#reading slump tips

[the---hermit]

How to get out of a reading slump

A while back posted a list of ten books to help you get out of a reading slump, but I also wanted to post a more general list of tips I personally think are useful when you find yourself in a reading slump. (I have also talked about this topic in this ask). So here's some of my tips:

Take a break. Sometimes you can get in reading slumps because you are burned out, maybe not just because of reading, but that can be affected as well. You have no obligations when reading (unless of course if you have to do it for school/uni, in which case I would still recommend trying to get some time off or at least slow down a bit in order to get some energies back). Sometimes accepting that you are in a non-reading place in life it's the best solution.

If you feel like it's a book you are reading that is putting you in a reading slump dnf it, or at least try to switch between that and another book. I personally tend to get stuck when I have only one book in my currently reading pile, because I need to vary often, so I like to have at the very least two books that I am currently reading. Realizing this about myself made me read much more, because I have avoided a lot of reading slumps. I'd also like to add that there's no shame in dnf-ing a book, if you are not enjoying your time with it there's no reason you should keep forcing yourself to read that. Maybe it's not the right time, and you'll enjoy it more in the future, or simply the book is not made for you, which is totally fine.

Graphic novels are a great compromise to get some reading done when you are in a reading slump, but you still want to something to read. This is specifically my solution for when I am in a reading slump caused by being burned out. Graphic novels tend to require less brain energy, and the illustrations usually help a lot with the flow of the story. I think this is the safest option when you are in the worse reading slumps.

Audiobooks are your best friends, whether you want to listen to it while doing other activities, or you want the narrator to help you while you follow the page, I feel like this is another great option. I personally love audiobooks, and I like to always have one on the go. This is again a great option if you are feeling burned out, in those cases I really like to listen to the audiobook as I take a walk, or even as I play some mindless games online like tetris, and similar things. These are also a great option to help when the book you are reading is putting you in a reading slump but you really have to read it. I have used audiobooks a lot in high school to help when I had to read poems or big classics.

Short story collections can be one of the best options to get back into reading. These take off the pressure of being consistent in order to remember things, because you can pick them up and leave them as you like, since most stories won't be over 25 pages usually. There's also some great options of collections that include multiple genres, which can be very helpful when you are stuck and don't really know what you want to read.

Fairytales and kid's books might not come to mind as soon as you think of what to read, but they can be very helpful to get you out of reading slumps. They are short and lighthearted which are two fundamental characteristics of good books to get you back into reading. And rivisiting some childhood favourites is always a great choice in my opinion.

Reread an old favourite or a comfort book. I know some people don't love revisiting old favourites, but I personally love them. You always get something new out of the story, and rereading a plot you know already can take off a lot of the pressure of reading, because you don't have to pay the same attention as with a story you know nothing about. This can be very helpful when getting back into the habit of reading.

Set up a cozy place to read. I am all about romanticizing the small things in life, and this is a very effortless way to put you into a good mindset to read. I personally like to light a few candles, make myself a nice cup of tea, maybe get a little treat to eat, cuddle up under a blanket and just read. Of course your set up might change depending on your preferences, just have a little fun with it, you could even try to read a bit while you are taking a bath.

Try to read outside. Similarly to the last tip, changing your enviroiment can be helpful sometimes. Some people like to read in a cafè, but you could also go in your garden if you have one or in a park.

Consume bookish content. This might seem stupid at first but sometimes seeing other people be excited about reading and books is very motivating. It has personally helped me several times.

Start a buddy read with a friend you feel comfortable with. Sharing your thoughts with someone as you read a book can keep the motivation up and a buddy read can be a great option to help with motivation, but be sure that you are comfortable with this person so that you don't feel too pressure upon you. Be clear from the beginning set a small goal and have fun with your buddy.

At the moment these are all the tips that came to my mind when thinking about getting out of a reading slump. Of course different people might have different methods, but changing things up can always be helpful. As I said at the beginning you shouldn't feel pressure when reading, and if it's a no reading moment in your life there's not shame in it, but I have also been stuck in reading slumps where I actually did want to read but I couldn't bring myself to do so, and many of these things helped me.

original posts/tips masterlist

[the-lost-adventurers]

how to get out of a reading slump

I won't lie, I've been in a bit of a reading slump recently. So here are my tips!

1 - don't beat yourself up. that's not gonna help! just accept it, it's not the end of the world, and move on.

2 - schedule a time to read every day. E.g. I always read whilst I eat my breakfast, and usually before bed aswell, if I'm in a slump.

3 - start a new book, one that has a slightly different genre from what you were reading before. it'll get your brain to switch to a different type of engagement.

4 - stop looking at other people's progress! reading is not a competition, it is simply about enjoying your books. chill.

5 - enjoy it! and don't put pressure on it. if you aren't enjoying the book, start a different one. you can always come back to it later.

[masqueradereveler21]

Should I finally suck it up and work on the HL fanfic I’ve had floating around my head for like the last six months??? Seriously been wanting to bring Gwen’s story to life but keep getting sidetracked or disinterested but I miss this fandom and wanna be more involved in it…honest thoughts? Tips for getting through a period of writer’s block?

[novelbeetle]

I‘m in a HUGE reading slump. I started Shatter me and had to put it away cause I couldn‘t get into it. Now I‘m on Queen of Myth and Monsterd and I just can‘t get into it.

What do I do? How can I get out of this slump? Any helpful tips?

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Don't let a reading slump keep you from tackling your TBR. Use these tips to beat that slump!

[blogcozypeculiarbookshelf]

15 Ways To Get Out Of Reading Slump

Hey everyone! Today I thought I’d post a blog post about getting out of a reading slump. I am currently been stuck in one for a couple of months. So I’ll be making a list of ways to get out of a reading slump. 1. Pick up shorter books No one said every book you read has to be a long one. Pick a novella or a short story and see if that starts your reading fires again. 2.  Read your favorite book…

[screampied]

can you please please write manhandling & squirting w gojo :(

❤︎ ໋𓈒 telling your best friend satoru that you can’t make yourself squirt

warnings. fem! reader, manhandling, praise, fingering, talking you through it, rev cowgirl, dirty talk, squírting, mdni.

legs sprawled, toes all curled up, you were desperately trying to make yourself squirt. it’s never happened to you and you wanted to experience what it was like—you read through various erotic stories of how it feels way different than just your everyday ordinary orgasm. with your teeth softly digging against your bottom lip, your fingers gently rummage throughout and against your clit. after a while though, you end up sighing—on the verge of giving up before as if on literal cue, your best friend gojo opens the door.

