Jess - She/Her. ‘93 Side blog. Main blog if you’re curious. Writing some Ateez and Stray Kids over here. Requests are closed. Curious on what I’m reading?: Fics you should read
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Hongjoong:
Three AM: Hongjoong feels better sleeping at your place. He knows it’s late, but he’ll just sneak in and crawl into bed with you.
Play Time: Hongjoong isn’t in the mood to punish you after catching you breaking a rule. Or at least that’s what he said.
Teacher’s Pet: Hongjoong gets in trouble for a school fight on university grounds. His favorite professor is upset and disappointed in him. The two discuss the fight and “discuss” feelings between them. Surely she can’t stay disappointed in him forever right?
Thursday, 5:38 PM: Spending quality time with Hongjoong in the studio can be boring when he’s busy. Thankfully he knows how to keep you content and entertained.
Seonghwa:
Come In: A mysterious man as been watching your apartment for some time now. Just when you think he’s moved on you can’t seem to get your mind off of him. He’s in your dreams and desperate to be with you. Trying to push those dreams aside you realize he’s now outside your window and asking to be invited in. Just let him in.
Backwards: Running away was a dumb idea. You knew it was. You didn’t stand a chance. Not with how micromanaged your life is. Part of you is not even sure why you attempted to flee. Perhaps it was to say you tried. If anyone asked, if the detectives asked, you could say you took the chance. As a normal person would do in your situation.
Soul Agreement: Fear can only scare people for so long. After dealing with a persistent ex, you and Yunho agree that help is needed to eliminate this thorn in your side permanently.
Yunho:
Soul Agreement: Fear can only scare people for so long. After dealing with a persistent ex, you and Yunho agree that help is needed to eliminate this thorn in your side permanently.
Control: Normally Yunho is the one calling the shots in the bedroom and you two are his obedient partners. Occasionally Yunho let’s you have the reins to tease Mingi because he loves watching you two. Let’s see how tonight unfolds.
Spank Me: Yunho has a dump truck of an ass and he found out he enjoys it when you spank him. Maybe a little too much.
Masterpiece: You were given a month to learn a classical piece of music for a class. Unfortunately playing the piano wasn’t your strength and your friend Mingi convinced you to hit up his friend and piano tutor Yunho. If anyone was able to teach you, it would be him. Thankfully for the both of you, he found the right motivation to encourage you to keep pushing yourself to learn the piece.
Good Boy: Two is always better than one. Especially when they love to behave. San was pushed to his limits, but he’s determined to prove he can be better. He won’t disappoint next time.
Two of a Kind: The downside to having two boyfriends is that there are two of them. You find yourself outnumbered more often than not, especially when they live to tag team against you.
Yeosang:
Tuesday: CEO/Business AU. It’s a Tuesday and Yeosang’s morning is clear of meetings. Good thing his assistant is here to help get him though the mundane work day.
Someone Could’ve Told Us We Were Dating: Collaboration with Amanda. You weren’t supposed to fall hopelessly in love with your roommate, but who wouldn’t be absolutely head-over-heels for Kang Yeosang?
The Brat Complex: Collaboration with Amanda. The biggest skateboarding competition in town is right around the corner, but this year you're sure you're prepared. Last year's winner, Kang Yeosang, seems to absolutely have it out for you this time. This year's favorite to win, Lee Felix, always seems to be around to show you up. Your competition is strong but your bratty attitude allows you to keep up with them, until they finally put you in your place.
San:
Acceptance: There are five stages of grief. Today, you woke up and finally accepted your fate. There is no escape from this place. You are home. This delusional vampire is never letting you go.
Better Than One: You had mentioned to San that you wanted to try to spice up your sex life by adding a third person. San knew there was only one person that you’d feel comfortable with and it was his friend Mingi.
Only One Need: San asked you to edge tonight and you did. As a reward he told you that you could finally have an orgasm. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get there. At least not yet.
Good Boy: Two is always better than one. Especially when they love to behave. San was pushed to his limits, but he’s determined to prove he can be better. He won’t disappoint next time.
Mingi:
Control: Normally Yunho is the one calling the shots in the bedroom and you two are his obedient partners. Occasionally Yunho let’s you have the reins to tease Mingi because he loves watching you two. Let’s see how tonight unfolds.
Cozy Like Tea: Pure fluff. Sometimes you need a night in with each other’s company to enjoy the small things in life.
Wet & Hot: There are moments of desperation and need and Mingi knows what you like. He’s happy to help with any kinks of yours that help you get off.
Better Than One: You had mentioned to San that you wanted to try to spice up your sex life by adding a third person. San knew there was only one person that you’d feel comfortable with and it was his friend Mingi.
Thursday, 5:38 PM: Spending quality time with Hongjoong in the studio can be boring when he’s busy. Thankfully he knows how to keep you content and entertained.
Two of a Kind: The downside to having two boyfriends is that there are two of them. You find yourself outnumbered more often than not, especially when they live to tag team against you.
Wooyoung:
Eagerness: Wooyoung is finally home after a day of practice. You had sent him a photo of you ass plugged and ready for him knowing it would excite him. It was all he could think about on the way home. Now he has you right where he wants you.
Jongho:
One Minute: Jongho is well behaved, especially for you. He’s waiting for your dance practice to end for the day so he waits in the corner of the room till you’re ready. One problem though, he watched your new dance and he’s a little excited. He’s not ready to walk out of the practice room with a hard-on.
Monarchs: Chan has the ideology that vampires and humans can coexist. He’s believed this for several hundred years. His creations, his town, and his humans are everything to him. He will go to any extent to keep them out of harm’s way. Including taking out those who threaten their safety. [ongoing]
Play With Your Food: If there is anything consistent with vampires it’s the fact they’ll always play with their food. [ongoing]
Chan:
Blood Favor: Chan is a great leader. You’ve known him your whole life. You trust him. You also trust him to teach you new things after things escalate between you.
Everlasting: Chris loved one woman his entire existence. Cursed with immortality, he looks for a will to go on. After 400 years, he’s finally found a reason: the love of his life was reborn, but she’s soon to be married.
Troublemaker: You live to tease your two friends during dance practice. Chan seems to finally had enough of your flirting and wants to give you a taste of your own medicine in his own way.
Play With Me: Chan is feeling awful needy today. You have to know how badly he’s longing for your attention.
Sweet Pea: Not all relationships end badly. Sometimes it occurs at the wrong place and wrong time in life. If you’re lucky, a second chance opens up.
Day: 1467: Even when the world ends, there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Minho. Including nefarious activities with your community’s leader.
Full Moon Rut: No more. You couldn’t sit and watch this abuse any longer. Fuck the internship. Fuck the potential job. Chan’s life should be more than the institution’s walls. He should be able to feel the grass under his feet and fresh air through his fur. It was a perfect plan except for one tiny detail: the full moon is here.
Minho:
Weight of Worth: You were hired as a live-in servant for one of the town’s founding leaders Lee Minho. The job fairly simple so you were told. Only being fed from on occasion till your family’s debt was paid.
6:47 PM: Picking a fight with one of your doms might not be the best idea.
Sunday Morning: Minho likes to go on hikes in his free time. He finally has a chance to go this morning accompanied by someone he loves to spend time with.
Double Trouble: Working with idols can be hectic. It can also be a lot of fun. Two of your favorites have noticed you are working on your birthday and a rare opportunity pops up.
All Mother: Minho has spent a good chunk of his life devoted to one goddess. The one he believes can help him and his people. After a long journey he finally makes to her temple. He never expected his loyalty to be so rewarding.
Day: 1467: Even when the world ends, there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Minho. Including nefarious activities with your community’s leader.
Changbin:
I Know I Love You: Friends with benefits are always complicated. Especially when the two catch feelings. A decision needs to be made as the pain of being apart finally gets to be too much.
Tease: Changbin loves being worshiped by you. He loves the way you admire him as if he’s a piece of art. However, you’re annoyed because he has the audacity to tease you while you’re attempting to work.
Ain’t Love Strange: You agree to let your brother’s best friend move into your house to help pay for the mortgage. You didn’t except to hit it off with him.
Wildflowers: Normally Changbin doesn’t give most humans a second glance. He focuses on his work and expectations from Chan. However, the more he fights himself the more he realizes he’s fallen for a human. Out of practice and a bundle of nerves, Changbin is trying his best at courting. Bless Hyunjin for being the best wingman.
Hyunjin:
Nice Boys Finish Last: Hyunjin is secretly in love with you. Unfortunately, you’re taken by a man that doesn’t deserve you. Deciding not to tear you away from your boyfriend, Hyunjin settles for being a friend and waits.
Something More: Hyunjin usually goes on small trips on his own. This time was different, he asked to you to join him. You said yes to the weekend trip wanting to go on a little adventure.
Scarlet Red: A young talented artist has caught your attention. Now you want nothing more than for him to be successful. (Non idol au)
Jisung:
One of a Kind: Jisung is helplessly in love with his best friend. He’s coming to terms that he wants something more but he has no idea if you’d even want him.
Dynamic: Jisung is a switch. He’s always known this. He can do the whole dom thing when it’s asked for, but he’s realizing you are far better at it. Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 [Series Complete]
Felix:
Transfixed: Lee Felix is a proud owner of his night club for vampires in the center of town. You knew you shouldn’t be infatuated with a vampire but something about him always had you longing for him.
A Normal Thursday: Every job has risks. Unfortunately, even yours as bioterrorism grows. You were just a regular epidemiologist working in a lab. When a special forces officer comes in to take you to a safe house, you grew concerned. Thankfully, you at least know the person who is assigned to watch over you. (Non idol AU/In the Resident Evil universe.)
Arrangement: You needed some extra money as you tried to balance your work and college life. Felix wanted your company and would do anything to have it no matter the cost. (Slightly aged up Felix.)
Troublemaker: You live to tease your two friends during dance practice. Chan seems to finally had enough of your flirting and wants to give you a taste of your own medicine in his own way.
Paralian: You inherited a house from your parents. Nice cute little cottage with a strip of a private beach. You had the perfect little life, able to work from home, tend your garden, and hangout with your dog. One stormy night changed it all.
Peaches: Vacation. Felix is finally on vacation. He has been thinking about this picnic for two weeks and it’s finally here.
Gemini: Twins. A pair. Felix and Yongbok are your closest friends. You have known them your whole life. For the first time things get messy between you three. [coming soon] [preview]
[ Yongbok] // [Felix] // [Gemini]
Seungmin:
No Secrets: The phrase ‘no secrets' is echoing in Seungmin’s ears. That’s the one rule in your friendship. Communicate and be honest. However, Seungmin has one secret. A big dirty secret. He’s not sure he can come clean about it.
The Turning: A sudden tragedy strikes the city, leaving Seungmin to realize how fragile your human self is. Finally after several years of push back from Chan he's allowed to turn you.
Jeongin:
Revitalization: Newborn Jeongin is struggling to adjust to his new lifestyle. Chan warns you this time around might not be a successful rehabilitation. He doesn’t think he’ll have to destroy Jeongin, but it’s not looking good.
Double Trouble: Working with idols can be hectic. It can also be a lot of fun. Two of your favorites have noticed you are working on your birthday and a rare opportunity pops up.
The Devil’s Smile: Jun is known as a benevolent emperor. Only few know how he truly is. [Park Junhee of A.C.E]
Predestined: Some sins can't be forgiven. Others exist in our memories to haunt us as a reminder to not let history repeat itself. However it appears to be out of your hards this time around. [Choi Soobin of TXT] [coming soon] [preview]
2023 KINKTOBER: 31 one days of drabbles with the Ateez and Stray Kids ensemble.
Summary: If there is anything consistent with vampires, it’s the fact they’ll always play with their food.
Author’s Note: If you’re looking for cute and cuddly then these vampires aren’t for you. Consider reading my Monarchs series instead.
+ Each fic is a standalone, you don’t need to read in order. (But you may catch references if you pay close attention.)
+ PLEASE read the warnings listed on each of the fics carefully. Some dip into darker themes. You are in charge of the media you consume. I wanted to expand my spectrum of vampires and I’m gonna have fun with these pieces of fiction. Please enjoy.
Pairing: Vampire!HyunChan x Vampire Hunter! Fem Reader
Summary: Hyunjin’s path of destruction always moves sporadically. Never too close together, but never far enough away that you lose him. It’s been hell to track over the last two years. Until now, that is. Hyunjin is moving in a straight line to a quiet village. It means only one thing: he’s found his maker.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI with adult content. Forced submission, nonconsensual sex, PIV, edging, forced orgasms, overstimulation, oral (F. and M. receiving), fingering, blood feeding, minor character deaths, desecration of dead bodies (used as art forms), degradation/humiliation, size kink if you squint, and some praise.
Word Count: 13,800 and some change
Author’s Note: Check the warnings on this one. If you want nicer vampires, then check out my Monarchs series. Remember, this is a work of fiction. Let’s have fun here. A lot of you were curious how our grand vampire hunter had a fall from grace in part one. So let's have an origin story. Enjoy. ;) Also fuck editing. I’m tired and have a flare.
