★﹐冬のはなし．﹗﹑ KUSUO SAIKI

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off those gorgeous legs, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near. 

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

The Naga’s Teasing

Pairing: Naga x f!human reader

Summary: you struggle to stay composed during a professional videomeeting while your naga boyfriend secretly fingers and licks you under the table.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, naga smut, fingering and oral (fem receiving), silent teasing. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The camera was on, displaying many little boxes with your colleagues live on the laptop screen. You were in the middle of a remote meeting, sitting in your home office, hands gripping the desk tightly. You were supposed to be paying attention to the presentations yet you could hardly contribute to the discussions.

You weren’t supposed to be so flushed, your skin tingling with arousal.

You weren’t supposed to be struggling to stifle your moans and keep everyone from hearing.

You had such a hard time keeping your composure because your naga boyfriend had decided to tease you. He had slithered under the table, opened your legs wide, dragging up your dress and tugging your panties to the side. You were helpless to stop him; you couldn’t react in the process of the business meeting.

Hidden from view, your naga tortured you in the sweetest and most shameless way. He spread the lips of your pussy and laved your inner folds. The sensations made you shiver. The hum of your colleagues in the background faded as you were licked and sucked to the breaking point. Biting back one gasp after the other, you fisted your pen, clutching it tightly.

You tried to focus on anything but the wicked slide of his tongue but it was impossible.

Especially when he thrust a thick finger in your depths, you pussy squelching softly in your ears.

You inhaled sharply.

“What are your thoughts on this proposal, chief manager? Is that good way to promote our new product?”

That was you! The CEO was talking to you!

You swallowed down a moan. Blinked. Refocused.

“I… I think the pro-posal is magnificent. It aligns with the goals of the co-company.”

The strokes intensified, a second finger surging deep inside your depths.

“We…hm… should pro-proceed with that idea,” you stuttered. It was increasingly difficult to keep talking and keep your breathing under control.

Several other colleagues chimed in their agreement but your focus wavered when your naga boyfriend slid up his tail slipping under your dress, his warm scales brushing against your sensitive skin. The appendage found its way under your bra, circling your nipple while his mouth suckled your pussy, his fingers thrusting steadily inside your pussy.

You clenched your teeth.

Oh, when this meeting was over you were going to have his ass for this.

Shifting restlessly on your seat, you clenched your fists on the table, digging your nails into the hard surface. His tongue licked your clit with precise strokes, the pleasure increasing. You were drenched and so close. Damn…. You were about to climax right there in the middle of the video meeting.

Breath hitching, you bit your lip hard and rode the waves of pleasure, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Your toes curled inside your slippers, and you pressed your thighs together in a vain attempt to stop him. Your mate responded silently by curling his fingers just right and fucking you through your climax, making stars dance in your vision. His tail had also sneakily slithered to your other nipple, circling the bud and pulling.

“Any other questions?” the CEO’s voice came from the laptop.

Gulping, you shook your head, all too eager to end the video call. A little hazy, you answered, praying that no one noticed the faint tremor in your voice, “N-no, none from me.”

Finally, the videocall ended with unanimous agreement.

With a soft nudge, you rolled your chair away from your naga boyfriend and stood up on shaky legs, you heart still hammering form the intense release. He slithered out from beneath the desk, his face super smug. You shot him a glare and were about to speak when he pulled you to him, clutching you against his broad chest. His long tail curled around your body, trapping you against him.

“You are a fucking tease,” you said, lightly slappping his shoulder.

“You did so well, darling,” he whispered, his voice a silky purr. “Behaved so well while I fingered your slick pussy and rubbed your swollen clit.”

“Let go,” you muttered weakly.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his breath warm against your ear.

Follow for more delicious smut and turn on the notifications!!! See ya!!

Celebrating season 2 release🎐

“Daddy sing!”

Youe three year old daughter squeals, standing on her tippy toes as she grabs the end of the couch as a support to stand up. Bouncing on her feet as she approaches her daddy. Requesting him to sing and you awkwardly cough, suppressing the laugh threatening to spill from your lips.

Knowing your daughter who takes after her father. It wasn't any good and you're here to witness that moment. “You want daddy to sing?” You asked your toddler. Your daughter enthusiastically nods as you take her hand to assist her in standing, there's a wobble on her steps but manages to balance on her own before letting her go to walk towards her daddy.

Her soft, fluffy white hair moves in sync with her actions. Her red eyes gleaming with mischief, although innocent and she still have not quite grasp what her actions is, it was obvious that she takes after her father.

“Daddy sing!” Your daughter demanded again and who is Sylus to deny what his daughter wanted.

It is known that Sylus, your husband have many talents but singing isn't one of them. His singing voice can be described as unique but to his daughter, his spoiled little princess finds it beautiful or rather entertaining.

Sylus picks up his daughter and placed her on his lap. The same blood ruby colored eyes stares at his own. Sylus gaze softens at his little princess and then he began to sing.

It didn't take long before his daughter bursts in fits of laughter. Her infectious cute giggles filling the room. “You're making fun of your daddy's voice, princess.”

“Nuh uh.” You daughter shakes her head in denial but her body vibrates with laughter. “Sing again, daddy!” Sylus obediently complies with her daughter's request.

As he sang, he glances at the mother of his children. You were laughing too while you rock the baby to sleep cradled in your arms. At least, he was entertaining both of his princesses. The little one in your arms is yet to join the moment. For now it is enjoying the luxury of sleep.

It is said that his singing voice is enough to make babies cry but to his daughter, it made her laugh. Similar to her mother who literally cried during your pregnancy with your daughter if he doesn't sing. He guesses his daughter must have gotten used to it as he sang in your round, pregnant belly.

Well, you love it. Sylus sings lullabies to you when you can't fall asleep and before you knew it, you wanted to hear him sing to you every night and your daughter wanted it too.

Sylus, the fearsome leader of the N109 Zone and runs the underground world is a father and husband who sings lullabies whenever her daughter wanted. It's hard to imagine he does that but you'll never find out. You'll be carrying it to the grave.

jason todd x reader

[jason had one rule, and you couldn’t listen ]

MDNI !!! (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) .ᐟ ⊹₊ ⋆ 18+ [5k word count ]

lowercase intended!!

JASON’s RULE — you've talked about it before, you've both agreed. no toys. a few here and there to make it interesting and to test eachothers limits, and to have fun, but the main agreement was no dilldo.

you’d tease the idea just to get a reaction out of him of course. laying down on his chest and casually bringing it up. “so id been thinking of a new toy to try.” you slowly and quietly say to him. his blue - toned irises gave you an unsure look, but proceeded to let you ask with a simple response “shoot!”

“what if we tried a dil—“ “no.” “I didn’t even fini—“ “exactly because I already know what you’re going to say. and the answer is fucckkk no, but please doll i dare you to get one. i would love for you to face the consequences,” and u went silent, he took that as a sign you understood him, not to push him or test him, but deep down he dared you, and it was tempting.

jason did not appreciate the idea of anything other than his cock shape ingrained inside you. he believes your pussy was made for him. the first time he pushed inside you, he almost came. you were so tight, your delicate vaginal walls squeezing him and sucking him in all the right ways. he was melting at the feeling of everything all at once and couldn't help but whimper at the sight of you. “fu..fuck mmnn..(y/n)”

his eyes trained on you're smooth plump thighs wrapped around his waist pushing him in deeper, locking him in. while your latest nail set sacredly rooting into his bulky biceps while his wide hands slowly trace your curves. the way you didn't have to say anything, it was the way your eyes said everything. how desperate, yet secure you felt with him. he couldn’t help but worship you in a corrupted way. he needed to bruise you. having you laid out in front of him like a blank canvas. he had creative freedom to color your neck and chest shades of reds and purples, leaving these beautiful marks all around you to show his art off to the world.

he loved sucking on your sizable tits too, the way he would gingerly bite on your nipple just hard enough to make you slightly gasp. his hand would be carelessly tugging and twisting your other nipple making sure it wasn’t neglected. squeezing as much of the fat of your chest as he could even when they’d start bouncing at the content movement of him thrusting into you. when twisting your nipple with his teeth, he looked up and saw you covering your mouth. and this irritated him. ‘thwack’ smacking your already sensitive breast making you gasp. “don’t piss me off doll, cover your mouth again and i’ll stop everything” nodding your head in agreement “verbal response sweetheart,” he said moving his hand towards your forearm and pinning the part of your arm to the bed.

“mnnhn y..yes.. fuck.. i.. nuhhg just dont want to be to loud..” you said running your other hand through his scalp making him shiver in delight, slowly pushing harder into you. “i need you loud baby, need gotham to hear you, i want a goddamn noise complaints tomorrow morning, i.. jesus.. nhhg.. dont care how loud you are..” he sighed into your neck, bucking upwards deeper to a distant warm spongy corner inside you. “nnnmghfuck.. jason.. mnm” tightening and releasing around him. “so.. fuckkin..warm.. god..damnit”he groaned, moderately twitching inside you.

jason couldnt get enough of you’re praise, hiccuping how quintessential his cock was to you, he appreciated how well you listened and babbled on about his efforts to please you. “j-jason..jay baby.. please.. please.. so good, your so gorgeous.. god..fuck, solucky.. i- auhggh-,” you’d whine. “shit.. a dildo wouldn’t compare to you.. a pathetic peice of silicone w..wouldn’t compare to your cock b..baby, such a..a pretty cock”

“i know, doll” he chuckled lowly watching you writhe against his lower abdomen while he roughy played and massaged your clit, feeling the slick and creamy texture of both of your pre cum making a ivory ring around your pussy. “jay… baby.. f..faster please.. pleaseplease i need it.. I’ve been good!!” you begged, pushing your hip harder against him feeling him slow down, sensing him watch your every single move while he just played in pre cum. “.. jason..fuck…mnuggh mnm”

“would a didlo make you this sticky, so disgustingly wet i can feel u dripping down to my balls right now, huh sweetheart?” he said showing you his thick goopy fingers, then sucking them dry. it was starting to become a struggle to talk, trying to form a sentence would ultimately end up with you moaning and mumbling. and when he notices how limp you were starting to come, he decided to finally make you fully cum on his cock. he has been edging himself for a while, only slowing down certain times because of how quickly he was about to cum. you were his weakness, everything about you make him want to cum.

speeding up, pounding into you relentlessly you’d felt a  familiar yet unusual sensation in your lower abdomen. a warm feeling that you felt your raw clit puff to even more. “cum for me. fuck, please.. p..please.. doll cum on me… mmn cum on my cock, you need to… i need you to.” jason whimpered next to your ear. the squelching sound driving jason crazy he needed more of it. he lifted both of your legs and threw them over his shoulder, never slipping out of you. you were forever grateful for this position. because the new angle it let jason kiss your cervix wall. beautifully designed for jason, his cock missed it. but as much as he loved it, he enjoyed pushing deeper and mistreating, boundaries just to go through you’re cervix even more.

“jay.. im gonna.. fuckfuckfuckplease…mmmghh” with the movement of his dick, fingers and his desperate mouth whimpering that he needed you, you squirted on his chest and lower abdomen, dripping down his balls to the completely ruined bed sheets, not stopping and causing you to jolt from the overwhelming sensation, tighten around him harder almost pushing him out. “holy.. holy f..fuck..mnnh shiit (y/n).. good girl..fuuck,” jason panted. while he gripped your hips leaving indents of his finger nails into you, keeping you in place. Inhaling the warm scent of your juice while your pussy made a heavenly squelching noise. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head and his previously steady pace, now turned into a sloppy rhythm ‘plap, plap, plap, plap’ with the feeling of you still slightly squirting on him. jason finally came. hard. he couldn’t stop rutting Into you, overstimulating you, causing you to forcible convulse and tremble your whole body. each demanding thrust he unforgivably pushed Into your tried body, he couldn’t stop cumming . pumping into you large ropes of thick cum until he collapsed, losing vision. stuck inside of you trapping you inbetween his huge biceps, panting heavily.

