#that needs to be allowed to go off but a woman that simply wants right to be done by her and no more harm like she doesn't want to be aroun

[one-sunny]

Wrong Time | The (Real) Break

15: When you move to a new town, you don’t expect to run into your high school sweetheart. Old feelings begin to arise and you are suddenly faced with the complexity of relationships, communication, and the struggle for true connection.

Warning: 18+ only. contains sexual themes and content, use of cigarettes, toxic relationships, toxic behaviors, mentally/ emotionally abusive behaviors, gaslighting, destructive behaviors, miscommunications, complex feelings, jealousy, anxiety, loneliness, some reader x Ace, slow burn, angst, cheating, mentions of suicide (used manipulatively)

Sanji feels as if he exists freely for the first time in months. As if the wool was pulled from his eyes. As if he had been manually breathing for so long and has finally taken a breath on his own.

Manipulative.

That’s what you had called her. Vera has used the word many times to refer to others in Sanji’s life, but it had never felt right. Now, with weeks of resentment building towards his girlfriend, he realized that it finally sounded right.

Vera was manipulating him for so long. Making him feel as if he had to walk on eggshells and read off of a mental script to make her happy. The sick feeling and the anxiety had been because of her. He finally felt free of it.

But Sanji was a man. A real man who needed to have a real conversation.

He doesn’t wait. Not like you said he should. He arrives at Vera’s apartment just after leaving yours, pounding on the door, silently begging for it to open. She had been blowing up his phone, so he was well aware that she was awake.

The door is thrown open and Vera stares at him long and hard. “You haven’t been answering the phone.” She simply states, eerily calm. Words are poised on her tongue and ready to strike. But Sanji brushes past her to force his way inside. He didn’t care what was going on with her right now. It had to happen tonight.

“Vera, listen-“

“Where have you been?” Her voice is clipped, expecting.

“Listen.” He repeats sternly. Her brows raise and her arms cross, hand waving him on from its position tucked in her chest. “We have to break up-“

“I knew you were gonna try this crap again.” She immediately snaps. Sanji forces himself to hold strong. “What, did you see your friends again? Talk to one of them? Is that where you’ve been?”

“No-“

She laugh, loud and edging on the side of a woman gone mad. “So you’ve been with her.” She crosses the room to pick up her phone. Her hand shakes it in the air dramatically and then she is speaking the name of your apartment complex. “I have your location, you idiot.”

Sanji takes a deep breath through his nose. None of this mattered to him anymore. She didn’t matter to him anymore. “Yeah, I have.”

Vera’s face drops to a look of concern that Sanji has never witnessed before. She genuinely looks taken aback. As if that answer was entirely unexpected. As if she realizes her control over him is slipping away. “What?” The words are barely above a whisper. A vicious rage rises up inside of her. “What?!” She finally shrieks at him.

It makes Sanji jump, the sound threatening to pierce his ear drums. “She needed a ride and I was there for her-“

“Oh, oh wow.” Vera places a hand on the counter and leans back, as if processing the information. “You slept with her, didn’t you?” Her voice raises. “Didn’t you?!”

“No, I didn’t sleep with her.” Sanji almost backs down when he sees the look in her eyes. But he can’t allow himself to give in. “But I kissed her.”

Vera’s eyes widen at the revelation that he wasn’t under her thumb anymore… She could turn this around. She was sure of it. Close to eight months of practice sure. “You…” Her voice cracks. She stares at him, unblinking, until her dry eyes blur and well up in tears. “You cheated on me?” Sanji bows his head, he wasn’t proud of it, but he still wouldn’t want to change what happened. “I thought-“ She hiccups. “I thought you loved me? I thought we were going to get married one day! But you.” She presses her palms to her face to hide the fact that she wasn’t able to produce anymore tears. And to project her voice more.

“I did. And I’m sorry that I did that to you-“

“All that crap about being a real man and treating a lady right.” Her fake sobs grow louder. Sanji’s heart squeezes. But just as he is about to approach her, your image pops into his mind, and he stills mid step.

“Vera, I’m sorry, but I’m breaking up with you.”

Vera panics. “But- but I told you before that I would die without you.” Her hands drop from her face and her eyes speak desperation. “Sanji I will kill myself if you leave me. That will be on your hands.”

Sanji’s eyes close for a brief moment and he sucks in a deep breath, remembering the smell of your perfume on your skin. The taste of it. “No you won’t.” He shocks himself by speaking the statement.

“Y-yes I will.”

“Vera.” Sanji’s voice is surprisingly stern. “No you won’t. You’re just,” He shakes his head and makes a strangled noise in his throat. Of course, he knows it’s all fake, but he can’t just stamp down all the feelings he once had for her. “You’re being manipulative.”

She pauses for a long moment. Stares at him. Then her expression shifts. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her words are void of emotion. “You’re making things up in that stupid little head of yours, Sanji.”

“No I’m not.” Sanji bites his lip. Hard. “You can’t keep doing this to me. Not anymore. This is over.”

“Over? Do you think you’ll even be able to function without me? You were so broken before me, Vinsmoke. Always having nightmares about what daddy did to you- I fixed that!” She’s shouting at him, but it doesn’t make any sense. The nightmares still happen. Lately, she has taken a leading role. “You are so pathetic, Sanji.”

“We’re done, Vera.” Sanji makes a break to move past her but she quickly blocks his way.

“No we are not! You’re throwing away someone who loves you for some high school fling! Some slut!” Anger flares up inside of him.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“She is never going to love you, Sanji. She broke up with you once and she will absolutely do it again.” She is screaming directly in his face now. “I’m the only one who will ever love you,” She leans in ever closer. “And that’s a hard task for me, Vinsmoke, because you’re so pathetic. You’re unlovable, Sanji, but I make it work.”

A string of spit flicks into his face. Acid fills his throat and he feels like he might be sick again. That she is causing him to be sick again.

“I know it. Your father knows it. Your brothers. Even your mother knew how pathetic you are.” She pushes his shoulder for emphasis, his body swaying with the movement. “And your little girlfriend is going to realize it too. That you’re worthless.” She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “I guarantee she’s not going to try as hard as I do.”

Sanji steps back from her orbit. “You’re wrong.” And suddenly the door is an unstoppable goal. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of there. As soon as possible.

“You will never find someone like me!” She is shouting after him.

He chances a glance over his shoulder, hand on the door, squeezing it tight. “Good.” He hears a scream of frustration behind him as he waltzes out the door. Sanji doesn’t stop walking- running down the stairs and out the door- until he is safely in his locked car.

Her words reverberate in his mind, bouncing back with power. It was all mind tricks. He was well aware of that fact. But it was hard to ignore the things that he has been told since childhood.

His eyes flicker to the clock. Two in the morning. You were probably asleep. You had expected him to deal with this part tomorrow, after all.

So Sanji forces himself to make the drive home, used to it to a point that he can zone out and still safely pull into his own complex. Then he is forcing himself out of the car, moving his limbs as if each one required a hefty amount of energy to maneuver. All the way inside and to his own door. All of his brain power forced into fumbling with his keys.

Until he is inside and can collapse on the couch, far too physically and mentally drained to even make it to bed. He pulls out his phone to send you a message. Vying to talk to you. Missing you. Craving your touch.

His shoulders sag as he realizes that he doesn’t have your number anymore. Vera deleted it. So he tosses his phone aside and allows himself to lay back against the cushions.

Words echo in his mind- Vera’s. His brothers. His fathers. All calling him worthless. Telling him that he’s nothing. Tears begin to flow freely without him even realizing it.

Exhaustion takes over him.

✐ ᝰ ✐ ᝰ ✐ ᝰ ✐ ᝰ ✐ ᝰ

Sanji’s throat burns when he wakes up. His back aches and his stomach turns. And yet, he felt better than he has in months. Despite the burning in his eyes and the pounding of his head, he jumps up from his couch with a smile on his face.

It was far later than he would have liked to wake up, but he didn’t really care. Because he would get to see you. To hold you. Never let you go… ever again. It made his heart flutter and he twirled in place in a love sick daze.

Sanji doesn’t even bother changing, still adorned in sweats and a hoodie from last night. He bursts out of the house with a bounce in his steps. The negative thoughts wouldn’t win this one. Not when he was so close.

The drive to yours seems to take forever.

Until suddenly he’s bursting up the buildings stairwell, taking them two at a time, desperate to be by your side. When he finally makes it to your floor, he swings the stairwell door open and breathes a sigh of relief. Just down the hall. He was so close.

When your front door opens.

And out steps Portgas D. Ace with a dumb, satisfied look on his face. He holds a plastic bag in one hand and his nose is buried in his phone. The elevator is about halfway between Sanji and your door. Ace never spots him.

Sanji feels his knees buckling from underneath him. He catches himself against the wall, leaning his forehead against the hard plaster, feeling very ill. He might throw up. He might pass out.

He was certainly going to cry.

Everything from the night before comes crashing down on him. From the argument with you, to the intense make out session, to Vera. To her every word. How pathetic he was. How unloveable he is. How you were going to realize all of these things.

Maybe Sanji truly was unloveable.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 16

Taglist: @thekatisspooky @teacarby @zoecelestine @vespidphoenix @mere-mortifer @sagyunaro @dailybrekker @meow-0x0

[dykedvonte]

I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.

I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?

The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[xazse]

hiii pookie I LOVED your hybrid post like it got me foaming from the mouth ngl 🫶 you're so talented!!

If you're into it, can we get cowhybrid! reader and Farmer!Gojo specifically please and thank you? I need to see the reader all needy and desperate and Gojo being the only one who can truly give her release and and what she truly needs (feel free to remix or add anyone/anything that you please)

If you're not into it, please ignore this ask instead of refusing because I get embarrassed hihi🎀🫶 anyways mwah mwah love u take care pookie

ANOTHER TRY?

Notes: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED MY WORK!!! and to the second ask I’m very happy you requested that bull!hybrid work lLOVEDDD WORKING ON IT!! You guys are so creative I need to eat ur brain!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A PT2 I SEE YOU GUYS!!! (IF UR READING THIS TO MY OTHER INBOX OFC YOU CAN BE 🪬 ANON!!)

Pairings: CowHybrid!Reader x Farmer!Gojo

Warnings: Lactation + big!boobedReader + implied chubby!reader + nipplesucking + grinding + mean!Satoru + pussy!slapping + teasing.

Gojo has spoiled you for far too long it makes his blood boil and temples wrinkle when you continue to go see Toji and Suguru, it becomes a habit for you to come back in the early mornings after having a night of “fun.”

Confronting said men proved to be so fucking useless, they just laughed in his face when he said he’d kick both of them to the curb should they continue to corrupt you.

“You need us Satoru, why are you allowed to have your nightly routines but she cant? It was gonna happen eventually.” Tojis face was decorated with a fat sneer, all those times he tried to make sure you stayed as far as possible were all for naught, it’s hilarious seeing him seething behind a cool facade.

“Never knew what Toji seen in the woman but now I completely understand his point.” Suguru yelled from where he was transporting some wood.

Talking to them proved to be useless, as a little payback he made them clean the shed from top to bottom.

Trudging back to the main house in his thick boots Satoru comes to face you relaxing on the couch without a damn care in the world.

Why is he trying to get them to be on his level when he should be punishing you, you’re the one who didn’t listen, you’re the one sneaking out every night. He doesn’t know why he feels this hold on you, you’re such a beautiful girl that he can’t help but keep you in this small bubble.

When your eyes land on him you don’t say any kind of greeting, simply ignoring his presence for the movie on the huge ass tv he bought for you and eating the expensive food he bought for you.

You look extremely good right now, your fat boobs not swollen, but your pretty lips are. Satoru won’t say it but his pants tighten at the thought of what they do to you.

He needs you right now, he’ll make it up to you as much as he can.

He approaches you calmly and collected, sitting down at the edge of the couch where your legs are propped up, you still don’t acknowledge him. His trained hands start circling on your soft supple skin, you surprisingly don’t push him away. You give Satoru an inch he’ll take a mile.

He starts groping your thighs, the pudgy things hold within the creases of his hand. He pushes your thighs apart and gets a good look at your panties: you always choose to walk around the house like this.

They’re extra tight the way they emphasize your fat pussy, the groan that slips from his lips aren’t-something he tries to hold back, he needs you to know how much he wants you, especially wants you all to himself.

The rise and fall of your chest makes you look so cute, why are you so shy all of a sudden? You’re averting your eyes as well.

Satoru starts teasing your clothed folds, dragging his thick finger up and down, he pushes extra hard on your clit eliciting a small moan from you. He continues this for a little, he needs you wet to take him properly.

He peels off your soddened panties and positions himself above you, finally face to face with you. Your boobs are the first thing he attacks, pulling on your shirt and letting them spill out, the little droplets of milk call to him. He’s grabbing one and putting it into his mouth: he loves your taste so sweet like honey as it cascades down his throat so smoothly.

“Nghm… Toru..” finally you’ve decided to grace him with your sultry voice.

He bites down a little on your nipple making you jump away. He reels you right back in and sucks even harsher, there’s barely any milk left but he’s going to make sure he gets his full.

“Toru.” You call his name so panicked and yet you’re grinding against his fully hard cock. He’s so desperate in the moment that he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock bob free.

His fat tip prods agaisnt your folds, messing with your sticky wetness, he smears it on his tip even grinding down on your clit, but he doesn’t put it in, you don’t deserve that.

He teases you, pretending he’s going to give you what you want just to take it all away.

“Please…” a harsh and loud smack is delivered straight to your clit, you yelp and buckle your legs closed.

“Shirt, take your shirt off.” He commands, of course you’re gonna listen, Satoru has never taken that tone with you.

Your boobs now freely spill for him to gaze at. He spreads your legs back open.

“I��m gonna give you ten slaps, close your legs for even one I’m restarting. Understood?” You nod and your ears move along with it. He likes this look on your face: confusion, arousal and a little bit of fear.

On the first slap you make the mistake of shutting your legs closed: completely an accident but he’s having none of it, he hits your little clit again and again.

“Ahn..” you’re still so fucking wet by the sixth slap, creating a nasty mess that drips to your ass. Gojo’s cock is still throbbing, he jerks himself off, smearing his pre all over.

By the tenth slap you’re gone, completely dazed and only able to whine outloud, he decides that you’ve had enough with the tears that sit on your eye line. He pushes your legs back and lines his weeping tip. The feeling of sliding into your sopping wet cunt is better than any pussy he’s ever had.

His strokes against you are fast even though he should be letting you adjust, the sounds of skin against skin meeting each other is downright lewd.

He tells you to rub your nipples, it adds so much more stimulation that you can’t find it in you to hate it.

His cock drags agaisnt your walls over and over, till you can’t feel anything but the sensitivity of your nipples and the twitching of his fat cock.

He fucks you like that all night, even when you’re meant to meet Toji and Suguru, you can’t stop creaming around farmer Gojos length and nor do you want to.

[darnell-la]

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

[alfascorpiionux]

Astro notes ~ part 3

Aquarius Sun: can be surprisingly self-sacrificing. They are private people who let only very few select people close. The evolved version of this placement is very sweet if a little clumsy and devoted, sometimes to the wrong people.

Libra Sun: much like Leo Sun, could be quite vain, perhaps not in as pronounced of a manner, but for sure there is a sense of entitlement, at least on the intellectual front. Indecisive in love and probably keep their options open for some time.

Aries Moons: could be quite shy and indecisive. They could be bottling up their emotions and then explode, depending on other placements.

Especially the woman may feel the need to temper her own intensity/reactions if she feels it’s not received well. Or she may simply not have had the chance to openly discuss what she really feels. Either way, the intensity is there and they can’t hide what they feel forever. From what I’ve noticed, these natives definitely have a mind of their own and are quite independent.

Virgo Mercuries: you’re very good at explaining things aren’t you? People may look for you if they need guidance as you are very patient and methodical and definitely like learning things more in depth. You explain things in a manner everybody understands.

However, it may be difficult for you to express what you really feel or you don’t want to seem vulnerable. It’s okay to be less cerebral and precise and let go once in a while. Allow yourself some drama/chaos. Very few things in life are as we’d imagine them. Don’t close yourself off. There might be people wishing to be there for you but you don’t let them.

Pisces Mars: do you realise your laid-back, “always-go-with-the-flow” attitude pisses others off? Many time they might not know where to place you. You might be super hard-working and still people may judge you for seemingly not doing enough. You are creative and spiritual which attracts others but at the same time your passive-aggressiveness, or victim mentality are off-putting. Conflict is necessary at times. It helps us learn from our own mistakes and those of others and facilitates our growth. Don’t avoid it. Also, don’t seek the most roundabout way to get what you want. Sometimes asking for it is enough.

Aquarius Mercury: there is a real possibility of speech difficulties being present. The native has many ideas but finds it difficult to put them into words. There is a “fizzy” quality to the way they speak. They can get super passionate about certain topics and amaze others with the knowledge they accumulate, the theories they develop or conclusions they reach.

Favours facts, reason and logic in their communication over emotional expression. They may be huge nerds, give off mad scientist vibes or be the loners always lost in their thoughts.

Many personal planets in 2nd house: your property is your little baby, yes? With this placement there is a real possibility of falling into greed. You certainly want to make money and have one or multiple nice properties to go home to. A lot more than other people do. You are a hard worker and provider for your family.

Depending on other placements, giving and/or receiving gifts could be your love language. You love having your own money (lots of it!) and spending it to your heart’s content. You could totally be into business and make a successful entrepreneur. Be careful though: never let your goal of making money overshadow everything else in your life. Personal relationships: love, family, friendships are very important. Stop putting them at the very end of your priorities list.

Many personal planets in 10th house (especially Sun, Mercury, Mars): you are the definition of a hard-worker. You love doing things right, if possible excellently. Praise and gratitude in your profesional life please you like few other things can. Sure, you work to get money, but more than anything it’s because you feel it’s your responsibility to handle. Like your job gives special meaning to your life. Makes you different from the rest of the world in a good way.

Work troubles, failures could affect you more than other people, shaking your belief in yourself and your abilities. Same as with 2nd house placements, or maybe even more: take a very good look at your priorities list. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you don’t need relationships. Because you know you don’t really believe it either. Make space for people to enter your life and to get to know you and be with you. Living for your career alone is a lonesome and ultimately unsatisfying path.

Mercury in 3rd house: communication plays an important role in your life, for better or for worse. If you are a good at expressing yourself then it’s a gift and blessing. If not, then it’s a horrid curse. The way you express yourself has a strong impact on those around you. Stop denying the obvious. Being an introvert and a recluse doesn’t excuse tardiness in communication and leaving things up to misinterpretation. It only creates headaches for everybody involved, including yourself!

There is a real potential to become a charismatic, witty, sharp-minded individual with this position as well as a good multitasker. You’re an adaptable and very curious learner who needs mental stimulation. You may find it easier than others to learn new languages.

Lilith in 5th house | Saturn in 1st, 5th, 7th house | Aspects between Saturn an Venus/Mars: you may reject physical affection or feel a diminished need for it. You may also have an unusual relationship to physical touch, needing it in surprising moments, or just in specific ways.

Chiron in 8th house: attracts situations and people that hurt them one way or another. A deeply karmic placement. The wounds are centered around intimacy, trust, shared-resources, loss and transformation. You may find it very hard to trust people and let them close. You fear losing the people close to you. There could be struggles with power and control in your personal relationships. In order to heal, doing shadow work and spiritual practices is a good choice. You could use crystals, music, energy healing or whatever resonates with you the most. Also redefining what intimacy means to you is of special importance.

Lilith in Leo: could attract toxic people in love, individuals who don’t value them for the beautiful souls they actually are. Power struggles are possible.

On the upside, they are very charismatic, individualistic and captivating people with plenty of creativity. There is an authoritative air to the way they carry themselves. They have amazing style and always feel the need to look strong in public. They have a strong ego and are quite stubborn. They love getting plenty of attention, though they might not admit it’s true.

A person with Lilith in Leo probably had one or both parents who very emotionally distant/neglectful and it could indicate having a highly strict, even dictatorial father.

Instead of constantly looking for validation outside, look inside of yourself. You are worthy exactly the way you are, you charming soul. You need not prove a thing to anyone or get anybody’s attention. It’s a foul tarp that’ll make you sink lower the further you try to move. Other people’s opinion of you it’s just an opinion and that’s all. How do you actually see yourself? What is truly of importance in your life? Those are questions you should ask yourself.

1st house Lilith: a conflicting relationship when it comes to body image, self-expression, self-confidence or your sexuality. Since childhood you may have felt rejected by other people and not because you said or did anything upsetting but just by the virtue of being yourself. It’s like they can sense the rebellious, wild energy you embody and feel intimidated by it. You may feel like you don’t really fit in with any group of people. Being shy, insecure and having weak boundaries in childhood could be very likely.

Body-image issues: people might be making many comments about your body or you might feel insecure about the way you like, constantly feeling like you could look better it’s not enough. Generally this placement is said to give a very beautiful and attractive body with darker eyes and hair.

Many people likely feel attracted to you and your presence definitely makes itself known in a room.

