#But i would never stoop that low again

[0scill4te]

i keep wanting to overshare

[lilac-mushroom]

.

[dissolved-g1rl]

stars fadin’ but I linger on ⋆˙⟡

Dream would never stoop so low as to describe the situation with vulgarity, but he feels as though Hob describes it best, Morpheus “really really fucked up”. He will fix this, at least…he’s trying. Flowers was the first step, then was an expensive perfume, next was a stormy nightmare. He’s not targeting you, despite what his siblings think, he has learned his lessons from past relationships. In fact many people have had rather stormy dreams, the king of dreams grief is palpable to millions all over.

You’re summoned to the dreaming, thats how you know Morpheus is through with quarreling. The halls seems impossibly long as you make your way down his castle halls. It’s a little embarrassing to be here, wearing your pajamas. A pinch to your skin, a light slap to your cheek, and a mantra of “this is just a dream” are the methods you try to wake yourself up, all to no avail. The halls seem to twist, only certain doors unlocking as the dreaming is bent to the will of its ruler, leading you down to the throne room. Surprisingly, the king of dreams is not residing in his throne.

“You came.” A familiar voice appears from behind you, you don’t need to be a genius to know who it is.

“Did you really give me a choice?” You ask, he set you loose like a rat in a maze, just tempting you towards the sharp taste of cheese. “I suppose not.” Morpheus replies, “Though you didn’t give me much of a choice but to call you to my realm.” He rebuttals, he looks pleased when you take a seat in his throne, bold little thing you are, even in your cute pajamas. The feeling is unlike another, like a fine wood, sturdy, more comfortable than you thought. “I needed some space.” You shrug tapping your nails against the arm of the chair. “And I’ve respected that, have I not?” Morpheus’ voice is a tinge of frustration and a tinge of want, nervousness twists in your stomach as he makes his way up the steps. He won’t hurt you, you know that, but he is still very well known for being temperamental towards his lovers.

Finally Dream stands in front of you, looking down at you. What he does next surprises you, he kneels. Morpheus resides between your legs, resting at your feet. Instead of looking down at you, he’s looking up at you with reverence. His lips are slightly parted as he looks at you with an almost pained expression, “Angel, my northern star, forgive me, I was a fool to push you away.” Morpheus grabs your hand, placing apologetic kisses from the tips of your fingers to you wrist. Each one slow and methodical. “Dream…” You murmur, totally stunned at the sight before you. The king of dreams kneeling whilst begging for your forgiveness, no one in a million years would ever believe you. His hand clasps yours and he lays his head in your lap like a lowly animal begging for scraps of attention. He looks up with you with his dark eyes, you take pity on him, caressing the side of his face, he sighs with relief, you touch is like a soothing balm upon his aching heart. “How I’ve missed you.” He mumbles, you want to laugh at how melodramatic he is, it’s half neurotic half charming. “C’mere…” You murmur, leaning down, cupping under his jaw to tip it upwards, your mouths fit together, Dream gets eager, chasing your mouth with his when you try to pull away. You laugh, it makes him smile, and things feel as though they’ve been mended again. That night millions all over are no longer subjected to dreams with hail and lighting, but instead replaced with soft clouds and the warm sun poking out after a dwindled storm.

dividers by @strangergraphics

a/n: sorry for lack of fics lately i have been busy preparing for a trip (っ- ‸ - ς)

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[physalian]

Avoiding Plot Holes by Seeding Doubt

Having an “expert” character conveniently fuck up right when the plot needs it to happen, when they otherwise would never, always loudly looks like the hand of the author sabotaging things. Which is exactly what’s happening.

However, if you set up that scene in a way where that fuckup is possible and warranted, you can turn “this is so contrived” to “omg I knew that was going to happen”.

Some suggestions!

Firstly, if we’re dealing with humans, humans are not machines. Variability in skill even at the expert level happens. Go watch the Olympics or any professional sporting event and people have terrible days all the time.

In fiction, a conveniently terrible day because that’s just how this works doesn’t fly. Diablos ex machinas tend to go over easier than deus ex machinas, but a character failing at a critical challenge in the narrative for no reason screws with a lot of the tension and expectations. “For no reason” takes no effort by the author to set up and pay off, and it reads as cheap.

Behavioral variables

I am a novice archer. I write expert archers. I do not write supernaturally accurate archers. From the very beginning of my story, my expert, with four centuries of experience, isn’t nailing perfect kill shots with every hit. A) he doesn’t need to and B) leaving his enemy to die slowly and painfully is a low he will absolutely stoop to if he thinks it’s warranted.

He’s as good as he has to be and if he gets the job done, he doesn’t care if it’s a little messy. Him being messy and overconfident is what gets him in the end, too. If he’s trying, he’ll do better, but most of the time “eh, I got close enough, they’ll die eventually” is his mindset.

“Expert” in fiction being “this is a character who will reliably pass the challenges set up for them by the narrative”.

So if you have an “expert,” allowing them to get a little bit lazy and overconfident, or simply not think of themselves as needing to be perfect in a given situation, you allow yourself a lot of wiggle room for them to majorly fuck up.

Doesn’t work very well if I throw my archer into an archery tournament, but I haven’t done that, and I’ll get to that later.

Environmental variables

Using the archery example once again: Archery is finnicky and precision is key. So if you’ve got your archer, or any marksman, in a windy environment, they have to work that much harder to factor in the wind when setting up their shot.

If it’s rainy, or the sun’s in their face, or it’s dark, or it’s loud and they can’t focus, these things aren’t exact data points the audience is going to do the math on. Or, if they and their enemy are moving, which, in combat, is highly likely.

Physiological variables

Maybe your character didn’t get enough sleep, or they’re stressed about this moment, they’re cracking under the pressure, they’re doubting themselves, the enemy got into their head, or they’re distracted worrying about something else. Or they got drunk the night before, they ate too much or too little. They’re sick, their hands are sweaty, they’ve got a sinus headache. They’ve got cramps, or hot flashes, or earlier they pulled a muscle and it still tweaks.

These are all, once again, introducing doubt into the narrative so that, when they fuck up as the plot demands, the audience should consider “well they weren’t at their best, I believe it”.

—

The sloppy way to do this is to go, in the moment:

“But because it was windy, X missed his shot”.

Is this the first time the reader is learning that it’s windy? Pretty convenient to introduce it right as it becomes important.

Rather, establish your variable beforehand in a disconnected moment. Try to ground it to a different element, otherwise it might look like it’s being mentioned for no other reason than “this is important”. Or, if it’s environmental, bury it with the other sensory descriptors.

When establishing the scene and setting, casually mention how the wind is interacting with the characters—making their hair a mess, throwing pollen everywhere, making skirts billow, etc.

Have another character complain about this variable bothering them

Have the character instantly regret the decision they made the night before for unrelated reasons. Like, if they got drunk, now they’ve still got a headache.

Depends on the story and the audience, of course, but I personally think having the narrator explicitly call out the variable fuckery going on reads a bit hammy. I like letting the audience figure out what went wrong with the clues I give.

If the scene demands, I'll also let my characters get annoyed and upset about their shots going wrong and blaming the environment. So long as it's not "hand of the author here to tell you what went wrong" you've got options.

I wouldn’t pull this trick too many times, otherwise your “expert” ends up consistently not an expert and then their sudden success looks suspect and contrived.

If you are writing some sort of tournament where this character is deliberately setting themselves up for success and is considering all these variables… a great example I like is Todoroki vs Bakugo in My Hero Academia season 2.

Dude is an uncertain mess throughout the rest of his tournament once his “fuck you dad I’m gonna win by half-assing it” suddenly isn’t enough to beat Midoriya. He’s forced to face some Tragic Backstory and it throws him off his game—establishes doubt.

He has a string of successes once he starts taking baby steps with the other half of his powers, and in the finale, he’s up against someone where he really does have to give it his all if he wants to win. His brute force powers are up against someone who has honed his very specific and powerful abilities for a decade.

And he can’t do it.

The final fight stops being a matter of power metrics and who would win if they both were competing at their best with all the tricks in their playbook available, which is what most of the tournament had been up to this point.

Basically—it stops being a numbers game, and starts being an emotional one. If you have a character you need to fail at something, but who wouldn’t otherwise, consider shifting the battle from external to internal, so the task failure is just the catalyst for the real meat of the story: what this loss means to this person in the long run.

**Side note there are of course a ton of anime tournament fights probably better than this one, Rock Lee’s whole arc against Gaara is one of them, I just don’t remember it well enough to comment on it.

Not every reader is going to be savvy enough to go “well that’s going to be important later”. Use betas and editors to help gauge how vague or obvious your foreshadowing is.

But even if you have readers sussing out your foreshadowing: Part of the fun is figuring out how the journey will end, even if we know when and where. Otherwise tragedies and prequels wouldn’t be made.

The dramatic irony of knowing variable fuckery is at play when the character is unaware can be so fun as the audience. Horror films are kind of built on it.

[revehae]

girls goon too

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) / face fucking, virgin!reader, dubcon

summary ↠ jeno can’t take it anymore. you just won’t stop gooning in your bedroom for all the world to hear, and he’s tired of it. he’s pretty sure all you do with your spare time is watch porn. haechan suggests that he just jerks off, but his morals won’t let him; until he decides that he can’t hold back anymore. he has to shut you up.

wc ↠ 5.3k

a/n ↠ um… i know i said No to Nohyuck but i saw these pics of jeno and started hearing The Voices. i hope you guys appreciate me losing sleep over this. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“she’s doing it again,” jeno grumbled, walking into haechan’s bedroom. only because the door was ajar, though. he knew the sight he’d walk in on if it was completely closed would be worse than what you were surely doing.

haechan snickered, eyes fixed on his computer. “what’s the occasion? sixth-month gooning anniversary?”

jeno scoffed. he didn’t know why you did it. he thought jisung was bad, but you were next level. “i thought surely she would give us a break for november.”

“and she did,” haechan quipped, moving his mouse. “for all of three days.”

that was true. for the very first three days of november, the house had been relatively quiet apart from haechan’s shouting when he was losing. then, on the fourth day, it was back to hearing your annoyingly perfect fucking moans in the afternoon.

and god forbid your parents would be coming home late. you were relentless on those days, touching yourself to no end. jeno couldn’t stand it. he hated minding his business, trying to rest or work or do anything that didn’t require thinking about the sounds you were making as you persistently edged yourself.

but he couldn’t help himself. sometimes, he could hear your moans even when you weren’t there, and that was when he knew he was finally losing what little bit was left of his goddamn mind. 

haechan, on the other hand, didn’t seem as miffed. jeno was certain his brother could hear the noises you were making down the hall, but he was sitting here without a care in the world, typing an email to his professor of all things. which made no sense to jeno, considering he knew how much haechan liked noisy sex.

“okay, i’ll bite,” jeno said, crossing his arms. “how in the hell are you okay with this?”

haechan shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. he was well aware of the fact that jeno always got worked up when it came to you, which was fair. you were the biggest minx this world had ever known. “well, first of all,” haechan started, snickering again. “there’s a thing called jerking off. i’m sure you’ve heard of it. it’s really popular amongst guys we know.”

jeno looked almost scandalized. “i’m not jerking off to my stepsister.”

“then, you’re an idiot,” haechan retorted. “she’s given us enough material until new years. of the year after next.”

“it’s wrong.”

haechan rolled his eyes. “you’ve got such a stick up your ass, like a proper princess or something.”

“i’ll beat your ass, hyuck,” jeno warned. 

haechan threw his hands up. “i’m just saying. i’m not telling you to stick her in a washing machine, bro. but the answer’s obvious. just jerk off. you know you want to.”

jeno sighed. had he thought about it? obviously. but he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt, even if you made him perpetually horny. “i want to smack the shit out of you right now, but i haven’t done it yet.”

rather than recoil, haechan laughed. that asswipe finds humor in everything, jeno thought to himself, irritated. “and i commend your patience, man,” haechan replied. “but it’s only making you more frustrated when you could just bust a nut and be happy.”

jeno was thinking about it now. well, he had thought about it countless times, but he had never allowed himself to stoop that low. you were his younger stepsister and it was his responsibility to take care of you. not picture your face as you moaned and imagine how you would feel, tight and sticky and creamy as you wrapped around his…

haechan broke the silence, musing more so to himself, “maybe we should put her in the washing machine.”

jeno’s eyes flickered. “what the hell, man?”

“my bad,” haechan replied, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “i was just thinking out loud.”

fuck, now jeno was picturing that too. your house had one of those washing machines that opened from the top, not the front. too many times had jeno seen you struggle to take your clothes out, dangling over the washing machine and nearly falling inside. he would offer to help, every now and then, but he liked watching you climb the washing machine just to get your clothes from the very bottom.

it was much more realistic for you to get stuck in that than the kinds of washing machines in porn. 

haechan broke the silence again, still thinking. it was his greatest skill and simultaneously his worst habit. “if you’re so against it, why haven’t you just asked her to shut the fuck up then?”

that was a good question. jeno wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from an altercation, not with friends and not with family. he had certainly never shown haechan any mercy. he loved his brother, but he was annoying as all fuck.

“i see,” haechan said, smirking. see, annoying. “it’s because you don’t really want her to stop.”

jeno sighed. “yeah, fine. i don’t want her to stop. happy?”

haechan burst out laughing. always laughing, always scheming. he was going to get a stocking full of coal for christmas. “i have an idea.”

“oh, god,” jeno groaned.

haechan finally pressed send on his email and turned around in his desk chair. “hear me out. we should fuck her.”

jeno gawked in disbelief. then again, none of haechan’s ideas were ever truly brilliant. “you’re insane,” he murmured.

“thanks,” haechan chirped, the insult rolling off his shoulders. “just sleep on it.”

“you know what? sure,” jeno replied, walking out of his brother’s room and shutting the door. he didn’t want to hear another word.

he went about his day like everything was normal, going on a walk so that he didn’t have to hear you, eating dinner and watching netflix in the living room to ignore the fact that you existed altogether. and then he went to bed.

jeno couldn’t fucking sleep. on it, over it, under it. he couldn’t sleep whatsoever. 

it wasn’t like you were just loudly moaning all day long, that would be absurd. but every now and then, there would be a whimper you’d let slip. jeno could tell that you were actually trying to be quiet. but this was one of those nights where your parents wouldn’t be back and you were taking advantage of that. again.

jeno decided that he was at his breaking point. the need for you was too goddamn strong and he was tired of pretending that he was better. he couldn’t ignore it anymore. he couldn’t fight it, suppress it.

he threw the blankets off his bed and went to haechan’s room, the door closed this time. he knocked on the door and called out, “stop jerking off and get your ass out here.”

jeno heard a groan, one of the disgruntled sort. a few seconds later, haechan opened the door, a scowl on his face. “what the hell, man? your voice ruined my nut.”

it was jeno’s turn to laugh. he clasped a hand on haechan’s shoulder. “don’t worry. you’ll be in the mood again in no time.”

haechan lifted a brow. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

jeno nodded. 

“we’re gonna teach her a lesson.”

“we’re gonna put her in the washing machine?”

jeno’s smile instantly dropped and his hand fell from haechan’s shoulder. “why the fuck are you both so addicted to porn?” he asked.

the excited shimmer in haechan’s eyes died a little. “no, i was… i was just kidding. let’s go.”

jeno sighed and started down the hall to your bedroom, deciding not to argue haechan on that. it would be a waste of valuable time.

jeno knocked on the door and called out your name. “can we come in?”

there was audible shuffling as you called back, “just a moment!”

haechan glanced over at jeno. “so, how we doing this?”

jeno looked calm, collected. as if fucking his stepsister was something he did on the regular. “just follow my lead.”

you opened the door, a towel thrown around you. but your skin looked damp with sweat, not water. your face was a little flushed. it was obvious that you were naked. “um, can i help you guys?” you asked, somewhat breathless. 

jeno looked you up and down subtly. haechan, on the other hand, was damn near ogling you. the former repeated, “can we come in?”

“um, i guess,” you murmured, stepping out of the way so that they could enter your bedroom.

haechan closed the door behind himself, not that there was anyone to worry about. it was only the three of you in the house at the moment. 

jeno glanced away, looking for traces of what you had been doing. he found them very quickly; your laptop shut on your bed, the blankets messily thrown on top to conceal the damp spots in your sheets, and your shirt and shorts on the floor by your bed, implying you were only in your underwear.

“is there something you guys need?” you asked, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted. 

jeno walked towards your desk where your laptop probably should have been, though he saw something fearful flash in your eyes. his brows furrowed, but he didn’t inquire about it. he would figure it out on his own. “do we have to need something to want to visit you?” jeno asked, a small smile on his face. “i haven’t seen you all day long. we just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”

“oh, that’s… very sweet of you,” you murmured. “as you can see, i’m perfectly alive and breathing.”

“yeah, you’re breathing a lot,” haechan commented. 

jeno chuckled. he moved away from your desk and instead towards your nightstand, noticing your eyes still watching him like a hawk. “relax. what’s got you so worked up?”

“i’m not worked up,” you lied, eyes darting between him and your bed. 

that was when it clicked in jeno’s brain. the bed. you didn’t want him to see the bed. he chuckled again, sitting down on top of it. “are you okay? you look a little… flushed.”

“yeah,” haechan chimed in, moving your hair out of your face. you jolted. you had been paying so much attention to jeno that you failed to notice haechan had creeped up behind you. “and sweaty.”

you released a shaky breath. you were nervous, but you couldn’t tell them that. because then they would start asking questions. “i’m okay, guys. you can go.”

“why are you trying to get rid of us?” haechan asked, leaning in a little too close. “it’s almost like you’re hiding something.”

“what are you watching?” jeno asked, grabbing your laptop. 

your eyes widened in horror. “no, wait!” you exclaimed. you tried to stop him, but haechan was quick to pull you back against his chest. 

jeno opened your laptop, being met with a twitter porn browser. he feigned surprise. “oh, wow,” he said, merely blinking. “wow.”

“what is it?” haechan called from the other side of the room. 

jeno turned the laptop to face you and haechan. “guess she’s really into… creampies, sucking dick, and doggy style.”

your face was hot with embarrassment and you thrashed in haechan’s arms. “this is an invasion of privacy! you guys jerk off, don’t you?”

“jerk off? sure. watch porn for hours on end? no, i don’t,” jeno answered, setting your laptop down. he moved your blankets out of the way, revealing a few damp spots on your bed. “how long did you have to sit here for this to happen?”

you felt very exposed at the moment. like your deepest, darkest secret was steadily reaching its way around the whole world. “i’m not that bad,” you murmured, shy. 

haechan laughed. he tugged at the towel and brought his hand to your chest, pinching your nipple. “not that bad? you almost gave poor jeno over there an aneurysm with how enticing you’ve been.”

your whined when haechan squeezed your chest, tearing your gaze away from jeno to look up at him with wide eyes. “what are you doing?”