The old church in front of you stands like a crumbing tombstone. Abandoned and left for the earth to reclaim. Time wasn’t kind to the land or the building. There is no path to follow, only grass and wildflowers as high as your knees. Emerald green moss coated most of the roof shingles, flourishing in the humid, shady environment thanks to the towering Miroh forest. Densely woven ivy clung to the side, making itself at home in the eroding stone. As you rounded the corner to the entrance, the welcoming doors that once stood were now gone, leaving nothing more than a sight that resembled a dark cave entrance.
Yes, this would be perfect for the vampire you were tracking.
Shattered stained glass lets sunlight leak through, creating little god rays in the building to illuminate the rotting wooden pews. Once deeper inside, your boots crush dried leaves and kick up layers of dust. The surrounding air smelled of old incense and something regretfully familiar: decay.
There, towards the front, were two humans. Not discarded how typical vampires would. No, someone arranged the bodies, propped on display. You strolled closer, stopping beside the nearest corpse. Two bodies intertwined, with half-open eyes and heads tilted opposite, looked like lovers moving in for a kiss.
"Artistic," you muttered; your voice echoed off the stone walls. "Pretentious, even."
It had to be him.
Your latest assignment was known as Hyunjin Hwang. A once dangerously beautiful artist, known for stealing the hearts of many humans, now takes a life force instead. Rumors say he ran out of money, losing it to gambling and other sins after the death of his partner. He was deep in an opium haze when a vampire found him. The poor soul most likely didn't even know what was happening or what he would become.
Now, separated from his maker and on his own, Hyunjin’s beauty was sharper than any weapon in your arsenal. Even without compulsion, humans followed him like moths to a flame. He was using it so boldly, so frequently, and to such an unhealthy degree that your employers caught wind of it.
It was easy to know whose kills belonged to the vampire. Hyunjin always left a signature. Not necessarily a calling card. No, even as a monster, this was his newest piece of art. He traded his brushes for bodies, using these humans as strokes of paint. Death was a performance for him.
You pulled out a handmade map, unraveling the sheet of paper and placing it flat on the altar in front of you. All of Hyunjin’s kills since you took over the case are marked out. Little splotches of ink that could have been sporadic freckles on someone’s skin. Hyunjin appeared lost, searching for something for years. A place, a memory, or maybe a person? You weren’t sure. He never stayed in one spot for too long. Only a few months here, then travel to a new village. Never quite long enough for hunters to find him. Even with your years of experience, there was a struggle to follow him, chasing reports of staged dead bodies, with no discernable path or reason.
That was until you added the newest location.
As if a storm were clearing, Hyunjin’s movements are apparent now. The pen in your hand dragged downwards, connecting the line of dots and continuing in a straight line until you reached a city known as Levanter. The very city that was the Hunter’s Association's last known location for the elder vampire known as Chan.
You smiled to yourself, proud that the puzzle was complete.
He’s found what he was looking for.
After two hundred years apart, Hyunjin has found his maker.
Tonight should be the night you cross paths with Hyunjin. If you were correct about the mapped trajectory, the vampire should make himself known. This residence is the last structure able to provide the creature protection from the rising sun. He’s still got a distance to Levanter, but the pressure of time is going to force him indoors and trapped for the day.
If you can stop him tonight, you can halt any brewing plans the creature might be conjuring up.
There’s a small electric buzz making its way through your nerves at the thought. He would be the eldest vampire you’ve hunted. The association will be pleased if you are successful. No, your family would be proud. There is a legacy resting on your shoulders and minimal room for failure. It’s crucial that this creature be eliminated.
Your horse halts on the edge of the property, off to the side, hidden from windows. You dismount before loosely tying the reins to a tree. Then with a soft pat on the creature’s hip, you leave the beast to chomp at the grass at its feet.
The estate is tucked deep away in the thick woods, too far to be heard and too far to receive help. If the information from the previous town is correct, both owners are elderly. The pair has run out of money. No steward, no farmhands, and no servants to help keep the property from falling apart. Hyunjin may as well be a wolf in a chicken coop.
What a perfect situation for the vampire to manipulate his way into.
Ever so cautiously, you sneak up to the side of the estate. Grass keeps your steps quiet on the damp earth. The first window you peek into is dark, except for the faintest glow flickering behind the parted curtains. Candlelight, you think, not lamplight. There is someone awake inside. Perhaps there is still time you can interfere before Hyunjin does anything unthinkable.
A few more steps dashed any sign of hope you had.
What remains of a back door is open; the bottom half of the wood rests crooked on its hinges, revealing what appears to be a kitchen. With careful hands, you reach for your crossbow stashed on your back in the sling. A breath remains held in your lungs while loading a bolt, waiting for any sort of noise from the dark room. The vampire could be just beyond your visibility, waiting for you.
While keeping the crossbow aimed, you take your first step into the house. A familiar smell hits your nose once you cross the threshold. It’s the same strong metallic scent at the church followed by a hint of the sickly sweet odor of decomposition. Hyunjin has already begun his next piece of art.
The crossbow remains held with a hand while the other searches blindly along the wall. Thankfully, your fingers find a light switch, and with a flick, light floods the room in a pale yellow. As your eyes adjust, you take in how the kitchen is in ruins. Pots with dinner were overturned, chairs were splintered, and dried blood was smeared across the floor in long, desperate streaks leading out of the room. You follow the trail through the hall, past family portraits with glass cracked by force.
A soft hum echoes from the parlor. Hyunjin is taking his time, still playing with the residents until the sun peaks through the windows and sends him hiding into the walls until nightfall. This is good; the perfect opportunity for you to catch him off guard.
You step through the doorway, and the newest art piece welcomes you.
The elderly couple sits propped upright in a set of armchairs, hands folded neatly in their laps. Their eyes are wide open, glassy, and soulless. Chunks of flesh are missing, revealing large holes where throats were torn open, drained of every drop. Hyunjin arranged them like dolls on display. He stands behind them, one hand resting lightly on each of their shoulders as if presenting his artwork.
“Do you like it?” he asked without turning. “I wanted you to see my hospitality.”
You don’t lower your weapon when the vampire turns to face you. Plastered on his face is a wide smile that doesn’t diminish. He instead appears delighted to have a witness to his latest piece.
He steps away from the couple’s chairs with a dancer’s grace, fingertips trailing lightly across the back of one armchair as if savoring the fabric’s texture. The gesture is casual, almost affectionate. This makes his actions progressively worse. There is no remorse. No care for these humans who were living life. Instead, he continues to play with his dolls and make his art.
“You tracked me well,” he says, circling the room with slow, deliberate steps. “Most hunters don’t make it this far.”
Your eyes flick to the walls. Scratches. Blood. A handprint smeared down the wallpaper when someone tried to hold themselves upright before collapsing. Even with their age, the humans tried to get away.
“Hyunjin Hwang,” you finally say, forcing your breathing to be steady. “16 men and 32 women just in the last two months. The hunter’s association ordered me to kill you.”
Hyunjin’s grin widens, delighted. “I’m already dead. The association’s numbers are wrong, anyway.”
“I’m well aware.” You say, shifting your stance, keeping him in your sights. The bolt of the crossbow was aimed high on his chest to account for the arc when released. “Your numbers are far higher than that. 154 men and 272 women over the last two years.”
“You’re still wrong.” He giggles. The monster actually giggles, full of light and air, like some girl whispering secrets about her crush behind a schoolyard wall.
When you don’t share in his amusement, the vampire tilts his head, studying you with a child’s curiosity and a predator’s hunger. The association’s reports echo in your mind. Hyunjin is unstable because of being turned under that heavy opium haze. His mental state has suffered.
You believe it now.
Hyunjin’s eyes flick to your crossbow. “Are we done with the introductions?”
You pull the trigger. The bolt flies out, slamming into his shoulder, driving him back into the wall with a sickening crack. His snarl fills the room, a sound raw and feral. Fangs elongate as a hand of his reaches to rip the bolt free, snapping it in half with one hand as if it were nothing more than a twig.
“I don’t have time for you, hunter.”
“All you have is time.” You spat, fingers on another bolt to reload, hands steady despite the adrenaline burning through your veins.
“And you are not worthy of it!”
Hyunjin moves. A blur of pale skin and long black hair, faster than your eyes can track. You barely twist aside before his hand closes around your throat, slamming you into the floorboards hard enough to rattle your teeth. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and the crossbow skitters away, now resting out of your reach at the deceased human’s feet.
These creatures always strike faster, stronger, and more lethal than any human could hope to match. Hyunjin is no exception. He isn’t ancient or an elder, but he’s seasoned. One you were already at a disadvantage against. He’s confident, practiced, and deadly. Even more so with fresh blood coursing through his system. Perhaps you should have waited until he slumbered for the night.
Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, red pupils boring into yours. The grip around your neck tightens. “Any last words, hunter?”
Your vision pulses at the edges. Black spots appear, nearly blocking out the amused smirk forming on the vampire’s lips. One hand claws at his wrist while the other fumbles along your belt, searching. Your lungs scream for air. Your head throbs with sharp, stabbing pain behind your eyes.
Now or never.
The vial in your hand shatters against his face.
Hyunjin recoils instantly, shrieking as holy water splashes across his cheek, neck, and hand. Smoke rises from his skin as angry red burns bloom and spread. He tries to wipe it away, but his palm drags across the embedded glass shards, slicing deeper.
You roll over, forcing your knees under you and gulping air like a drowning man breaking the surface. No time to recover. You reach for your stake on your hip. This needs to end now. Before he heals. Before he has time to attack. And before he can reach Levanter.
Hyunjin continues to stagger back, eyes blazing with fury. However, that burning flame flickers the longer he assesses himself. That rage inside him drains like a pulled plug. His eyes widen, scanning the burns still forming against the length of his trembling arm and then down to the stake in your hand. Fear? How unusual for a fledgling.
“Pray we do not meet again, hunter.” His voice is a low growl, his lips peeling back to reveal blood‑stained fangs. “You won’t enjoy it if you do.”
Without another word, Hyunjin vanishes through the doorway in a blur of motion, leaving only the stench of burned flesh and the echo of his laughter. You push off the floor, chest still heaving as you get your feet under you. You stumble down the same hallway you came through, past the mess of the kitchen and back outside, scanning the treeline for the vampire.
Your horse is gone.
Damn bastard took your horse.
As if a line in the sand were drawn, the forest of Miroh ends abruptly. The space between you and the gated entrance of your destination is flourishing fields of farms and vineyards. The longer you walk, the more you realize Levanter stands proud near the end of the coast. Pretty like a painting with a bright blue sky as a backdrop. It would be a shame to have two creatures take this peacefulness away from humanity.
Sounds of a booming market welcome you. All thriving with no understanding of what evil is about to plague the townsfolk. This is why the hunter’s association strives to eliminate vampires. The more the world doesn’t know these creatures exist, the safer the population is.
Castle walls may have seen modern renovations; the tavern you stop in is another story. What you assume is original stone and mortar frames the cramped, low-ceilinged room. Wooden beams run the length of the ceiling and posts every few yards. The wood could have been reused from an old warship, as one of the main support beams is home to an etched-out name.
Despite the early hour, the tavern is already cramped. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and damp wool from the morning storms rolling through. Every table is filled with laborers with cracked hands, miners who finished shifts that still have soot clinging to their sleeves, and even a handful of merchants are here for a quick meal. These are the people who keep Levanter alive, the ones who work until their bones ache.
Every single one of them goes silent the moment you step inside. Not an unusual occurrence. An armed stranger showing up to town is bound to turn some heads.
A chair across the room scrapes harshly against the floorboard. Silverware is placed down. Tankards pause midair in what was probably a cheer now frozen in place. And just like that, a dozen pairs of eyes narrow on you with suspicion. All because of the crest embroidered on the front and back of your wool cloak.
A man near the hearth spits into the fire. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
You keep your posture relaxed, though the tension in the room is sharp enough to cut. “The church has sent me. You appear to have a vampire problem.”
A ripple of discomfort moves through the tavern. Somewhere behind you comes a curse. A man stands, only to sit back down when his companion grabs his sleeve.
“You only cause us more trouble,” the man by the hearth snaps. “They take one or two humans as needed. After you hunters show up, they kill because they’re angry.”
How interesting, you think to yourself. A town aware of vampires and the hunter’s association still takes a stance with the creatures. To defend these monsters is heresy. The association will have to be notified immediately. However, for now, you need to appeal to these humans to squeeze out the information you need. There are only so many hours before the sun sets.
“Well, good news: I’m not here to kill.” You say, stepping further into the room, boots echoing on the warped floorboards. “I’m just looking for information. A few decades ago, a vampire was trapped here.”
A woman near the bar flinches. “We don’t speak of him.”
Chan left a deep scar on Levanter. Even two centuries later, there are humans still cowering in fear. Though this is not new information. The tales of his river of blood were known long before you stepped into town. Part of your training is the history of elder vampires. To know the full extent of their powers and destruction. All to remind you what these monsters are capable of. That human shell is just a tool to blend in and get close to its prey, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Nothing more.
“Then what of the hunter that stopped him?” you press on. “Was the stake he used silver?”
