absurdity that made the horror elements feel more ridiculous than terrifying. The once-terrifying scenes now elicited only faint chuckles and eye rolls from you. You felt your attention slipping away, a dull ache of boredom creeping in.

With a slight huff, you shifted your position on the couch, gently lifting your head from Seonghwa’s shoulder. The warmth that had enveloped you receded slightly, but Seonghwa’s arm stayed firmly around you, a comforting presence that anchored you even as you sought a better angle to see the screen. You leaned back, glancing at him with a soft smile, but his focus remained on the movie, his brow slightly furrowed as if trying to will the story to become engaging again.

Mingi, sensing your shift, let his hand slide higher on your thigh, a subtle gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you. The light touch was both casual and deliberate, igniting a spark of electricity in the air between you. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, his eyes still glued to the screen, yet there was an unmistakable teasing glint in them that made your heart race.

You gazed around the room, the flickering glow of the television illuminated the faces of the boys. Some of them were completely absorbed, their eyes glued to the unfolding drama, while others started scrolling through their phones, just as equally bored of the movie.

You try to bring your focus back onto the screen, but it was difficult with the feeling of Mingi’s fingertips sliding gently against the soft fabric of your tights, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver coursing through your body. Your heart raced, and your breath hitched as you sensed a shift in Mingi's intentions. His pinky finger—light and teasing—traced a line just below your hip, hovering between casualness and something far more intimate. The sensation of his touch resonated through you, igniting a warmth that crept up your spine and spread through your entire being.

Seonghwa glanced at you, his gaze sharp and teasing, as he caught the flustered expression on your face, cheeks painted a deep crimson. A playful smirk crept across his lips as he detected Mingi’s hand moving persistently beneath the soft fabric of the blanket. Seonghwa’s eyes followed the trajectory of Mingi’s fingers, and he couldn’t help but study the way your body responded, the gentle rise and fall of your chest betraying the electric sensations coursing through you.

A wave of envy washed over him—the way Mingi seemed to effortlessly elicit such reactions from you. Unable to resist the urge to convey his own affection, Seonghwa shifted closer, his hand brushing against your shoulder. He let his fingers gently knead the delicate muscles there. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your temple before allowing his hand to drift down to the nape of your neck. His fingertips began to massage you, sending unexpected shivers racing through your body like wildfire.

Mingi, ever perceptive, caught the way you instinctively reacted to his touch. He could feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. Suddenly, you let out a soft gasp—a sound that cut through the ambient noise of the television—as Mingi’s fingers brushed against you again, teasing and exploring the warmth hidden beneath the blanket.

Both men exchanged looks, their eyes locking for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They shared a smirk, one that held the promise of continued teasing, before their gazes dropped back to you.

Your face was a striking shade of red, as if you were caught in a sunset, and you bit your bottom lip in an attempt to focus on the screen, fighting against the distractions pulling you under. Mingi leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, his deep voice low and teasing. You nodded shyly, refusing to turn your head to meet his gaze, a gesture that only fueled the fire of their amusement.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he observed your reaction.

“You sure, darling? You keep moving,” he teased, his voice vibrating through your core, making your blush deepen as you diverted your gaze down to your lap.

“Mm, I’m okay…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, desperate to avoid drawing attention from the others in the room.

“Okay…” they both echoed back, their voices a perfect duet.

They admired your side profile, the curve of your jaw, the flutter of your eyelashes, and, without a second thought, they leaned in closer. Their lips brushed against your cheeks at the same time, a tender, simultaneous gesture that sent your heart racing. Your eyes widened in surprise, your breath hitching at the unexpected contact. Heat flooded your entire face.

Seonghwa pulled away slightly, his chuckle a low rumble that vibrated in the air, a sound that only made you flush more. Mingi, with a devilish glint in his eye, peppered a few more playful kisses along your cheek and down towards your neck, each one igniting your skin with warmth before he finally turned his head back towards the screen. Seonghwa followed suit, his gaze returning to the flickering images in front of you, but not before stealing another glance at you, admiration written across his features.

Without noticing, the film reached its conclusion. The screen faded to black before the end credits began to roll, accompanied by a sudden, loud exhale from Jongho. As he stood up from the couch, a sweeping wave of disappointment washed over him. “What a dumb ass movie,” he declared, flicking the light switch on and flooding the room with dim illumination.

“I agree,” chimed in Yunho, stretching his arms above his head, his voice resonating with an air of relaxed camaraderie. “It was good for the first thirty minutes, but then it just started getting weird.”

You shifted on the couch, pushing yourself upright as you cleared your throat, feeling a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, a remnant of Seonghwa and Mingi’s earlier teasing. Their playful banter had left you flustered and disoriented.

“You okay, Y/N?” Yeosang asked, concern etched in his features as he turned his gaze to you. Your eyes widened at his inquiry, and a nervous laugh slipped from your lips. “Oh, yeah! I’m okay,” you replied, forcing a smile, hoping to mask the storm of emotions swirling within.

“You sure, baby? Your face is all red,” Yeosang observed, leaning in closer to get a better look at you. The softness of his tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Ah, I’m just thirsty,” you stammered, grasping at the excuse like a lifeline, desperate to sidestep the palpable tension that had been lingering between Seonghwa and Mingi and you.

As if sensing your unease, Yeosang rose from the couch, adopting the grace of a gentleman. “Let’s go get you some water,” he suggested, extending his hand toward you. You felt your cheeks heat even more as you reached out, taking his hand. A soft thrill coursed through you as warmth enveloped your skin.

As you stood, you felt Seonghwa's and Mingi's hands brush against you, a reminder of their earlier closeness, but you stepped away, allowing Yeosang to guide you toward the kitchen. The cool tiles beneath your feet contrasted with the heat still lingering in the air.

———

Yeosang moved purposefully, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before handing it to you.

“Thanks, Yeo,” you murmured, taking a few sips, the cool liquid refreshing against your lips. After handing the glass back to him, Yeosang smiled, and without a moment's pause, he finished the remainder, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Yeosang placed the empty glass on the counter behind you, ruffling your hair playfully as he moved closer. You suddenly found yourself against the sleek marble table, trapped in the warm orbit of his presence. “You still flustered from Mingi and Seonghwa kissing you?” he teased, his husky voice wrapping around you like an intoxicating melody. Your blush deepened, and you turned your head away, feeling exposed.

“You saw?” you asked softly, catching a glimpse of his playful yet serious expression.

“Oh baby, all of us saw,” Yeosang chuckled, tenderly pulling your chin back until your eyes met his. His hands slipped to your hips, thumbs drawing gentle circles on your skin. The intimate gesture ignited a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, and instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, finding comfort in his embrace.

“You know, I’d never thought you’d be this much of a teaser,” you remarked, your fingers finding their way into his hair, playing absentmindedly. “You’re such a gentleman, yet you tease so much” you add with a giggle.

He lowered his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked back up at you. “I’m only like this towards the people I really like.” The sincerity in his voice wrapped around your heart, and his hands traveled higher on your waist, his caresses sending electrifying tingles through you.

“So, are there other girls that get to see this side of you?” you pretended to pout, a playful challenge that earned a bright smile from him.

“No, no. You’re the only girl that gets to see this side of me. I was just talking about the guys… my family. I’m more comfortable with you all, and I can be myself,” Yeosang continued, his gaze scanning your face before lingering on your soft lips.

“I’m glad I can be one of those people, then,” you whispered softly, feeling an undeniable connection with him.

“May I?” Yeosang asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you nodded in response. And before you could fully process what was happening, his warm, soft lips were pressed against yours. The kiss was tender yet deep, an exquisite blend of passion and sweet affection. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were crafting a work of art, and you felt yourself melting into him, intoxicated by the moment.

When he finally pulled away, you whimpered softly, reluctant to break the blissful intimacy. Yeosang chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, before planting gentle kisses along your cheek. He trailed down to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you as you surrendered to the sensation of his warm breath and soft kisses.

“Y-Yeo…” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered to the pleasure coursing through you. He continued to explore your skin, moving from your neck to your collarbone, his touch igniting your senses.

“Damn Yeo, are you trying to devour her?” The teasing voice of Jongho interrupted the sacred moment. You gasped, turning your head to see him standing in the doorframe with a smug smirk.