“fuck. yeah, that’s what i’m talking about, princess,” haechan groaned, pressing himself against your ass. “those sweet sounds have been driving him mad.”

any other moment, jeno would have narrowed his eyes at haechan and called him disgusting. but this was different. jeno didn’t care about what was right or wrong anymore. maybe he never truly had. what was certain right now was that any desire to behave in a morally acceptable manner was outweighed by the desire to fuck you brainless.

“bring her over here,” jeno said, shoving your laptop of the way to make room. 

haechan grabbed your waist and led you towards the bed, pushing you towards his brother. jeno grabbed your chin, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “gooning isn’t healthy,” he told you straightforwardly. “you know what you need?”

you glanced at him, fretful. the towel had completely fallen at this point, leaving you solely in your water, just as jeno had pieced together. “what?” you whispered.

“a fuck,” jeno replied unabashedly. “you’re so damn touch-starved. always complaining about how you want a boyfriend, but you never go out, because you’re too busy playing with your clit.”

your face was hot. honestly, they hadn’t given you the opportunity to cool down. but you had to admit that he was right. compared to how much you touched yourself, you didn’t go out enough.

“have you ever even had sex?” haechan asked, running his hands up your thighs. 

you wanted to hide so fucking bad, but that clearly wasn’t an option. “no,” you replied, ashamed.

jeno snickered, because apparently that was funny. “obviously,” he said, moving his thumb to your bottom lip. “this pretty body has gone untouched for too many years, that’s all. once you get fucked, you’ll be as good as new. worked for jisung. didn’t it, hyuck?”

“yep,” haechan chirped, nodding. “he was the biggest gooner i’ve ever seen. jaemin had so many roommate horror stories. then, we got him some pussy, and he’s all better now. actually goes outside and gets light that isn’t from his laptop.”

“so, what do you say?” jeno asked, turning your head back to him. “want something other than your fingers inside you?”

your heart racing. were you really about to agree to getting fucked by your stepbrothers? when it was over, you could blame it on the fact that you genuinely were touch-starved and desperate for a release for all this pent-up frustration.

and because you really, really needed to come after having avoided it for hours, you nodded your head.

“words, princess,” haechan said, his hands still gripping your thighs as he thought about how soft they were. “say it. say, ‘i want you to fuck me, haechan.’”

you swallowed, but you weren’t going to disobey. “i… i want you to fuck me, haechan.”

“jeez, you don’t have to beg. i’ll do it,” haechan replied, playful as ever. “and because it’s your first time, i think we should do missionary. is that okay, princess?”

“that’s… fine,” you murmured timidly. it didn’t really matter to you how he fucked you. you just wanted someone inside you. 

haechan was beaming, like he had prayed for this day and it was finally happening. “good. and if you ever want me to fuck you on all fours, you know the way to my room.”

the way haechan was looking at you was entirely overwhelming, so you glanced over at jeno instead, though he was also watching you intently. “what about… you?” you asked. 

jeno chuckled, thumb sweeping over your lips. “i don’t need to fuck your pussy. i’ll leave that to haechan. i just want to fuck this pretty little mouth that’s been keeping me up at night.”

haechan, growing impatient, tugged at your panties. you lifted your hips, watching him drag them down your legs. “jesus,” he murmured. “they’re fucking drenched.”

“they better be,” jeno replied with a chuckle, stepping out of his pants. “long as she’s probably been wearing them.”

haechan spread your legs, wanting to get a good look at the treasure hidden between them. he moaned at the mere sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal. “fuck, you don’t even need prep,” he mused.

as if you couldn’t get any more embarrassed than you already were. they knew exactly what to say to make you want to hide your face beneath a pillow and hopefully suffocate to death.

despite his declaration about you not needing prep, haechan couldn’t help but drag his tongue along your folds, which made you gasp in surprise. it wasn’t a tentative lick, either; he was confident and unreluctant. you were clearly sensitive, but he didn’t seem to care, eager to suck and lick at you.

“haechan,” you whimpered, involuntarily trying to close your legs. he swore his dick twitched when you said his name like that. 

all the while, jeno was stroking himself beside you, half hard. for the first time thinking about you at the same time that he touched his dick, and god, he really should have done it sooner. just the thought of you made his blood pump harder. 

haechan pulled back after a moment or two when he was finally sated. “sorry,” he apologized, completely inauthentic. “just wanted a taste.”

jeno tapped your cheek. “open up, baby.”

you slowly opened your mouth, wide enough for him to push inside. which jeno seized the opportunity to do as soon as it presented itself. he was impatient now, tired of waiting. you had tortured him long enough with those pretty noises; it was time you paid him back for tolerating your horniness.

“fuck,” jeno cursed upon feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock.

haechan snickered. it was amusing to him that only a few hours ago, jeno said he was insane for suggesting that they fuck you. and now here he was with his cock down your throat. a few hours could truly change a man, for worse and for better. “how’s it going?” haechan asked.

jeno closed his eyes, trying to go slow before he started fucking your throat with a purpose. he didn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but damn, he was getting pretty damn close. “how do you think?” he retorted.

you watched jeno as he slowly moved inside your mouth, though his patience was obviously dwindling by the second. part of you wanted to see what it would look like when he lost it all, but the other dreaded it, uncertain whether or not you could handle it.

you were still a virgin, after all. in the important and unimportant ways. you had never been fucked. you had most certainly never had your throat fucked until this very moment. the furthest you’d ever gone with a boy was a little bit of groping while kissing and even that was awkward.

haechan licked his lips, appreciating that they were coated in your arousal. “taste so good, princess,” he said, dropping his hands down to his shorts.

you would have gawked when you glanced down and noticed the dent in them, even if it weren’t for the fact that your mouth was preoccupied. when did he get so hard? 

haechan started to undress himself, pleased now that he had gotten a taste of you and eager to be inside you. he was quick to shed his shorts and the layer underneath, unafraid to show just how desperate he was. for him, it was easy to accept his attraction to you and even easier to act on it now that he had your consent.

he climbed onto the bed, grabbing your thighs again and spreading them apart. he gave them a few affectionate, departing kisses and sat up to grab his cock, bringing it between them. “say ‘goofer gooner’ if you’re ready,” haechan joked, knowing you couldn’t speak.

you furrowed your brows, but you couldn’t even focus on his nonsense because jeno was noticeably forgoing all restraint. could you blame him? your mouth was warm, alive, and everything about you seemed to drive him straight through the brink of insanity. 

“you know, jeno,” haechan started, gazing down at the little distance between your bodies. “you were right. i’m already in the mood again.”

you had that effect on him, on them. haechan knew he probably should have fought it better, but he truly saw no point. it was easier to fold and surrender to the fact that he found you infuriatingly sexy, despite your tendencies. and with nothing more to say, he slowly but surely pressed himself inside you.

haechan tipped his head back, already moaning like a bitch and he wasn’t even fully sheathed inside you yet. “holy fuck,” he said, his grip on your thighs tightening.

you whimpered, the sound muffled by jeno’s cock as his balls slapped against your chin. you immediately pulsed around haechan’s cock, clinging to him like now that he was there, you would never let him go.

“holy fuck,” haechan moaned again, stopping for a moment as if the breath had been completely sucked out of him. “so fucking wet, my dick just slides in.”

he was damn near flabbergasted. maybe there was benefit to you gooning for hours on end, a benefit that he got to reap. he had never seen anyone this wet before, much less felt anything this wet, and it was taking a toll on him. his head was already reeling.

“okay,” haechan said, more so to himself. he was adjusting. “okay. fuck. i’m gonna move.”

and he did, growing more and more mesmerized with every thrust of his hips. his mouth hung open, moans of your name and explicit curses dangling from his lips with a shrill touch to them that only made you even more aroused.

to say nothing of the sounds jeno was making, almost directly in your ear. he was so close to your face that you could explode. he was finally moving comfortably, fucking your throat with a rhythm that almost made it hard to breathe. 

though you had no intention of making him stop. you had fantasized about making yourself available for this purpose many, many times. not necessarily to your stepbrother, but well, it wasn’t like you were discriminating. especially not when he sounded so goddamn sexy and his face was tensing the way it was in pleasure.

it was strange, but you found yourself going from solely craving the experience to wanting to pleasure them. and it would appear that you were doing a fantastic job without hardly even trying, all things considered.

haechan was gripping on your thighs for dear life as if without the support, he would get blown away into the eighth dimension. or maybe drown in how wet you were, gushing around his cock, if not for him using your soft thighs as an anchor to keep him afloat.

“this sweet fucking pussy,” he sighed, losing himself in the vice of you. he had set a pace too, fucking you without intention of stopping. with every fiber of his being, deep and hard. “i could fuck you forever.”

you could sit here and take it forever. you had never felt so full in your life. your fingers hardly did the job, always reaching just shy of where you needed them instead of completely offering you the satisfaction you’d long craved. and here haechan was handing it to you on a silver platter.

the only problem was that you felt slightly overwhelmed with so much happening at one time in two different holes. you didn’t know who to pay attention to; jeno fucking your throat with a vengeance, eager to gain something out of your mouth for once, or haechan railing you to kingdom come, making you feel hot everywhere.

you found yourself trying to juggle both, eyes flitting between them, moaning around jeno’s dick at haechan’s angled thrusts and throbbing around haechan at every guttural groan that slipped from jeno’s mouth. you couldn’t help yourself; it was too goddamn arousing.

jeno noticed how fucked out you looked, eyes rolling back to another timeline, and it was doing unimaginable things to his cock. you looked better than he could have ever imagined and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he left you hoarse and rasping.

with that thought, he grabbed your hair to push you down and started to fuck your head against the mattress rather roughly, which caught you by surprise. you tried to take it, you really did, but it was overwhelming. you could barely breathe.

“take it,” he hissed, holding your head in place. you looked pretty like this, struggling to keep up with his hectic movements.

your eyes were watering as his cock went too deep for you to handle, and you started gagging. jeno moaned, but pulled your head off him to let you relax for a second, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and the head of his cock.

“breathe,” he said, letting one hand run through your hair almost tenderly.

you nodded, willing yourself to relax. all the while, jeno marveled at how pretty you looked with saliva on your face and tears strolling down your cheeks.

“you guys okay up there?” haechan asked from between your legs, having noticed the action. 

“we’re fine,” jeno answered on your behalf. he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “you ready?”

you nodded your head. you couldn’t shake the urge to really make him proud, to satisfy all his inappropriate cravings. it was the least you could do when you had been tantalizing him for months on end.

“good girl,” jeno whispered, guiding his cock back to your mouth and this time using your hair to push your head onto his cock as he fucked your throat.

you moaned at the pet name, because something about the way it sounded coming from him made your head spin. maybe you were just horny and in dire need of a fuck like he’d said. maybe after you came, all of these feelings would wear off, and you would feel somewhat sane again. 

but you couldn’t deny that you were somewhat indulging in your fantasies here. you didn’t necessarily hate the the way jeno was treating you, even if it was a little beyond your limits and more than a little rough. but limits were just boundaries you’d yet explored.

haechan was a different situation altogether. your pussy was still sensitive from the hours of playing with it and you were already about to come much before him. there was a familiar heat in your stomach and festering throb of energy in your core, only more intense than you had ever experienced.

but haechan recognized it, even without being able to hear your sweet moans of his name. he could see it in your body language and it flattered him in a way; he always felt proud when he lasted longer than the person he was fucking, especially without necessarily even trying to finish them quicker.

“she’s gonna come,” haechan pointed out, grinning. “come for me, princess. come on this dick. you know you want to.”

it was like he your voodoo doll or something, because merely seconds after those words parted from his mouth, you were shuddering and tightening around his cock with climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes clenching.

haechan let out the pitchiest moan ever when you throbbed around him repeatedly. words could not describe how good it felt, but sounds could. and the sounds he was making were sensational, only contributing to the mind-numbing pleasure wrecking you from within.

“goddamn,” haechan said, mesmerized by how hard you came. it was probably warranted after hours of resisting.

but the other thing on haechan’s mind was how much wetter your pussy sounded, sticky with your release. he whined, literally going mad. he knew that his own orgasm wasn’t far out and just the squelch of your cunt could easily finish him off.

jeno was facing a similar predicament, fucking your mouth without restraint and not letting you escape his thrusts. “fuck, i’m gonna come,” he groaned. “swallow it. or don’t. it’s your sheets.”

the last thing you of all people cared about was having your sheets ruined. at the moment, you were more burdened with how sore your throat felt and how overstimulated your pussy was being fucked despite having already orgasmed. it literally felt like you’d had the soul fucked out of you.

you didn’t even know it was possible at this point, but jeno’s hips went faster. it was a brutal but steady pace, which was somewhat admirable. he was trying to get himself there, right over the edge, knowing release was only seconds away.

with a few more smacks, jeno released down your throat with the sexiest groan you’d heard, one that claimed every award. when you’d milked him of every drop, his hands tight on the sides of your face, his grip on your head slacked and he slowly pulled your mouth off him.

you swallowed what you could, but he had came so goddamn much at once, it was borderline ridiculous. what you couldn’t take dripped down your chin, blending with the saliva from the messy fucking.

haechan glanced up at you and the sight of your cum-stained face triggered something so primal in him that he knew he wasn’t going to last another minute. “princess, where do you want me to come?” he asked breathlessly.

“inside,” you replied with maybe half your voice, if even. it hurt to speak. the sound pleased jeno.

the thought of coming inside your pussy had haechan levitating and was the last push he needed to bring himself past the cusp of ecstasy. his hips stuttered as he came inside you, crying out half of your name, leaning on top of you as he buried his load inside your warm, wet, gushing, sticky hole.

a satisfied hum escaped you when you felt his cum seeping inside your pussy. why did it feel so good?

“d-don’t move yet,” you whispered, because it was all you could muster.

haechan glanced up at you, recognizing the look of pleasure on your face. if he had the energy, he would tease you about how you wanted to feel him cum inside you, but he needed to catch his breath. so he answered with a nod.

jeno whistled. this had gone better than he’d hoped. “well goddamn. you’re just a virgin slut aren’t you?”

haechan chuckled breathlessly. “she took that shit like a champ. i’m impressed.”

jeno kissed your forehead. “you did so good,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water in a second.”

you nodded, appreciating the tender side after all that had just happened. your heart felt a little lighter than usual, despite its racing. you had so many questions, but you didn’t want to strain your voice. was it normal to feel like a different person after having sex for the first time?

haechan was going to pull out, but seeing the look on your face, he decided to stay nestled inside you for a little longer. “you okay?”

you bobbed your head. “i’m good.”

haechan snickered and teased, “whoa there, batman. what have you done with my sister?”

you rolled your eyes, but giggled. jeno joined in on the laughter, but he added, “don’t speak. you’ll make it worse.”

haechan sighed contentedly. knowing that you wouldn’t say anything in response, he decided to tease, “our little gooner.”

you glared at haechan wordlessly, conveying a lot of different things with your eyes. 

jeno translated playfully, “i think that means ‘fuck you.’”

“again?” haechan joked. “what can i expect from a gooner. but hey, i guess girls can goon too.”

[bcksbarnes]

have i found you?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: you and bucky are in the beginning stages of your relationship and get caught in a rainstorm

word count: 2.1K

The early stages of dating were always the most nerve wracking, and for Bucky who hadn’t done any ounce of it in the last 80 years, it’s even more so. When you came into his life it felt like something had finally clicked into place again, like the world got a bit brighter, the fog that was there was starting to lift. 

Now the problem he was having was translating those feelings into words. Sure, you understood that he was more of a shower not a teller, but Bucky wanted to push those boundaries for you. His therapist told him that part of growing is doing things that would make him uncomfortable; he never wanted to switch therapists faster in his life. 

But, he knew she was right.

You and Bucky had decided to take things slow, even if there was no formal conversation stating that, both of you knew that it would be better in the long run to not rush into anything. You didn’t need him to open up about his past to get the idea of what had happened, you knew of his time as the Winter Soldier, there was no need to go into details so early on.

So most of your nights together were spent learning the song and dance of this new relationship, or whatever this was. 

Despite his quiet nature, Bucky was anything but a homebody. Sitting still didn’t mix well with the instinct to always be on the run, and being alone meant that the thoughts that flooded his brain couldn’t be tuned out. No, Bucky needed some background noise, not overstimulating, but the chatter of the people or the sound of cars passing by him to drown out the thoughts as best he could. For those reasons alone, he tried to take you out as much as possible.

Your favorite thing to do together was to walk over the bridge from Manhattan and into Brooklyn, despite being terrified of how high up you were, Bucky couldn’t imagine a better way to spend time together. It was intimate yet you were still surrounded by people. The views were stunning, and it always gave him an excuse to stop by his old neighborhood. Even if so much had changed in the decades since he had lived there, he loved the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when he got to show you his home. 

“It must be hard to come back,” you said to him one night as the two of you finished crossing the bridge, making the turn toward Bucky’s old building.

His free hand was intertwined with yours, keeping you close to his side, as his metal one came up to rub at the back of his neck. You had a habit of seeing right through him.

“It can be,” he says, honestly. “Everyone I know has passed away, and Steve doesn’t like to visit here anymore, so it can be a little lonely.”

He doesn’t mention that you being there with him makes it feel less terrifying. His heart doesn’t sink as low as it used to, he doesn’t get choked up thinking of all he’s lost. No, instead he just squeezes your hand, needing to know that you’re right there next to him.

Neither of you say anything when you pass his home, his expression is somber as he watches the family that lives there now in the window. It was different, new. He didn’t hate it, how could he hate such happiness? But sometimes he felt envious of the people who were able to continue on with their lives.

“I used to sit on that stoop and wait for Steve to come over,” he said as the two of you started walking again. “I used to tell him that I’d just go to his place because he had asthma, the kid couldn’t run for shit.” Bucky smirked as he thought back on the memory. “But he’d always tell me Buck, I’ll be at your house. 3pm sharp. Not a second later . He’d be wheezing his ass off but he was never late.”

The two of you laugh together at the thought, Steve was once such a fragile being compared to how you knew him. That was the Steve who was a brother to Bucky.

Bucky didn’t know how to explain that he hasn’t felt happiness since then, it was starting to get a little easier to smile and enjoy his life; but true happiness? Jeez, he can’t even remember.

“You two seemed like you probably got into a lot of trouble.” You teased, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. 

“Yeah, we did. Steve really was just along for the ride, I was usually the one up to something.” There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t seem to wipe off as the two of you walk, turning onto the block of where his new apartment was. “One time I managed to get the fire hydrant opened when it was the middle of July, they wouldn't come to open the one on our block for some reason. Flooded the whole street within seconds.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “Steve tried to take the blame, as if anyone would believe that.”

