#( so he forces her to dwell in the past with him )

[clochanamarch]

"you thought, what, exactly?! that you could give these children a happy childhood filled with love and kindness? how can you provide what you never had in the first place?!" "i had love!" "and look how that turned out." ajay the violence was deserved buT MISDIRECTED--

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[lufyuu]

,,Discipline''

Older military instructor x younger brat male reader

Tw/s: brat taming, dubcon, face fucking, age gap (22&38), sadism, hair grabbing/pulling, punishing themes, light degration and praise.

The room is almost dead quiet if not for the lecture a tall man is giving. Air and people alike both tense. Nobody dares to make a wrong move nor play around. Though, that 'nobody' doesn't include a certain young man who has just barely graduated from college not long ago. Some describe him as a very shameless and lazy man, while others just say he's enjoying life. He'd always be either on his phone or napping all throughout his classes. It seems like it's all he can ever do, even at home. Instead of finding a decent job and finding love like his friends, he only stayed home being a bum living in his parents' basement. This 'routine' continued until he got the sudden news of being enlisted in the military all thanks to his mom, who by this point, had almost given up on her son if not for the neighbors giving advice. They had said their son used to be like hers until they forcefully pushed him into the military. Ever since then, he's been nothing but responsible.

The young man in question is [Name] [L.Name]. The moment you heard you'd go into the military, you got pissed at your mom and locked the door to your bedroom-like basement for a few days. Refusing to eat and talk. This didn't do much other than starve you. The military was unavoidable by this point so, you had no other choice but to depart from home in just a few weeks time.

Today's your second day in the military. Well, you're at the very back of a huge crowd of men in uniforms. They had given everyone a pair of uniform to wear today but honestly, you just threw it on randomly, not even caring if some buttons were left unbuttoned. Somehow, you'd sneaked your phone in. Providing some entertainment as an old man, whom you don't remember the name of, explains the rules and laying out the schedule for your daily life there. You couldn't give less of a fuck. None of this matters anyways, you're going to be out in like what? A few weeks after the training's over. Maybe you'd even get out faster if you show your signature pout to your mom like always.

Scrolling on Twitter, you watch some sex videos without clicking on the video itself. You're a whole creep, but why dwell on it? You've given up on yourself years ago. This doesn't matter all that much. You could even feel yourself getting hard at the sight. You wish you hear them enjoying a good fucking right now. Unfortunately for you and your almost hardened dick, that wouldn't be possible. Even though you sneaked in a phone, you hadn't managed to sneak in a pair of headsets. How unlucky. Your eyes focus on the video, never moving from it even when the man's loud voice pierce through your ears. At the very least, you do know that he's an ex soldier who has fought in one of the many wars that has happened in the past decade. Not that you'd be able to do much with that information. Apparently he came here just to be a substitute as the actual instructor had gotten a serious illness and has a high chance of staying in the hospital for at least a few months, causing him to not be able to come and teach. You'd rather he shut the fuck up though. His loud voice is ruining your mood watching porn. "Jesus can he just shut up", you mumble to yourself, maybe one or two near you heard but not like they'd snitch.

Even in a serious situation, you manage to get hard. Although you're shameless, you're not shameless enough to masturbate infront of all these people. That'd be ridiculous. So, you try to hold yourself back. '10 more minutes...you can hold it' you think to yourself.

You scroll to a particularly sexually arousing video. It shows a man being facefucked roughly. Drool rolling down his chin as he's forced to take it all in, not being able to catch his breath. You can even feel yourself getting harder and harder by the second. You imagine yourself as the one on the receiving end. God how'd amazing it would be to have another man's cock down your throat like that, fucking it and putting you in your place. Just the thought of it is enough to make you twitch.

You hover your finger over the video and just as you're about to scroll. Thump! "I'm so sorry—", the man next to you who had just bumped your dominant hand on accident is silenced by the very loud sound of moaning and slurping coming from your device. You instantly freeze. Not daring or even able to move to close the video. All eyes are now on you as you're the source of the very out of place noises. Heck, you somehow notice the instructor stopping dead in the middle of his lecture just to stare at you through the crowd. Your eyes are still wide as you try your best to salvage what's left or your ego by closing the app entirely. Almost dropping it in the process. "Fuck..", you let out after holding in your words for a few seconds. You're so done for. With that, people begin to whisper just beside you as you can do nothing about it. The room gets noisier and noisier by the second until eventually...

"Silence."a manly and fierce voice commands. It sets the whole mood of the room as everyone turns to face the man in front of them, tense. You could do nothing but follow their move. "Today's lesson is over. Everyone may leave in an orderly fashion.", his tone leaves no room for complaints as everyone leaves quietly, shoulders tense. With you being last in line, he stops you before you even get the chance to make it halfway to the exit. "Not you, young man.", even though your brain tells you to leave, every single part of your body stops, not being able to get out of the dangerous situation. You only stood still as he went over to close the door. When he turns back, you can see his badge and finally identify him as Han Minho. Almost everything comes back to you. He's the soldier who played a crucial part in stopping the war 20 years ago. Here he is now, in the flesh, looking at you with almost a glare.

"You do know why I'm holding you back, don't you?", it's a question yet his tone doesn't seem like one. It's more of getting you to admit your guilt. Though, there's no way you'd admit something like that. "No", you try to avoid his gaze by looking elsewhere and distracting yourself with the walls and floors. He can only sigh at your refusal to admit what you'd done. As he reaches over to his desk to grab something, you take the opportunity to sprint to the door—anndd you're pinned to it. So much for getting out the door, you're not trapped between the door and Minho. You shouldn't have underestimated his strength and agility even for a second as that caused this. "And where do you think you're going? I don't remember letting you off", he hovers over you, you practically have to tilt your head up a bit just to be face to face with the man.

The room remains dead silent for another 10 seconds until Minho finally breaks it. "Give me your phone", he demands, holding his hand out to take it away from you. "That's my property, why should I give it to you?", you try to push him off with your phone still in your hands. He snatches it away and even when you try to grab it back, he has enough ability to keep you away. Seeing as you have a password set, he decides to grab your dominant hand and use your finger to unlock the phone. You tried resisting but of course his strength is outmatched. He immediately goes to your twitter page, finally finding the source of the disturbance in his lecture.

"...so. This, is what you've been up to during my lecture.", he stares at the video, hardly impressed. He looks back at you, "you got turned on by this?", he clealy spots your arousal under those uniform pants. He's merely pointing it out. You shake your head no once more, can't he just let you go already..."Darling, even I have a bigger one", he seems to be pointing out the fact that his dick size is bigger compared to the guy getting sucked off in the video. You scoff, the dick in the video's at least 5-6 inches, what is he even on. "Alright old man, I'm just going to head out with my phone", you try to take the phone out of his hand as he holds it near you uet to no avail. His grip doesn't waver as you try to pry the phone out of his hand. "I don't recall asking you to head back?", his eyes are oh so intimidating as he stares into yours. In a split second, he manages to pull you infront of the desk. "Get on your knees", he lets a chilling smile spread on his face. A smile that sends shivers down your spine, your knees getting weaker by the second. You still refuse and try to put on a brave face which only frustrates Minho more. "Unless you want me to spread this? I can assure you, anything that comes out of my mouth will be spreading like wildfire.", he shakes your phone a bit. He isn't wrong nor exaggerating. Anything coming out of his mouth is bound to reach the ears of your parents and maybe even close friends. You can't let that happen!

Reluctantly, you get on your knees infront of him. You look up at his tall figure, wondering what he wants or even gain from this. His hands reach over to his zipper as he slowly and teasingly zip it down. "W-wait!", you try to stop his hands by overlapping them with yours. He waits for you to continue your sentence yet you cant find the words to express what you want. "Why are you hesitating? Isn't this what you want? You're already hard", he points out your hard-on, straining against your pants. You can't respond to it as it is true you're hard and needy. With a simple yank, your hands fall back on the ground as he finishes undoing his pants. He slips his hard and long dick out. It's very close to your face, hell, it even almost slapped you. After a few seconds, you could tell his dick is definitely bigger than the one you had just seen a couple minutes ago. "What? Cat got your tongue?", he has a smug expression on his face due to how quiet you became. "Why don't you take care of my cock if you have nothing else to do?", he raises his eyebrows as his eyes lower into an intimidating gaze. "And don't use any teeth", rather than a request, it felt more like a threat. You put your hands around his cock and start to slowly lick the head ever so slightly. Not having prior experience in sucking nor licking cock, you do such a bad job at it that it gets a yawn from the man whose hard cock you're tending to. "Is that the best you can do? At least try putting half of it in your mouth", you try your best to fit half of his cock in but of course it's a bit hard. When it is in, you begin to suck and lick his cock. Trying to ignore the fact you feel like you're about to choke if you keep it in any longer.

"That's better, good boy", he praises and calls you a pet name. He takes out your phone and begins to record you sucking his cock. For a few seconds, you don't notice ad you're too focused on sucking his dick. When you do notice, you try to back off and remove his cock from your mouth. This ends up with him grabbing your hair and pulling you back, taking his whole cock in your mouth, the tip of your nose touching his happy trail. Your face contort in a mixture of gagging and somewhat pain. You so desperately want to get his dick out of your mouth but he keeps your head firmly there. Not moving at all for maybe 5 seconds. Even when he does let you move, it's just him guiding you back and forth. Your hair is super messy now due to him gripping it so hard, thrusting his hips into you, making you take it in your throat. "You're doing such a great job...ah...", he grunts and moans. The hand holding your phone is very still, making sure to get the best view of his dick going in and out your mouth.

You can even taste some of his precum in your mouth. Both of you can tell he's close to his climax. The way he thrusts faster and faster gives it all away. All you can do is hope that he cums faster. As his grunts and moans get louder, his hand almost loses grip on the phone. "Agh..ah..'m cumming..don't swallow,,agh yet!", cum starts to pour into your mouth, a lot of it. It almost overflows and due to your mouth being wide open, some of it drips on the ground in-between the two of you. You close your eyes as you can feel the warm liquid enter. When Minho pulls away, there was a sticky string that connected his cock to your mouth. He pants while you try your best to close your mouth without swallowing any. "Look at me", you look up at him as his fingers part your lips without using any force. It reveals your mouth full of his cum. Finishing the recording, he takes a picture of your face with his cum dripping out your mouth before telling you to "swallow."

He eventually returns your phone back to you after tidying himself up. "Clean up this mess you've made. I expect you to be on your best behavior next time." He walks past you towards the door. "If not, there will be more where that came from", he doesn't even look at you as he says those words. Only letting a little chuckle and walking away, the door closing as he does, leaving you all alone with cum all over the floor and your phone.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A couple of months later, you find yourself making more and more friends. They aren't your close friends in any way but it's nice having a handful of people to talk to as you go through the intensive training together. Ever since the incident, you find yourself avoiding the mistake you had made before. Fortunately, you manage to keep your phone on you rather than having it confiscated by Han Minho. Even though you never notice, Minho has always been paying more attention to you than others. Perhaps he's trying to catch you on your phone once more for another round. Regardless, whatever the reason is, you're oblivious to it.

Your routine stays the same. It's the same old routine for everyone there anyways. Get up at 5AM, get ready and have a bit of breakfast before the morning training. Have a few hours to yourself where everyone's free to do anything they would like. Then it's lunchtime before going back to training.

The cafeteria is busy due to everyone flocking to it in order to fill their empty stomachs. The sound of people chstting away, muttering and even whispering to one another, fills the whole room. You take a seat next to one of your buddies. "How'd you guys sleep?", you ask, trying to start a conversation before biting down on your sandwich. The whole incident behind you. "Eh, I've slept better nights", one answers that starts a chain reaction of people agreeing. You can see where they're coming from. The whole training's tiring not to mention boring. The table's silent for a moment until someone perks up. "Hey! I know what we should do!", he looks at everyone with anticipating eyes. Everyone, including you, look at him confusingly. "We should have a little fun before going to bed, that'll make us sleep better and not be bored", he recommends excitedly. You all looks at one another before nodding. "Sounds like an idea but...what should we do?", you tilt your head to which he replies with a smug expression.

The clock tick tocks as it points at 22:48. It's usually when people are already sleeping after a long day of training. But not you and your friends though. You're all wide awake sitting on the floor with a water bottle. It's just the beginning of the game your friend had suggested. It's a bit tense due to the fact everyone's sacred of being caught, especially if it's by the Han Minho. He's scarier than everyone in the training combined. Once he says something, everyone shuts up and listens or at the very least keep up the act of listening even is they aren't. "Let's whisper for now, what if he's out on patrol in the hallways..we'll be absolutely fucked", the man next to you, Tae, suggests. As he says this, he leans into the middle in order for everyone to hear and raising his right hand at the side of his mouth. Everyone nods in agreement as the game starts quietly and slowly.

"Joon, truth or dare?", Tae starts the game, pointing at the friend sitting across from the two of you. He pauses for a moment and proceeds to pick 'truth'. It's what anyone would pick, really. Tae doesn't hesitate to ask him a question. It seems as if he's been holding this in for a while. "Is it true that your dad's a close friend of Han Gyogwan-nim?", Joon shares the same energy as he immediately nods excitedly. "Yeah! And you guys wanna know something?", he gathers everyone while leaning into the circle. Everyone does the same as he gossips, "I heard he used to have a wife before she left him", some chuckle while others look in disbelief, "how come? He's honestly kinda...", another person in the group, Jaehyun, chimes in. Insinuating that their instructor's good-looking which isn't entirely false. "I'm not quite sure", Joon backs away from the gathering, "something about not being able to get it up", now everyone's snickering, someone as intimidating as him, not being able to get hard? What a joke. Well, it sounds like a joke to you anyway. If he isn't able to get it up, how the fuck was he stuffing your mouth with cock and cum just a few months back?

Moving on from the first question, everyone gets a bit more comfortable now that Joon's revealed a secret of their oh so intimidating 'boss.' Hell, they don't even try to be quiet anymore, some talking in their normal voice and some even outright laughing loudly. Thankfully for everyone in the room, Han Minho isn't around to hear their loud noises.

It's been a couple rounds since the first. Everyone knows to be as quiet as possible while still having fun. "Spin it!", you nudge a guy next to you. Tae bends to spin the bottle in the middle of the circle. It spins for a bit before stopping at you. "[Name]! Truth or dare", he turns to ask you to which you confidently reply with "dare of course", with a cheeky grin. They all begin to discuss on what to dare you to do. "Go commando until tomorrow", as Tae says that, they all begin to laugh. To you, it's nothing major. You've done that a couple times in the past anyways, it's quite comfortable.

1:20AM...

2:41AM...

3:00AM.

Remembering you all have to wake up at 5 and also the fact that everyone's tired as shit, you along with the others head to bed and close the very dim light source, leaving the room almost pitch dark. You're so comfortable that in just seconds of closing your eyes, you fall into a deep sleep.

Maybe too deep of a sleep due to the fact you don't wake up in time for training. Nobody came in to fetch any of you which is quite strange to say the least but none of you minded due to the fact you're all catching up on some good old sleep. Even when it's already 5:20, not a single soul in that room is awake. Some are snoring, some are quiet, some even have their blankets thrown onto the ground. You're alnost sprawled out on the mattress with drool escaping from your mouth.

The ever so dark room is then pierced by the door opening. A tall figure appears at the doorway. The sudden light wakes up a few, with them rubbing their eyes and yawning as if they aren't 20 minutes late. "Hm? What time is it", your friend asks, still yawning and adjusting his eyes to see who it is that has woken them up. "Get. Up.", his eyes meets the glaring ones belonging to Han Minho. Their instructor. This immediately wakes them up, checking the time and seeing it's way past when they're supposed to get up. Even when they're still sleepy, they fight the urge to go back to bed and instead pick themselves up, practically sprinting outside, past Minho. Most of them went out. All but one [Name] who is still sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of...dirty things. Turning the dim lights on, the man steps closer and closer to your still sleeping figure. Your peaceful face contrasts his dissapointed and frustrated one. He pulls off your blanket roughly. Due to the fact you're having a wet dream and how you're not wearing any underwear, your erection can be seen clearly by the older man.

Not long after, lustful noises coming from you can be heard. 'Even in your dreams, you're still a horny bastard.', is what Minho thinks of. Though, he can't deny that your beautiful noises have made him hard. He still thinks of that incident every single day. Hell, he even jerks off to the thought of it every night. Without someone to satisfy his needs, he resorts to you and the thought of you.

God all he wants to do right now is flip you over and fuck you senseless but he must keep his composure as best he can. You're asleep afterall. Using his index finger and thumb, he reaches over to pinch your cheek, hard. This wakes you up almost immediately, it really hurted! "Ow ow!", you push his hand away as you open your eyes. Sitting up, you rub your cheek as your eyes try to focus and see who it was that did this to you. "Han Gyogwan-nim!?", you yell outloud, shocked at the man's presence. He shuts his eyes in annoyance. "Be quiet, you're going to alert the others", you look at him in confusion, "do you want me to help with your little problem over there?", he vaguely points at your 'problem'. You look at the direction he's pointing at and realizes you're hard...but so is he.

He notices as you oogle at his clothed cock which is straining against his pants. "How about we help each other out?", he suggests, putting a knee on the soft mattress. Eventually, he's in between your legs, face just inches away from yours. Blush covers your whole face. You don't know what to do. What could you do..?

His body slightly brushing your already hardened cock makes you even more tense and aroused. He presses his lips onto yours.

You instinctively put your hands on his shoulders, wanting to push him away but at the same time, melting into the kiss. You stay there, conflicted as his hands trail closer and closer to your pants. The only piece of clothing protecting your bare ass from the rough man. Just as you're getting used to this..position, the door almost swings open. With all your strength, you catch Minho off guard and shove him into your blanket. Thankfully for the both of you, by the way the door is facing, the large lump in your blanket isn't too noticeable, you can brush it off as you just sitting up.

Joon stands in the doorway, making a loud noise as he calls out for you, "[Name]! Quick! Didn't Han Gyogwan-nim come here to wake you up too!? We're going to be dead by the time we get to the training grounds!", he is about to approach you when you stop him. "Please sta—! aGH."

From inside your blanket, you can feel a certain man's fingers reaching their way into your boxer-less pants. Reaching behind and fondling; gropping your ass as it searches for your hole. You gasp at the action. In just a few seconds, his finger is already plunging itself into your tight hole. "[Name]..? Are you okay? Sick?", Joon asks with a worried look but also confused. You put your hand up to your mouth, muffling out any unintentional sound that might come out of your mouth. "U-uh..ye-yes, I am..", you agree with him. He sighs, "I'll inform Han Gyogwan-nim, eat the medicine over by the cabinet, he might might not agree to let you off scot free the next time you miss training..", little does he know, that 'Gyogwan-nim' is currently 2 fingers deep in your hole, twisting and turning inside you to find your prostate. You can only sit there and take it as you should. You really wsnt to bury your face into the pillow right now in order to properly conceal your facial expressions from Joon but that's not possible at the moment. One wrong move and who knows what Minho might do.

"Do you have a fever?", he steps closer once more, this time, too close for comfort. Coincidentally, at this moment, Minho finds your prostate, making you jerk in pleasure, "aH..!", you shut your eyes, biting on the inner part of your lip while stopping Joon with your hand. Signaling a stop with it. "Are you sure you're okay...? You're really weird right now man", "p-please give me some time...", you can barely hold in the noises you so badly want and need to let out. Joon eventually walks away with a weirded out look. He'll get over it soon.

The door closes behind Joon and you can feel Minho's fingers getting faster and faster. In and out of your hole, trying to get you to cum. You throw your head back, closing your eyes and finally letting out those moans Minho's been wanting to hear for so long. Though, just as you're about to cum, Minho stops as if he knew you would. Your breath hitches and you look back to face the man who has just removed his fingers out of you. His expression displays sadism. It's clear that he loves seeing you like this more than anything. "We can't have you cumming that fast now can we? It'll be no fun", he starts to remove his belt and then pants until he reaches his boxer. You can only watch him impatiently, wanting his cock deep inside you already and so does he.

Once his dick is freed from the clothing covering it, he wastes no time and flips you over on your belly. "Ass up", he commands and by whatever readon, your body feels compelled to do what's told. With your ass facing him, he plunges his fat cock into you. If it weren't for you pushing him a bit with your hand reaching back, it would have already gone deep inside you. Fortunately, it's only halfway there. He chuckles knowing his cock is too big for you to even handle. Neither one of you knows whether it'll fit or not. "Fuck..", he curses as he feels your hole squeezing his cock. Oh how long has he been waiting for this feeling. To be inside of you. He can't wait anymore. Even with you putting your whole strength into trying to keep him in place, he can overpower you quite easily. With a simple push, his cock slides in all the way in, balls deep. You can feel your eyes roll back, trying to form a coherent word. You've never taken anything this big before, especially not in your ass. Minho looks absolutely satisfied. Words can't explain the amount of pleasure he feels and will be feeling in a few seconds. "T-too big...", finally being able to talk just a few words, you state the obvious. You can even see his cock bulging just a bit above your belly button. It's too much.

"I'm going to move now", he immediately gets to it. Thrusting in and out, moving his hips. Your poor hole is sure to be thoroughly stretched after this. Your warn insides welcoming his cock by squeezing so tight, almost not wanting to let go. You don't contain your loud moans, letting them all out. It's like music to Minho's ears, to know you're enjoying every bit of it just like he is. He groans due to how tight you are. You bury your face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of moans due to it being the morning, not to mention the door being unlocked. If someone were to enter the door right now, they'd be face to face with you and your hole being stuffed full of cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud. Afterall, Minho is being extra rough with you. Maybe he's punishing you, or, he could be rewarding himself with you due to how long he's held back the urge to just pound you infront of everyone during training. His thrusts get faster and faster until you think it's inhumanly possible for him to be fucking you this hard. Your moans and yells are muffled by the soft pillow. One hand has a firm grip on your waist while the other gropes your ass, loving the feeling of your squishy and soft skin. "You love this don't you, [Name]", he chuckles in between breaths, a smirk on his face as he knows you can't reply. You can feel your mind go blank as he moves his hips. Your hands can only tightly hold the sheets and blanket next to you.