“hey, is it any more . . oh! uh,” he’d murmur, walking in on you with your legs sprawled all open. gojo suppresses a giggle that was about to escape from his lips before he utters. “. . . should i come back another time? you seem busy.”

there was smugness dripping underneath his tone and you were far too aroused to feel embarrassed. “no,” you puff. “i need help, satoru.”

“yeahh you seem like it,” he snickers. running a hand through his hair, he hums to himself before his eyes avert towards your lazily slid to the side panties. “is that what you call fingering yourself?”

“. . . shut up,” you chastise, and his sly smirk only widens. gojo stares at you for a long while before inching closer towards you—plopping down beside you. the mattress jolts a bit from his weight and he cocks his head to the left in pure amusement. “i need help. i can’t … i can’t squirt.”

gojo sneers. “oh, you sure can. you just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, angel, heh.”

he had such a smart mouth, the dramatically frustrated sigh that deserts past your lips was too adorable—in his eyes at least.

the way you were so dedicated to making yourself have a proper finish was so cute . . but you couldn’t, you needed his help—you wanted his help.

“hm but okay,” he shrugs with a cheeky grin, getting right beside you. gojo lightly grabs your wrist, peering at how you’d already soak two of your digits with sloppy amounts of slick before he titters. “aw, poor thing. these useless fingers just can’t do shit, huh?”

“just fucking help me.” you grouse at him, a pouty scowl ceasing against your lips firmly.

“fine, girl fine,” he rolls his eyes. “i’ll take it from here.”

and he does because once he starts to ‘help’ you, it’s in a way that has you merely speechless.

with your neck slightly whirling towards the left, you’re mindlessly bouncing up at down on his thick cock. you’re faced the opposite way, your back leans up against his chest. gojo holds you up with no problem, a brief squeeze on your thighs and you start to whimper at how close his fat tip thwacks against a particularly sensitive spot.

“f— fuckk, ‘toru,” you’d whimper out, feeling him reach the deep components inside of you.

so deliciously good, you felt a few droplets of your own saliva trickle past your lips as you slump back against him. “so deep, stuffin’ me f— full, ‘toru.”

“. . . hah,” he pants heavily, tensed abs flexing each time he drags you up and down. he’s treating you like a rag doll. you didn’t expect him to do all this, having you all up and down. although, who were you to complain—he was reaching every spot without an ounce of trouble. “guess i can reach better than those fingers ever could, hm angel?”

“y—yes, yesss,” you stammer, your voice all shaky, trembling on each syllable that you spat out. “satoru, harder. fuck me, f—fuckkk me.”

you repeat the same words out your spit-glossed lips. with such a firm grip, he’s making your hips slam up and down—such a rigorous rhythm…

you try to grind a bit against him but you only end up slouching against his bare chest. it was simply no secret, gojo was known to be lengthy, longer than thick when it came to his cock. every orifice, he makes sure to locate every spot inside of your gummy walls with the crown of his shaft.

gush after gush, you’re spasming on him and you make a cute attempt at grabbing his wrist, clammy hands piercing into his skin. “s-so good, more ‘toru. right there, pleaseee . . !”

“i got ya.” he huffs, warm breaths waft right up against your earlobe. he’s holding you in place, each time he bounces you up again and again.

your eyes do that cute thing where it rolls all the way back into your cranium. it’s cute, lewd . . but cute.

with your pretty pupils dilated, all you see is nothing but pure splotches of white. his cock’s buried so deep that you’re stuck in a trance, a trance you never wanted to escape from.

“. . . awww,” he purrs against your ear, a big hand softly cupping your chin. he feels some of your translucent spit pour down the sides of your lips before smearing it over your mouth with his thumb. “such a messy baby. you feel it comin’ don’t you?” he teases, nipping a kiss near your neck once you squeeze his wrist a tad bit tighter. “oh. you want me to hold your hand, is that it?”

“sato—ru,” you whine, a cute trembly voice making a special appearance.

but oh, the stretch…

it was so good simply divine.

each second is spent with gojo’s dick delving into your clenched walls. a syrupy ear ringing whimper snatches right out of your throat before you speak once more, “satoru, ‘toru, s—satoru.”

“hey, that’s me,” he grunts with a coy grin, feeling how well you clamp down on him—of course, he’d make a joke out of nearly anything. you’re like a bobbling doll, feeling your cunt squeeze him tight before within seconds, your thighs began to quaver.

with your legs quavering, it was as if a volcano was preparing to erupt. violently, your legs start to tense and you’re steadily pulsing and pulsing. something’s coming and it’s coming fast…

it had to be exactly what you were thinking. it felt a bit different though. pressure presses down against you and you feel gojo’s fingers intertwine with yours. “heh, you’re kinda dramatic, huh?” he teases—and right before he can give you another snarky reply, he brings your hips to an abrupt halt. teeth chomping down together, your jaw insignificantly tightens and you feel a certain sharp twinge for at least three and a half seconds.

“i- i’m about to s-squirt, ‘toru,” you warn him, and he nips another chaste kiss near the crook of your neck.

“nuh uh. you’re going to squirt, trust me. give it to me, yeah. grind against me ‘n just listen to my voice, mhm.”

his voice.. just the way he spoke to you in such a playfully deep tone was enough to make you finish on the spot.

gojo holds you still. he’s still buried deep inside. stuffing you fill of hefty inches before he brings a hand towards your swollen puffy entrance. “damn, she really is so fuckin’ sloppy,” he grunts, starting to maneuver slow circles against your pussy. he makes haste with it though, and your lips part before moaning once you even hear the evidence yourself.

squelch, squelch, squelch..

it’s loud, it rings throughout your ears—each time, it’s louder than the next. he’s so sloppy with it too, no shame whatsoever. gojo then drags a soft thumb down your slit that was just sopping. everything felt so fervent - the way he’d strum his fingers against your cunt, only to then give it a concise spank.