“I bet you guys didn’t care if it was flooded.”

“Not even a bit. I’d never been to a beach before so this was the only water I was around, we’d get a bunch of kids on the block, run around like it was the best damn time of our lives.”

It hits you square in the chest how much had been taken from him over this lifetime, and it was this moment where you made a promise to yourself that wherever this went between the two of you - you’d never let him look back and regret it.

“Hope that wasn’t too sentimental for you.” Bucky teased as his eyes trained over to you.

“No, no,” you reassure him with a smile when you meet his gaze. “I could listen to those stories all day. I like seeing how happy they make you.”

His chest bloomed with his feelings for you, it was moments like this where his tongue felt heavy in his mouth because he wanted to just spill his guts out to you and tell you everything on his mind. But, he still felt so lost. 

As the two of you get closer to his building, you notice the once blue sky starting to turn a dark grey - not the same kind as when the sunset, but when the heavens felt like they were going to open up. The air had shifted to something more still, less humid and with the few splats of drops that started to scatter around you, both you and Bucky knew that you only had a few minutes to get to his place.

“Let’s go,” Bucky said. 

His hand tightened around yours as the two of you began to jog, trying to make it back in time. You were only about a block away before it started to come down, really come down. Puddles started to form rapidly, each time you and Bucky stepped into one it exacerbated how your already wet clothes clung to your bodies. A sigh of relief leaving his lips as he saw the door to his building was only a few steps away.

Bucky’s hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket to grab his keys, the water getting into his eyes as he looked down. But, unexpectedly, the moment struck you. It was poetic in a way that this man standing next to you needed to live a new life, he needed to breathe. Really breathe.

You don’t say anything as you turn away from him, walking towards the end of the sidewalk. The rain was coming down too hard for anyone to drive in, so you ran into the middle of the street. 

“Wha-?”

Bucky’s eyes were wide as he turned to look over his shoulder, watching you carefully. You stood with your head back tilted towards the sky, letting the rain cover you, cleanse you. Stepping away from the door, Bucky walked towards you, calling your name over the rain falling. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, his hand moving to smooth over his wet locks. 

“I’m having the best damn time of my life!” You called back, your heart fluttering as you watched him. “Join me!”

If Bucky didn’t want you before, he definitely did now. His heart stammered in his chest as your words hit his ears, registering in his head. There was a moment of hesitation before he moved, not because he didn’t want to join you, but because you looked absolutely ethereal. Angels would weep from the beauty in front of him, maybe that’s why it was raining. 

“You’re crazy!” Bucky yells as he steps into the street, only taking a few strides until he’s in front of you.

The smile on your face can’t be wiped off now as you grab his hand and start running up and down the street together, like he used to do when he was a kid. Bucky can’t believe his life had come full circle, and he can’t believe how hard he’s smiling, how much fun he’s having. It’s like you had planted a seed in his heart and it was now blossoming right out of his chest.

“It’s fun!” You called out to him as the two of you let go of each other’s hands, Bucky’s fingers slipping out of yours as you ran ahead of him, leaving him in his place. “I want you to have fun!”

The world was spinning and rain didn’t let up. Bucky was having such a good time watching you he didn’t even care how cold it felt on his skin, or how his metal arm tightened a bit when wet. No, there were no thoughts in his head that didn’t consist of you.

You’re standing right in the middle of the block again, Bucky’s a little ways away from you with his hands on his hips. Is this what it felt like to be free? He watched your frame, the way you weren’t afraid to take up space in this world, to let everyone know you were happy.

Why should he hold back too?

He cupped his hands over the sides of his mouth as he called your name once more, getting your attention as the two of your gazes met. His smile widened and his heart fluttered, the need to tell you everything flooding him the way this rain flooded the streets. Bucky had jogged over to you in an instant, his hands moving to cup your cheeks as he looked down at you.

“I like you,” He says loudly so you can hear it.

“What?” You call out to him; you heard him the first time, you just wanted to hear him say it again. 

“I said I like you!” He calls back out. “I like you so much. I think about you all the time. I don’t think I knew what living was before I met you.”

Bucky doesn’t care that your hair is wet and swept over your face, he doesn’t care that both of you are slightly shivering now. He doesn’t care that he feels lighter now that he’s vocalized his feelings to you. All he cares about is that damn smile on your face, the way you grab the front of his wet shirt to pull him in closer, and the way your hearts seem to beat in sync.

The world seemed to stop as he brought his lips down to yours. Your arms snake up to wrap around his neck, and he keeps a firm grasp on your cheek as the two of you let your lips take control of the moment. It’s soft yet deeply intimate, feeling him nip at your bottom lip a few times. Bucky Barnes was completely intoxicated by you.

And as the rain began to slow down, the world seemed to come back to life after the shower, and all you could do was slightly pull away from him, your lips still brushing against one anothers. Bucky couldn’t help but chase your lips, needing a few more kisses from you at that moment.

“I like you too, Buck,” You whispered against his lips. “More than you know.”

Your hands slide up to wipe his hair off his damp forehead, your eyes now catching his bright blues. He chuckled quietly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as goosebumps ran down his flesh arm.

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Is that a promise?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed the side of his neck as you pulled him in for a few more sweet kisses. “That’s a promise.”

And as the two of you moved inside to finally dry off, Bucky knew his life had truly just begun.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

[helaintoloki]

Can I request something with Five Hargreeves where Five and Lilia gets back to their family after the 7 years (nothing romantic happened between them, just purely platonic), and when he sees the reader for the first time after almost loosing so much hope in seeing her again, he just can’t help but latch onto her and never let go, kissing her all over cause he finally gets to see the love of his life again :,D

a/n: ty for sending in this request anon i really enjoyed writing it <3 this is basically the “good ending” of the subway incident

warnings: fluff, mentions of five and lila but in a platonic way not the bad way

His lungs feel like they’re on fire as Five pushes himself to continue his sprint to your apartment. It’s been seven years without you, and after almost losing hope of ever seeing you again, all he wanted now was to have you in his arms as proof that he truly was back in his own timeline.

He never should have listened to Lila when she insisted on traveling the subway system in search of a solution to the Cleanse, but he had been desperate to find a way to keep you and his family safe no matter the cost. He didn’t mind having to eat subway rats and sleep in flimsily sleeping bags on dirty platforms for your sake, but with no end in sight the entire thing began to seem futile. What good was putting himself through torture if he could never go back home to you?

Thus, when he found the journal that detailed the way back home, Five did not hesitate to jump on the next subway car and return back to his own timeline. He didn’t feel sorry for practically shoving Lila out of the way as soon as the doors opened, and he didn’t waste a second waiting for her to follow before he was booking it out of the station and down the streets to your apartment. While it would have been faster to just jump there, he didn’t want to risk accidentally placing himself right back where he started, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for Lila to find a car and drop him off herself. Seeing you could not wait, and so he ran.

Though Five has experienced seven painful years of being stuck with Lila in the subway, only four hours have passed since you last spoke to him on the phone to discuss your evening plans. He was meant to be at your apartment thirty minutes ago so you could enjoy a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant, and yet here you were sitting painfully board at your kitchen island watching the minutes tick by. You knew he wasn’t exactly keen on eating out when he’d rather stay at home and spend quality time with you, but surely he wouldn’t stoop so low as to miss your date entirely.

“Screw this,” you huff in indigence as you snatch your keys from the counter and grab your previously discarded purse from its spot on the couch. “He’ll just have to meet me there.”

After putting on your coat, you fling the door open only to met with the sight of a breathless Five, his fist raised in the air as if he was about to knock before you beat him to it. He looks completely disheveled with his mussed up hair and wrinkled suit, his eyes blown wide as he swallows down a big gulp of air and takes in your features. You look more beautiful than he ever thought possible, and he can’t believe that he’s really here standing in front of you after being trapped in a time travel hellscape for seven years with his idiot brother’s idiot wife.

“Five?” You utter gently, brows furrowed in confusion and concern as you reach out to place a gentle hand upon his cheek. He’s warm to the touch, most likely a side effect from having sprinted for three blocks, but it worries you nonetheless. He nearly melts into your palm as his eyes flutter shut in contentment at the feel of your skin against his own. He’s missed this, and he’s missed you. “Where have you been, I was just about to leave without you. You okay?”

You jump at his sudden movement when Five practically throws himself into your arms. You lose your footing and tumble back into your apartment, and it takes you a moment to process what’s happening before you tightly return the embrace. You know Five loves you, but he’s never been so forward with affection like this, so his behavior takes you by surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better,” he breathes out in relief as he takes in your warmth and your smell and your touch and everything good about you. He never thought he could miss anyone as much as he missed you, and Five swore in that moment he’d never take you for granted again.

“Are you sure you’re really my Five and not a total stranger?” You question teasingly, poking fun at his uncharacteristically tender behavior. While normally you would be met with a biting and sarcastic response in return, you are instead given a passionate kiss as he cups your face in his hands and desperately pulls you closer to him. Your startled gasp is swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes you further into the apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

“Five,” you manage to breathe out after he pulls away for air, your face hot and your mind frazzled as you struggle to comprehend the sequence of events that have just occurred. “Five, we’re going to be late.”

“I couldn’t care less,” he replies with a faint smile, reaching out to carefully tuck your hair behind your ear. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeat in confusion. “You saw me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll explain everything in time,” he assures you carefully, “but right now I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

With a faint smile gracing your lips, you know you can’t argue with that. You probably will miss your dinner reservations, but none of that matters as Five pulls you in close and showers you with seven years worth of pent-up affection.

You could really get used to this side of him.

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, suguru/reader, codependency, manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics (on all sides)

suguru knew something was going on between satoru and you.

the gojo twins, never far from each other's sides. always the first thing anyone saw when they walked into the room. ethereal beauties, not of this plane, cut from some divine cloth mortals like him couldn't hope to understand.

the connection was obvious, blatant, everyone could tell you were close siblings. but there was something more.

like a shift just in the corner of his vision, disappearing as soon as he focused on it. something in satoru's eyes when he looked at you. something in your voice when you said his name.

he knew it was probably sexual. there was some unhealthy attachment.

but how was he to know, really? who knows what your lives were like growing up. suguru was born a non-sorcerer, to regular parents.

satoru never spoke about his.

you were less cagey (or rather just outright dismissive) but everything he'd heard from you made him feel... ugly.

he likes it. hearing that satoru has no one back there for him. no one close to him but suguru (and you). that he grew up lonely, touch-starved, and with a propensity to cling to the one person close to him like a comfort object.

suguru doesn't quite know how to feel about you. on one hand, he wishes he could have been there with younger satoru. grown with him, embedded his roots deep in his fickle heart.

on the other, who would satoru have even been without you? would he have held himself untouchable, impervious to the entire human condition? would he have let suguru hold him, kiss him? would he have kissed back?

there's a part of him that despises you for being so close to the boy he's so madly in love with. even if satoru was hurting you even more.

it had fallen suspiciously silent when you'd offered suguru a fuck. it had nothing to say in the days afterwards, either, when suguru had fisted his cock to thoughts of satoru, and his mind had slipped between white-haired, blue-eyed beauties with androgynous features and trembling gasps.

satoru fucks him again - a couple times - and suguru calls him gojo while they're fucking, watches his stupid pretty eyes crease in confusion.

he doesn't stay, after. never stays. and he knows why. satoru can't sleep without you. his personal safety blanket.

suguru wonders, with a perverse excitement, if he can get you to fuck him again. the thought makes him throb. he tells himself it's because he thinks it'll hurt satoru.

you certainly seemed to enjoy it. could he get you to stay? you're more tender-hearted than satoru. you probably feel bad about using suguru to hurt him.

how would satoru feel? his precious twin sister, gone from whichever bed you were sharing? his security pillow stolen away? only to find you in the arms of the boy who he thought he had on a leash?

it seems, unfortunately, that he's been beaten to the punch.

satoru had to have left the door cracked on purpose. it's laughably obvious.

deep down, suguru had known something was wrong when satoru specifically asked him to come over.

satoru's never asked for what he wanted. he'd say "i want ice cream", or "burgers sound so good right now" or even just "i'm going to the ramen shop".

satoru gojo doesn't ask. he doesn't make requests. that would imply that he had some concept of being denied.

he would never stoop so low as to actually say he wants to hang out, confess to wanting suguru's company. doesn't say "suguru, come over to my room! i have something to show you ;)"

no, if satoru actually wanted to see him, he'd just text suguru - i'm bored.

he would never subject himself to the indignity of acknowledging he wanted something from someone else. no, the boy-god of jujutsu society would merely blurt out whatever he wanted, and the world would hand him everything on a silver platter.

and so would suguru. if satoru even hinted he wanted his heart, he'd rip it out of his chest, bare all his vulnerable, softest feelings to satoru's tender mercies. just for the chance of reciprocation.

it's not the power of the six eyes, but the vast beauty contained within it, that sparkle and the accompanying grin, satoru's chiming voice in all its insufferable, annoying delight -

suguru is helpless before him.

and by the looks of it, so are you.

you're underneath him. completely bare. satoru towers over you, equally exposed, all sculpted flesh and unearthly beauty.

that's what the both of you are, really. the most attractive people he's ever seen twined up in one another, long lean limbs and fairy white hair.

you could be supermodels. you could be porn stars. a pair of angels making love. divine perfection, perverted and distorted as your brother thrusts his cock inside you.

suguru nearly flinches back when satoru's head flicks up, six eyes searching. locking onto him.

this was intentional. satoru wants him to see this.

he's pumping in and out of you, petting your hair and kissing your forehead and making his little moans while he fucks you so hard and fast that all you make are short, high-pitched whimpers, just loud enough for him to hear.

it sounds almost painful. it might be on purpose.

or maybe it's not. he doesn't know if satoru can even tell, he doesn't look at you at all. he just stares.

stares at him with those blue blue eyes. fierce, feverish. licks his lips, all pretty and pink.

he's felt them on his mouth. on his cock. all over him. satoru's a greedy boy, after all. ravenous.

his cock throbs against his pants.

glancing over, suguru looks at you - an absolute vision. just like before.

he can't tell, could never tell anymore, if it's just your striking resemblance to the beautiful boy he loves, or if he would have wanted you on your own, without meeting satoru.

it makes him hard just like satoru's stare does, the six eyed prodigy of all jujutsu staring at him like he's waiting for a response. it made him hard that you fucked him just to fuck with satoru.

that you felt bad about it, but did it anyways. that you, just like satoru, went all soft and vulnerable and tacky under his touchy hands, a needy thing down to your core.

but unlike satoru, you didn't wear that need like a crown. like being wanted by you was a gift that suguru should be gracious to receive.

you looked at him, those big blue eyes and pretty gojo face painted in timid anxiety, like you were just waiting for him to turn you away and ask for your brother.

it was intoxicating. instead of sharp edges that he'd cut himself touching, you were soft, yielding, bearing his weight and bruising under it without complaint.

suguru doesn't need to follow the gaze of satoru's eyes to know how tight he is in his pants. he takes a step forward - and another -

and he doesn't need permission, either, does he? satoru had told him to come to this room.

one hand on the doorframe, he pulls himself out. it's hard, and nearly purple, springing forward into his command. satoru's eyes go wide, his thrusts fast, sloppy.

he's so hard it hurts. like the little croaks you make when satoru sinks all the way in, so hard and so deep he must be hitting your cervix.

distantly, suguru wonders if you're enjoying it at all. your eyes are winced tight under the force. he can't see satoru touching you down there, either.

his hand is around his cock, stroking it, throbbing, as he strides forward, only a couple steps away from satoru - close enough to touch.

suguru looks at you, and then at him. satoru's finally looking away now, six eyes feverish and darting back and forth between you and him like he can't pick what's turning him on more: fucking his sister or having his best friend jerk off to the sight.

your eyes flutter open, pretty white lashes on your flushed cheeks as you stare up at satoru with tears in your eyes.

desperate for his love as suguru is. closer to him than suguru will ever be. you have his face, his name. he's inside you right now.

and it's written on your face, it hurts. just like suguru, this isn't enough for you.

throb. throb. it's killing him. it's so fucked up, and he's never been more turned on in his entire life. his heart lunches at the sight of you, empathy, longing, accompanied by a heady hunger.

a veritable rush of adrenaline surges at the revelation that he wants you, badly. he wants you and he wants satoru and he wants you both to fuck each other -

it coats his hand, wet, viscous, sticky. he cums watching you, watching satoru.

"satoru," he recognizes your voice. the look on his face when he cums, all rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed.

suguru recognizes that he came... and you hadn't.

satoru murmurs your name, lazy, post-orgasmic. suguru's not sure he even knows.

he collapses on you, all six foot something of his lean form flopping onto your smaller body until you groan in protest and he shifts to the side.

you sigh, and it's a weary noise, air leaving you as you turn your head to the side.

then he's treated to the sight of your shock, your eyes widening, hands darting up to fruitlessly cover your chest as you flush hard - oh, you poor, bashful thing. satoru knew no shame.

so like, and yet so different. suguru takes another step, right next to you now.

satoru looks up at him in slitted, half-open eyes. six eyes accusing, but suguru's spent long hours deep into the night weighing satoru's sins against him, and they number far greater than six.

instead, he looks at you. the darker blue eyes, just the two, blinking up at him wide-eyed and vulnerable like you don't know what to say.

suguru smiles at you.

he holds out his hand, still covered in his own spend. brings it to your lips.

you meet his gaze, silent understanding passing between you.

the warm, wet cavern of your mouth opens up to accept him. tongue running over his fingers. lips closing, sucking.

oh, you know. you know. for all your vulnerability, all your anxiety and shyness and obvious desire to be loved... you know when you want to hurt someone. you even know what to do.

satoru watches it happen half in shock. wordless.

this, suguru thinks, is what he must love you for. the ability to know in an instant what someone wants and why they want it. why you should want it, too.

"there's a good girl," he coos, stepping closer so his cock is level with your face. "clean me up."

there's an arm that lurches forward to wrap around you, but suguru is faster dragging his cock into your mouth.

satoru is half-sat up behind you, clinging to you with both hands, face blanched. mouth dropped open.

the thought strikes suguru that satoru might literally pull you off his cock, and he finds himself getting hard again.

before it can happen, you pull off yourself. licking your lips.

a chuckle. he tucks himself back in, "a show, and a cleanup service? you spoil me, satoru," he says, speaking to him for the first time.

then suguru turns his attention right back to you. grin gleaming.

"you almost made me hard again, you know," he says, leaning in conspiratorially, "you've always been so sweet. my favorite gojo."

that is what satoru objects to, of course.

"fuck off, suguru." he snaps, pulling you back and into his arms.

your face isn't the ravished ingenue from earlier. resentment gleans in your eyes, dissatisfaction - he can hardly blame you. you didn't even get off.