"Agh..Take my seed like a good boy..!", his voice shaky, clearly about to reach his limit. As he thrusts back in, his cum fills your insides. He stays there with his dick inside you as it pumps all his cum deep inside of your hole. At the same time, you also manage to cum, splurting all over the mattress. Coating the off white sheets with your thick cum. You pant, catching your breath, not able to process anything in your cock filled head. Minho places a hand over your stomach, holding you up and to make sure his cock is still inside as he leans down on your back, also trying to catch his own breath. "Good boy, you took me so well", you turn to look at him. His satisfied expression and even more satisfied cock.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Everyone, listen up.", the manly voice commands the whole room. Everyone stands up straight, paying attention on the owner of said voice. "I will not tolerate anyone else being late. Once the clock hits 5AM, I expect all of you to already be here.", he walks around infront of the perfect lines. His gaze is sharp. He allows no room for jokes. You stand at the very front of one of the lines. Occasionally, his eyes meet yours. Everytime you do meet eyes, there's a slight smirk on his face. Unnoticeable by everyone but you. You can't just ignore it. The both of you know why he's in such a good mood.

"This is the last time I'll tolerate any of you being late. There will be severe consequences the next time someone is. Understood?", Minho glares at the crowd. "Understood!", they all say in unision. He nods in approval. "Very well then. Today, everyone will get more rest, and we will begin training tomorrow.", he dismisses the whole training, leaving everyone confused as he walks back into his office. Everyone looks around in astonishment. Tae and Joon immediately go up to you. "Are you feeling better? Thank the heavens Han Gyogwan-nim decided to be nice today. What's that about anyways???", Joon asks with a confused look, just like any other soldier in training.

"Why're you so tense?", Tae points out as you don't have time to answer Joon's questions. You avoid eye contact as it gets a bit awkward. How could you not be when you have so much cum inside of you right now? Cum which belongs to none other than Han Minho. This is your punishment, he wants to see how long you'll last before you come crawling to him again for more cock. "N-no reason!", "relax!", Tae pats you on the back. You accidentally unclench and feel his cum dripping down inside your long pants. Who knows, maybe someone will notice. Maybe that someone will be a certain instructor. You're in for a long day and night.

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I hope you all like him! I don't have a lot to say about this man since it's almost 4am for me and I need sleep...

Please dont mind typos/grammar mistakes, I didn't have enough time to check the whole thing cuz I wanted to release it before going to sleep🥲

[rifari2037]

The idea of her being mother figure is challenged right from episode one when Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Okay, that's right! That's spot on! I don't deny that Aang makes Katara act like a child again for a while.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Fire Nation. Sokka : We should tell him. Katara : [Yelling.] Aang! There's something you need to see. Aang : [Aang runs to them from the airball court, still playing with the hollow ball. Cheerfully.] Okay! Aang : [Happily runs up.] What is it? Katara : [Innocently holds her hands behind her back.] Uh... Just a new waterbending move I learned. Aang : Nice one! But enough practicing, [Excited as he turns around and start walking away.] we have a whole temple to see! Sokka : [Brushes the last of the snow from his head and shoulders.] You know, you can't protect him forever.

It's only the third episode, but Aang's childish attitude already makes Katara act like a mother protecting her child from reality. Katara also has to calm Aang down when he goes into avatar mode, it happens several times like it's her responsibility to do so.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Resumed filling the pot with more vegetables.] Watching you show off for a bunch of girls does not sound like fun. Aang : [Disappointed.] Well, neither does carrying your basket. Katara : [Annoyed.] It's not my basket. These supplies are for our trip. I told you, we have to leave Kyoshi soon.

This scene actually piss me off, like, if I were Katara I would mad too! And again, Aang's irresponsible and childish behaviour forced Katara to be responsible for doing the chores. If not her to be mature, who else? Sokka who is busy with his misogyny towards the Kyoshi warriors? Or Aang who is busy having fun with his fans?

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Aang ran away after someone blamed him for something he actually did a hundred years ago. Katara must find him in the storm, then help him dwelling with his past.

And it happens again in The Awakening. Aang runs away and triggers Katara's another trauma that forces her to grow up, which is being abandoned by the person she cares about (her father). Katara (Sokka and Toph) must find him and save him.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Disappointed.] Wow... there's hardly any in here. Aang : [Lashes out.] I'm sorry, okay! It's a desert cloud; I did all I could! What's anyone else doing?! [Pointing his staff at Katara.] What are you doing‌?! She returns his attack with a shocked look on her face. Katara : Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

Katara is the only one who can keep the Gaang out of the desert. If she doesn't act mature and responsible with the Gaang, they might not survive. And what does Aang do? Get mad at her for losing Appa, while Katara is not to blame for it.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Aang, we do understand. It's just ... Aang : Just what, Katara? What? Katara : We're trying to help! Aang : Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it! [Walks away.] Katara : Aang, don't walk away from this. [Walks toward Aang.]

I love Katara, you know, that's why I really don't like Aang pointing angrily at Katara and blaming her every time he got emotional, when Katara didn't do something wrong and just wants to help him. Is this a healthy relationship?

Aang reminds Katara that she's just a child in the first episode, but unfortunately, the Gaang (especially Aang) once again forces Katara to be motherly in the next episodes.

Does she like being motherly? No, she doesn't. She wants to have fun too, but if she did, the Gaang would be screwed. Being motherly is not just her nature, but the Gaang (except Suki) forces her to be more mature than the others narratively.

Actually, that's why I like the idea of Momtara and Dadko. In my opinion, this nickname is not to make her forget she is just a kid. Instead, because the narrative itself always shows Katara forced to act motherly toward Gaang, 'Momtara and Dadko' shows that is not only Katara's responsibility to do all chores.

Calling Zuko Dadko is also reasonable, because he is narratively more mature among the Gaang (except Suki). He focuses on Aang's training and worries that Aang will fail, just like what father usually do to his son.

More than that, Katara doesn't need to act motherly with Zuko - he is the one bringing her things and preparing what they need in their journey contras with what Aang did in Kyoshi Island. And they act more like equal partners toward each other, rather than mother and son.

Oh, it's true that Aang makes Katara child again in first episode. But it's weird to defend Kat/ang and hate the narrative of Katara being motherly at the same time, when the Gaang (especially Aang) often forced Katara to act motherly.

[aritsukemo]

There goes my baaaabyyyy | Multiple Characters

Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, and Sae Itoshi

Summary: After seeing an abundance of tiktoks about the Usher trend, you decide to try it out on your unsuspecting boyfriend after a while of not seeing him

Warnings: This is the author's attempt at being funny so crack ahead. I apologize in advance.

A/N: Idk what came over me today, but I decided to waste my time writing this anyways after getting inspired by this amazing slideshow on tiktok talking about how each Haikyuu character would react to you doing the Usher trend. This is also my first time writing for Sae ( and I also know virtually nothing about him as I've only seen season 1 of Blue Lock ) so I'm sorry if he's ooc. I just realllyyy wanted to add him as I've been thirsting over edits of him ( and Reo ) for the past day or so.

A sigh of relief escapes through the chapped lips of the soon-to-be world cup competitor Isagi Yoichi. After hard fought battles during the preliminaries and all the stress and trials that come with it, it was finally the time for Isagi to return to his safe haven. He was hesitant for a time as he was still riding the adrenaline rush and wanted to stay back and train with some of the others, but since Bachira was returning to Japan to visit his mom and celebrate with her, it reminded him that he also had someone to return home to; you.

And so, after the longest thirteen hour flight of his life, he was now walking, suitcase in hand, alongside his best friend as the two of them exited the baggage claim and was nearing the lounge where you were allegedly waiting for him.

It had been so long since he's seen you, touched you—held you.. He finds himself wondering, how much has changed? Has your laugh changed at all? Have you switched up your sense of style? Maybe your hair? Do you still taste like the honeyed, buttered pancakes you used to make him every morning? Is your smile still so wide that it creases your cheeks and makes them pudge out more? Do your eyes still gaze at him as if he was made out of gold like they used to?

As he dwells on his thoughts, the yearning for you seeps in more and more like oil filling up a tank. It's heavy and it's only when he's just about to succumb to the weight of it all that he realizes just how much he's truly missed you.

And it seems that he wasn't alone in this feeling.

As he stepped into the lounge, he's met with his first and only warning. A warning that came in the familiar tune of the audio of a certain tiktok you had sent him a week prior before you came sliding his way on your knees. Your voice raised to match the exact pitch of the audio as you sung the infamous lyrics until you came to an abrupt halt when you collided with his stomach, nearly knocking him over with the force you hit him with.

And the only thing he could fathom to do was to stare like a deer in headlights and say, "Uh...what in the world?!"

Bachira couldn't possibly hope to contain his laughter any longer after that.

After seconds of Bachira's wheezing and airless chuckles, it was only when he was beginning to grip his stomach from the pain of his amusement that Isagi finally realized what just happened. And when he did, his entire face flushed a cherry red.

"What- Why are you doing this right now of all time?" He asked, semi-shouting as he grabbed the upper part of your arms—which were wrapped around his waist.

"I missed you, baby~!" You said in a sing-songy voice. And, as you looked up at him with your eyes shining with the familiar gleam he knew just as that same trophy-awarding smile stretched across your face, he found himself faltering for a moment. His shoulders slumping as he began mumbling shyly..

"I- I.. I missed you too.. But please, get up! People are starting to give us weird looks.."

Three months. That's how long it's been since you've last seen him.

Well, that's technically not true. If you wanted to be less dramatic, you could admit that you saw your boyfriend just last week on tv doing his signature dribbling moves and if you wanted to really be frank, you had seen his gorgeous face up close just the other day when he facetimed you and informed you that he'll be home that following afternoon. You could also make it sound much less extreme by simply confessing that you had regularly spoke to Bachira throughout these three months via text and that he'd facetime you at least one a week.

But you didn't want to count any of that.

I mean, sure you got to see him, but you didn't really get to see him. You weren't able to kiss his cheek whenever they perked up and flushed pink. You couldn't run your fingers through his layered hair and watch the satisfying transition of his brown strands turn yellow between your fingertips. You weren't able to hold his chin and watch in awe and fondness as he laughed toothily like a baby kitten..

You haven't seen him, not in all his glory which, to you, was like not seeing him at all. That said, three months of that torture was unbearable.

But all of that pain was forgotten in a matter of seconds at the odd sound of drums playing in the distance.

You didn't have any time to react to—or rather, process—what was happening or prepare yourself before Bachira got a running start towards you and soon dropped to his knees, sliding the rest of the way up to you with the biggest smile on his face—all while Usher's voice boomed behind him from his back pocket.

You had no choice but to accept fate and allow the love of your life to crash into you and completely knock you to the ground.

As the biting cold of the airport's tiles crept up your skin and all the air was just about knocked from your lungs from unexpectedly hitting the flat surface, Bachira stared down at you from above, cheeks dusted pink which made him look like an excited little kid.

"Hey, babe! It's been so long!" He chirped before coming down to press all his weight onto you as he caged your torso with his arms, his face immediately nearing yours to press a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

If it had been any other situation that he had done this in, you'd probably be annoyed from the embarrassment of having basically half the airport staring at the two of you like you were a bunch of buffoons or, at the very least, the fact that his team was laughing up a storm in the background...but having been as starved of him as you were, all you could do was laugh while relishing in the feeling of his warmth consuming every part of your body as he leaned down again to plant a feverish kiss to your lips.

Feet tapped against the small tile floors of the elevator, thumping against the marble in a rhythm that embodied the very dread of its owner.

After months of dreading this day, Sae had, once again, stepped foot in Japan; a notion he refused to even utter aloud from just how much he despised it.

For a man with such negative opinions about his homeland, his reasons for coming back were quite frivolous in comparison. Though if asked, he lie and say that his passport expired—which wasn't wrong—but deep down he knew the real reason for his return; his partner who he was too prideful to call the love of his life.

It had took some time, and for a while, Sae was forced to come back here every other year or so in secret to visit them per their request, but at last, they had decided that so much time waiting for his semi-yearly visits were too much for their poor heart and that they were ready to take the next step and leave with him to Spain.

Sae had pushed the thought to the very back of his mind, but he was more than glad—overjoyed, even—when you told him of your decision over the phone as he himself was starting to grow restless without you by his side at times.

He had already went through the process of renewing his passport so all that was left was to pick you up and drive to the airport—well, get driven to the airport—where he could finally leave this horrendous country, this time with you snuggled up by his side.

But he should've known that you wouldn't have let things be so simple.

As the doors to the elevator opened and allowed him to, at last, step foot into your lavish home, the symphony of his demise began to rang throughout it and bounce of the walls. Sae paused, face contorting into one of visible perplexment before his eyes widened at the sight of you sliding on your knees towards him, mouth opened as you sang to the beat of the music blasting throughout your home.

Your performance was short, glorious, and came to an end when your face was buried into the smooth fabric of your boyfriend's clothing and you smoothly wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's waist.

And it was only a full minute after such an amazing performance that it finally dawned on him what you were doing. And to that, he simply sighs disappointedly.

"I've changed my mind. You're not going anywhere with me," He said, and despite the blunt tone he douses his words in, it does little to your dazzling smile as you knew full well his words held little weight to them. You find yourself playing into your own bullshit anyways, though, as you begun to whine out in a high pitch you just knew he couldn't stand.

"Aww, but why? All I did was greet my pookie--" "Finish that sentence and I will actually leave you in Japan for another ten years."

You promptly shut your mouth after that, much to Sae's relief.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover—monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

-ˋ ♡ ◞ simon riley. call of duty. a family fic with simon riley ? real and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

[dunebrat]

PAST LOVERS ୨♡୧

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you return to his planet years later to lay your mother to rest, only to find Feyd, once a boy now a man. You struggle to reconcile the memories of the boy you once loved and he is determined to take you back as his.

────────────────────────

As you step off the shuttle onto the dusty surface of Arrakis, memories flood back of your time here, memories filled with warmth and pain, all centered around him, Feyd Rautha. The boy you once knew, the one who captured your heart among the harsh sands of this his planet. Years have passed since you last saw him, since you made the painful decision to leave, to escape. Back then, he was just a boy but he was your first everything, love, kiss he even took your virginity but your family left Arrakis in search of a better life, a life free from the constant danger. As a child, you witnessed firsthand the brutality of life under the rule of the Harkonnens, the constant struggle for survival in their environment.

But it was more than just the oppressive regime that drove your family away. It was the violence. Despite their best efforts to carve out a life for themselves, they knew that staying meant risking everything they held dear. So when the opportunity arose to leave, to seek refuge on a distant planet far from the reach of the Harkonnens, they seized it without hesitation. It was a chance for a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the pain and suffering of their past and start afresh. And though it meant leaving behind everything you knew, everything you loved, you knew deep down that it was the right decision. For the safety and well-being of your family, you were willing to leave behind the only home you'd ever known, to venture into the unknown in search of a better future. But now here you are 7 years later back at your birth place to lay your mother to rest on her planet. She had fell sick a year ago sadly. Grief weighed heavy on your heart, with the bittersweet memories of your childhood on the desert planet.

But as you watch him now, standing tall and commanding, the years have transformed him into a man. His features are chiseled, he’s way taller now, and his aura is so dark. It's both intimidating and mesmerizing. You can't help but notice the change in him, how the years of training under his uncle has hardened him, turned him into someone you barely recognize. Gone is the carefree boy who you thought once loved you. In his place stands a man who is cold and distant. It was as if with each passing day, his uncle's influence seeped deeper into his soul, twisting him into someone unrecognizable.

Yet despite the bitterness that lingers in you, there's still a spark, a connection that refuses to die. As your eyes meet his across the crowded room, you were determined to ignore him, to shut out the memories of your past together and focus on the task at hand. Every time you felt his eyes on you, you forced yourself to look away, to steel yourself against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. But you couldn't afford to dwell on the past, not when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

And as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching you. Then, one evening, as you found yourself alone in the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his voice cut through the silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been looking for you," he said, his tone low and husky.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. There was a hunger in his eyes, a fierce intensity that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the sound of his voice after so long apart.

"Feyd," you breathed, your heart pounding in anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark and intense as he studied your face. "I've missed you" His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel the familiar pull of attraction. He leaned in close to whisper into your ear "I want you."

Seeing him so close you can see he had grown into his features. His body now more muscular and defined than before. He ran his hands down your back as you leaned in to kiss him passionately on the lips.

"No," you said firmly, stepping back to put some distance between you. "This... this isn't right." His expression darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with anger.

"I mean," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion, "that I can't just forget everything that's happened between us. I can't pretend like nothing has changed." you say, your voice trembling. He stops in front of you, his eyes burning into yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and strength that he exudes.

It's almost overwhelming. His eyes darken

"After all the mercy I’ve shown you and your family" he growled

"What do you mean" you squinted confused

"When you left me, I could’ve had you’re whole family killed and you returned to me. But I knew somehow or something would bring you back" He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your throat in an instant. You gasp, the air being cut off from your lungs. He leans in close to you, his breath hot on your face as he whispers into your ear, "You're mine."

You can feel his grip tighten around your throat, cutting off the air to your lungs. You try to gasp for breath but it's no use as he holds you in place with a firm hand on your neck. You can feel your body starting to tremble as the lack of oxygen starts to take its toll. Your vision begins to blur and you start to see spots in front of your eyes, but still he holds on tight.

He lets go and you fall on the ground gasping for air

"He grabs your arm and pulls you up to a standing position, his eyes dark with desire." I'm going to have my way with you again and again until you learn that I own you now" You can feel his hot breath on your neck as he leans in close, and you know what's coming next. He bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking into the flesh. You cry out in pain and pleasure as he sucks hard at the wound, leaving a mark that will be there for days to come.

"I couldn't help but notice," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "how much you've grown, how... how beautiful you've become." his eyes trailing over your body with an intensity

His words caught you off guard, he sounded more calm. "I've missed you," he said softly, his voice laced with longing. "I've missed us. And I'm not willing to let you slip away again."He reaches down and grabs your hips, lifting you up off the ground. You can feel his cock pressing against your entrance as he positions himself to enter you from behind. He thrusts into you, his cock filling you up in one swift motion. You cry out as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, pounding away at your pussy with a fervor that's almost animalistic.

You can feel his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust, and you know that he's going to make you cum hard. He reaches around and grabs your tits, squeezing them hard as he continues to fuck you.

"I want you to have my child". You look up at him with wide eyes, your mouth still full of his cum. He grins down at you," You, little one. Are mine forever and ever."

He’d been thinking about breeding you the second he saw

Defeated you whispered "Im yours, Take me however you want to take me."Just please don't hurt my baby if we make one together" He grins down at you again.

"ll be gentle with you, little one." "I promise."

Taglist ⭐️

@aaaaaamond

@meetmeatyourworst

@mamawiggers1980

@wo-ming-bai

@szapizzapanda

@avidreader73

@moonsoulk

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@scarl3tt-000

@kristel1990

@neobangverse

@18lkpeters

@abswifey

@shynovelist

[freelancearsonist]

the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak. // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid. 

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

➔ beta: @futuraa-free (thank u honey i love u)

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[jaeyunluvbot]

this love

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 exes to lovers, joshua x reader, also partially mingyu x reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 10.1k

part one

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua stepped off the plane, the cool air of New York sweeping over him as he entered the terminal. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the bustling energy of this city felt like it was pressing in on him, in a way that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here, but this time felt different. There was a strange weight to the air as though the city itself was carrying something he wasn’t prepared for.

The hum of conversation, the footsteps of hurried travelers, the flashing billboards just outside the windows—it all felt so vibrant, so full of life. And yet, beneath the excitement and the rush, there was a quietness to his heart, a tug in the back of his mind.

This city reminded him of you.

He shifted the strap of his suitcase, moving through the crowd. Bright lights, hurried people, and the constant motion—the life of New York was contagious. But it wasn’t just the city’s pulse that caught him off guard. It was the way everything about it seemed to echo the parts of you he had loved so much.

You had always been like the city to him—full of energy, always moving, always chasing the next thing. Your smile, the way you carried yourself in a room, the way you could command attention without even trying. That’s what you had been to him, a force of nature that made everything feel brighter.

And now, just stepping into this city, he could almost hear your laugh again, see the way you’d look at him with that mischievous smile, eyes lighting up like you were always in on some secret. He could almost feel your presence in the air around him, but it was a presence that hurt now, a sharp reminder of what they had lost.

Joshua let out a slow breath, trying to ground himself. “You’re not here for her, Joshua. Don’t go looking for her.”

It was pointless, he knew. You had your life, and he had his. There was no going back, not after everything. You were in New York now, though, living in the same city he was. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to dwell on the possibility that they might cross paths again. The city was huge, the chances of seeing you again were slim to none.

Still, it seemed like fate had a way of pulling the two of you back together, no matter how far apart you’d tried to stay.

He pushed through the terminal, his thoughts spinning as he made his way to the taxi stand. The whole business trip had been planned months ago, and it had seemed so clear-cut then—a professional trip to oversee the opening of a new office, a straightforward task. But now, with New York sprawling before him, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past bearing down on him.

He stepped into the cab, the engine rumbling to life, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the city. New York had always been a dream of yours, hadn’t it? The energy, the endless opportunities. And even though their paths had diverged, it was impossible to forget that part of hyourer dream was still alive in this city.

But the cab was moving now, the streets of New York unfolding before him, and with each turn, each new block, Joshua felt something tug at his chest. A sense of familiarity, a longing he couldn’t fully explain. The city might be full of strangers, full of business and distractions, but he couldn’t help but wonder: could it ever really feel like home again?

He let out a long sigh and glanced out the window, forcing himself to focus on the purpose of the trip. But the more he tried to push the thoughts of you away, the more they seemed to take hold.