“s-satoru, fuckkk.” you’d gasp, leaning way back with your legs still sprawled, “i—”

“now—don’t be rude, angel. she’s tryna speak to me, let her do her thing, baby,” and he clearly referring to your dripping wet pussy. he continues, rubbing against your clit at a much more rapid speed now. your legs could barely hold themselves open. mouth twitching, you feel a rupture on the very brink of rippling out of you before his spanks against your pussy come again, and again, and again…

“sloppy girl with a sloppy … fuckin’ … cunt.”

his words get more raspy and degrading and he’s way too into it to pause. with a thumb slowly tickling against your spasming nub, he watches at you moan a shrieking whine before not even seconds later, it happens. you gush out, and it’s a lot to where you even dampen gojo’s lap. thankfully he was prepared, keeping a towel underneath you just in case you were a bit too much of a soaked.

and soaked you were, it felt so good that you didn’t even know what to say… more like, you didn’t know what to think.

your mind was blank, equivalent to an empty canvas. he’s so mean, whispering such filthy murmurs into your ear before he lets you ride out your orgasm.

wet, you felt that entire word right between your legs. gojo’s still playing with you, cock stuffing your pussy full to the very brim before he feels you bare around him.

“. . seeeee,” he pants, humming in a soft tune.

he squeezes your folds tighter just to hear that honeyed mewl rip from your sweet lips. he gradually pulls out and now you’re just laying back against his chest with the dumbest expression. “told ya you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing,” he chaffs before making you turn your neck, dragging you into a deep kiss.

it catches you by surprise, you connect your lips against his and that’s when he makes you fall back. you watch with glossy eyes before he then grabs ahold of chin with one hand, brushing it tenderly against your skin. “say ah, open that pretty mouth for me ‘n taste what a messy girl you are.”

you felt your heartbeat go straight between your legs. once you loll out your tongue for him, staring right into his bright cerulean irises, he stuffs your mouth with two fingers. the same fingers that were covered in nothing but your sweet wet arousal. “yeah, run that tongue around my fingers ‘n taste it all, baby.”

you moan, swirling your tongue alongside his digits before you briefly end up gagging at the tips of his fingers massaging against the very back part of your throat.

“good girl,” he whispers—pulling his fingers out real slowly, he does this purposeful. a sheeny trail of your glistening saliva follows out from your lips before he gives you another long kiss before departing. “now, let’s do it again. but this time,” he utters, making you lie back against your back. “i’ll make you squirt just from my tongue, angel. let’s make that cute squirt velocity a little stronger, hm?”

[intromortal]

OLDER!ENHYPEN OT6 HEADCANONS PART 2.

part 1

⚠︎ nsfw, mdni. daddy/sir/master kink, age gaps (every party in this is an ADULT, no minors involved) intoxicated sex for hee's, semi public sex for hee's and won's, pregnancy sex and stepcest for jay's, jake is a little shit, corruption kink for hoon's, public sex for sunoo's, jungwon as an entire warning for sunoo's, teacher/student dynamics for jungwon's.

i strongly advise you read part 1 before this as i'm not sure the dynamics are clear enough without previous context !

a!n i missed older enha sm i just had to give this a pt 2 <3 gen so sorry for not having posted anything in like. forever but life has been beating my ass and while brain is braining, fingertips are not writing ughhh. hopefully i get out of this slump :] as always feedback is much appreciated! enjoy <3

HEESEUNG | ‘s chest was caging you, pressing your front against the cold bathroom wall of the definitely too pricey bar your date for the night had insisted on bringing you to, and you’d be laughing at how fate works in such unexpected ways if it weren’t for how sloppily heeseung’s mouth was running down your neck. warm tongue tracing every little sensitive spot and teeth grazing your skin.

“that little boy out there? he will never make you cum as good as i do,” he whispered as he slightly pulled back, breath hot from the alcohol raising goosebumps all over your body. you were very, very annoyed with him though, after the months of radio silence on his part that followed that one night in your room. and you made it clear with how you pressed your ass against his crotch, the gasp leaving his lips making yours turn upwards in return. had you known all it took to break lee heeseung was showing up to the bar he and his coworkers frequented with another man’s arm secured around your waist, you would’ve done that ages ago.

“well, he definitely made me cum way more in the last m—” you don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence, one of his rough hands flying up to your neck to squeeze it just enough to make the words die in your throat. his other hand grabbed his cock and teased the tip of it against your folds, the fabric of your panties so drenched with your juices they stuck perfectly to your fluttering pussy, and he could feel it all.

“oh yeah? how many? so smug and for what? he must have not done a good job then because here you are, dripping for me and i haven’t even done anything.” he let his cock rest underneath your heat, slowly moving his hips to tease you as he bunched your skirt up to get a clear view. all the patience and control he thought he had was already wavering, but it flew out of the window right then. like all the months of self-restraint, the guilt he felt towards your dad, even when he was fucking his fist alone at night on facebook family pics his best friend would post every so often, bringing his deepest desires out on the surface all over again. it all meant nothing when he finally pushed your panties out of the way, unashamed of the amount of precum mixing with your juices, as he bit down on your ear before letting his tip slide into your heat. “but i have all the time i want to match whatever number it is, angel.”

JAY | who had to watch you walk around with your boyfriend, his stupid face always so bright ever since you gave him the news that you’re pregnant. stupid fucking idiot who thinks he’s the dad. but of course, jay knew better. there was no way that child growing in your belly wasn't his, not after making sure to cum inside you time and time again whenever he had the chance, until his body physically couldn’t cum anymore. he hated your boyfriend and he hated to know you let his dirty hands on your body. he hated that he couldn't claim you publicly, letting everyone know you’re his. so all he had, to keep whatever little shred of sanity left in him, was knowing that your child is a product of your love.

and when his head nuzzled in your hair as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo while pumping his cock carefully in and out of your wet cunt, he asked time and time again if you knew it’s his offspring you're carrying, if you were doing all this on purpose to make him hurt.