“Fuck off,” Yeosang muttered against your skin, refusing to let his lips leave you even for a moment.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Jongho ventured further into the kitchen, a mischievous smile on his face as he approached you. “You enjoying this, pretty?” he asked softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, sending currents of warmth spiraling through you. You nodded, unable to form words, your breath hitching in your throat. The sound of chuckles vibrated around you from both boys—Jongho’s and Yeosang’s—as Yeosang’s lips continued their descent lower.

Jongho cupped your cheek, tilting your face toward him before pressing his own soft lips against your forehead. His kisses trailed down your skin, lingering on your cheek before finally finding your lips, weaving a tender yet fervent kiss that made your heart race.

As desire swelled within you, you whimpered into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensations wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The knowledge of what you had signed up for in this polyamorous relationship danced in the corner of your mind, but nothing could prepare you for the heady rush of being kissed by two of your boyfriends simultaneously.

Yeosang shifted slightly, giving Jongho room to deepen the kiss. His hands found their way around your back, holding you close, anchoring you in the moment.

“O-oh God,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all as Yeosang smiled against your skin, playfully biting you.

“Alright, enough, you two” A new voice broke through the haze, and you turned to see Hongjoong grinning at the scene before him, his smirk playful yet admonishing. “Let Y/N breathe,” he added, stepping forward to pull Yeosang and Jongho off you gently.

Both Jongho and Yeosang exhaled in exaggerated sighs, their lips glossy and flushed like yours, a mirrored reflection of the intoxicating atmosphere you’d been engulfed in moments before.

“Fuck, if you wanted a taste, you could’ve just joined us,” Jongho joked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he caught Hongjoong’s gaze. Yeosang chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in your flushed face, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotion.

“For you two being the most quiet members, you’re so perverted,” Hongjoong laughed, rolling his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. He reached for your hand, a soft smile brightening his features. “Come on, let’s go. I want to show you something.”

Despite the heat still radiating in your cheeks from the flustered makeout session, you managed to nod softly, curiosity replacing the dizzying warmth in your chest as Hongjoong pulled you out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of lingering whispers and shared glances behind you.

———

Hongjoong's hand slipped into yours as he led you up the staircase, a warmth spreading between your fingers. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the narrow hallway, painting everything in a cozy light. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, wondering what he had planned. Suddenly, Hongjoong turned to you, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, curious yet hesitant.

He leaned closer, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug, pulling you snugly against him. “Hm, nothing much,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I just wanted you to myself.” As he buried his face into the crook of your neck, you could feel the warmth radiating off him, mingling with your own. Laughter bubbled up from within you as you pressed against him, enjoying the closeness.

“I don’t like sharing,” Hongjoong mumbled into your skin, his breath tickling you. You pulled back slightly, confusion etching across your face as you searched his gaze.

“Joong… what do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows in curiosity.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek, a calmness washing over you. “Not like that, baby,” he assured you, his voice a low murmur. “I just meant that I want us to be alone when it comes to being more intimate”

You tilted your head, pondering his words. “But you always hug and give me kisses in front of everyone?” you pointed out, slightly baffled.

“Yeah, I know…” He leaned in ever so closer, his warm breath washing over your face as he spoke. “…but those are quick hugs and quick kisses.” His voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and charged. “This time… I want to take my time.”

With each word, his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours, barely brushing against your skin. A hitch caught in your throat at his teasing. His nose nudged playfully against yours, leaving you yearning for more. The anticipation made you whine softly, a plea for him to deepen the connection.

“Joong, don’t tease me,” you whispered, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks at the thought of everyone’s earlier teasing. “Everyone has been at it today…” The complaint tumbled from your lips, desperate for his touch.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Hongjoong chuckled, pulling away with a sheepish grin. "But on a serious note, there’s something I want to show you."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it?"

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up with a spark of excitement as he gestured toward his desk. He stood, walking around to your side and guiding you gently to the cushioned chair in front of his computer. "Sit here," he said softly, his voice warm as he pulled the chair closer to the screen, making sure you were comfortable.

He hovered for a moment behind you, his arm gently resting across your shoulders as he reached for the mouse. You could feel the weight of his touch, warm and reassuring, as he moved the cursor across the screen with careful precision.

"Do you remember that song I was working on in the library?" he asked, his voice filled with an almost shy anticipation.

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes briefly flicking from his face to the screen before responding. "Yeah, I remember."

Hongjoong smiled, a soft, almost secretive curve of his lips that made your heart flutter. "I finished it," he murmured, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before he clicked open a file. "I want you to listen to it."

He grabbed a pair of headphones from the side of the desk and gently placed them over your ears. His hands lingered there for just a moment, his fingers brushing your skin so lightly it almost felt like a whisper. You tried not to think too much about it as he clicked the spacebar to play the track.

The soft hum of music filled your ears, and immediately, your body relaxed into the melody. The beat was gentle, the lyrics intimate, drawing you in with every note. Your heart seemed to sync with the rhythm, beating in time with the music. There was something about the song—something in the way it made you feel like the world had momentarily slowed down, like you were wrapped in the warmth of his sound. The lyrics spoke of love, of longing, of dreams and promises, and as the final verse came to a close, you felt a lump in your throat.

When the song ended, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You pulled the headphones from your ears, turning toward Hongjoong with a bright, genuine smile.

He was looking at you nervously, his lips pressed into a tight line, waiting for your reaction. "How was it?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability as he took the headphones from your hands and set them on the desk.

You didn’t hesitate. "Joong, it’s beautiful. I love it so much," you said, your voice thick with sincerity, as your heart swelled with emotion. "It’s incredible."

Hongjoong let out a small, nervous laugh, his cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. "You can be honest, Y/N. If you didn’t like it, it’s okay."

You shook your head, leaning forward a bit. "Hongjoong, I’m serious! This song is so good! I need it on my phone—like, right now," you said with a playful giggle, reaching out for his hands, desperate to hold onto some piece of him, some connection to the music that felt like it had touched your soul.

Hongjoong’s smile softened, and he reached for your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours. "I’m submitting this for my final project," he said, his voice now a little quieter, tinged with something deeper. He looked at you, his gaze both tender and earnest. "And I just wanted to tell you... thank you."

You blinked, confused. "Why are you thanking me?" you asked, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of the moment.

Hongjoong’s smile grew even more gentle, and he leaned in slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "You helped me finish it. You’re my muse." His words hung in the air, simple yet profound, and your heart skipped a beat.

You felt your cheeks warm, a flush creeping across your face as his words settled into your chest. "Hongjoong..." you whispered, the weight of his sentiment making you feel both overwhelmed and cherished all at once.

Without thinking, you stood up from the chair, your legs suddenly feeling unsteady as the emotions swirled inside you. You stepped toward him, closing the gap between you, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace. The scent of him—a mix of clean cologne and something distinctly him—filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"What did I do to deserve you guys?" you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of awe and gratitude.

Hongjoong’s arms immediately encircled your waist, pulling you closer, his body warm and solid against yours. His grip was firm, as though he never wanted to let go. You both stood there for a long moment, the world outside the room fading away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the space you shared.

You rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you looked down toward his lips.

“Kiss me,” you whispered out, longing for his touch. He smirked, the mischievous gleam in his eyes igniting a flame deep inside you, as he finally devoured your lips.

The connection was electric—soft yet maddeningly intense. The room filled with the wet sounds of your lips moving in a passionate dance, your breaths melding together in the heat of the moment. Hongjoong’s hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, as your own arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

You stumbled backward, your legs brushing against the soft edge of his bed, collapsing onto the plush mattress with a soft 'thud.'

“Fuck, Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured against your lips, eyes glazed with desire. You responded instinctively, deepening the kiss, refusing to let go. His knees pressed against your waist, pinning you down as the two of you continued your heated exploration of each other's mouths.

“Baby, wait—” Hongjoong panted, caught off guard as your kisses trailed from his lips to his cheek and down his jawline. You ignored him, your lips marking their path towards his neck—inviting and tempting.

“Y/N…” His voice was a strained whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his control slipping as he groaned, quickly catching your wrists and pinning them above your head. The confusion in your gaze made him gulp.