*.ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

but unfortunately, that kind of passion was a couple months ago.

as confident as jason was about you never needing a dildo, he forgot how difficult and tight his schedule was. of course you’d see him maybe two times a week, but it wasnt like it use to be. the passion creeped into small excuses of ‘im to tired’ or ‘maybe tomorrow?’ which you’d overthought about plenty of times. was he uninterested with you now? what changed? you were started to feel neglected. always picking the vigilante life instead of his girl. you knew what was to come with his lifestyle, it was hard enough to spend time together, let alone any intimate time together.

"im sorry doll, patrol is probably going to take longer tonight! ill talk to u soon <3" he texts. texts. he didnt even have the nerve to call. plus it's been tough communicating. when it's spotty conversations and repetitive "how was ur day" then him taking hours to respond, you started getting frustrated. needy. so you decide to spoil yourself . because you have needs, and they must be fulfilled. even if it’s not the same, you were getting impatient with your own fingers not being able to reach far enough or cramping up.

so a few days later you see a couple notifications on your phone.

[3 messages] jay🫀

jay🫀: hey doll

jay🫀: i can call tonight, it’s been slow

jay🫀: just call whenever you got time

[ mail notifications]

[ your order has been delivered 💌 ]

one notification you were more interested in than the others. you hopped off the couch, put your phone in a back pocket and made your way to your apartment lobby towards the mailboxes. reasonable size mail boxes for living in gotham, usually they are confined and only fit paper mail, but your apartment was a little bit nicer. the only thing was the front building doors were broke, letting in anyone which was concerning. while grabbing your key, you feel your phone buzz some more, but you knew you’d get to it later.

and there you saw it, a cute, big pink box. you smiled and closed the mailbox, locking it and racing upstairs. the rush of excitement and anxiety washed over you. of course you, felt like you deserved this, but the thought of jason finding out scared you a little, but slightly turned you on too.

you opened the box with a switchblade jason had purchased you a while ago. and inside there it was, a realistic natural light skinned toned silicone dildo, you tried to get one to match jason’s size, but.. you couldnt find anything as girthy..

you place the box rear the trash and grabbed the dildo and are impressed with how realistic it looked. it had veins and this mushroom tip was pinker than jason’s. “wow, this.. is crazy,” you say to yourself. it’s not like you havent see a dildo, it was just the fact of how much time probably went into this.

walking into your room you start undressing, taking youre phone out of your pocket you see jason tried to call you five minutes ago. youre stomach dropped a bit and just tried to psychic yourself out and forget about it, you’d call him in a couple minutes. you laid down on the plush bed with your phone next to you that you lazily threw close to your thighs and then slowly started opening your legs, your nervous hands making their way to your clit. circling sweet motions to the damp bundles of nerves. slowly breathing and closing your eyes imagining it was jason’s thick fingers.

“hmm jay..mhmh” you sighed, feeling the clit slightly puff. picking up the pace, you rub and tug on the sensitive nerve until you feel your pussy start to drip ever so slightly. making you trail your dampened fingers towards your vaginal opening. “mnhphm..jason..” sliding your middle finger inside yourself, feeling the tight gummy wall suck on your finger. “fuck..hnm” your middle finger casually building a pace you found yourself enjoying. adding your ring finger to help break up the tight walls, scooping and pushing yourself further in causing pretty groans from you. “mmnholy..shit.. fu..fuck ja.jason”

imagining jason was what helped you the most. the way he touched you and loved finger fucking you. watching you cry while he barely moved his fingers. replaying memories of what he’d praise to you before “one more finger baby.. you can take it, youre doing so good for me… youre still so tight fuck baby…be a good girl and hold your legs open for me.. just like that uh huh… gotta put my index finger in okay doll, fuck,” — and that’s what you’d done. moved positions and fully on your back with your legs in the air, penetrating yourself with three fingers quickly rushing in and out of you. moaning jason’s name. becoming clingy for his cock, begging into the space of your room about how much you needed him.

with a ‘pop‘ you withdrew your finger and grabbed the dildo, with a feeling of liquid dripping down to the bed. lining the thick toy with your now moistened hole. you knew to carefully push it in, slowly inch by inch so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, which was funny considering jason’s cock was bigger.

fully inside, you paused while you caught your breath. having to be in control for the first time in a while with a dildo you were unsure and forgot how much work you had to do. you were starting to sweat a little, having it deep enough to the point the fake balls laid stiffly by your anus.

lazily pulling it out and back in with the somewhat familiar sting making you sigh. pushing it deep enough to make you sing. “uaaghh fuck! jason..hmph..” repeatedly fucking yourself with a toy you were never supposed to have. that jason dared you would be consequences. thinking about what jason would do, made you squeeze the dildo, how much trouble you’d be in.

and it was like you manifested him. as so on as you were thinking about all the trouble you’d be in. he was calling you. that ‘ill call him in a couple minutes’ turned into fifteen extra minutes. you panicked hitting the red ‘decline’ button with blurry eyes. and started to speed up the thrusting and ramming so you’d cum quickly and call him back like nothing happened.

or so thought you. turns out you accidentally answered him. your teary eyes deceived you when you frantically tried to end the call. and the first thing jason had the displeasure of hearing was the familiar ‘plah, plah, plah” and you whining “hurry..fuck.. fucking piece of rubber dick…” crying out, slowly regretting the purchase. you couldn’t seem to cum. as roughly and impatient you were with yourself including the sound of sex in the air, it just wasn’t the same.

but! how sweet of you, you know jason’s favorite color was red, so that’s what you made him see.. red. he had tried calling you letting you know it was so slow, tim and dick didn’t mind he left early to be with you. because he missed you.

but that feeling was immediately exchanged with enrage.his face dropping at the mention of a dildo. he kept you on the line and muted himself so you wouldn’t hear him hang up. sprinting to his motorcycle, not giving a fuck about his helmet. he shot off into the night. racing through streets and weaving through cars going 90 miles per hour. all while he knew you were on the other line, still sliding that amateur peice of silicone inside yourself. it genuinely pissed him off. — luckily for jason you didn’t live far. and with the mix of rage and his dangerous driving, he’d gotten to your apartment rapidly fast. what would’ve taken fifteen-ish minutes to get to you, only took him about five minutes.

jason climbed off his ride, stomping on the pavement with his phone to his ear with the most irritated and frustrated look. he knew your apartment front doors were broke, meaning he had easy access to enter. which he wouldn’t just broke them himself in all honesty. “nnuggh…jay..damnit..fuckfuck,” was the sad annoyed sigh you’d unintentionally been whining into jason’s ear. “ja..jasson..nhhunghg..please..”

his heavy footsteps echoing through the stairs of your apartment, which everyone could hear — it was weird he’d actually come in like a normal person for once instead of climbing through your window.

Intentionally, of course, so he’d be able to catch you in the act.

he’d finally made it to your apartment door. grabbing the key from the top of the door frame. and quietly entering, which was hard considering how badly he wanted to slam the door. slowly walking in and closing the door behind him, he locked it then processed to walk towards the kitchen— spotting an empty large pink box by the trash can.

“jesus christ,” jason said to himself, then perking up at the sound of your moans. when he said wanted a noise complaint a while ago— he’d meant he’d be the only one to make you scream like that to your neighbors. and it aggravated him even more that he could feel his bulge start to grow in his pants. cussing to himself, but your beautiful voice always made his dick twitch. just a simple ‘i love you’ would make him stretch his underwear, filling up the little amount room he already had left.

walking closer to your room, the faint sound of you fucking yourself could be heard. “so close..fuck..nggh..socloseplease” which jason’s dick twitched at, slowly fatten his pants enough to make him semi uncomfortable, but the moment he heard you were close he opened the bedroom door slightly to see you holding one of your thighs up while this mediocre looking dick was plunging into you. your eyes sealed shut, trying to focus on cumming. you’d usually been creaming on jason’s cock by now, and you were just now getting close to your first orgasm. and jason knew that too.

he opened the door and quietly walked to you, previously loud and aggressive steps, now quiet and calculated. “jason..jay..fuck..jay baby…” and pant his name three times, he shall appear…and under any other circumstances he wouldn’t be standing over you pissed off as he was. showing you his phone with it still on call. and that’s when it hits you, gasping because he scared you plus you could perfectly see how livid yet turned on he was, but also because at the same moment you hit the perfect spot so many times.. you came.

“nuhhhgghaa…jasonbaby.. s..sosorry.. plea—“ you lost your breath the moment jason unexpectedly and carelessly tore the toy out of you. hearing the suction of the dildo pop out of you mid orgasm, now jason holding onto the saturated silicone. watching your vagina breath open and close while liquid spilled out of you. “jason im s—“ “don’t. don’t say another goddamn word (y/n). i mean it.” his deep voice hissed at you. “this? this half-pint fucking fake dick made you cum? huh doll? you’re joking.. no you can’t be because i just witnessed it. fucking christ (y/n).. one rule, you couldn’t even listen to that…let’s compare huh” he rambled starting to unbuckle his belt one handed, combo shoving his pants and underwear down kicking them to random side of your room. all still while he was gripping the toy.

his dick hung heavily, beautifully. you’d missed the sight of just looking at it making your mouth tingle and water in delight. sitting up more you couldn’t keep your eyes off his cock. making jason twitch enough to make it move on its own. you started reaching out to touch him ‘whack’ “don’t test me right now doll.. now look” he trailed off, grabbing his dick slowly stroking it in front of your face. he lined the light colored dildo next to his own real and thick cock “and to think you were moaning my name with this wimpy piece of shit, now you’re pushing limits. fucking disgusting,” and he wasn’t even wrong. the sizes were very different. and it was completely noticeable, jason throwing it against a wall while it made a ‘thud’ sound. “one rule (y/n) that was it.”