The townspeople recoil in an instant. Almost as if you threw a lit torch into the room. So much fear for a creature, and yet unwilling to confirm details of the entrapment. Wouldn’t the people want this creature dead?
“We don’t talk about what happened!” someone shouts from the back.
“Do you understand that wood does nothing? It immobilizes him, nothing more.” You say, your voice rising to fill the tavern, leaving no corner untouched. Patience is now long gone. “We’ve told you for years. A silver stake, beheading, or fire until there is no ash.”
No one meets your eyes. All stare at their drinks, their hands, and the floor. Just anywhere but you. These people, despite how terrified they are, have no idea that their worst nightmare could very well repeat at sundown.
“If that stake isn't silver,” you continue, spinning in your heel to acknowledge everyone around you. “Then you will have hellfire descend upon you like you’ve never seen. One of his progeny has found him. He is here to wake him. When he does, you will have hundreds of lives at risk.”
Silence fills the room. The crackle of the logs in the fire and your breathing is all you can hear. Once again the small tavern is suffocating with thick tension. A dense, invisible force pressing against you. Your warning is useless the longer the room is quiet.
Though just as you are about to turn away, ready to accept that fear has sealed their mouths shut, a voice drifts from a shadowed corner. It’s soft and trembling, but unmistakably clear. “He is imprisoned. On the east side of town in catacombs beneath the city.”
You find her in the low light. A middle-aged woman clutching her shawl tight, eyes haunted by the generational tales shared by her family that she clearly wishes she could forget.
You give a small nod. “Thank you.”
Then you step back into the cool morning air, the tavern door slamming shut behind you as if the townfolk need to create distance from you. You may as well be a plague on this city. Hell, those with leprosy may be treated with more kindness than you.
A town siding with vampires?
It simply can not be.
Vampire hunting is not for everyone. These creatures need darkness to keep them safe and tend to crawl into places where humans won’t risk their lives. This means more often than not, you find yourself squeezing through claustrophobic spaces filled with grime and critters. Levanter’s catacombs are no different. The entrance mentioned to you is tucked under a bridge. You nearly missed the iron gate at first glance. Nevertheless, the tight space costs you some supplies on your person. Not ideal, but easier to squeeze yourself through the tiny entry.
After careful consideration, the forest green cloak works well to wrap around what you will leave behind until you return. By the time you enter into the darkened tunnels, all that remains on you is a sheathed sword, a silver stake, vials of holy water attached to your belt, and the torch providing you a source of light.
Limestone making up the walls gradually widens once deeper inside. The path you take isn’t part of the original design. Not ample enough to carry the deceased through. Perhaps as an additional exit added later. At least that’s what you tell yourself as some form of reassurance for not having a map of the maze of tunnels under the city.
To be expected, the people of Levanter have brought many of their population down here as a final resting place. There are carved-out nooks where common folk rest with different stages of decomposition. Those with wealth have more elaborate spaces, with glass panels keeping away pests and grime. The people’s faith doesn’t go unnoticed either, with several large crosses cut into the stone with written messages ranging from simple prayers to dates of tragedies that plagued the city.
Without proper light or a way to tell time, there is no way to know how long you wandered. There was a growing ache in your legs thanks to Hyunjin stealing your horse. It doesn’t deter you. Rather, it ignites a flame inside you to find this creature and drive a stake through his undead heart. Your pace even picks up speed as you find fresh boot prints in the dirt.
The prints guide you further underground, down a path descending at a decline. Temperatures drop as well, making you wish you still kept the cloak wrapped around your body. This would be perfect for a vampire. Deep, where men willingly wouldn’t go, and far away from any source of fresh air. There are fewer nooks of skeletal remains down here. Now only a handful of human skulls are used in rows as some sort of decoration, all leading to a large oak door.
daemonem conclusum tene
Three words etched into the wood. Latin in origin and enough to make you smile. Your search was fruitful. Behind here, a demon lies to be locked away from the world. Or, rather, that would still be locked away, if not for Hyunjin. A large steel lock rests on the ground, broken from the shear force the creature used.
With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you open the door. It takes some effort; the hinges groan from lack of use, and the dirt on the ground causes a resistance, but still you strain your muscles to create just enough of a gap for you to slip into the room.
A room isn’t the right word choice. No, this is a crypt. From ceiling to floor, the walls are lined with stacked skulls. You gasp on closer inspection. These skulls don’t belong to humans. No, each one has a set of fangs where you expected regular teeth. There were no records of such numbers of vampires in Levanter. Hell, the association knows nothing. How could such a place exist?
You press on, moving further into the area, quiet as a mouse. Hyunjin is still here; an elevated heartbeat will give you away. Your training will help only if you can manage your fear. These are dead vampires, you tell yourself. Skulls of these creatures can not hurt you. Nor is it enough for the undead to regenerate. It’s simply decoration.
Eventually you find another source of light. Three torches sit stashed in a set of iron sconces attached to pillars. The fire is bright enough to see how each pillar is used to support the ceiling. However, it's what is in the middle of the space that is far more interesting.
There, surrounded by several candlelit floor-standing candelabras, rests a raised stone slab, being used as a waist-high podium. On top lies a vintage wooden coffin. For a second, that fear dissipates as excitement floods you. This has to be where Chan was brought.
Your torch joins the others, sliding into the empty sconce with ease and freeing your hands to examine the coffin. The wooden lid doesn’t fight, lifting and falling off the slide with a thud. Yet, where a body should reside is empty. The grave liner that serves as padding holds an indent with the memory of someone placed inside. It’s then you see it, tucked to the side, peeking out from the lining. A crudely sharpened piece of wood once used as a stake.
Chan is awake.
Even with fresh blood, it would take Chan some time to regenerate fully. He will be weakened, slower than most, and far easier to kill than Hyunjin in this state. Your hand reaches for your sword, drawing the weapon out. Now is the time to strike and kill this beast before he becomes a real threat.
As you take a step back from the coffin, laughter rings out. It is joyous and deafening as it reverberates off the walls, giving no real sense of the point of origin. It rings out almost to mock you.
Hyunjin.
Your thoughts are confirmed when a familiar voice rings out. “You’re too late, hunter.”
“I still have time.” You answer, your tone still calm and collected. Your hand adjusts the grip on your blade. This chamber has plenty of hiding spaces and not enough light to reach every corner. Hell, even where you stand, the torches spread only a small dome of illumination. Leaving the center of the room is not ideal, but you must find Chan. “I’ll kill him before he fully regenerates.”
“Oh, will you?” The vampire asks while his voice continues to echo through the room. “I think I’ll enjoy watching you try.”
You turn to have the empty coffin at your back, facing the void of darkness. “Come on out, Hyunjin. You and I have our own affairs to settle.”
The vampire doesn’t cave to your goading, and the silence that follows is worse than his laughter. It presses in from every direction, thick and suffocating. Or perhaps it's the lack of fresh oxygen down here not helping. Still, you keep your blade raised, listening for the slightest shift of dirt moving under his feet. Anything to give you a hint to where this creature is.
Movement comes from behind you. You spin, sword slicing through the empty air. A cold rush brushes your shoulder as Hyunjin slips past, too fast to track but not enough to ignore. You lunge again when you spin, yet he’s already gone. The creature is playing with you. A cat with a mouse that he continues to bat at.
“Always so eager,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice curling around you like smoke. “Never fast enough.”
“I hit you once. I can do it again.”
You step towards the torch you brought, keeping your stance tight, refusing to give him your back. You need light you can control. You need your torch. It’s another weapon. One you can use to sweep in the air around you and hope you land a blow against his clothes.
Yet, when you reach for it, a hand clamps around your wrist.
Hyunjin materializes out of the darkness, his grip iron-tight, his smile sharp enough to cut. You attempt to jerk away and break his hold with no success. Instead, he drags you forward with effortless strength, spinning you toward one of the towering floor candelabra. The flames flicker wildly as your shoulder slams into the support pillar beside it.
You raise your sword to strike, although the result is the same as before: the creature is faster. He reaches for the other wrist. Pain erupts from where he slams your hand against the stone. Once, twice, and a third time. The blade falls from your hold, and he kicks it aside, where it skitters across the dirt floor into the darkness and far out of your reach.
The skin of your wrists burns as you twist in his grip. It provides enough room for you to slip free. You waste no time, reaching for the stake on your hips and creating distance. The vampire reacts, reaching for any part of you that his hands can grasp. A cry of pain is wrenched out of you as you pull away from the creature.
Lady luck appears to be on your side once more.
Hyunjin lets out a snarl in frustration as he realizes it's just the scabbard for your sword in his hands. The force he used snapped the buckle holding it on your body. He tosses the strips of leather away, now standing tall.
By now, you are on the other side of the podium, the coffin between you two. You swallow hard, feeling the accelerated heart rate pounding in your skull. You are outmatched for this fight; you have to play this smart. Hyunjin’s frustration is his weakness; it can be used against him.
With that in mind, you reach for Chan’s coffin, and with a firm push you shove the wood off the podium towards Hyunjin. The vampire jumps back with a hiss, avoiding being hit, yet doesn’t notice one of the candelabras get clipped by the coffin. The flames extinguish as the hot wax is thrown his way. Out of reflex, he reaches for the metal rod, ignoring the way the wax burns his skin as it cools. In that split second, you are there, at his back with an arm raised to drive the stake through his undead heart.
Hyunjin spins to face you, the candelabra now a shield against the front of his chest and blocking the blow. The opportunity is gone. Hyunjin now moves on the offensive, swinging the rod towards you. Your feet shuffle backwards to create distance, circling around the podium again. Both of you move with the grace of dancers, unsuccessful in striking the other.
The vampire is attempting to wear you down.
Yes, he’s used his speed to his advantage before now. The game has changed, and this is his plan. You are only human. One who traveled through the Miroh forest to Levanter in a matter of hours on foot. Hell, you barely managed to get a meal in before finding the catcombs. Here you are, wasting more energy to fight him off as more fatigue settles into your muscles.
But to risk the darkness?
Still, you circle around the stone podium, weaving by another candelabra before using your free hand to knock it toward Hyunjin. He knocks it away with little effort, allowing it to clatter and settle in the dirt. You twist your body away as the base of the candelabra he wields arches through the air, aiming for your hand with the stake.
However, you struggle to back away fast enough as Hyunjin goes in for another abrupt swing towards your feet. You cry out as metal connects with your body. The strength he used is enough to knock your legs out from under you, causing you to land in a heap in the dirt. That once firm grip on the stake is gone as it flings itself away from you.
Dirt shifts under your scrambling hands and legs while you scoot away from the approaching creature. An ecstatic smile is back on Hyunjin’s face, enjoying the way you are beginning to panic. He’s successful at cracking your collected demeanor and is thriving in it.
A gasp escapes you when your back connects with one of the pillars. You use the stone as support while you get back on your feet. The stake you dropped is only a few steps away. If you can lunge, you should be successful in retrieving it. If not, then you will keep moving for the one still inside the coffin.
“No, no, no.” Hyunjin chides when you attempt to bolt. “You will stay and play with me, hunter."
Before you can dive after the stake, he wrenches the candelabra in your path, forcing you to remain against the pillar to avoid the blow. The vampire's speed is back, and with a flick of his wrist, he sends the top of the rod against the pillar, pinning one of your wrists between cold metal candle holders and colder stone. Pain shoots up your arm. You bite back a cry.
Hyunjin leans in, his face inches from yours, lit by the trembling firelight of the torches. “And here I thought you came to kill me.”
You twist and struggle, trying to free your hand. The weight of the candelabra is unyielding against your human strength. You can’t reach your stake. You can’t reach the torch beside you. The cat has trapped his mouse successfully.
He tilts his head, studying you like a curious predator he is. “What will you do without your toys?”
“Hyun… Jin,” a voice croaks from deeper inside the crypt. Strained and hoarse from lack of use. “What is all this commotion?”
Chan.
“You think you’re so tough?” Hyunjin taunts, slinking away into the darkness. “Let’s see how you fair against him.”
What the human population doesn’t understand is the presence of elders. Time is the best friend for vampires. These creatures grow stronger and faster and gain new knowledge. It’s almost a new level of evolution these beasts go through, giving even more of an advantage.
There’s movement in the darkness. Your eyes strain to see it. Calm and quiet, shifting as a shadow, slowly enveloping the space as the elder vampire comes closer to the center. The air around you dips even colder and is filled with less oxygen to hold an invisible bind around your body. There is no room for deep breaths, and like a snake, that pressure tightens.
Shallow breathing is good. Lowers your heart rate. It even helps the stench of decay that follows vampires. Similar to before, most humans don’t notice. Though hunters are trained, they are suffocated with the foul odor. All in an attempt to help pick out the faintest of whiffs to help find newborns among the human population.
Though a spike of fear does flood your veins in the form of adrenaline. Chan is older than most. Worlds stronger than a fledgling like Hyunjin. If your lost time means this creature has fed, then plan B might not be successful.
Two orbs appear in the darkness and catch your eyes. A shaky breath from you is loud enough to hear in the still room. Even Hyunjin keeps his playful banter quiet for now.
Tapetum lucidum.
Eyeshine.