“I said wait, darling.” His voice was softer now, leaning down to place a gentle peck on your lips. “Let’s not move too fast…” The sincerity in his gaze made your heart flutter, but you felt the throbbing heat of desire coursing through your veins.

“No… it’s okay, Joong… I want to,” you replied softly, uncertainty mingling with determination as you pouted.

“Fuck, baby, I know. So do I.” He sighed, the weight of the moment evident in his expression. He released your wrists, his hands resting on the mattress beside you as he tried to collect himself.

“Then let’s do it…” you whispered, leaning closer. The raw yearning in your voice hung heavily in the air.

“We can’t, baby… not yet,” he hissed, shifting away from you. Panic surged deep within, and you sat up, the distance between you feeling unbearable.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely breaking the silence. Hongjoong gazed at you, concern etched across his handsome face, as he cupped your cheeks—his caress gentle and reassuring.

“I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to sleep with you. As much as you may think I’m not, it’s just as important for me. I— We, want to show you that we really care for you.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his affection creating a comforting bubble around you. “The boys and I agreed to not do anything just yet, okay baby?”

His genuine honesty struck a chord in your heart, the ache of warmth spreading through you. You nodded, a soft smile emerging despite the lament of pent-up desire.

“Okay…” you said softly, and Hongjoong smiled back, capturing your lips once again in a gentle kiss, his hands finding their way to your lap.

Then, without meaning to, his fingers brushed against the fabric of your tights, and an immediate awareness rushed over him. The dampness beneath his fingertips sent shockwaves through your system. He paused, pulling back to assess you, his eyes widening with realization.

“Fuck, you got that wet just from kissing?” His voice was thick with surprise, as his fingers tapped against the moist fabric, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

“Joong~,” you gasped, embarrassment flooding you. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Remind me, who kissed you tonight?” Hongjoong began drawing lazy patterns against the damp patch, teasing you relentlessly. Your tongue felt tied with embarrassment, and you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“Tell me, baby,” he whispered, the smirk on his lips telling you he wasn’t letting you off the hook.

“Mingi… Hwa… Jongho… and Yeo…” you whimpered, the confession rolling off your tongue. The teasing darkness in his eyes flared with satisfaction.

“And?” he pressed, his lips ghosting over yours.

“And you…” you admitted, your voice barely a breath.

“I can’t leave you all pent up like this, huh, baby?” Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and sultry, teasing with intent.

“Wouldn’t be very good of me as your boyfriend, now would it?” he continued, playful yet serious.

“I thought you said we can’t do it…” you whimpered, the confusion heating your cheeks even more.

“Yeah… but the boys and I only agreed to actual intercourse.” His lips found your neck, planting soft kisses that sent tingling shivers down your spine. “Never said anything about touching you… with my fingers.”

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Want me to touch you, darling?”

Your heart raced at the tenderness in his voice as you felt the thrill of anticipation rush through you. “Y-yes, please,” you breathed, tilting your neck instinctively to give him more access. You could barely contain the yearning, the desperate need building inside you, and as his fingers danced along the fabric of your clothing, you knew this night was far from over.

end of chapter 5….

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Author’s note: FINALLY! I know I’m sorry for the super long wait 🥲. I was so busy this past month! Anyways I hope you all like this chapter😝✋. Chapter 6 will be out soon!

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[rainynightmoonlight]

GXHDJSJSJS I JUST READ YOUR FIC ABOUT THE MERMAN CUTIE AND OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVE RANEE (I THINK THAT"S HOW YOU SPELL THAT) HE'S JUST PERFECT😭😭😭

ANYWAYSSS, so i was thinking... what he do if reader suddenly stopped coming to kayak, because they got sick? How would he react when they finally started coming back again?

Love your works btw😉💋💖💖

Where's my Human? || Yandere Merman x Gn Kayaker Reader

Characters: Ranee

Summary: He gets so worried when you're not there to kayak

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence, stalking

A/n: Yeah that's how you spell it, I'm so happy you love him nonnie! He's my special merboy! And thank you! Also, mention of Malakai

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Let's be real, Ranee has no concept of sickness or injuries. Fin rot is the closest thing he knows, and it's only common within pet fish. There are parasites and other ocean germs, but nothing like human sickness. So if you stop showing up for a while brings up so much concern. He straight up thinks you're dead. Though it takes a bit of build up for him to actually think of that conclusion.

The first day you don't show up to the beach, he just thinks you got busy. You usually don't come to kayak every day. That's something you told him when he freaked out the first time you didn't show up. Something about sore muscles. He was too focused on you when you told him so he didn't listen.

The second day is when he becomes a bit panicked. This is the stage where he starts swimming the coastline and asking other sea creatures that swim the coast about you. When they say they haven't seen you that's when his brain starts to spiral. Ranee just swims up and down the coastline for the next couple of days, watching the beaches for any sign of you in case you moved and forgot to tell him.

Then a thought comes to his mind, much to his distaste. Ranee thought and contemplated on visiting your human friend. One reason he was against it was because your human friend was trying to take you away from him. Didn't this human know that you were his mate? Beside the point, he didn't have you to guide him out once he swims in, and he's so easily lost.

After grumbling and pacing around in his sea cave to the nearest fish who have no clue what is going on, he decides to visit your human friend. He managed to remember the way there, you better praise him if you ever come back.

He groans as he sees your human friend on his dock of his very shiny home. Malakai prepares himself for any mischief Ranee has brought today but is caught of guard by the merman talking using the limited language he has. Malakai eventually catches your name in the merman's garbled up human speak and barely catches on.

“Oh, you mean Y/n? Yeah, they're sick right now. Texted me they won't be by the docks for a few days.”

Thus leads into Malakai trying to explain what sickness is to the very confused Ranee. After a few hours of body anatomy lessons Ranee comes to the conclusion that you are in fact dying. So the merman is trying to find any way to your home only to realize you don't live near any body of water.

A few more days of your absence leaves Ranee all mopy. Just invite him to your funeral okay? He couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least part with you properly. He's slumped over on a rock, holding the things he had taken from you. He peppered each in tiny kisses. Oh, gods please hear him and give your soul back to him. That's the leas they could do for torturing you like this!

All the fish that came past his cave would swim in and nibble on his skin. Sea lions and seals alike would come in to push him out of the cave. Ranee didn't want to come out to play like he usually does. Not without you!

His life is so meaningless without you. The seals were barking at him to come out of his cave until a ray had swam over. His mopy attitude switches when he gets news from the ray that it saw you back on your kayak and was paddling out in the open. Ranee is completely overjoyed that you were back.

Swimming as fast as his fins could take him, Ranee jumps out like a dolphin and tackles you into the water. You're startled and thrashing but Ranee's cold, scaly face calms you down. You can only chuckle at the merman's clingyness.

“You don't have to almost drown me if you want my attention every time, Ranee.”

He shakes his head as his tail coils around your legs. You shiver as you're pulled closer to his cold body. No way is he letting go. You worried the hell out of him! Making him think you were dead. Bad mate! He only hits the top of your head, scolding you in grumbles.

“Never allowed, fish sticks and fries.”

You were practically an expert in Ranee talk at this point. You came to understand that he was demanding you to stay and never leave him again for that long. As much as you wanted to comply with such a request, you were going to get sick again if you didn't get out of this cold water.

Begrudgingly did Ranee help you back onto your kayak and pushes you back to shore. When you're drying off on the dock, you tell him what happen and give him a better explanation of what happened.

You're now stuck on that dock, listening to Ranee talk about what he had done while you were gone. He gurgles at your praises when he told you he swam through the harbor all by himself.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[imfoive]

Crystal Bird - Chapter 10

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of war, assassination, somewhat proofread WC: 8.7k A/N: I debated breaking the chapter into another chapter but it would have left everyone frustrated lmaoo so this chapter is on the longer end!(although you won’t be any less frustrated anyways) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

CHAPTER 10 ───────────────────

The Sylvancrest Prince had met all kinds of people during his travels, friendly merchants, citizens from neighboring realms, some questionable, but all in all, good people. Even back in the Eastern Sea nation, he was always greeted with warmth. Always garnered attention as the youngest of princes.

Yet, surprisingly, the fourth prince had never really had any true friends of his own.