“but of course you know—how could you not,” he said in open mouthed kisses against your neck, his hands sliding away from your thighs to swipe soothing figures with his thumb into the skin of your swollen belly. how could it be so wrong? even if he’s your step dad, even if he recently married your mother? his love for you couldn’t be wrong, because then why did it feel so right? something so beautiful and pure just has to be right, he thought to himself. his hands wandered to your tits full of milk, playing gently with your hypersensitive nipples, careful not to hurt you. “shhhh little girl, it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he murmured along the skin of your shoulder as he kept rubbing his fingers all over your tits, the little droplets of milk only helping his digits to move smoothly. you sounded so pretty mewling like that for him, looked so pretty squirming in his strong hold, your back arched as you started to fuck yourself back on jay’s cock. “what a good little girl… helping daddy out,” he moaned in your ear before bringing one of his fingers to his mouth and licking it clean, loudly groaning at the taste of your milk. “so fucking sweet baby, fuck… you always make daddy so proud.”

JAKE | truly didn't mean for this to happen, but it was happening anyway so you two should just make the best of it, at least that’s what you hoped he thought. you though? fuck, you felt so embarrassed. leaving your cheating boyfriend for his dad was one thing. but knowing he was listening in to you two fucking? that’s next level. jake didn’t seem particularly fazed by it, actually maybe a little… excited about it?

you’d swear he’s been pounding you into the matress even rougher than he was before, since he heard the front door slam, signifying his son was back home when he shouldn't have been. you were always so careful with making sure you only went over when your ex boyfriend wasn't there, or maybe jake had done that on purpose? lied to you… but he would never, would he? he’d always been so sweet and caring, truly the best man you’ve ever had. and honestly even if he did plan for this, you were not coherent enough to realize, at least not while he held your head down on the mattress with his huge veiny hand, the other roughly holding onto your hip as he unapologetically pounded into you, making the headboard of the bed slam repeatedly into the wall. the exact wall against where you knew your ex boyfriend’s desk is placed. jake was usually so soft, always putting your pleasure above his, what had gotten into him?

you could barely think as you moved your head to the side to be able to breathe, the relief short lived because soon after he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail and yanked you up against his chest, his hips never faltering as your face started to feel even hotter. you couldn't tell if it was the humiliation or the pleasure, or maybe both.

“stop fucking holding back,” his tone was almost mean, so uncharacteristically him, and it brought tears to your eyes, but also made your messy cunt leak even more. you didn't want to be heard, but jake was making it one hell of a challenge to keep quiet, especially when he let go of your hip and brought his hand to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“please sir… slower,” you bit down your moans, pleading through gritted teeth. and jake was not happy about it. the sting on your clit was sudden, your body jerking in his hold as you slowly realized he’d just slapped your clit.

“no,” his voice left no room for backtalk, as he hit your bundle of nerves one second time. “you will let him hear how much better i fuck you.”

SUNGHOON | was the first man you allowed to touch you. he was obsessed with you from the moment you shyly walked up to him to introduce yourself when you first met him, pretty large eyes looking up at him with a glint he couldn't quite decipher at first. he slowly learned it was submission. from day one, you’d been nothing but obedient, always looking for praise, always trying your best to make him a proud instructor. and you just always looked up to him with such innocence… it felt wrong, how hard it made his cock.

so when he finally had you for the first time, he had to try his best not to cum right then and there, when you told him you’d never been with anyone like this. you couldn't even look at him as you confessed it, poor little thing. no one had ever pushed past your folds inside your tight fluttering hole, you’d never had anything push between your lips, never had anyone taste you. he was obsessed with that thought. he’d get to be your first everything, and that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“it’s okay baby… i will make it feel so good…” he said as he captured your lips in a kiss once again, so soft and careful as if he might break you. the kiss was deliberately slow and sensual, he wanted to just bask in the moment, afraid it might end too soon, his hands roaming around your body and pulling you flush against him, his length rubbing against your body. you gasped at the contact, breaking away suddenly, surprised at how he chased your lips again right away.

“wan’... wanna make you feel good…”

he could tell you were holding something back, too shy to initiate it, so he helped you out. “who is it pretty girl mh? who do you want to satisfy?” he watched you carefully, cradling your head with his hand, and nearly groaning when your nuzzled into his palm right away, just like a little kitty.

“wanna make daddy feel good… don’t know how to,” you stuttered out, hiding your face in his hand, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. he doesn't know where he found the self control to not turn you against the lockers in the changing room and take you right then and there, but somehow, he did. instead dropping to his knees in front of you and sniffing your cunt right through your workout leggings, mouth salivating instantly. he mouthed at your core, basking in your cute whimpers, before he finally slid the thick fabric down along with your panties, enough to reveal your puffy little pussy. he grabbed your thighs, bringing you over his mouth completely, admiring her from so close. “another time sweet girl… let daddy take care of this needy little thing first.”

SUNOO | loved showing you off to everyone. to his employees, to his friends, to his collaborators and most of all, to his competition. especially when said competition has… history with you.

he always made you wear nothing under your skirt, granting him easier access during the night. at that point, you had started to get used to all the weird looks and whispers you got when, like clockwork, his hand slid between your thighs under the table to toy with your pussy. not like they ever said anything anyway, sunoo was just too powerful and important for them to. regardless of how fucking weird he is.

this time though, it’s different. the guest for the night was none other than yang jungwon, one of sunoo’s top competitors, and well… probably your most infamous old fling. and sunoo was fucking loving it. for the special occasion, he’d encouraged you time and time again during the night to sneak your hand in his pants. and so you do; what sunoo wanted, sunoo got. that was the rule.

the air was charged with tension despite the almost laid-back look of it all: sunoo laying back against his chair like absolutely nothing was going on, and jungwon seemingly uncaring for what was actually going on, if not a little humored by it. and they were just making casual conversation at that. “heeseung… haven’t heard that name in a long time,” jungwon pondered, reaching for his wine glass.