“It appears to be fate for you and me to meet, Miss Helsing.” Chan says, stepping into the room’s circle of light. The skin you were expecting to be grey and leathery is neither. Instead, it is flushed with a faint pink, showing how healthy and plump the skin is. Same with his lips as they curl up in a smile. “One of the last descendants and you come alone?”
Chan is fully regenerated.
Your back straightens, your free hand at your side as you continue to push at the iron holding your other wrist in place. Confidence spills from your lips despite the way your heart is pumping faster. “I’m more than capable of handling myself.”
The typical burial gown Chan was noted for wearing is nowhere to be seen. The vampire walks closer barefoot, nice brown linen pants and an unbuttoned white shirt pulled on like some sign of purity. Not a drop of blood on the clothes or his body. No sign of his last feeding. Fangs fully retracted paired with skin holding warmth. Hyunjin could only have beaten you to Levanter by three hours.
That many humans in such a short time?
The elder vampire halts at your feet, head tilted at an angle. "Ah, such fire in those eyes. I wonder what would snuff out that flame."
Chan reaches for the metal rod and, with a speed your brain struggles to process, pulls back. Your hand is finally free for a moment before being yanked above your head. The end of the candelabra enters the stone of the pillar once more, trapping you in place, though Chan has you pulled high, on your tiptoes.
Gears shift and panic sinks in. There is no hiding from him now. There is no avoiding this creature. Instead, you are a rabbit with a limb in a snare trap. Your free hand reaches up, tugging at the metal, desperate to wedge it free more than ever.
“How curious I am about you.” The vampire continues to talk as you struggle. “A Helsing in my presence. It’s been years.”
“I have no words for you.” You say while keeping Chan in your peripheral vision.
“Your grandfather is nothing but a dying legend here. Do you know that?”
“Yes.” You answer, sweaty, shaky fingers trying to squirm around your wrist. Just a little more and you will be free. “I noticed the hospitality of the village.”
Hyunjin speaks up, the direction of his voice not quite discernible. “Protection is a powerful thing, hunter.”
You halt your struggle. Hyunjin may as well have handed you the last piece in the puzzle. Chan was supposedly slumbering for two hundred years. Even with the stolen horse, the human blood it would take for a regeneration would need days to arrange. Hyunjin left with nothing but the clothes he wore. Then you have to account for the humans at the tavern. The people held genuine fear for Chan. You were an enemy to their peace.
Chan was never imprisoned.
Somewhere a tale was spun, giving a falsehood to the church, the association, and even you. Everything you read to prepare yourself was fabricated by the people of Levanter. Either by choice or compulsion. This creature was awake, growing stronger every day, and here you are as a dessert, waiting to be consumed.
Chan’s voice grows lower, meant for your ears only. “And to think, I get such a wonderful gift in return.”
You swallow the lump that formed in your throat. Again, your heartbeat ticks faster despite you willing it not to. Finally, you cave, lowering your eyes to look at the vampire in front of you directly.
“Unless…” Chan pauses as he closes the distance between you two. You can feel the way his body loses heat as the human blood is processed in his system. His eyes scan your frame before backing up to your eyes. “Do you beg as pretty as you look, human?”
“I do not beg those beneath me.” You say, voice cracking. The words came out impulsively despite the lack of confidence. You should hold your tongue and try not to antagonize the creature in front of you.
Chan’s lips twitch, fighting the urge to grin. "Oh, how you humans are so fascinating. A little lamb in front of a wolf so willingly yet pretends to have claws.”
“Just kill me and get it over with.”
There’s movement behind Chan, right on the edge of where the torch illumination ends and darkness begins. Hyunjin pokes his head out of the shadows, his body still hiding behind a support pillar. “After all the effort I went through to get you here? That would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”
Hyunjin is of sound mind.
He has to be. Hunters struggled to track Hyunjin because he didn’t want to be found. He deliberately went into hiding to cover his tracks. The association would assign a new hunter once he popped up. He repeated the process until you found him. You were the goal. This is why he ran last night. If he were to die by your hand, not only would he cease to exist, but he would let down his maker.
You were a promised gift to Chan. Not from the people of Levanter. No, from Hyunjin. A gift from a fledgling to their sire of the utmost rarity. A vampire hunter from a line of career royalty now practically on a silver platter. There was nothing else that could compare, and you played into his hands perfectly.
“Is this what you do?” You ask, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin. “Bring him hunters while the city turns a blind eye?”
A giggle rings out. Hyunjin peaks from the other side of the pillar, a frenzied smile back on his face. “I told you that you wouldn't like it if we met again.”
Chan steps to the side, moving into your line of sight and blocking your view of the other vampire. “So, human, how does this game of ours play out? You say you do not beg, but what else is there to do?”
When hunters are in training, one of the first rules taught is never to look a vampire directly in the eye. Many of these creatures are capable of compulsion, a power that is a form of mind control. The association is unsure how it works, but there are only a handful of ways to avoid subcombing or breaking free from the spell it causes.
Even with that rule in the back of your mind, you don’t look away as you speak. “I do not beg those who are below me.”
Sharp nails dig into the base of your throat with a vice grip, driving the air out of your lungs in a surprise gasp. Chan doesn’t miss the opportunity to press his palm flat against your windpipe. Not to close off the airway. No, he’s much crueler, leaving just enough airflow to keep you conscious as he speaks. “Hyunjin, do you know what I like about these kinds of gifts? They all crave that adrenaline rush. Get off on it too. Her cunt gives her away before the heartbeat does.”
Your strained voice is nothing more than a croak. “Shut…up.”
“You’re brave for speaking back to me. Instigating to get a rise out of me.” Chan smiles wide, truly humored by you. He doesn’t even acknowledge the way you claw at his skin, scraping at flesh to deter his grip. The taunt continues instead. “I know your kind. All I need to do is give that pretty little mouth of yours something better to do.”
Those words freeze you. No, he wouldn’t. Surely, he doesn’t mean such a sin.
“Ah?” Chan comments, eyebrow raised in question. “So now you realize how serious of a predicament you are in. You’re running out of time to plead, and I’m envisioning plenty of creative ideas about how I want to handle you."
The lack of a response only spurs on the vampire. Chan drives a knee between your thighs; firm muscles press higher against you, making it harder for you to keep your footing. Your hand is no longer at his wrist. Instead, you press the sweaty palm against the pillar, sliding against the smooth rock for a grip. All the while your feet scramble on the tips of your boots, trying to raise yourself higher to get away from grinding against the intrusive limb.
“Do you understand? If I wanted to, I could make you docile. Make you obedient. But I don’t want to do that. That’s far too easy.” He says, his tone indifferent to your struggle.
Chan is too close. The weight of his body against yours. His strong thigh was pressing higher. That smell of decay and earth is too much, and there is not enough oxygen. Your throat burns with need as this vampire tests your fragile human limits. In that silence as he ponders his decision, you may actually pass out.
“No, I think I’ll play with you. Break you into submission. That would be more rewarding. Watching your little spirit crush as you realize that your obedience will be the only thing letting you live.”
Chan’s hand moves, now pressing those nails into the flesh of your chin, turning your head to force eye contact. Your lips shallowly part to bring in air you desperately need. The hunger in the red irises bore into you as a way meant to intimidate that increasing fear inside you. He is staring down another to establish dominance. The predator in him wants your focus on him and him alone. All tactics you are more than familiar with. All vampires carry the same ego, proud bastards that thrive off making their prey feel nothing more than being at the mercy of the beast.
“Can you handle that humiliation?” He asks, leaning close enough his lips nearly brush your own as he speaks. “Knowing you will become a plaything for the very creature you swore to kill. Or is that pussy leaking against my thigh because that’s what you want me to do?”
Your voice comes out so small, so foreign-sounding to you. “No…”
“No?” Chan echoes, fake surprise on his face for half a second, before morphing into an amused grin. “I have a hard time believing you. Your body is saying otherwise.”
The candelabra holding your wrist above you clatters to the floor. The colors of the room blur. Chan pulls you away from the pillar to a nearby stone podium. He harshly deposits you on top, and before you can grip your bearings, both creatures are upon you. Hyunjin fights your flailing arms until both are pinned down on either side of your head. Across from him, Chan climbs nimbly to slip between your thrashing legs, his own knees digging into the meat of your thighs to hold you open and in place while he stares down at you.
“Get off of me!” You scream, still writhing under the iron grip, trying to find one little weakness to break free.
There's no response from Chan. His hands work at the belt on your hips, undoing the buckle on the piece of leather to pull your supplies off and away from your body. He tosses away the small vials of holy water one by one; the glass containers shatter on impact across the lid of his coffin. More and more of your fight is leaving your body, watching how the old wood soaks up the moisture.
“Tell me, have you actually killed a vampire?” Chan asks, intrigued. A corner of his lips raises when a snarl slips out. His tone becomes more aggressive with your silence. “Answer me, human!”
“Yes, yes, I have!” you sputter out, flinching at the sudden shift from his calm manner.
“Really?” Hyunjin asks, leaning forward enough to be in your line of sight. The ends of his long locks tickle your cheeks. “Were they slumbering?”
“No.” You snap back, a defensive whine in your voice. “They were wide awake.”
With the belt empty and tossed away, Chan reaches for the last piece of protection on your body. A chain that usually dangles around your neck. He tugs harshly to break the thin links before dangling the necklace from his hand to examine the silver cross. The very one gifted by the church to the hunter association. Each hunter receives one as a reward when completing their training. Now it catches the light from the torches, completely useless to you.
Chan’s eyes trail from the cross over to you. “How close to God do you want to be, human? Do you want to meet him?”
“I—I don’t…” Your words trail off, unsure how to answer.
“Of course, you don’t.” Chan supplies while tossing the cross away. Both hands return to your body, right at the valley between your breasts. His fingers curl under the edge of your corset to grip and pull harshly. The fabric and boning holding the material together shred from the force, like paper. “I will test your faith today. No, I’ll test your will. See how much you can endure.”
Just like the vials of holy water, the remnants of the corset are removed from around your frame. Your lungs expand, despite the shallow, panicked breaths you take. Chan’s hands are already gripping the thin material of your blouse, the only piece keeping you from being exposed to the monster.
“No! Don’t!” You cry out. “Stop!”
“You can beg at anytime, human.”
Tears burn at your lash line as your mantra spills out of you again. “I do not beg those below me.”
“Then we continue.” Chan responds while he rips the fabric. This time, buttons fling in different directions from the motion. He observes the goosebumps forming along your uncovered skin, unfazed by the way you try to turn away from him with little success. “What a pretty body you’re hiding. Makes my teeth ache the longer you’re under me. You should be warming someone’s bed, not out here hunting monsters you can’t fight.”
“Then fight me fairly!”
Chan laughs, dark and mean, while cutting through the fabric away from your arms. “Human, you were never going to win that fight. I admire your spirit though.”
This can’t continue. You can’t allow these creatures to win like this. Though Chan doesn’t budge when you attempt to buck him off of you. It only causes him to press down harder against your thighs, causing you to shout out. Your wrists aren’t faring any better. Hyunjin’s nails press into the sore flesh, ready to sever the skin if you try to turn away. You’re completely trapped and at their mercy. And that smug expression on Chan’s face terrifies you.
Speaking of said vampire, he pierces into the fabric of your pants and shreds the material protecting your crotch with ease. He pauses briefly to admire the wet spot where the underwear sticks to your folds. His nostrils flare and your stomach sinks; he can smell your arousal from where he sits. The heat of embarrassment or shame runs through your body like a forest fire consuming a hayfield. There’s no hiding the truth now.
Just like your other clothing, he rips the thin layer separating him from your most intimate spot. You gasp as the cold air in the tomb is jarring against your wet pussy. All the fight in your limbs truly fizzles out in shock or anticipation of how far this will go.
“Look at that,” Chan remarks, eyes locked on your cunt. He traces a single finger along the slick folds, teasing the entrance without pushing inside. “I don’t think all this is from your fight with Hyunjin.”
“Oh, hunter.” Hyunjin practically purrs, watching the finger glisten in the low light. “You are making tonight far more interesting now.”
“Indeed.” Chan says, his attention back on you. “I’ll make you a deal, human. Admit it. Admit you wanted this, and we’ll stop. Say you came looking for us.”
“I came looking to kill you, not for this.”
Now, Hyunjin has built muscle on his body like most working men of his time. The vampire is a young fledgling but is greater in strength than a human. The elder, on the other hand, has a bulkier frame. One of tireless efforts to become mightier. Before turning, he may have been able to pull a whole carriage on his own. Though as the monster who is well-fed, Chan is unyielding with his stature.
Chan shifts, easing the pressure against your thighs. Yet, when you try to move during that brief moment of freedom, the blood flow goes back to your legs, and pins and needles travel along every nerve, stopping any communication from your brain. The vampire expects as much, taking his time to settle himself lower between your thighs, face inches away from your pussy. Both of his brawny arms hook around your thighs to keep them open and precisely where he wants you. He might as well be a set of shackles.
Despite your efforts to dwell on that hatred for this beast, somewhere lower in your body, your core twists with sparks of lust you do not wish for. Such a display shouldn’t excite you. His arrogant smirk is supposed to fuel your rage. He is entertaining such an atrocity as a way to terrorize you. The pair must be lying about having pets. If there were news about an elder vampire keeping hunters as playthings, then you would know. The association would know of such transgressions.