His brothers had always had their own responsibilities, and although they doted on him, they never quite found the time to entertain him for long. Other kids his age played with him, but they always made him feel the heavy weight of the prince title he carried.

His guard, Seungmin, who was close to his age, was almost the exact opposite in personality.

Quiet, dutiful, and frigid. Although Hyunjin had managed to get Seungmin to crack here and there, even drawing out small moments of mischief and fun, there was always a line the guard never crossed. Much like those playmates of his.

And it was this Foreign princess, who made him understand, for the first time, what it meant to have something like a true friend. Someone to share cheerful banter, long conversations with. About all kinds of things that piqued their curiosity. Unbiased, free. 

Someone who focused on him, on whatever he rambled about, with an enthusiasm that matched his own. Similar rambles slipped from her lips, and her eyes radiated with the ambition to see the world, to learn more.

Even if they hadn’t known each other as long as they felt like they did, it was clear that the two were alike, that their friendship was something that was unguarded, comfortable. They had even promised to keep in touch after his return, exchanging letters filled with thoughts and discoveries, things he was certain she would enjoy reading.

He had never exchanged letters with a friend before, never received anything of the sort himself. The idea of it excited him, in a way he hadn’t expected. Prominent in his glowing expressions that expressed his feelings easily.

But after the events over the past few days, Hyunjin began to notice something different. His friend’s smile no longer reached her eyes. Her mind seemed elsewhere, her presence across from him, but her thoughts clearly distant.

Then he remembered the Elysium King’s offer. The ridiculous proposition he still couldn’t fully grasp. 

Hyunjin’s gaze lingered on the second princess. She attempted to smile as she dismissed her “slight fever,” but the weariness in her expression was unmistakable. 

It was clear to him that she wasn’t happy here. Perhaps she never had been, and likely never would be.

In a kingdom where being the daughter of the king’s mistress, a lower-princess, earned you nothing but scorn, where arrows and bitter glances followed, true happiness was a distant dream for someone like her.

Hyunjin didn’t have any particular romantic feelings for his new friend, at least not yet. But he believed they could get along just fine. He believed he could make her happy. Perhaps she could join him in his travels, explore new lands, chasing that ambitious curiosity of hers through new experiences. The kind she’s only read about.

Hyunjin didn’t think he would propose such a thing today. To offer her an escape from this place. He knew well that a princess like her could only leave through marriage. If necessary, he would offer her that. 

He would marry her, if it meant she could have the freedom she deserved.

He would be a good friend. 

He was being good friend. But as the offer laid out bare, his words easily slipping through his lips, he caught the frantic twinge that flashed in her eyes.

A similar gaze he had seen just the day prior in someone else.

Someone who stood stoic, piercing gaze boring into his amidst the dense foliage of The Grand Forest.

Hyunjin sighed, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he chuckled, the familiar sound breaking the tension that had settled in the air.

   “It’s too bad.” His words had come out casually, not even a hint disappointed, gaze never leaving her now, taken aback by his sudden shift. 

The Second Princess stared at him in wonder.

It seemed as though he’d rescinded his proposal just as quickly as he had offered it.

Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, relaxing against the cushion of his chair.

Princess Y/N opened her mouth, her next words lodged in her throat.

Did she acknowledge his roundabout proposal? Replying with an answer they both knew? 

Or perhaps apologize for rejecting him without even considering?

Instead, Y/N gave a slight smile, tilting her head as she spoke.

   “Do write to me about the lakes, Hyunjin.”

The informal words, the title-less address, made Hyunjin’s grin widen. Their friendship seemingly deepened with a simple rejection.

A comfortable silence settled between them. 

Princess Y/N reached over to place his novel back where she had taken it from. He sipped his tea, before suddenly placing it back down with a clatter, as if some idea just flashed through his mind. Already moving onto the next topic.

   “I might take a detour instead. Perhaps explore some more before my father tries to tie me down with responsibilities.” He groaned at the thought.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, confused. 

   “A detour?” She questioned with a repeat. 

Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically.

   “Yes, maybe head up North—I’ve only seen snow once as a child, what a fascinating sight it was.” He almost rambled, his eyes lighting up.

   “Snow?” Y/N’s eyes widened with its own excitement, her interest piqued. 

The idea of seeing something she had only read about in books sparked a new fascination. Trying to imagine the white expanse of the soft snow covered ground.

   “I’ve never seen snow. Is it really that cold?” Her words were laced with new curiousity, one that made the foreign prince chuckle as he shook his head.

   “I can tell you all about the Sylvancrest lakes Y/N, but I’m no expert on the Northern Snow. Maybe one day, you’ll visit that place instead.”

His words lingered between them, and Y/N’s smile faltered. Her gaze slowly drifted to the biscuits between them, her thoughts slipping back to the expert of the Northern Snow.

The White Mountains where he had been, were filled with snowy terrains. It must have been greuling.

He must have been cold. Must have fallen sick countless times.

Her heart ached suddenly, and she couldn’t help but curse herself for so many of her wrong choices.

But Y/N knew she was going to continue to make these wrong choices.

Continue to push away the Crown Prince of Nightshade.

A love so tragic she would rather keep him in the dark than let him be kept away from her.

And as Y/N stood on her balcony that evening, staring out into the dark night, she couldn’t help but be drawn back to thoughts about Chan, couldn’t help but think about him again.

It was always like this.

Where once she would gleefully read her love stories, picturing a mysterious man, someone handsome, someone who was madly in love with her. Someone who was her Chan. 

Now as she pictured him, handsome, perhaps in love with her.

She couldn’t be giddy. Couldn’t let those emotions that made her cheeks twinge with pink and red, her skin burn with heat, warm and fuzzy, take over.

Chan was no longer hers.

Chan had a face. A handsome man, grown into all the things Y/N had once fantasized. Chan was real.

To the touch, to the kiss.

But Chan wasn’t hers. Chan was the Crown Prince. 

Prince Christopher, who loved the girl that had once saved him, because he must.

And even if deep down she knew it was pathetic to draw such a conclusion, she decided it was true. For her own sake.

Y/N had dwelled on it. Her mind spun with thoughts that never seemed to settle.

Thinking. Deciding. Doubting.

Over and over again.

She thought back to when she had lied to him. The hidden truth, nothing near a little white lie she had tried so hard to convince herself it was. Aware deep down that it was a cruel one. 

That her denial of being that princess that once saved an enemy prince, befriended, made promises, was the right thing to do.

The lie that had taken life from her lack of confidence, her self-doubts, snowballed into something she couldn’t control.

Then, it hit her. A realization that should have come to her long ago. One that lingered deep in her chest, spilling out with every encounter. A realization waiting to be made.

Her heart clenched painfully as she finally made a clear-headed decision, as the weight of it all sank in. 

Y/N didn’t deserve any of it.

His friendship. His loyalty. His lingering gazes, dimpled smiles.

His love.

She had trampled on his hopes. Her lies twisted so deeply, that she was certain he would hate her once he found out. 

The truth of how she had toyed with his heart. How she was going to continue to hurt him. He should hate her.

It was the right decision. She had to believe it. 

The fairytale stories she had once dreamed of belonged in novels, not in her life. They were things she should never have expected, let alone hoped for.

Could she really have expected anything else?

He was the Crown Prince of an enemy nation. One her family was preparing to assassinate. To go to battle against. Starting a war that they would perhaps lose.

Maybe she would perish along. 

Y/N thought back. Thought of Chan. 

Chan who wasn’t hers. Who belonged to his nation, his title, his crown.

Prince Christopher who belonged to his people.

Their friendship had been doomed from the moment she’d pulled him from that river, from the moment she had wandered back into the forest the day after.

Tears slid easily down her face, pooling at her jaw as she stared into the dark, moonlit night. She struggled to convince herself that this decision, this painful separation, was the right one.

He should return. But he should never know the truth. He should believe that Sienna wasn’t the one he should love. 

That the princess he sought, no longer existed. 

He’ll be hurt, he'll suffer a bit. Saying goodbye to a promise that he failed to keep, a reunion that would never happen. 

But he’ll be fine.

There was going to be nothing tying him to back Elysium. Nothing tying him to her. 

He would protect his nation, his people, like he should as the Crown Prince.

And even if she perished somewhere along the way, his thoughts won’t dwell on it.

His heart shouldn’t ache, he shouldn’t be in pain.