And this time, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what might come next.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua had spent the last few days wandering the streets of New York, letting the city become his guide. He walked for hours, sometimes aimlessly, sometimes with a purpose, just to get a feel for the pulse of this place. He’d taken a few cabs, gotten lost a couple of times, and explored neighborhoods where the air smelled different from what he was used to. It was all part of the process of settling in, of finding his way in a city that, despite being filled with people, felt strangely isolating.

He hadn’t gone near your neighborhood, not yet. He had promised himself he wouldn’t. Too many memories tied to that area, too many things that still felt fresh and raw. And he assumed you still lived with your parents, living your life, doing what you always had. There was no reason to go looking for a ghost of the past when he had his own life to rebuild.

But even as he tried to avoid the places that had once been familiar, he couldn’t help but feel that pull. It was New York, after all. A city of millions, yet somehow, it always seemed to bring people together, whether they were ready for it or not.

It was on a lazy afternoon when he wandered into a department store, aimlessly browsing through a few racks of clothes, that he saw you.

He didn’t notice you at first—just a flash of movement in the aisle. Then, his eyes caught sight of the way you laughed, the way you tilted your head back as you chatted with your friends. That laugh. It was unmistakable, like a sound from another life that had been buried deep in his memory. But it was real. It was here, right in front of him.

Joshua froze.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The lights, the busy customers, the gentle hum of conversation—it all faded as he focused on you.

You looked so different. Yet so much the same. Your hair, now a bit longer than it used to be, caught the light as you moved through the store. Your smile was still bright, infectious, that same twinkle in your eye he used to adore. But there was something else—something he couldn’t quite place. You were glowing, like you had grown into yourself in a way he never imagined.

Time had done something to you, something he hadn’t expected. You were still the girl he once knew, but you’d grown, matured in a way that took him by surprise. You had become someone else, someone so much more than he remembered. It was as if the city had worked its magic on you too—turning you into something even more radiant than before.

His breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he didn’t know whether to move closer or to turn and leave. But before he could make up his mind, you laughed again, your voice cutting through the air, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.

God, how long has it been?

Two years.

He hadn’t expected to feel this way—hadn’t expected to feel like the time between them had been nothing but a blink. But here you were, standing in front of him, and for a moment, he wondered if the world around him had shifted in a way he couldn’t understand.

You still hadn’t noticed him. You were too busy with your friends, your back to him as you flipped through some clothes on a nearby rack.

Joshua’s gaze lingered on you for just a little too long, and then, as if his body was on autopilot, he took a step backward, moving quietly toward an aisle to the side. He wasn’t sure if you’d even seen him, but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this, not after everything that had happened.

As he walked away, his mind raced. You were still here, living your life in a way he couldn’t quite grasp. You had moved on, just as he’d tried to. But seeing you now, in the light of the city, so full of life—it made everything feel as if it hadn’t changed.The city, the memories—it was all there, wrapped up in the image of you standing in that store, looking so different and yet still so you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The first few months in New York had been tough. Moving back in with your parents at twenty-six hadn’t exactly been the picture of independence you'd envisioned for yourself. After leaving California—leaving him—you’d felt like a shell of yourself. Work had been the only thing keeping you afloat, a routine you clung to like a lifeline. Wake up. Go to the office. Come home. Repeat.

But even the most rigid routines couldn’t keep the ache at bay. The nights were the hardest—quiet and heavy, full of thoughts you’d tried so desperately to avoid. You’d wonder where he was, what he was doing, if he ever thought about you. Those first few weeks, it felt like every corner of your mind was occupied by him, by the love you had lost, by the life you’d imagined that had unraveled in an instant.

Then, your friends had found out you were back. Friends who had known you since you were young, who remembered the girl you were before Joshua, before California. They refused to let you wallow.

They dragged you out of your parents’ house, insisted you join them for brunches, walks in the park, late-night karaoke sessions that left you laughing so hard your sides hurt. Slowly, they helped you piece yourself back together.

You started to remember who you were.

Now, two years later, you hardly recognized the girl who’d come back to New York feeling broken and lost. Your job as a PR agent was amazing, the kind of position you’d dreamed of when you first started college. The cushy salary afforded you a beautiful one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, decorated with warm, neutral tones and little pops of color that reflected your personality.

You’d finally found stability. Confidence.

You’d grown up in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You understood now that Joshua hadn’t left because you weren’t enough or because you’d done something wrong. He simply hadn’t been ready. And that was okay.

That realization had been a turning point for you. Letting go of the bitterness, the insecurity—it had freed you to focus on what really mattered: taking care of yourself.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, though. There were still moments—quiet, fleeting—when something would remind you of him. A song you’d danced to together. The scent of his cologne on someone walking by. A fleeting image in your mind of his warm smile, the way his voice softened when he said your name.

But now, those memories didn’t hurt quite as much. They were a part of you, yes, but they no longer defined you.

Standing in your apartment one evening, you looked out at the city lights, the skyline glimmering like a promise in the distance. This city had seen you at your worst, but it had also witnessed your transformation.

You were happy here.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Vernon had been the first friend to find out you had moved back to the city. Your parents, worried about you, had called him after you’d locked yourself in your room for an entire weekend.

“I heard you were back,” he’d said casually, as though two years of silence between you hadn’t passed. “We’re getting bagels tomorrow. No excuses.”

You’d tried to decline, mumbling something about needing to rest or having work, but Vernon had simply said, “Eight a.m. Don’t be late,” and hung up.

That was Vernon for you—low-key, no-nonsense, and always there when you needed him, even if you didn’t realize it yourself.

That breakfast had turned into weekly meet-ups, then spontaneous hangouts, and eventually, him reintroducing you to the rest of your childhood friends. He never pushed, never asked you about Joshua unless you brought it up first. Instead, he let you heal at your own pace, offering the kind of quiet, steady support that only Vernon could.

“Look at you,” he said now, leaning back in his chair as you both sat at a small café near your apartment. “Living your best life. I’m so proud.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I wouldn’t say I’m living my best life.”

“You’ve got a great job, your own place, and you’re killing it out here. Don’t undersell yourself,” he said, raising his iced coffee in a mock toast. “To the comeback queen.”

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. Vernon had a way of making everything feel lighter, easier. He’d been your rock when you didn’t even know you needed one, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

“You know,” he said after a pause, a teasing glint in his eye, “you might actually be ready to start dating again. Or is the thought of Tinder still too terrifying?”

You groaned, throwing a sugar packet at him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, dodging the packet with a grin. “The Y/N I see now? She’s ready for whatever’s next.”

His words lingered with you long after you parted ways.

Whatever’s next.

You hadn’t let yourself think about that much—not about love, at least. You’d been so focused on getting your footing, on becoming the version of yourself you were proud of. But now, as you walked back to your apartment under the glow of the city lights, you wondered.

Maybe Vernon was right. Maybe you were ready.

You just didn’t know that "next" was closer than you thought.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Vernon had been annoyingly smug when you finally agreed to go on a blind date with one of his friends he’d been raving about ever since you got bacl.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, earning an exasperated eye roll from you.

Now, sitting across from Mingyu in the softly lit restaurant, you begrudgingly admitted Vernon might have been right.

Mingyu was handsome in that effortless way that made you feel a little self-conscious but also oddly flattered. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a crisp button-down, he radiated confidence without crossing into arrogance. And his smile—warm, easy, and ever-present—had you forgetting about the nerves that had crept in when you first arrived.

“So,” Mingyu said, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. “Be honest. Did Vernon have to bribe you to agree to this?”

You laughed, swirling the wine in your glass. “No bribe, but I did consider faking a work emergency.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Fair enough. I almost bailed too. Blind dates are…a gamble.”

“A gamble?” you teased. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dinner companion.”

“Clearly,” he said with a playful grin. “But I think I’ve won the jackpot tonight.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth creep up your neck. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, with an ease and sincerity that made you believe him.

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Mingyu had an endless supply of stories from his time as a chef, from disastrous kitchen mishaps to the joy of creating dishes that made people happy. He was funny, intelligent, and attentive in a way that felt refreshing.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the past. You weren’t analyzing every little thing, wondering what might go wrong. You were just here, sharing a meal with someone who made you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

As the waiter cleared the plates, Mingyu leaned back in his chair, studying you with a curious expression.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t know what I was expecting when Vernon said he had the perfect person for me, but I think I underestimated him.”

“Oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “What did he say about me?”

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine. “That you were smart, driven, and a little intimidating—but also one of the kindest people he knows. I think he was underselling you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, but you pushed it down, keeping your tone light. “Vernon does tend to exaggerate.”

“Not this time,” Mingyu said softly, his gaze steady on yours.

And just like that, you realized something. You weren’t thinking about Joshua. Not his laugh, not his smile, not the way he used to make you feel.

You were here, in this moment, and for the first time in years, you let yourself believe that you deserved this.

Deserved to be happy.

Deserved to move on.

As Mingyu flagged down the waiter for the check, you found yourself smiling, a quiet contentment settling over you. Maybe Vernon was right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

And yet, although you'd let the past go, part of you wondered if the past would ever let you go.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua had barely touched his food.

The dinner meeting was productive—great, even. The new branch’s partners seemed reliable, their strategies aligning seamlessly with his company’s vision. It should’ve been a win, but his focus kept slipping.

Maybe it was the restaurant. Too nice, too cozy, too intimate for a business dinner. Or maybe it was New York itself, refusing to let him breathe without conjuring up memories of you.

He sighed, pulling his attention back to the table as the others laughed over a shared joke. He forced a polite smile, nodding along when necessary. When their meal wrapped up, he rose from his seat, buttoning his blazer.

That’s when he saw you.

At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him again, the same way it had been since he arrived in the city. But no, it was you—standing just a few feet away, radiant in a sleek dress, your laugh lighting up the space around you.

And then his gaze shifted to the man beside you.

Tall, broad, effortlessly charming, the stranger was leaning in close, saying something that made you laugh again, your hand briefly resting on his arm. Joshua felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Joshua? You coming?” one of his colleagues asked, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he said quickly, his voice tight.

He watched as you and the man—your date, he realized with a pang—moved toward the door. He hadn’t intended to follow, but as fate would have it, both groups converged near the exit.

You froze mid-step when your eyes met his.

“Joshua?”

Your voice was calm, but he could see the flicker of surprise in your expression. The man beside you turned, curious but unbothered, as though meeting exes was just another Tuesday.

“Y/N,” Joshua managed, his tone polite but strained. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same here,” you said, your voice steady. You glanced at Mingyu and gestured toward Joshua. “This is Joshua, an old friend from college.”

Joshua’s stomach twisted at the casualness of your introduction. Old friend? That’s all he was to you now?

“And this is Mingyu,” you continued, motioning to your date. “He’s…we’re—”

Mingyu, ever the gentleman, stepped in with an easy smile. “I’m her date,” he said, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Joshua shook Mingyu’s hand automatically, the words catching in his throat. Date. Of course. It wasn’t like he had any right to be surprised—you had every reason to move on. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“Nice to meet you,” Joshua finally said, forcing a smile. “I hope you’re enjoying the city.”

“Oh, I am,” Mingyu said, glancing at you with a grin. “But I think Y/N’s making it better. She’s been showing me around a bit.”

Joshua’s chest tightened, the casual intimacy between you and Mingyu cutting deeper than he expected. He looked back at you, searching for something—hesitation, discomfort, anything that would tell him you weren’t as unaffected as you seemed.

But you stood there, poised and calm, as though seeing him was nothing more than a passing encounter.

“Well,” you said, your voice light, “we should get going. It was good to see you, Joshua.”

Before he could respond, you turned to leave, Mingyu’s hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you toward the door.

Joshua stood there, rooted to the spot, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background.

You looked happy.

That should’ve been enough for him. But as he watched you walk away, laughter floating back toward him, he realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t.

It never would be.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You refused to let Joshua’s sudden appearance rattle you.

The encounter at the restaurant had been startling, sure. Seeing him again after two years—looking as polished and composed as ever—had stirred up something you weren’t ready to name. But you had worked too hard to get to this point, to rebuild your life into something you were proud of.

So, as you slid into the cab with Mingyu, laughing at his exaggerated complaint about how hard it was to hail one in the city, you made a silent promise to yourself: Joshua Hong would not take up space in your mind tonight.

Or ever, if you could help it.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu said, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at you. “What’s next? Dessert? A rooftop bar? Or are you secretly a karaoke queen?”

You laughed, grateful for his easy charm. “As tempting as it is to traumatize you with my singing, I vote dessert. There’s this amazing bakery a few blocks from here.”

“Lead the way,” he said, grinning.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. With Mingyu, everything felt effortless—like you could be fully yourself without fear of judgment or expectations. You liked that about him. He was warm and steady, the kind of person who made you feel safe in his presence.

And maybe that was why you found yourself saying yes when he asked if you wanted to meet up again later that week.

The weeks that followed were filled with moments that reminded you how much you had missed this—dating, being open to new experiences, letting yourself feel hopeful about the future. Mingyu wasn’t just a distraction; he was someone you genuinely enjoyed being around.

He took you to hole-in-the-wall restaurants that became instant favorites, spent Sunday mornings wandering through farmers' markets with you, and made you laugh until your stomach hurt with his terrible jokes.

Eventually, somewhere between late-night conversations and stolen kisses, you became his girlfriend.

And you were happy.

Joshua, meanwhile, became a ghost of your past—a name you rarely thought about, a memory that no longer haunted you. You assumed he had left the city not long after you’d seen him. After all, New York had never been his kind of place.

Whatever his reasons for being here, they didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Because for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The holidays were always a busy time for you, but this year, they felt especially chaotic. Between work deadlines, planning Thanksgiving dinner with your mom, and finding the perfect gifts for everyone, your calendar was packed.

You were standing in the kitchen, helping your mom prep a pie crust, when she broached the subject.

“So,” she said, her tone casual but laced with intent, “I ran into Joshua the other day.”

Your hands froze mid-motion. “Oh?”

“Yes, at the market,” she continued, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you. “We chatted for a bit. He looked well, but it turns out he doesn’t have any family in the city for the holidays.”

You had a sinking feeling about where this was going.

“I was thinking,” she went on, carefully avoiding your gaze, “it would be nice to invite him to Thanksgiving. I mean, it’s not right for anyone to be alone on the holidays.”

You placed the rolling pin down and turned to face her. “Mom...”

Of course, it’s up to you,” she added quickly. “We wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But, you know how much we’ve always liked him. And it’s been years, hasn’t it?”

You sighed. She wasn’t wrong. It had been years, and you were pretty much over it—or at least you thought you were. Seeing Joshua at Thanksgiving wasn’t exactly on your holiday wish list, but you couldn’t deny that the idea of him spending the day alone tugged at your heart.

“Okay,” you said finally, though the word felt heavy in your chest. “He can come.”

Your mom beamed. “That’s my girl. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

But you weren’t entirely sure you believed her.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Later that evening, you sat across from Mingyu at your favorite café, stirring your coffee with a bit more force than necessary. You’d been mulling over how to bring it up all day, and now that you were here, the words felt tangled in your throat.

“What’s on your mind?” Mingyu asked, his gaze steady and warm.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, so... there’s something I need to tell you.”

He leaned forward, his expression curious but unconcerned. “Go on.”

“My family invited Joshua to Thanksgiving,” you said, watching his face carefully. “He doesn’t have family here, and they felt bad for him. I agreed because I don’t think anyone should be alone on the holidays, but... there’s something you should know about him.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded for you to continue.

“He’s not just an old friend from college,” you admitted. “He’s... my ex. We were engaged, actually.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with history and meaning.

Mingyu’s expression shifted, but not in the way you’d feared. There was no anger, no jealousy—just quiet understanding.

“Okay,” he said simply.

“Okay?” you echoed, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s all in the past, right? You’re with me now. I trust you.”

Relief flooded through you, but there was still a flicker of guilt in your chest. “I just didn’t want you to feel... threatened, or like I was keeping it from you.”

Mingyu reached across the table, covering your hand with his. “You’re telling me now, and that’s what matters. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving. Everyone deserves a little kindness.”

His words warmed something in you that had been cold and uncertain all day.

“Thank you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand.

“Of course.” He grinned. “But if he tries to steal the last slice of pie, all bets are off.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in hours. Mingyu was right. It was all in the past.

But as the holiday approached, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this Thanksgiving was going to be... complicated.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The smell of roasted turkey and freshly baked pies filled the apartment as you smoothed the last wrinkle from the tablecloth. The dining table, though modest in size, had been extended and covered in a cheerful autumn-themed runner. Plates and glasses were set with precision, every detail curated to make the space feel warm and inviting.

Your mom bustled around the kitchen, peeking into the oven and adjusting timers. Mingyu, ever the professional, was by her side, chopping herbs with practiced ease. Despite being a guest, he had slipped into the role of sous chef the moment he walked through the door.

“You’ve been running around all day,” Mingyu said as you adjusted the throw pillows on the couch for the third time. He set down his knife and gave you a pointed look. “Go get ready, Y/N. We’ve got it from here.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grinned, hands lightly pushing you toward your bedroom. “You’ve cleaned, cooked, and stressed over every detail. You deserve at least twenty minutes to make yourself look even more stunning than you already do.”

Your mom chimed in, nodding her approval. “He’s right, sweetheart. We’ll take care of everything out here.”

Reluctantly, you retreated to your room, shutting the door behind you. A soft pink sweater and your favorite jeans were laid out on the bed, simple but flattering. You took your time brushing out your hair and adding a touch of makeup. When you stepped back out, feeling refreshed and put together, Mingyu looked up from the stove.

His face lit up instantly. “Wow.”

Your mom glanced over her shoulder and gave an approving nod. “You look lovely, honey.”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you muttered a shy thank you. Mingyu walked over, brushing his hands on a kitchen towel before cupping your face for a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell buzzed. Guests were starting to arrive.

The apartment filled quickly with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the occasional clink of glasses. Your family filed in one by one, hugging you tightly and marveling at how wonderful everything looked. You moved between the kitchen and the living room, greeting each person warmly and ensuring everyone had what they needed.

You were setting down a tray of drinks when the doorbell rang again. Straightening your sweater, you opened the door to find Joshua standing there.

He looked a little nervous but composed, a bottle of wine in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile.

“Hi, Joshua,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on in. It’s good to see you.”

He handed you the flowers, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “These are for you. I wasn’t sure what to bring.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You gestured toward the kitchen. “Put the wine on the counter. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Joshua nodded, his gaze sweeping the apartment. “This place is really nice.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, trying to keep the interaction light. “It’s cozy, but it works for me.”

As he moved toward the kitchen, you turned back to greet another family member, letting the warmth and bustle of the evening carry you along.

Dinner was a lively affair. Plates were passed around, stories were shared, and laughter filled the room. Mingyu, sitting beside you, charmed your family effortlessly, joking with your cousins and complimenting your mom’s recipes.

Joshua sat a few seats down, mostly quiet but polite. You caught him glancing at you occasionally, his expression unreadable. You made a conscious effort to focus on the conversation around you, refusing to let his presence unnerve you.

At one point, Mingyu leaned over to whisper in your ear. “You’re amazing, you know that? This is perfect.”

You smiled, leaning into him slightly. “Thank you for helping. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Across the table, Joshua watched the quiet exchange, his chest tightening at the ease between you and Mingyu. He tried to focus on his plate, on the stories your uncle was telling, but his mind kept drifting.

The night continued with dessert and coffee, the energy never waning. When it was time to clear the table, Mingyu and your mom insisted you sit and relax. You ended up on the couch with your cousins, reminiscing about childhood antics and laughing until your sides hurt.

Joshua stayed on the fringes of the gathering, helping your dad with the dishes and making polite conversation.

As guests began to leave, Joshua found himself lingering near the door, unsure if he should say goodbye now or wait. Mingyu was by your side, his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, and you looked completely at ease.

When you finally walked him to the door, he hesitated.

“Thank you for letting me come tonight,” he said, his voice low.

“Of course,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” he said, though the evening had been anything but relaxing for him.

For a moment, it felt like he wanted to say more, but instead, he nodded and stepped out into the night.

As you closed the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Mingyu appeared a moment later, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning into him. “I’m fine.”

And you were—mostly.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Joshua closed the door to his apartment, the sound of it clicking shut echoing in the quiet space. He dropped his keys onto the counter and set the bottle of leftover wine he’d brought onto the kitchen island. The place was spotless, minimalist to a fault, but instead of feeling inviting, it felt cold. Impersonal.

He exhaled deeply, tugging at the knot of his tie and shrugging off his blazer. For a long moment, he just stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, his thoughts swirling.

The evening replayed in his mind, each moment sharper and more painful than the last. You, laughing at Mingyu’s jokes, your head tilted back in a way that made you glow. Mingyu’s hand brushing your arm, the way he leaned in to whisper something that had you smiling, cheeks warm with affection.

Joshua hated how easy Mingyu had slipped into the role he used to play—the charming boyfriend who could make your family laugh and feel at ease. It had been his place once, his hand in yours under the table, your parents shooting him approving glances, your little cousins climbing into his lap without hesitation.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. He’d been the one who left, the one who’d walked away from you, convinced it was the right thing to do. He thought time and distance would dull the ache, make it easier to accept that you had every right to move on. But tonight had proved him wrong.

Dropping onto the couch, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. He hadn’t expected it to hurt like this. The sight of Mingyu fitting so seamlessly into your world felt like a punch to the gut.

He’d been in Mingyu’s position once. He’d cooked with your mom in the kitchen, teased you about being a perfectionist, earned your dad’s trust and your siblings’ affection. He thought back to the countless holidays he’d spent with you, surrounded by warmth and laughter.

But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was the outsider, standing on the periphery of a life he no longer had any claim to.

The apartment felt stifling now, the silence pressing down on him. He rose to his feet, pacing the living room. He glanced at the window, the city lights twinkling beyond the glass. This city was supposed to be a fresh start, a place to build something new. But it only reminded him of what he’d lost.

He grabbed a glass of water and sat back down, staring into the distance.