. “jay can i say someth-“ “no” “you need to stop cutting me off jason.—let me talk, please baby.” and he went quiet. his anger slightly fading. and you took his silence as he was listening, willingly able to understand everything. all while he was watching from above you. “i know i shouldn’t have gotten it—“

“damn straight” “but! you have been extremely busy and distant these past couple weeks, you made it seem like you didn’t care about me anymore. your dry texts, not calling anymore, basically dick riding gothams idiots criminals then actually letting me dick ride you… i just miss you jay and im sorry i didn’t say something sooner,”

that’s when he grabbed your face and gently kissed your lips, humming soft ‘im sorry’s’ to you. and laying you down delicately on the bed. “im sorry too doll, i had been neglecting you.. fuck..i love you so fucking much it’s insane, i just blow at showing it and communicating properly doll, because honestly, you’re the only person i will work on things for, because you’re all i will ever need or want.” he said caressing your face then kissing your forehead. “but i still needed to punish you.” “what ?— jason!!..fuck!!”

without warning he slammed his cock into you, — making you groan loudly “you won’t be cumming anymore tonight, doll. im going to make sure of it, as much as i love you.. umnnh..shit.. im a man of my word..and actions have consequences” not hesitating at all to basically use you as he pleases. not caring if he hits your ‘g’ spot. he wants to cum inside you selfishly as much as he can all while denying you that pleasure of your own release.

jason was stretching you out even more than that toy ever could, his cock perfectly ingraining back into you. “you..can’t be serious..” you groaned

“dead serious, doll.” he chuckled “tonight, no clit playing, no pampering, and no holding back—enjoy it or don’t, you won’t be the one cumming” and like that he dives to your lips like a hungry animal, while you make delicious little sounds and respond with the same hunger, sparking a fire in his belly. making his face flush. while your hard nails were placed on his shoulder you leisurely started digging into him. dragging them down his back attempting to leave any indication how great he was fucking you. making jason whimper into your mouth causing you to squeeze around him at the hypnotic sound.

loving the feel of your plush skin pudge through his fingers. tightening his grip as the soft sound of you mumbling sweet nothings into his ear making him speed up his pace. recklessly grinding into you at a harsh pace enough to make you beg jason “jay.. please..please can i-”

“fuck off” his voice deep and laced with a warning tone, smacking your upper thigh with his palm, making you clench around him. “don’t think about it doll..i swear to god..”

his pace unbearable, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cling to him. praying he cums soon, before you do accidentally. his nails kneading into ur hips while grinding, finding the perfect spot that makes him tingle. his hands start to slowly gravitate towards your tits, he starts sucking on one side, harshly biting down on the nipple causing you to moan out in pain. “i know your close.. so goddamn tight.. jesus.. don’t fucking cum (y/n).” he said smacking your tit, casually going back to biting down on the sensitive nerve. while his unsympathetic grip on your other tit squeezing down and gripping at the nipple pulling at it and releasing it a couple times, making you even more sensitive. just to hear your voice call out into the night about how great he was making you feel. “fucking love your tits” mumbling into them while his heavy hips wouldn’t let up on slamming into your pelvis.

jason was actually never a selfish partner, he actually cared about always making you cum first, and it was like muscle memory to make you cum, but for the first time he was in ecstasy just fucking you stupid- beautifully abusing your vagina, and trying to punish you in the best way he knew. all while he got to painfully play with your podgy breast. smacking, sucking and squeezing them until he couldn’t get enough. “fuck..doll..nghh.. (y/n) fuck...”

his face covered messily in his own saliva from making out with your tit, cupping it with his bulky hand. sucking and releasing, while watching you groan that you want to cum, how nice it would be if you both came together. but jason’s eyes were dark and unamused. he let you rambling on for a minute or two, until he started to get annoyed. this was your punishment, and he would forgive you after it. and right now, jason didn’t want to hear it.

his free hand roamed up towards your throat, and he started to choke you. roughly squeezing and releasing his grip causing all your nonsense remarks into blissful whimpers. making you so tightly trap jason’s dick, making it difficult to thrust so deeply “squeeze me some more doll, mhm..mn im close..” jason said panting, a warm sensation in his stomach turning into a knot like feeling. “harder doll.. c’mon please.. fuckfuck..mhm..i know you can” he said his face now near your ear, and his hand still squeezing your throat. listening to you gasp and whimper to him, while squeezing his dick the best you could, wanting to cum so painfully. “mhm just like that..nnugg..mnm fuck..gonna cum inside..”

and after a few harsh thrust he moaned while warm ropes of cum were filling you to the brim, with each sensitive thrust he was cumming inside of you, never wanting to stop. his hand releasing from your neck, slowly moving towards your clit, ever so slightly circling the bundle of nerves making you so close to the edge. while his head was inbetween your neck biting down and sucking at the soft skin whimpering and softly rutting into you.

and after a few long seconds jason pulled out, watching as the base of his cock slip out you, painted a silky white and still semi hard. out of breath, he watched as your pussy was leaking cum and your clit still puffy and neglected. “so beautiful..”

putting his fingers up to your pussy, he started to fuck his cum back inside of you. watching as you look so defeated. “jay..” “mmn yes doll” he said making eye contact softly scooping his cum back inside you as much as he could. fingering it back in deeply, pressing down on ur puffy clit with his thumb. memorizing the layout of your pussy so carefully.

“can i please cum” you asked, giving your best pleading eyes, reaching out to hold his cheek and caress him. knowing how difficult it was for him to say no to you, know how badly he always wants you to feel satisfied, jason took his hand away from your pussy and showed you his three slick fingers.

“nope, but you can taste mine if you want” he said licking his index “not bad actually” he said with the most shit eating grin you’d ever seen.

and he finally his vision wasn’t red anymore, but he definitely would always live up to a man of that always kept his word.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

my first writing something like this! (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

was a little long! my apologies, but i hope you enjoyed!! :3

have a great day/night!! xx

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑁𝑎𝑔𝑎

Warning: sexual content, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, eggs, kidnapped, biting (twice), possessive, dirty talk, two cocks, big cocks, calls you "human" and "little human".

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Yandere Naga who used to live in the forest like a king (no. not really) until he was captured and brought to a nature reserve.

Yandere Naga who doesn't like humans at all, always lets out threatening hisses and tries to attack the caretakers who enter his territory to leave him food or clean up his messes.

Yandere Naga who had already planned creative ways to get rid of his new caretaker (just like he did with the last ones) but what he doesn't expect is that it would be such a cute and delicious thing.

Yandere Naga who stares at you when you enter his territory to clean the place and leave him food, he narrows his yellow eyes, his pupils contract into thin slits and sticks out his forked tongue to taste the air —your smell... you smell delicioussss... like a mate...

Yandere Naga who from that day on stares at you every time you enter his territory lying on his rock, his eyes follow all your movements, he acts docile around you without hissing at you or trying to attack you, which causes the other caretakers to congratulate you for achieving the impossible, for making him adapt to you so quickly...

Yandere Naga who manages to identify at what moment you have your fertile cycles and creates a plan to make you his partner and mother of his offspring, he only needs to catch you off guard when you enter his cage for your daily chores, he must act when the other caretakers are not around.

Yandere Naga who can execute his plan with relative ease thanks to the fact that he became more "tame" that made everyone around lower their guard including you, one day when you enter his cage to clean he slides towards you quickly and wraps his tail around you tightly sliding quickly into the interior of his cave.

He drops you onto a nest made of branches, leaves and what look like old blankets, a clear attempt to make the place more comfortable, without giving you time to analyze what's happening he slides towards you, getting between your legs, his scales brushing the fabric of your pants and he sticks out his forked tongue sniffing the air before speaking.

"Your delicious rubber... like ripe fruit, I want to take a good bite out of you..."

"Wait! Wait! You can't do this! The other caretakers will notice that I'm not there, they'll come looking for me and when they find me they'll take me outside, they'll punish you if you do anything to me!"

Your voice tries to be firm but it's clearly shaky, he looks at you with his yellow eyes that narrow a little at your words, he hisses leaning over you until his face is right in front of yours, your breaths mix and he stares into your eyes without blinking, his words make your blood run cold.

"I will kill anyone who dares to come here to try to take you away from me. I will crush them until their bones break and their eyes pop out of their sockets, you are mine human~"

He hisses softly when your warm hands rest on his cold chest trying to push him away from you in a panic, he smiles at your fighting attitude and although I wish I could see more of that attitude unfortunately you are right that the other caretakers will start looking for you when they notice your absence so he must be fast, he grabs your head firmly tilting your neck to the side he opens his mouth and leans down sinking his sharp fangs into your soft neck making you let out a moan, he uses the aphrodisiac in his venom to make me more submissive and to make your body go crazy.

"What did you do..? Are you going to kill me..?"

"What?! Kill you?! Of course not! It's an aphrodisiac, it won't kill you, it will just make your body loosen up so it can receive my cocks, silly human~"

He smiles playfully as his venom quickly takes effect, he can feel your body heat skyrocketing, he sticks out his forked tongue which writhes as he smells your excitement permeating the air in the cave, he sees you writhing beneath him clearly uncomfortable and in pain from the effect of the aphrodisiac, he coos at you as he proceeds to quickly remove that ugly and rough uniform you're wearing and does the same with your underwear, his eyes studying your flushed naked body.

"Such a pretty human~ you smell so fertile I can't wait to lay my eggs inside you~"

"It hurts... please–"

He smiles as you can only whimper shakily, he rubs your dripping cunt his slender fingers tracing circles on your wet bud delighting in the way you shudder and your breathing becomes more labored, willing to not waste any more valuable time his scales seem to part and two terrifyingly large cocks reveal themselves making you shudder despite your daze but he chuckles as he takes one of his cocks in his hand bringing it closer to your swollen cunt.

"Don't be afraid human, your body was made to receive my cocks, you will enjoy it~"

He lets out a deep hiss as he slides his fat cock into your pussy, fascinated by the warmth of your insides that embraces him deliciously. You, on the other hand, are left breathless as you feel his cock stretching your poor walls as far as it will go, making its way into your channel, and the sensation is a confusing mix of pain and pleasure that makes you want to cry. He hits bottom and you feel his cock deep inside your uterus while his other cock rests on your stomach, staining it with precum.

"You feel so warm human~ I've never felt anything like this with any woman of my kind, I knew you and I were destined~"

He hisses and without giving you time to think he starts to thrust into you over and over again he pulls out his cock leaving just the tip inside before thrusting into your pussy again with a hard thrust, the sound of his thrusts and your moans fill the cave echoing off the walls, your pussy squirts on his cock and you feel dizzy at the delicious sensation his cock gives you, his scales scrape your thighs but that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock hits your cervix over and over again without slowing down or showing mercy, you're reaching the top when suddenly he stops making you let out a pitiful moan but he silences you with a playful hiss.

"Don't worry human you'll reach your climax~ but first I have to fit both of my cocks inside you~"

He laughs as you just let out a pathetic "uh..?" too fucked out to think, he pulls his cock out of your tight pussy leaving just the tip before guiding his other cock inside, both of his members slowly entering your pussy making you arch your back and let out a high pitched cry, you feel as if an arm is being shoved into your battered pussy, he senses your discomfort so he begins to rub tight circles on your mound trying to relax you, when he bottoms out your eyes roll back in your head, he takes a moment before he begins to slowly move as your walls squeeze him so hard.

"You're too tight on me— I'll give you some more of my venom to relax you human, that'll help us out a lot"

He wastes no time in leaning down to your neck biting just above the mark of his other bite, he injects you with a larger amount of aphrodisiac poison than before which causes the effect to be instantaneous, he feels your walls loosen little by little and your juices begin to drip making a mess and then you can't help but smile as he begins to move again, his cocks ram into you mercilessly he grabs your hips to hold you better while he listens to the high pitched moans that escape from your open mouth the erotic sight makes him move faster.

"That's it~ you take me so well little human~ keep it up~"

He praises you even though he's not sure you're listening to anything he's saying, he still keeps moving non-stop admiring the bulge that forms in your stomach every time he thrusts into you, his heads hitting your bruised cervix over and over again feeling himself getting closer to the limit he can feel you getting closer too by the way your pussy tightens on his cocks, he can feel your walls throbbing and a few seconds later you cum your juices dripping down wetting his cocks and scales, your pussy tightens him like a vice which takes him to the limit he gives you a few erratic thrusts until he cums inside you deep inside your pussy.

"Yessss~ very good little human~ take my eggs!~ keep my offspring inside this womb and give me beautiful children~"

Your nails dig into his arms when you feel something round the size of a tennis ball slide from one of his cocks into your uterus that stretches painfully to receive it, eggs. You sob when another egg follows the same path and another, another, another. You lose count of how many eggs he lays inside you, you can't do anything but receive them, when he finishes laying eggs his other cock fills you with sperm, you stay like that for a while when he pulls out you are sore, tired and uncomfortably full, your belly is so big it seems like you are nine months pregnant, he wipes the tears from your cheeks and kisses your lips looking into your eyes.