The sobs were impossible to control, her face contorting as she cried, palms pressing against her lips to muffle the sounds.

She longed to see him. To hold him, just one last time before she let him go forever. But she knew she couldn’t. If she did, the resolve she had fought so hard to build would shatter in an instant. 

All Y/N wanted, all she needed, was for him to return.

Safely. And she would make sure that happened.

────────────────────────

The preparations for Elysium’s Royal wedding had begun. 

The Crown Prince of the nation was finally to wed his fiancee. A daughter of a powerful noble. The eldest daughter of a Duke, one that had been picked out ever since they were children. 

The banquets, the dinners, the revelry that had started off these celebrations had all been leading up to this union and the ceremonies that followed. One that seemed to be dragging on for weeks, and finally the end was nearing.

It was supposedly a grand occasion, one which the whole kingdom was to look forward to. 

But as Y/N made her way through the town square, her well-kept appearance and the knight who trailed closely behind her made her rank clear. 

A high-society noble, perhaps even royalty. 

And with that, she immediately caught the wary glances of the townspeople. It had been months since she’d been allowed to walk freely through the market, and though her lavish appearance had attracted attention before, this time it was different. The locals seemed to regard her with a quiet…distaste, as if her presence here was an unwelcome reminder of something they resented.

Just as Anna had mentioned, Princess Y/N was witnessing it firsthand. The disdain the people held for the nobles and the royal family was evident in every glance they shot her way. It seemed to grow stronger with each passing day the King failed to address the suffering caused by the Fading Ill and the misfortunes that had befallen the poor. The weight of these frustrations was clear in the eyes that peered over in her direction.

She couldn’t blame them. 

The slum dwellers, the poor. The lower class, and the everyday merchants. They were fed up with a King who seemed to care only for the upperclass. The celebrations felt drawn out, flaunting wealth while the people suffered. The cold season was approaching, and the Fading Ill disease continued to spread, yet the King had done nothing. 

No words of comfort, no aid sent to those in need. No search for a cure.

From the outside the kingdom seemed to be harmonious, coming together to celebrate the royal union. Yet, the contrast between the royal festivities and the people’s struggles was impossible to ignore once you got a closer look.

Y/N had ravaged the Nightshade Books she could find on sickness, cures, poisons, that the Elysium library carried, yet still there wasn’t much she could find. Perhaps, if she could slip into a herbal shop or medical tent, she might learn more about this sickness from someone who had treated patients firsthand.

The Second Princess watched the dressmaker, giving orders to her seamstresses to pack the fabrics that had been pre-approved months ago. She glanced around at the maids who accompanied her, each carrying boxes of trinkets and accessories the future Princess consort had also chosen, now ready for pickup.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers fidgeting with her own rings. Her eyes traced the intricate fabric of the dress she wore. Symbols of the wealth and high status the townspeople likely saw her as. But in that moment, she felt more like a well-dressed errand girl.

Perhaps the Queen Mother took some twisted pleasure in assigning Y/N these menial tasks. Maybe she relished the fury that coursed through Lady Katherine whenever the mistress learned of the discrimination, often taking it out on Y/N. As if the daughter had any choice but to bow her head and follow orders.

Their return from Melgarde had emboldened her mother, making Y/N wonder how the older woman would react once she lost this small sliver of importance, the fleeting power she would lose after Ian's wedding. 

Once everything returned to its original order. 

Once Y/N returned to being nothing but the forgotten princess.

But for now, she had been left to manage these kinds of responsibilities while Sienna entertained the new guests arriving as the wedding day approached.

She should have felt envious, felt that sting of injustice whenever she had to take on Sienna’s workload, when she was given such lowly tasks, handling duties a “princess” like herself should never have to do. 

Yet, oddly, she felt a sense of relief. 

The chaos of the preparations offered an escape from the ever-watchful gaze of Chan. His piercing stare, always following her whenever their paths crossed, hadn't gone unnoticed. Especially after the other night. The ghost of his lips working against hers, still tingled whenever she recalled it.

But she was too afraid to do anything more than offer a quick curtsy as she passed him, her expression hardening as she clung to that new mask she decided she would wear.

After the carriage was loaded with trunks filled with new dresses and jewelry, the long line of seamstresses, along with the head-dress maker, all gathered to bid her farewell. Their presence drew attention, but it was the Princess' knight who seemed to feel the weight of it. He glanced around warily, acutely aware of the tension in the air.

   “I shall visit a herbalist.” Y/N's sudden declaration caught the young knight off guard. 

His head snapped back, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he quickly regained his composure.

   “But Princess—”

   “It won’t take long.” She muttered curtly, turning to dismiss the dressmaker and her entourage, urging them to return to their shop.

The knight’s attempt to intervene irked her more than she cared to admit. She had wandered through the town square countless times, unaccompanied except for a maid or two trailing behind her. 

Who was he to stop her now?

Suddenly, her thoughts flashed back to the other night. The night she returned after her… rendezvous with the Nightshade Prince. At least, that was how it had felt.

After recovering from her fever, Y/N had reflected on how easily she slipped back into her chambers, unnoticed. She remembered the knight. How he'd been slumped on the ground, clearly passed out. It was almost effortless for her to sneak in and out during the dead of night while he slept, yet he still had the audacity to claim he was guarding her.

The Second Princess had seen that glint in his eyes before. The same look she often received from the attendants and ladies-in-waiting at the Queen’s palace.

That condescending look. The gazes of being looked down upon.

Of course he would, he was one of the Queen’s people after all. Assigned to her back in Melgarde Estate by aides from the Queen’s palace themselves, when it was decided that she would play a role in this fake harmonious family picture the royals attempted to paint. Although, that had been smeared long ago with the whispers of the arrow incident that still lingered throughout palace grounds.

She felt the stares as she walked down the market path, the knight trudging silently behind her. People stepped aside as she drew near. Y/N should have felt offended by the clear disdain in their gazes as they glanced back at her, but she didn’t. She was used to such scornful looks. In fact, she found herself more curious than bothered. 

How far had the neglect from their ruler gone that they couldn't even tolerate the presence of a high-society lady among them?

Her gaze shifted to the small herbal shop ahead. Her eyes raked over the exterior before she turned to her knight.

   “Stand guard here. No need to follow inside.” She ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. 

Before the young knight could respond, she was already moving toward the door.

The medicinal scent of herbs filled the air, hitting her with a waft as soon as she entered, mixing with the faint hum of quiet voices.

The shop was small, its interior racked with shelves of dried plants, hanging shrubs, and jars filled with liquids. Behind the counter, was a curtained doorway, likely led to the herbalist’s backroom, where he concocted his remedies.

Some women lingered near the counter, their eyes instantly darting toward Y/N at the sight of her, their surprise evident on their faces. The Second Princess offered a quick, polite smile, bowing her head in greeting. The women exchanged a brief glance before returning the gesture. 

It was clear from their bewildered expressions that noblewomen rarely acknowledged people of their status.

Suddenly, the small curtain behind the counter was pulled back with a whoosh, and the herbalist appeared. He faltered mid-step as his gaze fell upon Y/N. A lady of high rank, no doubt. He cleared his throat, pushing up his glasses before addressing the two women.

   “—Apply this twice a day, and it should reduce the itch. Try not to get the infected area wet.” He instructed, in the midst of a diagnosis it seemed. 

After the women handed over their coins, they shared another cautious glance at the Princess before quickly exiting, leaving only Y/N and the herbalist. The older man, who seemed to also be the shopkeeper, settled his gaze on the out-of-place young lady.

   “How may I assist you, Miss.” He asked, his tone neutral.

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to approach her questions. She had no idea what symptoms were tied to the disease supposedly spreading in the slums, spreading into the outskirts of town. Instead, she glanced around the shop, her eyes darting over shelves, baskets of herbs, and jars of syrups. Her thoughts wander back to that one passage in the last Nightshade book she read.

   “What is a common poison?” The question was blurted out before she could think better of it, blinking back at the older man who was as stunned as she.

The herbalist’s gaze slowly narrowed as he scrutinized her. He took in her high rank once more before the Second Princess cleared her throat, taking a step closer toward the counter, standing straight as if to not appear nervous.

   “I-I’m writing a story.” She attempted to add.