"want me to do it for you?" suguru poses, casually, "that's what you invited me here for, right? to get her off?"

satoru again looks utterly shocked. "what do you mean? i can get her off again if she wants," he yanks his dick up, still wet with your slick, half-mast, and tugs you to face him, "i can go again. you don't need him."

it's a little funny to watch. a laugh bubbles through his chest, and he doesn't feel any particular desire to contain it.

"is that what you think?"

satoru doesn't look at him. he scowls at you. "i said i can go again. tell him off."

because satoru can't ask him to leave. can't ask you if suguru is right. he says what he wants, and the world is handed to him -

"sure, suguru. i wouldn't mind that."

satoru's never seen you like this before.

you're his sister. he's slept with you every single night of your life. every night of his life.

he spent years eating meals, going to classes, even bathing with you right next to him until the maids finally separated you. said it was inappropriate.

you and him were naked together in the womb. that was how your life started, and his. your natural state. they were the ones messing it up.

but he lived with it, as long as he could sneak into your bed to sleep at night.

satoru has seen you sick. he's seen you miserable. he's seen you sad, and rarely, angry. he's seen you happy and excited and in the midst of bliss -

or at least, he thought he had, before he watched suguru bounce you up and down on his cock.

he's sitting on the bed as you straddle him. hands on your hips as he helps you rise up and fall back down. kissing delicately at your neck and murmuring things satoru can't hear into your ears.

there's a pink dusting on your cheeks, and it isn't from him watching.

it's unacceptable, but when he moves him, suguru smacks his hand away, like he's a child reaching into a cookie jar.

"take care of yourself," he says breezily, "like i did. this is for her, now."

the look in suguru's eyes, accusing him of some crime he can't have committed, the way your eyes dart towards him and flick away before he can stare you down -

he's leaking. just a little.

satoru is hard, dripping, and his two favorite people in the world are right in front of him. and neither of you is helping him.

"what the hell," he whines, staring at you like you're some animal in the zoo, "she already came. i'm hard! and i'm the one who invited you!"

"says who," suguru shoots back smoothly. satoru watches him meet your eyes, and you don't turn away from his gaze, "you weren't the only gojo who invited me tonight."

it's a lie, of course. you'd never willingly share satoru - on that, suguru thinks he might agree.

but he also knows, as you do, that it was never up to either of you.

"what?!" satoru, ever the pretty fool, looks at you with raw betrayal, "what the hell?"

the realization sinks in over instants.

seconds that suguru gets to relish being buried inside you, how your walls close around him slick and burning, how it makes him throb.

satoru's hand wanders to his cock, squeezing himself to the thought of you inviting suguru over to watch you fuck him. that you're just as jealous and petty as he is.

he's so fucking handsome, satoru almost can't blame you. long dark hair sweat-slicked, his sharp features tightening as he closes in on his release.

he almost can't blame you for letting suguru make you cum and not him. suguru makes him cum, too, after all, makes him just as hard as you do.

it doesn't stop the sting, teeth grit in envy. he wants to reach out and touch but it doesn't feel right. he doesn't feel welcome for once, wanted, with the two of you all tied up in each other. his guts twist up even as the pleasure burns through them.

it hurts. it hurts so fucking much to watch you moan and gasp, nails digging into suguru's back, but you don't claw at him - you cling for dear life.

he's never heard you make these noises. you never rode him like this.

you've half-forgotten satoru is here.

sure, suguru, you'd said in pure spite and frustration. casual, like how satoru always is.

suguru knew how to make you cum, and he was offering. why not take him up? satoru hadn't asked you before inviting him. hadn't asked you before fucking him, either, because you're his sister, not his girlfriend, even though he sleeps with you every night like you're his fucking security blanket and fucks you all the time -

and suguru's thumb is rubbing over your clit, dragging you to the edge.

he's laying tender kisses on your neck, nipping and sucking while he rolls his hips up into you, helping you as you ride him.

tightness gathers in your core as you clutch at him, stare into those dark violet eyes.

there's anger there, and spite, and so much that you recognize; why doesn't he want me, am i not enough, does he like someone else better.

you want to flinch away, but he just presses his lips to yours and licks carefully into your mouth, like you're something he wants to savor. like you're something he wants at all.

he's so hard inside you. he must want you, or want to fuck you, or maybe just want satoru jealous. you've always been his shadow, just an extension of him, so maybe to suguru this is just like fucking satoru with the added bonus of jealousy.

he throbs again while he kisses, you, while he pulls back and you feel more than hear his whisper, "he's watching," because that's what matters most -

you bite down on his lip, and feel him spill inside you.

"you're so good," suguru's eyes glitter, locked onto you, "feel so good. perfect. tell me i make you feel good, too."

"suguru-"

he grasps your hip with one hand to thrust in at just the right angle, rubbing quick, pressing circles into your clit as the knot in your belly unravels and you whimper, helplessly, in release.

you know in your heart, you know, all his words are falsehoods, but suguru's praise drips over you like honey as he nurses you through your climax. kisses sweet and sticky. eyes on you, pretty, purple, piercing in a way that satoru's have never been.

it makes you feel vulnerable, unguarded. seen.

it's a moment or two, before you hear him over the pounding of your heart, your heavy breaths in the climax.

when you do hear him, you hear what he's saying that has satoru gripping the sheets, his own spent cock in anger.

suguru isn't saying satoru's name, or gojo -

he's saying yours.

[missmanlykink]

perv!nerdmin x reader ✿.

warning; armin is bit of a creep!, college au, dub-con ish (very ish)

MDNI - 18+ | navigation - m.list - taglist 𝜗୧ | COME TO MY 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 (100 followers celebration!)

this was your last hope. finals were coming up and you were doing very poorly in school, the only way you could fix your situation was with studying and actually putting in work, or sleeping with your professor—but you’re not gonna stoop that low.

but you needed some type of help. and you knew the perfect person for the job. even though he wouldn’t have been first choice there was no other option. armin was a friend of yours. well…not really a friend. you knew him through mutual friends and you’d be at the same functions a lot.

and at these said functions you’d always catch him staring down your top or ogling your ass before you would turn around to look in his direction. one thing he’d do a lot was play with that stupid piercing that was through his tongue. it did annoy you but unfortunately it turned you on a little bit.

you walked across campus to get to his dorm. you felt embarrassed that you had to ask him for his help. not that you had a massive ego or anything but you seriously didn’t want to admit your stupidity to the nerdiest boy you know.

you knocked on his dorm a couple of times before he opened it in no time. and yes, needless to say he was shocked that the girl he’s been into for a while has shown up to his dorm. he let out the most pathetic “hi…” you’ve ever heard. even if it was a tad bit cute

“hi, armin. can i come in?” you did not have to tell him twice. he immediately opened the door, stepping out of the way. you knew he wasn’t going to say something anytime soon so you decided to speak up. “i really don’t wanna say this but, i need your help.” his eyes lighted up. help? with what? when you said you needed tutoring he was a bit let down.

why? you don’t know. but what he said next genuinely shocked you. “yea i can help you, but how much are you willing to pay me?�� was he serious? you’re a broke college student who is about to flunk out and he’s talking about payment. and that’s what you said.

“well then i can’t help you…” he muttered, walking back to the door and opening it up again. with a look of get the fuck out on his face. you at least thought since you both knew the same people he would give you a favor.

but armin was being incredibly selfish about this. as soon as you asked him for help he had a sick plan. we he saw the shock on your face he assumed you’d be a little desperate, especially since you came here to ask him in the first place.

“but, i know another form of payment you could use…” he’s not talking about what you think he’s talking about right…? definitely not. you knew he was a perv, but not this pervy. you looked him dead in the eyes, bewildered almost. the things men do to get laid.

no judging but, yea, you took your top off in preparation. and yes he was extremely fucking weird and such a creep but…he was cute. and you’ve never fucked anyone with a tongue piercing before.

[thedensworld]

Adrenaline Rush | K. Mg

Genre: angst, established relationship, gangster au!, smut (18+)

Summary: Mingyu didn’t like to share, especially when it came to you—his lover. So when you left him, his thoughts were consumed with how he would punish you.

Warning: mention of violence, divorce, abuse, kidnap

Mingyu's ears perked the moment he caught Seungkwan mentioning your name. He immediately abandoned the stack of papers in front of him—those endless contracts or reports businessmen like him usually drowned in. None of it mattered now. Whenever it was about you, nothing else took precedence.

“We found her, hyung,” Seungkwan said, his voice laced with urgency.

Those words were all Mingyu needed. Without hesitation, he dismissed everyone around him with a wave of his hand, not caring for the startled looks on their faces. He stormed out, his long strides fueled by a single destination. A brothel. One of those dingy places frequented by lowly men seeking temporary escape. His jaw clenched as the thought sunk in—this is where you’d ended up? This is what you left him for?

The memory of you walking away from him all those years ago burned in his chest, but the thought of you stooping to such a life ignited something darker within him.

Mingyu chuckled, low and bitter, as he reached the establishment’s doorstep. You thought you could run from him? That you could escape the life you had with him? Foolish. He would never let you go again. Even if you screamed, even if you cursed him to hell and back, it wouldn’t matter.

You made mistakes, so many mistakes. And in his eyes, you deserved every ounce of punishment waiting for you now. From what he knew—and what you had proven in the past—being with him was punishment enough.

But this time, Mingyu vowed, it wouldn’t end the same way. You wouldn’t run again. Not now. Not ever.

At the heart of the dimly lit brothel, Mingyu met Jeonghan, the sharp-dressed owner of this lowly establishment. Jeonghan leaned against the bar, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of the towering businessman and his entourage. Mingyu wasted no time, motioning for Seungkwan, his ever-reliable right hand, to handle the introduction.

Seungkwan stepped forward, clearing his throat as he presented a photograph of you. "We’re looking for a girl named Y/n," he said, his voice calm yet firm.

Jeonghan glanced at the photo, his expression unreadable as he handed it back. He shook his head and smiled, his gaze drifting lazily to Mingyu. "We don’t do business with her. She’s exclusive," Jeonghan replied smoothly, his words laced with a challenge that made Mingyu’s jaw clench.

The tension in the air thickened. Seungkwan, ever the diplomat, opened his mouth to negotiate, but Mingyu cut him off with a voice that brooked no argument. "How much for her?"

Jeonghan’s smirk widened into a grin, sly and unbothered. "Now we’re talking about something I love—money," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. But then, with a dramatic sigh, he added, "Unfortunately for you, boss, she’s not for sale."

Mingyu mirrored Jeonghan’s grin, but his eyes held none of the humor. They wandered lazily around the room, taking in the lavishly decorated yet sordid interior. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled his men outside. Moments later, several burly figures with tattooed arms and intimidating glares entered, their presence immediately darkening the atmosphere. These weren’t just bodyguards—they were the kind of men who got their hands dirty for Mingyu without a second thought.

"I could burn this place to the ground in seconds," Mingyu said casually, his tone calm but laced with menace as his dark gaze settled on Jeonghan. He stepped closer, lowering his voice, the threat now unmistakable. "Now, tell me—she’s still not for sale?"

Jeonghan held his gaze for a long moment, the smirk never quite leaving his lips. He glanced between Mingyu and Seungkwan, weighing his options. Finally, he chuckled softly, raising a hand in mock surrender. "Follow me, gentlemen," he said, motioning them toward the back.

Jeonghan’s office was exactly what Mingyu had anticipated—classic and dimly lit, with dark wood furniture, leather chairs, and a faint aroma of cigar smoke lingering in the air. A single golden lamp illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the walls. Jeonghan motioned for Mingyu and Seungkwan to take a seat, but Mingyu remained standing, his imposing frame towering over the desk.

Jeonghan settled into his chair with a casual ease, folding his hands in front of him as he looked up at Mingyu with a bemused smile. "So," he began, his voice smooth, almost teasing, "what’s the story here? What’s she to you? A runaway lover? An unfaithful wife?"

Mingyu’s jaw tightened at the question, his eyes narrowing. "That’s none of your business," he replied coldly. "Just tell me where she is."

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "See, that’s the thing, boss. It is my business. Y/n is under my care now, and I don’t hand over my people to just anyone, especially when I don’t know their intentions."

Seungkwan, sensing the rising tension, stepped in. "We’re not here to cause trouble, Mr. Yoon. We’re simply here to take her back. My bosshas every right—"

"Every right?" Jeonghan interrupted, his gaze shifting sharply to Seungkwan before landing back on Mingyu. "Let me guess. She ran from you, didn’t she? And now you think you can just waltz in here, throw your weight around, and take her back like she’s some kind of lost property?"

Mingyu’s fists clenched at his sides, but his voice remained steady, albeit colder. "She belongs with me."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Does she? Funny, because from what I’ve seen, she seems to be doing just fine without you."

"Fine?" Mingyu scoffed, his voice rising slightly. "You call living in this—" he gestured around the room, though it was clear he was referring to the entire establishment—"fine? You think I’ll let her stay in a place like this?"

Jeonghan’s expression darkened, the playful edge to his demeanor fading. "And you think dragging her back to you is the better option? Tell me, why did she leave you in the first place? What kind of man drives a woman to run to a place like this?"

The words hit harder than Mingyu expected, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the desk, his towering presence now almost threatening. "I don’t need to explain myself to you," he growled. "She’s mine, and I’m taking her back."

Jeonghan met his glare head-on, unflinching. "Not if I have a say in it," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Y/n is under my protection now. I don’t care who you are or what you think you’re owed—if she doesn’t want to go with you, I’m not handing her over."

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats. Seungkwan shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two men. Mingyu’s patience was wearing thin, his temper barely contained.

"You don’t understand," Mingyu said, his voice low and deadly. "I’m not leaving without her. So, either you cooperate, or I’ll make you regret it."

Jeonghan smirked again, leaning forward slightly. "Is that a threat?"

"It’s a promise," Mingyu shot back, his tone icy.

For a moment, the two men stared each other down, the tension crackling like a live wire. Finally, Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, the smirk never quite leaving his face. "You’re persistent, I’ll give you that," he said. "But persistence doesn’t mean you’re right. If Y/n wants to leave, fine—I won’t stop her. But if she doesn’t…" He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Mingyu’s eyes burned with determination. He wasn’t going to let Jeonghan—or anyone else—stand in his way.

*

"Jeonghan is looking for you," Yumi called out as she stepped into the kitchen, where you were commanding the staff with practiced ease.

You turned your head, surprise flickering across your face. "Really? At this hour?" you asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t common for Jeonghan to summon you during the busiest time of the day.

Curiosity mingled with unease as you stepped out of the kitchen, hastily taking off your apron and brushing the flour dust from your blouse. Straightening your posture, you made your way to his office, your heart thudding louder with each step.

Pushing the door open, you froze at the sight inside. Seated comfortably on Jeonghan’s sleek leather couch were two faces you hadn’t seen in years but could never forget. Mingyu and Seungkwan. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air growing heavy as their presence stirred a whirlwind of emotions you’d long buried.

They had found you.

Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you stepped further into the room, willing your trembling hands to remain steady. You stopped near the desk and bowed your head politely, keeping your gaze firmly on the floor.

"Do you know them, Y/n?" Jeonghan’s voice broke through the tense silence, his tone casual but edged with curiosity.

You nodded slowly, clasping your hands behind your back to hide their shaking. "Yes," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes flickering between you and the men. "This gentleman here," he began, gesturing toward Mingyu, "wants you to come with him. He asked me to sell you."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and your teeth bit into your bottom lip to keep the rising panic at bay. Your eyes remained glued to the scuffed toes of your old flats, blinking rapidly as the reality of the situation crashed over you. Summoning every ounce of courage, you finally lifted your head and met Jeonghan’s gaze.

"I’m not for sale," you said firmly, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

Jeonghan smirked and turned to Mingyu. "You heard her, boss. She’s not for sale."

For a moment, the room was deathly silent. Then, without a word, Mingyu rose from his seat, his towering frame exuding an aura of quiet menace. He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping right in front of you. Before you could react, his hand clamped around your arm, his grip firm but not painful.

"Then I’ll take her for the night," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I’ll send her back tomorrow."

"No!" you protested, struggling against his grip. But he ignored you entirely, dragging you out of the office as if you weighed nothing.

You fought harder, your heart pounding in terror, but Mingyu didn’t even falter. One of his men stepped forward at his signal, muffling your protests with a hand over your mouth as he effortlessly hoisted you into his arms. Tears pricked at your eyes as you were carried out, helpless and humiliated.

Jeonghan didn’t move to stop him, though his eyes followed the scene with an unreadable expression. Seungkwan was nowhere to be seen, likely handling the details behind the scenes, as he always did.

You were shoved into a sleek black car, the smell of leather and cologne overwhelming your senses. Moments later, Mingyu climbed in beside you, shutting the door with a quiet finality.

For a moment, the car was silent as he stared at you, his dark eyes cold and calculating. You felt small under his gaze, dirty and insignificant. The contrast between the two of you was stark—he, immaculate in his tailored suit, every inch the powerful man who never dirtied his hands. And you, disheveled and raw, someone who had clawed her way through life’s filth.

"Where are we going?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you avoided his gaze.

Mingyu didn’t answer. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His silence was deafening, and with each passing second, the fear in your chest swelled like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you.

You clutched at the hem of your blouse, fighting to keep your composure as the car sped off into the night, carrying you toward an uncertain fate.

The drive felt endless, the silence in the car heavy with unspoken tension. Your heart pounded relentlessly as the city lights blurred past, each mile pulling you closer to a destination you had tried so hard to leave behind. When the car finally pulled up to the familiar building, your breath hitched. So, he still lived here. After all these years, nothing had changed.

You barely had time to process before one of Mingyu’s men yanked the car door open, grabbing you roughly. You struggled against his grip, but it was useless as he hoisted you onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. Humiliation burned in your chest as you were carried inside, powerless to stop him.

The next thing you knew, you were thrown onto a large, familiar bed, the softness beneath you starkly contrasting the harshness of your situation. Your eyes darted to Mingyu, who stood tall beside his man, his commanding posture radiating authority. His gaze was cold, unyielding, a side of him you had never known—or perhaps had refused to see until now.

He kept surprising you, even after all these years.

"Take a shower," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll wait for you."

He turned and walked to an armchair in the corner of the room, sinking into it with a calmness that made your skin crawl. His sharp eyes remained on you, watching, waiting.

Your mind raced with questions. What was he planning to do? Why was he looking for you now, after two years of silence?

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost unbearable. The Mingyu you had once known was far removed from the man before you now—this version of him was colder, darker, and infinitely more dangerous.

*

Mingyu adjusted his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, as his eyes remained fixed on you. You lay on the bed, your body trembling as sobs wracked through you. The sound of your cries filled the room, and for a moment, it was as if time had rewound to a past neither of you could fully escape.