Self-expression issues: you may find that people purposefully ignore what you say or are pissed when you open your mouth even to ask a simple question. You may feel very insecure about your voice or the way you express yourself. You may find it very difficult to find people on the same wavelength as you and building authentic and close relationships also might not come easily.

Self-confidence and boundaries: they are usually developed as the native grows in age. In youth these people can be quite shy.

On the upside: you exude uniqueness, wild and raw sexual energy and you definitely have a magnetic presence that draws others in.

The key with this Lilith placement is to accept yourself and stand up for yourself no matter what. Have confidence in your worth as a person and strong boundaries. Never let anybody disrespect you. Not once. It could otherwise become a habit. Many people will like you while others will hate you. It’s just the way it is. Might as well accept that you are different from others, embrace it and make the absolute best out of it.

Thanks for reading!! Hope my observations resonate with you. Would love to chat you guys.😄🩷

[hard-core-super-star]

we were forever [w.maximoff]

pairing: sugarmommy!wanda maximoff x sub!reader

summary: there's only one thing that can soothe your insecurites about your relationship with wanda: giving her pleasure no one else can.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> dom/sub dynamics; brief allusions to pet play {W calls R puppy once}; legal age gap; mommy kink; technically power bottom wanda; cunnilingus {W receiving}; fingering {W receiving}; grinding/humping; body worship?; mentions of insecurity {including body insecurity}; accidentally more tender and vulnerable than planned; NOT proofread

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: it took me far too long to write this part but i hope the wait was worth it. i don't think anyone will be surprised if i said i got attached to this AU, right? i'm not sure what comes next for these two but there WILL be another part. and hopefully it won't take as long to arrive. hope you enjoy <3

[part one | ]

* * * * * * *

Being with Wanda came with a lot of surprises.

Usually, it was the material kind.

A new necklace, an expensive blazer, a collection of sex toys that made your face warmer than the sunlight that streamed through her windows on an early morning. Nothing was like anything you'd ever experienced before.

It wasn't just the money or the gifts, it was the relationship itself. Or well…the dynamic. You still weren't exactly sure what to call what the two of you had going on.

The uncertainty only added to your own insecurities, your worries that you were nothing more than a temporary toy for her to play with.

Because why wouldn't you be? Wanda was rich, older than you, a successful businesswoman with no time for games.

And yet here you are, with this gorgeous woman on your lap, looking at you with nothing but adoration in her eyes. Adoration for speaking up and asking for something. Not just anything, though.

Asking for a brief moment of control.

A small glimmer of dominance.

Now that's a surprise if you've ever seen one.

Then again, Wanda loves keeping you on your toes. Except tonight, you're giving her a run for her money. Meeting her at every twist and turn with a surprise of your own.

"Sweetheart," she says, voice soft as silk. "I'm going to need words."

You'd almost forgotten what was going on. The needy request you'd made to get to touch her for once, to give her pleasure instead of simply taking it. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the routine you two had going on but you needed the change.

Needed the reassurance that she wanted you. That she needed you just as much as you needed her.

"I want to touch you, Mommy," you reply, giving her the cutest puppy dog eyes you can muster. "…please."

You add the please just to sweeten her up a little more. Not that you need to, she's already staring down at you with pure adoration.

"Yeah?" Her hands grip your wrists and she slowly guides them under her blazer, encouraging you to help her undress. "You want to make Mommy feel good, angel?"

Your nod is instant, just like the wandering hands that help the older woman shrug her blazer off. Instead of moving to remove her button-up shirt, you grip her hips. "Can I? Can I please?"

You're met with a laugh. Not the sharp, teasing, sound she uses when she's in a mean mood but a soft, affectionate sound. One that makes your heart skip a beat and reminds you she's willing to do anything for you.

"How can I say no to that?"

Instead of answering her, you make your move. Your grip on her tightens and you move her down onto the couch, her laughter returning and lighting up the space around you. Even your growing need is forgotten as you focus on the sound, on doing everything you can to hear it over and over again.

It's a thought far more romantic than what you usually allow yourself but you can't help it. The way she looks at you, the way she responds to your touches, it only serves to make you fall harder for her. To open your heart to her despite the danger that it could bring.

The soul-crushing reality that she might not want anything more than what you already have. That she might now want you to be anything more than a pet.

The thought makes you cringe so you push it away in the only way you know how.

As soon as Wanda's back hits the couch, you give her a second to get comfortable before you practically pounce on her, lips attaching to her stomach. One of her hands comes up to tangle in your hair, the contact more grounding than commanding.

"There you go," she coos, unable to stop herself. "You're so cute like this."

Even though her words make you flush, you don't allow yourself to get distracted. The feeling of her skin beneath your lips gives you more than enough to focus on even as your hands wander.

You rest your hands on her hips as your mouth trails a path downward, stopping for a brief second to nip at her barely-there abs. Even though she never voices them, you know the insecurities about her body that she holds. Especially when people stare at the two of you, your age-gap obvious to wandering eyes.

You've never minded the age difference, though. Never seen anything in the older woman's body except perfection. Inches and inches of skin that deserve worshiping.

Your mouth moves downward until you reach the zipper of her trousers. "Can I…?" You trail off, allowing your eyes to drift up toward her own.

The sight of her makes your breath catch in your throat.

She has her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her vibrant green eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. In that moment, she's the most perfect sight you've ever seen.

"Go ahead, angel. Take them off."

Her words encourage you to keep going, your teeth catching her zipper and slowly pulling it down. The slowness almost makes you want to pull away and simply use your fingers but the way Wanda's grip on you tightens convinces you to not stop.

When you finally manage to get the zipper down, you allow your hands to move once again and slide her pants down her legs. She lifts herself up enough for you to get her underwear down, and the sight of her arousal makes you drool.

You don't even get the clothes out of the way, simply let them bunch up underneath you before you're moving between her spread legs, your hands holding her thighs open.

"Gorgeous," you mutter.

Since you're too focused on what's in front of you, you miss the way she blushes at your words, her chest tinting the softest shade of pink. "Don't tease me, sweetheart."

All you do is hum, leaning in until everything disappears except the smell of her arousal and the feeling of her skin beneath your tongue.

Your mouth finds its way onto her cunt, your tongue exploring her folds before teasing her clit just to hear her gasp. You don't even have to look up to know her head's thrown back already and you put yourself to use by wrapping your lips around her already swollen clit.

Maybe you're depraved but the evidence of her arousal, of her desire, helps you quell the remaining doubts about your relationship. No one else can see Wanda like this. No one else can make her feel as good as you do. That's the one thing you're sure about.

Mainly because her moans let you know you're doing everything right.

"Fuck, y/n." The sound of her voice makes you subconsciously buck your hips, slowly grinding against the fabric beneath you. "Just like that, baby, making me feel so good."

Her approval makes you double your efforts, sucking lightly on her clit and drawing circles on it with your tongue. Your fingers quickly move up her thigh and slide underneath your chin before two slide right into her soaked cunt.

The intrusion makes her gasp, her walls clenching around you as you work inside, drawing more beautiful sounds out of her. "Oh, don't stop, sweetheart."

As if you'd ever even think to stop.

You move your fingers in and out of her pussy, your tongue working overtime on her clit. Her hips start thrusting into your eager mouth as she slowly loses control of herself, giving in to the pleasure clouding her mind.

You meet her halfway, keeping up your movements and ignoring everything else.

You're so caught up in making her feel good that you don't even realize the way you're grinding down against the fabric of her pants until her free hand taps your hip. "Keep going-"

Her pleasure morphs into your own, her moans spurring you on to work harder which in turn makes your hips move faster. There are far too many layers in the way but that doesn't stop your clit from twitching or your underwear from getting soaked.

"Wanna make you cum, Mommy," you whisper, your desire almost lost among the sound of her wetness.

"Yeah?" Wanda answers. "You wanna be a good girl for Mommy, darling?"

"Mhmmm, please."

Your pleading is what gets to her. You know exactly what it does to her, especially when you can feel her clenching uncontrollably around you, soaking your chin.

"Oh, fuck-" She groans, her hips twitching beneath you.

You take that as your cue, sucking harshly on her clit while she grinds against your fingers.

Like a hairtie snapping, Wanda suddenly lets go, her orgasm crashing into her all at once.

Your movements don't stop, though, helping her ride out the overwhelming pleasure that makes her vision swim. Your fingers slide out of her only for your tongue to dive down, lapping up her release until she's far too sensitive to allow more contact.

"Easy, puppy," she says, her voice a touch too breathless to sound anything but soft. "Mommy's sensitive."

Her fingers tug your hair until you get the hint and allow her to pull you away. You're panting as you rest your forehead against her stomach, nails digging into her thigh.

"Please-" You moan, voice hoarse. "Need to cum."

It's only then that you realize how wound up you are. Your hips move frantically as you chase every bit of pleasure you can, eyes trained on Wanda's face. On the blush on her cheeks, the inviting curve of her neck, the teeth marks on her bottom lip.

She's so gorgeous you could cry.

Or combust.

Or both at the same time, considering your movements.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," she replies, not having the heart to tease you at such a vulnerable moment. "Let go for Mommy."

And you do.

Allowing the pleasure to override your sense, moving your hips until your whole body goes still. It's the briefest moment but in it, there's nothing on your mind except Wanda.

The depth of your connection, the need that's unlike anything you've ever felt before, the safety that comes from surrendering yourself to her.

It's nothing but pure bliss.

And when your orgasm crashes in and your body shakes under the relentless waves, she's right there with you.

She pulls you against her, helping you up until your sweaty forehead rests in the crook of her neck. Her gentle voice soothes your cries of her name as it all becomes too much to bear alone.

"It's okay, I'm right here," she murmurs, hands running down your shaking back. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm all yours, y/n."

And while her words should make you feel possessive, territorial even, all they do is calm you. Remind you that you're exactly where you're meant to be.

In her arms.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses @milflovers4 @sevikasoneandonlywife @dextur

[eternlmoonshine]

morning light ☀︎︎ emily prentiss

summary: waking up next to emily is the safest, warmest feeling in the world. in the early morning light, with the world still quiet and slow, you allow yourself to simply exist in the moment, wrapped up in her presence. pairing: emily prentiss x reader warnings: pure teeth rotting fluff wc: 0.9k masterlist.

The world is soft when you wake up.

Not the world outside- not the city beyond Emily’s apartment walls, where car horns will soon blare, where people will rush to get to work, where the sun will rise higher and cast long shadows over everything it touches. That world is always moving, always demanding something. But here, in this room, in this bed, in the quiet cocoon of early morning, the world is soft.

And Emily is the softest thing in it.

Her breath is slow, steady, warming the air between you as she sleeps. Your bodies are tangled together, as they always are when you fall asleep next to her, like even in unconsciousness, neither of you wants to let go. One of her arms is draped over your waist, her fingers curled loosely around the fabric of your shirt. Her other hand is tucked under the pillow where your head rests, and you wonder if she can feel the way your hair brushes against her fingertips.

You don’t move, don’t shift, don’t even breathe too deeply. You don’t want to disturb this moment, don’t want to wake her. You want to stay here, suspended in this perfect stillness, where the warmth of her body keeps you anchored, where her presence is the only thing you need.

The room is dim, the first hints of dawn creeping in through the curtains. The light barely touches her face, just enough for you to see the way her dark lashes rest against her cheeks, the way her lips are slightly parted as she breathes. She looks peaceful like this, younger somehow, like all the burdens she carries have been set aside for the night. You know they’ll return when she wakes up- that the weight of the world will settle back onto her shoulders, that she’ll push herself too hard, that she’ll go out and fight battles no one else is strong enough to fight.

But not yet.

Right now, she’s just Emily. Just the woman you love, sleeping soundly beside you, safe and warm.

You let yourself drink her in. The curve of her jaw, the faint crease between her brows that never quite smooths out, even in sleep. The way her hair spills over the pillow, dark against the pale sheets. You could stay like this forever, just watching her, memorizing every detail.

You let your fingers brush over her arm where it rests against your waist, feather-light, barely a touch at all. Her skin is warm beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft. You trace gentle patterns against her forearm, circles and lines that don’t mean anything but still feel like love.

She stirs slightly, shifting closer, her grip on your shirt tightening for a moment before relaxing again. Her face nuzzles into the pillow, and a quiet sound escapes her lips- something between a sigh and a hum, content and sleepy.

A smile tugs at your lips. She’s always been a light sleeper, always on alert, but when she’s here with you, when she feels safe, she lets herself rest a little deeper.

You press the softest possible kiss to her forehead, barely more than a whisper of touch, just enough to let her know you’re here. She doesn’t wake, but her body responds- her arm tightening slightly around you, her legs shifting so they tangle even more with yours.

You think about all the mornings before this one. The ones where you had to wake up too soon, where alarms dragged you both from sleep and forced you back into the chaos of the world. The ones where Emily had to leave before the sun even rose, where kisses were hurried, where goodbyes were laced with exhaustion.

But not today.

Today, there are no alarms. No cases to rush off to, no flights to catch, no reason to leave this bed until you decide to. Today, you have time.

And you’re going to savor every second of it.

Your fingers move up to her hair, brushing a few strands away from her face. She shifts again, and this time, her eyes flutter open, just barely. They’re hazy with sleep, unfocused, the soft brown of them even warmer in the dim light.

A slow, sleepy smile spreads across her lips.

“Morning,” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep, the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Morning,” you whisper back.

She blinks lazily, like it takes effort to keep her eyes open, but she keeps looking at you, like she doesn’t want to look away. Like maybe she wants to memorize you the way you’ve been memorizing her.

“How long have you been awake?” she asks, her voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug. “Not long.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Liar.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and Emily smiles like she’s won something. Maybe she has.

She shifts closer- like she wasn’t already pressed against you, like there was any space left to close- and buries her face in the crook of your neck. Her breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Too early,” she mutters, her words muffled against your shoulder.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her, pulling her in even closer. “We don’t have to get up yet.”

“Good,” she says, already sinking back into sleep, already trusting you to hold her.

And you do. You hold her like she’s the most precious thing in the world- because she is. You hold her like you’ll never let go.

The world outside will wake up soon. The city will start moving, alarms will go off in other apartments, people will start their day. But for now, here in this quiet, warm space, there is only the steady rhythm of Emily’s breathing, the weight of her body against yours, the slow, steady beat of her heart.

And you don’t need anything else.

[alphacentaurinebula]

wot relationship status: it's complicated

I have been agonising over Siuan's death pretty much nonstop, but I have come to a sort of detente with it and I want to share my thoughts in response to some of the common fan responses I've seen.

Was Siuan's death simply for Moiraine's character advancement? No, I really don't think so. Her speech was a beautiful, powerful scene. I have seen fans who feel she was dehumanised and denied dignity and that it was a degrading death. I really don't feel thats what we saw on our screens.

Yes, Siuan was subjected to dehumanising treatment; yes, her killers tried to degrade her and remove her dignity. But she was not bowed; she was not broken. She did not beg for her life, or try to appease her captors, or do anything to suggest that they had succeeded in their attempts to remove her dignity. Instead, she fought back. She stood proud, despite their treatment (treatment that reflected much more on them than it did on her). Her strength and bravery made them into the villains even in their own eyes, and her into a hero and a martyr.

The thing I haven't seen talked about is that she almost won. Deposed, stilled, sentenced to death, she still managed to almost talk the Hall down. She managed to instil fear and doubt in Elaida, a woman who never doubted herself a day in her life. We didn't get to see the Sitters present and their stirrings of doubt (I imagine mainly for production reasons so that they can be cast next season) but we absolutely see it on Elaida's face. The only person unaffected is Alviarin, who can see power slipping through her fingers, who can see that any moment the Hall is going to change its mind, which is why she acts when she does.

I liked that Siuan talked about Moiraine - that was part of her being able to finally tell the truth after all these years, to claim Moiraine publicly as she'd never been allowed to do. Anyone who's spent time being forced to hide a queer relationship will recognise the joy and relief she felt in that moment, which I could certainly see on her face. And I don't think the fact that she spoke of Moiraine, the fact that Moiraine gained a desperate determination from her death, means that her death was simply to serve Moiraine's story. I think to only see Moiraine in her death robs Siuan of the dignity and heroism she displayed, and of the triumph of her character.

But that's my in story world response. Do I think they should have done it? Fuck, no. The writers live in the real world; this show is being watched in the real world. I don't think all queer stories should have to be happy - they shouldn't be limited by previous failures in representation. I don't really feel this is a bury your gays moment, not with so much other queer rep on the show. But we all need happy queer stories. Especially right now, in this moment of dire attack on queer and trans rights. Goodness knows I watched the episode at a terrible time in the UK - literally the day before, a horrific court ruling attacking trans rights was announced, the latest in a series of attacks on trans lives in this country. I needed my happy queer WoT world, and my happy queer WoT fandom.

And whilst there was nothing racial about her death within the world of the show, once again we are living in THIS world, and in this world, it feels problematic at best. (though I stand by my point above that Siuan's role was NOT just to further her white girlfriend's story)

I've seen multiple responses, including from the showrunner, saying that Siuan's plot in the books after the coup was a step down for the character. And whilst sure, I can agree that many elements of her plot are shit - they could simply have changed them. NO ONE needed Gareth Byrne, fuck that entire situation, but the writers could simply have changed that. She could have been in Salidar briefly and then gone off to rescue a doorwayed Moiraine. The writers are the ones making the decisions. They could have made different decisions.

I do think that her death will make Egwene's time in the Tower even more meaningful and triumphant; I do think it will make the Salidar storyline feel more poignant; I do think it will haunt Elaida for the rest of her reign; I do think Siuan as a martyr will add to the narrative tapestry of the rest of the show; I do think they're going to kill Moiraine permanently not doorway her and that this makes more sense with Siuan already dead. I just don't feel any of that is enough reason to lose her from the show.

I also understand the production considerations. I am professionally familiar with tv production - I know how crucial cast availability is, especially with a production this size and with the budgets involved. If it was me, I would simply have had Elaida send her off somewhere to be imprisoned. They could have kept her off screen until she was available/could become relevant to the plot.

Does this mean I don't want to see the "end game" that the writers have planned for Siuan and Moiraine? I ABSOLUTELY want to see it. I want them to make this better. I want my fishwives to have as close to a happy ending as they can get. Life is a dream from which we all must wake, and I want them to have time together in that waking, and for us to see them get it right, to see them happy as they have absolutely earned. Whether the show will manage to get that ending right? I have no idea. But I really want them to. I really want to see it.

So basically - I'm still angry, sad, and very very hurt. But I also don't want this to ruin my love of this show. Sometimes I feel we are the harshest to those who actually try. The show is flawed, but it does have a large and diverse cast, people of colour in many key roles, queer people of all varieties, a mix of talent in front of and behind the camera. It might fail sometimes but at least it tries.

I want the show to continue. I want to see my other favourite characters live their stories. I want to see Egwene come into her own, I want to see Nynaeve be the badass she is, I want to watch Elayne figure out how to do things no one had done in 3000 years, I want to see where they are going with Show Min, I want more of perrin, I want Mat to sleep with a dude, pretty please.

I think I'm most angry that this has stripped a lot of the joy of fandom from me, and caused so much pain to so many people. I wanted to be shouting about WoT from the rooftops at the moment - I wanted to be campaigning for renewal. But whilst it has robbed me of that fervour, I still want to see the show survive and thrive. I do want it to be renewed. And I do want my Siuriane end game.

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | CH.3

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: hurt and lots of yearning, mentions of alcohol and panic attack, honestly i think thats it! anything else lmk w.c: 13.2k synopsis: it has been four years since you left your old life and started building a new one. you have settled, found new friends, just about to graduate university. things are looking up. but when your best friend invites you to her sisters wedding, your new life if about to be flipped upside down. a/n: hi! it has been a loooong time but chapter 3 is here <33 a massive thank you for all your patience, i know you guys have probably forgot all about this but since i have written this part and having posted in like 3 months, it's only right i give you guys smthn! it's also my birthday so take this as a present. this chapter has no smut since it's a story arc but there are looots of emotion and plot in here so i hope you all enjoy it the same <3

chapter 2 | masterlist | chapter 4

Four years have passed since you left. Four years without a word to your family beyond a carefully chosen Christmas card, one without a return address or landmark, just enough to let them know you are alive but not enough to invite a response. Sometimes you stare at the cards before you send them, turning them over in your hands, wondering if it would make a difference if you added something more - just a sentence, a small glimpse into your life now. But you never do. You’re not sure they’d want to hear it. Or maybe you’re just afraid they wouldn’t.

Do they hate you for what you did? Would they slam the door in your face for leaving so abruptly? It’s a constant fear for you to imagine them cold and bitter because of your reckless decision.

You miss them in ways that are difficult to put into words, in the quiet moments that catch you off guard - the smell of your mother’s cooking that no restaurant has ever quite been able to replicate, the sound of your father’s laughter when he’s trying not to, the way your childhood bedroom always had a slight chill no matter the season. You missed every part of it, of your old life. 

Sometimes you allow yourself to imagine going back, just for a visit, just to see them again. For your mum’s birthday, maybe, just to see how they’ve aged if at all, changed in any way. But the thought of it makes your chest tighten. You aren’t the person they remember. They knew the girl who ran, not the woman who’s learned how to stand still on her own.