"Don't cry little human, you did very well I'm very proud of you. I put all my eggs in your womb and fertilized them I'm sure all of them will gestate without any problem... in a few months you'll be a mother, but for now sleep little human, I'll be here when you wake up~"

Exhausted and unable to do anything else you obey, you close your eyes and let Morpheus' arms wrap around you, he watches with adoration as your chest rises and falls gently, he decides to lie down next to you, he pulls you to his firm chest and wraps his tail around you protectively enjoying your body heat, the tip of his tail caresses your swollen belly and he murmurs in a dark voice.

"I will protect you and our young with my life, I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me or tries to hurt any of you, it's a promise my little human~♡."

— Borrowed time, part 4

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“Use me.”

word count = 8.5k

i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over <3

also, i finally got to write the scene i wanted to 😭—took me over 10k words to get here but ugh finallyyyy

part 1 | masterlist

Peace has never felt more profound. Wrapped in the quiet hush of evening, the cool hum of the air conditioner, and the soft duvet cocooning your body, the weight of the world loosens its grip. The storm of thoughts, the heaviness pressing against your ribs—it all quiets, dissolving into the stillness.

Only when left alone, surrendered to the depths of sleep, do you finally feel light. Free. At ease.

But of course, peace was never meant to last. Not when you agreed to this trip.

Three knocks at the door. A soft beep of the lock.

“Yn? Are you still sleeping?”

MC’s voice pulls you from the haze of slumber, gentle but insistent. The mattress dips slightly as she steps closer.

You groan, turning away from the sound, but she only huffs.

“It’s already seven. You haven’t eaten anything all day.” Concern laces her words as she reaches out, pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. A soft smile tugs at her lips. “You’re not burning up anymore.”

Blinking against the lingering blur of sleep, you rub your eyes, squinting up at her.

“Mhmm,” you mumble, barely coherent.

The tension in her shoulders eases at your response, the worry fading as a familiar brightness returns to her face.

“Here—eat.” She sets a bowl in your hands, warmth seeping through the ceramic. Steam rises, carrying the scent of something unmistakably familiar.

Dark green seaweed sways in golden broth, delicate strands floating between pieces of soft tofu.

Your brows furrow. “Where did you get this?”

“Caleb made it.” She grins. “He was adamant about you finishing every last drop, so you better eat up.”

The words settle heavily in your chest.

You know this dish.

It’s the same soup you once made for him when he was too sick to get out of bed, voice hoarse, fever clouding his mind. The same one he had groggily murmured was the best thing he had ever tasted.

The warmth of the memory seeps in before you can stop it.

Back then, his voice had been hoarse, barely above a whisper, thick with exhaustion.

“Caleb, you should eat.”

“Mmnh… not hungry…” He mumbled, shifting away from the dish in your hands, cheek pressed against the pillow.

You huffed, exasperated but unwilling to let him get away with it. “I promise it’ll make you feel better. Seaweed soups are the best for colds. Trust me.”

It took a few more tries to convince him. A few more weak protests before you had enough.

“Bzz, the airplane’s coming!” You guided the spoon toward his lips, making an exaggerated motion.

A smile flickered across his face, slow and lazy, before it stretched into something wider. “Pfft—Stop acting like I’m five!”

His laughter was bright, warm. It tugged at your heart in ways you didn’t want to admit.

“You’re acting like one, so I must treat you as one,” you countered, puffing your cheeks. “Now open up!”

His shoulders shook from suppressed giggles, but he relented, raising a mock defensive hand. “Okay, okay! Pfft—”

His laughter was cut off by a fit of coughs, his body curling in on itself slightly. Your expression immediately shifted, a deeper frown settling between your brows.

“Stop playing around. This is my secret recipe. It’ll stop you from starting another pandemic,” you scolded, pushing the spoon toward him again.

He groaned, but finally obeyed, letting the warmth of the soup settle in his mouth.

His eyes widened, lips parting in surprise.

“You weren’t joking,” he muttered, almost in awe. “This is really good.”

Fatigue seemed to lift slightly from his face, a softness settling in its place.

“See?” You huffed, victorious.

But then—his gaze softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you, shortcake,” he murmured, reaching up with sluggish movements to ruffle your hair. His touch was light, absentminded. Familiar.

Your heart had tugged—just slightly.

Now, staring at the same soup, the warmth of the past curling in your chest like a ghost of something you no longer recognize, you swallow down whatever unspoken feeling rises in your throat.

“Well?” MC grins, nudging you. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

You hesitate, just for a moment, then lift the spoon to your lips.

It tastes the same.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t.

You take another spoonful, swallowing the warmth down along with the lump in your throat.

MC, oblivious to the thoughts stirring in your head, plops down beside you, stretching her limbs dramatically.

“God, today was exhausting,” she groans, tilting her head back. “I swear, if I have to redo that crying scene one more time, I might actually start sobbing for real.”

You hum absentmindedly, stirring the soup with your spoon.

“And Caleb—ugh, don’t get me started on him. He seemed really out of it today.” she continues, rolling onto her side to face you. “Like, he kept missing his queues, kept dazing in the middle of the shoot. Kept asking me if you ate, made me go shop for the soup’s ingredients with him, double-check the soup, even told me it was your favorite like I didn’t already know that.”

Your hand stills over the bowl.

MC doesn’t notice.

She sighs dramatically, propping her head up with one hand. “He even snapped at me earlier. Like, Caleb snapped at me. Can you believe that?”

You glance at her, arching a brow. “What did he say?”

She huffs. “I was teasing him, you know? Asking if he’s finally realizing he’s in love with you or whatever. And he just looked at me—like, seriously looked at me—and said, ‘She’s sick, Michaela.’ Like, what?”

Something sharp presses against your chest, but you don’t acknowledge it.

MC groans again, stretching her arms before flopping back onto the bed. “I get it, though,” she sighs, rolling onto her side to face you. Then, without warning, she grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I was worried sick about you too, Yn.” Her voice softens, the teasing gone. “Don’t go fainting like that again, okay? You gotta tell me if you’re too tired. I need you to be okay.”

You stare at her, her fingers warm against yours, grounding you in a way nothing else has. The weight in your chest—the anger, the ache that’s been gnawing at you since this trip began—fades, just a little.

Because this is MC.

Bright, infuriating, golden MC, who always means it when she says she cares.

And you love her for it.

You love her.

You always have.

So despite everything—despite the storm in your chest, despite the way the world has been tilting under your feet—you smile.

“Yeah,” you murmur, squeezing her hand back. “I know.”

Her lips curl into a grin, her eyes gleaming like the sun itself. And just like that, just for a second, the world feels a little lighter.

“Anyways, enough about that. You need to catch up on all the drama you missed today. And—”

She launches into a rant, animated as ever, filling the room with stories of the ‘earth-shattering’ events you somehow survived without.

Somewhere between her exaggerated retellings and her scandalized gasps, you find yourself laughing.

And just like that, the fatigue melts away.

You only realize you’ve finished the soup when MC casually plucks the empty bowl from your hands, setting it on the table without missing a beat.

She keeps talking, her words tumbling out in a steady, animated stream—until they don’t.

You notice it immediately.

The slight stutter. The way her voice falters mid-sentence. The way her fingers suddenly fidget with the loose threads of the blanket. The way a soft, barely-there pink dusts her cheeks.

Your brows furrow slightly. “MC?”

She clears her throat, forcing a casual laugh. “Sorry, I just—uh—” she waves a hand, trying to dismiss whatever just flustered her, but you catch it. You always catch it.

The way her lips press together. The way her eyes flicker away, focusing anywhere but you.

Suspicion creeps in. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“MC.”

She groans dramatically, covering her face with her hands before peeking through her fingers, her voice dropping ever so slightly.

“It’s just—I was practicing lines with Sylus today, and—”

She hesitates, the words caught somewhere between reluctance and amusement.

Your brows lift.

Sylus?

Of course, you know he’s popular. You’ve seen the way girls linger around him, how they find excuses to talk to him. But MC?

Your lips part slightly, but before you can say anything, something else creeps in—unbidden.

The warmth of his body on the tip of your fingers.

The sharp scent of rain clinging to his skin.

The steady grip of his hand, pulling you away from the storm.

The way he leaned against the wall, damp silver strands falling over his eyes, a towel draped over his shoulders, sharp and unbothered.

The quiet turn of a page, his presence steady, grounding, when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

You swallow.

The memories pass in a flash, leaving behind something you don’t quite understand.

MC doesn’t notice your silence. She groans again, shaking her head.

“Ugh, never mind. It’s not a big deal,” she mutters, but there’s a warmth on her face she can’t quite hide.

Your lips twitch.

“Oh my god,” you gasp dramatically, eyes widening as you lean in closer. “Are you blushing?”

MC swats at you with a pillow, groaning into her hands. “I said never mind!”

That only makes your grin widen.

“No, no, this is important information,” you tease, nudging her shoulder. “MC, do you have a crush on Sylus?”

She groans even louder, flopping onto the bed in defeat.

“Shut up, Yn. My character has a crush on his character. I’m just way too immersed in the acting!”

You laugh, the sound light, genuine.

•

The next few days go by like a blur.

You wake up to MC’s blaring alarm.

You get ready.

You practice your part.

You film.

You watch MC film.

You watch her cheeks flush a little more in scenes she shares with Sylus.

You watch their characters develop.

You eat.

You listen to her rants.

You enjoy the sunset, alone.

You sleep.

Like clockwork, everything plays out like it did yesterday.

And just like everything else, he is on replay, too.

His voice weaves itself into your routine, persistent and unrelenting. A teasing remark over breakfast. A lazy greeting when he passes by. A nudge here, a comment there. Always casual. Always acting as if nothing happened.

“Still mad, shortcake?”

“Damn, I didn’t know you had this much endurance. Impressive.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

You don’t respond.

“Was today tiring?”

You don’t acknowledge him.

“Are you hungry?”

You don’t even look at him.

“Someone’s making a full-time career out of dodging me.”

It’s almost comical, how hard he’s trying to act like things are fine. Like you didn’t stand there, glaring at him with every ounce of anger you could muster just a few nights ago. Like you weren’t left in the rain, stranded in a memory of him choosing her, again.

But that’s Caleb. Always brushing things off, playing it cool, making it seem like nothing ever really matters.

And maybe if you weren’t still seething, it would’ve worked.

And to an extent, maybe it has.

Because the desperation in his eyes seems to seep out a little more with every interaction.

And when he leans a little too close one afternoon, when his fingers brush against your wrist as he tries to catch your attention, your heart still skips. But the scene of that night haunts you. The line cutting, her laughter, his tender eyes looking at her. So you snatch your hand away, sharp and final.

The laughter in his eyes dims, if only for a second.

“Damn. Harsh.” His playful tone faltering a little.

You don’t answer.

And after each of these interactions, your eyes always somehow find its way to the man lingering on the side. And more often than not, you meet his gaze. His ruby eyes pierces through you with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Oh how much you hate that smug face of his.

It’s a look that says he’s watching. That he’s amused.

Like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. Like he already knows how this game ends.

You tear your gaze away, but it’s too late. That smirk is already burned into your mind, curling at the edges of your thoughts, creeping under your skin.

Sylus never says much. He lingers—always just far enough to be uninvolved, yet close enough to witness everything.

Though every single time, he holds your gaze just long enough to let you know that he sees you.

And maybe that should feel comforting.

Maybe it should make you feel like you’re finally being seen.

But with him—with the way his eyes glint like he’s one step ahead, like he’s entertained by something you don’t even understand yet—

it doesn’t feel like comfort.

It feels like a warning.

•

“Hey! Can someone grab more drinks?”

“On it!” you shout.

Being done with all of your scenes, you try to help out around the set where you can. You walk away from the beach and to the parking lot where the tents and coolers are set under the trees’ shades. The bickers and chatters fade into the heat as you approach the swaying canopy. The air is heavier here—thicker, still carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen but now mixed with the plasticky cool of stored ice.