Wouldn't they?
“If you have nothing else to say, I will enjoy my gift.”
“Don’t!” you demand, your voice shaking as the control over your panic slips away from your grasp.
“Or what, hunter?” Hyunjin taunts with a squeak of delight. “What can you do?”
A whine slips past your lips at the first contact of Chan’s tongue running flat along the length of your slit, simply tasting the wetness that’s formed. Your hips shift at any angle you can, trying to get away from the intrusive touch. No matter how you attempt to move your limbs, both creatures keep you in place.
“Did I pick well, sire?”
“She’s delectable.” Chan answers, not bothering to pause his torture more than he needs to. “Men would die for a nectar this sweet.”
His words should hold no effect over you. Yet, your body can’t halt that bolt of desire coursing through your nerves. Chan’s teasing is delightful. No, more like heavenly after years of abstinence to focus on your career. This monster is pressing his tongue inside you, tip chasing that wetness your pussy continues to leak to appease him. How can you make your body not react when his actions are so sinfully enticing?
“No… Ah!” you whimper out. “S-Stop this madness!”
Chan ignores your words; his tongue now moves up to your clit, prodding at the button of nerves as if he were here to show his affection to a partner he hadn't seen in years. No matter how many times you blink, the obscene sight of an elder vampire in between your thighs doesn’t go away.
This isn’t a nightmare. It’s real and happening. No help is coming; no one in the association knows your location. You took on this task alone. And here you are, at the mercy of those who have no moral compass. This vampire is driving his tongue faster. A beast of its own, teasing and prodding your clit to stimulate you even more. He behaves as a man striking cold water on a hot day. He craves your approaching orgasm more than anything. He craves that victory against your body he knows will be inevitable.
“Beg me, human.” He mumbles against your slick cunt. “Beg me to let you come.”
“No,” you say more to yourself than him. His gaze is so commanding even without compulsion. You can’t allow yourself to succumb to this demon. He’s having fun, trying to humiliate you into defeat. He will grow bored eventually. All you have to do is endure. You shut your eyes once more, trying to block Chan’s fierce eyes out of your memory. “I don't beg those beneath me!”
“Then I’ll stay here all night, between these beautiful thighs. We’ll see who cracks first.”
“Give him what he wants, hunter.” Hyunjin’s lips brush your ear. “Then you can have that sweet relief.”
“No! I won’t!” you say with the venom you can muster up.
All your life you have spent years training your stamina, your endurance level, and your pain tolerance. Years of teaching you to expect these bloodsuckers to try to kill you without hesitation. That these creatures will bite and feed till you are too weak to fight. Nothing taught you how to handle this kind of torture.
Your mind wanders back to the lessons you were taught. The church and the association drill many of their shared beliefs into you. Now it will be a lifeline. Sin is only as strong as you allow it. The very words you used to repeat daily now will be another opportunity to solidify those principles as your own. You will overcome this test.
Another whine leaves you, and Hyunjin doesn't miss the opportunity to weasel in his thoughts to break you, like some sort of devil on your shoulder. “Hunter, there’s no need to cling to your shame here.”
Your entire body tenses. The promise of release is right there. One more little push off the edge, another harsh suck, or just one more lick across your clit from Chan will do it. How desperately you want to embrace it. Let it crash into you like a mighty storm’s waves smashing against the cliffs. Let yourself indulge that sinful orgasm that is calling out to you worse than any temptation Eve herself faced.
Satisfaction never happens.
Chan pulls away, letting that high dissipate in disappointment.
Your cries filled the crypt, a mix of frustration and raw desire; your arms continue pulling uselessly against Hyunjin’s grasp. Chan only stares emotionless at you when your eyes open. The lower half of his face glistens with your wetness before diving back in to resume his assault.
This time his plush lips seal around your clit again to suck hard, while fingers slide along your slit to tease your entrance, shallowly dipping inside. Your pussy throbs with need, begging him for more even if you speak the opposite. The creature is listening to how your body responds with practiced ease. He is building you up so relentlessly, over and over, denying you sweet release each time, until your entire body quivers on the brink and every nerve in your body screams with agonizing need.
There was no enduring any longer. Not with the way those two thick fingers finally breach deeper inside you. Chan pumps his fingers aggressively. He’s not preparing you for a cock like a gentleman would. No, he’s playing with how much wetness has formed, making sure you can hear the squelches over the noises slipping past your lips.
“Please.”
Chan’s mouth pauses the sweet assault on your clit to speak against your skin. “I can’t hear you, human. Say it louder.”
“Please.” You beg, eyes wretched shut as you manage the internal debate of what you are begging for. Is it for him to kill you, to stop, or to let you come? All of them would sound the same right now. “Please let me come.”
The vampire doesn’t halt his actions this time around.
Chan groans in approval when you come, the vibrations adding to the height of your explosive orgasm. He’s fascinated with the fresh wave of wetness he can play with. There’s so much now, enough to the point even you can feel it dripping down onto the podium you rest on. His fingers never stop, pumping and prodding as the walls of your pussy spasm around the digits.
To silence the moans Chan is wringing out of you, your teeth sink into the meat of your arm in some effort aimed at curbing the pleasure with pain. Hyunjin’s light airy giggle is against your ear again. “Do you hear yourself, hunter? If he were human, he’d drown.”
No, you don't want to accept that the whorish sounds filling the room are coming from you. You are at war. Not only with these monsters but also with a body proudly betraying you, accepting the attention with open arms. None of this should be happening; this was not how events were supposed to unfold. Certainly, this madness will end soon; Chan has won. He proved his point.
After what seems like a lifetime, the overwhelming rush dies out, leaving your high-strung body to relax against the stone. Your chest heaves with your panting, desperate to catch your breath. Hyunjin doesn’t even need to hold your arms down. He is free to circle around the podium, buzzing with the excitement of such a display.
The fatigue settling in has left you spineless. There isn’t enough energy to close thighs when Chan pulls away. Or even kick when Chan manages to remove your boots and what fabric remains of your pants. You accept being completely naked in front of vampires. Possibly, there is a chance God will pity your fight and allow your racing heart to give out in the next minute, and you won’t have to worry about your fate any longer.
“Well, human, you beg as prettily as you look.” Chan murmurs, his voice rougher than before. “Unfortunately for you, I want to hear more.”
“No… No more,” you whine out. You are defeated, with a broken spirit. “I can’t.”
“It’s not your decision, is it?” The vampire responds, and his hands find your body again. This time it's to guide you to a different position.
The room spins as you are flipped over. He’s gentle, with no rush as you struggle to get on your hands and knees. At least like this you don’t have to deal with the heat of his gaze on you. Nor do you have to see the way Hyunjin wants to devour you. In fact, the stone feels cool against your forehead. Some solace at least.
“There we go.” Chan mutters to himself, palms finding your back, pressing your front to the stone, creating an arch in your spine. His hands trail to your hips, rubbing reassuring circles while he settles behind you. “This is how I’d have you present yourself to me every night. Naked and waiting as long as I wanted.”
An hour ago his coffin lay here, undisturbed. And now here you are, displayed like some kind of concubine for a king’s enjoyment. It’s a wonder how many times this creature has done this. Perhaps even when he was a human, so now it's merely second nature.
The elder keeps speaking, smug and unfazed by the return of Hyunjin’s excited, airy giggles. “I think you’d like that, human. No thoughts, no responsibilities, no expectations. Just forced to enjoy sweet sins.”
You mumble into the stone below you. “You’re wrong.”
Chan’s cold skin burns against your flushed skin as he leans down to your ear. “Am I?” Sharp fangs nip at your earlobe, causing you to turn away from him. A chuckle reverberates through the vampire's chest and against your back. “You can deny it all you want, but we know how you crave it. It’s why this pretty pussy is dripping for my cock.”
“Please, just let me go.” You plead, your voice hoarse. “Please.”
You will leave Levanter, and you won’t return to the association. No one will know the truth of Chan not being imprisoned. No one would know about the last descent of your family or her record of kills. Anything. You will give him anything he wishes to end this madness.
“That opportunity has passed us,” Chan speaks, loud enough to cover the sound of rustling fabric.
You gasp in surprise at the sudden pressure against your hole. Instead of fingers, Chan guides the head of his cock inside. It’s enough to make your eyes roll back as Chan bullies the wide girth of his cock inside your tight pussy. There’s no rush, sinking an inch at a time, allowing both of you to savor every detail until his hips are flush against your own. Your walls cave to the size so willingly and are so welcoming to take him in.
“Oh human,” Chan groans, forehead pressing against your back. “Your tight cunt doesn’t want to let me go.”
Betrayal of the upmost form. Because the vampire is right. Even with the slickness aiding him, your cunt clenches around him, not wanting to lose that satisfaction of being filled so completely. The internal battle gets you nowhere; no matter how hard you will your body to listen, it refuses. Instead, it begs you to embrace a lust you didn’t think was a necessity to survive this lifetime.
Your hands cling to the edge of the podium, knuckles white, searching for some sort of grounding. Even with the vampire physically draped half over you, and there is no fear of falling forward, you need to prepare yourself for the sudden drive behind the vampire’s thrusts. Unlike his initial ease, the vampire abandons the softness for a pace far more animalistic the second he’s able to.
“How spoiled I am,” Chan grunts, sounding satisfied and oblivious of how you try to shrink away from him. “Your body accepts me so beautifully. I almost forget you are supposedly an enemy.”
Fine, you think, no longer fighting the vampire above you. You will play the part he wants. Let him think he has eradicated every ounce of fight from you. Let him goad and proclaim his success to Hyunjin. Now is the time to recover that energy. If the vampire thinks you have succumbed to the defeat, then that opens the opportunity to strike against him. In the end, it’ll be you that has the satisfaction of witnessing his demise. You will drive a silver stake through his heart and dance in the ashes that will remain once he’s gone.
Your body relaxes briefly, and Chan notices, “There we go. Have we accepted our fate?”
It takes all your might to sink your teeth into your tongue. However, the vampire doesn’t enjoy your silence. Chan hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you up and away from the stone podium. Both of your hands scramble to reach any expanse of his flesh in a panic. Once again the reality of the situation is in view. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the low light after keeping them shut for so long. There is no moving away as your back rests against his firm chest. You cry out at the new angle as he continues to drive his cock even deeper.
Hyunjin has moved front and center, eyes wide with awe. You stare back, with the heat of the sun in your glare as a hand of his slips down over his pants to cup the growing bulge there. The disgust inside you is embraced. Hyunjin will meet his demise after tonight's events are over. You will take your time. Maybe let the sunlight gradually burn his limbs.
“Don’t disappear in that pretty little head of yours.” Chan says in your ear. His free hand brings yours to your stomach and holds it in place. Every thrust up, you can feel the way your skin extends slightly. “Feel it, human. What would your beloved association think if they saw you like this? If they saw how you are enjoying it?”
Thoughts swim through your head. Faces of instructors, friends, and colleagues flash. You would never be accepted again. Ostracized, while every rank and mark you earned through evaluations would be stripped away. The only small saving grace would be that there is no family to disown you. News would travel, following you through every city as you try to find footing. Gossip about how you lost to the beast, how Chan's full length is dizzying, and maybe even how you still have to fight your body for self-control to keep from begging him for more.
Before you can even brace, another orgasm takes you by surprise. Your grip tightens, clinging to Chan even though his hold on you is iron. That familiar white-hot pleasure courses through you. It’s explosive and all-consuming. Any thoughts in your brain melt away to mush. There is no Hyunjin in front of you, and the vampire driving his cock faster inside you is nothing more than an experienced lover at that moment.
“Oh god,” you gasp out. “Please, it’s too much.”
“Again?” Chan asks with a hint of amusement in his tone. “Such a greedy body.”
Such heights shouldn’t be possible. Such a nirvana isn’t supposed to exist. The teachings were right. These creatures are demons walking this earth to destory lives. Chan is planting a seed of corruption inside of you, in hopes it will grow and ruin any values instilled in you. The mental fortitude it's taking to resist is more draining than the exhaustion in your muscles. You must stay strong.
Movement from Hyunjin draws your attention. He takes his time undoing his pants, pushing the material down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around the length as he begins to stroke his half-hard cock. Not once does he ask to play with the toy he gifted. You don’t expect him to. He’s far too loyal to his sire. Witnessing his maker’s dominance should be enough for the bastard to come where he stands.
“Human, we're going to play nicely, right?” Chan speaks softly into your ear. Calm and collected, unbothered by the exertion it takes to keep driving his cock inside you. “Because if you bite him, he’s gonna bite back.”
Your mind reels at such a suggestion. An elder being willing to share with a fledgling is unheard of. The only time humans are shared is when newborns are learning to feed. It’s the same as a predator teaching their young to take down prey. There’s no reason to share. Unless this is about the duo pushing the limits of their humiliation.
Hyunjin continues to grin at your sudden revelation. The bastard raises an eyebrow in question of what your answer would be. He doesn’t have to wait long; your voice comes out quiet, though the two can hear your words with ease. “I’ll behave.”