College changed you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. And you like to think it was for the better.

Eunseo had a lot to do with that. She was the first person to make you feel like you belonged in Avanti, sweeping into your life on the first day you moved in like a summer storm, full of light and noise, already knowing where everything was, who to avoid, which cafés made the best coffee. She was god sent. 

You were a mess then, a crying, dismantled version of yourself, and she took you in without hesitation. At first, you thought she pitied you. Maybe she did. But as time went on, it became clear - Eunseo was simply the kind of person who loved with her whole heart, who saw someone in need and decided to stay.

You wouldn’t have made it without her.

Even after she graduated last year, she stayed close, finding a job nearby to remain in the city she loved. You see her often, and every time, you are more than grateful. Grateful for the nights she held you together when you thought you were falling apart after one too many pity parties, for the mornings she dragged you out of bed when all you wanted was to disappear into the blankets. She managed to turn the dark cloud that hovered over you into one with a rainbow, helping you appreciate that there is still some light even in bad weather.

Your college years have been full in the way you hoped they would be - studying late into the night, stumbling into parties you swore you wouldn’t go to, making the kind of questionable choices that are excused by your youth and recklessness. 

But one thing you couldn’t do was fall in love.

You started having flings in your second year. Just casual fuck arounds - one-night stands, situationships that never turned into anything real. It was just to get the itch out of your system. A girl has needs and even your broken spirit needed a good fucking every so often - even if it is with questionable men that have so many red flags that you could stitch them together and lure in a bull to the pen. 

Eunseo never questioned it either. “I support women’s rights,” she’d say, raising her glass with a smirk, “but more importantly, I support women’s wrongs.”

She never asked why you never settled down despite clearly being someone who craves love more than lust, she never pried, and you’re thankful for that. She was good like that.

However, even if she didn’t pry, your brain did a good job of keeping your reasoning for abandoning love at the forefront of your mind.

Jaeyun’s name hasn’t passed your lips in 1,460 days. A choice you made the moment you stepped off the bus in Pyeongchang. Yet, despite your best efforts, he never really left you. His name lived in the spaces between your thoughts, in the way every touch from another felt hollow, in the way no words ever settled in your chest the way his did. You learned to ignore it. To push it down. But it never disappeared.

Your heart still beats to the sound of his soul.

Still, you’ve built something for yourself here. You’re in your final year of University and oh so content with at least this aspect of your life. Happy, even. You found your way into film by accident, stumbling into a passion you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t imagine letting go of. An internship at Lift Media loomed on the horizon, the kind of opportunity you wouldn’t have dared to dream of before. For once, things felt like they were falling into place.

And yet, as much as your heart is filling up with other loves, you can’t shake the puppy-eyed boy out. He’s always going to take up space within your chest, always there, always loved by you.

You still thought about him every day. Wondered if he was happy. If he was enjoying Busan. If he had moved on. That last thought is the one you try to avoid, the one that leaves an ache in your chest when it creeps in late at night. You want him to be happy. Of course, you do. But selfishly, you don’t want to know if that happiness is because of someone else.

Someone who isn’t you.

“Helloooo? Y/N? Are you even listening?”

Eunseo waves a hand in front of your face, pulling you back to the present. You blink, realising you’ve been staring out of the café window, watching the way the autumn leaves gather in piles along the pavement, so free but connected. You turn back to her, sheepish.

“Of course,” you say, not very convincingly. “You were saying how much you love me and that we should get married.”

Eunseo scoffs, but her eyes are full of amusement. “Weirdly, you’re close.”

Your brow furrows as you set down your coffee. “Wait, really?” You love Eunseo, you do, but you’re not sure marrying her is on your bucket list. Sharing a bed with her for the rest of your life as she kicks purple bruises onto your skin doesn’t sound so appealing.  

“Well, not us.” She gestures vaguely, fingers splaying in the air like she’s conjuring an image. “Marriage is involved, though.”

Your stomach drops. “Please don’t tell me you’re marrying Serim after, like, three dates.”

Park Serim; strong, devoted, and the only man who has been insane enough to put up with all of Eunseo’s schemes. She likes to vet her men before committing and it is a gruelling process - another reason you don’t want to tie the knot with her. But Serim is up for the challenge it seems, not phased by the silent treatment, her list of pros and cons that she literally sent to him so he could analyse and add on anything he thought she missed…he’s a perfect match for her.

She barks out a laugh, smacking the table. A few heads turn at her sudden outburst, but she doesn’t care. “I like him, but I’m not that insane. He hasn’t even passed the pussy eating test yet,” she smirks, “I’m testing that out next week.” Her pussy eating test, aka, he can make her cum at least two times from his tongue alone. 

You shake your head as you pick up your coffee, taking a long contemplative sip. “So full of romance and wonder, Eunseo.” Your tone is light and carefree as she grunts, knowing you’ll never understand her process of finding a husband.

“Whatever, Y/N,” she leans forward, eyes burning with intent. “It’s my sister getting married.”

You nod, placing your coffee down on the table, remembering her mentioning it in passing. Eunseo doesn’t speak much about her family. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she knows that it’s a touchy subject for you. You deflect at the mention of family or anything to do with your past, to be honest, so she doesn’t spout too much about the ins and outs of her own.

“She’s a control freak,” Eunseo continues. “Wants everything planned down to the last detail. And someone dropped out, which means there’s a spare seat at the wedding. And guess what? You’re free that weekend.”

You hesitate. You’ve never met her family. Despite her keeping her conversations about family to a minimum, she has invited you to gatherings before out of politeness, but you always declined, not wanting to impose. Or maybe, deep down, you weren’t ready to be surrounded by something that felt too much like home.

Eunseo reads your hesitation immediately, knowing you like her favourite recipe. “Come on, Y/N. Just this once. I checked your schedule and you have nothing on. I even have a dress for you. And you owe me one.”

Your eyes narrow. “For what?”

“Well, not yet,” she admits, grinning. “But I heard the best man is single, older than you and has these ridiculously big eyes that could melt stone. I’m setting you up with him.” Her face is smug and bright as she divulges her plan to you.

“So let me get this straight,” you quirk a brow, “I owe you for something that hasn’t even happened yet?”

“Details, details.” She waves a hand. “Please, Y/N. I want you to meet my family. Think of them as yours, yeah?”

That tugs at your heart a little. Your best friend offering you a place in her family is a privilege you don’t feel worthy of.

“Eunseo-” You’re about to decline, the words on the very tip of your tongue, but she’s already pouting, eyes big and imploring. She knows how to get you. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost before you’ve even begun. “Fine. I’ll come.”

The sun shifts, its light spilling through the window, warming your skin.

“Great!” Eunseo claps, practically bouncing in her seat. “We leave tomorrow.”

Your head snaps up. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep.” She stands, grabbing her bag. “We need to be there early for fittings and all that wedding stuff.”

You groan. “I thought the wedding wasn’t until Saturday?”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d drag you along early. Or, you know, you could drive yourself.” Her grin is wicked and knowing, teasing you.

You deadpan as you stand up to meet her eye level. “Fuck you. You know I can’t drive.”

She laughs, taking your hand. “And I still don’t understand how you’re 23 and can’t even handle a go-kart.”

You roll your eyes but smile. Maybe this will be good for you. Maybe, for once, you can let love surround you without thinking about…

Him.

___________

You fold the last of your clothes with carelessness, stuffing them into your suitcase as if cramming fabric into the confined space might also quiet the noise in your head. It’s been years since you last packed for anything, and as you stand in your small flat, staring down at the open case, it occurs to you how little you’ve really needed to.

Pyeongchang became your sanctuary once you left. The mountains, the crisp air, the rhythm of city life on the outskirts of something wild and untamed. It gave you a semblance of purpose or at least the illusion of one. Between coursework, bakery shifts, and your occasional attempts at being social, you never felt the urge to leave nor have you had the time. Every corner of this place holds something new, something untouched by your past. 

And yet, here you are, packing. Again.

Your fingers brush over the worn handle of your suitcase, the same one you clutched so tightly four years ago when you boarded that bus and never looked back. It’s one of the few relics you’ve kept from that life, the only piece of baggage - literal or otherwise - that made the journey with you. Even now, just the sight of it stirs something uneasy in your stomach. The ghost of who you were then lingers in its scuffed corners and fading stitching, a silent witness to your agony.

Something about packing and the memories of your teenage self resurfacing makes you queasy and regretful that you accepted the invitation from Eunseo.

A wedding. Love. Commitment. Things that once felt sonin reach, but now only seem distant and abstract. Love, as you once knew it, is buried within the past, and the thought of surrounding yourself with it, watching people promise forever, eels like an exercise in masochism.

You experienced a love so potent with Jaeyun that it became part of your DNA, something that rooted itself in your bones and refused to let go, like a ghost haunting the walls of their old house as it tries to find its purpose before crossing over to death. It was unfiltered, all-consuming. It was real. Now, you see couples around you, holding hands in coffee shops, sharing quiet laughter in the bakery queue, and it all feels…less. Their love is not your love, not close. It never will be. You tell yourself it’s unfair to think this way, that you’re projecting a lost love onto theirs, planning the failure of each couple in your head to make you feel better about your own dead relationship, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from creeping in.

The ‘what ifs’ come next, as they always do. What if you had stayed? What if you had gone with him? Would you have a ring on your finger? A life mapped out together? Would you be standing in Eunseo’s sister’s place, preparing for your own wedding instead of just attending one? It’s a dangerous path to wander down, and you force yourself to step away before you drown in it.

You check the clock. 10:23am. That gives you roughly seven minutes until Eunseo arrives.

Your eyes drift across the room, checking for any loose ends before landing on the navy hoodie draped over the back of your chair. CERRITOS, bold and white, emblazoned across the chest. You don’t even remember putting it there - it usually stays tucked away, hidden from sight. Out of sight, out of mind. But of course, it never really is.

This was Jaeyun’s. His favourite. The one he pulled over your head when you were cold, the one he gave you after long nights tangled in his sheets, the one that smelled of him long after he stopped holding you. Eventually, it became yours in a quiet, unspoken exchange. He never asked for it back, only ever taking it to refresh his scent on the fabric before returning it to you, as if making sure his presence lingered even when he wasn’t there. He liked knowing you smelled like him - he told you once, with a grin and a kiss to your shoulder, that it made him feel like a wolf marking his mate.

Now, the fabric has lost its scent, but not its hold over you. You still wear it on the nights you miss him most, wrapping yourself in memories you can’t seem to shed. You tell yourself it’s just a hoodie. Just an object. But it’s not, and it never has been.

Your hands tighten around the fabric, pressing it to your chest for just a moment before you throw it into the suitcase. If this trip is going to be difficult - and you already know it will be - you at least deserve some small comfort.

Then, before your mind can spiral further, a car horn blares outside, the sound lingering just a second too long.

Eunseo.

You snap the suitcase shut, zipping it up with a finality that feels like sealing away something far heavier than clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the handle and step towards the door, forcing your feet to move forward. Whatever awaits you at this wedding, you’ll face it head-on.

Or at least, you’ll try.

_____

The drive to Eunseo’s parents’ house is smooth, the kind of journey that allows your mind to wander without urgency. The road bends gently, framed by towering trees that murmur in the summer breeze, their rustling leaves forming a soundscape of whispers - soft and full of life. You roll down the window, resting your head on your arm, letting the wind tangle through your messy hair. The air is thick with the scent of sun-warmed earth and pine, soothing in a way that makes your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

Eunseo is quiet when she drives, her usual stream of chatter absent. It’s one of the rare times she lets silence settle between you without filling it. You appreciate that about her - the way she understands when to pull you into her world of relentless energy and when to let you sit in your own thoughts. She knows you love a quiet drive, taking the time to just be. She hums under her breath to the Noah Kahan album she selected as she steers with one hand, the other drumming lightly against the wheel.

The further you go, the more the city thins out. Towering buildings are replaced with green fields, the occasional farmhouse dotting the landscape. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about deadlines, unread messages, the gnawing ache of old memories. The sun feels warmer here, sinking golden fingers into your skin. You wonder if it’s always like this or if your nerves are just making you hyper-aware of everything.

By the time Eunseo pulls up to her family home, your breath catches.

House doesn’t feel like the right word. Estate, maybe. Mansion. Something too grand for you to comprehend. The building is decorated in cool ash-coloured stone, its towering windows reflecting the afternoon light. Ivy creeps up the sides in a random sprawl, woven with clusters of pink flowers that look bright and inviting. The driveway is lined with cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering like confetti as Eunseo’s car disturbs the stillness.

The sheer scale of it is mesmerising. You knew Eunseo came from money - she’s joked about it often enough - but you didn’t realise she was this kind of rich. The kind that makes your worn-down suitcase - and you - feel even smaller against the backdrop of something so opulent.

Perhaps you should have known you were walking into boujee territory when you were passing by houses with more than one car in the driveway. 

She grins at your expression, tapping the steering wheel. “We’re here!” Her voice is alight with excitement, eyes gleaming. You nod, making a silent promise to mirror her enthusiasm, even if a part of you still feels like you don’t belong here, or want to be here; you can’t ruin her time by being a debbie-downer 

You step out, stretching your legs that grew stiff from the drive. The stairs leading up to the entrance are wide, a pristine white door waiting at the top like something out of a film. There’s a moment - just a passing flicker - where the sight of it triggers a memory. Not of this place, but of a conversation.

Those rich bitch houses are so ugly with their grand doors that look like you’re reaching heaven. I want as small a house as possible so I’m always close to you, no matter what room I’m in.

Jaeyun’s voice is so clear in your head it makes you pause mid-step. His bright smile and promise of a future you ripped away from him sit heavy on your heart. But you shake him off quickly, forcing your legs to move, dragging your suitcase up each step while holding your dress bag straight. Halfway up, you curse every rich person’s need to be extra and bigger to flaunt their money because your thighs are already burning.

The door swings open before you reach the top, revealing a broad-shouldered man with a beaming smile. “My baby!” Eunseo’s father’s voice booms, warm and full of unmistakable joy. He pulls her into a hug so tight you wonder if she can breathe.

You miss your father. It’s not a thought you allow yourself to dwell on often, but moments like this make it impossible to ignore. His comforting words, the piggyback rides, the way his oddly spiced cinnamon body wash would cling to his clothes - things you never realised you’d long for until they were no longer within reach.

“This must be Y/N! It only took four years to meet you,” Eunseo’s father laughs, deep and rich, before pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one he gave his daughter. There’s something about the way he embraces you that makes your throat tighten - a quiet kindness, an unspoken welcome. You return the hug with one arm, the other stretched outward to keep your dress from creasing.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be part of your daughter’s big day.” The words are easy, overly polite, but genuine. He steps back, his eyes crinkling with a warmth that makes you feel fuzzy inside. You understand where Eunseo gets her kindness from.

“You’re more than welcome here. Our home is yours.” He says it so definitely that you can’t help but feel for even a second that you belong here. “The party is in a few hours,” he tells you, gesturing towards the house. “The happy couple aren’t here, off running last-minute errands, but you’ll meet them tonight.” Then he turns, pointing up the grand staircase inside. “Eunseo will show you where you’re sleeping. If you need anything, me and the wife will be hovering around.”

She didn’t mention a party.

You barely have time to react before Eunseo grabs your wrist, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to love them,” she gushes, dragging you inside. “They’re super nice, especially her man, literally like someone out of a hot cowboy Elsie Silver book - minus the cowboy and more geeky.”

You smile at her description. It’s nice that her sister has found someone with so many green flags. You’re not really one to hang around with good men these days, your rendezvous is strictly for men who don’t expect anything more from you than a quick fuck.

Although, if they’re as good as your best friend makes them out to be, you’re in for one loved-up week…Not the greatest outcome considering you still can’t look at a heart themed anything without bursting into tears at what could have been for you.

Still, you push it down, letting her pull you along and up the mansion’s stairs, her voice spilling over with enthusiasm as she titters about the night ahead.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself exist without the weight of the past pressing down on you.

___

A few hours later, the hum of conversation and clinking flutes drifts up from the party below, a telltale sign that the engagement celebration is on full blast. Laughter rises but up here, in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, Eunseo is focused, curling a wispy strand of your hair with precision. The soft scent of heat and hairspray lingers between you.

You glance up at her, taking in how effortlessly beautiful she is. The way her bangs frame her face, how her naturally pouty lips curve into a smirk - she’s flawless in that unbothered way only she can be. You’re jealous.

“If you keep staring, I’ll literally take you on the bed,” she teases, flicking your forehead gently.

You laugh, shoving her shoulder in protest. “You wish.”

Puckering her lips dramatically, she leans in close as if she’s about to kiss you. You play along, tilting your chin up just enough to humour her. Life is easy with Eunseo, like floating down a calm river in a dingy, no effort, just the gentle push of the current guiding you forward. You used to be this way with Jaeyun.

Perhaps it’s the similarities between them that make you gravitate towards the girl so effortlessly. 

“Alright, go get changed. I need to see my masterpiece complete.” She steps back, admiring her handiwork before marching over to grab the dress. Without warning, she thrusts it against your chest, eyes gleaming. “You’re gonna look amazing. That babe of a best man is gonna fall at your feet. Now, go.” She shoos you toward the ensuite with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

As you take the dress from her, a thought creeps into your mind. You hesitate, gripping the fabric a little tighter before asking, “How many people are actually going to be at this party?”

Eunseo turns back to you with an innocent blink, lips pursed as if contemplating how to break something gently. “Oh, you know,” she hums, twisting a curl of her own hair between her fingers, “just a few people.”

You narrow your eyes. “Eunseo.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” She throws up her hands. “A lot of people. Like, a lot a lot. The bride and groom are crazy popular. And I mean, not just with family - we’re talking old classmates, colleagues, some of their industry friends, all of our cousins… It’s basically a mini wedding before the wedding.” She claps her hands together in excitement.

Your stomach tightens. “Eunseo, I thought this was just a small gathering. Like, a family thing.”

“Oops?” She grins, clearly unbothered by the panic creeping into your expression. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun, and a good 80% of these people are only here for the party tonight, not the entire time.” The reassurance is welcomed but lacks the impact you need. If there are a lot of people down there, you need to find the quietest corner and hope the night passes quickly. 

Parties are fine, you like them. It’s the ones where you can’t get wasted and fall over your own feet that are the issue.

“You’ll be the hottest one there, aside from me, obviously,” Eunseo smirks, eyes landing on the bag that contains the mystery dress. You let her pick it because you’re semi-hopeless at picking appropriate clothes for special events. Even in high school, if Yeji wasn’t picking your outfits for occasions, you were not going.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

You groan, pressing your fingers against your temples. “I swear you do this on purpose.”

“Of course I do.” She winks. “Now, get changed before I dress you myself.”

You sigh but comply, stepping inside and locking the door behind you. The mirror greets you, reflecting the version of yourself that Eunseo has carefully crafted tonight.

Never in your life have you looked this beautiful.

For a moment, you just stare, taking it all in. The soft curls, the expertly blended makeup, the way your features seem more refined yet still wholly your own. It’s strange. You feel like you’ve shed something - some old version of yourself left behind to make way for…this.

With careful fingers, you unzip the garment bag. The fabric spills out in a cascade of deep, sultry red. You gasp.

“Um, Eunseo?” you call out hesitantly, holding the dress up against your body. It’s stunning. Silky, form-fitting, allure dripping from the seams - but far too sexy for a family event. “This dress is…”

“Hot,” she finishes for you from the other side of the door. “Now shut up and put it on. My cousins will be wearing something way sluttier, so you’re fine.”

Her nonchalant tone does little to reassure you, but it’s either this or the more conservative dress meant for the actual wedding. So, with a deep breath, you slip it on. The material hugs you in all the right places, cinching at the waist and draping over your hips like liquid. It’s been months, more like years,  since you’ve worn anything this beautiful, since you’ve felt this beautiful.

Your fingers absentmindedly reach for your necklace, the familiar weight of the sun settling against your collarbone. The gold glows softly against the red fabric, a stark reminder of everything you’ve carried with you, even when you tried to leave it behind.

Honestly, you wanted to get rid of the necklace and replace it with something that had far less meaning than the burning orb and etched date attached to it. But you couldn’t. This wasn’t a massive blue diamond that you could through into the ocean, this was much more. This represented love.

When you open the door, Eunseo is waiting, now changed into a pastel blue dress that fits her like a glove. It’s modest in the arms and neckline, but a daring slit runs high up her thigh. Your jaw nearly drops at the sight of her.

She eyes you up and down with an approving nod. “Look at you! A literal goddess.” She takes your hands, giving them a little squeeze. “You ready to upstage my sister at her own engagement party?”

Your stomach flips. “Eunseo…you didn’t pick these outfits just to stand out, did you?”

She scoffs, feigning innocence. “Of course not! We’re just naturally hotter than everyone here - including her.” She grins mischievously before grabbing a shoebox from the bed. Inside is a pair of gold heels - the exact ones you had admired earlier while she was unpacking. She holds them out to you.

“Take these. You can kick them off whenever, but for the grand entrance, you need to be complete.” She waves a hand over you like an artist admiring their finished painting.