You crouch by one of the coolers, popping the lid open, letting a gust of chilled air wash over your arms.

The silence here is different.

Less alive, less buzzing.

You should be relieved.

But instead, all you can hear is the echo of their voices.

“She’s pretty good at acting,” someone says.

“She does her job well,” another agrees.

“We should’ve given her another role. She could’ve pulled off a character with more significance.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. She acts well, but she doesn’t shine. Not like her.”

You exhale, pressing your lips together.

Something inside you tenses.

The other laughs in response. “Of course, I wasn’t comparing her to Machela. Their auras are very different. One’s the main character, the other’s a decent supporting. You can’t compare them.”

Your brows knit together.

You keep your hands still, your breath steady. You don’t react, don’t turn, don’t acknowledge the way the words settle against your skin like grains of sand—light and fleeting, but impossible to shake off

It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

They’re just opinions, just talk.

You don’t care. You’ve never cared.

You know your role. You know your place.

And yet—your gaze betrays you.

Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flicker to the beach, to her.

MC stands effortlessly at the center of it all, bathed in the golden afternoon light, surrounded by the main characters, the ones who make the scene come alive.

Even among them, she stands out.

She doesn’t try to shine, she doesn’t try to call for attention—she just does.

And then there’s you, just there.

Blending so well into the background that no one even notices you listening.

You swallow, pushing away the uncomfortable weight creeping up your throat.

A breeze stirs the trees, making the tents flutter. You reach into the ice, grabbing a handful of cans, the cold biting against your fingertips.

You exhale, force your shoulders to relax, and do what you always do.

You shake it off. You move.

You quickly grab as many drinks as you can hold and hurry back to the set.

“Who wants water?” Your voice bright, easy.

You step back onto the sand, the heat pressing down on your skin, the voices of the crew and cast swelling around you once more. The coolness of the shade lingers faintly on your fingertips, already fading as you carry the drinks back.

But the words silently follow your trails.

“Oh my god, you’re a life saver!”

MC’s voice snaps you out of it as she practically lunges for one of the cans in your hands, tearing it open like she’s been stranded on this beach for days. She presses it to her cheek, sighing dramatically.

“I’m dying,” she groans, tipping her head back for a long gulp. “Why did I agree to film on a beach? Who thought this was a good idea?”

Before you can answer, another shadow falls over you.

A shift in the air. A presence that arrives so smoothly, so effortlessly, that you don’t even notice until he’s already there.

Sylus.

He reaches out and plucks a drink from your hand, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing the condensation-slick surface.

Then—he opens it.

The sound is sharp against the hazy heat, a crisp hiss that barely lingers before he tips the can back.

And you watch.

The way his throat moves as he drinks, slow and deep, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The way a bead of sweat drips from his temple, trailing down the sharp line of his jaw, catching in the dip of his collarbone before disappearing beneath his shirt.

For a second, the world feels too slow.

When he lowers the can, he’s already looking at you.

“What?” he says, voice smooth, amused, a smirk tugging lazily at his lips. “Not for me?”

Your face immediately scrunches up.

Not a word leaves your mouth, but the reaction is enough.

Sylus chuckles, taking another sip like he’s entertained by something only he understands.

Then, just as effortlessly as he arrived, he turns and walks off, the warm breeze ruffling through his hair, leaving behind nothing but the faintest trace of cool metal and salt air.

Silence settles between you and MC.

It takes you a second to notice it—the fact that she hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word.

You glance at her. The red dusting her face. The way she presses her lips together, eyes darting everywhere but where Sylus just stood.

Something tugs at your chest.

A feeling—small, unclear, curling at the edges of your ribs like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

You don’t exactly understand it, nor do you want to.

So you push it down, bury it deep, shove it away before it can take shape.

“Oh,” you hum, forcing a smirk on your lips.

MC immediately stiffens. “No.”

“Ohhh.”

“No, no, no!” She flails her hands in front of her face like she can physically push the accusation away.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“You totally are.”

She lets out a strangled noise, shaking her head so fast her hair whips around her shoulders. “I—I’m not crushing!” she wails, throwing her hands up. “I’m just—ugh, it’s the next scene, okay?!”

You pause.

The next scene.

The kiss scene.

With Sylus.

You blink, then grin. “That’s what you’re nervous about?”

MC groans, dragging a hand down her face. “He’s so annoying,” she grumbles. “How am I supposed to do this with someone who just—oozes arrogance?” She gulps down the drink in her hands, turning away.

“Try not to melt, yeah? Would be real awkward if the crew had to scrape you off the floor after this.” A playful voice interrupts your conversation.

Caleb.

He strides toward the two of you, effortless as always, plucking a can from your hands and popping it open with a crisp hiss. His smirk is there—light, teasing, the same one he always wears when he’s messing around.

But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

His gaze flicks to the spot where Sylus had just been.

Something in his jaw tightens.

Others might have missed it, but you know him too well. You’re well too accustomed to watching him, seeing all his micro movements when he interacts with MC.

His fingers curl just a little too tightly around the can, knuckles faintly stiff.

Still, he plays it off.

“So,” he drawls, turning back to MC, forcing that smirk back into place. “How long are you gonna make us suffer through this? You practicing, or are we just skipping to the part where you swoon?”

MC snaps to attention, the red still fresh on her face. “I don’t—shut up.”

Caleb clicks his tongue, mockingly thoughtful. “Huh. So defensive. Makes you wonder.”

“You wonder too much,” she fires back, narrowing her eyes.

“Nah,” he grins, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I just have an eye for lost causes.”

And then, before she can dodge, he presses the cold can against her cheek.

MC yelps, jerking away. “Caleb—what the hell!”

“Thought you were overheating,” he muses, completely unbothered. “Wouldn’t want you fainting before the big scene.”

MC glares, rubbing at her cheek like he’s personally offended her. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Still a better option than him.”

MC groans. “Are you seriously insulting Sylus right now?”

“I’m just saying,” Caleb shrugs, casual. “The guy looks like he bites.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re gonna let him lick your face in front of all of us.”

“It’s a kiss, you idiot—”

“Same difference.”

Before MC can strangle him, the director’s voice cuts through the chatter.

“Alright, places, everyone! Let’s run the scene.”

MC freezes.

The teasing dies.

Caleb hums. “Uh-oh. That’s your cue.”

She exhales sharply, smoothing down her clothes like that’ll somehow fix her nerves.

“Don’t overthink it,” he says lightly, taking another sip. “It’s just a scene, right?”

MC glares at him, muttering something under her breath before stomping toward the set.

His eyes follow her form, watching her go.

Caleb’s smirk lingers, but it’s hollow now—more muscle memory than anything else.

Then, without a word, he crushes the empty can in his fist.

You don’t say anything.

You just stand there, staring at the crumpled metal in his hand, feeling the weight of everything he isn’t saying.

The sharp crunch of aluminum still lingers in the air when you finally take a step back, about to turn away—

But before you can, his hand grabs your wrist.

Firm. Unrelenting.

Your breath catches.

“Come here,” he mutters, low, rough, before pulling you with him.

You barely have time to react before you’re being led away from the crowd, past the chatter, past the cameras and the blinding sun.

He doesn’t stop until you’re tucked into the shadows of a secluded corner, hidden behind a wall where no one can see.

Only then does he let go.

Only then does he turn to you, dark eyes burning with something too raw, too intense.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” he asks.

The words hit the air, heavier than they should be.

You blink. “What—”

“I’m sorry, okay?” His voice is frustrated, breath uneven. “I know I messed up. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve—”

He stops himself, exhaling sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s barely holding something together.

Then, before you can move—

His hands press against the wall, caging you in.

Not touching you. But close.

Too close.

His scent fills your senses—something warm, sharp, unmistakably him.

“You can’t convince yourself to hate me with every fiber of your being, wouldn’t you agree?” he murmurs, voice quieter now, but no less desperate. “I’ll eventually find a way to make things right. As long as…” he pauses. His breaths are shuddering.

Your heart stutters.

“You’re by my side,” he whispers.

His eyes flicker over your face, searching, waiting—

And then, softer, rougher—

“Please.”

A breath.

“I need you now more than ever.”

The words sink into your skin, settle into your chest, and God—

It hurts.

Because you know.

You know this isn’t about you.

Not really.

Not in the way you want it to be.

He’s frustrated. He’s angry. Not at you—but at something else, at someone else, at the way things are slipping through his fingers.

And here you are.

Pulled into the scene like always.

Here to fill in the gaps.

Here to be the character he needs in this moment.

Your throat tightens.

Your fingers curl into fists.

You don’t shove him away.

You don’t give in, either.

You just look at him.

At the tension in his jaw. At the way his chest rises and falls just a little too fast.

“Action!”

The director’s voice rings out.

Like a snapped thread, Caleb pulls away.

Your attention shifts

And you see it.

The perfect scene unfolding before you.

The setting sun drenches the world in gold, soft and warm, casting a glow over the sand, the ocean, the two figures at the center of it all.

MC and Sylus.

MC in the center, like always.

Sylus’s hands rest on her waist, firm but careful. His fingers trace along the curve of her back, pulling her closer, into him, into his world. His head tilts, his smirk faint, unreadable—like he’s in control of every beat of this moment.

MC leans in.

Slow, hesitant, shy.

Like a girl falling into the gravity of a man she can’t escape.

The light catches the soft parting of her lips, the uncertainty, the delicate trust in her expression.

Sylus’s fingers tighten, and he closes the distance.

Their lips brush—light at first—before she melts into him, hands lifting to his chest.

It’s effortless.

Beautiful.

The kind of moment people will remember.

The picture-perfect romance.

A story falling into place.

Your stomach twists.

It’s not the kiss itself that gets to you. It’s the way the scene feels like fate, the way it’s framed, the way the world seems to bend itself around her like she was always meant to be at the center.

Like everything happens for her.

And, as if to prove your point—you gaze shifts.

And you see Caleb.

He’s watching the scene.

Watching her.

His breaths are coming even more uneven than before.

Not obvious, not noticeable to most.

But, caged between his arms, you see it.

The way his chest rises just a little too fast, the way his fingers flex and release at his sides, the way his jaw locks so tightly you swear he might break something.

And your chest burns more than ever.

You hate it. You hate everything about this.

You hate how, no matter what happens—this world, this story, this entire thing, bends itself around her.

That all of you—you, Caleb, and even Sylus— are just pieces in the grand design of her narrative.

That no matter where you stand, no matter what you do—

MC is the one the light falls on.

She is the one everything happens for.

She is the one whose all her wishes come true.

You hate it. You hate how you’re just here.

Always here.

Always playing a role in someone else’s story.

And you hate it most that your eyes are turning green looking at her.

That the jealousy creeping up your throat, curling tight in your chest, isn’t just about the scene or the way Sylus or Caleb seem to orbit around her.

It’s about the way the world chooses her, time and time again.

And the fact that you’re bitter about it—

That you feel this way at all—

God, you hate it.

“You don’t need me, Caleb.” your voice much weaker than you want it to be.

You push him out, and quickly turn away, walking off, leaving the beach, the golden sunset, the picture-perfect scene.

And if Caleb calls after you—you don’t hear it.

You don’t want to.

•

The night air presses against your skin, cool but not enough. Not enough to wash away the tension in your chest, not enough to erase the way your own voice had echoed back at you—

The long walk you took should’ve made you feel lighter.

You should feel relieved.

But you don’t.

Instead, the weight follows you, pressing against your ribs with every step, every breath, every slow drag of the tide pulling at the shore. The muffled sounds of the set fade behind you, swallowed by the darkness of the beach.

Only when you get closer to the resort do you start hearing the music.