It wasn’t the most believable excuse, but it was enough to make him sigh, his wary gaze softening slightly as he pieced together his own conclusions.

Noblewomen asking about poisons wasn’t unheard of. Some used them for beauty, others for darker purposes. Poisoning, murdering, common enough in the shadows of the world of nobility, especially during inheritance conflicts or out of jealousy.

And the shopkeeper had taken one glance at Y/N and easily assumed so. Although usually, he was dealing with their personal maids rather than the noblewomen themselves.

But who was he to judge? A humble herbal shop keeper who made big coins when dealing with such individuals, one who never wanted to get on the bad side of nobility.

It was unfortunate, but a young lady like her turning to poison wasn’t the most surprising thing he had encountered.

With a final shake of his head, he disappeared behind the curtain to the backroom. She watched, eyes laced with curiosity, fidgeting with her gloves. After a few moments, the herbalist returned, glasses pushed up again.

On the counter, he set down a vial containing what looked like a simple dried plant, a few dried berries. Perhaps even just a small stem, preserved in the thin glass tube.

   “It’s the most common, but a potent poison.” His words were curt, yet still made Y/N flinch, never really thinking about poisons, let alone seeing one.

   “Deadly Nightshade.” He continued, the name of it made her heart skip a beat, her gaze snapping up to meet his. 

However he seemed unphased, continuing to speak as if it was a script memorized. But still, the Princess noticed how his tone had dropped to something quieter, almost... cautious.

   “You can grind it to powder. You can cook it into food. Or ingest it just as. The berries, are the most toxic.” He whispered, lowering his voice even more.

Y/N only stared, her eyes blinking at the thing that looked like any common shrubbery she had seen.

The name of it instantly made her think of the Nightshade Kingdom, of the Nightshade Crown Prince. The man who drifted through her memories, his touches burning on her skin like poison itself.

   “I-I’ll take it.” She found herself muttering, her fingers raking under her robed hood to pull out her pouch of coins.

   “—But you shall also tell me more about the Fading Ill sickness.” 

The pouch, fat and full, had clanked against the counter, making the shopkeeper blink almost bewildered anew, by both her question and her actions.

   “Fading Ill?” The repeated words fell through his lips as he eyed the pouch of coins.

   “It’s a spreading disease.” His obvious information made Y/N mentally groan almost, brows furrowing as she leaned in.

   “Of course I know that. What are the symptoms?” She pressed, forgetting all about her nervous fidgeting amidst her thirst for answers.

The herbalist fell silent for a speck of a moment before he let out a chuckle, head shaking.

   “Do you?” He raised a brow, watching as Y/N’s taken aback expression looked back at him.

   “The high-ranking nobles have stayed ignorant of the lower classes’ troubles.” He continued, the edge of cynicism in his voice. 

The older man reached for the pouch of coins, taking a glimpse inside to ensure the amount vaguely as he spoke.

   “The symptoms start pretty mild, like a common cold. But once it holds, there’s persistent fatigue, a faint but unsettling cough, and strange, fleeting visions.” He looked up to Y/N, watching the young noblewoman absorb his words.

   “There’s coughing of blood and the patient begins withering from the inside.”

The herbalist watched her eyes widen at the implications of death. Those unfortunate souls who couldn’t fight the illness, didn’t have the means to cure themselves, had simply begun fading away, succumbing to the disease. 

He sighed, his hand tapping against the wooden counter, signaling the end of these kinds of talk. The rhythmic sound pulled her back from her thoughts.

   “They’ve ignored the cries for help. The diseases that run rampant. It’s surprising to see a young noble lady asking questions about it.”

His words echoed everything Y/N had encountered. Whatever Anna had recounted, whatever she had seen and felt ever since she stepped into town.

   “You don’t intend to ingest this poison in attempts to cure the sickness do you?” The herbalist’s tone turned incredulous again, his eyes darting between the Princess and the vial.

She immediately shook her head, getting rid of his suspicions almost instantly.

   “Deadly Nightshade can be used as medicine for certain things, when concocted properly. But no one in Elysium knows enough about it, or the disease, to even attempt to make a cure. The people continue to suffer, while our ruler refuses to find said cure.” The shopkeeper muttered the latter part under his breath, moreso to himself as he secured the vial tightly, placing it in front of her to take. 

Then, as silence stretched on between them, he realized what he had said.

Words that questioned the royal family, the King. And he had spoken them in front of a high-ranking noblewoman. If she reported him—

   “I’ll overlook what you’ve dared to say.” Y/N said quickly, her voice cold as she gripped the vial and nodded toward him. 

   “But you’ll forget my purchase.”

Without sparing him another glance, she exited the shop. 

The Second Princess didn’t truly intend to purchase the vial of the poisonous shrub, but the weight of it in her grip was undeniable as she stood outside the herbal shop. The glass container felt heavy, almost suffocating against her chest, made worse by the constant presence of her guard. She clutched it close, hoping her anxiety wasn’t visible on her face.

Damn it.

It would be disastrous for a princess like herself to be seen with poison, and she regretted not picking up a simple scent pouch instead. But there was no turning back now.

Her knight trailed behind her as she walked with confidence, though the nervousness swirling inside her didn’t show. She was doing well. Really well, too.

The journey back was short, maybe felt even shorter than when they had left for town. Maintaining a facade that didn’t draw any suspicious glances her way, Y/N hid the vial under her robe.

The attendants and maids had rushed to unload the carriages, bustling with the trunks of fabrics and trinkets she had brought with her. Her knight’s attention was briefly diverted to the servants darting past him, giving Y/N a head start.

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping her knight remained occupied by the attendants, his path blocked. 

She couldn’t afford for him to see her holding the vial. 

She couldn’t afford for anyone to see it. Unable to even fathom what sort of consequences would follow.

But, of course, that was bound to happen. With her head turning back to repeatedly glance over her shoulder, she didn’t notice the collision until it was too late.

Her body swayed as she instinctively reached out to steady herself by holding onto the person she had bumped into. Once grounded, her widening eyes met Prince Christopher’s equally stunned gaze. His grip on her forearm was firm, holding her up. An unexpectedly intimate position, though not as much as their last close encounter.

Chris’ gaze immediately flicked to her hand, noticing the vial she still gripped tightly. The vibrant color of the dried plant was unmistakable in her fingers. His brow furrowed with a frown, but before he could speak, Y/N recoiled, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she swiftly pulled her arm under the cover of her hood, hiding the tube.

   “Princess!” The knight had caught up, his stance instantaneously rigid as he positioned himself in front of her. 

His wary gaze swept over the Warrior Prince and his guard. One that made Han step forward, his own intense expression fixed on the young knight, silently sizing him up.

Y/N hadn’t even noticed Han until now, her focus had remained on Prince Christopher from the moment they collided. But now, she couldn’t even bring herself to meet his gaze.

   “Let us head back.” She said, her tone shifting to one of authority, attempting to ease the tension that had settled between them. 

   “There’s much to do.” She glanced back at her knight, the one who had always been defensive around the Nightshade warriors, his Elysium training evident in his watchful eyes. 

The knight relaxed his stance, crossing his arms behind him as he nodded.

Y/N could sense Chris wanted to say something, maybe about the vial he had clearly seen, or about the strange way she had been avoiding him lately. But she wouldn’t allow him to speak. She dipped her head in a quick, dismissive farewell, cutting any potential conversation short.

The Nightshade warriors watched her retreating figure, and Chris felt a familiar annoyance bubble up inside him. The Second Princess was always so cautious, yet always seemed to be running from something. From someone. 

Running from him. 

   “Was that what I think it was?” Han’s voice broke through Chris’ frustrated thoughts, pulling his attention back to his friend. 

The Warrior Prince slid his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed on Y/N's path.

   “It seemed so.” Chris muttered, his focus still on her.

Han groaned, irritation flashing across his face as he began to piece together the implications of what had just occurred. 

What did she plan to do with that poison? 

Perhaps they truly intended to lace it into his Prince’s tea. The mere thought made the guard clench his fists.

He glanced at Chris, who was still fixated on the direction Y/N had gone. Han knew his friend well enough to see the obsession in his gaze. 

Perhaps he would happily drink any poison-laced drink given to him by her.