“yeah… last time i met him he— fuck yeah puppy, just like that.”

your hand froze on sunoo’s cock, noting the twitch in his length. he always loved putting you in embarrassing situations, got off on it. your eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights as you looked at jungwon, your foot nervously tapping on the floor when he stopped mid sip. he looked between the two of you, eyebrow quirking slightly before downing the rest of the wine in one swing. “puppy, huh?”

you wanted to hide somewhere, anywhere. let the ground engulf you and never let you escape. but sunoo pinched your thigh, and you knew it meant he wanted you to keep milking his cock with your fist, so you did.

“a very obedient one,” sunoo snickered, and you hated how it made you clamp your thighs together in search of some friction.

“she knows how to use her hands, but her head is even better,” jungwon commented, clearly amused by the situation.

“agree, had to train her to take it though.” they were talking about you, in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that you were there to hear it. and for some sick reason it turned you on. you glanced back at sunoo with a questioning look on your features, and he pet your head a few times, the usual glint in his eyes telling you to keep going, or he’d have to teach you a lesson when you two eventually left the restaurant. and one thing about sunoo, you never wanted to push him to do that.

JUNGWON | prided himself in being a calm and collected man, always level headed. that completely flies out of the window when it comes to you. but could you blame him? when he sees how all your coursemates tried to get paired up with you, found any excuse to talk to you? he knew they just wanted to get in your pants, he saw it in how they watched you, how their eyes roamed all over your body whrn you were not looking their way. he saw it in their eyes too, and he fucking hated it.

he knew it was not your fault, but he couldn't take it out on them. after all, what you two have was a secret. so instead, he took it out on you. called for you to stay back so you two could talk after class was over and everyone was already leaving, you happily walking towards him without a know in the world of the storm raging inside him. you caught up soon though, when you noticed how hard his jaw was clenched and how his knuckles were turning white from the strong grip he had on the crumpled papers.

he hastily took off his tie, securing it around your wrists so your arms were bound together behind your back. you were so confused as he made you get on his desk, looking back at him to ask what's happened but he didn't even let you get a word out before he pushed you on your knees. your upper body bent forward to rest on the desk because your arms were tied together, unable to support yourself up. your ass was facing him as he stood behind you, pushing your skirt up to reveal your bare cunt. no panties.

this would usually excite him, but in his jealous haze, it only enraged him further. “and you wanna act like you don’t know what the fuck you did?” he spit out, yanking you closer to the edge of his desk. “slutting yourself out like this? when you know how everyone is trying to get a look under your skirt?”

“won, what are you—”

“won?” he landed a harsh slap on your ass, your body jerking forward at the sting.

“sir! sorry sir—”

“yeah you’ll be sorry alright.” he took a seat on his chair, bringing your ass to hover close to his face before diving in and licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, groaning in satisfaction at the taste. “no cumming today, little brat.”

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[healmydesires]

sweet like sugar ꕤ (l.h)

part one

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Now that Logan was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t get enough of you.

OR

Logan fucks you from behind.

genre: fluff + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 3,7k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, literally the scene right after this fic, porn with NO plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, inexperienced!reader, hint at loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, doggy style, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, logan talks you thru it. a lot more daddy kink in this one ngl. HEAVY ON THE BREEDING kink aaaaa sorry. I am still ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? reader is also ovulating bye. lots of pet names. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant but it’s not really mentioned in this part tho. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!

a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! I finished part two that I wanted to originally post in the main fic but it kinda felt out of place idk either way!! I’m posting it now 🤪 I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 this is just smut😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating…

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

Logan manhandled your body, guiding your body so that you were lying on your stomach. He manoeuvred you in the position he wanted you to be. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.

He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumped slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted.

You whimpered, feeling his eyes on your wet heat as it clenched repeatedly, aching and begging to be filled all over again and again. Logan growled as he stared at your entrance as your combined cum dripped down your hole, as you continued to clench around nothing. Your body trembled with anticipation.

Logan had made sure you’d cum several times before he took you for the first time. Before tonight, you were so inexperienced, a virgin actually. Now, all you could think about was that you wanted and needed him to continue and fuck you for hours, filling your pussy with his cum over and over again.

He leaned over you, covering your whole body with his own. Logan nuzzled your neck as he littered your skin with his kisses. You writhed against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

The air was stuffy all around you, each harsh breath released only thickening it up, leaving your skin hot and your mind fuzzy. Logan groaned into your ear, mouthing kisses along your neck, tongue trailing down the junction between your neck and shoulder before he gently nipped your skin.

Logan reached down to grasp his cock to line up with your tight entrance. He rubbed his tip firmly over your pulsing hole. Your mind was all over the place as his ministrations continued.

“Fuck, can’t wait to fill you up again.”

His breath caught in his throat as his cock smeared his pre cum against your already cum filled hole. The usual restraint between his mind and his words seemed to vanish, as words tumbled from his mouth.

“I wonder if you can handle this position already.” He whispered almost to himself as his hands kneaded your ass cheeks. “Your tiny pussy could barely handle my cock earlier…”

“No, daddy… I can take your big cock.” You whined desperately as you tried to push your hips against his own, hoping he’d enter your pussy again. You were squirming, as you kept trying to push his cock inside you, but Logan had a strong hold on you, which made it hard for you to move around too much. “I’m daddy’s good girl.”

At your words Logan growled, grasping your hips and tilting them more and pushed your trembling legs further apart.

Logan inhaled sharply. “You smell so good, kitten. I can smell your fertility. Your little pussy is practically begging for my cum.” He murmured against your ear. Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. Logan continued as he pressed tender kisses down your neck, “Can’t wait to breed this pussy again and again with my cock. All night.” Logan moaned and you hissed at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you felt it press against your entrance.

A broken gasp left your lips as he finally slid the tip inside you. You felt his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you knew his eyes were on your pussy. He watched as your walls spread to try and begin to wrap around him. You whimpered at the new angle as you tried to accommodate his girth. He could barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It felt like you were being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stuttered and mewled.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Logan moaned as he gradually slid more of his thickness inside you and you trembled more underneath him. Your pulsing walls were wrapped tightly around his cock, as your soaked pussy pulled him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelmed you while you clutched the sheets below you in tight fists.