Once, that sound had been his undoing. He used to hate hearing you cry, hated the way it made him feel helpless and consumed by guilt. Every tear you shed back then felt like a blade slicing through him, a reminder of how much he had failed you.

But now? Now, it was different.

Two years had passed since you walked out of his life without a word, and he had made himself a promise. He no longer cared to soothe your pain or ease your fears. All he wanted was to hear you cry—louder, longer, and only because of him.

He didn’t flinch at the sight of your tear-streaked face or the broken sounds that escaped your lips. Instead, a dark satisfaction curled at the edges of his mind. This was what you deserved. You had run from him, abandoned him, left him to piece himself back together alone.

And now, he would make sure you never forgot the price of leaving.

Mingyu leaned against the wall, his gaze unrelenting, as though your pain was the only thing grounding him in this moment. His voice was low, almost a murmur, as he finally spoke.

"Don’t stop," he said, his tone devoid of the warmth it once held. "I like it when you cry."

Mingyu walked out of the room, closing the door behind him without a second glance. His long strides carried him through the quiet halls of his penthouse, the tension in his shoulders evident. He summoned Seungkwan with a sharp nod as soon as he saw him waiting in the adjacent living room.

"How did the negotiations go with Jeonghan?" Mingyu asked, his voice curt, every word clipped with impatience.

Seungkwan adjusted his tie, his face carefully neutral as he responded. "Jeonghan didn’t make it easy, as expected. He insisted she wasn’t for sale and tried to keep his cards close. But when we presented the legal documents…" Seungkwan trailed off, glancing at Mingyu for approval before continuing. "He had no choice but to back down. He can’t hold her. Not when the paperwork makes it clear—she’s yours. Filed and legal."

Mingyu let out a low hum, the corner of his lips twitching in what might have been satisfaction. "Good. Jeonghan may think he’s untouchable, but even he knows better than to challenge what’s already mine."

He dismissed Seungkwan with a wave of his hand, not waiting for a reply as he headed toward his bedroom. His steps slowed as he approached the door, the weight of the past pressing against him with every step.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, exactly as he’d left it two years ago. It felt frozen in time, untouched and preserved like a mausoleum of their shared history. On the nightstand sat the object that had haunted him all this time—your wedding band.

It lay there, small and unassuming, but its presence was enough to stir something in him. The sight of it was a cruel reminder of the night you had walked out, leaving it behind as if it had meant nothing. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the cool metal as a bitter smile played on his lips.

"You thought you could leave," he murmured to himself, the weight of the ring heavy in his palm. "But you were mine then, and you’re mine now. No one else has the right to you."

Mingyu rubbed the cool metal of the ring on his finger, the same one that had circled it for five years now. The weight of it felt heavier tonight, a reminder of the moment he had impulsively decided to settle down with you. It hadn’t been planned—it was a reckless decision, one made in the heat of the moment.

It was in one of his nightclubs where it all began. He had been sitting in a VIP booth, deep in conversation with Dino, one of his most trusted managers. Mingyu’s gaze wandered, and then he saw you—sitting alone at the bar, nursing a drink with an air of detachment.

“She’s a regular,” Dino had said, noticing where Mingyu’s eyes lingered. “Still young, but life’s been rough on her. Seems to have hit her harder than most.”

Mingyu saw himself in you then, a familiar weight of the world reflected in your posture, in the way your eyes avoided the lively crowd around you.

He remembered every detail from that night—the red tube dress that hugged your frame, the way your shoulder-length hair framed your face perfectly, enhancing your natural charm. You were magnetic, even in your silence, and something about you drew him in before he could stop himself.

Without hesitation, he stood and made his way to you. The noise of the nightclub faded into the background as he approached, leaning casually against the bar beside you.

“I’m Mingyu,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the nightclub.

You barely glanced at him, muttering an indifferent, “Okay,” before taking another sip.

Most people would have turned toward him, eager to make an impression. But not you. Your disinterest amused him, even challenged him. He found himself wanting to break through that wall, to see what was behind it.

“I like your dress,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile.

You froze for a second before finally meeting his gaze, the suspicion in your eyes softening just slightly. “Thanks,” you said, your tone still wary but warmer now. “I designed it myself.”

Mingyu’s brows lifted in surprise. “You’re a designer?”

“Not yet,” you muttered, a bitter edge to your voice. “I’m a fashion design student.”

The way your shoulders sagged just slightly didn’t escape him. “What’s holding you back?”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as if the weight of the world rested on your shoulders. “I just lost my part-time job,” you admitted. “I’m drowning in bills, I’m behind on rent, and I’m about two weeks away from dropping out. So yeah, life’s peachy.”

Mingyu felt a strange pang in his chest as he listened. He’d been there once, clawing his way out of his own struggles. He saw a reflection of himself in your frustration, in your refusal to give up even when everything seemed stacked against you.

“Why not ask for help?” he asked, his tone more curious than judgmental.

You scoffed, your lips curling into a bitter smile. “From who? My family’s barely getting by, and my friends aren’t in a position to help. It’s just me.”

Something about the way you said it—so resigned yet so determined—hit him harder than he expected. He hadn’t come to the bar looking to get involved in anyone else’s problems, but now he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

“What if someone did help you?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

You shot him a wary look, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you a job,” he said simply, watching your reaction closely.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across your face. “What kind of job?”

“Something stable,” he replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Enough to cover your bills and keep you in school.”

You stared at him, clearly caught off guard. “Why would you do that?”

“Maybe I see something in you,” he said, holding your gaze. “Something worth investing in.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “There’s always a catch.”

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You’re right. There is.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Be my girl.”

Your eyes widened, and for the first time that night, you looked genuinely rattled. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice steady and unyielding. “Date me. Stay by my side. Let me take care of you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your lips parting as if you were about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“That’s insane,” you finally said, your voice rising slightly.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But it’s the best offer you’re going to get.”

Your hands clenched into fists, and Mingyu could see the storm brewing in your eyes, the way you were fighting to hold your ground. But he also saw the hesitation, the flicker of doubt that told him you were considering it, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“And if I say no?” you challenged, your voice sharper now.

Mingyu’s smile faded, replaced by a look of calm seriousness. “Then you keep struggling,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I walk away.”

The air between you felt heavy, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingyu could see the conflict written all over your face, the way your pride clashed with your desperation.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek business card, placing it on the bar in front of you. “Take your time,” he said as he straightened up. “But don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t wait forever.”

Mingyu's fingers traced the cold metal of the wedding band that had sat on his finger for five years. He could still see your face so clearly that night, framed by the dim lighting of the bar. He remembered the fire in your eyes, the sharpness of your words, and the way your defiance had chipped away at his guarded heart. You hadn’t made it easy for him. In fact, you’d fought him every step of the way. But somehow, in your stubbornness, he’d found something he never knew he needed.

He chuckled bitterly at the memory of you glaring at him when he handed you that business card. He had left the club half-convinced you’d never call. But you did, two days later. And that one decision had set everything in motion—your life intertwined with his so quickly it felt inevitable, like the universe had conspired to push you together.

Mingyu’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles whitening as the weight of the present slammed back into him. The bedroom was silent now, suffocatingly so. His eyes fell on the wedding band that still sat on the small glass tray by the bed—your band. The one you had left behind two years ago.

The ache in his chest deepened as he reached out and picked it up, holding it between his fingers. It felt heavier than he remembered, or maybe that was just the weight of your absence. He turned it over, his thumb brushing against the faint engraving inside: Forever, no matter what.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, filled with self-loathing and regret. No matter what, he thought, his jaw tightening. That promise had shattered the night you walked away, leaving nothing but unanswered questions and an emptiness he couldn’t fill, no matter how hard he tried.

Now you were back—thrown back into his orbit by circumstances neither of you could escape. But this time, Mingyu wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers. He would hold on to you, no matter what it took. No matter what had happened between you, no matter how far you had run, Mingyu wasn’t about to let anyone—not even you—take that away from him.

*

Mingyu’s jaw clenched as his emotions roiled, threatening to spill over the edge. He paced the length of the room, each heavy step reverberating through the walls. The mere mention of you leaving, of you wanting to go "home," ignited something dangerous in him. He stopped abruptly and turned to face you, his dark eyes narrowing, filled with unrestrained fury and hurt.

"This is your home, Y/n," he growled, his voice low but trembling with intensity. "You're not going anywhere."

You flinched at his tone, your lips parting to protest, but no words came out. His presence was suffocating, his emotions a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path.

Your trembling hand reached for the wedding band you had tossed at him moments ago, lying carelessly on the floor like a discarded piece of your past. But Mingyu was faster. He bent down, scooped it up, and straightened with a sharpness that made you freeze in place.

He took a step toward you, towering over your seated form on the edge of the bed. "You think you can just throw this away?" he demanded, holding up the ring between his fingers. "You think you can throw me away?"

His words sliced through the room, heavy with the weight of his anguish. You met his gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes despite the fear. "I never leave. You—"

"No," he interrupted harshly, his voice rising. "You don’t get to justify what you did."

Before you could say another word, Mingyu grabbed your left hand with a firm grip, his touch both rough and possessive. His movements were deliberate as he slid the wedding ring back onto your finger, forcing it down until it rested snugly where it once had.

"You don’t get to decide this anymore," he spat, his tone laced with betrayal. "You’re mine, Y/n. You’ve always been mine. And you will wear this, whether you like it or not."

You yanked your hand back, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head. "You shouldn't treat me like this. You—"

"You left me two years ago!" Mingyu roared, his anger finally breaking free. "You walked away when things got hard, and now you think you can waltz back into this life like you have any right to tell me what’s yours and what isn’t?"

His words hit you like a slap, and the tears you had been holding back began to fall. But it wasn’t just anger in his voice. Beneath the fury was something raw, something broken, something desperate.

Mingyu’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths as he struggled to rein in his emotions. He turned away from you, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn’t want to break in front of you—not like this. But seeing the way you treated him now, after everything, after all those nights he spent waiting and wondering if you were alive or dead—it gutted him.

"You don’t get to walk away again, Y/n," he said finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "Not this time. Not ever."

You sat frozen on the bed, your hand trembling as you stared down at the ring now back on your finger. The weight of it felt suffocating, a reminder of all the promises you had broken, all the ties you thought you had severed.

Mingyu turned to face you again, his expression hardened but his eyes betraying the depth of his pain. "You’re staying," he said, finality dripping from every word. "And you’re going to learn that running from me was the biggest mistake of your life."

And with that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone with the suffocating weight of his words—and the impossible decision you had made two years ago to leave the man who refused to let you go.

*

Mingyu pounced on you mercilessly, his unrelenting touch leaving no room for protest. Tears streaked your cheeks, remnants of the countless climaxes he had forced out of you since bringing you back to this house. Every movement felt like a punishment, each thrust a reminder of his control and your helplessness beneath him.

You didn’t recognize this version of Mingyu. The man you once knew was sweet, attentive, and so careful with you. He worshiped you in a way that made you feel cherished, not claimed.

“Red dress,” you remembered him saying one night long ago, his voice soft like a whisper in the dark as he cradled you. “That’s the word. Say it if I cross the line, love.” His lips had trailed along your skin back then, his hands moving with reverence, bringing you both to a shared climax that felt like love and devotion wrapped into one.

But the Mingyu hovering above you now was someone you didn’t know. His eyes burned with something darker, something destructive. He didn’t hear you—or maybe he refused to. The only sound he seemed to acknowledge was your cries, and instead of stopping, it fueled him, driving him harder, faster, as though he wanted to break every part of you that had dared to leave him.

Your hands weakly pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance as his pace quickened, his body chasing his release with a rough intensity that only added to your pain. It wasn’t love—it was punishment. And it was tearing you apart.

“Mingyu…” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as you gasped for air, your chest heaving beneath his weight. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He was too lost in his anger, his obsession, his need to make you his again.

It was too much. Your body ached, your heart cracked, and the memories you had buried. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Red dress…” The word fell from your lips, faint and trembling, but it was enough to make his movements falter. You gripped his shoulders with what little strength you had left, your voice louder this time, more desperate. “Red dress!”

For the first time, you said it. He made you say it.

Mingyu froze above you, his body stiffening as your safe word registered. His breathing was ragged, his hands still gripping your hips tightly, but the haze of anger and desire in his eyes began to clear. The weight of what he had done—and what he had almost done—crashed down on him like a tidal wave.

He pulled away from you abruptly, sitting back on his heels as he ran a hand through his damp hair. His gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding yours, as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

You curled into yourself further, clutching the sheets tightly against your trembling body. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t block out the flicker of memories that surged forward, uninvited and cruel.

A darkened room. A rough hand clamping over your mouth. The searing pain that ripped through you as you struggled, screamed, and pleaded with a monster who didn’t care. His laughter, cold and hollow, echoing in your ears as he broke you in ways you could never mend.

Your chest tightened as the memories clawed their way to the surface, the terror suffocating. You shut your eyes tightly, hoping to will them away, but they were relentless, forcing you to relive every second. The metallic tang of blood, the biting cold of the floor beneath you, and the deafening silence after it was all over—they haunted you.

"Stop…" you whispered, your voice shaky, as though saying it aloud could chase the memories away.

Mingyu’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes filled with concern. He hadn’t seen you like this before, hadn’t known how deeply you were fractured beneath the surface.

“Y/n…” he murmured, his voice low and cautious. He reached out a hand toward you, but you flinched, shrinking further into yourself as the memories overwhelmed you.

The sound of a lock clicking echoed in your mind, followed by the ghost of a whisper, taunting and cruel: “No one’s coming for you. You’re mine now.”

You choked on a sob, clutching your knees to your chest as your breathing grew shallow. Your entire body trembled, the scars of that night ripping open as if they had never healed.

Mingyu froze, his hand hovering in the air, trembling slightly as he watched you crumble before him. This was the moment he thought he wanted—the moment you would break, the moment you would stumble into pieces right in front of him, a reflection of the pain he carried for two long years. He had imagined it countless times, the satisfaction it would bring to see you fall apart under the weight of your own actions, just as he had when you left him.

But now that it was happening, it felt nothing like he expected.

You weren’t just broken; you were shattered in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Your trembling body, the way your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you were trying to hold what was left together—it wasn’t the kind of collapse he had fantasized about. This wasn’t regret or guilt consuming you. This was fear, despair, and something far deeper and darker than he could ever understand.

“Y/n…” he whispered, his voice faltering as he tried to reach you, but the sight of you made his hand retreat. It was as if he could feel the weight of your pain just by being near you.

Your sobs were raw and unrestrained, tearing through the room like thunder in the silence. It was unbearable, a sound he had sworn to never let leave your lips when you were his. And now, he was the reason for it, the catalyst of your unraveling.

He had wanted to see you vulnerable, to prove to himself that you weren’t untouchable, that you weren’t as strong as you appeared when you walked away. But this? This wasn’t what he wanted. The sight of your broken form twisted something inside him, something he didn’t even realize was still intact.

His lips parted as if to speak, to comfort, to apologize, but the words died in his throat. What could he say to someone who looked so lost, so haunted by a pain he couldn’t comprehend? Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he whispered your name again, softer this time. “I’m sorry…”

But the words tasted bitter on his tongue, hollow and meaningless against the devastation before him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, couldn’t stop the ache in his chest as he realized just how far gone you were.

This was what he thought he wanted—to see you stumble, to watch you fall. But now that you had, he realized he had been wrong. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t watch you like this, drowning in a darkness he might never be able to pull you out of.

*

You met Jeonghan on a ship bound for Jeju, a vessel that had become your prison for the past month. They had held you there, tied to a bed in a dimly lit room, your wrists raw from struggling against the ropes. A filthy cloth gagged your mouth, muffling your screams while they came and went, using you as their entertainment during the long voyage.

You didn’t know what they planned to do with you. After realizing you were nothing to Mingyu, that he wasn’t coming for you, their patience had grown thin. They could’ve killed you—thrown you overboard into the endless black waves—but they kept you alive, perhaps for their own cruel satisfaction or some plan yet to be revealed.

The ship was alive with noise that night. A New Year’s Eve party was in full swing above deck, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filtering down to your dark corner of despair. But you weren’t thinking about celebration. You had spent the past hours tossing and turning, twisting your body until the ropes that bound you finally gave way.

Your hands were shaking as you worked the knife left carelessly on the desk to cut yourself free. You didn’t know how much time you had, but every second felt like a ticking clock. Once your wrists and ankles were free, you tore the gag from your mouth, the sudden rush of air painful but freeing. Your lips were cracked, your throat parched, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was getting out.

For the first time in a month, you stepped out of the room, your bare feet silent against the cold floor of the corridor. The world outside your prison felt foreign—bright lights, distant music, the murmur of voices—and it overwhelmed your senses. But you didn’t stop moving. You couldn’t.

That’s when you saw him.

Jeonghan. A stranger to you, yet his presence stopped you in your tracks. He was walking down the corridor, dressed in crisp white, his sharp features illuminated under the warm glow of the ship’s chandeliers. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

His brows furrowed, his steps slowing as he studied you, his gaze dropping to the knife clutched tightly in your trembling hands. Before you could decide whether he was a threat or a potential savior, he spoke.

"I'm sorry,” he said softly, his voice laced with something that felt like grief. “You…you look like my late sister.”

You bit your lip hard, the guilt rising in your chest even though you didn’t know why. You didn’t have time for this. Every second wasted was a chance for them to find you.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking as desperation took over. “Help me. I’ve been kidnapped. They held me here for a month. They’re going to kill me. Please…”

Jeonghan’s expression shifted, his sharp features hardening as his gaze swept over you, taking in the marks on your wrists, the disheveled state of your clothes, and the raw fear in your eyes. For a moment, he said nothing, and you wondered if he would turn and walk away, leave you to whatever fate awaited you.

There was no hesitation in his movements as he gently took the knife from your trembling hands, his touch firm but careful, as if afraid you might shatter.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured, his voice calm yet commanding. It was the kind of tone that made you believe him, that gave you a fleeting sense of security amidst the chaos. “I’ll help you.”

"What are you thinking about?" Mingyu’s deep voice pulled you from the swirling storm of your thoughts. The dining room felt heavy with unspoken words, his presence almost suffocating as you sat across from him. Your gaze dropped to the wedding ring on your finger, spinning it absently. It hung loose now, a cruel reminder of how much weight you’d lost since the last time you’d worn it.

“Eat,” he said firmly, his tone edged with concern. “You’ve lost so much weight.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, your eyes squeezing shut as the ache in your chest grew unbearable.

"Why didn’t you look for me?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

The sound of his utensils halting against the plate echoed louder than it should have. Mingyu’s jaw tightened, his gaze unreadable as he looked at you. “Let’s not talk about this in front of the food,” he said finally, his voice clipped.