“Good answer,” Chan praises, lowering you back onto your hands and knees. He follows up with a handful of words that make you hopeful. “Show me how you worship a cock and I’ll consider letting you go after this.”
Hope is such a deceitful emotion. The logical part of your brain knows Chan’s words are a lie. Yet, the hunter in you, determined to survive, is willing to entertain the task. The plan brewing in you doesn’t change. If anything, it proves you are playing your role perfectly. And may this brief indulgence in wickedness lower their defenses further.
To your surprise, Hyunjin is gentle despite how aggressive his combat was. One hand cups your chin, fingers pressing featherlight to encourage your mouth to open. You don’t fight, allowing him to feed the tip of his cock past your lips, resting it on your tongue. He doesn’t move or order, leaving the control in your hands.
You are far from a virtuous person. Nevertheless, there are standards among your colleagues. You are expected to maintain a certain level of professionalism, though neither the church nor the association can stop you from pursuing certain aspirations in life. You may have a partner, kids, or land. It’s just not ideal when the job requires travel and dedication. The abstinence you instilled in yourself is controlled by you. Your mission to track Hyunjin took all of your time and resources, and here you are in such a compromising position with the vampire.
At first your lips close around his length, keeping every practiced move mechanical. The bob of your head, the way your tongue rests flat under the length, letting his cock move in and out while another vampire continues to fuck you.
“Mmm, hunter,” Hyunjin groans low, lost in bliss. His eyes threaten to roll back into his skull. “Thought about this our last meeting. I should have taken advantage of it.”
Chan’s grip on your hips tightens. He’s watching his fledgling use his gift, and it’s getting to him. Vampires are greedy creatures by nature, leading them to be protective over their prey. How interesting would it be if you could cause a rift between the two?
You push back onto Chan’s cock, meeting his thrusts and taking him as deep as you can. At the same time, let your cheeks hollow and suck the cock in your mouth with purpose. Your tongue swirls around the tip, saliva dripping down the length. You’re rewarded with Hyunjin growing more vocal with his moans.
Chan’s thrusts get rougher. You match his pace, rocking back and forth between the two vampires, letting the cock in your mouth slide further down your throat while your pussy clenches around the other. Spit runs down your chin. Your throat relaxes even further as your tongue continues teasing. Your tits sway with every thrust. All actions double your effort. A whore's intent to ruin the men she’s with.
“You are no hunter, human.” Chan scoffs, pushing against the back of your head, forcing you to take more of Hyunjin’s cock into your mouth. You gag around the length and brace a hand against Hyunjin’s firm thigh to push him back. Just like the stone pillars, he doesn’t budge an inch or say a word as his maker continues to speak, the tone growing more condescending. “However, you would make a great pet.”
You can’t help but moan around the cock in your mouth. Maybe words of protest or something else that could sound like agreement. Chan will never know; he can only assume. Though the way your pussy is leaking down the back of your thighs might be telling enough.
It’s to no one’s surprise that yet another orgasm overruns you. Regardless of your previous highs being so intense, the current one still maintains that level of euphoria. The vampires let you enjoy every second, enabling you to be as greedy as you want.
The events of today change yet again. After a handful of thrusts, Chan disappears from behind you. Speaking only two words. “Take her.”
“Thank you, sire.”
The cock in your mouth retracts, and Hyunjin leaves you. You freeze where you are on the podium watching the two vampires alternatively walk around the stone podium to trade places. Anticipation twists your stomach. This whole ordeal is not over. Though where there should be disgust is being chipped away with a crushing craving for more.
“Hunter, how do you like to be fucked?” Hyunjin asks, flipping you onto your back. He slips between your thighs with no resistance from you. “Bred like a dog or something softer? Do you prefer to be taken like an obedient wife who is being rewarded?”
The only response the vampire gets is a moan slipping past your lips while Hyunjin sinks his cock inside you. He doesn’t share the girth of Chan but mirrors the length that kisses your insides so perfectly. Hyunjin’s hands run over your body, free to explore every inch until he settles on your breasts. He fondles and kneads the soft skin as he settles into a pattern of sensual rolls of his hips. Hyunjin isn’t fucking with dominance. No, it’s softer, more intimate, and less focused on his own pleasure.
All while the elder vampire watches.
Eventually, the fledgling gets bored. Hyunjin maneuvers how he wants you, one leg hitched over his shoulder and the other around his waist. His thrusts are just as fluid, though now is when the pace picks up, becoming more aggressive. He ruts as deep as he can hit. That cocky smirk returns to his face, and you want so badly to reach up and smack it off his face.
Instead, you cling to the edge of the stone podium, letting him taunt you. “He’s right, hunter. Far better at taking a cock than fighting.”
Chan leans down to get closer to you. He coos at your slackened mouth, enjoying the little gasps being punched out of you. “I don’t think I can let you go, human.”
You turn your head away, trying to ignore him. It’s childish behavior, but it's all you can do. It’s all you can control in the current situation.
“No, don't hide away.” A hand finds your cheek, turning your face back to him. You look at the vampire, watching Chan’s pupils dilate. He’s attempting to use his compulsion. “Keep looking at me.”
Truthfully, the vampire doesn’t need to tap into his powers; you can’t look away if you want to. His fangs fully elongate, peaking from under his plush lips. He’s aching to feed, yet he’s going on with a speech, spewing truths about you. “You’re addicted, human. Seeking out what a man can’t give you. Because we fuck better, deeper, and harder, kissing those intimate spots a man doesn’t even know of. You forget who you are to the point all you can conjure up is one word.”
Your lips tremble but no words come out. The building pressure of yet another orgasm is coming. No thanks to Hyunjin’s fluid thrusts and Chan’s words. He leans closer, letting his lips brush your own. “You know the word I want to hear again. Say it.”
“Please.”
Your words spur on Hyunjin. His hips snap faster, cock burying inches deeper inside of you. His giggle fills the room as needy whimpers spill past your lips. You want it. You want that orgasm. The sin of greed be damned.
Chan gives a one-word command spoken right against your lips. “Come.”
The wave of pleasure crashes into you a second later. Vision blurs the point where you can no longer even see the vampire in front of you. Nor do you fight when plush lips connect to yours, swallowing down every little noise you make as his tongue invades past your lips to explore. You accept what the vampires give you with open arms.
When Chan pulls away, you swallow down mouthfuls of air. Your head is fuzzy from the pleasure and the lack of air. You are at your limit. Your body will break if they continue. The cusp of passing out is there. Hell, death may even be waiting for you.
Yet, Chan wants to push you further.
His hand sneaks down, past your stomach, between your thighs, right where Hyunjin is connected to your body. Two fingers find your swollen clit and begin what could only be considered torture at this point.
“Stop, I can’t!” You demand with real panic. “No more. Please!”
“You will, human.” Chan says calmly, his fingers rubbing messy circles just how you like. “We go again.”
Your own hands reach for his arm, blunt nails digging into the flesh of his hand, clawing to pull him away from your clit; it’s too much. You can’t continue. The pleasure is turning painful with the overstimulation. You can’t survive more. Chan is undeterred by your attempts, fingers circling your swollen clit with perfect precision and pressure.
“Please, Chan! I beg of you!”
“Don’t disobey me now. You’ve been so obedient.” Chan's praise is louder than your protests. “You will give me another.”
“Chan, please!” You cry, tears along your lash line. “It hurts. I can’t.”
“One more. You’ve been the perfect gift tonight. One more and it’s over.”
Your body appeases the vampire. Despite the sensitivity in your clit, another orgasm hits. Your thighs tremble violently, and Hyunjin is forced to tighten his grip on the limbs. He curses to himself as your pussy spasms around his cock again so soon, overwhelming even him. Even with how you thrash, he’s still able to keep driving his cock inside you for the duration of your pleasure.
True to his word, everything stops. Chan’s fingers retract, and he shakes off your trembling hands from his arm. Hyunjin stills but keeps himself buried inside you, wanting direction from his maker. The moment lets you take stock of your well-being. Your heart pounds, slamming against your rib cage with a force that throbs. Your lungs expand, though you struggle for enough air as you pant. Head to toe, your muscles ache from exhaustion. If the plan was to break you, the vampires succeeded.
You watch as Chan drags a nail across one of your breasts. The room is silent as blood swells up to the surface of the scratch. He swipes one finger through the streak to cover the pad before bringing it to his lips for a taste. After this whole ordeal, the creatures who survive off blood have finally taken the first drop of your life force.
There’s a hint of disgust in the elder’s voice. “I wondered what your backup plan was. Is this how you kill your vampires? Dance around in sin, then let them feed on this poison?”
“No.” You shake your head, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, hunter.” Hyunjin scoffs; his once giddy self is gone, replaced by a demeanor far more serious than you have witnessed from him. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out? That word wouldn’t travel?”
“Newborns can’t taste vervain. It’s why the vampires you killed would ingest your blood willingly.” Chan elaborates. “However, for those of us who are older, we can build tolerance.”
Pain erupts from your calf. You glance over in time to witness Hyunjin sinking his fangs into the meat of the muscle, throat bobbing with every mouthful he swallows down. He’s not bothered by the vervain. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, lost in the rush of warm blood.
“Did you even consider that I would protect my own? Vampire hunters have bounties on their heads. Did you know that?”
Chan’s words hang in the air the longer you watch Hyunjin feed. You strived to have minimal witnesses with every newborn you eliminated over the years. Hell, you don’t even carry a bite mark until now. These two vampires have continued to surprise you with the knowledge they have acquired about you. You must find their source. Bring it to light for the association and church to know. That’s if you can manage to get out of this crypt alive.
Despite how disadvantaged you were against these two, you held hope. A small candle inside you that was protected at all costs. No matter how your plans shifted or adapted. You were going to evolve the strategy and find a way to be successful.
The flame is extinguished now.
“Oh, the actress shows real fear,” Chan coos. An amused smile back on his face. “Will I kill you? Will I make you the very monster you hunted? Or will I keep you and parade you around like the prize you are?”
His words are a facade. All to make you ponder when you already know the answer. He forgets you can recite a majority of his brutality front to back thanks to the lengthy track record of violence. The church owns several books of his destruction. Though clearly not complete by what you learned tonight.
It’s enough knowledge to know there is a reason you are still breathing, why he’s allowing his fledgling to feed from you, and why he gazes at you with such fondness. Your stomach twists, nausea forming and causing stomach bile to burn the back of your throat. It’s not from the blood loss either.
“If you were going to kill me, you would have already.”
“Yes,” Chan answers, knuckles caressing your flushed cheek. The touch is so gentle. A husband showing tenderness even if his words are the opposite. “I have no desire to kill you. You’re too much fun to play with.”
Series Masterlist.
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Synopsis: Between raising their daughter and finding each other in stolen moments, Chris cherishes the family they’ve built and the future still waiting for them. (15,2k words)
Author's note: Someone asks for domestic Chan? Well, here's your order. Hope you enjoy it ❣️
The first thing Chris feels is you.
Your warmth pressed against him, the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your hair spills over the pillow in a mess he wants to tangle his fingers in. He blinks awake slowly, the room still dim with early morning light, and instinct pulls him closer before he’s even fully conscious.
He slides an arm around your waist, fitting himself against your back like your bodies were designed to fall into this shape. He noses lightly at the curve of your shoulder, inhaling that familiar scent that always, always settles something deep in his chest.
God, he loves waking up like this. Loves that this is his life now.
He presses a slow kiss to your shoulder. Then another. And another, moving toward your neck, savoring the tiny shiver your body gives even in sleep. Your skin is warm under his lips, soft and inviting, and he can’t resist trailing a line of lazy kisses along the slope of your neck.
You stir and he smiles against your skin before lifting his head. He leans in and softly kisses your lips, a gentle coaxing meant to bring you into the morning.
Your eyelids flutter open, heavy with sleep, and then you see him. Just see him. And you smile. Sleepy, warm, impossibly sweet.
Chris feels his heart pull tight in his chest.
Years. Years of marriage, years of waking up beside you and it still hits him the same way. How lucky he is. How unreal it sometimes feels that he gets to love you like this, quietly, closely, every single morning.
“Morning,” you whisper, voice raspy and soft.
His own smile widens as he leans in and kisses you longer this time, slow enough to savor. “Morning, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.
He pulls back just enough to kiss your forehead… then the bridge of your nose… then your temple. He could kiss every inch of you if mornings weren’t so short. If life didn’t always call him away.
“What time is it?” you mumble, eyes half-closed as you press your face into the pillow.
Chris doesn’t even think about checking. He doesn’t want to break the moment, doesn’t want to bring reality into this warm little world of just you and him.
“I’ll make breakfast,” he says instead, brushing his hand soothingly down your arm. “You can sleep a little more.”
You give him a small, grateful smile, the kind that makes his chest feel full. “‘Kay,” you whisper, eyes already drifting shut again.
Chris tucks the blanket a little higher around you, then slides his hand to your back and rubs slow, comforting circles. He watches your breathing settle, watches your body relax into the softness of sleep, and he stays like that until he’s sure you’re drifting off again.
Only then does he press one last kiss to your temple. “Love you so much,” he whispers.