Logan towered over you, as he pushed more of his length inside you, his gaze focused on your clenching hole as his dick slowly disappeared more and more inside you.

You arched your back as you clung onto the bed sheets for dear life, nails digging into the comforters. You couldn’t keep quiet, little mewls and whimpers tumbled past your lips with ease as Logan slid inside.

“Ah, daddy… so big.” You whined.

“You take me so well, pretty girl. Doing so good for daddy.” He moaned as he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he kept pushing more of his girth in you slowly. Every time Logan would slide more inside your pussy would squeeze around him. You knew he was barely halfway in, still you felt so full.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans kept spilling from your lips as Logan continued to push deeper and deeper. Your hands trembled as they gripped the sheets between your fingers while he penetrated your tight walls.

“P-please, need more. I can handle it daddy…” you whimpered as you tried to push back your trembling body against him, his cock sliding deeper inside you.

He groaned at your desperate whines and as you pushed back against him , losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his thick cock all the way inside your wetness. The head of his cock touched your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream left your mouth as you trembled underneath him, your pussy trying to adjust to his size as it clenched around his cock. You pushed your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers kept falling from your lips.

“Christ, you’re so warm—fuck—so tight,” he growled, rambling without a thought, too enveloped in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him.

You moaned and squeezed around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands moved to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this tight?” Logan groaned — the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air.

There was an intense pressure deep within your stomach — Logan’s thick cock throbbed erratically inside you. The feeling of him nestled so deep within you had you sighing in pleasure. There was still a dull ache — from how wide he stretched you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits — but pleasure soon replaced the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjusted to Logan’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cried out in pleasure.

Fingers were digging harder into your ass, soft grunts and pants escaped his lips as you moved your hips slowly back against him. “Fuck— that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock—you feel so good,” Logan growled as his head fell back. The soft murmuring of his voice ripped through the room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingled with yours.

“Fuck, Logaaaan,” you whined — drawing out the syllables of his name. His hands were still on your ass — holding the plump flesh in his large hands while he squeezed and spread them apart.

Pleasure seeped into your veins, and you began grinding and squeezing more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slipped from your lips, as you felt his cock pulse inside your tight walls.

“Kitten, fuck, I can’t wait anymore. Need to fuck you.” He slurred and panted above you — euphoric elation dripped from his words. Your stomach twisted — the heat inside caused your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements. “Need to breed this pussy.”

“Ah, Lo—”

Both your breaths laboured as you’d feel his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, as you whined at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Logan growled before he thrust himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moved his hips slowly but hard against yours. You cried out as he thrust so deep inside you that it had your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continued to pulse and squeeze around his thickness, as it tried to adjust to its girth still.

“Pussy needs to be filled all the time ain’t that right?” He groaned as he punctuated every word with a thrust.

You moaned loudly as you arched your back and pressed your ass up against him. He grabbed your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he rolled his hips deeply into yours. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as you tightened around him.

He was so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly which made your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby girl, you’re so sexy like this.” Logan slowly picked up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right kitten?”

With every thrust, you couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only was Logan’s cock thick, but he was incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: which allowed his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands moved to your hips, Logan gripped them tightly as he helped you move against him. Every movement had hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curled in elation while your stomach twisted and knots violently. The ecstatic bliss of your impending orgasm called to you and you began bouncing your ass against him.

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-please please f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you begged and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gave you a particularly hard thrust.

You felt your arms almost giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Logan’s hands were clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leaned down to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travelled down your spine, until he leaned back up and just watched you as he fucked into you from behind.

Skin melded together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lost yourself into the feel of Logan. Your mind goes blank as all you could do was focus on the feeling of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrust deeper inside you, which earned him whines and moans as you continued to cry out his name. You tried to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he made you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuelled his desire to fuck you better, urged him to do more.

Logan picked up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that had your body going numb.

From above you, Logan fucked harder — his cock thrusting deeper into you. The additional sensation caused you to whimper, your pussy twitched as sheer, unadulterated bliss began flitting through your bloodstream. You were close — so close you could practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth was completely dry from gasping his name and calling him daddy over and over again.

You clawed at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air was all stuffy around you as his hips moved faster, you whimpered as you tried to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy was so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thick girth as it pulsed and tightened around him. Logan moaned at the sight, kneading your ass as he tried to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes rolled back inside your head once again as you dug your fingers more into the bed, you mewled against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

You whined loudly as he shifted inside you, the new angle made him hit your sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Logan moaned. Your pussy was so wet and warm around him, your walls squeezed his cock with every thrust, “feels so good, kitten. You’re taking daddy’s cock so well.”

Your noises became louder and higher pitched as he continued his assault on your pussy, indicating that you were getting closer as well as the lewd sounds of your pussy that kept meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mixed so well with your desperate cries.

Logan couldn’t help it, you looked so pretty like this. Fucked out beneath him and so fucking full of his cock, the closer he got to his orgasm the more the images of you filled with his cum consumed his thoughts.

“Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groaned as he thrust harder into your heat. “Begging for me to breed her.”

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—” You whined as your eyes rolled back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groaned while one of his hands reached around you to slip against your clit as you writhed against him as he applied pressure. The pleasure had the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

Suddenly, everything became too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You tried to catch your breath but from how Logan was thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it felt almost impossible to do so.

“F-feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathlessly, “so cock drunk and so fucked out you can barely talk.” He whispered once he leaned down as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, as he picked up his pace once again. He fucked you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. “Don’t worry, I think I know what you need.”

He leaned his body completely against yours as he continued to hit against your cervix repeatedly while one of his hands kept rubbing your little bundle of nerves. “Feels good doesn’t it, sweet girl?” You whimpered and trembled underneath him as you nodded, he moaned against your ear before he whispered close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Y-yes! F-feels sooooo so gooood, Looo—” you whined as he continued to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Logan’s fingers kept pressing down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continued to build up as the pleasure became too overwhelming.