What hurt the most wasn’t just that you were happy with someone else—it was that you seemed at peace. There was no bitterness in the way you’d looked at him tonight, no lingering resentment. You were kind, warm, even friendly. You’d moved on, and it was clear you’d grown stronger because of it.

And him? He still felt like a man stuck in the past, haunted by what could have been.

Joshua leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. He knew he had no one to blame but himself.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s a quiet evening, one of those rare nights when both of them have the evening off. You and Mingyu are sitting together on the couch in your living room, the soft hum of the city life just outside the window. You’re curled up next to him, but there’s an unmistakable tension in your posture. You’re quieter than usual, your gaze drifting off, lost in thought.

He glances at you, noticing the subtle shift in your mood. He pauses the movie you were watching, turning to face you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Something on your mind?”

You don’t respond immediately, fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. The weight of everything—your past with Joshua, your present with Mingyu, and everything in between—feels like it’s weighing down on your chest, carving a hole into you. It’s been a while since you had thought about Joshua, but the holidays had stirred up old feelings you thought you’d buried.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately... about everything.”

He shifts beside you, his expression gentle but serious. He knows something’s off.

“About us? Or... something else?”

“About him.”

His heart skips a beat, but his face doesn’t show it. He nods, giving you the space to say what’s on your mind.

“I thought I was over him. I really did. But sometimes... I don’t know. A small part of me... it still feels like I might always love him in some way.” You look at him, eyes filled with guilt. “I don’t want it to affect us. I love you, I really do. But... sometimes I wonder if it’s something I can truly let go of.”

There’s a long silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. He takes a deep breath, trying to process it all, before speaking softly, his tone steady.

“I know you’re still healing. And I know that your feelings for him were real. That love was real. I’m not asking you to forget him.” His voice remains calm, understanding. “What I want is for you to be happy. Whether that’s with me, or... if you feel like you need time to figure out your feelings. I just want you to do what feels right for you. I want you to be true to yourself.”

You look at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. You thought he’d be angry or hurt, but instead, he sounds like he’s trying to help you find peace.

“But what if you’re not enough? What if a part of me always holds onto him? That’s unfair to you.”

He squeezes your hand, leaning in closer. His eyes are soft, full of affection and care.

“I’m not asking for your love to be something it’s not. I don’t need you to love me like you loved him. I just want to love you in a way that helps you heal, not keep you stuck in the past.”

Your eyes are glossy now, tears threatening to fall. You want to give him everything, but the weight of the past still clings to your heart, keeping you in limbo.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He gently cups your face, brushing away the tear that escapes with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you need me to. But I also want you to be happy, whether that’s with me or without me. I love you, and I want what’s best for you.”

Your heart aches hearing him say that. You know he loves you—you can feel it in every touch, every word. And yet, you also know you have to face what’s buried deep inside of you. The part of you that’s still tied to Joshua, whether you like it or not.

You lean into his touch, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need time. Time to figure out what I really want... without rushing. I don’t want to make any decisions when I’m not sure.”

He nods, his expression a mixture of sadness and relief. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here. But don’t feel like you have to rush to figure everything out. Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

You look up at him, a deep sigh escaping your lips. You know this isn’t going to be easy, but you feel a sense of comfort in his words. Whatever happens, you have time. Time to heal. Time to understand what you truly want.

And for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You step into your favorite coffee shop, the one where the walls are lined with shelves of old books and the scent of freshly ground coffee always seems to settle into your soul. It’s a comforting place, a spot you’ve spent countless hours in, both alone and with friends. And today, you need it more than ever.

Vernon’s already sitting by the window when you arrive, his signature half-smile lighting up as soon as he sees you. He waves you over, and you drop into the chair across from him, your hands absently playing with the edge of your sleeve. You know he’s been watching you for a while, noticing the subtle shift in your mood, the way your thoughts seem to be miles away lately.

“Okay, talk to me,” he says, his voice warm but insistent. You can see the concern in his eyes, even if he’s trying to keep it light. “You’ve been off lately. And I can already guess why.”

You try to shrug it off, but it feels like a weight in your chest. You haven’t told anyone, but the moment Joshua had walked into your life again, even if it was just for one night, everything you’d thought you’d moved on from felt so much more complicated.

“I don’t even know where to start.” You take a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten as you speak. “Mingyu’s been so understanding, but I can’t stop thinking about Joshua. It’s like… like part of me is stuck. I love Mingyu, I do, but… I don’t know. There’s still a part of me that will always care about him. Maybe I’ll never stop loving him.”

Vernon watches you quietly, his gaze steady. You feel like he’s already figured out the direction this conversation is going, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just lets you talk, lets the words spill out.

“I feel like I’m betraying Mingyu just thinking about Joshua. But I also feel like I’m betraying myself if I don’t face it, you know? It’s just... so much.”

You pause, your voice faltering a little. Vernon leans back in his chair, eyes thoughtful. You know he’s been your friend for years—he’s seen you through the ups and downs, the heartbreaks and the happy moments. He knows how important it is for you to be honest with yourself, even when it’s hard.

“I knew something like this was coming,” he says quietly, his tone almost too calm. “You never really let go of Joshua, did you?”

You bite your lip, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I thought I did. But maybe... maybe I just buried it. I don’t know. Seeing him again made me realize how much of me was still tangled up in those feelings.”

Vernon’s eyes soften, but there’s no judgment in his gaze. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Loving someone doesn’t just vanish because time passes. But it also doesn’t mean you can’t move forward.” He pauses, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “It’s not about forcing yourself to stop loving Joshua. It’s about figuring out what you want. Whether that’s with Mingyu, or by yourself for a bit, or... I don’t know, maybe with someone else. But it has to come from you, not from what you think you’re supposed to do.”

You feel like the world just got a little clearer. Vernon always had a way of cutting through the noise, of getting straight to the heart of things without overcomplicating them.

“I guess... I just need to decide what makes me happiest,” you murmur, staring down at your coffee cup as you swirl it absentmindedly. “But what if I don’t know what that is? What if I can’t make a decision without messing everything up?”

Vernon leans forward, his eyes intense, but his voice soft. “You can’t avoid it forever. But you can take your time. Don’t rush it, Y/N. You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t owe anyone an answer right away. You just need to listen to yourself, and the answer will come. It’s okay not to have it all figured out right now.”

You nod, feeling the tension slowly ease from your shoulders. Vernon’s words are a relief, even if they don’t make everything clear. They give you permission to feel, to not have to have all the answers just yet.

“You’re right,” you finally say, the knot in your stomach loosening a little. “I guess I’ve been trying to avoid the truth for so long that I didn’t realize it wasn’t about fixing everything, but about understanding it.”

Vernon smiles, his usual playful grin returning. “Exactly. And remember, whatever you choose, I’ve got your back. No judgment.”

You let out a breath, grateful for the simplicity of his support. You realize, with a little more clarity than before, that the road ahead doesn’t have to be so overwhelming. You don’t have to force any decisions. You just need to take it one step at a time. And no matter where you end up, you’ll have the people who care about you, like Vernon, guiding you along the way.

“Thanks, Vernon,” you say softly. He grins and lifts his coffee in a toast.

“Anytime.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next few days pass in a blur. After your conversation with Vernon, you feel a sense of relief, but that clarity doesn’t come overnight. It’s not that you’re afraid of the truth—it’s more like you’re afraid of facing it too soon, of rushing into something without fully understanding what it means.

Life moves forward, and in a way, so do you. You throw yourself into your work, meeting with clients, attending events, living your life. Mingyu’s presence in your life is steady, reassuring, and kind. There’s a warmth between you both that feels so natural, so comfortable. You laugh with him, share quiet moments, and everything about your relationship with him feels easy.

But then, you catch yourself sometimes, still thinking about Joshua.

It’s not the first time you’ve had moments like this—where you catch yourself remembering how things used to be between you two—but the frequency is different now. They’re more frequent, and the moments are sharper, clearer. And, each time, it’s like your heart beats a little faster in those quiet moments when you catch yourself missing him.

It’s not even about wishing things had worked out the way you wanted them to. It’s not about regret. It’s about the way he made you feel—the way he understood you in a way no one else ever did.

You remember the quiet, cozy nights you spent together, the way he’d laugh at your bad jokes, how he’d rest his head on your shoulder during long drives, the way he could always make you feel like everything would be okay, even when everything was falling apart.

And you start to realize something—those moments, those memories, the way he made you feel—are still alive inside of you. They're not just memories of a past life. They are a part of you.

As you sit on your balcony with a glass of wine, the city lights twinkling below you, your phone buzzes. It’s Mingyu, asking if you want to meet for dinner tomorrow. You smile at the message, heart light, and yet, when you go to type a reply, you hesitate.

For the first time in weeks, a thought crosses your mind that you can’t shake. Am I really letting go of Joshua?

It doesn’t feel like guilt, not exactly. But it does feel like something is missing, like you’re trying to keep moving forward, but a part of you is still looking back. And that part isn’t easy to ignore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Then, one day, after a busy meeting, you find yourself walking past a café you and Joshua had always gone to when you’d visited the city. The memory comes rushing back in a flood—his laugh, the way he’d always get extra whipped cream on his coffee, his habit of teasing you about how you always had the most ridiculous requests at the counter.

You pause outside the café, suddenly overwhelmed. A wave of nostalgia swirls through you, soft and lingering, like a shadow of something that once was. You let out a breath and step inside, the familiar scent of coffee beans and pastries filling the air. You sit at the same table you used to sit at, sipping your own coffee. For a moment, everything feels like it’s frozen in time, as if nothing has changed.

And then it hits you. The sudden realization doesn’t come with panic, or regret. It’s more like a quiet understanding, a subtle truth you’ve been avoiding.

The truth is, you still love him. Not in the same desperate way you loved him before, not in the frantic, consuming need to have him back in your life. But there’s a part of you that’s never really let him go.

The thought doesn’t sting like it used to. It’s not even painful anymore—it’s just there, settled into your chest like a permanent mark, something that’s been carved into you. It’s a love that’s glowing in the dark of your heart, a faint, steady light that’s always been there, even through all the changes and the years that have passed. It’s a mark you didn’t ask for, but one that you’ve learned to live with. A love that, despite everything, will never truly leave.

You don’t waste any time. The moment you make up your mind, you know you have to talk to Mingyu. This isn’t fair to him, and you can’t keep carrying the weight of these feelings without being honest.

You find him in the small restaurant he likes to go to when he needs a break from work. It’s quiet, and there’s a warmth in the air from the soft glow of the hanging lights. The kind of place where the world feels a little slower, and it’s easier to think.

He looks up from his coffee as you slide into the seat across from him, his eyes lighting up for a moment before they settle, sensing the seriousness in your expression. He doesn’t need you to say anything for him to know that something’s on your mind.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “About us.”

His brow furrows, but he nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“I can’t... I can’t keep doing this to you. I feel like I’ve been unfair. I’ve been holding on to something that I should’ve let go of a long time ago, and it's not fair to you."

Mingyu looks at you, a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Y/N...” he murmurs, reaching out to rest his hand on yours. You don’t pull away, but his touch feels different now—timid, careful.

“I still love him,” you say, the words tasting bitter and raw as you say them out loud. “I thought I was over it, thought I could move on, but... he’s still there, in my heart. I don't know how to explain it, but I can't ignore it anymore."

Mingyu’s expression doesn’t harden. If anything, there’s a tenderness to the way he listens to you. He knows you better than almost anyone. He knows that you don’t make decisions like this lightly. But there’s a sadness in his eyes too, a kind of quiet hurt that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your hand. “I... I knew something like this would happen, Y/N. I knew the moment he came back into your life, you’d be torn. I guess I was just hoping... hoping that it wouldn’t matter, hoping I could be enough.” He shakes his head a little, like he’s trying to laugh it off, but there’s no humor in it. “But I get it. I really do.”

Your heart breaks a little, seeing how much he’s trying to hold it together. But you know, deep down, that it’s the right thing. Mingyu deserves someone who can love him completely, without any lingering doubts about the past.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say, feeling a lump form in your throat. “You’re amazing, Mingyu. You really are. But I can’t keep pretending that I’ve let go of Joshua when I haven’t. And I can’t keep you in limbo.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His hand squeezes yours one last time, and then he lets go. “I think we both know what needs to happen. I care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I could. But I want you to be happy, truly happy. And if it’s not with me... if it’s with him, then you have to go after that.”

You stare at him, your heart aching as you realize how much he’s letting go of. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, smiling softly, but there’s a sadness there too. “You don’t need to apologize. I knew what I was getting into. And I meant what I said... I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

The weight of the decision sits heavily on your chest. But at the same time, it’s a release. You’ve made up your mind, and you’ve made the choice that feels right—no matter how much it hurts.

Mingyu stands up then, offering you a last, lingering look. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”

You nod, but the words feel stuck in your throat. You watch him leave, knowing that you’re walking away from something good, something that could have worked... but it’s not the thing.

And now, with a clear heart, you know what you need to do next.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After breaking up with Mingyu, you feel a weight lifted, but at the same time, there's a gaping hole in your chest, a kind of emptiness that’s hard to fill. You never wanted to hurt him, but you also know that you can’t keep running from the past—especially not when the past is currently in your city.

You try to keep yourself busy, focusing on your work, keeping up with your friends, but every so often, your mind drifts back to that night at Thanksgiving—the way Joshua looked when he walked in, how his gaze kept shifting between you and Mingyu, the quiet distance that grew between you two in the hours after.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and you’ve thought about reaching out to him more than once. You’ve wondered if he’s still in the city, if he’s still staying in that empty apartment. You wonder if he’s moved on, if he’s forgotten all the things that used to matter to both of you.

One night, when you’re heading back home after a long day, your phone buzzes with a message. You don’t recognize the number at first, but when you open it, your heart skips a beat.

Hey, it’s Joshua. I know it’s been a while. I’m in the city for a little longer than expected, and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up for coffee?

Your fingers hover over the screen, uncertainty flooding your chest. You’re not sure if you’re ready for this—if you’re ready to face him and untangle all the feelings that have been buried for so long. But then, you remind yourself: you’ve already made your decision. You’ve made peace with Mingyu, and now, this is just a conversation with someone who was once everything to you. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.

You take a deep breath and type out your response.

I’d like that.

The meeting is set for the next day. It’s a cozy little place, the same place you used to go when you’d sneak away from high school for coffee and talk about your dreams. You arrive early, sitting at the table near the window, watching the rain softly tap against the glass. The café is quiet, and the smell of fresh coffee fills the air.

You see him before he sees you—his broad shoulders, his walk, that familiar way of running his hand through his hair. When he spots you, his expression softens. His eyes look tired, but there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place.

He sits down across from you, offering you a small smile. You can’t help but smile back, despite the tightness in your chest.

“You look good,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod. “So do you.”

The silence stretches between you two, both of you unsure how to navigate this conversation. There’s so much history between you, so many unspoken words. The years spent apart have changed you both, but there’s still a familiarity in the way you look at each other.

“I... I didn’t know how to reach out,” he admits after a while, his voice quiet, the weight of his words heavy. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to hear from me.”

You take a deep breath, leaning back in your chair. “I didn’t know if I was ready to hear from you either.”

He looks down, clearly grappling with his own feelings. “I’m sorry for how everything ended,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I wasn’t.”

The apology hits harder than you expect. You knew it was coming, but hearing him say it out loud brings back everything—the hurt, the confusion, the unanswered questions. You’ve spent so long trying to piece it together in your mind, and now, hearing it from him, it feels both relieving and painful.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say, your voice steady. “We both made mistakes. I’m not angry anymore, Joshua. I just... I had to move on.”

As you sit across from him, your heart heavy with memories, you find yourself reflecting on everything that’s led to this moment. You feel the weight of the past, the good and the bad, the love that once felt so natural, so easy, but also the pain of it falling apart. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the rim of your coffee cup as you consider what to say next.

“You know,” you say softly, your eyes meeting Joshua’s, “this love we had... it was both good and bad. There were so many great moments, but then there were times when it hurt more than I could handle.”

Joshua’s eyes are searching yours, his face filled with an emotion you can’t quite place—hope, guilt, maybe a little bit of both. He doesn’t interrupt, just listens, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about us,” you continue, your voice steady but soft. “And sometimes, love just... doesn’t work out the way you want it to. You can try to hold on, but sometimes, you just have to let it go.”

You can see his face change, but there’s no anger, just understanding. He knows what you mean.

“And I did,” you add, almost whispering, “I had to let it go. I thought that was the only way for me to move on, for me to heal. I didn’t want to keep holding on to something that was only hurting me.”

Joshua nods slowly, his fingers fidgeting with the handle of his cup. “I get that. I do. But... you don’t have to let go forever. Sometimes, when you let someone go, they come back to you. If it’s meant to be.”

There’s a brief silence, the words hanging between you both, heavy with meaning. It’s almost as if time slows down for a moment, allowing both of you to understand the full weight of what’s being said.

“That’s the thing,” you say, your voice quiet but resolute. “I think I had to let it go... because I had to learn to let go of the past. But now, looking at you... looking at us, I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s true. Maybe when you really let go of someone, when you give them space to grow, they can come back to you. And it doesn’t erase the pain or the mistakes, but it’s a chance for something new, something different.”

Joshua’s eyes are softer now, the tension that had been in his posture earlier slowly starting to ease. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m not asking you to forget everything that happened or pretend it didn’t hurt. I just want a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m not the same person I was before.”

“I know,” you say, nodding slowly. “And I’m not the same either. But maybe, just maybe, this time... this love can be something better. I’m not sure what it looks like yet, but I’m willing to find out. I think, for once, we’re both in the right place.”

There’s a quiet understanding between you both, a silent agreement that neither of you wants to rush. The love you had, the good and the bad, the way it glowed in the dark and left a permanent mark on your hearts, is still there. But now, it’s different—more mature, more thoughtful.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out. The past doesn’t define you anymore. You’ve both grown, you’ve both learned, and if it's meant to be, the love will come back to you—stronger this time, in a way that it couldn’t have before.

As you sit there, staring at him, you realize that sometimes love doesn’t just fade away—it evolves. And when you’re ready to accept it for what it is, and what it can be, it might just come back to you. Maybe not the way it once was, but with something new.

Joshua leans forward, his hand gently resting on yours, and you feel a familiar spark. It’s not the same spark you felt years ago—it’s warmer now, softer, more knowing.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice low but steady. “This love has always been ours. And I’ll wait, however long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. Hell, I'll even fill out a permanent transfer application at work."

You smiled once again, taking his hand fully in yours, "We'll figure it out."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 yall i literally cooked so hard with this one, lowkey made myself emotional while writing it.

masterlist.

[minminyoonjii]

hiiii i really love your skz writings and had an idea for a request. the pairing is 3racha x afab!reader.

so in the beginning they’re all having sex. like 3racha had a rough day and take it out on reader a little. at first readers really loves but when the slaps on the butt get too hard and too many, the grip on her body parts get too tight, the 8th orgasm is too much and reader suddenly gets chocked it gets too much. reader says the safeword. so it’s smut to angst to fluff cause id really love a happy ending where 3racha comfort reader and reader comforts 3racha with aftercare as well.

i hope you like my idea!!🙌

take care💗💗

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: Needy men equal to multiple orgasms. It's not your fault that they like dragging every last bit of pleasure from your body.

🌹CW

Blowjob|Squirting|Multiple Orgasms|Very Rough Sex|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Fingering|Dirty Talk|Threesome|Cum Eating|Cunnilingus|Safewords|Spanking|Choking|Mating Press |Commanding Tone|Teasing|Dom! Changbin|Dom! Chan|Degrading Praise Kink|Free Use Aes|Manhandling|Exhibitionism|Daddy Kink|Reader Likes It Rough|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.5K

"Baby," Jisung whined, plopping onto your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, "Ji?" you chuckled, rubbing his ears. Jisung hummed, burrowing his face into your tummy, "Channie hyung was so mean today," he complained, kissing your belly button. "I was not," Chan scoffed, brushing his hair back. You giggled, squishing Jisung's sulking cheeks. "Hyung, have you heard of lying? I want the baby to comfort me," he grumbled, clinging closer to you. Changbin sighed, "Sungie, you know better than to lie for pity," he said, pulling Jisung off your lap. 

Chan clenched his jaw, frustration still dwelling in his mind, "Princess could you help us?" he asked, his eyes hooded and dark. You gulped, sitting straighter. "Yes, Daddy," you said, loving the chance to bring them pleasure. Chan chuckled, patting your head, his fingers tugging on your hair slightly, "Get on your knees for me, yeah?" he instructed, sitting down where you sat as you kneel between his thighs.  

You sat patiently, waiting for his command. Chan hissed, tugging down his sweatpants, his throbbing cock slapping against his torso, "Put your mouth to work, princess," he chuckled, brushing back your hair. You eagerly licked the base of his cock, your tongue flattened as you trailed upwards. Chan groaned,  resting his head back against the couch. You smiled wrapping your lips around his pulsing throbbing cockhead, drawing a loud grunt past his lips. 

You whimpered at his reaction, bobbing your head. "Hah, fuck. Princess, hollow your cheeks," he grits, pushing your head down. Your whines vibrated down his veiny hot shaft, his balls tensed up from the  pleasure. "Shit, ah!" he growled, using your hair as leverage to fuck up your mouth. You slacked your jaw, taking in his girthy length, his cockhead brushing against your uvula. A loud squelchy pop echoed within the room when his tip penetrated past your throat. 

Chan clenched his teeth, "Fucking hell, you feel so good. Your little mouth was just meant for taking cock isn't it," he growled, wiping the tears dripping down your cheeks as he quickened his pace. Your gags spurred his arousal, "Take it. Take my fucking cock," he grunted, thrusting his hips. You clawed his pants, breathing heavily past your nose. Chan growled, pulling you off his cock, "Good girl. Such a good girl," he chuckled, slapping his cockhead against your tongue. 