“I was waiting... for you…” Your voice cracked, the words barely audible. But even as you spoke them, the memories you’d buried began clawing their way back to the surface—the night they captured you as you walked out of his house, the nights they kept you, their hands holding you down, their voices laughing while your life was ripped apart piece by piece.

Mingyu’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, but he didn’t say a word. His silence cut deeper than any of the horrors you had endured.

“You left me,” he said finally, his tone low and cold. “It was your decision.”

Your heart sank further, his words like a knife twisting in your chest. Your eyes fell to the ring again, its presence mocking you, and before you could stop yourself, you slid it off your finger. The metal felt foreign in your palm, just as your life with Mingyu had started to feel like a distant dream.

“Divorce me, Mingyu,” you said, your voice shaking but resolute. “I beg you.”

You slid off your chair and onto your knees beside him, desperation consuming you as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Please, divorce me.”

Mingyu froze, his breath catching as he looked down at you in shock.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice unsure, as if he didn’t recognize the woman kneeling before him—the woman who had once stood beside him with fire in her eyes and laughter in her voice.

“You never loved me,” you said, your voice breaking. “Why are you holding on to me like this? Why, Mingyu? Why?”

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t decipher—anger, pain, guilt. But still, he didn’t move, didn’t speak.

You clutched the ring in your hand, trembling as you searched his face for an answer, for any sign that the man you once knew still existed somewhere within him. But all you saw was the shadow of someone who refused to let you go, even if it meant keeping you trapped in the very thing that was tearing you apart.

*

"I told you, I'd kill for you!" Mingyu’s voice thundered across the room as he stood in front of you, his body trembling with anger. You clutched the file tightly in your hands, your chest heaving as you tried to hold your ground. The contents of the file—a health report of your boss who had ‘accidentally’ been involved in a car accident—felt heavier than ever.

"You can’t just interfere in my life like this!" you shouted back, your voice cracking under the weight of frustration and exhaustion. "I have my own life, Mingyu, one that’s completely separate from yours!"

His jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning with fury. "I did it for you! Why don’t you understand? I’ve always done everything for you!"

"You can’t use your power to manipulate people like that!" you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief. "This isn’t love, Mingyu! This is control!"

His fists clenched at his sides. "I did it because I love you! I wanted to protect you!"

"No," you said firmly, your voice cold and distant. "You did it because you wanted to prove something to yourself. You don’t love me. If you did, you’d listen to me. You’d trust me to handle my own life!"

The words cut through him, and for a moment, you saw the hurt flash across his face. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the seething anger he used to mask his pain.

"You never appreciate my efforts, Y/n. Do you even realize what I’ve done for you? I’ve given you everything!"

"And I never asked for any of it!" you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. "I didn’t want your money, your power, or your obsession with control. I just wanted you, Mingyu. But you—you’ve made this impossible."

"I’ve made it impossible?" he asked incredulously, stepping closer to you. His towering figure loomed over you, but you refused to back down. "I’ve given my everything to you, and you’re telling me I’m the problem?"

"I’m done, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice barely audible. The weight of your decision pressed down on your chest, but you knew it was the only choice you had left.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. His hand shot out to grab your arm, his grip firm but not enough to hurt. "It’s late. I’m not letting you leave in the middle of the night."

"Don’t tell me what to do!" you yelled, pulling your arm free. Your breathing was uneven, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at him.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes searching yours for something—anything—to make you stay.

Without another word, you slipped the wedding ring from your finger, the cold metal burning your skin as you clenched it in your fist. Then, with trembling hands, you threw it at him. The sound of the ring hitting the floor echoed in the suffocating silence that followed.

"I’m leaving, Mingyu," you said, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your face. "Don’t look for me. Don’t try to find me."

You turned on your heel and walked toward the door, every step feeling like it was tearing you apart.

Mingyu watched your figure curled up against him, your body finally relaxed as you slept on his arm. His fingers moved instinctively, brushing the tear stains from your cheeks, the evidence of all the pain you had carried with you. Even after all this time, after everything that had happened between the two of you, you still held a place in his heart—one so sacred it terrified him. You awakened a part of him he didn’t know existed, a part that craved to protect and cherish, even when he didn’t know how to do it right.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Watching you like this, peaceful in sleep, was a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. The image of you kneeling before him, begging him to let you go, still burned in his mind. It made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

His thoughts drifted to the beginning, to the earlier days of your marriage, when everything was new and full of promise. He had loved you with every fiber of his being, and he still did. That hadn’t changed. But somewhere along the way, everything had shifted, spiraling into arguments and misunderstandings that neither of you could navigate.

Mingyu ran a hand over his face, exhaling a shaky breath as your words from earlier echoed in his head.

"Why didn’t you look for me?"

"I was waiting for you."

His jaw tightened as guilt twisted in his gut. He had looked for you. He had turned the world upside down trying to find you, desperate to bring you back into his life. He had sent people out, combed through every lead, and left no stone unturned. And yet, you’d slipped through his fingers like sand.

But why would you say that?

Why would you think he hadn’t searched for you?

Hadn’t you known how much he needed you?

“What went wrong?” he whispered into the stillness of the room, his voice trembling with frustration and confusion.

He glanced down at you again, at the faint crease of worry that lingered even in your sleep. Had he missed something? Had he been so blinded by his own grief and desperation that he’d overlooked something crucial?

Mingyu’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as if trying to piece together the answers from the fragments of your shared past. He thought back to the fights, the nights you spent in silence, the moments when your eyes begged him to understand something he couldn’t see.

Mingyu noticed the faint movement of your eyelashes fluttering open as the morning light spilled into the room. He had been awake for a while, watching over you, memorizing the delicate rise and fall of your chest and the way your hand unconsciously rested near his heart.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. You blinked a few times, your gaze unfocused at first, before your eyes met his.

“Am I dreaming?” you murmured, your voice hoarse with sleep.

He shook his head slowly, his smile deepening as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there for a moment, warm and reassuring, as if he were silently promising that this was real.

“No,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and steady. “You’re not dreaming.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing slightly as if you couldn’t believe he was there, holding you like this after everything. Mingyu shifted closer, his hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your lips trembled, and for a moment, Mingyu thought you were about to cry again. But instead, you exhaled shakily, your hand hesitantly reaching up to rest against his chest.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Why are you still here after everything?”

Mingyu’s smile faltered, but his gaze never wavered. He leaned his forehead against yours, his voice trembling with emotion as he replied, “Because I love you, Y/n. I always have. Even when it hurt, even when I didn’t know how to show it, I never stopped.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you searched his face, looking for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was sincerity and the weight of a man who had been carrying the burden of his love for far too long.

“And I know I’ve made mistakes,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for them if you’ll let me.”

You didn’t answer right away, your hand tightening slightly against his chest as if grounding yourself in the reality of his words. Mingyu didn’t rush you; he simply held you, his heart pounding beneath your palm, as he waited for you to decide if you could let him back in.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible as you broke the silence. “Can you protect me?”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, his hand still resting against your cheek. “What?”

“From anything,” you whispered, your eyes searching his face. “If it happens again… if they come back… could you save me? Will you always be there?”

Mingyu blinked, confused by the weight of your words. His thumb stilled against your skin as he tried to process what you were saying. “Y/n,” he said softly, tilting his head, “what are you talking about? Who’s coming back?”

You bit your lip, hesitating as the memories clawed at the edge of your mind. “Just… answer me,” you urged, your voice trembling.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He sat up straighter, his hands gripping your shoulders gently. “What do you mean, ‘if it happens again’? What happened to you?”

You averted your gaze, unable to look him in the eye. “Mingyu, please,” you said, your voice cracking. “Just promise me you’ll be there next time. That no matter what happens, you’ll come for me.”

His heart twisted at your words, at the way your voice shook like you were asking for the impossible. He cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I did come for you,” he said, his voice firm but laced with pain. “I looked everywhere for you. I tried—God, Y/n, I tried so hard to find you.”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered, your tears spilling over. “You didn’t find me, Mingyu. And I was alone. They took me, they—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his hands trembling as he held you. “Don’t say it. Please, just—don’t.”

“But it’s the truth!” you cried, your voice breaking. “And you don’t even understand what I’m asking you. I need to know that if it happens again, you’ll—”

“It won’t happen again!” Mingyu snapped, his voice rising. “I won’t let it. Don’t you see that? I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again.”

“But you can’t promise that,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your fear. “You don’t even know what you’re protecting me from.”

Mingyu stared at you, his chest heaving as the reality of your words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to tell you he would protect you no matter what, but the truth was, he didn’t understand. He didn’t know the full extent of what had been done to you, and that ignorance made his promise feel fragile.

*

Mingyu leaned back in his chair after Seungkwan left, his eyes narrowing in thought. The younger man’s words echoed in his mind, but they left a bitter taste.

“Do you know something I don’t, Seungkwan?” Mingyu asked, his voice steady but laced with suspicion.

Seungkwan blinked, his brows furrowing. “What are you referring to, hyung?”

Mingyu shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Seungkwan’s lips parted in confusion, but he quickly composed himself. “Hyung, I don’t understand. I always be honest with you."

For the first time, Mingyu felt a crack in the unwavering trust he had in Seungkwan. He had always been his confidant, his right hand, the one person who never failed him. But now… there was doubt.

Mingyu tapped his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic sound punctuating the silence of his office. His instincts told him that something didn’t add up, and for all his reassurances, Seungkwan hadn’t erased that suspicion. If anything, he’d deepened it.

What if Seungkwan knows more than he’s letting on?

The thought was dangerous, but Mingyu couldn’t dismiss it. He’d built his empire on trusting his gut, and right now, his gut was screaming at him to tread carefully.

Picking up his phone, Mingyu scrolled through his contacts and dialed a number—one of his trusted security heads who operated far outside Seungkwan’s circle.

“Hyungnim?” The voice on the other end answered almost immediately.

“I need you to start looking into something,” Mingyu said, his voice low. “Discreetly. No one else can know—not even Seungkwan.”

There was a pause before the man responded. “Understood. What are we looking for?”

Mingyu hesitated, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t put everything into words—not yet. “Just… go over the records. Anything tied to the search we did for Y/n two years ago. Cross-check it. See if there’s anything out of place. And keep me updated directly. No one else.”

“Yes, hyungnim.”

Mingyu ended the call and placed the phone back on the desk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his mind spiraling.

He hated this feeling—the uncertainty, the doubt. He had always relied on Seungkwan. He wanted to believe him. But he couldn’t afford to take chances anymore. Not when it came to Y/n.

For now, he would keep his suspicions to himself. Seungkwan didn’t need to know what he was doing behind his back. Mingyu told himself it was just precaution. But deep down, a darker thought lingered: What if Seungkwan really did betray me?

Mingyu clenched his fists. He didn’t want to believe it. But he also knew one thing for sure—he would uncover the truth, no matter what it cost.

The file arrived late at night. Mingyu sat in his study, the glow of the desk lamp casting harsh shadows across his face as he opened the folder sent by Myungho. His heartbeat thudded heavily in his chest, each second stretched thin with anticipation.

The first thing he saw was a grainy photo from a CCTV camera. The timestamp read two years ago, the date burned into Mingyu’s mind as the time he lost you. The image showed a familiar figure walking into a high-end restaurant. Mingyu’s stomach dropped when he recognized him—Seungkwan.

Seungkwan wasn’t alone. He was with Seungcheol.

Mingyu’s jaw clenched as he flipped to the next page. More photos followed, showing Seungkwan seated with Seungcheol, their expressions unreadable in the stills. It wasn’t just one meeting. Myungho had compiled several images of them together, spanning weeks.

Then came the texts.

Seungkwan: "I’ve done what you asked. Mingyu won’t find out."

Seungcheol’s associate: "Good. We’ll keep our end of the deal. Make sure everything goes smoothly."

Seungkwan: "I’ll handle it. Just remember what we agreed on."

Mingyu’s hands tightened around the papers, his knuckles white. He read the messages over and over, trying to make sense of them. His mind raced as the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.

Two years ago, when you disappeared, Mingyu’s business had taken a massive hit. Deals fell through, clients backed out, and his empire wavered for the first time in years. At the same time, Seungcheol’s ventures skyrocketed, almost as if he had insider knowledge of Mingyu’s operations.

And now, Mingyu had proof that Seungkwan, the man he had trusted with his life, had been meeting with Seungcheol during that exact period.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning.

Was this why Seungkwan claimed he couldn’t find Y/n?

Had he been working with Seungcheol to sabotage me all along?

The thought made Mingyu’s blood boil. He had built everything with his own hands, had fought tooth and nail to protect it—and someone he considered family had betrayed him.

Mingyu closed his eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on him. If Seungkwan had truly betrayed him, then what else had he lied about? Had he been complicit in keeping you away from him?

He couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions—not yet. But the evidence was damning, and the rage in Mingyu’s chest grew hotter with every passing second.

Picking up his phone, he dialed Myungho.

“Hyungnim,” Myungho answered immediately.

“Keep digging,” Mingyu ordered, his voice cold and steady. “I want everything—every detail, every connection between Seungkwan and Seungcheol. I want to know what they did and why.”

“Yes, hyungnim.”

Mingyu ended the call and stared at the file on his desk. His fingers drummed against the wood as he thought.

Seungkwan would come to his office tomorrow as he always did, unaware that Mingyu now saw him in a different light. Mingyu would pretend nothing had changed—he’d play along.

But inside, a storm was brewing. Mingyu had built his empire on loyalty, and if Seungkwan had broken that loyalty, there would be consequences.

His eyes hardened as he whispered to himself, “No one betrays me and gets away with it.”

*

Mingyu drove you both to Jeonghan’s place, the familiar path stirring something nostalgic within you. It had been weeks since you’d last been there, and the moment you stepped inside, you couldn’t stop smiling. Memories flooded back as you reunited with old colleagues, chatting and hugging them like no time had passed. Your laughter echoed through the walls, and for a moment, it felt like you’d returned to a piece of yourself you thought you’d lost.

Jeonghan greeted Mingyu with a firm handshake, his characteristic smirk in place as he led him to his office. The air between the two men was thick, the weight of unspoken things hovering like smoke in the room. Speaking of which, Jeonghan pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Mingyu, who accepted without hesitation. The faint flicker of the lighter cast brief shadows on their faces as they settled into their conversation.

“I figured you’d come to visit sooner or later,” Jeonghan said casually, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. His laid-back demeanor struck a nerve in Mingyu, who forced himself to remain calm.

Mingyu shook his head slowly, exhaling smoke as he spoke. “She refused to tell me everything.”

Jeonghan nodded knowingly. “Of course. It’s not something easy to talk about. If I were married, I don’t think I’d share the darkest parts of my life with my wife, either.”

Mingyu’s gaze sharpened. “You’re married?”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh. “Not a chance. There’s no way I’d run a business like this with a wife waiting for me at home.” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Anyway, I’m guessing you’re here to know how I met your wife. It’s been over a year and a half now.”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened as Jeonghan leaned forward slightly, recalling the past.

“I don’t remember all the details, but we met on a ship to Jeju. She wasn’t in good shape. I kept her hidden in my room for about a week before I managed to fly her back to Seoul. That was tricky—getting her out without exposing her identity took some doing.”

Mingyu’s voice dropped an octave as he asked, “How was she when you found her?"

Jeonghan shook his head, his usual lightness dimming for the first time. “Horrible. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. It wasn’t just physical, though. The real damage was… mental.”

Mingyu’s fingers tightened around his cigarette, but before he could press further, the door swung open.

You stepped in, arm in arm with one of your old friends—Yumi, your face lit up with excitement. “Can we go to the café on the next block?” you asked Mingyu with a grin, your tone brimming with the carefree energy he’d missed so much.

He softened immediately, his lips curling into a small smile. “Of course, love. Let me know if you need anything.”

As soon as you left, Jeonghan’s chuckle filled the room. “You two really are married. You can see it a mile away.”

Mingyu nodded slightly, taking another drag from his cigarette. “My right hand showed you the documents, didn’t he?”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Your right hand… Seungkwan, isn’t it? Something’s off about him.”

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan rubbed his chin, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I remember him. He’s been here before—long before you ever showed up. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but now…”

Mingyu leaned forward, his tone sharp. “What was he doing here?”

Jeonghan’s chuckle was low and deliberate. “What do you think, man? He works for you like a dog, doesn’t he? Even dogs need their own satisfaction sometimes."

The insinuation hung heavy in the air, Mingyu’s mind racing as the pieces began to connect.

*

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe him.

In the weeks that followed, Mingyu worked tirelessly to show you he was serious about rebuilding your relationship. He opened up more, shared his own fears and regrets, and listened when you finally began to share your trauma. You both sought help—individually and together—and slowly, the walls between you began to crumble.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder, Mingyu turned to you with a small smile. “You know, I don’t think I ever told you how much I admire your strength.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Strength? Mingyu, I’ve been a mess.”

He shook his head. “No. You survived things most people couldn’t even imagine. And despite everything, you’re still here, still fighting. That’s strength, Y/n. And I’m so proud of you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his waist. For the first time, you felt safe in his arms—not just physically, but emotionally.

“I think,” you whispered, “we might actually be okay.”

Mingyu pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his own eyes damp. “We will be. Together.”

The next morning, Mingyu approached you cautiously as you sat by the window, sipping tea. His face was calm, but the slight furrow of his brow gave away the thoughts swirling in his head.

“Y/n,” he began softly, catching your attention, “I’ve been thinking about everything you’ve been through and how I can help. I want to do this right.”

You looked at him, tilting your head slightly. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, sitting across from you. “I’ve reached out to someone—a professional. A psychiatrist. I want you to have someone to talk to, someone who can help you process everything.” His voice was steady but tinged with hesitation, as though unsure how you’d react.

Your fingers tightened around your teacup. “A psychiatrist?”

“I know it might feel strange or overwhelming, but you’ve been through so much, Y/n,” he said earnestly. “I’ve seen how you carry everything on your own, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to anymore. I’ll be here for you, always, but I’m not equipped to help you the way a professional can. You deserve this.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. The idea of opening up to a stranger about your darkest moments felt daunting, almost unbearable. Yet, there was something in Mingyu’s eyes—a mixture of concern and unwavering support—that made you consider it.

“You really think it’ll help?” you asked quietly.

“I do,” he said, reaching out to take your hand. “And I’ll be there every step of the way if you want me to be. But this is your choice, Y/n. I won’t force you into anything.”

You looked down at his hand covering yours, warmth spreading through you. For so long, you had felt like you were navigating a storm alone, but now, there was someone willing to anchor you, to guide you toward calmer waters.

“Okay,” you said after a long pause. “I’ll try.”

Mingyu’s relief was palpable, and his lips curved into a gentle smile. “Thank you, Y/n. That’s all I want—for you to feel like yourself again.”