And then, he quietly slips out of the bed to check his other girl.
-
The hallway is quiet when Chris steps out of the bedroom, closing the door with the softest click he can manage. He stretches once, pushes his messy hair to the back, but even the stiffness of sleep can’t dim the warmth settling in his chest.
Then, he pads down the hallway on bare feet, instinctively avoiding the spots on the floor that creak. He reaches the bedroom door at the end of the hallway, already cracked open the way it always is, and gently pushes it wider.
There she is.
Adonia.
Addie.
His little flower bud.
Still bundled under her blanket, curls spread over the pillow like a tiny halo. One fist tucked under her cheek, the other loosely gripping her stuffed bunny. Her chest rises and falls in that soft, steady rhythm that only toddlers have—pure, peaceful, unbothered by anything in the world.
Chris steps inside quietly, heart tightening in that familiar way. She’s so beautiful. His daughter. His little family made real.
He sits on the edge of her tiny bed and leans over to brush a stray curl off her forehead. He’s quietly admiring her as she looks different in some ways, but very familiar in a way.
That’s why they named her Adonia. Because she’s beautiful. Because she carries both of you in her little features so perfectly.
Addie has your eyes—bright, expressive, full of warmth even when she’s half-asleep and cranky. Your smile too, that same heart-melting curve that makes him weak every time he sees it.
But she has his lips—the shape, the pout, the way they curl when she’s about to cry or laugh. And the curls… definitely his. Wild, soft ringlets he could kiss for hours.
She’s the best of both of you. As if the universe took the beautiful parts of you and his and wove them into something even more precious.
Chris still remembers how quickly Addie came into your life after the wedding—barely a year after you said your vows. He remembers holding her for the first time, tiny and new and perfect, and realizing that life didn’t just get better after marriage… it blossomed. She made everything brighter, softer. She made everything more worth waking up for.
He watches her now and feels something in him unclench. When she’s like this—still, peaceful, safe—it makes him feel like he’s actually doing it right. Like he’s keeping her protected, like the world is quiet enough for her to rest without fear.
A small smile tugs at his lips. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her. Her little nose scrunches in her sleep, and he feels his heart melt all over again.
“Daddy loves you so much,” he whispers, even though she can’t hear it.
Chris rises slowly, taking one last look at her sleeping form before slipping out of the room. He leaves the door slightly ajar—just enough for her to feel safe, just enough for him to hear if she needs him. He lets out a quiet breath, the kind that comes from having everything he’s ever wanted under one roof.
Now, he’s ready to start his day.
-
You wake slowly and feel a little reluctant to leave the comfort of the bed Chris guided you back into. It takes a moment for your mind to catch up to your body, but when it does, you realize two things:
One, the spot beside you is empty.
And two, there’s the sweet, delicious smell of pancakes drifting down the hall.
You smile and slip out of bed. You pad your way toward the hallway, still wrapped in lingering sleep. When you reach the bedroom doorway, you pause because the view in front of you steals your breath a little.
Chris stands in the kitchen, back turned to you, cooking breakfast with an ease that comes from years of perfecting his Sunday-morning routine. He’s wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair still messy from sleep, curls falling over his forehead in that way you adore. His shoulders are broad under the thin fabric. His waist trim. His back warm and familiar and somehow still enough to make your heart stutter after all these years.
He lifts a glass to his lips and takes a sip of his green smoothie, the one he insists on drinking every morning because, “Baby, I can’t do coffee, you know that.” You watch his jaw flex gently as he swallows, sunlight catching on his profile.
And you think about how married life hasn’t dulled anything. If anything, it’s made the feelings deeper. More steady and overwhelming in the best way. You’re lucky. So incredibly lucky that he is yours to wake up to, to come home to, to build this life with. You’re so busy admiring him that you don’t realize he’s noticed you until he speaks.
“Well?” he says without looking up, a playful lilt to his voice. “You gonna just stand there staring? Come on—make yourself useful.”
You huff a quiet laugh, pushing off the doorframe, your steps slow and sleepy as you walk toward him. But instead of grabbing something to help, you slide your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades.
“Mmm,” you mumble. “I’m helping.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, the kind that vibrates through his back and into your chest. His free hand finds yours where it rests around him, his thumb stroking slowly over your knuckles.
You stay like that and him flipping pancakes with one hand, you clinging to his back like he’s your personal heater. It’s warm. It’s familiar. It’s perfect.
After a moment, he turns off the stove, sets the spatula down, and gently turns in your arms until he’s facing you. Without hesitation, he tightly wraps you up like he’s gathering you close after weeks instead of hours. His chin rests on your head for a moment before he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your hair.
“Sleep okay?” he murmurs against you.
You hum, a half-asleep, half-content sound. “Mmhmm… warm…”
“Cute,” he whispers, brushing a hand along your spine.
You tilt your head up. Your soft, sleepy eyes meeting his, full of wanting.
Before you even have to say a word, he leans down and kisses you. Slow. Gentle. Sure. The kind of kiss that makes your warm and fuzzy. You melt into it.
This quiet morning routine, the affection, the ease, the warmth—is one of your favorite parts of marriage. A little reminder each day of how deeply you love and cherish each other.
Chris pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, smiling.
“Good morning, love,” he whispers.
You smile as you feel every ounce of tenderness he holds for you, wrapped in just those three words.
“Morning,” you softly mutter back with a smile.
Chris captures your smile with one more kiss, a long, slow, lingering kiss before pulling away. When he finally lifts his mouth from yours, he brushes his thumb along your cheek.
“Go wake Addie,” he murmurs.
You raise an eyebrow playfully. “You wake her. You know she’d prefer that.”
He flashes that dimpled smile you married him for. The one that still melts your entire heart no matter how many years have passed. “I already made breakfast,” he says, teasing. “So it’s your turn.”
You sigh dramatically, tossing your head back as if he’s given you the hardest job in the world. “Fine,” you say with exaggerated defeat.
Before you go, you lean up and steal a quick, sneaky peck from his lips. Chris chuckles, shaking his head as you turn and leave the kitchen.
You head down the hall, pushing Addie’s bedroom door open softly. She’s still curled up in bed, cheeks flushed pink from sleep, curls tangled in every direction. She looks so peaceful that you hesitate. A part of you wants to let her dream a little longer, hold onto this tiny version of her that grows more every day. But she has preschool and Breakfast is waiting, so is Chris.
So you approach slowly. You sit beside her small form and gently brush her curls back from her forehead. Then you rub her back in soft, slow circles, your voice a whisper meant only for her.
“Addie… sweetheart… time to wake up, baby.”
She stirs, tiny fingers twitching against her blanket. Her eyelids flutter once… twice… and then her eyes finally blink open, still dazed and heavy with sleep. When she finds your face hovering above hers, you give her the softest smile.
“Good morning, angel.” You lean in and press a kiss to her warm little temple.
Addie rolls onto her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she needs a full minute to load the world. You keep rubbing her belly gently, fixing her pajama that is wrinkled and rumpled from sleep, knowing she needs time. Her lashes flutter again, and then she slowly turns her head toward you.
Her voice is small, raspy from sleep when she asks, “…Where’s Daddy?”
You almost scoff—almost. Because of course you expected that. Of course she wants her daddy first thing in the morning.
But you just smile. “Daddy’s in the kitchen, baby. He’s making breakfast.”
She nods, rubbing her eyes with her fists, and you help her sit upright. Her little legs dangle over the edge of the bed, feet searching for the floor. The moment they touch down, she pushes herself up and starts walking in wobbly, slow steps that teeter from side to side. You stay close behind, hands ready in case she stumbles.
She’s still half-asleep, curls a messy halo around her head, clutching her stuffed bunny by the arm. “Daddy…” she mumbles as she toddles down the hallway. “Daddy…”
And the moment she enters the kitchen, Chris’s entire face lights up.
He beams, wide and bright, eyes softening at the sight of her. Addie’s arms already stretch toward him even though she’s still a few feet away, desperate to be held.
Chris doesn’t wait. He crosses the kitchen in three quick steps, meets her halfway, and scoops her into his arms. Addie instantly melts against him, burying her face into the crook of his neck like it’s the safest place she knows.
“Good morning, my little flower bud,” he whispers into her hair, rubbing her small back with big, gentle hands. “Did you sleep well? Did you dream about Daddy? Dream about Mommy? Maybe bunnies? Hmm?”
Addie mumbles something incoherent, clinging tighter, and Chris presses a soft kiss to her cheek.
You stand there, watching your husband with your daughter in his arms with morning sunlight wrapping around them like a warm embrace and your chest expands with something deep and full and certain.
This sight. This moment. This quiet love in the kitchen. It convinces you all over again that you married the perfect man. That this life is everything you ever wanted.
And more.
-
Breakfast is peaceful—at least, as peaceful as it can be with a three-year-old.
Chris settles Addie into her booster seat, making sure her curls aren’t caught in the straps, brushing a kiss on the top of her head before placing a plate of small pancakes in front of her. He sits beside her, not eating yet because of course he doesn’t. He’s too focused on her.
You watch them as you sip your drink, elbow propped on the table.
Chris cuts the pancakes even smaller, nudging the plate closer to her. “Small bites, okay? Don’t rush.”
Addie nods earnestly… then immediately shoves one whole pancake into her mouth anyway.
Chris laughs softly. “That’s not a small bite.”
She looks at him with innocent eyes, cheeks full, and he gives up instantly because he always does. He wipes syrup off her chin with a napkin, smiling at her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Which, of course, she is.
Your chest warms watching them together. Seeing Chris dote on Addie like this always hits deeper than you expect, a reminder of how much love sits in the small corners of this house.
Addie is almost done, nibbling on the last piece of pancake when you speak.
“Okay, sweetheart,” you say gently. “Time to get ready for school.”
Addie freezes mid-chew. Then comes… the pout. Not just any pout. Chris’s pout. His lips exactly—soft, full, pushing outward in the most dramatic display of toddler betrayal.
She turns slowly to look at her father, eyes wide and pleading like he might rescue her from this terrible fate.
You have to press your lips together to stop a laugh. Of course. Of course she’d look to him. Of course she thinks he can save her. She really is a daddy’s girl.
And you believe now more than ever what people say—
A father is a daughter’s first love.
Addie mumbles, voice tiny and hopeful, “Daddy get me dressed?”
You look at Chris. Then shrug, not hiding your satisfaction at all. “I mean… she asked for you,” you say lightly, lifting your hands like your fate is out of your control. “Who am I to deny her?”
Chris glares at you playfully, eyes narrowing. “You’re not off the hook. If I’m doing this, you’re doing the dishes.”
You shrug again, even more dramatically this time, letting a teasing smile spread over your face. “I have no problem with that.”
He shakes his head, but his dimples betray him. He stands and holds out his hand to Addie. “Come on, love bud. Let’s go pick out something cute to wear.”
Addie immediately slips her tiny hand into his, sliding off the chair with clumsy toddler determination.
You watch them walk together down the hallway—her wobbly steps beside his steady ones, her small fingers curled trustingly around his. She looks so tiny next to him, and yet so sure, so loved, so safe.
Your heart fills, warm and full, overflowing with quiet gratitude. This is your family and you wouldn’t trade any of it, not even a single second of it, for the world.
-
Chris stands in front of the bedroom mirror, pulling his shirt off the hanger. The crisp white cotton slides over his shoulders, settling perfectly against his back as he rolls it down his arms. Button by button, he closes it while watching his reflection. He smooths it once, then reaches for his slacks, sitting low on his hips the way you like. By the time he loops the belt through, fastening the buckle, he already feels put together.
Work-Chris. Responsible. Structured. A grown man with a family and a mortgage and a daughter who thinks he personally hung the moon.
He lifts the tie from the dresser and loops it around his collar. His fingers work automatically, but he pauses halfway and calls out, “Babe? Can you help me?”
He knows you’ll come. You always come. Despite knowing that Chris is more than capable of putting on a tie by himself.
A moment later, you appear in the doorway like a scene he’s watched a thousand times and still isn’t tired of. You cross the room toward him, hands already reaching for the tie, your fingers brushing his chest as you begin tightening the knot.
He focuses on buttoning his cuffs just so he won’t have to look directly at your face, but he still feels it. The heat, the mischief of that look you give him when you’re about to test his self-control on a weekday morning.
Chris sighs through a laugh and places a hand on your waist. “Stop giving me the eyes,” he warns, voice soft, low, already failing. “I’m gonna be late for work.”
But even as he says it, he pulls you closer, letting his hands rest on each side of your waist.
You finish the knot, smooth the tie down his chest with your palm, then slip your arms around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I only get a little time with you before your other girl steals you away again,” you tease, lips brushing the edge of his jaw.
“I’m your husband,” He reminds you with his dimpled grin. “I’m yours first. Always.”
You give him a pout like you don’t believe him at all… and then your smile turns sly. “Oh, is that so?” you purr into his ear, fingers already hooking the edge of his belt and tugging, undoing the buckle with practiced ease.
Chris closes his eyes for a beat—not in refusal, but because god, he wants. He badly wants it.
“Babe…” he sighs, helpless. “I’m gonna be late.”