It starts as a distant thrum, pulsing faintly through the heavy night air. A low bassline reverberating from somewhere ahead, blending with the sound of crashing waves. It takes a second to register, for your feet to slow, for the familiar heat of it to sink in.

The afterparty.

It’s inside the main house, a sprawling beachfront villa that serves as the cast and crew’s retreat after long filming days. The windows glow golden and inviting, the silhouette of moving bodies visible through the sheer curtains.

You hover near the doorway.

Inside, the world is warmer, hazier, looser.

The weight of the evening still sits heavy on your shoulders, but no one else seems to notice. No one else cares.

People are sprawled across couches, tucked into booths, pressed against walls, drinks in hand, faces flushed from alcohol and laughter. The lighting is low, a mixture of dim lamps and fairy lights strung along the ceiling, flickering against the glass like trapped fireflies. The scent of spilled liquor, cheap cologne, and the lingering trace of bonfire smoke fills the air.

MC is somewhere in the center of it all.

You see her immediately.

Perched on the arm of a couch, grinning, draped in warmth and attention, her head tilting back in laughter as someone hands her another drink. She looks effortless, as if the day never happened, as if the weight of the scene she filmed with Sylus didn’t still cling to her like it does to you.

She glows.

Like she always does.

And for the first time, you don’t want to be anywhere near her.

Not tonight.

You turn away, slipping past the clusters of people, past the thrumming energy, and find a quiet corner.

A small table sits against the wall, lined with bottles, a stack of plastic cups haphazardly placed beside them.

You grab one.

Then a bottle.

The first drink goes down too fast. The second burns, but you barely react. The third is easier, a slow warmth spreading through your limbs, seeping into your fingers, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts.

You lean back against the wall, fingers wrapped loosely around the cup, and watch as the night moves on without you.

MC is spinning, giggling, spilling half her drink as she sways to the music. Someone reaches for her waist, catching her just before she loses her balance. Caleb.

He’s there, as always.

Steadying her, teasing her, watching her.

You tip your cup back, draining the rest of your drink.

The music swells, the bass thrumming against your skin. The alcohol curls deeper into your system, warm and heady, numbing the part of you that still feels too present, too aware.

You don’t want to be aware.

You just want to sit here in this corner, where no one is watching, where no one is expecting anything from you.

And for a while, you do.

Drink after drink, until the night feels softer at the edges, until the sound of laughter no longer feels like it belongs to a world you can’t touch.

But then, a loud clap pierces through the room and the music lowers.

The music lowers.

“Alright, listen up! It’s time to bring some romance to life!”

The energy shifts.

People perk up, some groaning, some cheering, all of them gravitating toward the center of the room.

You barely react, swirling the last bit of alcohol in your cup.

But then, you hear it.

“Seven minutes in heaven, baby! Who’s in?”

Your fingers tighten around your drink.

MC perks up immediately, eyes gleaming with the kind of reckless excitement that only comes with being several drinks in.

Caleb groans, rolling his eyes, but he’s grinning.

Meanwhile, you simply sigh as your gaze falls back to the cup in your hand.

Because of course it’s this.

Of course this night, like everything else, will find a way to make her the center of it.

“We’re going to spice things up a little bit,” someone announces over the music, their voice dripping with amusement. A cup filled with rolled-up pieces of paper rattles in their hands as they shake it for emphasis.

“Instead of randomly drawing two names, only one name will be called.”

A pause. Anticipation thickens the air, curious murmurs rippling through the crowd.

The person smirks. “Once that name is called, you’ll be given ten seconds to either volunteer yourself or—” they tilt the cup teasingly, “your friend to be their partner.”

A wave of excitement rolls through the room. Some people cheer, some groan, some exchange knowing glances. A few shove their friends forward, already laughing at the thought of throwing them into the game.

The first name is drawn.

Someone calls it out, and there’s a brief, charged pause before someone steps forward, dramatically throwing their hands up. The crowd erupts as they disappear behind the door, laughter and wolf whistles chasing after them.

Then another name.

And another.

Each round follows the same pattern—a pause, then cheering, then the shuffle of two people slipping into the closet.

Some stumble back out minutes later, flushed and breathless, met with hollers and teasing. Others laugh it off, shaking their heads, grinning like they’ve just escaped something ridiculous.

The alcohol, the music, the flickering lights—everything feels looser, bolder, dipping further into recklessness with each passing round.

People egg each other on, nudging shoulders, calling out names before they’re even drawn, spurring the night forward like a challenge.

And then—

Another name is pulled.

The voice rings loud over the noise.

And your heart stops.

“Yn!”

Heads turn. Conversations pause. A slow wave of curiosity and anticipation ripples through the crowd as people glance around, searching for you.

“There she is!”

A pair of hands grab your wrist before you can even think about running.

Laughter spills around you as you’re dragged through the throng of people, the heat of bodies pressing in from all sides. Your pulse spikes, the alcohol in your system making everything feel sluggish yet sharp all at once—like you’re wading through a dream you can’t control.

They stop right in front of the closet.

Someone swings an arm over your shoulders, grinning.

“Sooo,” they drawl, their voice dripping with mischief, “who’d like to partner up with her?”

A beat of silence follows.

A moment—thick, expectant.

And then—

The crowd parts.

The shift is subtle at first, a presence cutting through the sea of bodies, slow, unhurried, inevitable.

Then you see him.

He steps forward with the kind of effortless confidence that demands attention—shoulders relaxed, hands tucked into the pockets of his fitted black slacks, the faintest smirk curling at his lips.

The room reacts before you do.

A low hum of interest, a few knowing whistles, someone muttering “Oh, shit.”

And God, does he know what he’s doing.

His stride is measured, each step slow and deliberate, the kind that makes you feel like he’s taking his time just to make a statement. The dim lighting casts sharp shadows along his jawline, highlighting the sculpted edges of his face—the messily tousled silver hair, the piercing crimson eyes that lock onto yours like a brand.

He doesn’t blink.

Doesn’t waver.

Just watches you as he approaches, like he’s already decided—like this was never even up for discussion.

Then, finally—

He stops right in front of you.

Too close.

The warmth of him seeps into the space between you, a contrast to the cool scent of his cologne—something crisp, dark, dangerous in a way that makes your stomach twist.

He tilts his head, the movement slow, teasing.

“What?” his voice is smooth, low enough that only you can hear. “Not for me?”

The words slam into you like a punch to the gut—because he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

The room erupts around you, people whooping, clapping, some downright losing their minds over the fact that Sylus fucking Qin just stepped forward for this game.

You swallow.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. Your pulse spikes, heat curling at the edges of your skin—not just from the alcohol, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the sheer presence of him.

Your eyes flicker around the room, anxious of all the cheering going on. Though, it lands on her. On MC.

Your breath catches.

She is staring. Not laughing. Not cheering like the others.

And for the first time tonight, she looks shocked.

Like this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Like this wasn’t part of the story she had in her head.

Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your spine.

However, you were quickly pulled out of your daze when someone claps you on the back, pushing you forward.

The crowd cheers louder and the closet door swings open.

Darkness yawns before you.

Sylus steps forward first, his hand brushing against your lower back as he guides you inside. Casual. Effortless. Like he’s done this before. Like he’s leading you somewhere only he understands.

The door clicks shut.

And the world is swallowed whole.

The music, the voices, the party—it all fades, muffled by the thick wooden walls, leaving only this.

Only him.

Your breath comes uneven, your pulse a heavy drumbeat in your ears, because suddenly, the space around you feels too small. The darkness presses in from all sides, thick and stifling, and the only thing clouding your senses—

Is him.

Sylus leans back against the door, his presence unshakable, his scent thick in the air.

Woody. Dark. A hint of spice laced with something richer, smokier.

Cigar musk and worn leather. Something dangerously smooth, something that lingers.

You can’t see him, but you feel him.

Feel the warmth of his body just inches away. Feel the gravity of him, the way he takes up space without even trying.

The realization of your positions slams into you, sharp and sudden, sending heat curling through your stomach.

You take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go—the closet is too small, too tight, too suffocatingly intimate.

A chuckle. Low, amused, sinful.

“Already nervous?” His voice is pure velvet, thick with the kind of arrogance that makes your stomach tighten.

You swallow, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Mm.” He hums, unconvinced.

The air between you is loaded, heavy, charged with something you don’t know how to name.

And then—

A shift.

A quiet creak of leather. A faint rustle of fabric.

He moves.

Closer.

You don’t even hear him step forward, don’t see him in the thick darkness—but you feel it. The way the space tightens. The way his heat licks at your skin, close enough to touch.

Close enough that if you just reached out—

A warm breath skims along your jaw.

You freeze.

Not touching. Not yet. But so close it doesn’t even matter.

Your own breath hitches, and that’s when you feel it—

His smirk.

You can’t see it. But you can feel it.

The way the air shifts between you, the way the silence stretches, the way his head tilts just slightly, like he’s waiting.

Like he’s playing with his food.

The muscles in your stomach tighten.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, voice dipping even lower, more intimate, like a secret meant only for you. “Not used to being this close to me?”

Your fingers curl into fists, nails biting into your palms.

And God, you hate him for this.

For the way he gets under your skin without even trying.

For the way he makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous, something uncontrollable, something that might swallow you whole if you let it.

The air between you is charged, electric, the kind of tension that makes your skin feel too hot, too tight.

A low chuckle erupts from his chest, its vibrations reaching yours. He leans down towards your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“Use me.”

The words hit the air like a match against gasoline.

Your breath catches.

A smirk curves against the dark. He knows.

Of course he knows.

“Use me to make him jealous.”

Your stomach tightens, heat spreading through your limbs like liquid fire.

You swallow. “That’s—”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His voice dips lower, a soft, taunting hum, stepping closer, just enough that you catch the faintest trace of clean linen and something sharp beneath it.

You hate that your pulse spikes.

You hate that he’s right.

You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how effortlessly he peels you open without even touching you.

You part your lips to deny it, but—

“Or,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, voice edged with something wicked, something dangerous, something that makes your knees feel weak—

“If you’d rather make it more interesting…”

A pause. A shift. A fraction of movement, barely there—

But you feel it.

The brush of his breath against your skin, the slow, unbearable closeness.

“…Use me to make her jealous.”

Your breath stutters.

He sees it.

He feels it.

And the slow, lazy smirk that tugs at his lips—it’s lethal.

Like he’s already won.

Like he knows exactly what buttons he’s pushing.

Like he’s daring you to say yes.

Your fingers curl into fists. Heat rolls beneath your skin, something dangerous, something reckless.

You should tell him to fuck off.

You should shove him away.

You should—

But you don’t.

Because in this moment, in this dark, stifling space—

You don’t know what you want more.

To prove him wrong.

Or to let him be right.

Perhaps it’s the pain you’ve been swallowing for months, the way it’s settled deep in your ribs, pressing against your lungs like a bruise that refuses to fade.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, heavy in your bloodstream, loosening your grip on restraint, making you weak to the things you never let yourself touch.

Or maybe—maybe—it’s the way your stomach twists at the memory of her face.

MC’s wide, stunned eyes. The sharp sting of betrayal flashing across her features.

And as much as you hate it, as much as that look should send you crumbling—

Some twisted part of you puffs.

Some part of you, buried beneath layers of resentment, self-doubt, and the endless role of being cast in the background, thrives on it.

Because for once—for once—she is not the one standing in the center of the world.

For once, you have something she doesn’t.

And maybe it’s wrong. Maybe you’ll hate yourself for this later.

But right now—right now—

The weight of Sylus’s heat against you, the scent of smoke and clean linen and something sharp curling into your senses, pressing into the empty spaces inside you—

It’s stopping you from thinking straight.