You stuck your tongue out, catching your breath, "Good?" you whimpered, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks. Chan lightly slapped your cheek, "Very good," he cooed, spitting onto your tongue. You gulped down and nuzzled his palm. Jisung pumped his cock within his palm, "Come straddle my cock, baby," he smirked, tugging the tip of his precum slicked cock. You shakily got up, and did as told, "Ride?" you asked, tilting your head.

 Jisung nodded, tugging down your shorts, "Messy girl," he chuckled, rubbing between your drenched walls. You moaned, grinding your hips at the briefest hint of pleasure, "Please Sungie, I'm loose enough," you whined, clenching around his fingers. Jisung chuckled, grabbing waist, "Okay, okay," he cooed, letting you align his cock before thrusting into you. "Hah, hah, yes," you moaned, sinking down to the hilt. 

Jisung kissed your neck, "Relax, baby. You don't have to do anything my precious little cocksleeve," he groaned, gripping your hips enough to bruise as he pounded  your cunt at a relentless pace. You arched your back, wailing at the sudden quick thrusts, "There, there, hah," you babbled, clenching around his veiny cock. Jisung hissed, manhandling you onto the couch, your legs over his shoulders, "Cum for me, baby. I know you're close," he grits, thrusting his  cock deeper in his position. 

You wailed aloud, cumming around his shaft. Your cunt fluttered around his throbbing cock, "Good girl," he chuckled, rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrust, "Come on baby, give me another," he smirked, fucking your tight little cunt deeper. His cockhead kissing your cervix. You tossed your head back, "Can't , can't too much," you cried, quivering within his hold. Jisung clicked his tongue, "I know your body better than you do, baby. Cum for me now," he growled, pinching your swollen clit. 

You sobbed, creaming around his girth. Jisung hissed, cumming  deep within your womb, his cockhead pressed against those sensitive bundles of nerves, forcing another orgasm from your body. You sniffled, tears dripping down your cheeks. Jisung cooed, kissing your tears away, "Aww my little girl," he chuckled, kissing you softly.   You melted into the kiss, his lips softer than his actions.

 Jisung pulled away and gently eased out of your dripping cunt, "I'll come back for you, baby," he said, sending you a flying kiss. You giggled at his antics and made eye contact with Changbin, "Bin," you whined, making grabby hands towards him. Changbin chuckled, "I'm here," he said, rubbing your cheek. You beamed, a dopey smile etched on your lips. Changbin kneeled between your legs, "Jisung left quite a treat," he whispered, his voice heavy and breathy. 

You gulped, staring at him between your  thighs. Changbin licked your puffy clit, "Sweet," he smirked, seeing your legs tremble. He circled your clit with his tongue, the roughness of his appendage made your cunt clench, pushing out Jisung's hot load. Changbin eased three fingers up your hole, "Can't have them go to waste," he growled, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. You arched your back, your hands pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples. 

Changbin sucked  on your clit, his tongue flicking in tandem with his fingers. The tip of his fingers curled against the sensitive bundles of nerves. "Cumming, cumming, hah," you whimpered, gushing around his fingers. Changbin licked his lips and  licked between your folds, "More," he groaned, thrusting his tongue within your hole. You yelped, clenching around his tongue, "Hah, shit, shit," you cried, fucking your hips back. 

Changbin growled, drinking in your slicked mixture, his tongue cleaning your ribbed walls. You clawed your tummy, "Hah, hhgh, ah. Fuck Bin!" You cried out, squirting onto his face. Changbin pulled away, chuckling softly, "That quenched my thirst," he teased, wiping his face with a towel. You panted, covering your eyes with your arms. Chan licked your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. You shuddered at the buzz of pleasure. 

"Surprised, princess?" he asked, pulling you onto his lap. You burrowed your face between the crook of his neck. Chan smirked, cupping your chest, "Rest, bubs. Daddy's got you," he soothed, his cock heavy and hot between your sensitive folds. He carefully eased his cock up your fluttering ribbed walls. You mewled, nipping his neck as your body enveloped his girth. 

Chan hissed, thrusting up your canal. "I'll make this quick," he growled, fucking upwards with a brutal pace. You sobbed, clawing his arm. Chan growled, wrapping his palm around your neck, "I know you can take it, princess," he grunts, quickening his pace. Changbin smirked, pumping his cock to the sight, "Let me help," he chuckled, slapping your ass with a firm spank. 

You choked on a moan, clenching hard around Chan's hot cock. "Again," Chan growled, keeping his relentless pace. Changbin did as told, spilling into his palm, "Hah, ah, fuck," he groaned, spanking your plush skin. You cried out, squirting hard around Chan's cock. Chan growled, forcing his cock deeper, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, coating your inner walls white. Your eyes rolled back, quivering hard. 

Chan began thrusting again, to coax another orgasm out of you when "Red! Red," you sobbed, clawing the hand around your neck. Chan released his hold, his breath hitching. You cried into his chest, gripping his shoulders. Chan looked at Changbin, "Towel," he instructed, gently rocking you. "Hic, huh," you sniffled, nuzzling his jaw. Chan kissed your forehead, "Did it hurt?" he gulped, nosing your cheek. 

You shook your head, "Felt good, just too much," you sniffled, curling up. Chan wrapped you up in a towel, "Let's go clean up, yeah? Sungie's chilling in the jacuzzi," he said, cradling you closely. You nodded, melting into his hold. Chan gently laid you in the tub, "There we go," he whispered. Jisung pulled you close, lathering soap onto your body, "Look baby, a rubber ducky," he said, moving the ducky towards you. 

"Ducky," you giggled, an innocent gaze in your eyes. Jisungs smile softened, "Ahm, he wants to play too," he said, putting bubbles on the ducky. Changbin climbed into the tub, "How's our little girl?" he asked, tickling your feet. You giggled, splashing water at him. Changbin smiled, "Oh our little brat is back," he teased, rubbing your foot. Chan climbed in after, "I tidied up the couch, we can cuddle up for movie night after this," he said, slightly avoiding your gaze. 

You crawled towards him and nuzzled between his legs. Chan buried his face into your hair, "My heart sank when you said red bubs, but I'm happy you trust us to respect your body," he sighed, biting your ear. You giggled, looking up, "Trust daddy a lot," you beamed, bringing his hand to your lips. Chan smiled, "I'm glad, princess. I'm glad," he said, rubbing your shoulders. "Can we have chicken for dinner?" he asked, feeling hungry. Jisung snorted, "We can use Channie Hyung's card," he teased, only to get splashed by water.

[lilianade-comics]

Stolen Sanguine's Storyline

@taptrial2 requested information about my Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. I previously made a post about the AU's world-building. This post will summarize the story as far as I've developed it.

*Vlad begins the relevant history of this AU as a vampire, and the details of his turning are not important as they are not the inciting incident of his revenge plot.

---

THE PAST.

A little over thirteen years ago, Vlad was a rich, powerful vampire living the typical vampiric lifestyle with the added bonus of some mad science human/vampire experimentation on the side. But after years of living like that, he realized it wasn't satisfying him and there was something very big and important missing from his existence. Under the weight of crushing loneliness, and knowing it's supposed to be against vampiric nature to form real connections, Vlad decides to run an experiment: Is it possible for him, a vampire, to form a real relationship with a human and never introduce blood consumption to the dynamic? Is it possible for him to experience genuine love?

Enter Jack and Maddie. Maddie was about six months pregnant at the time, and the story she tells Vlad is that her husband was a merchant whose ship sank recently. Jack is in the role of her servant. They quickly form a friendship with Vlad and in Maddie's case, she allows Vlad to believe he's wooing her. They run the long game on Vlad, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and that moment comes a few months after Maddie's twins are born. Jack and Maddie, vampire hunting husband and wife, turn on Vlad and attempt to slay him, citing his many, many crimes against humanity and evil, blood consuming nature as the reason he's a fool to think they ever cared about him at all.

Vlad escapes Jack and Maddie because his castle is full of secret passageways, but he's suffering a nasty facial wound from a stake and reeling from the betrayal. He watches from a distance as they burn his home down and destroy his immortal life's work, and bitter hatred takes root in his black heart because he actually had hope his experiment was working. That he could love and be loved and finally feel satisfied...

Immediate revenge is the only option. Maddie gave all number of excuses why she wouldn't let Vlad meet her infant (the cholera outbreak in the area is too dangerous) in a thin attempt to protect them should the plan go awry, but she didn't realize Vlad's powers far extend the norm. With a trace of Jack's blood on one hand and Maddie's on the other, Vlad can taste both and have an approximate idea of where their offspring resides, so he sets off to destroy Jack and Maddie's world.

Jack and Maddie would never have expected Vlad to find their little traveling murder wagon, so it's relatively undefended save the ridiculous amount of anti-vampire measures, half of which are useless and the other half pose no more than a slight inconvenience. The biggest obstacle is the fact that Vlad can't enter the dwelling uninvited and keep his powers, but he's beyond caring at this point and he meets no opposition from the cowering caretaker tasked with minding the treacherous leeches's spawn.

He wasn't expecting two babies, and after forcing entry Vlad is feeling more fatigued, vulnerable, in pain, and anxious than he anticipated, so he makes the hasty choice to take one and leave the other. Had he been more decisive, he probably would have done something far more grisly, but this choice sealed the fate of both children for better or for worse. Vlad flees the Fenton's traveling home with his stolen prize and vanishes into the beyond, never to be found.

(Jack and Maddie return some time later, exhausted and emotionally spent from hours of trying and failing to find their prey. To say that day went from bad to worse for them is an understatement. They continue to search for Vlad and their daughter for weeks, but the day they find a blood soaked baby blanket in the woods is the day they lose all hope.)

Vlad's retreat from his pursuers was stressful and made more difficult due to the fact that he was injured from the attempted slaying and powerless from forcing entry, but fortunately for him the tiny object of his revenge will conveniently provide the blood needed for his expedient recovery. Vlad has never eaten a child before--the thought is somewhat distasteful to him, but he puts this discomfort aside in the face of his hunger and seething, furious need to hurt Jack and Maddie.

It's funny, then, how when he removes the infant from its blanket and looks into its blue eyes and observes its little fisted hands and feet, holding it aloft and away from his body like the sacrifice it's supposed to be, Vlad hesitates. In those best days with Jack and Maddie, he could have sworn his experiment was working. That if they had never tried to kill him, Vlad could have seen fully past his desire for blood and simply be their friend, no strings attached. That he could have fully loved them. That they could fully love him. It was they who had ruined everything, they who were the monsters, not him. Vampires could love, if they chose to. He just needed to find someone without prejudice, someone without hate...

Danielle's life was spared that day. As she grows up far, far away from her birthplace, Vlad ensures she knows what he wants her to know: That he, a vampire, adopted her after her evil parents used her as bait in an attempt to kill him. It's not the unedited truth, of course. But it's true enough. What's even more true is that Danielle loves him wholeheartedly, and Vlad, in his own disturbed way, loves her too. He shields her from the darkness of his world and does everything in his considerable power to keep her happy, healthy, and safe. He's not lying when he claims he's never bitten her. She's his daughter, a word that isn't in the average vampire's vocabulary. It's the sweetest revenge imaginable: the child of vampire hunters, now the child of a vampire.

---

PRESENT DAY.

Danny is turned inside his own home. It was a freak accident, and he wasn't even bitten. All it takes is one little scratch and a tiny drop of venom; and he wakes up the following night with a craving for the unimaginable. Brought up to believe vampires are the most evil creatures alive and terrified of what he might do to his parents, he flees home and camps out at the Foley farm, where Tucker sneaks him livestock just to keep him alive.

Jack and Maddie were going to let Danny apprentice at an astronomer's guild in the near future, so Danny leaves them a note to tell them he was so excited about it he left early. The truth is too terrifying to admit, and he knows they're too caught up in the hunt for the vampire that got away from them thirteen years ago to question it. They kept saying they were close; which means Danny is free to...do what, exactly?

He has nowhere to go. Tucker can't hide him forever, and as much as Sam pretends that she's a witch she can't undo his curse. And Danny feels that hunger still, that hunger driving him to hurt his closest friends. So he leaves them too, fearing their safety.

He travels for a bit by night, subsisting off animals and avoiding people as much as he can. He has some close calls: a white-clad vampire slaying cult nearly catches him after he gets a little too bold going after livestock, and even though Danny knows he needs to avoid people, he can't help but take advantage of his newfound immortality and help people who need it. A victim of highway robbery here, a stuck wagon there. One freezing cold river and one rescued swimmer later and Danny discovers that he's exceptionally pathetic for a vampire; he can't die by hypothermia or drowning, but he lacks the resistance and recovery speed these monsters are supposed to have. He spends hours staring at the stars, hoping no one finds him like this, and all he can think about is blood.

It's at one rural village miles away that he hears whispers that he's officially in vampire territory. He's passingly familiar with these concepts: vampires aren't typically nomadic and usually reside in one or two locations, amassing enough power and wealth and political or economic influence so as to be untouchable, and presiding over a handful of villages or even a city that don't dare to oppose them. This particular area apparently has a relatively high concentration of vampires, which normally would have him going the other direction. But one name stands out from the rest, one name gives him pause. Vlad Masters, or Plasmius as he is colloquially known underground. The one who escaped from his parents, all those years ago. The one who killed his baby twin sister.

Curiosity is only a fraction of what drives Danny into Vlad's domain. Is it anger? A sense of vengeance for a sister he never had the chance to know? Misguided heroic principles telling him to save the poor people in Vlad's village? Or something far more complicated, the need to look at another vampire and compare himself--to understand---what he is. What he might become. Either way Danny finds himself readying a wooden stake on the way to the manor and realizing he might be more like his parents than he's willing to admit.

It's midday when Danny arrives. He long ago picked up a heavy cloak to shield him from the sun, and he figures that Vlad is more likely to be inactive and less powerful when it isn't night. And since Danny has never drank human blood, he has no powers to lose when he enters the manor uninvited. He doesn't know what he's looking for. A murder dungeon, probably. Body parts strewn everywhere. Blood smeared on the walls. Evidence of a terrifying vampiric mad scientist's crimes. Not prim little houseplants and stacks and stacks of gaudy decorations. Unfortunately for him, Vlad has been functionally diurnal for years at this point, and Danny doesn't notice he's been snuck up on until Vlad is right behind him and inquiring just what does this little intruder think he is doing?

Coming face to face with his sister's murderer with no warning wasn't ideal, but Danny has been on the open road long enough that his reaction time is sharpened to a knife's point. Or a stake's point, as it were. And perhaps if he were facing a human he might have managed to do something with it. But Vlad catches his swing comically easily and holds it in place, like he's trying to decide if it was meant to be a feeble joke. Danny wrests his arm away and falls back, and his hood slips back from his head, revealing his face.

Vlad's unprecedented expression of shock and recognition is all Danny needs to see, and he's on his feet again in a blink. "Recognize me?" he inquires. Vlad audibly confirms it, that Danny must be Jack and Maddie's son, the other baby in the cradle. The twin left behind. And at this Danny's anger and panic gives way to bloodlust, a terrible surge of violence with one target. He can't believe he's endured weeks of pushing down his monsterous urges just to give in here, but Danny can't let the death of his sister slide.

Attacking Vlad again goes no better than it did the first time, and now Vlad's mostly recovered from the shock and remarking on how....amusing it is that Danny has found him after all these years. And look at that! Are those adorable canines pointed? Why, that's just the most delicious cosmic irony possible, and Vlad's smug musing at how this must have utterly destroyed his parents only enrages Danny more. Try as he might, he never even comes close to harming Vlad, who dances around him like it's all a very cute game.

Vlad maintains the insufferable veneer until Danny, furious and panting, reminds him that he happens to be the bastard who killed an innocent baby- his baby sister, and Vlad shows a glimmer of genuine irritation for the first time. Suddenly he's closer than he was a second ago, and he playfully tells Danny that being a presumptuous brat will not improve his chances of making it out of the manor alive. Danny takes the golden opportunity to swing at him again, but Vlad finally goes on the offensive and grabs him in a vicelike chokehold.

Still conversational, Vlad tells Danny he has left him in a most interesting position. Shall he kill him? That would certainly be fair, since Danny has tried to kill him already, and he's clearly unable to control himself. Or should he spare him, and reveal the true nature of his sister's fate? Danny struggles for air, with no idea what Vlad is talking about. He tries to wheeze something goading, but the moment ends abruptly when a door swings open behind them and Danielle runs into the room, not finishing her sentence when she sees the confrontation.

Saved by his sister's appearance, Vlad reluctantly releases Danny and lets him cough pitifully on the floor while he attends to Danielle, who has forgotten what she wanted and is staring wide eyed at the strange boy, not letting Vlad coax her out of the room. Danny recovers his breath, bloodlust long gone, and stares right back. Vlad, for once in his life, briefly looks at a loss, before deciding that an explanation is definitely necessary and he introduces Danielle to the impertinent little intruder who just tried to stab him, her long lost twin brother Daniel. And to Danny, he introduces Danielle, placing great stress on my beloved daughter.

Dinner that night is unbelievably awkward. For Vlad and Danny, that is. Danielle is thrilled. It comes to light that Danielle not only knows she's adopted, she knows the whole story of how she came to be with Vlad...or, at least, Vlad's edited version of it. Danny is appalled, especially when Danielle excitedly exclaims that now that he's escaped his parents, he can live with her and Vlad forever! Vlad chokes on his wine (or is it blood?) while Danny shoots him a thunderous look. Danny inquires why Dani thinks he escaped his parents, and she, sensing his unhappiness, explains that they probably tried to hurt him for being a vampire like they tried to hurt her father, didn't they? Vlad watches Danny closely, because that's exactly the assumption he made as well, but Danny manages to grind out that his parents love him and are good people, and would never, ever hurt him.

Later, after Danielle has shown Danny every nook and cranny of the manor and babbled excitedly about her life and asked him a million questions about his, after Vlad finally sends her to bed, Danny finds himself alone with his sister's murderer again. No, not her murderer. Her kidnapper. Her manipulative liar of a "father". He tells Vlad as much, sitting across from him with a lit fireplace between them. Vlad only scoffs and asks when, exactly, did he lie to Danielle? Did he lie when he said Jack and Maddie used her and Daniel as bait? Maddie was with child when she courted Vlad. Bait, my dear boy. What sort of parents knowingly place their unborn children in the sights of a vampire? Did he lie, then, when he said he rescued her from them? Judging by Daniel's unfortunate fate, no.

Danny's face colors with rage, but he can't say anything for a moment. You're still evil, you're still a monster, you won't get away with this, all flit through his mind, but he settles for telling Vlad that his parents had nothing to do with his "condition" and he's not afraid of them hurting him. Vlad smirks in that punchable way of his, and says that's evident in the way he ran for miles just to fall at the feet of their worst enemy. Danny doesn't rise to this bait. He goes on to say that he's not scared of his parents hurting him, he's scared of the reverse. Of the very real urge he feels to hurt them.

Then Danny brings up the thing that has been eating at him since he first saw Dani. The fact that she was not only happy and alive, but whole and unbitten. She's been living with a vampire for thirteen years and Vlad's never...? Vlad regards him and says nothing, face impassive save an amused quirk to the side of his mouth. How? Danny wonders. How is that even possible? Vampires aren't supposed to be able to treat humans like anything other than food. How did Vlad figure out how to resist the hunger?

Seeing that Danny is being earnest, Vlad asks him why he's here and what he wants. And Danny falters, thinking. As much as his skin crawls at the thought, he wants Vlad to teach him the secret to beating the hunger. He wants to stay close to his sister's side. And he wants to hold onto that glimmer of hope that maybe he doesn't have to be a monster. Vlad drums his fingers against the rich texture of the armchair and remarks how fortunate Daniel is that he bears such a striking resemblance to the one person in the world Vlad would never deny anything. And with how happy Daniel's presence has made Danielle, it would be a pity to separate the siblings again so soon. So with the wary promise that Daniel will do exactly what Vlad tells him to and that he will do nothing on pain of death to endanger Dani's safety whether it be by word or deed, Vlad agrees to teach him his secrets.

---

[almondmilktargaryen]

Duty & Sacrifice (Part One)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Cheating, mention of dead children

Word count: 2k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four ✍️

The memory of Aemond’s mother holding a blade inches from Rhaenyra’s eye pops into his head whenever he plans to head into the city.  His mother’s thirst for justice and balance, for the sake of him, is an image he has never shaken.

“Where is duty!” He remembers.  “Where is sacrifice!”

And years later, with the Greens victorious and the Blacks slaughtered, sacrifice reveals its head here.  As Aegon takes rule on the Iron Throne as the one true king (according to future history books, not the people), and Helaena’s ashes rest in the sept with Jaehaerys, Aemond takes on his own sacrifice.

Well aware of his brother’s ineptitude (and reliance on the milk of the poppy), their grandsire assigns Aemond responsibility for helping train the Royal Army with Ser Criston,  as well as command the City Watch.  As much as Otto claims not to care for it, Aemond and Daemon were shockingly similar.  So there was no better person.  Aemond agrees with his grandsire but knows he only won the dragonback fight against his uncle because he was more disciplined.  He flew away on Vhagar unscathed in comparison because of his discipline.

Because Aemond understands duty and sacrifice.

And like his mother, he understands his role in the family and takes it seriously.

He wears his typical black leather attire whilst eyeing the hood in his wardrobe.  He’s even just about to grab it before his chamber doors groan loudly, the force of his two boys clamoring through to see him.  Baelon attacks his legs while little Daeron stumbles behind, forcing Aemond to submit and fall to his bed.  Aemond’s laughter mixed with the squeals of joy.  Before Baelon can sit on his chest again, he quickly sits up.  “Is it almost that time?” He asks them.

“Yes,” Baelon says. Aemond rises further and the boy rests against his father’s arm.  Aemond is sure that if he blinks, he’ll find his oldest suddenly tall enough to rest his head on his shoulder.  “Mother says I still have to go to bed when Daeron does.”

Aemond shrugs with an amused sigh.  He had learned through his oldest how much time children have to argue and dwell on their smallest of issues.  “Your mother’s rules are your mother’s rules.” He simply says.