You shake your head with a chuckle, but there’s warmth spreading in your chest. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself feel good about being seen.

Putting on the gold heels, you instantly gain four inches, rising to Eunseo’s eye level. You wobble slightly, adjusting to the unfamiliar height, but she steadies you with a firm grip on your arm.

“Ready to rock this bitch?” she asks, flashing you a devilish grin.

You take a deep breath, smoothing down the silky fabric of your dress before giving a resolute nod. Without hesitation, she latches onto your arm and drags you toward the staircase.

The moment you descend, you feel it. A shift in the air. Eyes - far too many of them - turning toward you with quiet intrigue. Conversations falter for the briefest moment, and though it lasts no more than a heartbeat, it’s enough to make your skin prickle. You feel like Hilary Duff when she cascades down the stairs at the Halloween Dance - beautiful and awe-stopping 

Some gazes are appreciative, admiring even, but others linger in a way that makes your stomach turn. The ones that belong to men at least twice your age. The way they lick their lips makes you recoil. You resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest and focus on the buzz surrounding you instead.

God, you could use some Tequila Rose right about now.

It’s a scene straight out of a film - elegant and absurdly extravagant. Waiters weave effortlessly through the room, trays balanced with hors d’oeuvres so delicate they look like they belong in an art exhibit rather than in someone’s mouth. Champagne flutes glimmer under the glow of a massive chandelier, its crystals refracting light like a sky full of stars. Every surface is polished to perfection, from the marble floors beneath your heels to the sleek, gold-trimmed furniture arranged in intimate clusters throughout the space.

You try not to think about how much this all costs. The thought alone makes your bank account whimper in greed...or is it envy? 

“This is insane,” you murmur under your breath, leaning slightly toward Eunseo.

She hums in agreement, though with far less concern . “Yeah, my parents don’t half-arse anything. Wait till you see the wedding.”

You scan the room, taking in the sea of impeccably dressed guests. Men in tailored suits and women draped in silks, their jewellery glinting as they gesture animatedly in conversation. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses creates a steady, lively backdrop.

Your eyes land on an older couple near the grand piano, deep in discussion. The woman wears a string of pearls that likely cost more than your entire tuition, and for a brief moment, you wonder if there’s anyone here generous - or drunk - enough to pay off your student loans.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eunseo says, nudging you playfully. She had a knack for reading your mind and as soon as she sees your eyes bulge out with dollar signs, she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You scoff. “What? One of these rich dudes could be my knight in shining Prada.”

Eunseo barks out a laugh before snatching two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, pressing one into your hand. “If you pull that off, I’ll personally bow at your feet and kindly ask you to get your new money bank to pay off my credit cards.”

Perhaps that’s one reason why you never knew just how wealthy Eunseo is. She never got handouts, everything was in her name which meant everything she bought, everything she owned, was entirely through her own hard work. She could easily ask her father for money -  you can see that quite evidently now as you stand in the grand living room - but she never does.

Grinning, you clink your glass against hers before taking a tentative sip. The bubbles tickle your tongue. Definitely not the cheap kind you’re used to. You don’t know if you can go back to Tesco’s extra dry prosecco.

“Hey, Eunseo?” Your voice is steady, curious. “I just realised…I don’t know Yeoreum’s fiancé’s name.”

She pauses mid-sip of her champagne, then bursts out laughing, smacking your arm lightly. How could she forget to tell you? “Oh, that’s right! It’s Jaeyun.”

Your heart stutters. There are a lot of Jaeyuns in Korea. Jaeyun from TO1 could walk through that door for all you know. The name alone isn’t enough to set you off balance, not yet.

“Jake is what he goes by, though,” she adds, completely unaware that she has just set off a grenade inside you.

Jake.

Your stomach drops, so fast and so violently you feel like you might actually be sick. There might be a hundred Jaeyuns in this country, but how many also go by Jake? The odds feel astronomically slim, but you tell yourself, desperately, that maybe - fucking hopefully - it’s just a really strange coincidence. Maybe it’s some other Jake. Some other Jaeyun.

But then, the voices in the archway grow louder, and you know you’re out of time.

Yeoreum enters first, radiant and poised, her beauty effortlessly eclipsing every photograph Eunseo had shown you. And then behind her.. he steps in. Jaeyun.

Your Jaeyun.

The air leaves your lungs. Static floods your ears, drowning out the noise of distant conversation and glee. He’s greeting guests, shaking hands, smiling that easy, beautiful smile and all you can do is stand there as panic claws up your throat, like a cat clinging on to a curtain for dear life. Each step he takes towards you feels like a countdown to something catastrophic.

If your body would listen to you, you would be running, bolting out of the nearest exit, disappearing before he could see you. But you can’t move. You can’t breathe. You can only watch, helpless, as he draws closer.

He looks different, yet exactly the same somehow. Sharper, his boyish softness long gone. His face has hardened in the way time does to people, more defined now, but those eyes, fuck, they haven’t changed at all. He’s wearing a black suit, tailored to perfection, he’s wearing no shirt under his low-cut v-neck blazer, exposing tanned skin and the chain resting against his collarbone - the same chain you’ve had dangling in your face as he made love to you. His hair is slicked back, though a few strands have rebelliously fallen forward, framing his face in the way they haven’t before

He looks expensive. He looks effortless.

He looks like home.

Eunseo says something to you, her voice getting lost to the sound of your thumping heart. Because now, Jaeyun’s gaze lands on you, and in an instant, everything shifts.

His body stills. His expression freezes, and just for a second a flicker of recognition, disbelief, and unreadable awe falls over his features. He turns toward you instinctively, as if the force pulling you two together still exists, still lingers after all this time. And that realisation terrifies you.

“Eunseo!” Yeoreum’s voice breaks through the tension, bright and oblivious to the cloud of thick anguish as she rushes forward, throwing her arms around her sister. “Oh my god, I missed you!”

Eunseo grins, squeezing her back. “Missed you too, brat.”

“Jakey, come here,” Yeoreum calls, beckoning Jaeyun closer. He moves without breaking eye contact with you, his steps measured, cautious, like he’s approaching something fragile. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real, you can tell it in the way his eyes are screaming in confusion and adoration, like you’re some sick pre-wedding prank.

“You must be Y/N,” Yeoreum says, beaming at you. “Eunseo talks about you all the time!”

She is stunning. Warm and kind in a way that feels effortless, her presence somehow golden, just like her sister. She is perfect. 

Perfect for him.

The realisation claws at your insides, and you feel like you might actually fall apart at any moment.

Still, you plaster on a smile, pushing every emotion deep, deep down. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, voice just barely holding steady. You hug her lightly, stealing one last glance at Jaeyun while she can’t see you. His expression is unreadable, his lips parted slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His eyes…they are still the same. Still looking at you like you are everything.

You force yourself to turn back to Yeoreum, ignoring the burning in your throat. “Congratulations,” you say quickly, like ripping off a plaster, your skin tearing as the word leaves your lips. How can you be happy when she’s the one holding the love of your life’s heart in their hands.

“Aw, thank you!” she smiles so appreciatively, and you want to scream.

It’s too much. All of it. The weight of the past, the suffocating closeness of him, the way your body still reacts to him like no time has passed at all. It’s too much.

“Excuse me,” you blurt, already stepping back. “I’m just going to the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t care if anyone calls after you. You just turn and leave, weaving through the crowd, heart pounding in your ears. Each breath feels too shallow, your chest tightening as you break into a near-run up the stairs.

The moment you reach the guest room, you push the door open and slip inside, shutting it quickly behind you. And then finally, you allow yourself to exhale. A shuddering, ragged breath as you clutch your chest, fingers trembling.

How? How out of every man in this world, out of every best friend’s sister’s fiancé, did it have to be him?

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes squeezed shut as you replay the last five minutes over and over again, like a nightmare on a continuous loop. The sound of his voice, the way he looked at you, the way your body responded before your mind could catch up.

The past was supposed to stay buried. But now, it’s here. It’s him. And there is nowhere left to run.

“Y/N?”

The Australian accent cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You turn slowly because moving too fast might shatter you, seeing him too quickly might make your bones dissolve and heart shatter all over again. And then there he is. 

Jaeyun. The boy you once knew, now a man, standing mere inches away. His eyes lock onto yours, widening in disbelief, and before you can react, his hands are on your face, fingers trembling as they cradle your cheeks, his palms pulsing with fear and excitement, joy and apprehension. His body presses against yours, so close you can feel the warmth of him, the steady, aching pulse of a heart that once beat only for you.

“Baby,” he breathes, the word breaking apart in the space between you. His eyes scan your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory, to prove to himself that you’re not a cruel hallucination. “Where did you go?”

The anguish in his voice nearly undoes you. It’s raw, unguarded, desperate. That way this is his first question, no anger or disdain towards you in the slightest - even if you did deserve it. No. It’s pure love still laced in every syllable. Somehow, you wonder if it would be easier if he just blew up, told you to fuck off and never come back because right now, the way he’s drinking you in like you’re his entire world still, makes everything much harder.

Instinctively, your hands fly up, gripping his wrists as you squeeze your eyes shut. The weight of the years crashes over you, the memories pressing into every crevice of your being. You have missed his touch. Although his hands are a little rougher, they still hold the gentle fondness they used to.

“Princess,” he whispers out the pet name so easily, like not a moment has passed. His forehead presses against yours, his breath unsteady as he finds words to plead. “Please talk to me.”

Jaeyun’s hands drift from your face, tracing down your shoulders, his touch hesitant, reverent yet firm like he’s afraid you might disappear again. His eyes flicker over your features, drinking in the changes, the subtle marks of time. You are older, wiser, perhaps a little more guarded, but you are still you. Still the girl he once loved. The girl he still-

His voice cracks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, fighting to steady your breath. And then, finally, you speak, holding in a gigantic sob. “You’re...engaged.”

Probably not the first thing he was expecting you to say after four years.

The words land between you like a grenade, blowing up the fairytale and bringing him back to reality. His hands drop from your skin, leaving behind a coldness that seeps into your bones. He stares at you, mouth parted slightly, struggling to process the weight of your statement. 

He can’t deny it or pretend it’s not happening. He is marrying someone. Someone who isn’t you. The last time he looked into your eyes, felt you under his fingertips, he had promised you were the girl he would get on one knee for - he even gave you a ring as a placeholder for when the day would come. 

“She seems nice,” you add, voice barely above a whisper as you try and act put together.

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a storm of anguish brewing beneath the surface. “Don’t act like this doesn’t hurt you too. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one breaking right now.”

Your breath catches. He’s so raw with his feelings and you can still read every single one of them. He’s upset, delirious, confused, and still stricken with love. That’s why it hurts to watch you pretend that this isn’t affecting you too. In fact, this should be affecting you more yet he’s the one with trembling hands and a bruised heart.

Jaeyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before gesturing helplessly toward you. “I looked for you everywhere,” he says, his voice raw. “I spent months trying to find you.”

You knew that already. Of course, you did. Deep down you would have guessed that his threat to search over the country for you was more than a false promise. But for months? You thought maybe a few weeks, a couple of sleepless nights before he would have left for Busan and moved on. But months?

His voice wavers. “What did I do?”

Your heart clenches. “Nothing.” It’s the first question you truly answer and it only leads to more queries in his fragile heart.

Jaeyun shakes his head as he refuses to accept the answer. “You don’t just abandon people you love, Y/N. Not like that. Not us.” He hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “There had to be something I did to make you fall out of-”

“Jake!”

The voice cuts through the moment like a knife though distant in the hallway. You flinch, your head bowing instinctively as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Jaeyun turns slightly, his body still half-angled toward you as if reluctant to pull away completely. His eyes beg you for something - an answer, an excuse, anything. But you have nothing left to give him.

“Y/N, please,” Jaeyun wants to hold you, kiss you, to have you wrapped up in his embrace the way you should be. He needs to understand what happened but he can’t. Not right now. Not at his fucking engagement party. “Don’t leave me again, baby, please.” His voice is quiet, despair etched within his tone as he cuts you off. He cannot lose you again, not without some semblance of an answer.

His gaze flickers downward, landing on the delicate gold chain around your neck. His chain. The one he gave you years ago, the one you never stopped wearing. He inhales sharply, his eyes tracing the familiar shape of the pendant. There is still some hope within him, the gleam of the necklace in the light mirroring his faith that you still love him somehow. When he looks back up at you, he looks undone but resolute.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs as though it’s a secret just for you, scared that the girl he’s promised his name to downstairs might overhear. “Just like always.”

“Jake, your dad’s about to give a speech-”

Heeseung’s voice carries through the room but Jaeyun doesn’t move. Neither do you. 

Stepping inside, Heeseung’s footsteps falter as his eyes land on you. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker. For years, Heeseung tried to let go of his anger, convinced himself that seeing Jaeyun happy with Yeoreum was enough to forgive the past. But now, the resentment simmers beneath his skin, clawing its way back up as he stares at you. The audacity of you.

“Y/N?” His tone is cutthroat, his disbelief barely contained. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You don’t look at him. You don’t dare.

“You should go,” you murmur, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Jaeyun pleads, eyes blown out with panic. “Don’t walk away again…”

You shut your eyes. You can’t do this. Not now. Not here.

Brushing past him and Heeseung, you make your way to the door, ignoring the way Jaeyun’s fingers graze your wrist in a desperate attempt to hold onto you. You don’t stop. You don’t look back.

The moment you step out into the hallway, the world feels unbearably loud. His family is here. His friends. People from a past you wanted to erase. Your vision blurs, the weight of it all pressing down on you as you rush down the stairs, each step echoing in your ears.

You aren’t paying attention when you collide with someone at the base of the staircase, the impact jolting you back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, bowing quickly, hands trembling at your sides.

“Y/N?”

This time, it’s Mr. Sim’s voice that grabs your attention. It quivers with astonishment, his eyes widening as they land on you. “What are you doing here?” He steps closer, his head tilting slightly to level with yours as if trying to confirm that you are, in fact, real, much like Jaeyun had just done. “What-” His voice falters, words escaping him as he looks at the girl he once believed would marry his son.

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to bow respectfully. “Mr. Sim, it’s nice to see you again.” You speak evenly, though you avoid his eyes. “I’m sure you’re very proud of Jaeyun.”

“Sweetheart, we thought something awful had happened to you.” The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, forcing you to meet his gaze. Heartache carves deep lines into his features, the weight of unspoken words pressing between you. “Your mum and dad haven’t stopped worrying about you.”

Those words almost cause you to break, hearing about the pain you’ve put your parents through, but luckily a gentle hand touches your shoulder, grounding you. Eunseo - your saving grace.

“Girl, there you are! You took one long bathroom break.” She laughs, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside you. She bows politely to Mr. Sim. “Ready for your speech, Sir?”

Mr. Sim studies you a moment longer before returning Eunseo’s bow. “I’ve been preparing this speech for years,” he says with a tight-lipped smile, “only needed a few minor tweaks.”

His eyes flicker over you one last time before he heads down the stairs. You know. You know exactly what he meant - he had once imagined giving this speech at your engagement party, the one that everyone who knew you and Jaeyun had already planned - he didn’t think someone else would be in your place. 

Eunseo’s grip tightens on your hand, guiding you toward the dining hall, where the room is fully alive, unaware of the inner turmoil you’re facing. Your chest tightens as Jaeyun strolls in behind Heeseung, hands casually tucked in his pockets - until he sees her. His future wife - Yeoreum. A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls her into his side. The action is effortless, instinctive.

And it shatters you.

It should be you.

You should be marrying him, taking his second name, waking up to him every morning for the rest of your life. Your body quakes with a need to be close to him, that quick taste of his touch on your skin clearly not enough to curb your appetite for his love.

A fork clinks against a wine glass, drawing everyone’s attention. Mr. Sim clears his throat, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’ll keep this short, considering I’m sure you’re all sick of us talking - especially with a free bar in the room.” Laughter erupts, and you watch as Yeoreum beams up at Jaeyun.

It’s unbearable.

“My son,” Mr. Sim continues, “has always been someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, who gives one hundred percent of himself to the person he loves.” His eyes find yours, and you stop breathing. “Jaeyun deserves someone who loves him unconditionally, without prejudice, without pride, and always with his best interest in mind. And I believe he’s found that.”

The walls close in. Your vision blurs, and suddenly, the air is too thick, the weight of the past and present crushing you all at once.

You bolt.

Bursting through the entrance of the house, you gasp for air, chest rising and falling in erratic movements. Your fingers claw at your collarbone as if that alone will release the unbearable pressure, but nothing helps. The panic sets in quickly and you find yourself falling onto the steps, the cold stone under you doing little to wake you from this nightmare.

This cannot be happening. It can’t be. You’re sick, you’re hurt…and it’s all your fucking fault.

A hand touches your shoulder, warm and steady. Words reach your ears, muffled by the chaos in your head. You don’t understand them at first, but then the voice becomes clearer.

“Breathe for me, Y/N. He-He-Hoo, or whatever.”

You blink, dazed, as you look up to find Heeseung crouched in front of you. His Bambi-like eyes soften as he rubs soothing circles into your arms. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just keep breathing.” The world slowly steadies and your vision clears enough to focus on him. “Keep doing that for me, okay?”

Tears well in your eyes, the lingering pressure of it all threatening to drown you. Heeseung notices. He always does somehow. “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Tell me about that band you used to love back in the day.” His voice is gentle, coaxing you away from the edge - it’s a contrast to how he acted a mere few minutes ago in the room. “The one Jaeyun was always jealous of because you had that rapper as your lock screen?”

A small, watery laugh escapes you. “Monsta X?”

His lips twitch into a grin. “Yeah, them. They still together?”

You nod, sniffing as you wipe at your face. “Yeah, some are still in the military though.” Your voice is quieter now, calmer as you focus on something other than the hell surrounding you. 

“Sucks, doesn’t it? I felt the same about ONF.” He chuckles, and somehow, you do too - though it’s accompanied by a sharp, aching sob.

“I didn’t mean to come here, Hee,” you confess, voice cracking. “Her sister is my best friend.”

His expression shifts, a flicker of understanding crossing his face before he removes his jacket, placing it over your shivering shoulders. “Y/N,” he sighs, knowing that his next words will tear you open and leave you bleeding on the cobbles, “you can’t be here. He finally moved on.” His voice is heavy with meaning, with quiet pleading. As much as he is angry at you, he still harbours a fondness for you from all those years ago. 

“He’s happy.”

A lump forms in your throat because every piece of your heart has just fallen from you, mushed together, and formed a suffocating clog that you can’t dislodge. So instead of words, you nod and pretend to accept it. What else can you do? You know he’s right, Jaeyun is happy, if he wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t be set to marry Yeoreum on Saturday. He moved on.

“Heeseung?”

Jaeyun’s voice strikes you like lightning. Your body tenses, the warmth of Heeseung’s jacket no longer providing a comforting warmth as chills creep up your spine.

“Can I talk to her?”

Heeseung sighs, standing to face his best friend. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.”

They speak like you’re not even here, like this doesn’t involve you at all. But you can’t bring yourself to interrupt. The tension thickens between them, and for a moment, you think Jaeyun might argue. He’s always been stubborn when it comes to you.

But tonight, at least, he listens. 

His gaze lingers on you - just for a second - before he turns back inside. You watch as he disappears into the crowd, as if this moment between you had never happened at all. And it kills you.

Because for the first time in four years, you saw the love still lingering in his eyes.

And for the first time in four years, you knew it didn’t belong to you anymore.

The party continues without you. The laughter, the speeches, the celebration - it all blurs into background noise as you make your way to the guest bedroom, brushing off questions with a simple, “I’m just tired from travelling.”

But the truth is, the real exhaustion isn’t from the journey.

It’s from loving him.

And knowing you can never have him back.

________

The house is silent now. That heavy silence that comes after a long night of music, laughter, and regret. You wake up abruptly, your throat gasping for a drink and your lips dry because even in sleep, your body has been fighting against itself. You can’t remember your dream - or nightmare - but your body feels heavy enough for you to work out that it involved a certain someone.

For a moment, you think the past couple of hours have been a delusion, you forget where you are as you glance around the spacious room. The unfamiliar plushness of the mattress beneath you, the gentle sway of the curtains in the night breeze, the faint scent of Eunseo’s lingering perfume in the air - it takes a second too long to piece it together. The guest room. The party. Him.

It wasn’t just a dream, unfortunately. 

A dull ache pulses behind your ribcage, a reminder of the past few hours, of the words left unspoken and the memories that had clawed their way back to the surface. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, but it’s useless. Heeseung’s voice echoes, Jaeyun’s eyes blaze into yours - the weight of it all clings to you like damp clothes.

You sigh, shifting onto your side, trying to force yourself back into sleep but the dryness in your throat is unbearable now, no amount of conjured-up saliva doing the the trick. You need water…and a gun at this point.

Slipping out of bed, your feet meet the cool hardwood, a biting contrast to the warmth of the thick duvet. The house feels different now - no longer alive with conversation and celebration, but resting, like a small village unfearing of a giant. The floorboards don’t creak under your careful steps, but the occasional rustle of your own movements sounds far too loud. Everything sounds louder when it’s quiet.