And when his lips part, when his breath brushes over your skin, when the last thread of tension pulls taut between you—

You stop thinking altogether.

Because before you can second-guess yourself—

You grab him.

Fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, yanking him down, crashing into him like you’ve lost control of gravity itself.

Heat.

Pressure.

It is all you can feel.

His lips crash against yours, and everything ignites.

Your lips slowly move, and his follow suit. You can feel the smirk on his lips.

That damned smirk.

But your mind is wiped clean as soon as he tilts his head, the kiss turning hungrier. The tension builds, unraveling into something desperate, something heavy, something neither of you have the willpower to stop anymore.

Sylus lets out a low, dark chuckle against your mouth, but you swallow it whole.

He recovers quickly—of course he does—because the moment you give in, he’s already taking.

His hands slam against the wall behind you, pinning you between him and nothing else, his body pressing in, heat bleeding through his clothes and onto your skin.

The kiss is rough, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with slow precision, dragging, teasing, tasting.

Like he’s memorizing you.

Like he’s proving a point.

Your breath shudders when he bites, just enough to sting, just enough to make your knees buckle.

You hate that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Hate that he’s making you melt so easily.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, gripping him tight, using it as leverage when you press your body flush against his.

A sharp inhale from him.

A brief pause.

His fingers dive into your hair, twisting, tugging, tilting your head back as his mouth slants over yours, harder this time.

Deeper.

His other hand slides down, skimming over your ribs, tracing heat into your skin through your clothes before settling at your waist.

Firm. Possessive.

You don’t even realize you’ve been backing up until your back hits the closet wall and he presses in, caging you there, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

Your head spins.

The alcohol, the heat, the weight of him—it’s too much. But not enough.

A low groan rumbles deep in his chest when you tug at his hair, nails raking lightly against his scalp.

And then, his lips break away from yours—just barely, just enough to breathe against your mouth, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his swollen lips.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he murmurs, voice thick, husky, laced with something dangerous.

You exhale, your own lips tingling, your chest rising and falling too fast.

“Shut up.”

His teeth flash in the dimness, his breath hot against your lips.

Your grip tightens on his shirt, but it does nothing to steady you.

Sylus moves slowly—deliberate, like he’s savoring this moment, like he has all the time in the world to watch you unravel.

His hands dip beneath your shirt, fingers curling against your waist, his touch cool against the heat of your skin.

You shudder, a sharp inhale betraying you as his fingers start to move—slow, teasing strokes, tracing along the sensitive dip of your spine, mapping you out like he’s memorizing you by touch alone.

His mouth hovers just over yours, his breath fanning against your lips, his smirk felt more than seen in the heavy darkness.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice a low hum of amusement, his fingers pressing just slightly harder into your waist.

You bite your lip, hating the way your body responds to him, the way his touch burns through the fabric of your self-control.

“I’m not shaking.”

Sylus laughs, a deep, satisfied sound, his grip flexing slightly—his thumbs skimming just beneath the curve of your ribs, fingertips lingering dangerously close to places they shouldn’t be.

“Sure,” he muses, tilting his head. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Then—he shifts.

A slow, taunting drag of his mouth, skimming along the curve of your jaw, down to the edge of your throat.

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering beneath his lips.

“You still thinking about them?” he murmurs, voice dropping into something dark, coaxing, his fingers spreading wider, pressing into the dip of your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

The sharp heat of his body bleeds through your clothes, overwhelming, intoxicating, making it impossible to focus on anything other than him.

His mouth brushes against your neck—just barely, just enough—and a low, approving hum vibrates from his chest when he feels your breath catch.

“Good,” he whispers, voice dark with satisfaction.

His hands trail higher, warmer, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his touch searing against your bare skin.

His fingers splay over the curve of your spine, pressing in just enough to make you arch, just enough to remind you that he has full control of this moment.

“You know,” he murmurs, lips grazing against your throat, voice thick with amusement, “when I said to use me…”

His hands continue their slow ascent, fingertips tracing along the delicate line of your ribs, slipping under the thin strap of your bra, his knuckles brushing dangerously close to places that would mean no turning back.

“I was talking about simply making it seem like we did something.”

He pauses.

A teasing smirk curls against your skin.

“Didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

Your breath stutters.

A sharp mix of heat and indignation surges through you, twisting deep in your stomach, because he’s playing with you.

Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and he loves every second of it.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tighter, a silent warning, a desperate attempt to keep yourself together.

He just chuckles—low, dark, sinful.

“Getting shy now?” His voice is all arrogance, his hands still skimming, still testing, still pushing you to the edge of losing control completely.

You hate him.

God, you hate him.

But you hate yourself more for the way your body leans into him, for the way your breath hitches when his teeth graze your pulse, for the way his heat drowns you whole.

And the worst part?

He knows.

He always knows.

His lips ghost over your skin, the smirk never leaving.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice velvet-smooth, “if I slipped my hands a little lower, would you stop me?”

Your stomach flips.

Your grip tightens.

But you don’t answer.

And that silence is exactly what he needs.

Sylus hums, a low, knowing sound, his fingers tightening against your spine, dragging heat along your skin as they trail downward again—slow, teasing, excruciating.

And then, his lips move, lower—tracing just barely along the column of your throat, hovering, not quite touching, not quite giving in.

“No protest?” His voice is mocking, rich with amusement and something darker, something heavier.

His fingers skim along the waistband of your jeans, just a whisper of pressure, enough to send a jolt through your system, enough to make your nails bite into his shirt, into his skin beneath it.

Your pulse hammers, every muscle in your body coiled so tightly you swear you might snap.

His breath brushes against your ear, soft, deliberate, taunting.

“Still not stopping me?”

You should.

You should.

But your body betrays you, tilting into his touch, into his heat, into the danger of him.

Sylus hums, a deep, satisfied sound, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of your jeans—

A knock shatters the daze you were in.

Loud. Sharp.

The closet door rattles slightly.

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” someone calls, muffled through the wood.

Everything freezes.

Your breath catches.

Sylus doesn’t move, not immediately.

For a long, tense second, his fingers linger—just barely pressing into your skin, his body still flush against yours, his lips hovering just over your jaw.

Though slowly, deliberately, devastatingly—he pulls back.

Just enough for you to breathe again.

Just enough to make you ache from the loss.

Sylus stretches, rolling his shoulders lazily before throwing you a look that’s pure, wicked satisfaction. He runs his thumb across his lower lip, like he’s still tasting you there.

The door finally swings open, and light floods in.

His voice is low, smooth as silk, but dripping with mocking amusement, he whispers before he steps out of the closet—

“Shame. I was just getting started.”

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That fruit guy is breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤

I HAVE A SOULMATE? I

C: Kusuo Saiki X Reader

W: The reader is an artist, There are hints at the reader being neurodivergent (my bad guys, I’m autistic), and Y/N is not used.

E: Everyone is born with a gem. Right over their heart. It keeps their heart beating. And it’s connected to your soulmate. When you meet, your gem glows brightly. And if anything ever damages your gem, assume your soulmate is dead. That means you’re dead next. (Dw guys no one dies I just had to add the dun dun dun effect),

T: Soulmate AU, Technically Love At First Sight

You were sitting on a bench way after school ended as you have been for a while. You found peace in sitting outside, sketchbook in hand. But, sometimes annoying friend groups just love to invade your space. Like this one friend group right now, a blue haired delusional boy, a butt-chinned idiot, a dark purple haired delinquent, a short perv, and a energetic gym freak. But the one that some how stood out, only because he seemed almost too normal was the one with pink hair, green glasses, and… hair…clips? The friend group seemed to be pushing him forward while he remained with a blank expression.

You heard their voices getting closer and closer, and you tried your hardest to ignore them. But it was getting worse when their volume seemed to be increasing by the second.

You looked up and saw them approaching. The group pushed the guy you had your eyes on forward and walked away, but not before giving a thumbs up. Your chest, specifically your heart began feeling warm.

“They forced me here. I don’t see you that-” He gets cut off by a bright light coming from his chest and yours. Your heart felt hot, but it was such a beautiful feeling. You looked down and you were almost blinded. You smiled sweetly.

“You’re my soulmate.” You said, completely in shock and disregarding anything he was previously saying.

“Guess so.” He said, actually using his words, not that you would know the difference. “Suddenly” his friends starting leaving for an “unknown” reason.

“I want to take things slow though. Some people jump right to kissing and to be honest, I don’t know you.” You say in the most sincere way possible.

“Thank god.” He sighed.

Do y’all want a part two? I planned on it but only if it’s wanted.

a garden of my love || alucard/reader

This one has been slowly rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken for a few months now, so I'm glad it's finally out of my head and actually on a page :D

Pairing: Alucard (Castlevania)/Reader

Warnings: angst, hanahaki, character death, hurt/no comfort

Word count: 3.2k

ao3 link

It was late October. Most leaves had already fallen off the trees; the only surviving ones were desperately clinging to branches, all brown and crumbly with death. The sun was shining, but the breeze made your skin prickle with goosebumps despite the warm cloak you had fastened around your shoulders. You were carrying a basket full of food. It was all still warm — steam was gently puffing from beneath the cloth you covered it all with.

It was Alucard’s birthday. So, just like all the years before, you prepared all of his favorites as a gift. You couldn’t really afford lavish clothes or books, but you had plenty of food; so, you gave him your cooking instead.

You didn’t have much — never had, not really, but that rang especially true after Dracula’s war on humanity. Your house got ransacked by night creatures, leaving you to wander from city to city, collecting scraps or hunting in the forest. One day, you ended up in Gresit.

That’s how you met him.

- - - 

Judging by the stories you’d heard in your youth, Gresit was always ugly. But the recent war took that ugliness and transformed it into a picture of despair. Wherever you turned lay dead bodies, limbs spread-eagle, faces scrunched up in an eternal mask of fear. Even if you’d seen it many times before, it still made your stomach churn.

Ever since you’d lost your home, you kept yourself afloat by hunting — mostly hunting, at least. You wished you could say you’d never stolen in your life, but that would’ve been a lie. At least that wasn’t your primary way of getting food.

Usually, you ate only some of the meat from the animals you killed and sold the rest of the carcass, skin and whatever antlers included. But on that particular day, your hunt ended up a failure — most of your traps were empty and all you managed to get with your arrows were a few rabbits. Enough food for a day or two, but if you were to survive on their meat alone, you’d have to eat them all. All you’d be left with would be pelts. You knew from experience that rabbit pelts sold relatively cheap. The three you’d have left by the end of your meals wouldn’t be enough to buy the next one.

So, unfortunately, you had to settle for eating only one of the rabbits and selling the other two whole instead. Not the ideal solution, but maybe it’d get you enough money for a shitty bed in an even shittier inn. If there were any functioning ones left in this goddamned city.

On your way towards the market, you passed by a group of three strangers; two of them — a red-headed woman and a man in tattered clothes — were passionately arguing. Something about the group gave you pause.

You’d only just arrived in the city, but you’d already overheard your fair share of rumors about the battle that took place yesterday night. Apparently a speaker magician and someone thought to be a Belmont led the city’s forces against the night creatures. One of the strangers was clad in Speaker’s robes, the other one had a Belmont crest on his shirt. At least that part checked out. Who the third stranger was, the one sitting in shadow, you did not know. What you did notice about him, however, was that he was incredibly pretty. Distractingly so, almost.

Against your better judgment and possibly all kinds of common sense known to man, you walked towards them. After all, who’d want to get involved in Belmont business? Everyone knew how that ended for those unfortunate bastards; you weren’t exactly keen on getting killed by some overly religious fella with a sword like they had been.