“That’s right, princess.”

Logan snapped his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. You felt like your head was swimming once again as you whined. “I’m sooo so close, p-please… daddy… I’ve been such a good girl.” you begged desperately. You only needed one more little push, a little bit more attention to finally reach your peak again.

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy.” He panted above you.

You cried out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name as he moved his head down again, pressing kisses all over the side of your face down your neck.

“Can’t wait, fuck—“ he breathed, he stopped himself to let out a loud groan, “can’t wait to fill you up. I keep dreaming about filling you up nice and good. ”

The words made you keen and pulse around his cock, as you moaned his name into the warm air of your bedroom. You wanted more, needed to hear more, wanted to know what else he wanted, what else he dreamed of but your voice was strangled, your brain incapable of forming a sentence.

“I keep dreaming about breeding this pussy until you’re fuckin’ pregnant.” He grunted before he whispered in your ear, “be a good girl and cum for daddy.”

“Fuck, oh my god,” you cried, a shrill wail as Logan’s words went straight to your pussy. Your cunt gushed all over Logan’s cock as he never stopped. His thrusts were hard and deep, enough to turn your vision starry.

“That’s it… that’s it, let go pretty girl.” He murmured lowly into your ear.

His hips never slowed down as he massaged your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snapped, your eyes rolled back into your head while you arched your back as your world dissolved into pure ecstasy. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking as he talked you through it. You almost blacked out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimpered as the overstimulation got to you.

“Doing so good for me, baby.” He groaned as his pace became more erratic, with less finesse as he charged towards his own finish line. “Daddy wants to fill you up. N-need to fuck my cum into you, kitten. Breed you and get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulsed and tightened around him as he continued to hit your sweet spot inside you. He groaned as his movements became more sloppy. He cried out your name with a gasping breath. Loud mewls left your lips as he finally spilled his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pooled deep inside you. An instant wave of pleasure rolled throughout your body as he filled you up with his hot cum.

“Ah...” you whimpered underneath him as your body continued to shake.

He kept fucking his cock inside of you, fucking his cum deep inside of you until he was satisfied. Logan exhaled deeply as he came down from his high, his body slumping against your own. His cock was still lodged deep inside you, still half hard as he kept the cum inside your pussy. You whimpered as your pussy pulsed around him, as it kept clenching repeatedly around his still hard length.

You tried to catch your breath as Logan groaned while you continued tightening involuntarily around him. “Kitten,” he warned breathlessly, “don’t do that.”

“I can’t really help it.” You said under your breath.

He gently pulled out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you felt his eyes on you, knowing that he watched his seed drool out of you. Your legs were spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he was much more focused on how his cum leaked out of you, his seed dripping down your hole. Chest swelling with pride, he couldn’t help but let out a lazy smile.Your pussy continued to clench repeatedly around nothing and he groaned at the sight. Logan made sure to plunge his pointer finger into your hole as you gasped, stuffing you back up with your shared cum.

You winced at the sensation, a whimper slipped from your lips at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Logan mumbled, even as he continued pushing his fingers inside you.

“Not now, I’m tired,” you murmured back whiningly. When the ache of oversensitivity got too much, you bat Logan’s hand away before you closed your legs.

With a low laugh, Logan pressed an apologetic kiss to your knee before picking you up effortlessly, making you yelp in surprise. “Up you go.” You were about to complain that you could walk perfectly to the bathroom on your own, when you felt sore and your legs felt incredibly numb.

Once he reached the bathroom, he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub all while running the water and surprising you with your favourite bath bomb, to create a bubble bath. It brought a smile to your face knowing he knew so much about you.

“Logan… how is it that you always know what I need?” You whispered as you looked at him dreamily.

“Isn’t that what your best friend and new boyfriend should know?” He gave you a teasing smile.

“Either way, thank you.” You whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You leaned into Logan's gentle support as the tub filled. When it was ready, he carefully lifted you and helped you into the warm water. Looking up, you moved towards the centre, silently inviting him to join. Logan eased in behind you, and you shifted forward slightly so he could settle comfortably. The soothing warmth enveloped you both as you relaxed against him, relaxing instantly in the peaceful moment.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

His strong arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you were nestled securely against him. You let out a contented sigh, feeling the solid warmth of his chest behind you. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing was soothing, and you found yourself relaxing even further.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath soft against your ear. His lips then traced a tender path down your neck, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his words. The sweet gesture sent a pleasant shiver through you.

A smile spread across your face as you settled deeper into his embrace, feeling utterly at peace. The moment felt perfect — safe, warm, and full of affection. You shifted against him, shuffling around as you moved closer into him in the water, you pressed your naked body against his. Face to face once again. Easily, your legs tangled together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your heart swelled with emotion as you replied, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

“I love you too.”

In that quiet moment, surrounded by his warmth and care, you felt truly cherished. The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of contentment.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ And that’s how the rest of the night went, tender kisses and soft touches shared between you two as you enjoyed each other's company. Feeling so loved and at home as you melted in his embrace.

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lover-of-fictional-people]

for the past couple of months I've been in a horrible reading slump, so if anyone has ANY tips and suggestions on how to end it, PLEASE SHARE WITH THE CLASS I'M DESPERATE

[lifebetweenthecovers]

Let's Talk About Reading Slumps

Come on and read about reading slumps and let me know how you deal with them!

Hello everyone out there! Welcome or welcome back to Infinite Pages. As usual, I’m Jesse and I’m here to have a bit of a chat with you about something reading related that isn’t a book. I know, total shocker isn’t it? Today, let’s sit down and have a serious chat with each other, just you and me about something I know really well. This is a topic I have a lot of personal experience with and…

[madlovenovelist]

Conquering the reading slump.