The hallway is dimly lit by the moon, the only illumination coming from the large windows at the end of the corridor. Shadows stretch long across the walls, elongating the picture frames that hold memories of a family that isn’t yours. You see Yeoreum, Eusneo, and their parents in different life scenarios - ones you can’t relate back to your own family. They’re so far removed from you in every way. 

As you pass by the slightly ajar door of the bedroom, you hesitate. For no real reason, no real thought, just a flicker of something deep in your chest. You know this is Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s room, you heard them retreat into it after a long night of smiles and congratulations. 

You move past it quickly, refusing to let your brain make the decision to barge in and confess your love for the engaged boy and kidnap him back to your boring, mundane life. Honestly, you didn’t think you had a simpleton life but after speaking with the Son family and seeing the extravagant guests tell their stories about weekends to the Maldives and owning football clubs, you realise very quickly that you’re just…normal.

Maybe that’s why fate put Jaeyun into Yeoreum’s arms. Because she is far from normal.

The stairs are bare now as you take them slowly, gripping the polished wooden bannister to alleviate some of the pressure from your feet. Each step is measured to not cause loud creeks. The house is old, and though elegant, it has its age showcased in the wood.

When you reach the bottom, the remnants of the night come into full view. Empty wine glasses left abandoned on tables, a few smudged lipstick stains marking their rims. The long banquet table by the staircase is littered with stray napkins and a couple of shattered glasses, carefully lined up as if waiting to be dealt with in the morning.

It must have been a wonderful night for them. And if things were different, you might have enjoyed it too.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your sleeve as your eyes drift toward the kitchen. A leak of light bleeds from the space, a soft glow pooling onto the fancy marble floors. Probably an under-cabinet light left on, a small remaining spark of the party’s electricity. You step forward, your feet scuffing lightly against the cold tiles, but the moment you enter the threshold, you stop short.

A broad back stands in front of the sink, shoulders slightly hunched, head tilted downward. The navy and yellow plaid pyjama bottoms he’s wearing are loose around his hips, contrasting the casual black T-shirt that clings to his form. They don’t match - not in style, not in intent - just something he must’ve grabbed without thinking before bed.

A creak sounds beneath you, alerting them to your presence. The figure stiffens before slowly turning around.

Jaeyun.

His face is softened by the haze of sleep, one eye still half-shut, the other squinting slightly as if trying to determine whether you’re real or just some cruel trick of his half-awake mind. His dark hair is tousled, flattened in places but still holding onto the remnants of styling wax from earlier. There’s something achingly familiar about him like this - undone, caught in a moment where he’s just Jaeyun. Just yours.

Except, he isn’t.

The air shifts between you, thick with words neither of you can say. His gaze never wavers, locked onto you with an intensity that tightens your chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, breaking the stillness as you step past him toward the fridge. 

It’s safer this way. To act like this is nothing. Like his presence doesn’t send electricity skittering all over your body. Like Heeseung wasn’t right when he warned you that this conversation - any conversation - was a bad idea. Because Jaeyun was never the kind to yell, never the kind to explode in anger. That wasn’t his way.

No. His love was always the dangerous part.

“It’s late,” he murmurs still hoarse with sleep. It reminds you of early morning rises for school where he kept you in his arms for just ‘5 more minutes’. 

“Or early.” You shrug, focusing on pouring yourself a glass of filtered water. “I guess it depends on whether you went to sleep or not.”

Your attempt at small talk feels flimsy and hollow, but it’s all you have. Anything else would break the fragile thread keeping you tethered to reason. You know it will be far too easy to just fall back into his arms. You saw how quickly he went to being your teenage love in that room.

When he held your face in your hands, he looked like he would still give you the entire world, still move mountains to make everything simple for you, and still love you despite your betrayal. It’s better to just…pretend.

Jaeyun watches you, unmoving as he memorises the way your fingers curl around the glass, the way the light catches on your cheekbone, the way your shoulders rise and fall with the shallow gulps.

For him, this moment feels unreal. You - standing here in this kitchen, looking like you belong, like no time has passed, like his world hadn’t crumbled all those years ago. It’s a cruel illusion, a cosmic joke. Because as much as you haunt him, he has never felt more at home than he does right now.

Just you. Just here.

“When did you get engaged?”

The question lands between you like a strike to his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. It forces him back into reality. 

With his head hanging low, Jaeyun traces the rim of his coffee mug with his middle finger, the slow, absent-minded motion showing his hesitation. He exhales sharply, the weight of his own words is too heavy to bear.

“A few months ago.” His voice is quiet, not wanting to admit his new relationship out loud. 

He feels like he’s cheating on you. When you left, he didn’t get closure. All he got was a ripped-open heart and no materials to heal it, wounds left open for the world to hack away at. When he started dating Yeoreum, she patched some of those holes but just your presence in this house has opened it all back up again.

His heart bleeding for you.

You nod, lips pressing together as you grip the cool glass of water in your hands. There’s a tremor in your fingers, but you ignore it. You have no right to feel this way, no right to let your heart ache at the revelation. He’s engaged. You knew this. And yet, hearing him say it makes it all the more real. 

Jaeyun shifts slightly in his seat, his knuckles tightening around the ceramic mug before he exhales again. “What about you?” He hesitates, scared of the answer. “You seeing anyone?”

“No.”

It’s sharp, clipped, too direct to be casual. You don’t want to elaborate, don’t want to give away the truth - that there hasn’t been anyone, that no one else has ever felt right. That even after four years, even after all this time, he is still the measure against which all others have failed.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he wants to say something. Tell you he’s relieved? That it makes him happy you’re not with someone. That’s too cruel considering he’s the one promised to another. 

In his hesitation, you find your own voice instead. “Eunseo…she’s my best friend,” you offer, the words tumbling out like an explanation, almost an apology. “I didn’t know it was you getting married to Yeoreum. I promise. I’m not…I don’t want…”

You will him to look at you, to see the sincerity in your eyes as your words fail you. But he doesn’t. He just nods, slow and mechanical. 

“I’ll make up an excuse to get out of here before the wedding.”

At that, his fingers still. The room, once thick with words made of small talk and tip-toeing around the main issue, suddenly feels suffocating. And then, his voice sparks up, soft but laced with something raw, something close to heartbreak.

“Why did you leave, Y/N?”

The question freezes you in place.

“Tell me why,” he continues, breaking at the edges. “Because for four fucking years, I still haven’t been able to figure it out.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You don’t even know where to begin. How do you begin? You couldn’t tell him when you needed to most, so how could you now? 

Instead, you bite down on your bottom lip, forcing yourself to steady the tremble in your breath. Suddenly, the thought of him looking at you is unbearable. But of course, now - now of all times - his eyes are locked onto you, unwavering.

“You owe me that much.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter as you grip it, focusing on the feel of it as your mind twists and turns. The glass of water is forgotten as you force yourself to speak.

“I…” The word barely makes it out, caught in the tightness of your throat. “I just left.”

“Bullshit, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s voice is sharper now, frustration creeping in. He shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he leans forward. “You don’t just leave. You don’t just disappear without a word, without a fucking explanation to the people you love.” His hands press against the counter, knuckles paling as they mirror your terrified ones. “I waited. I called, I texted - I even went searching. I thought something happened to you at first.”

His voice dips lower, quieter, but it doesn’t soften the way it cuts through you. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were dead because that was the only way my mind could comprehend you leaving me. Leaving us”

Your breath catches.

“Then your mum showed me that letter and I…I still can’t wrap my head around it Y/N. We were so fucking happy. Then poof! You’re gone without another word. I have lived four years of my life worrying about you, wishing that you would call. I haven’t even changed my number just in case you finally decided to reach out and we could be us again.”

The hurt in his words fill you with dread. You hadn’t thought about how it must have taken it’s toll at first, but you didn’t really think about how it would still effect him, not in the way he must have lived through it. The sleepless nights. The unanswered questions. The fear.

You feel like a fucking idiot. A selfish one at that. 

 “I didn’t get into any colleges that I applied for. None near Busan.” Saying it to him, admitting it after all this time feels…less significant than it did when you were eighteen. 

Jaeyun’s brows knit together, confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean? I thought you only applied to schools near Apollo. We had planned-”

“My grades weren’t good enough to get into any colleges in Busan.” There’s venom in your tone, but it isn’t directed at him - it’s at yourself.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If I had told you I wasn’t going with you, I was scared you’d give up your dream school. That you’d just - fuck it all off to be with me.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And you would have, Jaeyun. You would have thrown everything away if I asked. I couldn’t do that to you. I would’ve lived with the guilt every day, watching you settle for something less than what you deserved. I loved you, Jaeyun - I couldn’t do that to you.”

Jaeyun flinches at the past tense in your confession. 

But he doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he rewinds, his mind struggling to make sense of it all. “So you left our relationship because…it would be long distance?”

You swallow hard. “Jaeyun, it wasn’t just that. I thought about it, I did. But I knew you would grow at college without me. And I kept thinking about what you said…”

His expression shifts slightly, confusion washing over his features. “What I said?”

You nod, blinking against the stinging in your eyes. “About how people grow apart when they’re in different places. How they slowly break away from each other because they become different people.” You laugh, but it’s hollow, tinged with pain. “You said ‘I can’t do long distance’ and it got in my head. I couldn’t bear to slowly lose you. So I-”

“So you thought leaving me without a word was the right way to go?” His voice cracks and the hurt is so evident; the way his eyes are shaking, his voicebox now with a slight trill, the ragged breath escaping from his chest.

Jaeyun stands up, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape that sounds like a foghorn in the dead night. He crosses the small space between you, hesitant yet resolute. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to touch you. He made that mistake earlier, your soft skin leaving a lasting impression on the palms of his hands and tips of his fingers.

God, he missed how you feel.

“Y/N,” his voice is lower now, pushing his urges down. “We could have worked it out. We would have found a way.”

His hand moves before he can stop it, despite the screaming in his head to tell him to back off. His fingers brush against your cheek -  reverent, afraid you’ll recoil. But you don’t pull away and his heart skips. A single tear slips down your cheek, and his thumb twitches, resisting the urge to wipe it away, the act feeling too intimate. 

Shaking your head, you finally look up at him, eyes glazed in regret. “I was stupid,” you admit in a whisper. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You already had so much going on - school, work, your whole future ahead of you.”

Jaeyun says nothing, just watches you with that same tragic expression.

You inhale shakily, willing your heart to stop pounding. “But look at you,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You went to college. You grew up. You moved on. Look at what you have.” Your hands gesture weakly upstairs, to where Yeoreum sleeps peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing in the kitchen below.

Jaeyun doesn’t look toward where his bride-to-be sleeps.

He just looks at you. Always at you.

“We could have had this, Y/N.” His voice is meek but the meaning behind his words is heavy. “You could be the one I’m marrying - if you just let me take care of you like a partner is supposed to. If you trusted me enough.”

Your stomach knots, your fingers curling into your palms painfully. “I did trust you, Jaeyun.”

“Not enough.” Jaeyun exhales, frustration bleeding into his words. “Not enough to tell me what was going on when I gave you that ring.”

You look away because you know he’s right. You hate that he’s right. That night when he gave you that ring, that is when you should have confessed your plans and worries. It was cruel of you to promise him a happily ever after and then ditch him the next morning.

That is something you will never forgive yourself for.

“Y/N,” He huffs out loudly and drags a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “That should have been your opening to talk to me about all this. I love you so much - I would have made long distance work.” His voice is edged with desperation, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim kitchen, waiting for something. Maybe a sign that you regret it, maybe a sign that you still love him the way he so clearly still loves you. “When I gave you that ring and made that promise to be yours forever, I wasn’t fucking around, okay? I meant it.”

You don’t realise you’re shaking your head until he lets out a dry laugh, reaching for your hands.

His fingers slide over your skin, warm and familiar, and you hate how easily you let him hold you. Hate how your body reacts to him before your mind can protest. This is a man who is getting married and yet your body thinks he still belongs to you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice softer now, raw. “I love you.”

Your breath stutters. Each time he says he loves you it’s in the now, not the past. Your thoughts twist and turn, reading between every line. It’s obvious his feelings are heightened with the shock of you, that’s why he’s acting this way…not because he actually means it.

Right?

“Jaeyun…” you whisper, but there’s nothing else you can say.

The kitchen hums with an unbearable silence, save for the soft buzzing of the refrigerator and the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. Jaeyun notices the way your gaze flickers down to his lips, sees the way your breath shudders as he licks them wet.

He leans in, just enough that his breath fans against yours.

If he kisses you, if you let him - there will be no going back. You’ll melt into him, you mere ice and him the burning sunlight. 

His forehead almost brushes yours, your hands still locked together, his fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. He doesn’t want you to leave him. Not again.

Your heart lurches. This is wrong. You know it is. Yet, that gravitational pull brings your lips impossibly close to his.

And then - footsteps. Loud and unexpected, echoing into the suffocating quiet.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. You push Jaeyun away, stumbling back a step just as another presence enters the kitchen.

Jaeyun barely moves. Even with the interruption, his gaze doesn’t leave yours. Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill, and his lips part like he wants to say something - to call you back to him, to fix this. 

But he doesn’t get the chance.

“Baby,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shake your head, barely able to breathe. Without another word, you turn on your heel, shouldering past him and heading back to the guest room.

“Y/N?” His tone is defeated, lacking hope.

Your feet falter for the briefest moment, but you don’t turn around. You’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Jaeyun - you can’t make this one.

Jaeyun begins to move, following you, reckless abandonment overtaking his better judgment, but an arm shoots out, gripping his shoulder and halting him in place.

Jaeyun looks up, breathless, still reeling from everything that just happened.

Heeseung, his best friend, stands there with an expression that immediately sends a wave of nausea through Jaeyun’s stomach. Heeseung’s grip is firm. Unrelenting. He didn’t need to be present for the conversation to know what transpired. He can feel the electric charge that still lingers in the room. He can see the heartbreaking gaze in his friend’s iris’. He can feel love bouncing off the tiles.

“Jake,” he murmurs, warning him. “Don’t.”

“Heeseung-”

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head, his hand tightening briefly before he lets go. “Not tonight.”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenches. “You don’t get it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker toward the doorway where you just disappeared, then back to Jaeyun, something knowing and sad in them.

“I do,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

Heeseung knows better than anyone the connection you both have. It’s all consuming and the kind people go to war for. That kind of love is dangerous, especially in this environment.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his fingers tugging at his already-messy hair. His body is still warm from where you touched him, from where he held you, and he hates how much he still feels you even when you’re no longer in the room.

Heeseung watches him carefully before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

“She’s here because of Eunseo,” Heeseung says. “Not you. Not…this.” He gestures vaguely between Jaeyun and the empty space where you stood just moments ago. “She’s not part of your life anymore, Jake. She hasn’t been for a long time.”

Jaeyun looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You think I don’t know that?”

Heeseung doesn’t answer.

For a long moment, neither of them say anything. The moment envelopes them thick in the air. How the fuck did all of you end up in this situation? 

Then, Heeseung sighs again, softer this time. “Come on,” he says, voice gentler. “You should get some sleep. Back to your fiance.” His eyes are stern albeit understanding.

Jaeyun lets out a humourless chuckle at the not-so-subtle reminder. “Yeah. Sure.”

Despite his need to see you, to keep talking this out with you - to kiss you - he retreats, ready to fall back into bed. But sleep is the last thing he’s going to get tonight.

---

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@jayeoniee @jakessrealwife @zyvlxqht

[pirateprincessblog]

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

*

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

ew.

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

[teenidlegirl]

꣖　 BEAUTY OF THIS MESS 　꣓　 ᤢ♥︎　 CHAPTER　.　22 　!

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　while miguel is gone, you navigate the final days of your pregnancy alone until you go into labor. luckily, he surprisingly returns in time for welcoming your daughter into the world. you and miguel finally start enjoying life as a family.

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　angst, pregnancy, heartbreak, labor, vaginal birth, fluff, domesticity, family dynamics, breastfeeding, timeskip, 18+ mdni, mild smut, girldad!miguel, happy ending

꣖　　previous　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　masterlist　　꣓

miguel’s departure left an open wound that’s unable to heal. it was so hard… no matter what you do, all you can think is him and constantly worried about him. you need him, you need him here, you need him back. since he’s in special forces, there is no way of contacting him. you didn’t know if he was still alive or… dead. horrible thoughts plague your mind. you want it to stop but you can’t. stress isn’t going for you and the baby, you know that and try your hardest to not overwhelm yourself for the sake of your baby. conchata has reminded you several times to try to not feel stressed out and allow those terrible thoughts to consume you since it’s unhealthy. she has been supportive throughout this whole thing. of course she’s constantly worried about her son, every mother would be and she has been dealing with this for nine years. no matter how many times miguel left, even when they weren’t talking to each other after gabriel’s death, she still worried about him.

since miguel left, you’ve been navigating the last stages of your pregnancy. conchata has not only been supporting you emotionally and mentally but physically and pretty much everything else. just like miguel, the woman didn’t allow you to do much but simply rest. she heavily insisted since you can pop at any moment. a very supportive future mother-in-law, well you already consider her that. to cheer up the both of you, she’d tell your stories when miguel was a little boy. how he used to dress up as spiderman for fun and pretending to be the iconic hero. sometimes gabriel would dress up as the green goblin and they would play together as hero and villain. he and gabriel taking swimming lessons together, pushed his younger brother off the diving board which he got a shit load of trouble for. the one time miguel fell off his bike and busted open his chin after hitting the ground hard, later required stitches. that almost gave conchata a heart attack, she was more traumatized than him. the times when george allowed miguel to ride his bike and do wheelies around the neighborhood, which he got in trouble for. you remember when miguel told you that. all the memories she mentioned did make those anxious thoughts disappear, making smile and laugh instead. but deep down inside, you miss the love of your life.

time has passed and you’re one week away from your due date. damn you feel exhausted from this baby. you look like you’re carrying a planet. well, that’s what happens when your baby daddy is literally 6’9 which is a giant. yeah definitely no more kids after this, not for a long fucking time if you and miguel consider more in the future. right now, you’re focusing on your daughter and anticipate her arrival. you’re excited for two things: your daughter and to finally pop her out. the nursery has been prepared and you can’t wait to see a cute baby in the crib. all the plushies and stuffed animals waiting for her.

you can’t believe you’re gonna be a mother. something you never thought of happening to you. since you were a teenager, you never had the desire or dream of becoming a mom. baby dolls were never your things as a child and you never mentioned being a mom as something you’d like to become on school assignments about what you’d want to be when you’re older. even when relatives ask if you wanted kids, you always said no or not really thought about it. at the time, you focused on school and career. but when you started dating joel and became a part of his family, that was a glimpse of motherhood or just being a parent figure in a way. sarah always viewed you as a motherly figure despite how young you were, considering joel was in his early thirties and you were in your early twenties at the time. you didn’t feel much of a motherly figure until later on. that was when you began considering sarah as a daughter to you. she was your first glimpse at motherhood.

after your relationship with joel ended, your thoughts on motherhood reverted back to what they were originally: uninterested. perhaps the break up soured your interest. those two years were fucking painful, especially the first year. but later on, you met a man who became the love of your life and forever changed your life. miguel changed your life in many ways. a true, loving relationship which unfortunately suffered for a bit but then rebuild itself back to that loving relationship. the biggest change was the baby, the tiny miracle that’s a combination of you and him soon to arrive. an unexpected miracle but you already love this child with all your heart and can’t wait to shower her with endless love.

this is your true shot at motherhood. not gonna lie, you’re a bit nervous and being a parent isn’t an easy task to know right off the bat. many things will come, changing endlessly diapers, breastfeeding until formula is needed, sleepless nights, crying during the night. what you dread the most is the sleepless nights. say goodbye to sleeping in, especially if your baby is a light sleeper and wakes up constantly throughout the night. god you really hope she’ll be able to sleep through the night. but either way you have to prepare for whichever scenario. all you hope for is a to be a good mother and try your best. to try your best for your daughter.

currently, you and conchata are shopping at the grocery store. despite her many objections and insistence on you staying home, your excuse was that you needed to move around after being cooped up at home for months and to stretch your legs. although she was against it, conchata knew you were right. after shopping for what you need, you head back to the car. once the trunk was loaded, conchata takes the cart back and you wait for standing outside basking in the warm sunshine. you wear a simple yellow sundress since it’s been recently warm.

while waiting for conchata to return, a small wave of discomfort suddenly hits in your lower abdomen. instinctively, you place a hand over the area of pain and hunch over a little. for a moment you believe it’s braxton hicks since you had them a few days ago. but another wave of pain shoots through your stomach again, more intense this time that makes you groan in pain and hunch over more. then, you suddenly feel wetness escape and down your legs. glancing down, there is a tiny puddle on the floor.

oh fuck, your water broke.

you’re going into labor, in a fucking parking lot.

groans and wheezing of pain escape your lips as the contractions begin. shit this can’t be happening now, it’s a week away from your due date yet babies can come whenever and your baby girl decides to come today. while hunched over groaning in pain, an older couple approach you with concerned expressions. they ask what’s wrong and if you need help until they register you are having contractions. thankfully, conchata returns but immediately rushed over after seeing you in pain. she recognizes that painful state.