“But I’m much older than Daeron.” He has used this argument multiple times on his father, yet Aemond remained delighted as his lips curled.  Aemond places a hand on his boy’s head and brushes over his matching Targaryen locks.  He’s letting them grow past his ears now.  Aemond has also learned his eight-year-old bends his will effortlessly, something powerful men with the most fearsome reputations and twice as many battle scars could not even dream of.  Meanwhile, his son achieves it with his mother’s eyes and little effort.

“I will speak to your mother about it tomorrow.” He grabs Baelon by the waist and lifts him to let his feet land on the stony floor.  “But for tonight, you must return to your chambers at the same time as your brother.”

“But Papa,” he drags out the last syllable.

“I will not hear it. Your mother--”

The doors echo again, and Princess Floris Baratheon steps in like she was summoned.  Her belly has already started swelling with their third child.  Despite what handmaidens and wet nurses have prepared her for, Floris has yet to discover any dreadfulness during her pregnancies.  Bards have written songs about her and each birth so far, claiming the Baratheon strength eases the process,  and the camaraderie between her and her sisters ensures strong sibling bonds for House Targaryen.  Aemond cannot disagree with the first, holding her hand throughout each labor.  Baelon took seven hours, and Daeron took four.  Not a scream, but Aemond was sure he’d witness her clenched teeth reduce to dust before the babies took their first breaths.  He brushed the hairs sticking to her brow and kissed her head and cheeks when she could finally sleep.  She deserved those songs, every lyric.

He has reason to doubt potential bonds, though, considering his relationship with Aegon.  His hope remains strong for his girls.

“Say goodnight to Papa, boys,” Floris says.

“But Papa thinks I should stay up late--”

“I said nothing of the sort.” He responds matter-of-factly.  “Listen to your mother or lose your negotiation opportunities.”

Baelon groans while Daeron giggles, following him out into the hall.

“Stay with Ser Criston, boys,” Floris tells them.  Her hands rest naturally on the bump as if her wrists missed it.  “I will be out in a second.”

When they disappear, Aemond keeps his expression light.  She still beams, and it helps.  “Best to head to them before the handmaidens snatch them up.”

“Yes.” She replies. “Though I’ve told them time and again to leave bedtime for me.”

Aemond puts a hand on her forearm and the other on her belly.  “You go on. I have a meeting concerning the City Watch.  I won’t be back until later.”

Floris maintains a radiant expression while nodding, despite the noticeable swallow in her throat.  When the door closes and he hears scampering pairs of feet grow farther in distance, he briefly questions going out, aware of his wife’s subtle yet looming suspicions.  But by the time he finally reaches out for his hood, he has already pushed the thought back.

Aemond follows the hills and dips of the cobblestone roads whilst keeping his head down and royal roots securely hidden.  He turns some corners sharply and holds his breath before advancing toward others.  He knows his path through Flea Bottom well, but the odors of sweat, rotting meat, as well as discarded piss and shit (in buckets and sometimes small piles) are all elements he has yet to get used to.  It would be a more straightforward path if he took the Street of Silk, but they both agreed they would never return there again if they had the choice.

The roads were dimly lit, and though dangerous men lurk more prominently at this late hour,  one stare down from Aemond and a good view of his eyepatch gets the message across that he is not one to be trifled with.  Not to mention his skills with a sword.  He claims not to care for his appearance, but hot-tempered or drunk men hesitate to come close when they see him.  It saves him time.

Aemond looks around for lingering faces in nearby windows before repeating the special rap at the door: three times, then two, then one.  He opens it, unlocked to his dismay, but his arrival was expected.  He enters anyway and moves the heavy metal bolt to secure it after an audible shut.

The small home is dimly lit, with barely room for a stewpot, let alone one bassinet.  Aemond can see a single flame burn near the bedside.  He follows it with the sound of his own name, as it’s spoken so sweetly from around the corner.

Radiance fills Aemond's sight: a mess of copper curls and a nightgown, and two swaddled babes in her arms.  An exhale leaves his lungs and nose as he comprehends the familiar sight.  “Welcome back.” She says softly, not to disturb the girls, or likely from her own lack of sleep.

“You know I hate it when you leave the door unlocked,” Aemond tells her.

“It’s too early in the night to worry about that.  They are all at the taverns and whorehouses.”

One of the girls starts fussing.

“You cannot be too naïve. If I’m not here to protect you like what happened at--”

“Oh, hush and get over here. Hold your children.” She tries to sit up properly.

Aemond presses his lips together and takes a seat on the small cot, bumpy and unpleasant, nothing he’s been unfamiliar with in the past eighteen months.  The comfort settles in him like a kindling fire when he gets to gaze upon his two girls.  United since birth, it is hard for their mother to nestle one while Aemond cradles the other.  But with every visit, they learn and adapt.  Now is no different, as Aemond reaches for the one closest to him: Alisha.  He’s studied the difference between them, staring at them still in the hours of the night, observing from the floor while their mother rested.  Small strands of white peek through the auburn, already beginning to curl.  Alyssa's hair is a blazing hue of ginger.

Aemond gives Alisha time to adjust in his arms.  She fusses but eventually settles.  Her eyes open gently, a dull brown.  Nothing special. Nothing Targaryen.  Alyssa is safe too. And her mother keeps her close with two arms now rather than one.  “Are you staying the night?” She asks Aemond.

“I certainly can.” He scoots closer, meeting her hip.  He brushes some strands behind her ear before cupping her face, bringing her in for a kiss.  It was gentle, and the longing was the same as their first night together where nothing more happened other than this; sitting and kissing.  They did not feel the need for anything else right away, understanding what the other had been through amidst long talks in the dead of night.  When things escalated, she showed him patience and love, despite his fears and questions.

Now he’s more confident with movements, as his hand traveled to the back of her neck to keep her close.  The brown eyes she blessed their daughters with stared back at him.  Her breath smelled like bowls of brown, and he did not mind.  “You know what I think you deserve?”

“Hmm.” She looks up toward the ceiling as she ponders.  Brown seeps from the corners, and Aemond has hesitated to ask.  She puts a hand to his face, just below the scar.  “I’m sure you’re eager to show me.”

“A house.”

“Oh.” She pulls back as her brows quirk.  “But I have a house, Aemond.”

“Not one you deserve, though.  This was just temporary, to get you off the Street of Silk.  You deserve comfort. A home where the girls can run around outside and fall asleep at night in proper beds.  Where danger doesn’t loom just outside that door.�� No one would ever hurt them.” He kisses her again, and he feels her hesitate.

“How do you know no one will hurt them?  Will you be there?”

“Not all the time. But more than I would be now.  That I can promise.”

“Aemond--”

“I can assign guards to protect you when I’m not there.  Servants that understand discretion.  The girls will be happy and safe, well-provided for.” Prisoners in the black cells live more comfortably than she does,  with space to move and leftovers from royal dinners served to them (that was Helaena’s biggest request as queen, and Aemond pushed it on Aegon as an attempt to honor his late wife).  When he visits, Aemond sees how little she moves.  She hurts from sharing such a horrible cot with twin babes, and Aemond cannot do anything about it here.  “Please, my love. You’ve done so much for me.  Taught me so much. Let me do this for you.”

“You know what will happen if they find out.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“The last war was about bastards taking the throne.  People have been finding your brother’s bastards on the street.  They butcher any boy or girl with silver hair like livestock, left to rot in dark corners alone.  I know you’ve seen them.”

“And I would do everything in my power to make sure no one touches you.  I have a lot of power. And will.  I’ve protected you from horrid men before.  You cannot doubt I won’t do it again.”

Water lines her eyes. It glistens painfully in the candlelight as her palm falls from his face, his shoulder, and then his chest.  She keeps her voice steady. “You can’t have lost one eye, be so intelligent yet so blind,” she says.  “People see. People talk. Even in the fields where nothing happens.  It only gives them an excuse to be more vigilant.  To see a whore just show up from the capital with guards, servants, and two girls.  One with some silver in her hair and another with a purple eye.  What else would they think?”

Aemond pulls back. “Purple?”

She gives Alyssa her full attention once more, coaxing her to open her eyes.

“No, last time I was here, they were both brown.  Like Alisha’s. Yours.”

“This happens with babies sometimes, Aemond.  This is only month three.” She tries to keep herself together.  “The gods are in their right to punish us.  For what we’ve done here. In here.”

“No,” he simply says. “The gods have tested me before we met.  I’m used to their tests. And I’m used to prevailing, eventually.  I will do it again.”

“You can’t--”

“I will.” A surge runs through him, nothing dissimilar to when he went to war.  The simplistic instinct that comes with the will to survive.  When he was at war, there was one he relied upon from beginning to end, and even years before that.  Aemond is gentle as the surge flows through his veins.  “I can’t stay tonight.” He tells her.

“Where are you going?” She doesn’t try to hide the stress.

He gives her time to take Alisha back.  Alisha protests, but only momentarily.  With a flat palm on each, he brushes over the heads of the twins.  His gaze meets hers and he notices tears streaming halfway down her face.  He brushes them away, planting a kiss on her lips again, holding her by the neck once more.  He doesn’t speak a word until she looks him in the eye.  “I love you.” He’d say it with more of a tender demeanor if time was not of the essence now.  “With all my heart, I love you.  You made the grave mistake of letting a royal war hero fall in love with you, my dear.  The determination to keep you safe comes with that territory.”

Her head drops as tears finally do the same, dripping off the edge of her chin.  Aemond kisses her nose.

“I want to make you a home and keep you safe.  That’s not possible here. But it is possible.  For you. For them. It is possible.  I just need you to trust me.”

“I’m scared.” The whisper shakes from her, like dead leaves against the winter wind.  “Don’t leave me yet.” She holds the babies.  She can’t reach out to touch him, yet her arms try.

“I’m not leaving.” He kisses her lips again as if each one was a grant of safety from the gods.  He gave each one to her willingly, frivolously, like he was a god himself who had the power to control such things.  Because he did. He was a Targaryen.  It was close enough. “I will be back, I promise you.”

She still cries as he stands.  The babies too. And he cannot show how it breaks his heart, not now.  If he gives in and does what he truly wants, it will only be a problem when he wakes up here the next morning.  His eye stung with its own unshed tears, but he turned away regardless.  He took a long, steadying breath before heading toward the exit.  With a grip on the bolt, he commanded, “Lock this door.” He tried keeping his voice firm.  “And do not open it unless you know it’s me or a man named Ser Criston Cole, you hear me?”

She nods, and he can feel a tear slide down his cheek, mirroring her own.  He took in the image of the three before slipping out.  The door closed and hearing the heavy bolt provided some relief.

Then he stood there, longer than what was safe, yes.  The cold of Flea Bottom wrapped around him almost instantly, a biting chill of the desolate streets while the soft glow of candlelight shut out from him on the other side,  as it was not his to bask in for too long.

But even in the nearly black darkness of the narrow streets, he could spot one of them; a tiny figure huddled in the corner of a nearby alley, a broken skull with hair shorter than Baelon’s.  Royal blood left to soak into the cobblestone under his feet.  Bones exposed and rotted in the dark, forever cold, soon forgotten.

Aemond made haste to vanish into the shroud of night, swallowed by the fog.  Criston would be in his quarters at this hour, surely.  It was a straightforward path back if he took the Street of Silk.  And he didn’t have a choice.

[jealousofmydreams]

Indulgences of the beast II

Synopsis : In which Father Charlie, the symbol of faith and sacrifice, succumbs to his own temptations as the restraints of his inner beast are broken free, allowing it to roam and pursue its desired prey.

warnings : {dubcon, drowning, suffocation, forced infidelity, breathplay, 18+}

a/n : please read part one before reading this one. i have not watched the show, only saw one too many clips of it and wrote this. nothing is probably accurate so read it for fun. might write another part but as a bonus chapter but i'm not sure yet.

ACT IV

She managed to get through the first stone arch, past the tower and the church. Now, she just needed to get to the second building, where their personal quarters were.

Her thoughts were filled with doubts but there wasn't time to linger on them as she finally entered the quarters. Her heart gradually slowed down from their rapid palpation. She made her steps as quiet as possible and stuck close to the wall.

She could only hope she wouldn't encounter anyone.

However, as if her worries were meant to come to life, just as she turned into a corner, she ran into someone.

She flailed back and tripped on her own feet. Before she could stumble even more, she was held back by a strong arm.

They held her close to their chest and her fingers tightly gripped the cloth on instinct.

It took her a moment until she realized what had happened, and looked up at the person holding her.

The person she saw, was the last person she wanted to see, Father Charlie.

His face was grim. The furrow of his brows and his pursed lips were a contrast to the usual kind expression he wore. This was the second time she had seen this expression, and she didn't like that it was yet again pointed at her.

"I'm sorry Father, I didn't see where I was going," she tried to move away, slightly pushing at his chest when she felt resistance. 

Even at her persistence, he did not let her go.

Through the dim hallway, candles wax dripped as they hung up the walls of the corridor. The candles provided enough light where she could confirm his strong gaze was indeed directed at her.  

She whispered his name this time, hoping he could come to his bearing.

"What nightly affairs keeps you up at night," he whipered her name softly at the end. She froze and he took the chance to rest his other hand on her lower back.

Her mind wandered to where she had been minutes ago, but surely, he couldn't have seen her. She barely managed to make it through the quarters even with her rapid pace, how he could have seen her and been here at the same time ?

A quick excuse was on the tip of her tongue, "Late night prayers seem to be one. They are a great comfort to me," she hastily said.

"Prayers that couldn't wait until the next day? Surely even the lord would appreciate a moment of rest," before she could retort back, he spoke again, letting her go but grabbing her by the arm instead. "Come along, if you insist on praying, I shall assist you under these trying times,"

Her feet glided along the floor, she tried to yank her arm back, but his fingers were like claws.

She started to stammer, "Father Charlie, please, I apologize," by then, she could feel the panic overwhelming her. But he acted as if he didn't hear her.

"Please, I should go back to my dwelling, m-my worries have been put to rest," she kept pleading. She wasn't familiar with the corridor she was in anymore.

She did not belong in this area nor within his arms reach, she knew that much now.

She even considered screaming but the panic had her throat closing up. 

By his luck, he managed to drag her along until he came to his chamber. He was quick to push her inside and closed the door shut.

He faced the door while she faced him.

She wanted to melt away, back in the shadows where she was nobody and nothing could hurt her.

Instead, she was forced to face him.

Through her confusion earlier, she wasn't paying much attention to him, but she realized now that Father Charlie was unstable.

He was breathing heavily, and the hand that had long let her go, kept clenching and unclenching as if the muscles in his hand were straining.

She wanted to speak, the words kept forming yet stuck in the back of her throat.

He turned around before she could act.

He had a stern look and she trembled momentarily. She didn't know what to do under his stare.

A moment passed where neither of them moved. She kept fidgeting while he kept staring at her.

With a deep sigh, he approached her.

She flinched just as his hand reached her.

"Sit," even as his hands trembled at her visible rejection, he gestured to the chair leaning against the wall.

She took a hard gulp, which was heard in the small confine of his room.

A man's chamber was not where she belonged, especially not of Father Charlie.

Charlie moved as if everything was normal. He went to the large cross hanging up on his wall. He touched the familiar figure's feet with his right hand then touched his forehead followed by both his shoulders before finally letting his fingers rest on his lips.

When he turned around, he looked at her expectantly. "Won't you pray, sister," he raised his eyebrows. But she remained as stiff as always.

Seeing her shivers in fear, he dragged a hand over his mouth.

With wide steps, he crossed over to her and descended on his knees. The sight made her eyes widen. She tried to rise up but he held both her arms and forced her back into the seat. "I did say I'll help you," he looked at her intently and she almost forgot to exhale.

Gently, he placed a palm on the top of her head and brought it in a bowing motion. Then his fingertips slide down her forehead to lightly press on her eyelids.

Even with her eyes closed, her lids trembled.

"Let us pray," he murmured.

It felt wrong. The way he spoke, the way he held her, was wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, repeated over and over in her head.

His own head bowed and he slowly leaned it against hers. She could feel his body heat and the gentle caresses of his disheveled hair on her forehead.

She nervously rolled her ankles when he took hold of her hands again.

"Divine above, I seek your light and love. Cleanse my mind, body, and soul of any negativity or burdens I carry. Purify my thoughts and intentions, and fill me with peace and clarity. Help me release what no longer serves me, and guide me toward healing..."

She tried to follow his words but the anxiety gripped her tightly. It seemed he was aware of it as his prayers trailed off.

"What bothers you, sister," he spoke yet he didn't lift his head. Instead, he moved his head slightly until his cheek rested on her own, the skin he touched tingling until she was practically shivering.

She stopped breathing as the warnings were blaring in her head now.

"Please let me go," she begged.

How long had he wanted to hear her beg for him, how sweetly she did yet her words felt like a knife twisting in his pounding heart.

A dark chuckle left past his lips until he was full on laughing, one of his hands slapping his crouched thighs.

Before she could react, he gripped her jaw. His fingers digging in the skin.

"Let you go?! I haven't even had you, yet you try to escape from my embrace?" he snarled before getting up.

He pointed a finger in her face, loose strands of his hair hanging on his forehead, his eyes sharp. "You think I don't know, about the letters, that damm tree, I should of cut off his limbs the second he touched you," his face flushed red.

He kept pacing back and forth yet she could only react to his words.

He knew, oh God he knew, that's all she could think about.

"No, no look at me, at me," he gripped her cheeks forcing her lips to pucker. His eyes glanced down at them.

Her swollen lips bitten raw by another man.

With a growl, he licked the sensitive skin, not kissing her just biting and pulling the skin, lapping up until they dripped of his own spit. Red from his own lips and teeth.

When he pulled away both were panting. Her eyes were wide in shock and his were dark. He finally caved in and had a taste of what he always wanted. He couldn't let her go now

She fought to get up of the chair but he forced her down.

"Stop, please," the cries resonated but his fingers did not stop.

He hooked one finger in her mouth and another under her tongue. He pinched her tongue and said her name once. Stern and quiet and she froze. Tears clung to her lashes as she looked in his somber eyes.

He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, as if he was soothing her.

"It's okay, everything is okay, I'm sorry I scared you," His words were meant to be comforting but his actions weren't.

He slowly stroked the side of her face, trying to reassure her. It briefly worked until one of his fingertip slipped under her high collar and touched her flesh.

Before she could react, he pulled at the cloth on her neck. He opened the buttons of her habit, one by one. Tugging and pulling but never ripping.

She sat quivering in the seat, too afraid to move or speak. Every time she tried to speak, she only managed to stutter before she swallowed her words. Embarrassed of her own weakness.

Charlie kept praying to her, the prayers he spoke sounded almost like curses.

He got in her face when she looked away. Tilting his head down, he forced her to look him with a nudge of his fingertip on her chin.

His fingertip felt like stone, a simple touch forcing her still. She couldn't move and could barely find herself to breath.

Everytime he approached her, she kept flinching, afraid.

As he used her frozen form to his advantage, he managed to unbutton half of her habit.

His eyes, which kept flickering between her eyes, with a yearning she could not understand, glanced down at her chest.

His sharp intake of breath broke her haze.

Under her buttoned up robe, her corset peaked through. The tightly wound fabric pushed up against her breasts and the laces crossed over until it was in a perfect bow.

His eyes clouded over, his mouth salivating.

He didn't even unbutton the rest of it before he ripped the robe with his hand. Buttons ripped free, some dangling by a tread. Her loud gasp covered up by the ripping.

His trembling hands shook as they hovered over her spilling breasts. He crouched over her, like a beast preparing to savor his meal, curving his body until she could feel the heat of his body.

The dry gulp he managed to push down irritated his throat even more. But beside his thirst, a surge of rage pulsed through him.

"Does he love you," he muttered, teeth nearly biting her lips from how close he was when he spoke.

He pulled the laces that held her waist in shape. Her mouth fell open as she felt the air leave her lungs. He opened his mouth above hers, breathing her in, panting along with her. Her eyes clouded over in tears, her lungs straining as he ripped the air from her lungs.

Even through the haze, she could understand the words he spoke.

The former nun believed sacrificing her beliefs was the only form of love she could give him. She knew she loved him, and she hoped the same of him.

Yet doubts crept in. They had long resided inside of her. The missed letters, his absences at their rendezvous, his lack of eagerness when they did meet.

However, before she could ponder more, Charlie spoke, almost sneering as he fed into her doubts.

"God loves you, and as a servant of God, it is my duty to do the same," his own eyes were rimmed red with anguish. She could feel the light brush of his lips as he spoke.

He ravaged her mouth moments ago, but could not bring himself to kiss her.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks which he gracefully licked and sucked until her cheeks bruised.

"How could I praise the lord, w-with my viles acts, he would not forgive me..." 

He pressed his nose into her cheek, his hands cupping the curves of her breasts over the bustier. They were tempted to creep up and touch the flesh but he resisted.

"Then I'll be your Lord, praise me, worship me and I'll have you just as you are," as he spoke, he forced her on her feet.

He ripped the rest of her robe, revealing the tight corset. The loose straps flowing down her arms as her chest heaved. The skirt she wore remained clasped tightly on her hips, but even then, she felt as if she was being devoured her by his eyes.

Charlie could not bring himself to admire her, afraid that if he lost himself in her now, everything will be in vain.

He yanked his own collar and unbuttoned his habit. When she took this chance to push him, he merely stopped and forced her forward, in the corner of his room.

The corner held a basin filled with holy water. The same basin where he had buried his face in, hoping it would cleanse him of his sins after striking his own back raw.

She whimpered as he held one arm under her breasts forcing her lungs to contract while the other one lifted her face by her cheeks, forcing her to look at herself in the small mirror he kept.

She kept squirming when the heat of his naked chest dug into her back, momentarily making her dizzy.

He buried his nose in her cheek slowly dragging it in her hairline. Smelling her until she filled his lungs and he breathed her out.

"Please, please," when he felt her struggle again, his fingers wound around the laces and with one yank of his hand, tightened her corset and pulled until she couldn't breath. Her mouth fell open and the veins on her throat made his teeth ache.