Still, you walked on. Something in your gut told you this was the right thing to do. That maybe it was fate that led you to them that day, as ridiculous as that sounded.

‘What do you want?’ the Belmont barked in your general direction, side-eyeing you from his spot by the wall.

‘I’m not sure I know myself,’ you replied, shrugging.

‘Then be so kind and fuck off.’

‘Trevor!’ yelled the Speaker. If looks could kill, the man would’ve fallen dead on the spot.

‘What? We’re all thinking it.’

‘You’re just as charming as you look, then,’ you said. The dead rabbits you’d holstered to your belt were bleeding all over the side of your thigh. It got uncomfortable quickly in the cold breeze.

‘Could say the same thing about you.’ Trevor didn’t even bother to look up this time. He chose to marvel at all the empty bottles around them instead.

‘He does have a point though,’ said the Speaker. ‘Why did you approach us?’

‘Let’s just say I’m listening to my gut for once.’ You gestured to the bow hanging from your back. ‘You need an archer?’

- - -

After the dust settled and Trevor and Sypha left to chase adventure, you decided to stay with Alucard. Partly for your own sake — you didn’t exactly fancy the drifter lifestyle; plus, sleeping in a warm bed every night did sound really good — and partly for his. You’d been entertaining the idea of staying somewhere around Alucard ever since your little group got to Belmont Hold. But all it took for you to make that final choice was one look at his defeated expression; you’d never seen someone look as lost as he did, watching his father’s burning corpse.

So you stayed.

- - -

You gave him some space after Trevor and Sypha left. You weren’t strangers per say, but you weren’t friends either. You didn’t want to intrude. He deserved at least a few hours to himself.

Instead, you decided to forage in the nearby forest for some dinner. You’d run out of arrows during the battle, so you couldn’t hunt for now, as much as you’d like to. You managed to find some wild onions and herbs — wasn’t exactly dinner material, but if the castle had some dried meat in there somewhere, you could make something out of it.

You were about to turn back when you stumbled upon a whole bunch of beautiful apple trees. You figured they didn’t really belong to anyone, being in the middle of a forest and all. And, even if they did, the owner wouldn’t mind losing one or two apples. Or ten.

You filled up your bag with the fresh fruit; what you couldn’t fit there you carried in your shirt instead. You did drop a few of the apples on your way back to the castle, but you had enough to last relatively long. There was no point in turning back for just a couple of them.

By the time you came back, the sun was setting. You hoped those few hours of alone time did Alucard some good; and that he was ready to talk again. At least to talk long enough to make some food. You had no idea where what was in that huge castle. Let alone something like a pantry. Or a kitchen,

You circled the entire first floor looking for Alucard — no sign of him at all. The second floor, same thing. You gave up on yelling his name eventually; you didn’t want to ruin your throat.

‘I swear, if he’s huddled up somewhere in the basement, I will…’ you stopped mid-sentence when you saw light dancing beneath one of the closed doors. You sighed in relief. ‘Finally.’ You opened the door with your shoulder. ‘Hey, I went looking for some food and I found quite a few…’ you stopped again. But this time, it was for a different reason entirely.

His face was all swollen and his eyes were red-rimmed. Drying tears shone against his skin in the muted light of the fire. When he saw you come in, he tried to quickly wipe them away, but by the time he did, fresh ones started falling.

‘Oh,’ you managed to say. How eloquent of me, you thought. ‘Do you… do you want me to leave?’ you said, shoulders drooping slightly. You knew the death of his father would hit him hard — hell, you’d lost your own! — but you didn’t expect it to hit him this hard.

Then again, you hadn’t had to kill your father, so you didn’t have that much insight into his situation.

He swallowed with difficulty, snot blocking his throat. He moved to wipe the tears away again, but he stopped himself mid-way through. ‘I… I don’t know,’ he whispered, voice breaking.

You nodded and put away the apples; some of them rolled all the way to the other side of the room. ‘Okay.’ You cleared your throat. ‘How about we just… sit together for a while? And then you decide if you’d like me to go or to stay, or if you’d want to talk, we can do just that, okay? Or, well, I can do just that. The leaving part, anyway.’

He chuckled; the sound was unusually wet. ‘You’re awful at this.’

You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. ‘I know. Part of my charm, I suppose,’ you said, and sat on the floor next to him, with your back to the wall.

He smiled a sad, gentle smile. ‘I suppose so too.’

- - -

Years had passed since. And, in the meantime, the birthday feast became a tradition. It was your idea — he hadn’t even thought about celebrating his birthday since his parents’ deaths; something told you that had it not been for you, he’d probably never celebrate it again.

So, every year, without fail, you presented him with a tablefull of delicious treats. In the second year of you living together, Trevor and Sypha visited and stayed long enough to take part in this little celebration. In the third year, the two of you stumbled upon two lost hunters creeping in the forest. What happened after became a taboo, an unspeakable secret worn on Alucard’s skin. In year three, you realized that your devotion to him might be a lot more than you’d like it to be.

In year four, he met Greta.

She was wonderful in every sense of the word. Strong, brave, smart, funny. She made a great friend to both him and you, and a great leader to her people. One of your sweetest memories was sitting with her in the kitchen late at night, a pint of beer in your hands and laughter on your lips. The other one was helping her and the villagers built their new homes around the castle.

You’d be stupid not to notice the way he looked at her.

Ever since you’d realized what your feelings for him were, you decided to push them all down. After everything he’d been through your… attraction would only bring him pain. And that was the last thing you wanted for him. Besides, being someone close enough to him to be called his friend was an honor, you told yourself. Lover or not, he was the most important person in your life and you’d never risk ruining all of that over a stupid crush. It would pass, like they all always had.

So, you let time run its course. You watched Alucard and Greta get close and, despite the dull pang in your chest, you were genuinely happy for them.

After all, they were perfect for each other.

In year five, they finally got engaged. That’s when it all went to hell.

The whole village celebrated the news. All the hunters went out to the forest and all brought something back — yourself included. There was a huge bonfire and enough meat to feed everyone and then some. There was dancing, singing, music. Alcohol poured out of every corner. Everyone was giddy with laughter. Especially the freshly engaged couple — both of them with crowns of freshly picked flowers on their heads. You helped the children make them as gifts.

Everything was perfect. So, so perfect. You got drunk enough to get nauseous. You managed to stumble your way to a nearby bush to puke. You were too out of it to notice the petals swimming in the putrid liquid.

- - -

By the next day, the cough started. You chalked it up to a bad cold and moved on. Alucard was a bit worried when he noticed how pale you were, but you quickly dismissed him, telling him to go back to Greta. You were fine, a little cough wasn’t going to kill you.

Was it now?

A few weeks passed by, but the cough wasn’t getting any better. Quite the opposite, actually. Eventually it got to the point where you had to take a breather after walking up to your castle room. Luckily enough, no one noticed. You were sure it would pass if you just gave it enough time.

Then, the pain came. Sometimes it felt like something stabbing itself into the inside of your chest, sometimes it felt more like a pressure, rising until you could barely catch a breath.

That’s when Alucard decided that enough was enough. He forcibly got you to bed and ordered you to stay put until he figured out what was wrong with you.

Like hell you were gonna do that. Not after the petals you coughed up into your hand.

You ended up sneaking into the great, expansive library of the castle. After all, if you were to find an answer anywhere, it would be there. Or in the Belmont Hold, but that was plan B because of all the walking.

Night after night, you poured over books in hopes of finding an answer. The sleepless nights were starting to get to you. You tried to sleep as much as you could during the day, but your illness — whatever it was — wasn’t exactly helping with your tiredness.

‘What the hell do you do at night, exactly?’ asked Alucard, after changing the cold compress on your forehead.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me. You’re tired as all hell. And you shouldn’t be, if you really were sleeping both at night and during the day.’

‘I’m sick…!’ you protested weakly; judging by his expression, that excuse didn’t work.

‘Sure.’ He cocked a brow. ‘If you don’t want to tell me now, don’t. But don’t expect me to just let you do whatever when you’re this ill. You’re not just my friend, you’re my patient as well.’ He took the basin of cold water from the dresser and rested it on his hip. ‘I won’t let you run yourself into the ground because of whatever it is you do at night.’

You huffed a breath. When he realized you weren’t going to answer him, he sighed through his nose.

‘I mean it. Take care of yourself, please. We’re all worried about you.’

‘I know,’ you said, voice hoarse. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Nothing to be sorry for. Just, please, actually sleep at night.’

- - -

The night after that, you finally found your answer. Sitting on the ground, skimming a very old, very tattered book. The writing was so worn it was barely readable in the candlelight.

What you were suffering from was a kind of curse. At least according to the book. It befell those who were unhappily in love. You frowned at that. Love was a bit of a strong word, wasn’t it? Sure, you were fond of Alucard, but love? A bit of a stretch. Right?

‘There you are,’ said Alucard. His sudden appearance made you jump; the books around you fell onto the ground with a thud.

‘Don’t scare me like that!’ You hadn’t even heard him approach.

‘Oh, please.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m losing sleep at night because you keep getting worse no matter what I do, and you’re sneaking into the library?’

You swallowed the petals threatening to spill out of your throat. ‘I’m looking for answers.’

‘Answers to what, exactly?’

‘To what’s wrong with me.’ You sighed and closed the book, hoping to whatever god was up there that he hadn't seen the page you were on. ‘No medicine is working, so I thought I’d do some… research myself.’

‘And did you find anything?’

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. Eventually, you settled on an answer. ‘No, not really.’

‘Then please, go back to bed and leave the research to me, okay?’ he said, kneeling on the floor next to you. ‘No need to push yourself like that.’

‘You’re right,’ you replied with a sigh, putting the book away.

One line burned itself into your mind; no cure.

- - -

And now, nearly half a year later, you were slowly trekking from the castle to Alucard and Greta’s new ‘office’; at least that’s what they called it. Initially, it was supposed to be the village’s control center, but, with time, it turned into their second house. They were spending more time there than in their castle chambers these days.

You expected Alucard to yell at you for doing all that cooking. You could hear him already. ‘You shouldn’t have done that’ and ‘Think of your health!’, and ‘You’re already weak as it is, what if something happened to you?’. To be perfectly honest, you found the way he worried about you so much quite endearing. It made you glad that, despite him being happily married, you still held an important spot in his heart.

You couldn’t say the same about some of your before-the-war friends, may the earth be light for them.

The basket was getting quite heavy though. As much as you wanted to deny it, it dug into your skin more and more with every step. The golden honeysuckles threatening to burst out of your chest certainly didn’t make anything easier.

Apparently they meant ‘devoted affection’ in the language of flowers. Well, at least that much was true when it came to your feelings for Alucard. Although you weren’t entirely sure if the kind of flowers really meant anything in the case of your curse. Maybe adding meaning to it all simply made your illness a bit easier to stomach for you. Maybe not.

The spot where the basket handle dug into your arm was starting to really hurt. Before this curse, your arms were something you were proud of — strong and reliable, the arms of a true archer. Now that all of your glory had been eaten away by the curse, all that remained of your previous profession were the calluses on your hands; eternal proof of what you used to be.

You started choking on your breath. Your legs dragged across the dirt road, leaving deep trenches in the fresh mud. Still, you pressed on. You were that much closer to Alucard and Greta’s new house. You weren’t going to give up now. Not when this could be the last birthday feast you’d ever throw for him.

Sweat dripped down your face. Some of it got into your eyes; the stinging blinded you for a moment. As you moved to wipe the sweat away, you lost footing on the slippery mud. You fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the side of your head colliding with a rock.

Blood pooled around you, drenching the warm food that spilled out of the basket you were cradling in your arms. And beside it all was a single, dirtied petal of honeysuckle.

The wind blew. The petal flew with it.