“ay dios, mija!” she comes to your side. “let’s get you in the car, okay?” you can only nod since you’re in pain and she guides you to the car, being very so carefully. she quickly thanks the couple for about to call an ambulance before rushing to get inside the car and take off to the nearest hospital.

thankfully, the hospital wasn’t too far. next thing you know it, you’re in the delivery room dressed in a hospital gown, laying in a bed, and still groaning in pain as the contractions continue. conchata contacted your family, your parents will arrive soon, your siblings will later when they can. while suffering from immense pain, your minds wanders back to miguel. he’s still gone and your daughter is about to be born. the thought brings tears to your eyes. you miss him so fucking bad. you’re in labor, about to give birth to your daughter and he isn’t here. not here sitting by your side, holding your hand, and whispering soft praises of love. instead he’s in south america doing god knows what kind of dangerous mission. he will be missing the birth of his daughter and it breaks your heart. you knew miguel was so excited for this day to come and witness it but now only to be taken away from him. he was so excited to become a father and prepare to shower his baby girl with much love. you remember he babbling about how excited he’d be carrying your daughter in the car seat once you were ready to go home. now that may never happen and it breaks your heart even more.

suffering from this shitty ass contractions increases your need for miguel. you need him here, you need his support, you need his comfort that he always provides. you just need him back. although conchata is here for you, you still feel alone because the man you love isn’t here. so alone dealing with this horrible pain that you wish it would stop. besides desperately wanting to pop this baby out, you need miguel. you can’t do this alone, you’re afraid to do this alone. tears begin trailing down your face as thoughts of miguel ran through your poor distraught mind.

you need him, you need miguel.

the contractions grow more frequent. the doctor and nurses inform you that you’re ready to give birth. the moment you’ve being waiting and dreading for. waiting because you’re finally about to pop this baby out and meet your baby girl. dreading because of the fucking terrible pain. but besides those two feelings, you also are upset that miguel isn’t here to witness it. the sad thoughts don’t help out with the contractions. pain and tears aren’t fun. there is no other choice. you have to do this alone, despite how scared you are, you have to do this for your daughter.

with conchata’s hand holding yours as she sits beside you, you begin pushing. even with the damn epidural, the pain still sucks ass. your screams and groans of pain echo throughout the delivery room. droplets of sweat trail down your face. never have you experienced so much pain. it’s so unbareable that every word of reassurance and praise from the doctor and nurses is pissing you off. telling you you’re doing great when actually you feel like absolute shit. yeah there is no way in hell you’re doing this shit again. it’s a damn oath for sure. with each push, the pain increases. you hate it so much. why does birth have to be so damn painful? remember those kid movies when babies were delivered by storks? yeah, you were that was real. how simple it would be if you want a child, they would brought down by a stork and dropped off on your doorstep. no pain, nothing. or if you want a baby, they’ll magically appear in your hands. but nope, you have to go through this awful pain to let that happen. being a mother is fucking rough.

the pain is too much. after too many pushes, the baby is still not coming out. she is stubborn as hell, pretty much like her father. you lay back against the pillow, crying out of exhaustion. it’s too much, you can’t do it. no matter what you thought earlier, you can’t do this. you can’t do this without miguel beside you. you need him here, you need his support. how can you bring a baby into the world without her father, the man that you love, here? no matter the words of encouragement and praises from the doctor, nurses, and conchata, none can compare to miguel. those sweet praises that always make your heart flutter. nothing can compare to his sweet words and praises. no one can compare to him.

“the baby is almost here! just one more push!” the doctor exclaims, offering an encouraging smile.

thank the fucking higher beings.

despite your wishes for miguel to be here for this moment, you have to do it alone. hopefully when he returns from the mission, he’ll meet the baby. as you prepare to give one final push, the door swings wide open. everyone, including you, turn with wide eyes at who suddenly barged in the room.

it’s miguel.

he is here. he is actually here. oh my god miguel is actually here. he came back, your love came back.

those gorgeous brown eyes wide open. chest heaving due to feeling breathless after running around the hospital to find your room. miguel immediately rushed over to you.

“um excuse me, sir. who are you?” one of the nurses ask, trying to stop him but miguel dodges her hand from preventing him reaching to you.

“the father.” he didn’t bother to acknowledge her, his eyes never tore from yours as miguel crouches next to you. “i’m here, mi reina. i’m here.”

you look at him with wide, glossy eyes of shock and relief. “y-you’re here. you’re actually here!” your hands immediately cup his face, confirming that he is real and here with you in this moment.

“sí, mi reina. i’m here and never leaving you again. not like that ever again.” miguel said sincerely, his larger hands cup your face as well.

you cry out of relief and immediately kiss him. your wish came true. miguel is back and here by your side. he’s here and finally has the chance to see your baby born. you aren’t alone now, the love of your life is here alive and well. you couldn’t be more grateful.

“i love you.” you whisper in between kisses.

miguel smiles against your lips. “té quiero tanto.”

“h-how are you back? what happened?”

he softly chuckles, shaking his head. “i’ll explain later. right now, let’s meet our baby girl, okay?” his thumb caresses your cheek ever so gently.

you nod then give him one final kiss before preparing to push one last time. his hand holds yours while the other is still occupied by conchata. miguel flashes a quick smile to his mother, silently promising to properly greet her later which she doesn’t mind and focuses on you and the baby. now with miguel by your side, suddenly you feel much better and confident. taking a deep breath, you give one final push with all your might. miguel feels your hand squeezing the shit of his but doesn’t care one bit. it hurts him to see you in pain but he admires how strong you are. that’s his strong woman. after the strongest push you can do, it was done. you lay back against the pillow in relief and tears of happiness when you hear the cries of your daughter.

you did it, you welcome your daughter into the world.

“you did it, mi reina,you did it. you did amazing. you brought our baby girl into the world, té quiero.” miguel kisses your forehead repeatedly as a tear of joy trails down his cheek while the nurses tend to your daughter and quickly wrap her up in a blanket.

“congratulations, it’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor announces as he passes your little huddle of joy to you and you collect her in your arms.

another batch of tears swell in your eyes as you look at your daughter for the first time. she’s here and she’s so beautiful. adorably wrapped in a pink blanket. your baby girl is finally here, you can’t believe it. you are officially a mother.

although she’s only a few minutes old, you’re not surprised to see how strongly she resembles her father. a load of dark brown hair, sun-kissed skin, and has miguel’s nose. you figured miguel’s genes would be the strongest. she’s a mini replica of him.

miguel, on the other hand, is an emotional mess. seeing his daughter for the first time makes him cry silently. she is so beautiful and tiny. the most beautiful tiny little being in the whole universe. his baby girl is here and he already loves her so much. he is also not surprised how much she resembles, which makes miguel chuckle softly. she may look like him but she is beautiful as her mother.

“hi, mi amor.” you whisper softly to her as she looks up at you with those big beautiful brown eyes. your heart swells with much love for your daughter. “she looks so much like you.” you glance at miguel.

he softly chuckles. “she really does. hola, princesa.” miguel whispers, leaning closer towards her. a heartwarming smile plastered on his face.

conchata looks down at her granddaughter with much love. “she’s beautiful. you did amazing, mija.” she offers kiss on top of your head, making you glance up at her with a smile as a thank you.

“do you have a name for her?” one of the nurses ask.

you and miguel share a glance, pondering. even to this point, you still haven’t thought of a name for your daughter. not a single one came to your that felt right. thanking of possible names, you come up with one that brings a smile to your face.

“what about… gabriella?” you glance at miguel through glossy eyes. “in honor of gabriel.”

you notice the way his eyes widen in surprise yet filled with emotion. “r-really?” a surprise smile graces his lips as tears swell in his eyes once again.

“yes.” you smile lovingly.

tears of happiness trail down his cheeks. miguel knows gabriel would’ve love the idea and adore his niece to infinity. he would’ve been a great tío.

“gabriella is perfect.”

you smile at each other and share a kiss before looking down in adoration at your newborn daughter, your precious gabriella. your beautiful little angel. she simple stares up at you both. you and miguel can’t help but smile. hearts filled with love and joy while appreciating this loving moment as a family.

gabriella o'hara.

your daughter.

after spending a few days at the hospital, it was finally time to go home. you’re escort in a wheelchair while miguel carries gabriella in the car seat, just like he dreamed of. despite his many objections of pushing you, you didn’t want him to miss his chance of carrying your baby in the car seat and the nurse will be the one helping you. besides, you wanted to take pictures of him carrying the baby because damn he looks so attractive doing so. being a good father is a major turn on. he slipped into the dad role so effortlessly. while in recovery, miguel helped with everything he could. get you food from the cafeteria, settle down gabriella whenever she was fuzzy, help you to the bathroom, take care of the baby to let you sleep. he was a big helper and you appreciate it so much. you love that man indefinitely.

miguel is already protective of you. now with you and gabriella, oh he’s extra protective than ever. he vows to protect you both, his girls. to him, you and your daughter are fragile. he was so anxious helping you get in the car, worried that you could get hurt but you reassured him you were okay. however, you can’t blame since it’s his nature. especially him proactive of gabriella is really cute. it melts your heart seeing him being so gentle with your daughter.

when you arrived back at your apartment and carefully settled down gabriella in her crib for the first time, yours and miguel’s hearts melt at the heartwarming sight. she looked so peaceful resting comfortably in the crib that miguel built for her. tears of joy and pride in his eyes. eventually, a routine was developed that was compatible. you and miguel were pretty decent as new parents. learning to be a parent isn’t something to know right off the bat, it takes time and you learn as you go. so far you two have been doing great. taking turns of changing diapers and calming her down when she’s fuzzy during the night, mainly miguel taking the role so you can sleep. it’s been a busy yet blissful process.

one of those nights, miguel went to care for gabriella. “i got it, go back to sleep, mi reina.” he leaves a kiss on your forehead before getting up from bed, head over to the crib, and tend to his daughter.

ever so carefully, he picks her up from the crib and carries her. “shhh… it’s okay, princesa. papí’s here.” miguel coos as he quietly exits the bedroom, shuts the door, and heads to the living room.

sitting down the couch, miguel slowly rocks his daughter to calm her down. ultimately, she does the moment she feels the comfort of her father’s embrace and warmth. even though it’s completely dark, miguel can somehow see those big brown eyes staring at him. she is so tiny in his big hands, it melts his heart into pieces. rocking her back to sleep seems to working when he notices her loopy eyes. the adorable sight brings a smile to his face as he admires his baby girl. while rocking gabriella to sleep, miguel begins singing her a lullaby. a famous mexican lullaby that his mother used to sing to him. miguel still can’t believe he’s a father and has a daughter. unable to accept the fact he’s the father to this beautiful baby girl. it feels like a honor. leaning closer towards her face, miguel pauses singing to make a silent promise to be the best father to her.

days go on, navigating family life. one peaceful afternoon, it was time to feed gabriella. sitting in bed and leaning against the headboard, you undo the top of your dress to release a breast and begin breastfeeding your daughter. exiting from the bathroom, miguel walks in on the scene. warmth filled his cheeks and shyly looks away. he knows breastfeeding is a normal thing, he just feels like he’s invading your privacy. you notice his shy expression and you can’t help but giggle softly.

“no need to be shy, miguelito.” you say teasingly.

your boyfriend rolls his eyes. “i’m not… i just feel like… i’m invading a private moment.”

“you weren’t shy when you were doing the same thing a few weeks ago.” your eyebrows wiggle teasingly, making miguel groan bashfully.

“okay, okay. you got me there.” he offers a shy, guilty smile before sitting down next to you. “you’re doing amazing as a mother, mi amor.” he brings up a hand and gently rests it on your shoulder.

now you’re the shy one. even though you’ve been dating for a while, the man still makes you bashful mess with his sweet praises. “thank you, i’m trying my best. this shit is still crazy to me.”

“yeah but you’re doing amazing, you’re a natural.” his hand reaches up to caress your cheek.

you scoff. “okay, now you’re being too generous.”

“i’m simply telling the truth, preciosa.”

“well, you wanna know who’s amazing? this little girl right here.” you glance down at gabriella.

his eyes follow yours and admire his daughter, who’s too busy enjoying the milk you’re providing. “she is amazing, the most amazing girl ever.” lowering his hand from your cheek, he gently strokes her hair, feeling the softness against his fingers.

“imma make her watch all the shows and movies i watched when i was a kid.”

that makes him snort. “all of them?”

“duh, gotta show her the best, not those shitty ass shows today like cocomelon.”

miguel laughs at that. “okay, fair point. the animation of that show kinda creeps me out.”

“see?! i’m not the only one!” you exclaim but not too loud to disturb your daughter. “gabi is gonna watch spongebob so she knows all the references.”

“your knowledge in spongebob references never fails to amaze me.” miguel chuckles.

“if you didn’t grow up watching spongebob, you didn’t have a childhood. our daughter is not gonna be one of those poor kids. she’s gonna know the best.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “i won’t argue with that, spongebob is the best.”

you beam at that, brightly smiling. “that reminds me, i want her first birthday party spongebob themed so i can dress her up as gary.”

“the snail? you want our daughter dressed up as a snail for her first birthday?” he raised a brow teasingly, unable to hold back a smile.

“uh yes! imagine how cute gabi would look dressed up in a gary onesie. she has big eyes like him. i’m already looking for onesies online.”

miguel shakes his head, smiling. god you are so adorable. “well, she’ll be an adorable gary.”

you smile then look down at your daughter, whispering. “see? it was his hat, mr. krabs. he was number one.” you and miguel break into quiet laughter. first spongebob reference of the day.

a few months have gone by. when gabriella was ready to go outside, you and miguel plan a day for a picnic at the park. it was a beautiful sunny day. you and gabriella wear matching soft pink dresses. one thing you love having a daughter is dressing up together. make her wear the cutest clothes and even match sometimes. gabriella may look like her father but she has her mother’s sense of fashion. you want your baby to be a little fashionista, just like you. miguel can’t help but stare in awe of you both. the woman of his dreams and his baby girl. his two beautiful girls wearing matching dresses. the sight melts his heart. after finding a spot and setting up everything, you enjoy your picnic as a little family. miguel set up an umbrella to protect gabriella from the sun, and you of course. gabriella was old enough to sit up on her own, enjoying her food and being adorable as always. you take many pictures with your polaroid camera, savor the memories of course.

you’ve been trying to get gabriella into fruit. you packed bunch of fruit for the picnic. strawberries, blueberries, watermelon, and oranges. she has yet to try a strawberry so you take today’s change to do so and let miguel do it. grabbing a strawberry from the container, he holds it out to gabi with a smile. the little girl stares at it as if inspecting before those tiny hands reach out and grab the fruit on her own. the small action melts both your hearts.

“pruébalo, princesa.” miguel encourages her.

gabi stares at the strawberry before taking a bite. you and miguel anticipate her reaction, prepared for a fuchi face but instead she smiled and starts babbling excitingly. both your hearts flutter.

“she likes it!” you cheer. “you like it, mi amor!” gabriella continues to babble excitingly as a response. your baby girl likes another fruit.

“bravo, princesa!” miguel cheers.

hearing your praises makes gabriella squeal more, smiling at you and miguel.

another day, you and miguel are cooking dinner. tonight you settle on enchiladas. “bidi bidi bom bom” by selena blasts through your mini speaker in the kitchen. it’s a song you can’t resist dancing to. swaying your hips to the music, tapping your feet to the beat, miguel’s calloused hands on your hips sweating along with you, and singing along. it was a mini dancing session in the kitchen. gabriella sits in her high chair observing her parents having fun, squealing and babbling happily. while cooking, you let out a squeal when two large hands pull you away from the counter and swiftly turn you around.

“miguel!” you giggle as he begins leading you into a dance. one hand holding yours and the other holding your waist, chests pressed against one another.

he simply answers with a chuckle before raising your hand and twirl you. the movement seems to excite gabriella, making her squeal happily. you and miguel look at her with smiles. someone likes seeing her parents dancing together. you want to show your daughter what love looks like. as if you both thought of the same thing, you and miguel continue dancing. squeals and laughter fills the room. it was a beautiful night, a great dinner while indulging in fun.

TWO YEARS LATER.

“hey! be careful!” you shout with a smile from the kitchen window, watching your husband chase after your daughter in the backyard. luna chases after them both, barking and tail wagging.

gabriella squeals and squirms in her father’s arms as miguel catches her. “papí!”

“got you, princesa.” miguel chuckles. “todo bien, mi reina!” he shouts back at you, offering a smile. of course he would never put his precious gabriella in danger and is always careful with her, you know it too. you just find the scene so cute.

focusing back on cutting the carrots, you glance at the pretty diamond ring adore on your ring finger. flashbacks of your wedding day from a few months ago plays through your mind.

you and miguel got engaged the year before. you both agreed to wait for marriage until gabriella was a little older and wasn’t that needy. if it was in your favor, you two would’ve gotten married right off the bat but you needed time to adjust to this new life as parents. when the time came, you took the chance.

the loud thumping of your heart rings in your ears as you pace around the room. it was an small outdoor wedding taken place at your tíos house since they own a big house enough for a wedding. it was simply close family and friends. you and miguel wanted a small simple wedding with just the people you love. the extravagant shit wasn’t your thing. it felt so surreal. you were getting married to miguel, the love of your life, finally after so long. it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for and you’re still anxious about it, which is completely reasonable.

“¿estas bein, mija?” your dad approaches.

“yeah, just a little nervous.” you offer a smile. “i just can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“i know, seeing my little girl getting married.” a thin layer of tears forms in his eyes. he also can’t believe this is happening, his youngest daughter getting married. “you look beautiful, mija.”

“gracias, papí.” you smile with teary eyes, blinking them away to not ruin your makeup.

soon, the wedding theme song begins. it was time. with your arm linked with your father’s, you walk down the aisle. your heart beat races when you see miguel standing at the altar. clad in a tuxedo and slicked back hair. god he looks so handsome. he, on the other hand, is mesmerized by your appearance. a beautiful wedding gown that makes you appear so ethereal. miguel swears an angel is walking down the aisle. it’s unbelievable this angel will be his wife, that he will be your husband. it feels like a blessing to be your husband. you never fail to take his breath away. everyone has their eyes on you but yours are focused on miguel and his on yours, as if the world is a blur and the only thing that matters is you two.

once you reach the alter and stand with miguel, the ceremony begins and everyone takes their seats. after exchanging heartwarming vows which caused some tears, it was time for ring bearer to come. everyone turns to see the cutest thing ever. gabriella dressed in a baby pink dress being carried by her tío peter in one arm and the other he holds the pillow with your wedding rings. a chorus of awws fills the area as they watch the adorable little girl down the aisle towards her parents. everyone’s heart melted, including yours and miguel’s. traditionally, it’s a little boy who is the ring bearer but you wanted your daughter to take the role. once she and peter reach the alter, gabriella immediately squeals happily the moment she recognizes her parents. another chorus of awws fills the outdoor air.

“hola, princesa.” miguel coos at her.

“hi, mi amor.” reaching out with a hand, you caress her cheek then leave a kiss on her forehead which she smiles at. “thank you, peter.”

“of course.” he offers a smile at you and miguel. peter is already an expert on handling babies since he has one of his own, mayday, who is a few months younger than gabriella.

once miguel takes the rings, peter hands back gabi to your mother and back down with his family. after saying the i do’s and slip on each other’s rings, you and miguel finally kiss as husband and wife. the crowd cheers and clasp for the newlyweds. it was a dream come true. it truly felt like a fairytale.

your heart swells with happiness at the beautiful memory. glancing up again to check on your family, they seem to having lots of fun. you can’t ask for anything more. it all seemed perfect.

later that evening after putting gabriella to sleep, you and miguel retire for the night. or so you thought. you’re already in bed by the time miguel comes from the bathroom after a shower. a soft hum escapes your lips when you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face nestled in your neck, feeling miguel’s breath against your skin. as you’re about to drift off to sleep, miguel’s hand slowly begin to roam around your body. caressing, touching, and gently groping your soft curves through your silky nightgown. his hands runs over the line of your waist, down to your hips and thighs, then back up to your sides right underneath your breast. each touch set your body on fire. that familiar pressure in between your thighs begins to grow. oh you know exactly where this is leading to and you can’t help but smile.

“very touchy tonight, huh?” you tease, relishing those large warm hands roaming over your body. miguel’s touch is your weakness.

“you’re just so beautiful. mi esposa hermosa.” he murmurs against your skin. a hint of seduction in his tone as he continues those sneaky touches.

then, you feel it. his erection pressed against the back of your thighs. your clit begins pulsating. since gabriella is asleep and thankfully a heavy sleeper, one night of fun won’t hurt. with a smile, you turn around and capture miguel’s lips with yours in a messy kiss. wrapping one arm around his neck to bring him closer as your spicy makeout session continues. a soft moan escapes your lips when his hand gently gropes one breast. the silk fabric of your nightgown against his fingertips. before you know it, miguel is on top of you and slipping off your panties before doing the same with his boxers. a shared moan mingles in the air as his cock slowly slides through your tight, wet walls. his thrust start slow, feeling each other and indulging in this intimate moment.