What to do when nothing in your TBR interests you. I’ve had times when I’ve hit a rough patch with my reading – where I just can’t get into anything and immediately start to stress a little. But I’ve found a few little tips that have nipped that anxiety and disinterest for reading in the bud. The most obvious thing is – don’t stress. It’s not that important in the grand scheme of things. It…

[taintedcigs]

— fall into pieces

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

summary: steve comes in his pants from eating you out. that's the plot. (wc: 1.3k+)

warnings: smut without plot basically, or*l (f!receiving), praises, steve cums in his pants, soft smut!, steve is attentive, MINORS DNI.

author's note: not proof-read. this is dumb and doesnt make sense bc i wrote it in 20 mins bc i desperately needed to get out of my stupid slump sooo just pls support me in my shitty writing era thank you.

pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Steve loves eating pussy.

Scratch that, Steve just loves eating you out.

Because let's face it, before you, he didn't really care that much about the other girl's pleasure, or he just wasn't really that keen on eating pussy.... that was until you came along.

He didn't know what it was, that had him hooked on you this much, how much he enjoyed tasting you like a man possessed when it came to eating you out.

You taught him how fucking pleasurable eating pussy was, and it unironically changed him.

Once he realized how much it mattered to him to make you cum, he decided to make it his mission. Make a mental note of how you responded when he did anything.

He studied the noises you made when his fingers lightly traced your inner thighs, the shaky breaths you gave him as you silently pleaded, begged for more.

He started picking up on the way your body gave into him, slowly at first, and then all at his mercy. Padded thumb circling around your clit, velvety lips puffing a huff of cold air, making you whine while he wore that cocky smirk, hook, line, and sinker.

He just didn't realize how much it got him off to see you like this, to taste you fully, not until now.

"Such a gorgeous fuckin' pussy," he hummed, pressing upwards, just a little bit, reveling in the way your back arched for him. Once he finally got you prepped, smearing your juices all over, earning more sounds from you, then he pushed a finger inside of your soft walls, drawling the sweetest sounds.

"God, s'fuckin soaked, honey, all f'me?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, lips turning into a mocking pout, earning nothing but incoherent babble from you. He adds another finger, drumming his fingers inside of that sweet spot, turning you into gooey mess, his cock twitching in his pants.

Only when you pathetically murmur out a "S-steve!" that he finally kisses you all over, tongue licking up a flat stripe up your cunt, making your brain short-circuit.

"Y'like that, sweetheart?" He hums, and you nod all dumb, making him chuckle in that arrogant tone, yet you can't even argue.

He is that good.

The tip of his nose brushes against your clit, "ride my face, honey," he murmurs, but it's more like an order, that perfect chocolatey gaze so full of lust that you can feel yourself clench, nothing but a little "okay" coming out of your glossy lips.

And he groans at your fucked out face, you look so perfect. Spread out in front of him, glistening with arousal, head thrown back, plushy lips slightly open with your uncontrollable moans.

He buries his face in your cunt before you can beg him to, teasing with kitten licks before sucking your clit into his mouth, you cry out in all glory, thighs squeezing his head, hands crushing the sheets beneath the two of you in need.

His cock twitches at the sound, caged beneath his boxers the more you grind against his tongue, and he fucking smirks at you, watching your face twist the second he slips his index fingers inside of you, words roll out of your tongue as nothing but disordered sounds.

His cold fingers curl inside of you, making you arch your back against him, you want to beg for more, but you can barely speak.

And of fucking course, he can tell, his devilish smirk growing wider before his padded thumb circles around your clit, the tip of his tongue keeping the rhythm.

His cock feels stiff, so fucking stiff that it feels uncomfortable, wanting, needing to feel your walls, to be inside of you, watch the way his huge cock stretches you fully.

"S-steve!" He knows that tone all too well, singing for him, the sweet sounds of your whimpers, letting him know that you are close to the edge, and he doesn't hesitate to add another finger.

"Doin' so good for me, sweetheart, you close, huh?" He mocks all knowingly, tongue sucking your clit while his fingers circle around it, it's all the stimulation you need and more, body going frail with how attending he is.

You give a slight nod, body flushed with lust, cunt clenching around him, "Use me," he begs, desperate, needing to see how heavenly you sound when you come around him, the prettiest face you wear.

"Use me to get yourself off, baby." The words sound filthier with his whiney tone, you know he's close too, just by eating you out. And it makes you want that sweet release so much more, chasing it eagerly.

His tongue picks up his movements, fingertips rubbing your clit with vigor, and you ride his face in all glory, chasing that little taste of heaven.

You don't know if it's the "Good girl," praise he offers, his fast-paced fingers on your swollen buds, or that celestial tongue of his sucking on your clit, but you lose it all. "Oh, f-fuck!" You moan out, every control of your body, gone.

Going to pieces when he makes you cum, your taste flooding his senses, overtaking him as well. It's all he wants, worship you, taste you on his tongue, watch your face contort over and over again.

That's the routine normally, but now it makes him realize how much more he enjoys this, having you spread apart in front of him, pussy fluttering around his tongue and fingers, and that's all it takes to have him leak all over, hips grinding into nothing but the sheets, cumming in his boxers, groans leaving his mouth.

It takes you a minute to register it all, barely able to catch your breath. "Steve, d-did you-" You looked down at his boxers, all warm and wet.

"S-shit, baby, I'm sorry, I just-" He mumbled, almost embarrassed, words jumbled together, blushing furiously.

God, that was so fucking hot.

He avoided your gaze, looking down on the mess he made, warm load spread all over his boxers, sure to leave a stain. Sticky and embarrassing him. "You just looked so fuckin' hot and tasted so good-"

"Steve," You interrupted him, his attention all on you, gaze so sweet that he can't avoid it. "What are you apologizing for that was so fucking hot," you blurted out, eyes blown wide with lust all over again.

"W-what?"

"Baby, you cumming your pants from eating me out just made you ten times hotter." You groaned all whiney, leaning in closer to him.

"Do you need me to take care of you now, Stevie?" You asked, tone sultry, and your doe-eyed gaze, dangerous, making his cock stiffen in record-breaking seconds.

"Keep talkin' to me like that and I'll cum in my pants once again, baby," he teased with a whine, lips still curled into a grin, making you giggle with your head thrown back.

"C'mere," you grabbed him by his shirt, kissing him roughly, teeths clashing and lust filling the room again as you tasted yourself all over his tongue.

Eager to make him fall into pieces again.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

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