────────────────────────

Felix stood rigid at the door, his eyes scanning the prominent figures gathered in King Bahng’s meeting room. The tension in the air was thick, a heaviness that even Commander Seo’s youngest son, Changbin, could sense. The Northern Warrior shot a quick, thoughtful glance toward the Solar Guard, his expression mirroring the uncertainty that hung over them all.

   “My King, we must take the first step.” Commander Seo urged once again, his voice firm, as he had done for the better part of the last hour.

Since the Commander’s arrival, he had brought his brigade of warriors, with Changbin at his side. Their presence underscored the gravity of the situation, the urgency palpable in their every move.

   “We can’t attack first, Commander.” Captain Elliot countered, his tone sharp, as he stood firmly by the King’s side.

It was the same debate, unfolding in a weary loop. The Nightshade Commander had been urging for immediate action, while the King’s Solar Captain insisted on holding back, waiting for the situation to escalate just enough to justify their move. 

The King sighed, his gaze shifting toward Felix, who had entered the room not long ago, clearly waiting for his chance to speak.

   “Do you have something to report?” The King’s voice cut through the tension that hung thick between the Solar Captain and the Commander.

Felix cleared his throat, stepping further into the room, the weight of the moment settling on him.

   “The Prince’s Midnight band have received a sign from their leader. It’s been two days, but once the path cleared, they were able to identify the markings on the tallest tree.”

Silence fell over the room, every eye turning toward Felix, waiting for him to elaborate.

   “What was the sign?” King Bahng’s voice bellowed, deep and authoritative.

   “A circle. Eight tallies.”

The moment the words left Felix’s lips, the Commander’s expression darkened. His brows furrowed in immediate understanding, his displeasure clear as he processed the implications of the message. He let out a “tsk” of frustration.

   “We’ve received the Crown Prince’s orders.” King Bahng continued, his voice firm and steady. 

   “Remain defensive. Encircle the border with as many stealth warriors as possible. We’ve already lost two days.” He pointed toward Elliot before turning his gaze to Commander Seo.

   “We have five days, Seo. Are your warriors prepared for war?” The King asked, his sharp eyes fixed on the scar-littered face of the Commander, who responded with a smug smile.

   “Prepared? Of course. We Seos have always been the backbone of the Kingdom’s strongest army. We just await your orders, my King. Surely, we could get a head start and eliminate the enemy royals before—”

   “We cannot jeopardize the safety of Nightshade’s Crown Prince, Seo.” King Bahng interjected, cutting him off with a steely look.

   “War is not about bloodshed, as you well know. It’s about protecting our people. And right now, we have our people in enemy territory.”

The Commander lowered his head, inhaling deeply, finally relenting.

   “Yes, Your Majesty.”

────────────────────────

The Second Princess of Elysium stared at the vial of Nightshade poison on her desk, her mind a storm of thoughts.

It was a small thing, but its presence filled her with an unsettling weight. The plant had once gleamed a vivid green in the light of day, but now, under the dim glow of her bedroom, it seemed darker than ever. The two shriveled black berries rolled slowly within the vial, one having fallen off the stem during her journey back to the privacy of her chambers. Possibly when she had collided with the Warrior Prince.

She sighed, sinking deeper into her chair, her eyes still fixed on the deadly shrub she hadn’t intended to purchase in the first place.

After completing her tasks for the day, she had made up an excuse about needing to retire early, convincing Anna that she was simply exhausted when the young girl seemed concerned anew by her out-of-character actions. Though recently none of her actions seemed anything close to her usual behavior. 

But now she sat at her desk, the cold night air breezing through the crack of the balcony doors she had left open, in hopes the chill would ease the suffocating weight in her chest, and would calm the storm swirling in her mind. Overwhelmed by whatever she had learned today, by this vial in her possession.

She had jotted down notes, writing out symptoms of Fading Ill, scraps of information she could recall from the herbalist she’d spoken to that afternoon. 

His words had stuck with her. The ones about the poor suffering, while the royals celebrated. While she sat here enjoying the comforts of a cushioned life. Even if she was looked down on, it was nothing compared to what the slum dwellers were living in. It made her feel guilty, that same drive that had erupted within her the first time she had heard about this sickness, had returned with much more intensity. 

Her father was not going to do anything about it anytime soon it seemed.

At least not until after Ian’s wedding in a few days. 

Once again she thought back to the herbalist and his warnings about this poisonous plant, its uses.

To grind, to cook, to mix.

Her eyes widened as a thought struck her.

   “A poison that could also be used as a medicine…” She whispered to herself.

The Deadly Nightshade, a common poison, yet no one in Elysium knew much of its uses beyond death. 

Ironically, the Kingdom known for its herbalism and medical advancements, named after this very poison.

Y/N chewed her bottom lip, torn between curiosity and frustration. If only there were books on such things in the palace, instead of the endless shelves of useless histories and ceremonial records.

If only she could run to Chan about this. 

The Nightshade Prince would know far more about poisons than she ever could, she was sure of it.

   “Have you finally decided to poison someone?”

The deep voice shattered the silence of her bedchamber, making Y/N jump, a startled scream slipping from her lips as she whipped her head around to find the Nightshade Prince standing in the room, having entered through the same small crack in the door she had left open.

It seemed as if he too was thinking about her.

About whatever he had seen this afternoon. 

Her gaze snapped toward the grand doors at the far side of the room, where her knight stood guard. The knight who surely would have heard her scream.

Yet, there was no movement. No rush of footsteps. No knight bursting in to protect his princess from a potential threat.

   “He’s not here.” Chris finally spoke, and Y/N’s eyes flicked back to him. 

He was leaning casually against the balcony door, his gaze briefly scanning the glass tube of the toxic shrub on her desk before settling on her stunned expression.

   “I thought I would have had to render him unconscious once more…” He continued with a touch of disdain, his eyes narrowing. 

   “But it seems your knight had other plans. Not worthy of being called a knight.” The anger in his words was unmistakable.

Y/N took in his words, processing everything. Finally understanding that the other night, her slumped over guard had in fact not been in a deep slumber out in the corridors.

Yet as her eyes settled on him, she could only stare at his intense gaze that traced over her, suddenly making her stiffen. 

She watched him look back at her desk, at the plant he definitely recognized at just a mere glimpse. At least she had been right about him knowing much about such poisonous plants.

   “I purchased it out of mere curiosity.” She finally answered his question, composing herself after her initial shock.

He tilted his head, brows raising as he took in her lame excuse. 

   “Purchasing a poison out of curiosity…that’s a first.” He seemed amused slightly.

Then his eyes narrowed, staring into hers.

   “Do you intend to poison me?” His question lingered in the air.

One that made sense. The foreign prince had been guarded ever since his arrival, and seemed even more so after learning certain things it seemed.

Still, the question left her frowning, a sense of unease settling over her.

   “You’re a Nightshade healer aren’t you? Surely you must have certain levels of immunity to such poisons.” It was a guess, something that seemed to be true with the way his expression morphed, slightly impressed, but he didn't answer.

Possibly still guarded, still wary. She was a princess of Elysium after all.

An enemy princess. One who loved him, his presence here making her heart hammer against her chest.

   “What are you doing here Prince Christopher?” 

The air between the two of them had shifted almost instantly with her simple question, making the Warrior Prince stand straight, gulping back to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

He could have told her that he wanted to speak to her.

That he wanted to know more about what she meant the other night. Why did she have such a dangerous plant in her possession?

He could have asked why she was avoiding running into him, avoiding confrontation.

That he wanted to know more about why she knew of Sienna not being his childhood friend, one she supposedly didn’t know about.

Maybe it was another guess. Like she had just made about this poison. But he wanted to know.

He could have told her he missed her. 

There were so many thoughts that flitted through his mind, yet standing here, staring at her hardened expression he couldn’t utter any of them.

His silence seemed as frustrating to her as him, making the Second Princess drop her head as she sighed.

   “You too must take my rank lightly.”

Her statement bewildered him, his brows narrowing into a deep frown at the implications. Taking a step closer before faltering from his stuntedness. 

   “What nonsense—”

   “Then what else? You freely enter my bedroom as you please. Jeopardizing my reputation as a young maiden. Isn’t it because I’m the daughter of the King’s Mistress, because you think I’m lowly?”