“té quiero.” miguel’s breath fans over your face as he continues thrusting, making sweet love to you. “mi esposa hermosa, té quiero tanto.”

“té quiero, miguel. oh~” you moan when his bulbous tip hits your sweet spot, arching your back. your nails dragging into his back, creating marks and indents.

it was passionate love-making. just you and miguel in the comfort of your bed. relishing the intimacy of your love. soft moans and groans mingle in the steamy air. eventually, his thrusts increase until it’s nothing but moans coming from your mouths. soon you both reach the pinnacle of pleasure. you let out a soft whimper when miguel releases his warm load inside you, filling up your womb to the brim. once you both recover from your highs, miguel cleans you and himself up with a towel and rejoins you back in bed. his broad chest against your back, an arm around your waist, your hand resting on top of his.

“té quiero, mi reina. you and our daughter. thank you for everything.” miguel whispers so lovingly.

“thank you for choosing us. té quiero, mi osito.”

everything was perfect. you have a beautiful family. your handsome loving husband miguel, your beautiful daughter gabriella, and your adorable dog luna. you couldn’t ask for anything better.

꣖　𝓣ags. ♡ྀིྀི　꣓⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ꣖　if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why　꣓

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[euphemiaamillais]

playing dangerous pt 3 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//stockholm syndrome//dub-con//blowjobs//fingering//piv sex//mentions of kidnapping//possessive coryo//hair pulling

pt 1 & 2

he allows you to take dinner with him that evening, but before you can come to the table, he barges into your room, searching through the pile of clothes which you have left strewn across the bed; too watched with exhaustion to have put them away.

‘what are you doing?’ you ask in your softest tone, attempting not to sound like you’re scrutinising him.

‘i’m finding you something to wear, sweetheart,’ he remarks, settling on the black dress before; the one that you quite liked.

‘what for?’ you ask curiously, wondering if he’s going to take you out somewhere. your heart races—if you get out of the house, you’d get a chance to escape. it seemed to good to be true, you were probably getting ahead of yourself.

‘dinner,’ he replies. ‘i can’t have you sitting at the table in nothing but a slip. that’s hardly appropriate.’

‘are we having guests?’ you question, and he laughs, shaking his head. your heart sinks. of course, he’s too clever to put you on display so soon, when you’d make him look like a fool and start accusing him of kidnapping you.

‘no, of course not,’ he drapes the dress over his arms, and digs into the bag of underwear, deciding what ones he wants to see you in. of course, he has every intention of taking them off of you, but he wants to dress you up like his little doll; so you have to look perfect.

you watch him silently selecting the clothes for you, feeling no more than a mannequin. it’s ridiculous, it’s as if you’re being primed for the slaughter. you wonder if he’ll allow you the decency of dressing yourself, but you suspect not. you are exhausted, and surrender yourself to the humiliating experience of having his hands all over you.

coriolanus pulls the slip over your head, your arms limp and weak with hopelessness, and admires your form. if only dinner wasn’t sitting on the table. he’d bend you over right now if he wasn’t worried about the roast going cold—he’d ordered it especially for tonight, wanting to impress you. he figured if you saw how wealthy he was, you’d know he could take care of you, and that there was no need to keep rejecting him.

‘you’re so beautiful,’ he muses, one hand caressing the small of your back, feeling the smooth skin just above your ass.

you blush a little at the compliment, shocked that for once you aren’t rebuking him. his hands are still cold, and tickle as he touches you. he sits you down on the bed, and you comply, a little dizzy from exhaustion, watching as he spreads your legs.

he slides the underwear—black lacy things—up your smooth thighs, and you do admit you feel relieved to be covered. he’s seen so much of you today that you don’t bother to cover your breasts, and he ogles them. they’re so perfect; pert and utterly lovely. your nipples are hard from the cold of the room, not that you notice, you’re too distracted by the piece of flotsam on the bed.

he doesn’t bother with the bra, though he’s bought ones all to match—after all, his little doll must look the best. the dress is loose enough that he simply slips it over your head, and he figures it’s only going to come off soon; not putting your bra on leaves him with less time fussing about before he fucks you.

coriolanus pulls you up, noticing you’ve gone heavy, but when he pinches you a little at the waist you perk up, snapping out of your dissociative reverie. your stomach grumbles hungrily when you catch the scent of the dinner.

he sits you across from him at the table, which is small enough that it feels strangely intimate—perhaps it is. you find the strength in your arms to eat, too enticed by the delicious scent that you practically want to inhale it.

‘this looks delicious,’ you thank him, shoving the food in your mouth a little indelicately.

he watches you, an impish grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you shovel it down. you must’ve been starving, poor thing. he’d make sure you were full by the end of the night—blood rushes to his cock at the thought of him forcing you to swallow his cum. you’d misbehaved so badly today; he hoped you hadn’t forgotten that you had to pay the price.

coriolanus eats in silence, leaving you to feel a little embarrassed that your plate is nearly cleared once he starts his own meal. you decide to take a sip at the large glass by your plate, filled full with wine—you’re certain it’s not posca this time, for it tastes delicious. you’re greedy, and, perhaps hoping the drunkenness will spare you from too many feelings, you gulp it down.

the wine warms your veins, and burns a little as you swallow. he notices that your glass is half empty, a look of surprise crossing his features—you’ve clearly warmed up to his offers a little. and he’s glad of that. if you’re swayed by alcohol, it’ll be easier to get you on your knees. he knows girls are like that, he’s done it enough times, imbibing them with champagne to get them into bed.

‘are you enjoying your dinner?’ he asks, and you nod with a little giggle. you’ve never been able to handle alcohol properly, and your head swims with the consumption of the heady wine.

‘yes, it’s delicious,’ you lick the fork, and he eyes you with interest.

‘good,’ he smiles at you, and you decide to swallow the rest of your wine for good measure.

you’re afraid, you have to admit, foot tapping nervously at the floor. it’s cold in his apartment, and you see a window open, wind flapping at the casement. no wonder you’re freezing.

coriolanus finishes his food, and takes a slow sip of his wine, not taking it greedily like you. you can’t sit still, the previous lethargy you’d felt dissipating entirely, and making way for drunken giddiness. he takes note of this, and refills your glass with the wine.

you drink it obediently, the taste satisfying some urge in your throat. it’s terribly strong though, and your head begins to feel a little heavy, but nevertheless you are removed from the feelings of fury that were boiling in your belly earlier in the day.

‘now,’ he says, abruptly standing up from his seat and making his way over to you. ‘are you going to be a good girl and do as i say?’

a giggle plays at your lips, and you sway a little. you glance back at the now empty wine glass, realising how much you’ve had and how quickly it seems to have taken its effects.

‘i’m not sure i’ll be any good,’ you pout, hand reaching out to brush a piece of flotsam from his trousers.

he grips your wrist with his hand, fingers encircling the delicate thing as you gasp. he looks so foreboding standing above you, eyes blazing with anger, brows furrowed in frustration.

‘you’re going to go to your room, and i’ll be there in a minute,’ he commands, dragging you to the door. ‘i want you to think for a minute, about what i’ve asked, and then decide what to do with yourself. you can do that, can’t you?’

his mouth twists into a frown, and you nod, stifling the drunken guffaw that was threatening to spill from your lips. it was all so ridiculous, the way he told you what to do; like you belonged to him.

‘mhm,’ you mumble, trying to stand properly, relying too much on him to prop you up. you hadn’t realised how toned he was until now, and you felt your core burn a little with desire. had he always been so attractive?

you hated how he acted as if he owned you, but the alcohol had made you feel so heady that all you could think about was him touching you—you wondered what his hands would feel like up your dress; caressing your breasts, perhaps fingering your cunt. you clench your thighs together to quell the feeling, and give him a sleepy nod before stumbling into the bedroom.

—

you’re splayed out like a fool when he enters, wondering why he’s sent you to your room. if he wanted you so badly, why didn’t he just take you on the sofa? it was much more convenient, being two feet from the dining table.

you attempt to prop yourself up with your elbows, and watch as he comes to stand above you again. you stick one foot out, playing with his trousers. when you glance up at him, he isn’t pleased. you’re acting like an idiot; a blubbering fool in fact. he wishes he hadn’t poured you so much wine, but at least you weren’t whining about how you didn’t want him to touch you.

‘have you come to rape me?’ you tease, and he slaps you across the face. his hand leaves a searing mark, and tears spring to your eyes. your skin tingles from the strike, cheek red and blotchy.

‘you’re not funny,’ he scolds, bending down a little to meet you at eye level. ‘you’re going to do exactly as i say, or else i’ll bend you over right now and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.’

you sink back in fear, feeling his hot breath on your cheek, icy eyes spurning you as they flicker across your face, attempting to register your emotions.

‘okay,’ you mutter, surrendering to him. he’s terrifying like this; broad shouldered and so tall. you feel like if he squeezed you hard enough that he’d break you. it probably wouldn’t take much more to kill you… you wonder if he’s fantasised about that.

‘good girl,’ he smiles, anger disappearing with the first signs of your obedience. he knew it would prove difficult at first, getting a girl he’d kidnapped to obey him, but he didn’t realise you were such a little brat. obedience could always be taught, and you were complying more than you had this morning.

‘now,’ he begins, stroking your hair. ‘i want you to be a good girl and get on your knees. can you do that for me?’

you nod lazily, and slip off the bed, sinking to your knees. the position is uncomfortable, but the clenching of one of his fists is enough to keep you in place.

‘so pretty,’ he coos, thumb ghosting your lips. it’s the first time he’s touched them, and he marvels at how soft they are. he can’t wait until they’re wrapped around his cock, sucking as he fucks your pretty throat.

he slides his thumb inside your mouth, and you open just enough to let your tongue slip over his finger. he groans a little, the softness of your tongue as it coats his thumb in sticky saliva. you’re gazing up at him with wide eyes, wondering what he’ll do next. he’s taking his time, which surprises you. he seemed so adamant before, that you thought he’d have tossed you on the bed and begun his assault immediately.

your knees creak against the floorboard, aching as you attempt to remain in your position. he slips his thumb back out of your mouth, and wipes your sticky saliva all over your lips, smiling as he does so.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and you shake your head, thumbs twiddling in anticipation.

you watch as he undoes his belt, and then the zipper on his trousers, pulling them down to his ankles with one swift tug. his cock is bulging in his boxers, and your eyes go wide in shock—how big is he? you know so little about men, but you’re not so stupid that you can’t imagine that might hurt if he decide to put it in you.

‘look, you’ve made me so fuckin’ hard’ he gestures, palming his cock through his boxers. you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to swallow the fear that brims in your stomach.

he groans from his own touch, but doesn’t let his hands linger too much longer. that’s your job now, after all. his little doll to corrupt—he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside your tight little cunt, watching as you squirm under him, acting as if you weren’t enjoying every second of it.

coriolanus pulls his cock out of his boxers, gripping it at the base. you can feel bruises forming in your knees, and you want nothing more than to get up and stumble into bed, letting sleep take you. the wine has an almost hypnotic effect on you.

his cock is staring you right in the face. you’ve never seen one before—it’s large, so big you wince at the thought of him stretching you out. he’s so hard, you can see his tip is red and throbbing, veins pulsing a little angrily.

‘open your mouth,’ he commands, you shake slightly but oblige, and he slides the tip past your lips.

you’re not sure what to do, and so let it sit there while you stare dumbly back up at him. a scowl tugs at his lips, but you wait, wondering what his next instruction will be. you’re so uncertain, and afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t oblige.

‘suck it,’ he instructs, pushing it further in your mouth.

you stretch your lips around it, struggling a little to take him in. he’s not even halfway, but you can feel it push towards the back of your throat. he grunts, feeling your teeth scrape the top of the shaft.

‘teeth,’ coriolanus says with displeasure, and you feel your face turn bright red in shame.

you attempt your best to round out your lips and hollow out your cheeks, finding it easier to take him in. he groans, feeling your saliva coat his cock. you look so pretty on your knees, staring at him; dumbfounded.

‘fuck,’ he cups your chin, giving your cheek a soft stroke as he bucks his hips. ‘you’re so good, taking me in your mouth. you like it, don’t you? being a little whore for me?’

you nod, knowing not what else to do. he thrusts his cock further down your throat, and you choke, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. your mouth waters, tongue running up and down his veiny shaft.

‘use your hands if you can’t take the rest of me in,’ he says, and do you grip him, running one hand up at down. he’s just so big. ‘soon enough you’ll be able to take all of me, i’ll be sure of that.’

your eyes widen with fear, but you do your best to keep sucking, bobbing your head up and down. a few tears trickle down your cheeks, and saliva dribbles as you move your mouth up to the tip.

‘mhm,’ you grunt, sliding it out of your mouth to take a breath. you’re gasping, and he can’t help but laugh; you like like slut, knees shaking, lips puffy from the abrasion.

you press him back against your lips, tongue swirling around the head, watching as he nods in satisfaction. you’re a fast learner—he knew you weren’t entirely stupid. he can feel himself edging closer to his release, what with your tongue teasing the tip of his cock you dip your head back down, and take him back into your throat, gagging again as you attempt to take him down.

in this moment, you find, you want nothing more than to please him. please him because he’s commanding it, and you’re afraid of what he’ll do if you say no. but at the same time, you have to admit to yourself, something sends a shiver down your spine as you take his cock in your mouth, stretching your lips around the sheer size of it, gagging and salivating as he bucks his hips faster.

coriolanus lets out a ragged groan, and you feel something wet and hot spurt onto your tongue. you slide his cock out of your mouth, sticky with saliva, and find that it’s dribbling with spend.

‘swallow,’ he says, grabbing the base of his cock as cum dribbles from the tip.

you swallow the cum that is sitting on your tongue, it’s slightly salty, but you follow his orders. surmising what he’s going to do next, you open your lips again to accept his cock again, and he smiles. you’re learning very fast.

‘good girl,’ he praises, stroking your hair as you lick the rest of the spend up with your tongue, and again, swallow it. ‘you like that, don’t you?’

‘uh huh,’ you murmur, reaching one hand back against the bed to balance yourself. your knees are so sore.

‘you can stand up now,’ he remarks, tucking his cock back into his boxers.

using the bed, you stand up with shaking legs. your knees are tender; some of the skin is sunken in; purple with bruises.

‘look at you,’ he teases, watching as you stumble a little, legs so sore and achy. ‘your knees are so bruised. my poor little doll.’

you are hazy, but feel him push you down against the bed, locking your legs between his. he’s on top of you, biceps flexing as he holds himself up. you look angelic, just waiting for him to fuck you, the way your eyes are wide with want, and the way your lips tremble. you’ve still got cum at the corner of your mouth; and he adores how it looks, how he’s marked you as his own.

coriolanus slides your dress up your thighs, pushing it up to to your waist. the smooth skin is again dancing with goosebumps, his cold hands causing the skin to tingle. he can’t believe how pliant you are in his hands, how you aren’t even protesting. you’re too exhausted to push him off of you, and the aching between your legs is growing stronger as he brushes against your skin.

‘such a good girl,’ he murmurs, rubbing a finger over your clothed cunt. he can’t believe how pretty you look in those panties, the ones he chose and dressed his little doll in.

you gasp, feeling a surge of warmth through your body as he brushes against your clit. it satisfies that urge deep in your belly, and when he pulls his hand away, you find yourself mewling, longing for more.

‘please,’ you gasp out, a strange urgency in your voice.

‘did you like that, hm?’ he asks, ghosting his fingers teasingly over your panties. you’re so wet, you’ve soaked through the lace.

‘yes…’ your voice quivers, and you rut your hips, wanting more.

‘god, you’re so fucking wet,’ he groans, slipping a finger past the hem of your panties and sliding into your slick folds.

you’re so tight around his fingers, he can’t believe it. he can barely get one finger inside of you. he knew you’d be innocent, but the way you’d sucked his cock so well made him wonder how many times you’d touched yourself. but he adored the fact that you were all his—that he was the one to corrupt you, branding you as his own.

you whimper from the feeling; it’s deliciously enticing. the way he pushes against your walls, finger arching, reaching for something. he presses a thumb back to your clitoris, causing you to cry out. it’s so sensitive, and he rubs it in circles, watching you writhe about in ecstasy.

his cock is hard again, and he decides he cannot wait much longer. he has to have you. and besides, you haven’t earned your own pleasure yet. it was about what he wanted, after all.

he tugs your panties down, watching as your slick cunt is revealed to him. seeing it up close, beautiful and glistening, makes him catch his breath. he can hardly believe it’s all his.

‘god,’ he breathes, freeing his cock once again, and taking it in his grip.

you watch in anticipation, missing the feeling of his fingers bringing you to your pleasure. you felt like something was unfurling, but as he removed his touch, you were left wanting, cunt clenching around nothing.

you squeeze your eyes shut, and feel him run the tip of his cock in your wet folds; it doesn’t hurt, but you are waiting, gnawing at your lip as you wait for him to slip inside of you. coriolanus presses the head of his cock into your cunt, catching his breath as he slides in.

you’re even tighter around his cock, and he feels your walls trying to compensate for his girth, stretching out around him. your breath is heavy, and you grasp at the sheets. you won’t lie, it hurts. if you weren’t so drunk you probably would have attempted to make him pull out, but he doesn’t seem to likely to be persuaded.

his fingers had been pleasant, and perhaps if you’d met in another way, you might have let him fuck you eventually. at least you could console yourself that he was gorgeous, even if he was probably a psychopath.

he pushes himself further inside, groaning as you take him in. your slickness coats his cock, and when he moves, sliding out a little, his cock is covered in a white ring. he knows you want him; you can’t deny it, the way you have bucked your hips against him, rutting like a desperate animal in heat. it was pathetic, and yet signified to him that you were all his. his perfect girl.

‘so fuckin’ tight,’ he huffs, beginning to fasten his pace. it’s taking in everything not to pound you right away—you’re so delicate, but he needs satisfaction.

you bite your lip, crying out as he thrusts. ‘it hurts,’ you can’t help but say, tears pricking in your eyes.

coriolanus scowls, finding it an insult to him that you’re being so vocal about it hurting. he grabs a fistful of your hair, and tugs you up to meet his gaze. your head tingles, hair strands clinging on for dear life.

‘did i tell you you could complain?’ he taunts, and you shake your head, attempting to pry him away from you. he only pulls at your hair harder, and you feel your chest racking with sobs.

‘please… you’re really hurting me,’ you whimper, but he ignores you.

‘be quiet or i’ll really give you something to scream about!’ he loosens his grip on your hair, your scalp thankful, but his cock is still stretching you out.

you bite your tongue, laying back as he fucks you. god, you really are so tight. his cock is throbbing, and he wonders how many pumps are left before he’ll come, spilling himself inside of you. watching you squirm beneath him, begging him to stop—but really he knew you’d be thanking him soon enough.

you looked so pretty, eyes glistening with tears, lips trembling. he feels you clench around him, your own body involuntarily ceding itself to him. you feel a gush of warmth trickling out of your cunt—not that there’s much room with how big he is.

‘gonna fill you up,’ he grunts; hips bucking with need.

he can’t take it much longer, his thrusts grow lazy, and he lets out a breathy groan. you feel him release inside of you, hot cum spurting against your tight walls. coriolanus wants to keep it inside of you though, reminding you that you’re his, and he’ll do what he wants with you. he ruts lazily into you, cum coating his own cock as he pushes it further inside of you.

‘mhm, you’re so good to me baby,’ he presses a kiss to your cheek.

he notices the tears on your cheeks, and laughs a little. coriolanus wipes them with his fingers, gazing at you with his cruel, icy eyes. he can’t believe you’re crying. what a stupid little slut. you’re so innocent that you can barely take his cock.

‘did i hurt you?’ he taunts, and you nod dumbly.

‘poor thing,’ coriolanus coos. ‘you were just so tight; i couldn’t resist. but you took me so well.’

you feel more tears rolling down your cheek—you’re aching, and as he pulls out of you, you feel his cum dripping down your thigh. it’s so sticky; you want it off of you, but he’s still got you in his hold, thighs trapped between his large legs.

‘are you going to thank me?’ he asks, gripping your chin as you attempt to look away. you’re so ashamed, and your head is pounding from the wine. the overstimulation is washing over you.

‘thank you, sir.’ you offer meekly, voice choked up from all the crying.

a sick grin curls at the corner of his lips, and he carefully thumbs at the dark bruises on your neck; where he had marked you earlier.

‘you’re all mine,’ coriolanus tugs at your bottom lip, coercing your mouth to open.

he spits inside, and you feel it hit the back of your throat. there’s something so animalistic, so primal about the way he does it. you know you don’t belong to yourself anymore. you live to please him.

‘now swallow it; show me that you can obey me,’ he commands.

you do so, feeling the hot spit trickle down your throat. the tiredness nags at your eyes, and you find yourself blinking rapidly.

coriolanus smiles, watching as you learn to become more obedient. soon he won’t even have to coax you. you’ll just do as he says. get on your knees when you see he’s had a long day at work, spread your legs when his cock is hard. you’ll be at his beck and call—the perfect woman for him.