He trailed his tongue over it, tracing it before sucking lightly. He could feel her gasps yet he could not find it in himself to let go.

Even her choking face was beautiful.

"It's okay it's okay, I'm right here" even though she pleaded to be released, he only comforted her, acting as if her pleads were of needs.

He would of kept her in his embrace if she hadn't let out a wail, his hand quick to force itself between her teeth.

She bite furiously, her teeth breaking his skin yet he took it as if she was marking him as her own.

However, a sudden exasperation grew inside of him.

She just kept denying him, his dark impulse took over.

With a swift movement, he bent her over, forcing his thighs behind hers. He held her around her waist and forced her to lay flat with his own weight.

He only stopped lowering her when her hands slapped the wall as she hung over the basin sink. Her face close to the water. She let out a cry, which he paid no mind.

He made sure to situate her before going on his knees. He clasped both her ankles in one of his hand, forcing her to keep the position.

Using her delirious state to his advantage, he used his other hand to lift the bottom of her skirt until he forced it to scrunch up on her lower back.

The position had her opening herself up to him completely.

What was presented before him was beyond anything even heaven could offer. The thin undergarment was soaked, the dark patch in the middle had him panting.

With an inhale, he pressed his nose in her covered hole. The damp fabric emitting her scent and lightly wetting his nose.

He pulled back only to use his free hand to move one cheek, watching as the fabric moved until it settled between her slit.

He did the same with the other until the thin fabric was curving over her sex.

Her bulge made him feel parched. He could faintly see the shape of her lips and the swollen clit above it.

He carefully pinched the lingerie before tugging the tight cloth over her clit, making her jump and hiccup.

However, it did not seem she will let him have his way.

She tried to kick back at him with her feet.

Charlie would of let her continue to struggle. If only she hadn’t tried to bang her weak fist into the wall, surely to wake up the clergy next door.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He was quick to command her back under his thumb, "Naughty naughty girl," he crept up her back, curving himself in her spine and held her fist. She hung her head and cried quietly. Her pleads returning.

However, Charlie's patience ran thin.

He gently caressed the back of her head, placing one final kiss on her hair before pushing her head in the basin.

Forcing her to drink the holy water drenched in his sins while he went to drink from his between her legs.

Undisturbed, he went back on his knees and lifted her until her feet rested on his thighs. He angled her enough to keep her head submerged in the holy water.

With a gentle smile, he was quick to kiss her fat mound. Illiciting a twitch which shuddered through her whole body, her toes digging into his skin.

He moaned happily at the ache she caused.

He dragged one of her foot in his palm until it was over his crotch. The pain she caused him, only turned to pleasure.

She wiggled her feet but he was stronger, forcing his hand down on her foot, keeping it on his aching length.

Charlie was slowly losing his sanity, her scent an intoxicating fragrance.

He peeled open the fabric and salivated when her arousal clung to it.

With a rough tug, he dragged her underwear to her thighs, too impatient to take it off completely.

With her bending over, it took no effort to peer though her sensitive parts.

Her glistening lips a warm welcome compared to her cold touch.

He let out a light breath, the warm air hitting her cunt which made her hips temble.

He could of admired her until dawn emerged, but his tongue hung heavy in his mouth, his throat dry.

He looked straight at her tight hole and tilted his chin until he could spit on it. He watched as his spit slid from her aching core until it almost dripped on the floor.

He caught the hanging spit with his tongue and brought it back to her pussy, memorizing her with his tongue.

Her choking sounds turning high pitched as he felt the curves of her lips and the ridges and bumps. His nose poked though her tight hole where he breathed her in with a satisfied inhale, his chin now soaked with her arousal.

He moaned at her essence before he nudged and cuddled up to her curls above.

Taking a moment to come back to his bearing before he pulled away, plunging his tongue in her tight hole again, the primary source of his longing.

With her constants turning, her skirt that had rested on her lower back slowly fell over his head like a veil.

Charlie remained unchanged, he poked and licked and sucked. One hand held her ankle while the other one gripped her foot under his palm, keeping her balanced on his cock.

Her scent and the heat enveloped him. The lack of air had him momentarily dizzy, but her invading scent brought him back to see his sense. Instead, he licked her back furiously as if her cunt was his lifeline.

He considered it as his own punishment as he smothered himself with the tight enclose of her cunt and her skirt which trapped him in.

She kept flailing around, the pressure of the water and the tightness of her corset and his tongue rolling around her made her dizzy. She felt like she lost her soul. As if she were a mere doll flopping around.

He kept moaning when he felt her tighten around his tongue, dragging and tugging his flesh deeper. Wetness throbbed out of her cunt until it was all he could feel and smell.

His mind was half gone. With hooded eyes, he could barely admire the untouched hole clenching above the one he was licking.

He had the urge to kiss her there too.

However, with one push of her foot, that pressed painfully on his cock, he felt her cum.

She bucked on his face, until she lost her strength. Her arms sliding down the sink and her head dropped until she barely moved in the sink.

Charlie didn't even take a moment to breath as he got out from under her skirt. He gently caressed her legs, dragging his nails on her skin before he placed a wet kiss on her lower back.

He tugged her back to his chest when he stood up. She was panting and coughing. Holy water dripped and ran down her chest. Her eyes were rimmed red and her head lulled around. He tapped her cheeks slightly, a chuckle escaping past his lips, "Atta girl."

When she gained a moment of clarity, her face crunched up. She saw herself in the mirror and realized this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

As she started to hyperventilate, he wrapped both his warms around her and rocked her. Shushing her softly as if she was a child.

Her fingers trembled over his arms, while he rubbed his face against her damp cheek, "Its okay, darling girl, I'm right here"

She held back her hiccups, her fear mobilizing her.

He took this chance to rock each other, before turning her in his embrace when she quiet down.

She was trembling, spit running down her chin, mixing with the water. He hummed, lapping it up before knocking his nose with hers.

She wouldn't look at him, her eyes hovering over his collarbones.

His eyes nearly crossed over as his rocking slowed down. He tried to lower his face to catch her eyes but she stubbornly refused.

Only when he gripped the back of hair and forced her chin up, did their eyes meet.

"You did so good," he praised her, a gentle smile on his face as if she truly moved him.

Her lips unconsciously parted then. Instead of words only small puffs of air came out. Charlie eyed her and when a silver of pink peeked out, he seized the moment and kissed her.

He wasted no time to explore her palate with a languid sweep of his tongue, drawing a gasp from her. Her waist dipped instinctly and his grip tightened.

His naked flesh was an unwanted comfort against her cold body. But her body instinctly reached for the warmth.

He teased her with playful strokes mapping every corner of her mouth.

She felt that this kind of kiss was no different than lovemaking.

With one last stroke, he slowly pulled away, releasing her with a slow and deliberate retreat.

She met his gaze then, chest heaving.

An haze clouded over her eyes, lost on the sensations she wasn't familiar with.

Charlie scanned her face with dark eyes, his cock twitching in their tight confine as her parted lips had her tongue sticking out. She was barely aware she hasn't completely put her tongue back in after the kiss ended abruptly.

Charlie gently sucked on her tongue which was still half out of her mouth before nibbling on the tip of it, his breathing unsteady.

With a heaving chest, he held her for a moment, crushing her to his chest.

He indulged in her warmth until he wrapped his right arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly. With his other hand, he yanked her skirt down. The fabric ripping before falling to tatters on the floor. Her underwear followed suit, the cloth getting dragged until they rested on her lower legs.

She was still unsteady and could barely register as she felt herself being lowered until her toes grazed the tip of his shoes.

"If you really want me to stop, just say it," her arms trembled over his broad shoulders when she gained awareness.

Without even touching her face, his eyes forced her still. They were in agony as if he was the one being tortured.

When she tried to move, her toes barely grazed his shoes before he turned his body around and pressed her back against the bed.

She blinked, frozen in place.

"I-I" before she could answer, she was silenced when he pulled at the ribbon of her corset in a hurry. He tried to tug the ribbons free but when he meet resistance, he brought both hands and ripped the corset apart.

The rough fabric pinching her skin before releasing and cold her hit her naked chest.

Her body was finally revealed under his preening eyes. Paying no mind to his throbbing hands, his gaze swept her from top to bottom then hurriedly returned to her face. His eyes were dilated and he stared down at her like a man who had gained his sanity.

He locked eyes with her before whispering, "Beautiful,"

He could practically feel the blush rise up her face from how close he was on her.

However, she didn't hold his attention for long. The sight of her breasts made his mouth water. Her nipples pebbled and practically begged to be touched.

With their unspoken wish, he pressed his face between her breasts mouthing and licking her skin.

He brought both his thumbs to flicks and tug at the erect nipple. She could only lay there and take it.

Her silent sobs shook her body. Her fingers digging into her palms, paralyzed by the sensations.

His hands were quick to wrap around hers when they picked at her own skin.

He could not let her harm herself, even though the one currently harming her the most was him.

Charlie trailed down her body, leaving open mouth kisses.

His tongue often peeked out to lick and then bite before he soothed the stinging marks. When he reached her waist, he plunged his tongue into her navel making her squirm at the discomfort.

He breathed her in and a moan slipped out when the smell of her arousal crept up to where he was.

Charlie rose up with his knees on the bed. His string of spit remained until it snapped at his new height.

He used his knees to lock her legs in as he rushed to take his own clothes off, his habit already halfway undone from earlier. He nudged his trousers to his knees, too impatient to take it off completely.

When he noticed her straining legs, trapped by her underwear. He tugged at it roughly until her underwear snapped under the weight of his strength. It pulled at her skin leaving a fresh burn until it was tatters on the bed.

Finally, when he managed to get the thick cloth off, he felt his pride blossom when she watched him, mouth agape and eyes wide, as if she saw the resurrection of the divine above.

Her gasp was loud when his cock sprung free of their confine. The tip red and angry as it bobbed freely on his stomach.

Under her watch, it twitched furiously.

She had to blink a couple of times to believe what she was seeing was real.

Felling proud and almost delighted, he slithered back on top of her.

"Look how good you are to me," he smirked while forcing her arms above her head and placed his own under, keeping her trapped under him.

He pressed kisses down her chest until they glistened with his spit. Her quiet pants overtaken by soft words he could barely discern.

"Forgive me Lord, take pity and forgive my sins. Help me release from the shackles of the beast, guide me towards you light, give me strength," when he heard her praying, a laugh slipped past his laugh.

"Tell me sweet girl, when was the last time you prayed? Do you think the Lord might forgive your sins with a single prayer," he mumbled on her sweaty skin.

His words only made her scrunch up her face, her tears flowing before disappearing in her hair.

With one last laugh, he brought one hand between their body until it was on her cunt. His open hand tapping on her sensitive parts, making her tears of pain turn into pleasure.

Her quiet whines music to his ears.

Even then, the words she thought she had forgotten, flew past her lips, as if she had never stopped praying in the first place.

However, he was quick to swallow her mouth. His tongue twisting her virtues into sins.

Slowly, he placed a finger between her slit and groaned when he felt the opening drip with her arousal.

The kiss arousing her until the sheet beneath her was slick.

He slowly twirled the thick pool of her arousal until she could visibly feel him tug the stickiness from her opening.

With a wet smack from their lips, she threw her head back and closed her legs around his waist in shame.

"You are absolutely divine," he whispered her name at the end.

His fingers gently pulled her chin down before he forced his tongue back in. His tongue touching hers before their lips met.

He explored her mouth and teased her sensitive palate.

His hand, which was holding her chin, moved to the back her head deepening the kiss, their breath mingled as the kiss became more intense.

Their tongues twisted together like vines caressing each other mouth. The obscene sound of saliva mixing echoed along side his repeated tapping on her cunt.

The violent little taps send shivers down her spine until she could feel the coil in the pit of her stomach.

When she tried to turn her head away, he gripped her chin and forced his tongue deeper.

It wasn't until his fingers gazed her clit did the coil burst and she came for the second time that night.

Her heart quickened and her moans were consumed by his mouth. He took joy in feeling the vibrations of her pleasure.

As she turned limp in his arms, he molded her to his liking. He grabbed one of her hand and wrapped it around his hard cock. His hand covering her own and forced her to move along his.

Her limp hand flinching under his hold. His cock was big, hard and warm under her hand.

He bucked shamelessly in her palm and huffed in her face.

"Shit," he took their hands off, licked her palm and sucked her fingers quickly before bringing it back to his cock. The slight wetness helping him slide her hand smoothly over him.

He forced her fingers to curve until her nails traced his cock. He twitched when he felt the sensation travel down to his sack.

"Fuck, fuck, I-I can't," he dropped his head back, the muscles in his back tensing as he fell forward.

He let her hand go until he wrapped his strong arms around her and finally pressed his cock on her stomach.

All along, she felt the heat of his cock hovering over her but he didn't let it touch her until now.

He gripped her face with a hand and licked her mouth. He grinded his cock on her naked skin and whimpered.

"Ah, don't, don't," she kept whispering. Her lips dragging along the skin of his chin.

"I won't, I won't," he repeated back. Contradicting his words, he stretched her legs open, and lowered his hips until they pressed against the back of her thighs.

When they finally touched, he hugged her tightly and buried his face in her hair, breathing heavily. Their genitals pressed tightly together until he eventually moved his hips.

Humping until his cock slipped and tugged on the opening of her cunt. She whined everytime his cock dragged at her opening. When he tried to push it in, her hole tightened and his cock slapped back up and slid on her clit.

He kept doing it over and over until eventually, when she accidentally twitched, they both groaned when his cock slipped between her lips. Charlie forced down a groan as he felt a gush of wet warmth envelop his head.

She whined in his arms, the small stretch burning her untouched walls. On an instinct, Charlie mindlessly bucked his hips once and slipped in some more. His head disappearing inside of her. He only stopped when he felt resistance, even then with a nudge of his hips, he felt it break.

Which caused the woman underneath him to cry out.

He pressed light kisses on face as if he was comforting her.

"I know baby, I know," in her dazed state, his name stumbled past her swollen lips.

Charlie lazily bucked his hips as he placed himself above her, his hands on each side of her head. He started to bully his cock in, feeling her inside twist and turn as they learned his shape.

He looked down and pride surged in his chest when he watched her bleed on his cock.

"Ah there's she is, I knew she was holding out for me," he spoke to her cunt as if she was her own being. He kissed his fingertips before lightly taping her swollen clit with it.

He returned his gaze to her face and smiled proudly at her while she tried to hold in her cooes, her nails scratching at his back.

He bend down and down a nipple in his mouth. Sensually sucking and tugging her breasts until they bruised at his touch.

Gradually, as his thrusts went deeper and harder, he let his weight drop in his thrust hurling her into oblivion. He fit her perfectly, filling her completely as she mindlessly curved her back until their pelvic touched. The light pinch of his cock on her cervix had her silently scream.

He rotated his hips at the sight, a chuckle rumbling his chest.

"You are heavenly, dearest girl," his words choked her more than his cock did.

She couldn't understand what made him want her this badly, what made him go beyond despair and ruin.

Charlie forced her legs over his shoulder, before resting his arms on the bed, and under her legs to hold them. He pulled back completely before sliding back in, fucking into her sobbing cunt, cutting off her train of thoughts. She couldn't even moan probably as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. He watched her with a smile, sweat dripping down his chin and landing on her chest.

He was quick to lap it up and quickened his pace, feeling her pussy milking him more and more.

His long veiny cock disappeared into her puffy lips before coming out glistening, "Oh God," she exclaimed as Charlie's nose flared in anticipation. He started to thrust with sharp and hard pounding, letting his desires out on the girl writhing under him.

"Ick," the light noise she let out had her brow srunching, and she tightly gripped his shoulders. She tried to mouth words but his pounding wouldn't let her. Smirking, he rotated his hips, his cock lodged deep and hard while his balls hung heavy against the rim of her ass.

He kissed her forehead gently and with a tender smile, shoved her with all his weight until she suffocated under the pressure of his cock and him.

His heart thundered in his chest when she abruptly cried out again as she felt his manhood graze a particularly sensitive spot near her cervix.

When he hit it again, she violently threw her head back. He was quick to press his hand on the back of her head.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, a silent scream etched on her mouth. He quickened his pace, harder and faster. Every thrust was accompanied by a grunt. Sweats dripped from every pores and his muscles burned.

His eyes shone when he saw his cock get eaten by her cunt, her cream staining the bottom of his cock.

He continued hammering her on his thick rod, stuffing and piercing the curve of her walls. He pressed both their interlocked hands on the bed and began thrusting harder.

"I can't," her words were cut off as she started to squirm under his heavy weight.

She felt her pussy twitch, her walls secured around his length as his thrust grew sloppy.

Her eyes instantly opened when she let out a loud cry, Charlie propped himself up on her as she came undone.

Her release started from deep inside her womb, all the while her vagina walls snugly gripped his cock.

With barely a graze on her clit, he dragged the release out of her, her body twisted dry.

Charlie barely managed to hold his release as he held the base of his cock.

Afraid that if he let himself go, this dream will come to an end.

She was sobbing as she realized that he refused to stop. In a haste, she bit his shoulder when he changed the height of his hips. Her head was digging into his bed as he buried himself back.

He pulled away from her sticky body and held her legs up as he watched himself melt in her.

Her expression turned into a grimace as he stayed still for a moment. Her eyes focused blindly on the ceiling until they crossed, "Fuck," she dragged out the word until he finally moved.

Her mind lost every bit of reasoning, her body ripped apart and remade to his liking with a shift of his hips. She couldn't even remember her own name or who or where she was. All she could feel was him.

Her mouth stayed open as she watched him. He brought his hands to the side of her head, latching on to bed.

He watched as her soaking wet pussy took him in, her clit now red and big, begging to be touched.

Charlie spit in the middle of them, watching as it landed perfectly where his cock and her pussy connected. His saliva was fast to merge with their wetness and faded in their moist skin.

Lost in the pressure, she held his waist and curved her back until she filled any space between them.

Biting his lips, Charlie smacked his hips hard and low. Her body moving up on the bed even when she desperately tried to hold on to him.

He held his breath as he started to pick up his pace. He tried to bring her to the edge again when he slipped out due to how damp she was.

He fussed as he grabbed his drenched cock and shoved it in her smoothly.

He clutched her ankles as her whole body shopk with every pump.

When he finally touched her clit again, her chin pushed down on her chest as she looked down at herself.

Her snag walls were tightly bount to his manhood. She was afraid he would permanently be stuck in her.

With determination, Charlie pulled away, the wet friction music to his ears. He went back in with one deep penetration.

He repeated the motions until he felt her cunt tug his cock and came unexpectedly.

His suppressed orgasm coursing through his whole body. His arms and the back of his thighs trembled form the intensity of it.

His hips kept moving until he felt like he was skinned raw.

His hoarse moans echoed in the room, his head dropping back.

As she watched him become undone, she knew than, this was only his beginning.

And her end.

ACT V

Charlie was on his knees as he listened to her quietly sob. She sat on the corner of his bed, curling in on herself.

Everytime he tried to touch her, she whined as if she was in pain.

He kneeled until eventually her sobs turned to soft sniffles. He murmured her name, approaching her slowly, before carefully laying his head in her lap. She tried to flinch back but his presence remained.

He brushed his face on her warm skin, breathing her scent, keeping it in his lungs until he was forced to exhale.

He didn't say any apologies, knowing he would mean none of them, knowing she had no need for them.

Into the quiet night, he slowly grabbed her hand and forced her hand to pet his hair. She looked back at him cautiously.

She watched as he dragged her hand on his head, petting himself. Before grabbing her other one and placing it on his cheek, their fingers interwining.

Charlie let out an affectionate sigh. Even if he manipulated her hand, it remained the same, her touch was her own.

Eventually, worn out by him, she fell asleep. Tears tracks dry on her cheeks and the fresh tears clung to her lashes.

Quietly, he maneuvered her legs until they laid on his bed. He watched her with lingering eyes.

It was still for a moment, only her stable breathing and his trailing eyes alive into the night.

Slowly, he took off his rosary from the post of his bed. He brought one of her foot and placed it on his lap. He pressed gentle kisses to each toes before he carefully wrapped the rosary on her ankle. He left one final kiss on the skin above the string of beads. 

He knew this will be the only jewellery he could ever give her.

FINAL

On the first floor in the third room of the men's quarters, sat a man.

His naked back was covered with red stripes. Huffs and puffs echoed in the room, with her name occasionally slipping past his lips.

His hand was furiously beating his cock while his other hand tightened over a piece of fabric.

The sweat building up on his broad chest made his skin itch. He tried to keep his moans at bay, however one look at the red stained cloth had him cumming in seconds.

"Ah," he brought the cloth to his nose, breathing in her scent.

That day, he had carefully cut out the mark of their first consummation from his sheet. He had carefully trimmed his sheet and stitched into a small handkerchief. The red stain and their essence were still fresh.

Everytime his yearning consumed him, he would look at it, and the very few times, he let himself smell it.

Remembering her.

[maryangelex]

Good for Me

Captain Price x f!Reader

Summary: You work in intel for Task Force 141 and work very closely with Captain Price. You’ve had a crush on the man for ages and he knows it. He’s turned you down many times knowing he’s way too old for you, except this time he give into temptation.

Warnings: nsfw, age gap, praise kink, p in v sex, fluff to smut, mutual pining, soft dom! price, creampie, smut with plot, unprotected sex, super long and not proofread, huge warning for extreme corniness.

A/N: me, personally, I’m a Simon ride or die bitch I literally only read Simon fanfics… but the abundance of price fanfics made me cave and now I finally get it, so I made this. Enjoy!!!!

You had been working as an intel officer for Task Force 141. This position granted you the pleasure of working with Captain Price very closely. The two of you made a good team and would even say you had a sort of friendship going on besides just being coworkers.

This proximity made things more intimate between the two of you, though. And you would be lying if you said you hadn’t sparked a crush pretty early on into your career with him.