The words had come out harshly, words that had pricked at her ever since her birthday banquet. Ever since he had laughed at the existence of the King’s illegitimate children.

She watched as his expression grew upset, her words poking him with slight anger. But Y/N continued, as if talking to him after what felt like forever, made her bare out all the things that he’s done to hurt her unintentionally, finally pouring out in her own harsh words.

   “Just because you’re a Crown Prince and honorary guest, does not mean you-you can disrespect me.” Her stern tone faltered with hurt, gaze dropping to the ground.

Chris inhaled deeply, finally understanding.

He had already learned long ago that the second princess who no one outside the King’s court knew the existence of, was in fact not a sheltered or guarded girl like the Nightshade Warriors had assumed. He’d long learned that she was looked down upon by the higher-ranked royals, by her own mother even. 

That she cried often, that she hurt often.

He had long felt protective over her even before truly understanding his feelings. 

Yet now he understood. Princess Y/N, who held her head high, deep down, was very insecure. 

The Nightshade Prince exhaled, taking another step into the bedroom.

   “I do not take you lightly, I could never take you lightly. Nor do I mean any disrespect.” Chris finally spoke, unsettling the silence that befell them, his words sincere.

   “I know it is rude of me to barge in here and risk your reputation, but I could not control myself—I…” Chris’ words faltered for a moment. “—I wanted to speak to you.”

He knew it was a stupid excuse. Such an insignificant reasoning for his damning presence here in the privacy of her bedroom. But it was nothing but the truth.

   “Speak to me…” She repeated, a small laugh, tinged with bitterness escaped her lips.

   “—And you thought sneaking into my palace was to do so?” She almost glared back at him.

Both her words and her expression slightly irked Christopher, as if she was purposefully trying to misunderstand him. Each sentence of hers, drawing out his frustrations.

   “You run from me the moment you catch a glimpse. How else am I supposed to speak to you?” His tone was almost incredulous. 

She wasn’t surprised he had noticed, she didn’t really attempt to hide it either. Hoping her distant behavior would make him look at her badly.

   “Why do you think I run Prince Christopher?” She spat, her voice sharp.

   “You said the other night ‘didn’t happen’, yet you’re the one who seems to be reliving it every time you see me. It shouldn’t have happened. At least not like that. But can you not lie to both of us and accept the fact that you had wanted it as much as I…” His tone had softened, his awaiting eyes, twinged with frustration, with desperation.

Reminding her of the same look he had given her in the rain. 

A look that makes her stiffen, her hands clutching at the fabric of her nightgown.

   “I did not want that kiss.” She answered, her words cold almost.

A coldness that spread into the air between them, making the foreign prince stare at her with a slight surprise.

Yet it didn’t last long. His gaze darkened, slightly upset.

   “But you did not stop. You pulled me closer. You kissed me back.” His tone was slightly defensive, slightly something else.

Hurt.

It was time it seemed. To hurt him further. To put up that act that she had convinced herself into, determined to make him lose all interest in her.

To make him hate her.

To keep him safe.

   “What do you want me to say?” She asked, the venom in her words flowing freely.

   “That it was amazing, that I was desperate to kiss you? Well, that would be a lie. I hated it. It disgusted me. T-to kiss you— “ Each word felt like a prick, dripping with disdain.

The Princess watched, her hands balling as tightly as they could against her sides, holding back the tears that threatened to betray her and fall easily. But she continued.

   “—You, who kissed me like some predator.”

Chris could only stare, eyes raking over her suddenly distant figure. Her harsh words stung, each one a sharp stab against his chest. 

But what hurt more, perhaps, was the gaze. 

Even through the disgust that flashed across her face, the gaze remained, piercing him with an honesty he couldn’t ignore. It was the same gaze he had learned to recognize, the one she wore when she lied. That subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her eyes.

It was the same gaze he had seen in the rainy garden, when she had pressed him to leave but couldn’t bring herself to let go. It spoke volumes in the silence between them.

Prince Christopher dropped his head, masking the hurt that flashed across his face with a small laugh, his eyes returning back to glare into hers, gaze sharp and intense.

   “A predator?” He repeated, his voice dropping low, a tone that has her flinching slightly, yet not enough for him to catch.

   “Aren’t you? Your presence here is proof of it. Like a nightly beast you are so proud to be compared to.”

She knew it was low of her to spew such utter nonsense, knowing they weren’t even close to her true thoughts.

Knowing well enough that they would hurt him. Perhaps enough for him to look at her with disgust-laced eyes, like she had been pretending to do so.

The Warrior Prince’s jaw tightened at her words. His eyes trailing over her tense form. Her arms that had slowly crossed over her chest almost defensively as he stared.

   “So you’re showing your true colors then?” He muttered bitterly,  watching her stay silent, her eyes refusing to meet his.

   “Are you saying you’re just like them all? The nobles, the royals of Elysium, who are afraid of us? Who looks down on us?” 

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with tension.

Y/N’s grip on her arms tightened as she struggled to control her emotions.

   “I am a Princess of Elysium—An enemy princess. And—” Her voice faltered, his sharp eyes boring into hers, making her inhale silently.

   “And you terrify me Prince Christopher.”

The lies spilled into the silence that settled, his brows relaxing as he took in her words, processing. His eyes darted between hers hoping to find that they were false. Yet that glint he had seen earlier lingered no more. 

And he realized that she had been telling the truth.

That she was scared of him.

His lingering gazes, his touches. His presence here all seemed to terrify her.

Allowing herself to fall for him like he had her, terrified her.

A heaviness settled over him.

He had left behind the tensions within Ruby Hall, the defensive stance he was suddenly in. He had left behind the anxious thoughts that coursed through him upon realizing that he didn’t have his childhood friend here. 

He had pushed it all back to sneak around here, to climb into her chambers like a true beast.

Like a true mad man, in attempts to get her to look him in the eye. So he could apologize for his actions that night. So he could speak to her.

To explain to her about the crystal bird.

To hold her.

To kiss the second princess who undeniably attracted him even if he resisted. Although a part of him had been aware that he had perhaps been drawn to her from the moment they had exchanged words.

Perhaps the moment she had caught him loitering outside the Queen’s corridors, her gaze piercing even behind the veil that covered her face. His curiosity piqued.

But here she was now. The walls she had built around herself were not easily torn down. Instead, suddenly revealing a side of her that she had supposedly hidden throughout his entire stay.

Chris doesn’t believe it. That the girl who had advised him to be confident about himself, his nation, asserting his power, in front of these Elysium nobles, now claimed it was all a farce.

The girl who opened his eyes to what he could now understand as true love. The one who had made him question his feelings for his childhood friend, someone he thought he loved in some way, only to realize it was her he had fallen for, now claimed he disgusted her.

That she was terrified of him.

Claimed that he was truly a beast of the night. Sneaking into her bedroom, into the garden that night to lay his filthy hands on her.

Her lips, her actions, her words scream “Hate me. Like I hate you.” But her gaze spoke of something else entirely.

A desperation perhaps? A flicker of something he had seen before, amidst the downpour. Amidst the turmoil that churned between them.

From the outside it would have made sense. They weren't close, let alone be anything near friends. 

He knew the way she interacted with Hyunjin, saw first-hand how she spoke with him. How friends with one another spoke. Her form relaxed, her lips thinned into soft smiles.

Her giggles. 

The sound of which he had heard once that afternoon with the gathering of royal children. Yet, that sound seemed to haunt him, flitting through his thoughts whenever they felt like it.

But now he could only stare, his intent gaze boring into her. Her chest heaving from her anger, her frustrations that seem to spill out so easily in front of only him.

   “Do you truly wish for me to hate you then?”

The words hung in the air, a heavy silence falling between them as they settled. He watched her eyes widen slightly as she processed them.

He wasn’t sure why he had asked.

Part of him hoped she would shake her head, saying “no.”

Part of him hoped she would embrace him, her arms tightening around him just as they had that night. Her lips pressing against his.

But she does none of that. Her form stiffened, gaze locking with his, unwavering.

   “I do.”

Prince Christopher inhaled sharply, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before he took a step back, his posture stiff, his movements almost courteous.

A grim silence fell between them before he finally spoke.

   “Very well, Second Princess Y/N.”

His tone was cold. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

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