‘good girl.’ he says, and all you can do is smile, knowing there’s no way out of this. you belong to him now.

—

taglist: @personalque @justacaliforniandreamer @jacesvelaryons @weirdothatwritess @theallknown213 @becauseseaotters @nowitsmissing @wearemadeofstardust0 @tulips2715 @faephoria @juuuvis @dracoflaco @sorry-mrs-jacobs

[waterdeepwife]

Gale NSFW Headcanons

Paring: Gale x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, talk of different kinks, both soft vanilla Gale and kinda kinky Gale, unprotected sex, P in V, typos probably, bondage, soft top/gentle dom! Gale, student/professor roleplay, oral sex, mirrors, edging and teasing, typos, Mystra mention(gross), that might be all? Proceed with caution and take care of yourselves!

Gale is a freak there is no denying that, but he also knows how to keep his freak side in check. He knows not everyone will be into what he is into, so he tends to start off very vanilla in the start of relationships. (Unless asked otherwise.) And he always has a safe word in place.

He was slowly beginning suggesting new things in the bedroom starting off very light and sweet. An example would be where he asks if you’d let him tie you up as he eats your pussy. If you are a virgin/never been into BDSM before he will only restrain your hands, he doesn’t want to scare you. But if you experienced/want to be tied up more he will happily accommodate you. Gale uses a purple rope that won’t burn or hurt you, or he will simply use magic to keep you in place.

Gale prefers to be on top and to be the dominant one, but he is very sweet and caring. All because he loves you and wants to please you, to show how devoted he is to you.

He will never do anything that will hurt you. No choking, no slapping in the face, no weapons. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to you even if you liked that. However you could get Gale to spank you, but it’s very light and barely stings as he rubs your ass afterwords.

The wizard takes some time to admit that he has a huge kink for Teacher and Student Roleplay. Loves when you play a bratty student who won’t behave, or a sweet, innocent student desperate to raise her grade. Gale will conjure up a fake classroom to even make it seem more real. He gets into his role as your dirty minded professor easily.

Loves to teasing and edging. He wants to spend as much time as possible making love to you, to be close and bond with you. So Gale with edge you both at the same time. He fuck you until you are both close to your release, only to pull out and tell you how much he loves you. How he doesn’t want this to stop and he needs a moment to catch his breath. All while his hand snakes down to your pussy and starts teasing your clit and hole. He also loves when you tease him orally. He doesn’t like blowjobs fast and sloppy, but slow and sensual. Gale goes crazy when you fondle his balls and sucking him gently, he mumbles about how close he is into for you to stop. He will whine and beg for you to keep going, but you only giving little licks to his tip.

Gale could come from praise alone. Calling him a good boy makes him so weak in the knees, it makes him work even harder/faster. Lives to please you and knowing he is loved, and appreciated, and doing a good job means the world to him. He will also reciprocate the praise; “Such a good girl.” “You feel so good, my beautiful woman.” “You are taking me so well.”

The wizard also conjures up mirrors surrounding you two, so you both can get a good look at what’s going on. There is always a mirror on the ceiling so you can watch Gale pound you while you are trapped under him.

Gale is a simple man when it comes to positions in sex. He loves missionary so he can keep you close as watch your face. But he also loves spooning sex, typically right before bed or when you both wake up in the morning, he loves it for lazy sex. Other positions he’s tried with you are; Face off, leap frog, table top, against the wall, your legs over his shoulders. Probably some others.

He also loves to overstimulate you, if you allow him. Which it honestly just stims from Gale is a pussy addict and loves to be between your thighs for as long as he can. I’m not kidding trying to tear him away is not an easy thing to do, he pouts and whines and begs for more. If you need a break or want to move along he will agree out of respect, but he is already missing the taste of your pussy.

I’m sorry to all you big dick lovers but we keep things realistic around here. Gale isn’t a very big man, so his cock isn’t huge either. When fully erect his dick is just a little over five inches long, but he is decently thick. He knows how to use it, how to thrust at just the right angle to make you see stars.

I have a toxic headcanon that Mystra would use magic to make his cock bigger, which lead him to being even more insecure and feeling unworthy.

Aside from his talking Gale isn’t very loud during love making. He mostly makes soft groans and hums as he rocks into you, or he will pant or breathe heavily. Even when he talks to you it’s sweet whispers and promises.

He doesn’t like being called Daddy, it makes him cringe. Gale might want to have children one day and his children would call him Daddy- so it rubs him the wrong way to be called it in bed by his wife/lover.

Gale loves filling you up with his seed and just holding himself inside you while you two catch your breath. When he pulls out he holds your legs apart so he can watch his cum pool out of you.

He is the king of after care. He loves to clean you up, rub your body and make sure you a warm and comfortable. Gale tells you how well you did, how much he loves you and promises to always be by your side.

[ddollfface]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚; 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

Being The Daughter of The Orgre Is Difficult, Especially When It Comes to Dating.

It was a struggle, dating that is. Throughout your life, there’s always been something that causes boys to run away from you, both literally and figuratively. Though the actual running died off as you got older, instead, they’d just look you up and down and chuckle, whispering something to their friends before walking off. During those times, you wished they’d just run away screaming their heads off, that way they wouldn’t bruise your ego with harsh words and nasty stares. 

This wasn’t that big of a deal, at least when you were young. In your early years, you were far more concerned wondering what your mama was going to cook for dinner, or how far you’d make it on the monkey bars (you always did all of them, no question about it), so you didn’t really recognize this aversion boys had for you. If you did, then you just didn’t care. The idea of romance was clearly not on your mind as a seven-year-old. 

But, just like most girls, you grew up. Your body began to change and morph into that of a woman, albeit an awkward one, but a woman nonetheless. You were getting older, changing, and noticing how society viewed you differently, not just because you were a woman, but because you were… well… you. 

Of course, being a girl in this world put you in an interesting position, seeing how society had certain expectations of you, even though you were still so young and oh-so dumb. How can one expect someone so young, who hasn’t even lived for two decades, to know if she wants to birth a whole human? Let alone have more than one! The judgments didn’t stop there. There were constant stares, constant whisperings, and rumors going around that you weren’t a girl, instead, you were some old man disguised as a girl because there was no way a girl could ever look like that. Because there was no way a girl could ever carry that much, or run that fast, or act like that.

There was no way that you were a girl.

And so, not only did boys avoid you, but so did girls. Most people deemed you to be weird, abnormal, and frankly a little scary. The way you were framed, carried yourself, and looked was just too odd not to stare, not to gawk, and not to talk about. You were just so strong, so capable of crushing a bone to dust, and everyone knew.

Everyone knew that you were strong, not just by looks, but from personal experiences. You excelled in the physical arena and somewhat advanced in academics as well, but you really stood out on the court, field, or really anywhere where physical strength and agility were required. Even without thinking, you were capable of so much, so much more than everyone combined. You didn’t need to do anything, simply flicking a baseball would send it further than any major league ever has, or kicking a soccer ball into the atmosphere with a flick of your ankle. Yeah… your teacher knew that whenever you were put into a game, he wasn’t going to get a ball back, so you weren’t. 

Simple as that, you weren’t allowed to do anything, too harsh, too strong for everyone else. Your teachers knew it, your classmates knew it, and you knew it.

So naturally you were a repellent when it came to dating, not that you’re interested or anything. For sure, you’ve never thought of holding a boy's hand, or running your fingers through their hair while they rested on your muscular thighs, or going out to eat together, or going to the movies, or- 

Okay, maybe you’ve thought about it… but that’s normal! Everyone, at some point, wishes for some type of intimacy, right? Was it wrong that you wanted a boyfriend? 

No, it wasn’t, so when the foreign exchange student’s eyes met yours, you were a lost cause. At that moment, when he first walked into the room, taller than the average man, seemingly calm but a little lost, you were a goner. You were not obsessed, but extremely attracted to him. He was so different, and he didn’t know anything about your feats in strength, or how you may have broken an arm or two when you were younger…

He was your fresh start, your chance of having some normalcy throughout your chaotic life of training and searching for victory over it. Ah, right… You forget about it sometimes, how it’s stare seemingly never leaves, always observing, watching, and calculating. At certain times, you feel as if you’re on TV or something, as if you’re about to be PUNK’D. It never happens though... At this point, you’ve gotten used to it, accepting it, and now searching for it. 

Throughout your life, this thing, creature, man, or government has always watched over you, leaving you some money to pay the month’s expenses, keeping food on your table, and seemingly encouraging you to buy some heavier weights, which you ignore. Rather than the occasional envelope with cash on your doorstep or maybe the occasional fighter sent your way, who you suspected was sent by this thing, there was no contact between you and this creature. You didn’t know it’s name, why it’s doing this, or how it knows you. And it’s always been that way, and you’ve accepted it in your life, deeming that you’d crush it anyway. You never thought it’d ever reach out to you.

And let’s just say you were in shock when you were given a note, a piece of paper lying on your dingy, kitchen table. Though it was just a piece of paper, it was so intimidating, so threatening that you couldn’t help but lose your breath at the sight of it. It’s not that you’re scared of paper, but instead, what was written on it.

After seventeen years, what could it possibly have to say? Almost in the blink of an eye, you were standing over the paper. It was fancy, you noted, picking it up as you examined it, not even reading it. It was quality paper, as much quality paper can be, and it had a little emblem in the corner. That piqued your interest, getting closer you gasped, throwing the paper onto the table. 

Why the hell is the 5-7 Paulownia seal on this stupid paper? Picking the paper back up, you let your finger graze over the seal, solidifying that it was in fact the seal of the Japanese government. With a sigh, you decided to read the paper, trying to ignore that whatever has been watching you has some type of power in the government, especially if they have access to this type of material.

.

.

.

Stop with this girly bullshit. You’re a Hanma, you don’t settle, so quit it with that blondie and get used to it. Y.H.

Huh? Who knew such few words could cause so much turmoil? After all these years, this is the most you’ve ever heard from this thing, who may or may not be a government official, and happens to be an asshole as well. You couldn’t help but clench your jaw, crumbling up the paper as you threw it into the trash, not thinking twice. Grumbling under your breath, you rolled your eyes, deciding to cook some dinner. 

Who was this guy, and you assume it’s a guy because no woman would say that type of shit, to order you around as if he’s your dad?

Hanma, you think to yourself, sitting down with a bowl of soba in front of you, Pretty sure that’s the name of that one fighter… You looked up in thought, stirring the noodles mindlessly, feeling as if there was more to the thought, but you didn't get to finish it.

Knock 

Great, who could that be? To your surprise, and your heart's demise, you’re met with the so-called “blondie.” You smile, feeling yourself go weak in the knees as you looked him, creating some small chit-chat, feeling time fly quickly. And you almost cry when he asks you out, questioning your sanity when he tucks some hair behind your ear before walking away. You can’t even remember what he said anymore, was it the aquarium? Or was it the park? You, honestly, don’t care, just too giddy to express a coherent thought. 

The note no longer on your mind once you sat down, smiling at the bowl, mindlessly stirring as you sighed. For the first time ever, you finally have a shot with someone, someone who doesn’t care about how strong you are, how you look, or how others think about you. He doesn’t care if you’re taller, stronger, and could honestly beat his ass, he likes you.

So caught up in your thoughts, that you completely miss the dark aura looming through the window. A man with crimson hair, flowing down his back, and twirling through the wind as his bloodlust seeps throughout the city. His smile taut as he clenched his jaw, watching from afar as his kin wandered down the wrong path, not even paying any mind to his warnings, his cautions. Brown eyes trailed the figure of a giddy blonde, who pumped his fist in the air, too happy to acknowledge any peering eyes. 

With a sigh, the monster of a man followed after the stupid schoolboy. If no one was going to listen to him, then he’d just have to take action, wouldn’t he? After all, what kind of father would he be if he let his only daughter mingle with such pests who couldn’t even bruise her pinkie finger? 

What a stupid girl, He thinks as the breaking of bones and squealing gets lost in empty air, a disappointed frown seeping into his features.

[saucymunch]

megumi x reader one shot fluff slightly suggestive megumi fluff secret relationship

it was a hot summer day. the sun was almost ripping through the students black uniforms, and everybody just wanted to take a nice bath and go inside the air conditioned building.

"hey! you can't just take my water bottle kugisaki!!!" yuji whined, doused in sweat from his duel with maki.

nobara finished her swig of yujis fresh cold water, "oh come on! you're not gonna let a woman die of sun poisoning, are you?" she complains, throwing his bottle back to him, as itadori huffed.

you and megumi had just finished your spar, with you winning, as always. "nice to see the two of you interacting for once!" gojo snuck behind the two of you, as he snaked his arms around the both of you.

nobara and yuji walked over. "yeah! you two are always avoiding each other like the plague." yuji laughed.

"now that i think about it, are you two even friends?" nobara cocked her head to the side, placing a hand on her hip.

you shuffle your feet to step away from gojo's grasp. "oh, i don't know." you breath out, clearly uncomfortable as your gaze moves to the dirt.

megumi simply looks to the side, mumbling something about how they need to mind their own business with a big scowl. gojo chuckles, and gathers all the students.

he passes out water bottles as he explains to everybody that they were now free to do as they please, even allowing them to go off campus if they wanted for the next week. gojo was set to be out of town, and all of the upcoming missions had been assigned to yuta, who was back in town. it was now the second and first years unofficial and unexpected summer break. the students thanked their white haired sensei and all headed back to their dorms.

as you were walking back, you made sure to walk behind everybody, to talk to megumi.

"hey, you gonna go see your parents over break?" he inquired, lightly bumping your shoulder.

"nope! was planning on just spending it with you." you whisper the last part, making him blush a bit.

the sun was bright orange, finally deciding to set. it was a humid hot afternoon.

"we should go to the onsen. gojo gave me two coupons. plus, nobody's gonna be there since it's so hot out." he suggests, almost reaching for your hand to hold, before realizing he couldn't because you were out in public.

the two of you continued walking towards the dorms, keeping a safe distance from the rest of the vibrant students, who were all discussing what they should do with these rare off days. you could see maki and inumaki cheering, clearly exhilarated. you also could clearly see kugisaki and itadori bickering over what movie they should watch.

"sounds perfect, meet you outside of your dorm at six?" you ask, smiling at the spiky haired boy.

he nodded contently, and the two of you split ways.

after packing a backpack of onsen necessities, you changed into a white linen tank top, as well as blue striped linen shorts. grabbing your phone, you texted fushiguro that you were on your way.

and before you knew it, the two of you took the train to a quieter and more rural area of town, where rice paddies began showing up.

"wow. we must've come far if there are rice fields! it's so refreshing being off campus!" you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the the countryside while stretching after stepping off the train, as you let go of fushiguro's hand.

megumi lets out a small laugh, seeing you so excited.

"come on, it's this way." his soft hand grabs yours, and you happily follow him, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

his eyes widen, and his cheeks flush as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"be careful, what if someone sees us?" he looks around, worried.

"pffft. there's only grandmas and grandpas near us right now. no way we'd run into anybody! unless you just don't like my kisses, fushiguro." you huff out.

the two of you are walking down a dirt road up a mountain. the sun had already set, and a few lantern lights lit up the trail.

"you know that's not what i meant. i just wouldn't be able to stand the endless teasing if they found out." he says, already fuming at the thought of it.

"mhm." the onsen was now in sight. it was rather large, and looked perfect. you could see the steam rising behind the bamboo trees and wall.

"now quit calling me fushiguro, i don't like it." he says, letting go of your hand to show the elderly lady his coupon.

"and you two know this is a konyoku, right? perfect for couples or large groups of friends!" the old lady smiled as she informed and handed the two of you the passes.

megumi nodded. "thank you, ma'am." he replies.

you both walk to the lobby, where you both part ways briefly to change. this onsen specifically was unisex,

and allowed you to cover up with a body towel in the water. you wrapped the thin towel around your body, clipping it into place, as you slowly walked out of the changing room, careful not to slip. your eyes landed on megumi, and he smiled as he signaled for you to come over. the onsen pool was outside and large, and steam filled the air. more steam than usual made it hard to see. since it was night, the few lanterns on top of the large stones lit up the area, making it almost romantic. you were prepared for the entire date to be gross as it was already so hot and humid out, thinking the hot steamy onsen would make you feel worse. instead, the warmth of the water as you dipped your toe in, the sight of your seemingly perfect boyfriends face, and the refreshing and slightly chilly summer night time breeze had cured your aching muscles and melted away your worries.

megumi had a towel draped over his waist. you fully submerged your body into the hot water, holding your towel in place. megumi watched in awe, as you slowly waded through the water to him, his small smiling growing, as the ends of your hair got wet.

"oh! could you tie my hair up, please?" you asked, holding out your hair tie, with a grin.

megumi rolled his eyes, taking the black hair tie. "i don't understand why you like it so much when i touch your hair." he says gently, as he meticulously pulls your hair into a bun.

his large hands run through your hair as he finally ties it.

you hum in satisfaction. "just feels good."

the two of you sigh, finally relaxing after weeks of endless missions and not being able to properly spend time with each other. every time you want to see megumi, it meant sneaking around after hours. it was exhausting.

"so nice how nobody is here. you were right, no one comes to the bathhouse when its hot out, especially at night." you commend him with a kiss.

after a few moments of silence, you speak up.

"you know, it wouldn't be all too bad if we just- told them." you suggest, as megumi pulls you closer, his toned arms wrapped tightly around your stomach area concealed by your towel. his chin was resting on your head.

"i would. i would if the people in our lives were somewhat normal." he sighs out.

"now that i think about it, i can imagine the endless teasing." you exhale out, feeling megumi's hands slowly start to move under your towel, as he feels the skin of your stomach. it's not even sexual, just pure love.

"i missed touching you. i almost forgot how you felt." he softly smiles into your neck.

you're hugging his left arm, rubbing circles on his bicep with your thumb, as you unwind.

"i wish this was forever." you breath out, completely lost in his eyes as you straddle his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"we will be." he locks lips with you, completely closing the gap between you both.

his soft lips are now kissing you. completely enchanted by each other. pure euphoria floods the both of you, as your hands are tangling and running through his already messy hair, making it even more disheveled. megumi is slipping his hands under your towel again, hands spread wide, but only touching your back and sides, careful not to touch anywhere too intimate, but craving every inch of you. the two of you forgot to breathe, didn't want to.

your reminder to breathe was here, as you and megumi heard the screen door from the changing room open, while you were still straddling his lap, hands still tangled in his black hair, his hands still under your towel, gasping for air, hoping the dense fog would hide your swollen red lips and obvious messy hair.

"why did we have to come to an onsen in the middle of june, itadori? we could've gone shopping!"

but folks, you can only sneak around for so long, and fog can only be so dense.

nobara dropped her tin cup of water, the cup hitting the ground with a loud clang.

her mouth hung open, eyes wide.

"f-fushiguro. and y/n. kissing." itadori points, mouth also hung open.

you quickly pushed yourself off of megumi, fixing his hair, and he tugged your towel, moving it back to place.

you moved to sit back next to megumi, leaving an honest distance between the two of you.

"nobody will believe you two." megumi blurted, squinting his eyes.

itadori simply stared, still processing everything. nobara's eyes grew ten times larger, anger fueling her bones when she realized megumi was right. nobody would believe them. the two of you were so bland to each other at school! you barely talked to each other! people thought you hated each other. were they even friends, people thought.

so on the train ride to the shopping district the same night, which nobara and yuji had to tag along, when you and megumi sat next to each other behind nobara and yuji, you both snickered at nobara's anger. the school had just recently took everybody's phones for a short period of time as a punishment, so she couldn't even take a photo for evidence when every time she looked back at the two of you, you were snuggled up next to each other, or kissing. she fumed and cussed you both out when she wasn't able to take a picture and or video of when megumi carried all of your shopping bags, when he had lovingly put your hair up, when you had cupped his cheeks to kiss him publicly for the first time, when he held your hand so tight he didn't want to let go, when you bought matching keychains and matching sneakers for you both, when he constantly had a stupidly big smile every time he looked at you.

she was happy for the two of you of course. it was just mind boggling. yuji was pretty chill with it all. the occasional, "i thought fushiguro hated everybody on this planet" but nothing bad.

when they had reached campus to return to their dorms, they all stopped by the common lounge.

you and megumi simply laughed at nobara's attempt to try and convince the second years and gojo of what they encountered today. "i swear, they were making out in the onsen!" she whined, desperate for evidence.

but nobody believed her. there was no way. until, satoru had projected a video onto the tv.

"the old lady at the front desk of the onsen was kind enough to lend me some security footage. it was a clothed onsen after all, so cameras are allowed~!" gojo snickered, seeing megumi's face heat up.

the video was a minute long, of you and megumi going at each other, it was evident his hands were sneaking under your towel, your hands tangling his hair, your lips locked onto his.

the video even had sound, which sounded rather inappropriate.

megumi tackled gojo, wrestling him to turn the video off, and the rest of the student watched in awe. nobara was manically cheering, screaming "i told you so" at the top of her lungs over and over again. yuji was covering his eyes, saying he "didn't need to watch it twice", and you were prying megumi off of gojo, who was shrieking for help.