A week later, you found yourself sitting in a cozy office, the walls painted in soothing tones of blue and green. Mingyu had accompanied you, waiting patiently outside the room as you met with Dr. Han, the psychiatrist he had carefully chosen for you.

Dr. Han was warm and approachable, her demeanor instantly putting you at ease. As the sessions progressed, you found it easier to open up, piece by piece, unraveling the tangled web of trauma, fear, and guilt that had weighed on you for so long.

Each time you left the sessions, Mingyu was there, waiting with a reassuring smile. He never pried, never asked what was discussed unless you brought it up first. Instead, he focused on being a steady presence in your life, reminding you in small, thoughtful ways that you weren’t alone.

It happened during one of your sessions with Dr. Han, but this time, Mingyu was allowed to sit in at your request. It wasn’t planned, and you had no intention of talking about everything that had been locked deep inside your heart for so long. But as you sat there, looking at Mingyu’s face, his unwavering support breaking through your walls, you decided it was time.

Your hands trembled as you spoke, your voice cracking under the weight of the words you hadn’t dared to say before. The memories came rushing out—how you were taken that night outside his house, how they had hurt you, broken you, and left you feeling like you’d never be whole again. Every agonizing detail poured out, and Mingyu sat there, silent, his jaw tightening with each word you uttered.

By the time you finished, the room was silent except for your shaky breaths. Mingyu’s hands clenched into fists, the veins in his arms bulging as he fought to contain the storm raging within him.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury, “they will pay for this. Every single one of them.”

You reached out to touch his hand, trying to calm him. “Mingyu, I—”

“No,” he cut you off, his eyes blazing with a mixture of pain and anger. “No more letting this go. They took you from me. They broke you. I can’t... I won’t let them get away with it.”

Without another word, Mingyu pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Jisoo,” he barked, his tone sharp and commanding, “get everyone to my office. Now. We’re settling this.”

The drive back to his headquarters was tense. Mingyu’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. You sat in silence, unsure of what to say, yet oddly comforted by his determination to make things right.

When you arrived, Jisoo and the rest of Mingyu’s trusted men were already gathered in his office. Mingyu stormed in, his presence commanding as he slammed the door shut behind him.

“I have reason to believe Seungkwan betrayed us,” Mingyu began, his voice cold and steely. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, but Jisoo remained calm, his eyes narrowing as he took in Mingyu’s words.

Mingyu threw a file onto the table, the photos and texts spilling out for everyone to see. “This is proof of his dealings with Seungcheol. He lied to me, he lied to all of us, and he left Y/n out there to suffer while he worked with our rival.”

Jisoo stepped forward, examining the evidence before looking up at Mingyu. “What do you want us to do, hyung?”

Mingyu’s expression darkened, his voice low and menacing. “I want justice. I want every man who was involved to pay for what they did to her. And I want Seungkwan brought to me—alive.”

The room fell silent, the gravity of his words sinking in. Jisoo nodded, his loyalty unwavering. “Consider it done.”

As the men began to file out, preparing to execute Mingyu’s orders, he turned to Jisoo one last time. “This isn’t just about business anymore. This is personal. Make sure they all understand that.”

Jisoo’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Don’t worry, hyung. They’ll understand.”

When the room was empty, Mingyu walked back to you. His expression softened slightly as he knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/n, I swear to you, this ends now. You’ll never have to look over your shoulder again. I’ll protect you, no matter what it takes.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, his words offering a comfort you hadn’t felt in years. And for the first time, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, justice was finally within reach.

*

Seungkwan paced his dimly lit apartment, the glow from the city skyline casting jagged shadows across the room. His mind churned with thoughts of his next move, fueled by frustration and ambition. Mingyu’s resurgence had become impossible to ignore. The empire Seungkwan had worked so hard to weaken was rising from the ashes faster than he’d anticipated, and he knew he couldn’t stop it without drastic measures.

He glanced at his desk, where a manila envelope lay open, its contents spread out like pieces of a puzzle. Photographs of you, smiling faintly in the arms of your colleagues, and reports of your whereabouts that spanned the past two years. Seungkwan clenched his fists. He had always known where you were. From the moment you fled, he had kept tabs on you, careful to stay one step ahead of Mingyu.

It wasn’t just about business anymore. It was personal. Mingyu had everything—power, loyalty, love. Seungkwan wanted it all. He wanted to replace Mingyu, to claim the empire he believed should have been his, and he would use every weapon in his arsenal to make it happen.

And you, the one thing that could shatter Mingyu’s focus, were the perfect distraction.

Seungkwan picked up his phone and dialed a number, his fingers steady despite the storm raging inside him. “It’s time,” he said when the call connected. “Make the arrangements. We’re putting her in the frame again.”

The voice on the other end hesitated. “Are you sure about this? Mingyu’s already suspicious of you. If he finds out—”

“He won’t find out,” Seungkwan snapped, his tone sharp and commanding. “Mingyu’s too blinded by his feelings for her to see the bigger picture. He’ll be too busy protecting her to notice what’s happening under his nose.”

The plan was simple but ruthless. Seungkwan would leak just enough information to make it seem like he had miraculously “found” you, ensuring you were brought back into Mingyu’s orbit. He would manipulate events to sow seeds of doubt, making it appear as though you were somehow tied to the setbacks Mingyu had faced in the past.

Seungkwan smirked bitterly, his eyes dark with envy and determination. He had always envied the way Mingyu looked at you, the way he spoke your name as if it were sacred. Seungkwan wanted to strip that away, to prove that love and loyalty were nothing more than weaknesses.

But deep down, he knew his ambitions outstripped his competence. Mingyu’s cunning, his ability to rebuild from the ruins, was something Seungkwan could never match. That thought only fueled his desperation, pushing him further into the abyss of his schemes.

As he hung up the phone, Seungkwan stared at the photograph of you on his desk, his expression a twisted mix of resentment and resolve. “You’ll be the key,” he muttered to himself. “The key to taking everything from him.”

He poured himself a drink and sat back, the weight of his plan settling over him. The lines between personal and professional had long since blurred, and now there was no turning back. If he couldn’t have what Mingyu had built, he would destroy it—and you would be the cornerstone of his revenge.

Seungkwan sat rigid in the sleek leather chair across from Seungcheol, the low hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Seungcheol’s office was cold, both in temperature and atmosphere. It was an embodiment of the man himself—efficient, calculated, and devoid of sentimentality.

Seungcheol tapped a pen against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes fixed on Seungkwan, studying him like a chess piece he was deciding whether to sacrifice.

“You’ve come to me for protection,” Seungcheol began, his tone measured, almost disinterested. “But you’ve yet to explain why I should bother.”

Seungkwan straightened his back, forcing himself to appear composed despite the storm of nerves raging inside him. “Mingyu is closing in. He’s suspicious of me, and it’s only a matter of time before he acts. I’ve been loyal to you, Cheol—feeding you information, giving you an edge. That has to mean something.”

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. “Loyalty is a word people like to throw around when they’re desperate. Let’s not pretend this was ever about loyalty, Seungkwan. You came to me because you wanted power. Because you saw an opportunity to rise above your station.”

“That’s not—”

“Spare me,” Seungcheol interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You turned on Mingyu because you thought it would benefit you. Don’t expect me to believe otherwise. And now that your gamble has backfired, you want me to clean up the mess?”

Seungkwan clenched his fists, his face flushing with frustration. “I’ve been an asset to you! Mingyu’s losses, his setbacks—those didn’t happen by coincidence. I made them happen. I gave you the information you needed to cripple him.”

“And what’s stopping me from discarding you now that I have everything I need?” Seungcheol’s voice was calm, almost bored, but there was an edge of menace in his words.

Seungkwan’s jaw tightened. “Because Mingyu isn’t finished. He’s rebuilding, faster and stronger than we anticipated. If you leave me out to dry, you’ll be facing him at full strength, and you know as well as I do that Mingyu doesn’t forgive, and he doesn’t forget.”

Seungcheol smirked, his amusement cold and condescending. “You think I fear Mingyu?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Let me tell you something, Seungkwan. Mingyu is formidable, yes. But men like him—men driven by love and loyalty—they are predictable. And predictability is a weakness.”

“Then why not use me?” Seungkwan pressed, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know how he thinks. I can help you dismantle him piece by piece.”

Seungcheol’s smirk faded, replaced by an expression of cold indifference. “You overestimate your value, Seungkwan. Mingyu trusted you, and you betrayed him. Do you think I’d trust you any more than he did?”

“I had no choice!” Seungkwan shot back, his voice rising. “Mingyu’s world suffocated me! I gave everything to him, and it was never enough. I deserve more than being his shadow!”

Seungcheol’s gaze hardened. “You don’t deserve anything, Seungkwan. You earn it, or you take it. And from where I’m sitting, you’ve done neither.”

Seungkwan’s breath caught in his throat. He had come here hoping for an ally, for someone to stand between him and Mingyu’s wrath. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a man who saw him as nothing more than a tool—disposable, replaceable.

“Here’s my advice,” Seungcheol said, rising from his chair and walking around the desk to stand over Seungkwan. “Run. Disappear. Because when Mingyu finds you—and he will find you—I won’t be lifting a finger to save you.”

Seungkwan swallowed hard, the weight of Seungcheol’s words sinking in. “You’ll regret this,” he muttered, rising from his chair.

Seungcheol chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “No, Seungkwan. The only one with regrets here is you.”

Seungkwan stormed out of the office, his mind racing. He had gambled everything, and now he had no allies left. All he had was the knowledge that Mingyu was closing in—and he was out of time.

*

It had been a quiet afternoon when Yumi suggested you go out for a coffee and stroll. The idea of unwinding felt like a breath of fresh air, so you agreed, trusting her as you always did. The two of you wandered through the park, sharing stories and laughing, the kind of lightheartedness you had missed. Yumi seemed more excited than usual, her energy contagious as she led you toward a quieter street.

"There's a new cafe around the corner," she said, smiling warmly. "You’ll love it. It’s got this cozy vibe, perfect for catching up."

You followed her, glancing at your phone to let Mingyu know where you were. Before you could hit send, Yumi suddenly slowed her steps, her demeanor shifting subtly.

"Everything okay?" you asked, sensing something off.

Before she could respond, you felt a cold hand on your arm. Turning around, your heart dropped as Seungkwan appeared, his expression a mixture of triumph and menace. He didn’t come alone—two of his men flanked him, blocking any chance of escape.

"Hello, Y/n," Seungkwan greeted, his tone deceptively calm. "Nice day for a walk, isn’t it?"

You instinctively stepped back, but Yumi’s hand on your wrist stopped you. That’s when it hit you—this wasn’t a coincidence.

"Yumi?" you whispered, disbelief washing over you as you looked at her.

She avoided your gaze, her smile now tinged with guilt. "I’m sorry," she murmured. "I didn’t have a choice."

Seungkwan chuckled, stepping closer. "Don’t blame her too much. She’s been very helpful, feeding me all sorts of useful information." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Including where to find you."

Your heart raced as his men closed in, grabbing you despite your struggle. You shouted, hoping someone nearby might hear, but it was a quiet street, and no help came.

"Don’t make this harder than it has to be," Seungkwan warned, pulling a gun from his coat and pressing it to your side. The cold metal against your skin sent a chill down your spine. "We’re going for a little ride."

"Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice shaking as you glared at him.

Seungkwan smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "To teach Mingyu a lesson. And you, my dear, are the perfect way to do it."

The car ride was suffocating. Seungkwan didn’t say much, his men watching you like hawks. Yumi sat quietly in the front seat, her silence louder than any apology she could offer. You wanted to scream, to cry, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Panicking wouldn’t help you now.

When the car stopped, you were dragged into a building you immediately recognized: Mingyu’s office. Your heart pounded as you realized what Seungkwan was planning. He was using you to get to Mingyu, and there was no way this would end peacefully.

As you were forced through the hallways, Mingyu’s men appeared, their eyes widening in shock. They tried to intervene, but the gun pressed against your head kept them at bay.

"Stand down!" Seungkwan barked, dragging you further inside. "Unless you want her blood on your hands."

The silence in Mingyu's office was suffocating as the door burst open, Seungkwan stepping in with you held tightly in his grasp, a gun pressed against your temple. Mingyu stood frozen for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours. He could see the fear you tried to hide, your trembling hands clinging to the fabric of your coat. His fury was palpable, but he didn’t let it show—his calm facade was a mask, concealing the storm brewing inside him.

Seungkwan's smirk was mocking as he pushed you further into the room. "Surprised, hyung? Or maybe not. I’m sure you’ve already figured it out. You’re smart, after all."

Mingyu’s voice was low, dangerous, as he took a step forward. "Let her go, Seungkwan."

"Ah, ah, ah," Seungkwan chided, the gun digging into your temple as you flinched. "One more step, and I’ll splatter her brains all over this room. You wouldn’t want that, would you?"

Mingyu froze, his jaw tightening. His hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender. "You don’t have to do this. Let her go, and we’ll talk. Just you and me."

Seungkwan’s laugh was bitter, almost maniacal. "Talk? Now you want to talk? After everything? After you’ve had everything handed to you while I’ve had to scrape and crawl for scraps?"

"You think this is about me?" Mingyu shot back, his voice rising slightly. "You think hurting her will fix what’s broken inside you?"

Seungkwan’s grip on you tightened as he sneered. "This isn’t just about you. It’s about everything you’ve taken from me. The respect, the loyalty, the power—and now, even her. You’ve built your empire on my back, and I’m taking it all back, piece by piece."

You tried to steady your breathing, your voice barely above a whisper. "Seungkwan, please. You don’t have to do this. This won’t end the way you want it to."

Seungkwan ignored you, his eyes locked on Mingyu. "Tell your men to stand down, hyung. I’m walking out of here, and she’s coming with me."

Mingyu’s fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his voice even. "Alright. I’ll call them off. Just don’t hurt her." He pulled out his phone, dialing Jisoo. "Tell everyone to stand down. No one makes a move until I say so."

Satisfied, Seungkwan smirked. "Good. Now, let’s settle this like men. But first..." His eyes darkened as he looked at you. "Let’s make him watch you suffer a little."

Mingyu’s body tensed, his eyes narrowing as he took a careful step forward. "Seungkwan, if you hurt her, there’s no coming back from this. Whatever you think you’re proving, it won’t matter. You’ll have nothing left."

Seungkwan hesitated for a moment, his grip on you faltering just slightly. You felt it—the tiniest crack in his resolve—and you acted on instinct. Twisting your body, you broke free from his hold, stumbling forward just as Mingyu lunged toward him.

The gun went off, the deafening sound echoing through the room. Your scream filled the air as Mingyu wrestled the weapon out of Seungkwan’s hand, pinning him to the floor with a force that rattled the furniture. Blood trickled from a graze on Mingyu’s arm, but he didn’t seem to notice as he pressed his forearm against Seungkwan’s throat.

Seungkwan choked under the weight of Mingyu's arm, his face contorted in pain and anger as he struggled against the grip. Mingyu's eyes burned with fury, a darkness you had never seen before.

"You had the nerve to put her in harm's way?" Mingyu growled, his voice low and dangerous. "After everything I did for you?"

Seungkwan coughed, clawing at Mingyu’s arm. "You don’t get it, do you?" he spat, his voice strained. "You think you’re untouchable. But everything you have should’ve been mine!"

"You betrayed me!" Mingyu roared, tightening his grip. "You betrayed us all! For what? To chase a delusion of power you could never handle?"

You stood frozen near the corner of the room, trembling as the events unfolded. The gunshot was still ringing in your ears, and all you could focus on was the thin line of blood running down Mingyu’s arm. He had risked himself for you.

One of Mingyu’s men burst into the room, his weapon drawn. "Hyungnim!" he called, his gaze darting between Mingyu and Seungkwan.

"Stay back," Mingyu ordered, his voice cold. His attention returned to Seungkwan, whose resistance was weakening. "Tell me, Seungkwan," Mingyu said, his voice quieter but no less menacing. "Was it worth it? Selling out everything we built for a shot in the dark?"

Seungkwan coughed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You’ll never understand," he rasped. "I’m not like you, Mingyu. I’ll never be like you. And I couldn’t stand living in your shadow anymore."

Mingyu’s jaw clenched as he stared down at the man who had once been his most trusted ally. For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might not let him go. But then his eyes flicked to you, and he saw the fear written all over your face. Slowly, he eased the pressure on Seungkwan’s throat, standing and motioning for his men to take him.

"Get him out of my sight," Mingyu said coldly. "I’ll deal with him later."

Two of his men dragged Seungkwan out of the office, his protests fading into the distance. The moment the door closed, Mingyu turned to you, his expression softening as he crossed the room in a few long strides.

"Y/n," he said gently, reaching out to touch your arm. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head, but tears spilled down your cheeks as the adrenaline crashed over you. "Mingyu, you’re bleeding," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"It’s nothing," he replied, brushing it off as he cupped your face with his uninjured hand. "You’re what matters. Are you okay?"

You nodded, though your body was still shaking. "I thought—I thought I was going to lose you," you admitted, your voice breaking.

Mingyu pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if to reassure you that he was still there. "You’ll never lose me," he murmured against your hair. "Not now, not ever. I promise."

As he held you, the weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air. Mingyu had always been a protector, but this was different. He had faced betrayal, risked everything, and still put your safety above all else.

And in that moment, you realized just how far Mingyu would go to keep you safe.

*

Jeonghan’s wedding was a grand affair, held at an outdoor venue surrounded by lush gardens and glowing fairy lights. The evening air was filled with the hum of laughter and soft music, the perfect backdrop for a celebration of love. You stood beside Mingyu, your hand resting on his arm as the two of you watched Jeonghan and his bride share their first dance under the canopy of stars.

Mingyu glanced at you, his gaze lingering on your glowing expression. "You’re smiling like it’s your wedding," he teased softly, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laughed, nudging him lightly. "Maybe because I know how it feels to have my own dream come true," you said, your free hand gently brushing over your small baby bump.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, his fingers tightening around yours as he looked down at your stomach. “Every time I see you like this, it feels surreal. Like we’ve finally made it.”

His words made your heart swell. The two of you had been through so much—heartbreak, betrayal, and pain. Yet here you were, not just surviving but thriving. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as the music swayed around you.

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” you murmured.

Before Mingyu could reply, Jeonghan appeared in front of you, grinning wide as he stretched out his arms. “Y/n, Mingyu! Aren’t you two going to come congratulate me properly? I didn’t just invite you to stand there being all lovey-dovey.”

You laughed and stepped forward to hug Jeonghan. “Congratulations, Jeonghan. It’s a beautiful wedding.”

Jeonghan returned the hug, then turned to Mingyu, who gave him a firm handshake. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Mingyu said with a chuckle.

Jeonghan smirked. “What can I say? I don’t settle for less.” Then, his gaze fell to your belly, and his expression softened. “And you two are about to outdo me in the family department. When’s the baby due?”