Can anyone blame you, though? John was the full package; tall, handsome, occasionally made you laugh with what would be considered ‘dad jokes’, and he had a perfectly masculine and burly appearance that complimented his kind nature. All of which made you enamored, naughtily pining for him like a schoolgirl crushing on her teacher.

He knew this, of course. Not because he could tell but because you personally told him and continued to make passes at him, hoping he would change his mind and give you a chance. The first time you told him, he was taken off guard by it. A mix of surprise and disbelief, he thought you were kidding at first but you insisted you had no reason to lie. From then on, you two stayed on amicable terms and your crush became something he teased you about and that the two of you bantered together about. But you still clung to that crush, your feelings were never fleeting.

“‘Afternoon, Cap” you announced cheerily as you entered Price’s office with two mugs in hand “Brought ya tea!”

Price sat at his desk, head deep in paperwork, and returned the greeting with a sigh, barely looking up at you.

“Come on, lighten up and let’s take a break. Rome wasn’t built in a day and you sure as hell aren’t gonna finish that stack anytime soon.”

He plopped the file down to the side of his table, away from his sight as he let out a sigh and reclined in his chair, finally looking at you he said “Cheers, doll” as he took the mug in his hand. He took a sip of the contents in the cup and let out a satisfied hum along with a chuckle.

“Just how you like it,” you said taking a sip of your own.

“You just know me so well,” he smiled.

You chatted lightheartedly with him, the usual for how your conversations went with him unless there was a professional matter to discuss. Somehow the conversation came to be about how Price had never been married at his age and you playfully teased him about not settling down.

“I was almost married once,” he sighed, “but my work got in the way, she couldn’t handle the time apart and I don’t blame her for it”. He shrugged it off, a subject that was way in the past for him so no use dwelling on it.

“Well, I work with you so not much distance to worry about” you teased leaning forward to put your elbows on his desk sitting across from him on the other side of it.

“Plus I make you the perfect tea! I’m basically the perfect candidate to be your wife”

“You’ve got a point” he said with a light chuckle, followed by a sigh “I’m just too old for ya, kid”

The room fell silent as you looked down at your fingers rimming the now empty cup. You felt his gaze on him, as if he knew what you were thinking and was waiting for your response.

“Just give me a chance, John” you said looking back at him, meeting his gaze with your slightly pleading one. You knew you looked desperate and naive, but it had just been too long a game of cat and mouse and it wasn’t lighting up for you. You had tried getting over this crush for months, sleeping with other soldiers on the base, going out in various one-time dates. But all you could think about was Price, how it should’ve been him all along, how he’s the right one and all the others felt just so wrong.

Truth be told, Price secretly reciprocated the feelings. He had come to terms with it months ago after he realized you really were perfect and that a connection between the two of you very much existed. You had been occupying his thoughts a bit too often on a daily basis, and there had been times when he had given in on his late night temptations but felt guilty right after.

“It’s 10 years apart, love” he gave you a pained look.

“Who cares, John? I certainly don’t. Hell, my parents are years apart as well and no one gives a shit,” definitely not 10 years apart but you withheld that information from him.

“I’m your superior, doll, and I’m much older than you. It’s just not right.”

You stared at him with wide, beseeching eyes, as if you were gonna start tearing up. But you let out a sigh and shook your head at yourself. You smiled at him, feigning happiness and moved on from the conversation. He returned the smile knowing you were showing him a sign that you wanted to pretend that never happened, same as always, same as all the times he had turned you down before for the same concern about being too old for you.

The next morning was like every other morning. You had let the subject hide at the back of your mind, ignored it as best as you could. As always, it lingered and haunted you, but you continuously evaded it in your mind. Waiting for it to pass like a light cold.

You entered your office ready to start your day, to deal with papers upon papers, report to Price, and have the same chats and laughs with him as every other day that had gone by. Except as soon as you entered your office, an arrangement of flowers stood out like a sore thumb in the center of your work desk.

Asters, baby’s breaths, begonias, and dark pink carnations. You rolled your eyes as you approached it, thinking it was probably one of the soldiers you had most recently gone out with trying to get your attention after a mediocre date. You took the note that stuck out from the bouquet and read:

See you tonight at 8? Meet me in the parking lot.

Dress pretty for me, doll.

Check ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.

Return to sender.

-John.

You read it over and over again, feeling like your eyes were deceiving you. Well, you only knew of one John that called you ‘doll’, and you only knew one John who would do something this corny. But that same John was the one that had frequently expressed platonic feelings for you. Still, you clung onto hope that it really was from him. You ticked the box labeled ‘yes’ on the silly piece of paper, and couldn’t help the beat your heart skipped or the red staining your cheeks as you did so.

Later that day, you walked down the hallway of the base, heading to Price’s office to drop off the files you needed to report to him, and the note rested snug in your pocket. You debated whether you should bring it up, maybe it wasn’t him after all and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself to him more than you did on a daily occurrence. You entered his office and greeted him like always, placing the files on his desk. He greeted you and acknowledged you with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Thanks, love.” Price cleared his throat, “You got anything else for me?” He looked at you with raised brows expectantly.

So it was him, you thought. Your eyes lit up and your face turned scarlet. An involuntary smile crept up on your face, and you dug into your pocket for the note. You placed it on the table face down and without saying anything to him, you turned on your heels and walked speedily out of his office.

Price chuckled to himself and shook his head as he read the contents of the note.

You followed his written commands that night: dressed up at 8. You wore a satin slip dressed that hadn’t been worn to any of your previous rendezvous, as if it had been tucked away in waiting to be worn just for him. You waited in the parking lot like he instructed you and you were checking every second that ticked on your wrist watch, your breath hitching with each one. Until you saw him approach you, dressed in his civies; tight-fitting black shirt and jeans. The shirt contoured every bulging muscle in his body, solid and toned; his jeans fitting like a glove, a little too well in certain places.

He raked his eyes along your body in the light colored satin dress that clung to your body in all the right ways, eyeing you like you were a finely carved sculpture at a museum.

“You look stunning, love” he cooed, then extended his arm for you. “Shall we?”

You laced your arm around his bicep letting him escort you, your smile never leaving your face.

He took you to a bar you both had visited before with the rest of the team. This time it was just the two of you sitting in an isolated, dimly lit booth; a more romantic atmosphere than you had experienced previously the times you had been there with a group of drunken men.

The liquor you two ingested throughout the night was abundant, and it’s effects definitely reflected on you more than him. Your cheeks were burning red with alcohol and your movements were loose and fluid with him. You were carefree and loud and he loved every second of it, definitely getting a good amount of laughs from him. Although you two already had a fair amount of chemistry, courage was a real thing with you; you didn’t feel the slightest bit of shame or shyness with him tonight.

And he was enjoying himself just as much. The thought of how much he had been missing out on for rejecting you sporadically crossed his mind. He thought about how good you were as company, cherished you two’s daily routine, about how much he had been depriving himself of by not letting himself admit to you how he really felt.

Towards the end of the night your table was adorned with evidence of how much you two had drank and a sign that it was time you got back.

“Alright, that’s enough for ya,” he said sliding out of the booth, reaching his hand out for you to follow him. “Don’t want you getting too pissed, yeah?”

You laughed, taking the hand he held out to you and stepping out of the booth. You were tipsy but had control over yourself.

Once you exited the bar, you and Price idled outside before going back to the base, as he put a cigar to his lip and lit it. You watched him intently, observing how the cigar clung to his lips, how his lips wrapped around it.

“What made you change your mind?” You asked as you leaned against the wall next to you. He looked at you, taking a drag and exhaling it.

“Dunno,” he began “wanted to give you a chance, like you said.”

“What’s your verdict?”

He took a moment as he gathered his thoughts, taking another drag and looking into your eyes. He reached his arm to you, his knuckle brushed against your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

“Been missing out on how good you can make me feel. Denied myself the joy of having you around like this…closer than when we’re in the office” He spoke earnestly, taking the cigar from his lips and maintaining it in his hand as he gazed into your eyes.

You took a step closer to him, your eyes never diverting away from his. He stepped closer to you as well.

In his mind, a voice told him this was a mistake. He was your superior, he was much older than you, this would never work out, and you were going to end up hurt. But a louder, more indulgent voice told him to get closer and closer to you, to place his hand on your waist and pull you closer.

Your eyes were dilated in the dimly lit back of the bar and his were dark blue pools that drowned you. You were pulled closer to him, snaking your hand up the arm that pulled you.

“So what happens next?” You asked in a soft and anticipatory voice.

“Do you want this?” He asked, almost a whisper.

You nodded, still not breaking eye contact. Your bodies were flush against each other by this point and your palms laid on his burly chest.

With that confirmation, Price leaned forward and his lips graced against yours. They were plump and soft, his beard and mustache caressing your soft skin as he pressed his lips with yours.

The kiss was longing yet tender and shy simultaneously. He pulled back slightly and leaned back in, this time his lips were slightly parted, hugging yours when they joined again. Your hands slid up his chest to around the back of his neck, entwining into the hair on his nape. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his body melding with yours, one of his hand snaked up your back as the other shifted slightly lower towards your hips, towards the small of your back.

He pulled back, face still centimeters from yours and his eyes meeting yours. The tip of his nose nuzzled yours. One of his hands came up to cup your face, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, before his lips clashed against your own once more. This time, it was more filled with passion, more desire and less reservation. You held your breath as he kissed you, gripping his hair between your fingers and kissing him back just as fervently.

He took another step towards you, guiding your body against the wall behind you. His lips massaged against yours, opening your lips slightly as his tongue pried into your mouth. You welcomed it with the tip of your own, a pleased hum escaping your throat at the feeling.

His body was pressed against yours and your body was against the wall as he held you close and gripped your body, as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you any tighter. The two of you broke away momentarily to catch your breaths before you leaned back in with force and desperation, this time he was the one letting out a pleasured groan. Both of his hands ran down the side of your body as if you were a piece of clay being sculpted on a pottery wheel, then reached for your ass, tightly gripping it, and making you moaned within the kiss.

The sound increased his desire for you, and you could tell not just by the force of his movements and his kisses, but because of the stiffness in his jeans. A hand now slid up your thigh and under the hem of your dress, slightly lifting it against him with a firm grip.

“John…” you moaned between his lips, your hand ran down his front and in between the two of you down to his crotch. You palmed his stiff manhood through his jeans and he let out a groan in response.

“Fuck, baby…” he exhaled, breaking the kiss momentarily “Not here.”

You looked at him puzzled, blown pupils and out of breath.

“You deserve to be fucked properly, sweetheart, not here in this alley. I need to fuck you right…in my bed” he whispered sultrily against your lips before planting a gentle kiss.

He took you into his room, barely able to take his hands off you on the way there. He kissed you deeply and sloppily, too desperate and hard by this point. You couldn’t complain, though, your panties felt soaked and uncomfortable, your pussy desperate for him to touch it.

You stood with him at the foot of his bed. His kisses were messy and wet, his hands groping every bit of your body. He kneaded your ass and slid up your front up to your breasts, cupping each mound of soft flesh in his large calloused hands. His fingers ran under the thin straps of your dress and he slid them down your shoulders and arms, letting the dress fall to the floor with ease, and leaving you in nothing but your white lacy panties. He pulled back to admire your bare body. God, the amount of times he had imagined what it looked like under your clothes, how many times he had fucked into his fist in the late nights that he couldn’t get the thought of you out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He devoured you with his eyes, then his hands returned to cup your breasts, gripping them with care and adoration, your nipples being taken between his index and middle finger.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. Your perfect tits…you’re so fucking perfect” he cooed, his words eliciting a moan from you and a palpitation in between your legs.

“Lay down for me, yeah?”

You complied, letting yourself onto the bed behind you. He palmed himself through his jeans as he looked down at you. He had you right where he wanted you, splayed out in his sheets ready, inviting him to fuck you. He crawled on top of you, your hands reaching to touch his torso. Your hands gripped at the hem of his shirt and hiked it up, silently signally for him to take it off, and he complied, kneeling over you as he tugged the shirt off his back.

Fuck, he was something else. He was godly and sculpted, he belonged in an art exhibit. As he sat back on his haunches and in between your legs, you ran your hands down his toned body, from his chest down to his abdomen and lower to his v-line, arriving at the waistband of his jeans.

“I need you, John,” you practically moaned. “Please”

“You need me, huh?” He smirked. “Go on then, love, ‘s all yours.”

You bit your lip and fumbled to unbutton his jeans, your hands shaky with a mix of shyness and excitement. He took your hands in his and helped you slide the zipper down, then helped you tug his jeans down and maneuvered himself out of them, now staying in his boxers. His length was explicitly contoured by the fabric of his underwear. It was obscene how big and girthy he was, your mouth and pussy watered at the sight. You stroked him through his boxers and he rutted against your hand.

“Come on, sweetheart, take it” he encouraged you, placing his hand on yours and rubbing it on himself, a low groan escaping his lips.

You pulled his boxers down, his cock springing free, and your heart skipped a beat. You had no idea how you’d be able to take that length. He smiled as if he could read your thoughts.

“Stroke it, love, go on.”

And you complied, wrapping your dainty fingers around his cock, making him sigh and cuss under his breath at the feeling of your gentle hands.

You tugged at it, stroking your hands up and down from tip to base. Your thumb rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock, smearing the precum emerging from his slit. His eyes were on you the whole time, his breath ragged and his hips moving rhythmically with your slow strokes.

He reached down to you and took each of your thighs into his hands, spreading your legs open for him to accommodate himself between them. He leaned his body down, his face close to yours as he collided his lips with yours once more. He trailled his tongue from your lips, down to your chin, neck and sternum. His hands moved from your thighs to your breasts, kneading one in one hand, and took the other in his mouth.

He alternated between lapping at the sensitive buds and sucking the mounds, making you mewl and throw your head back at the sensation. The hand that was stroking him joined the other one at tugging the hair on his head to ground yourself.

His hands were all over you before they returned to grip your thighs; his mouth followed the same route, running down your abdomen before he settled cozily between your legs. He looked up at you as he left kisses and nips on the sensitive skin in your inner thighs. His eyes were dark and gleaming with pleasure. You looked like a mess wiggling under his touch, you couldn’t wait for him to finally take your panties off and taste you.

“You wore these for me, hm, baby?“ he rubbed your pussy through the lacy fabric as he looked up at you. “Were you thinking of me fucking you the whole night?”

You nodded shamelessly and it elicited a chuckle from him. “You’re a little slut, aren’t you? Wearing these for me, anticipating for me to fuck you.”

He tugged the panties down your legs, gripping them in his fist as he smelled and tasted the saturated crotch. He let out a satisfied hum before settling them on the other side of the bed. His hand now reaching for your bare pussy, running his thick fingers between your slick wet folds.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me and I’ve barely gotten started”

You moaned desperately at his slow and teasing touch, wiggling your hips to get more friction, but he stopped you by gripping your hips with his other hand.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart, you’re gonna be a good girl and stay still for me” he scolded you as he moved his fingers painfully slow, coating himself in your slick. You obeyed him, like the good girl he wanted you to be for him.

Because you were so obedient and docile, he rewarded you by rubbing his index and middle finger over your throbbing clit, making you suck in a breath and let out a moan. He rubbed the bundle of nerves with his wet fingers, slowly yet with the perfect amount of pressure, it made your eyes shut and your pussy flutter, getting impossibly wetter.

Price was watching every movement you made, his eyes alternating between looking up at you and back down at the sight of your glistening pussy and how his fingers looked on it.

He slid both digits inside your hole at a burning slow pace. The sensation of your hole stretching at the entrance and your walls clenching around them once he was in there made his dick twitch.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, your pussy’s taking my fingers so well. So fuckin’ warm and tight.” He pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy, at first slowly and then increasing his pace little by little. It made you moan in blissful pleasure, your back arching off the mattress, making Price’s grip on your hip increase.

“Remember, doll; be a good girl for me and I’ll reward ya, ‘kay?” He warned, stilling his fingers inside you “Don’t make me have to punish you”

You nodded complacently. “ ‘M sorry, John” you pleaded.

He let out a small chuckle as he kissed your inner thigh again, whispering “that’s my girl” against your skin. He returned to pumping his fingers inside you, his pace increasing. His fingers curled inside you, pressing the spot within you that made you see stars. He played with your pussy so expertly, as if he knew his way around your body like a map he had memorized. He whispered praises as he fucked his fingers into you. You moaned like a madwoman overwhelmed with pleasure, your walls clenching and pulsating against his fingers.

He watched you unravel for a bit, before moving his face close to your pussy, sticking out his tongue to lap at your clit with his fingers slowing down their pace in and out of you. His tongue was flat, lapping at your stimulated clit at the rhythm of his fingers. It made you borderline scream and clamp down on his fingers.

“J-John, please!” You pleaded, not knowing at what, maybe pleading for him to have some mercy on you and grant you release. It drove him crazy to hear you say his name, sending a shock straight to his cock, motivating to lick and suck on your clit and his fingers fucked you harder and faster.

You were right there, right there, right at the verge of cumming. His other hand that once had a firm grip on your hip now loosened and let go, migrating to play with one of your breasts.

Now free, you rutted your hips against his mouth, his beard and mustache were coated in your juices that you smeared the more you moved on him. He moaned against your pussy and at the sensation of one of your hands tugging at his hair. Your other hand found itself gripping the sheets next to you. You were a mess of moans and begs for John to let you cum.

“Cum for me, darling, come on. Be a good fucking girl and cum for me, princess” he said against your pussy before returning to devour it.

You felt the pressure in your stomach well up, overwhelming you until you snapped and broke euphorically. You choked out a final moan as your back arched up against the mattress, your thighs closing around Price’s head; pussy clasping around his fingers and juices spilling out onto his face. You let out a sob as you came undone.

Price looked up at you, leaving kisses on your pussy as he removed his fingers from you.

“Atta girl,” he said softly. “You’re so perfect when you cum for me, love”

You were breathless and your mind was in a haze. You felt Price scale up your body and place his wet mustache against your cheek, planting a gentle kiss on it. You faintly heard him praise you, how good you did for him, how perfect you were.

“Look at me, darling,” he said as his hand grasped your jaw and turned your face to look at him, your eyes fluttered open and gazed at his with blown, dazed pupils.

“Will you give me another one, baby? You gonna let me fuck you once more?”

You nodded drunkenly and exhausted, “Y-yes… fuck me, John”

He smiled at you kindly, stroking your face with his hand and whispering “you’re so good for me, sweet girl”

He reached down to pump his painfully hard cock with the hand that was coated in your slick, letting out a soft moan, and aligned the tip at your entrance. His body weighed on yours, the two of you perfectly snug against each other. Your hands rested on the sides of your head on the bed and your legs were spread open for him, his body nestled between them. Slowly, he pushed his thick length into you, splitting you open. Your mouth fell open with a slow moan emerging from you. He moaned in unison with you at the feeling of your cunt encapsulating his yearning cock.

His forehead rested against yours, and the hand on your jaw moved to your neck, comfortably resting on it as he bottomed out into you, slowly and steadily. Once he was completely inside you, his pelvis flush against your clit, he stayed still for a moment, feeling how your walls fluttered around his cock.

Then, he began to thrust and gyrate his hips into you, at first slowly and then picking up the pace. You were still high off the first orgasm and your cunt was overstimulated by the new intrusion of Price’s cock. You were in overwhelming pleasure, clenching your cunt with every thrust from Price. Your eyes were locked with his, listening to his soft panting breaths that matched your own. You laid there taking his cock, feeling like you had died and gone to Heaven.

As you regained more of your conscience and strength, your arms rose and rested on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and holding him close. His free hand grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around him, granting him a deeper angle within you, making you moan as his cock hit that spot inside you once more.

You already felt the second wave washing over you. The feeling of him thrusting his cock inside of you was euphoric. The way his body moved against yours, how his hands held your body so tightly and bruising, the sound of his pants and choked out moans mixed with the sound of skin slapping against skin. This is all you’ve been wanting all this time. You had been waiting for him to fuck you silly since the moment you met him, since you realized how desperate and infatuated you were with him. And now you had him, chasing his release, fucking you perfectly and hungrily. It made your heart race and your ears ring, your skin covered in goosebumps, your stomach tying into a knot as another orgasm built up inside of you.

“I’m close, baby,” he moaned against your lips, hands firmly gripping your hips as he pound against you.

“Cum inside me, John” you begged breathlessly “make me yours, please”

It drove him crazy to hear you beg like this, making him ram his cock into you relentlessly.

“You’re mine, Y/N” he growled “You’re only fuckin’ mine, my perfect girl”

His words and the speed and depth of his fucking made you see white again. Your second orgasm hit you like a truck as you clenched around his cock firmly, moaning against his mouth, legs shaking in his grasp.

The tightness of your pussy made him snap, shooting hot shots of cum into you. He moaned in unison with you, trembling and hips faltering as he flooded your insides.

The two of you came in tandem, holding each other tightly as you came down from your mutual highs. He kept slowly and messily pounding into you, stuffing his cum into you.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he sighed “so full with my cum. My girl takes my cock so well, so good for me.” He said as he peppered kisses over your sweaty face, stroking your hair with the hand that once held your neck.

You hummed at his words “all yours, John, ‘m all yours”. You were breathless and cockdrunk, your limbs going limp on the mattress. He chuckled softly at your words, his cock falling out of you and his fingers reaching down to stuff his escaping cum back into you, making you wince at the sensation.

He got off the bed, heading to the en suite bathroom to clean himself and coming back to wipe in between your legs with a damp wash cloth. You let him take care of you giving him an appreciative hum. He smiled at you as he did so, whispering praises. When he finished you rolled into a comfortable position in the bed, feeling the bed sink as his body came to join yours. He big spooned you, embracing you tightly against him. His hand pet your hair, fingers tucking the loose strands behind your ear. You fell asleep under his touch and he watched you, feeling smitten with you in his arms.

A/N: this word count is fucking CRAZY!!! I’m sorry for the length yall I got carried away. But if you’re here, hope you enjoyed!!!! Love ya <3

P.S. for funsies, look up the meaning of the flowers in the arrangement for extra corniness.