“In about three months,” you said, smiling warmly.

Jeonghan gave a low whistle. “Wow. It’s hard to believe you two are already at this stage. Seems like just yesterday Mingyu couldn’t figure out how to smile in a photo.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Don’t start embarrassing me at your own wedding.”

Jeonghan laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m happy for you both. You deserve this happiness after everything.”

As Jeonghan left to mingle with other guests, Mingyu turned back to you, his hand instinctively finding its place on your belly. His thumb brushed against the fabric of your dress, and his eyes were full of love as he looked at you.

“I still can’t believe it sometimes,” he admitted softly. “That you’re here, with me, and we’re going to be parents soon. It feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.”

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “It’s real, Mingyu. And we’re going to make the most of it.”

Later in the evening, as the two of you sat at your table watching the festivities, Mingyu leaned over and whispered, “I’ve been thinking… Once the baby’s here, we should move out of the city. Somewhere quieter, where we can focus on our family.”

You turned to him, surprised but touched. “Really? What about your business?”

Mingyu smiled. “I left it in Jisoo’s hands. He’s more than capable. I don’t want to be tied to that life anymore. I want to be with you and our child, making a life that’s ours, free from all of that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you leaned in to kiss him gently. “I love you, Mingyu.”

“And I love you,” he replied, his hand once again finding its place on your belly.

The night ended with you and Mingyu dancing under the stars, the world around you fading into the background. Jeonghan’s wedding wasn’t just a celebration of his love but also a reminder of how far you and Mingyu had come—a testament to your strength, resilience, and love.

As the two of you swayed to the music, Mingyu pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “This is only the beginning for us, Y/n. I promise, our best days are still ahead.”

And as you leaned into him, your heart full of hope and love, you believed him.

End.

[miihho]

"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You were furious. Shattering objects around your room, you turned your once pristine chamber into a chaotic mess. Your anger overflowed onto everyone around you, shouting and unleashing abuse.

After that, you broke down. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped the bed sheets, sprawled on your royal bed still clad in your sleepwear.

You were M/n, the prince! How could you have stooped so low as to beg someone, especially a butler? It was utterly humiliating! What would your father and mother say if they discovered your shameful behavior?

Your father had placed a heavy burden upon your shoulders, entrusting you with the future of the empire. He had envisioned you as a paragon of strength, resilience, and dominance. However, you found yourself succumbing to the influence of a mere butler. His admonitions reverberated in your mind like a relentless echo.

"Do not disappoint me. Be strong and wield the sword with skill, just as your brother does. My time wanes, and the throne shall be yours upon my passing. Fail me not, M/n, lest I consider another heir."

These words were etched into your very being, a constant weight upon your conscience. You vowed not to falter. You would rise above this moment of weakness and prove yourself worthy of the crown he had bestowed upon you.

Your cries were silent, hidden from the world. You couldn't bear the thought of anyone discovering your weakness, fearing it would tarnish your reputation and redefine how others perceived you. You couldn't afford to be seen as anything less than the strong and dominant M/n they expected.

You couldn't let your mother and father see this side of you. No one could know your vulnerability. But that butler had already glimpsed your submissive nature, a betrayal you couldn't forgive.

Clutching the bedsheets tighter, you vowed to exact punishment upon him. But how? The question gnawed at you as you plotted your next move.

"Your Highness?"

Your eyes widened as you recognized that voice. It was that damned butler! Quickly, you got up from your bed and hurried to the door without thinking. With a rush of irritation, you swung it open and came face-to-face with that annoying face you despised.

"You asshole! How dare you show your face in front of me!? Get out of my sight, I never wish to see you here ever again!" you yelled, your voice trembling with anger.

He stared down at you, his yellow eyes cold and calculating as they scanned your face. "That's such a shame, Your Highness," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You'll be seeing me more often."

"W—what the heck do you mean by that!?" you demanded, your bewilderment evident in your tone.

"Your mother," he began, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction, "heard about your recent behavior and was quite shocked. When she saw that I possess the proper manners and decorum you seem to lack, she decided I would be the perfect candidate to be your new etiquette teacher." His words hung in the air, leaving you stunned and speechless.

You chuckled nervously, hoping it was some twisted joke. "H-hey... Tell me you're joking. Y-you're joking, right!?" Desperation seeped into your voice as you grabbed his collar harshly, trying to shake the truth out of him.

"I'm afraid not," he replied calmly, his smirk unwavering. "She found out about your behavior towards the maids and your lack of manners, Your Highness."

Anger flared within you at his words, and you tightened your grip on his collar. "So what if I have no manners!? I couldn't care less about those worthless maids! Those 'foods' are nothing but garbage. We don't eat slop like that; it's disgusting! They should've been kicked out of this castle ages ago! Just like you! Just a lowly butler who's probably good at nothing, maybe just some trash my father picked up!" you spat.

"Your words only confirm why I'm here. Perhaps it's time you learned the value of respect and humility your highness."

"No! Fuck off asshole!" you exclaimed, but he paid no heed to your protests. With a swift motion, he forcefully removed your grip on his collar and seized your wrist in a tight grip, his hold unyielding.

You struggled against his grasp, but it was futile. With a determined stride, he barged into your room, his grip still firm as he flung you to the unforgiving floor. A sharp hiss escaped your lips as pain shot through your body upon impact.

As you lay there, vulnerable and in pain, you watched helplessly as he closed the door behind him and locked it, sealing you both in.

He glared down at you, his eyes a piercing yellow that sent shivers down your spine.

"Shall we begin the lesson with your mouth, Your Highness?" His words were laced with a commanding tone as he strode towards you.

"My mouth!? What do you mean by my mouth? Stay away, you filthy vermin!" You attempted to rise, but your legs failed you, leaving you vulnerable on the floor.

With a smirk that sent a chill down your spine, he loomed over you, seizing your chin to meet his gaze forcibly.

"You have such beautiful eyes your highness. Staring at me like that turns me on." he declared, as your gaze involuntarily dropped to his pants, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

"Do you want to see it? See how I'm going to lecture that mouth of yours?" His tone was both mocking and tantalizing as he began to undo his belt, the metallic clink resonating in the tense silence of the room.

"N-no, no! I don't want to see your icky meat!" you protested, but your words fell on deaf ears as he proceeded to remove his belt and push down his underwear.

Your eyes widened in shock as his erect member was revealed before you, Tall and pale white with a crimson hue at the tip, it stood proudly before you, veins pulsing along its length as it throbbed with anticipation.

"It's yours," he declared, his voice thick with desire, "all yours for you to see anytime and anywhere, Your Highness."

"W-wha—?" Your attempt at a coherent response was abruptly stifled as he seized your head, thrusting his cock into your mouth with an aggressive force that left you gasping for air. The sudden intrusion hit the back of your throat, eliciting a choked gurgle of surprise as your eyes widened in shock.

Instinctively, you reached out, grasping onto his thighs for support as you struggled to accommodate his size. Sweat beaded on his brow as he grunted in satisfaction, relishing the sight of you adjusting to his relentless penetration. His grip tightened on your hair, adding to the sensation of his control over you.

"Mhmm, that's a good boy... Taking me all in," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he watched you with a predatory gaze.

"Ngh... Let's begin the lesson, Your Highness." With a deliberate motion, he began to withdraw his cock from your mouth, only to slam it back in with a force that stole your breath away. Your grip on his thighs tightened as tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of pain and submission washing over you as you surrendered to his will.

He moaned in ecstasy, throwing his head back as the overwhelming sensations consumed him. The warmth of your mouth enveloped him, the slickness of your saliva adding to the intensity of his pleasure. With each thrust, he felt himself sinking deeper into bliss, utterly lost in the euphoria of the moment.

As he gazed down at you, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him. Your furrowed brows, the blush that painted your cheeks, the subtle bulge he noticed in your pants – it was all too much, too perfect. In this moment, you belonged to him and him alone.

"Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the fuck out of me. Only you can do that to me and not to anyone else, i don't want your attention to go to anyone but me. You don't belong to anyone but me, M/n. Only me." he declared, his words laced with a possessive fervor as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each motion driving him closer to the edge.

As you gasped for breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth allowing you a moment to recover. Relief flooded through you as you gulped in air, your chest heaving with the effort while a smirk was playing on his lips as he observed your struggle.

With a cruel chuckle, he grasped his cock firmly in his hand and lightly slapped your flushed cheeks with it, Your glare met his amused gaze. Chuckling softly as he seemed to revel in your reaction.

"Day to dusk, I'm going to fuck that bratty attitude out of you, so you better be ready, your Highness."

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Hiii! I love your works. If you could, could you write jealously arisu smut? It can be pre borderlands or during the borderlands. Ty have a great rest of your day!

Jealous, Jealous Girl

requested: yes pairing(s): ryohei arisu x afab!reader, slight mention of arisu playing games with another girl genre: smut warning(s): mentions of silent treatment (reader's behalf), mentions of another girl flirting with arisu and he doesnt shut her down, mentions of the girl giving sexual comments towards arisu, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it), cowgirl, dom!arisu to (slight) dom!reader, orgasm denial, reader is generally really mean in this summary: 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮... word count: 2k a/n: I love this man so much and it's not every day I see a smut with him, so thank you so much for requesting!! have a brilliant rest of your day too my love. Remember to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah! -Cilla

you were annoyed.

annoyed, jealous, infuriated, all of the sorts.

arisu was beginning to play games with a girl. usually, you wouldn’t be as bothered as you were because he always told you the girls he played with either had boyfriends, were lesbian, or definitely weren’t interested in him.

he had told this girl that you and him were together. he had said multiple times and shut her down whenever her comments got a tad bit too uncomfortable, but the bitch never got the hint. she kept flirting with him.

usually you had a fine, level-headed temper, but now you were beginning to wonder if you were going to be able to hold in your anger because of this girl. you had even sometimes been in the room while she was very obviously flirting with your boyfriend. you knew arisu would never stoop so low as to cheat on you, but now that he wasn’t trying to get her to stop with the flirting, you were beginning to challenge your judgement.

you were sat on arisu’s bed as he played his games, as per usual. his dad and brother were both out at work, and the two of you were chilling after a long make-out session. you heard the sound that someone had joined his game, and then you heard the voice. her voice.

it sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, but you kept yourself in check and level-headed.

you tried. you really did. but the girl was flirting again, and arisu was too focused on the game to even care. you cared, you cared a whole lot. you turned over in bed and continued scrolling through your phone. since arisu’s desk was right next to his bed, he placed a hand on your hip for a couple of seconds before bringing it back to his game. you paid no attention.

it was around half an hour later, arisu had finished his game and you were still laying there, ignoring him. it did make you feel a little better that he wasn’t talking to her and ignoring her whenever she flirted with him, but it still annoyed you that he didn’t stop her, especially when the comments were starting to get a bit more sexual.

he put one knee on the bed, it dipped and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your temple.

“you want something to eat?” he mumbles against your skin, you said nothing in return, only continuing to scroll through your phone. you didn’t move away from the kiss though. but arisu did look a bit confused. “baby? did you hear me?” he asked, moving your hair away from your ear, supposing you had headphones in, you didn’t.

when he found out you didn’t, he stood back up from the bed and watched as you ignored him, scrolling and scrolling. you heard him pad out the room, probably going down to the kitchen and making some dinner.

you were right when you saw him come back with two pots of instant noodles. he was holding your favourite flavour, probably with cheese in it since you liked it that way. you glanced at him before going back to your phone, yet again. he held out the pot to you, which you ignored. it smelled good, but you had to ignore it or there would be no point in this. you did think you were going a bit too far, but you wanted to teach him a lesson.

he ate his dinner at his desk, staring between the pot he had put on the edge of the desk, hoping you would turn around and eat something with him, but when he was finished and you still hadn’t eaten anything, he got confused.

he got so confused that the poor guy didn’t know what to do, so he tried a different approach that he knew would get you to at least acknowledge him.

he climbed onto the bed behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. you didn’t fight, nor did you move away from him when he did. arisu got even more confused as you still did nothing, so he put his face into your neck and left hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. you didn’t move, but it tickled so you squirmed a little. you felt him smile against your neck.

“so she acknowledges my kisses but not my five star meal i made or my words?” you still ignore him, stifling a smile that came onto your lips. he sighed when he got no response “guess i’ll have to make you respond then” he said softly into your neck.

you barely registered his hand trailing down from your waist. it trailed over the bare skin of your side, you were wearing a crop-top that barely went past your belly-button, then you had low-waisted jeans. his fingers ignited a trail of fire as they continued downwards, slipping to your front and continuing down from your belly-button.

his other hand that was underneath you helped him with the zipper and button that was keeping your trousers together. he was still leaving kisses down your neck, occasionally sucking and biting as he did so. you bit back a moan.

you tried to focus on your phone, you really did, but it was slipping out of your hand as arisu’s hand was slipping into your trousers in order to take them down. you subconsciously lifted your hips slightly and let arisu take your trousers down.

you almost let a whimper slip past your lips when he ran his index fingers over your clothed pussy. he smirked against your neck when he felt the growing wet patch staining the centre of them. if you didn’t remind yourself why you were mad at him and not talking to him, you would already be moaning around his fingers.

you honestly couldn’t help the way your hips bucked up when he slipped a hand in your panties and ran a slender finger through your folds, gathering your wetness but stopping and removing his hand when he was about to touch your clit. you let out an audible whine at this, and he smirked against your neck.

“tell me how much you want it and maybe i’ll consider giving it to you” he hummed against your skin. you shivered at the feeling, but decided not to give in just yet, so you grabbed his hand and held it in-between your legs before you rocked your hips against it, he laughed and pulled his hand back. “cheeky, you’re gonna have to use your words, not your actions, baby” you whined again.

“please, just make me fucking come” you said, slightly angrily. he laughs again.

“gonna have to be nicer than that, baby” he coos in your ear, you shivered again as his fingers trailed up and down your bare thigh.

“please” you practically whimper.

“good girl” you felt arisu smile and he left one more kiss to your neck before slipping his hand back into your panties.

he looked down and when he saw that you were wearing his favourite panties, he groaned. he then hooked his finger through the waist before he slid your panties down your thighs, you helped him and when your panties were fully off, he slid his hand back up and in-between your thighs. he smirked when you whimpered  as he ran his middle fingers, this time not stopping when his finger slid past your clit, making your hips twitch forwards.

his right hand pulled your thighs apart, slipping his fingers through your folds and teasing your hole, his left hand went to your clit and began circling it. his middle finger eventually pushed inside of your pulsing hole, curling and thrusting. the pleasure was almost unbearable, your hips were starting to move away from his hands. he had to wrap a leg around your hips and pull you back.

his fingers were long and slender which provided you more pleasure than what you could bring yourself, and they made you come long and hard, better than what you could ever do. after all, you were already close, feeling the knot form in your stomach. you were moaning uncontrollably, hips bucking from the stimulation you were getting. arisu held you there, not letting up on his ministrations.

“gonna come- fuck” you whimper, “arisu- gonna come” you warn him. he didn’t seem to care and kept going, or that was what you thought.

seconds later, you were right on the brink of pure ecstasy when arisu took both of his hands back, sucking his fingers clean from your juices before sitting up straight.

“what the fuck was that for?” you almost yell, sitting up next to him.

“you ignore me when i talk to you and make food for you, i ignore your needs to come” he replies with a shrug, “however, if you want to come, you have to earn it for yourself” he says, and when you begin to question him, he looks down at his lap. his cock was hard, showing through his shorts.

you swallow thickly and take your top off, followed shortly by your bra. you then turned to him and undid the strings on his shorts, taking his underwear off with them before taking his shirt off.

you then straddled him, arisu shook his head with a smile at your eagerness. he placed his hands on your hips. you lifted your hips slightly to line his cock up with your hole before sinking down slowly. your mouth fell open in a loud moan, your hands pressed against his shoulders. arisu groaned as you sunk fully down, waiting for you to adjust to him before he helped you to move via his hands on your hips.

you whined and pressed your face into his shoulder when you began to move, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot with every bounce. your thighs could get tired very fast, so he began to help you again when he noticed you beginning to get tired.

that was until you sat down fully, not bouncing but instead moving your hips in circular motions. arisu’s groans were getting louder, as were your moans.

“play with your clit” he tells you, your hand trailed down your body and began to circle your clit. the newfound stimulation made your back arch and head fall back, mouth wide open in a silent moan. you were so full and your clit getting stimulation was almost sending you over the edge.

arisu could feel your walls clenching around his cock, making him groan and rut up into you.

you were moaning his name over and over, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten and juices from your pussy were leaking down his balls to his bed, making a dark patch.

“gonna let me come inside of you, hm?” arisu hummed, holding your hips as he slammed up into you, your moans were so loud even to yourself that you barely heard him.

“yes” you moan “please come inside of me” you were so close that one more thrust would send you over the edge. and it did.

you threw your head back and choked out a moan as liquid spilled from your pussy, going all over his abdomen and bed. arisu felt you clench around you tighter than you ever had before and he came too with a loud groan, his hands on your hips would probably leave marks.

“you still jealous?” he asks.

“how did you-“ you were confused, he wasn’t that observant, was he?

“i know you” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, you lean into his touch. “you don’t need to be jealous, i find her annoying too, but shes a good player. lets get you in the bath”

you both sat in the bath a few minutes later, arisu feeding you the noodles that had been discarded on his desk.

[howi99]

If Jaune and Weiss's relationship was reversed in volume 1

Weiss: (This is the day! I can FEEL it!) *haughty, coughing to get Jaune's attention from his training* Jaune Arc, as you may know, i've been studying you for a while and i've finally come to the conclusion that I, Weiss Schnee, would be the best candidate for you in manners of courtshi-

Jaune: *smiling awkwardly* Sorry, but can we talk later? *Scratch the back of his head* I need to focus on training right now... *Apologetic smile* I hope you don't mind?

Weiss: *who had already bought a truck full of roses, took reservations for the fanciest restaurant and even employed a classical music orchestra to back her up for her songs she was planning to sing for him* B-but can i still take you to din-!?

Pyrrha: *grin waving at her partner* Hey, Jaune! We still have a lot more training to do and all i'm seeing is a lot of slacking off!

Jaune: *chuckle* Ah well, sorry Weiss, gotta go! *Leave with Pyrrha*

Weiss: ... *Falling to her knees, hitting the ground with her fist* Damn it all! My sister's advices were useless yet again! I can't believe it!

Blake: *who was reading her smut nearby* ... Did you try telling him you like him directly?

Weiss: *horrified* But he must be the one declaring his flame to me! A schnee could NEVER stoop so low as to grovel and ASK, no, PLEAD for love!

Blake: ... You're kinda pathetic, but in an endearing way. *Pat her back* I'm sure you'll get him one day.

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.