You lean up and capture his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, slow yet deep, before murmuring against his mouth, “The economy isn’t going to collapse if you skip work for one day.”
His laugh dissolves into a groan as he kisses you again, harder this time. Your bodies fit together like magnets, your hands tracing his abs through his shirt while his find your hips, your lower back, the familiar shape of you. He lets himself drift just for a moment into that space where it’s only you, only this, only heat and closeness and the life the two of you built.
And then—
“Daddy!”
You scoff instantly. “There. Your side chick is calling.”
Chris breathes a laugh against your cheek. “I’m yours. Always,” he reminds you once more with a quick kiss on your cheek.
“I’ll be right there, sweetheart!” He calls back before you slip behind him to grab his suit jacket from the chair.
You hold it up for him, letting him slide his arms in, smoothing the shoulders and tugging the fabric into place. When you step in front of him to fix his collar and flatten the lapels, he finds you staring up at him—mischief still there, lust still there, but something warmer threaded through it.
Your hands trail slowly over his shoulders, down his arms, and you sigh like you’re confessing a secret. “No wonder Addie is obsessed with her dad.”
He laughs under his breath, cheeks warming, heart swelling. You’re being ridiculous and flirty and impossibly cute and he loves you for all of it.
Before he can say anything, he pulls you in by the hips and gives you a slow, lingering like a promise that there’ll be more of this for the rest of your life.
“Daddy!” Addie calls again, louder this time.
You roll your eyes dramatically. “Go. Your little girlfriend is waiting.”
Chris presses his forehead to yours for a beat, smiling. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the thought runs through him like a quiet current:
I’m the luckiest man alive. I get both of you.
Then he steps away, still smiling, still warm, heading toward the door and toward the little girl who owns the other half of his heart.
-
Before Chris even reaches the front door with Addie’s backpack slung over his shoulder, he steps back into the hallway where you’re waiting. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips—quick enough that Addie, busy putting her shoes on the wrong feet again, doesn’t notice.
You touch the side of his arm gently, giving him that soft, familiar morning smile. “Have a good day at work, love.”
“You too,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw before pulling back.
Then you crouch down in front of Addie, fixing her curls once more and tucking it behind her ears. “Bye, my little sunshine. Have the best day ever, okay? Mommy will pick you up later.”
Addie tips her face up eagerly, giving you a sloppy kiss right on the corner of your mouth—half-miss, half-success. You laugh, brushing your cheek with your thumb, and Addie beams like she did something amazing.
“I’m gonna paint a rainbow today!” she declares proudly.
“I can’t wait to see it,” you say, smoothing your hand over her curls.
Chris watches the two of you with a warm chest and a full heart before he reaches out his hand. “Come on, lovebug. Time to go.”
Addie slips her tiny fingers into his, and Chris guides her toward the car. But before stepping out, he turns around like he always does and gives you one more wave, one last soft look.
You wave back, that domestic tenderness in your eyes, and it tugs a smile from him he doesn’t even try to hide.
He carries Addie to the car, buckles her in, checks the straps once more, then slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
“Daddy,” Addie says immediately, “can we listen to my song?”
Chris laughs quietly. “Of course we can. Which one?”
She hums dramatically, sorting through her imaginary playlist. “Um… the blue one!”
He taps the screen, and the melody fills the car. Addie lights up, kicking her feet rhythmically, singing off-key but passionately. Chris joins in without meaning to, catching her grin through the rearview mirror.
“We sing it at school too,” Addie says between verses. “Miss Hana said we gonna paint today! Big paint! Like—” She stretches her arms wide in her seat. “THIS BIG!”
Chris pretends to be shocked. “No way. That big?”
“Yes way,” she insists, nodding so hard her curls bounce. “I’m gonna use purple and yellow and pink and more purple.”
“That sounds like the perfect rainbow,” he says.
“It’s gonna be soooo pretty. And then I show you and Mommy and then put it on the freeze.”
By freeze, she means the fridge.
It takes him a second, then he smiles. “Of course. Right in the middle.”
The drive is short, but it’s his favorite part of the morning—her soft singing, her sleepy eyes, the sunlight catching the top of her head. Just the two of them in their own tiny world.
When they pull into the preschool lot, Addie’s excitement softens. She looks out the window, then up at him. “Daddy? You come inside?”
“Of course,” he says.
He parks, unbuckles her, and lifts her into his arms. She tucks her face into his neck for a moment—shy, just for this beat. He rubs her back reassuringly.
Inside the classroom, Miss Hana greets her warmly.
“Good morning, Addie!”
Addie steps closer to Chris’s leg for a second before peeking up at him. He crouches to her height, presses a kiss to her forehead. “Have the best time painting, okay? Make a big rainbow for Mommy and Daddy.”
“Okay.” She throws her arms around him. “Love you, Daddy.”
He hugs her just as tightly. “Love you more.”
She toddles toward the art corner, bunny dangling from one hand, curls bouncing. Just before she joins the other kids, she turns for one last look and waves her tiny hand. He waves back, heart full.
As he walks out of the building and toward his car, he’s already can’t wait to come home to his girls tonight.
-
The house feels strangely quiet after the front door closes, in a way that only parents understand, the kind that carries both peace and a hint of loneliness.
You slip into the kitchen with your notepad, pen tucked behind your ear as you start listing this week’s groceries. Milk, eggs, fruit, Chris’s green smoothie powder, chicken thighs…
You walk around the kitchen, opening cabinets, checking the pantry, making sure you’re not forgetting anything. The fridge hums softly as you pull it open to check the produce drawer. A few apples left. Half a bag of spinach. No more yogurt. Add that to the list.
When you shut the fridge door, your hand drops from the handle slowly because the photos stuck there are impossible to ignore. They’re like little pockets of time frozen in place.
Your eyes land first on the one you always stop at of Chris holding newborn Addie on his bare chest, her tiny body no bigger than his forearm, her hand curled around absolutely nothing but air. His head is tilted down, hair falling into his eyes, expression so full of awe it almost hurts to look at. You remember that day so clearly. How scared he was to hold her. How gentle he became the second she touched him.
Next is the photo from her first birthday—three of you squeezed together, Addie clutching her smash cake with frosting all over her face, Chris smiling his impossible dimple smile, your cheeks pressed together. The joy in that picture lives in the corners of the frame like sunlight that never fades.
Your fingers drift to the beach photo. Little Addie standing ankle-deep in the surf, face scrunched in panic as a tiny wave brushed her toes. Chris was mid-laugh, holding her hands while she looked betrayed by the ocean. You can almost hear her wobbly little, “Daddyyyyyy,” echoing in your mind.
And finally, Halloween.
You dressed as Rapunzel, blonde wig trailing down your back, fake flowers pinned along the braid. Addie, dressed as Pascal the chameleon, perched on your shoulder—well, she was supposed to perch, but the picture caught her tugging your wig with both hands, nose scrunched in concentration. You remember Chris wheezing from laughter behind the camera. A soft, delighted sigh slips from your lips before you even notice it.
These pictures… this life… this home…
The grocery list sits forgotten on the counter. Because right now, all you can feel is the warm, overwhelming truth rising in your chest:
You love your little family so much. More than you ever thought possible. More than you could ever put into words.
And standing there in the quiet morning light, surrounded by the echoes of every memory that brought you here, you realize you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
-
The preschool doors open and the kids trickle out, tiny backpacks bouncing against tiny legs. You spot Addie immediately with paint smudged on her cheek, curls wild, her bunny tucked under her arm like always.
The second her eyes land on you, she lights up. “MOMMY!”
She barrels toward you in those uneven, excited steps, and you catch her, lifting her easily into your arms. She wraps her arms around your neck and nuzzles into you, still smelling faintly of snacks and finger paint.
“Hi, baby,” you murmur, kissing her temple. “Did you have fun today?”
Addie pulls back, grinning wide. “YES!”
On the way to the car, she keeps talking—breathless, animated, the way only a three-year-old can. The moment you buckle her in and close the door, she’s already launching into a story before you even sit in the driver’s seat.
“Mommy, today I sat next to Aster.”
Your eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Aster?”
“Mm-hmm!” She wiggles happily in her seat. “He’s my friend. He has a Dino lunchbox. I like him.”
You smile to yourself as you start driving. “Oh? You like him?”
“Yes,” she says confidently, kicking her feet. “I wanna sit with him every day.” Then she adds, dramatically: “ALL day long.”
Your heart squeezes so tightly it almost hurts because she’s so sweet, so open, so earnest. The kind of openness you hope the world never takes from her.
“That’s very cute,” you say, glancing at her through the mirror. “Does Aster like you too?”
She nods so hard her curls bounce. “He said I draw the best rainbow. And—and I wanna marry him.”
You almost laugh, but it bursts out mostly as a soft, overwhelmed breath. “Marry him, huh?”
“Yes.” She nods again as if this is a legally binding decision. “We’re gonna get married and eat chicken noodles every day.”
Your heart turns to warm mush. “Well… you have to ask Daddy first before marrying Aster,” you tease.
Addie gasps and immediately bursts into giggles, covering her mouth with her tiny hands. “Moooommy!” she squeals. “Don’t tell Daddy!”
“I won’t,” you promise, biting back a laugh.
You glance to the back and lower your voice as you add, “It’ll be our little secret.”
She shushes you dramatically, pressing her finger to her lips. “Shhhh, Mommy. Daddy will be SO sad.”
You can’t help but laugh and she laughs because you’re laughing. Her adorable giggles fill the car until the whole space feels lighter, brighter, warmer. As she settles down, humming softly to herself and clutching her bunny, you glance at her again in the mirror.
So small. So earnest. So full of love already. And your heart feels full to the brim.
-
You’re stacking cans into the pantry when you hear the soft slap-slap-slap of small feet padding into the kitchen.
“Mommy,” Addie says, clutching the hem of her little shirt, “can I help cook dinner? I’m a big girl now.”
You smile, shutting the pantry door with your hip. “I know you are, honey. Mommy just… don’t know what to cook yet.”
She gasps like this is a crisis. You pretend to gasp with her. Then you lower your voice, conspiratorial. “What if we call Daddy and ask him?”
Her whole face lights up—eyes, cheeks, everything. “YES. I miss Daddy.” She runs over and grabs your hand to tug you toward the counter where your phone is.
You pull her close to your side and hit the video call button even though you know he’s probably still in the middle of work. The call rings twice and then Chris’s face fills the screen with the faint hum of the office behind him. The second he sees you both, the tiredness melts off him like it was never there.
“There’s my girls,” he says, voice warm and uneven in that way it gets when he’s smiling too hard. “What’s going on?”
“We don’t know what to eat for dinner,” Addie announces immediately, leaning practically nose-first into the camera. “Mommy said we can ask you.”
Chris softens even more. “Oh yeah? What does Addie want?”
She starts listing every food she’s ever loved. “Chicken nuggets. Chicken noodles. Fried chicken. Um… pizza? And… and… ice cream!”
You snort into your hand.
“That’s a lot of chicken, baby. But how about …” He pauses as if the decision is deeply important. “Curry?”
Addie blinks. Then nods, very seriously. “I like curry too. I can cook it for you, Daddy.”
“Oh?” Chris leans closer to the camera, eyebrows lifted. “You’re gonna cook dinner for Daddy?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “But Mommy does the knife because knives are danger.” She pats your arm. “But I can stir.”
You brush her hair back from her forehead, trying not to laugh. “She’s very confident.”
“Good,” Chris says, absolutely enamored. “Daddy can’t wait to come home to Addie’s curry. I’m already excited.”
Before you can say anything else, Addie starts blowing rapid-fire flying kisses at the screen rather aggressively.
Chris actually wheezes. “Oh—okay—Daddy’s catching them—ow—okay, that one was strong—”
You’re laughing now, and Addie is thrilled with herself.
Finally, you tell Chris, “We’ll let you get back to work, Daddy.”
“Yeah,” he sighs softly, “but that helped a lot. I love you both.”
“We love you,” you say.
“LOVE YOU,” Addie screams into the phone.
“Come home safely,” you mutter at Chris.
“Come home safely, Daddy,” Addie echoes while waving her little hand.
“Bye, bye,” Chris says while waving at you and Addie through the screen before ending the call.
You put your phone away and look down at your daughter. “Well, chef. Ready to cook dinner?”
She nods so hard her pigtails bounce. “YES.”
Addie drags the little step stool across the kitchen floor with the determination of someone twice her size, the wooden legs scraping lightly until she plants it beside the counter with a triumphant hmph.
“I’m ready,” she declares.
You tie her tiny apron with her favorite cartoon animals on it and she lifts her chin proudly while you knot it. Then you tie your own right beside her.
“Okay, chef,” you say. “What’s first?”
She taps her chin dramatically, thinking hard. “We wash the veggies.”
“That’s right.” You fix the hair caught on the strap of her apron. “Because clean food is…”
“…happy food,” Addie eloquently answers.
“Good girl!” You smile with pride knowing that she remembers what you taught her.
You help her carry the carrots and potatoes to the sink. She rolls up her sleeves and scrubs them with far too much enthusiasm, sending little splashes of water up your arm.
“Addie,” you laugh, stepping back, “are we washing the potatoes or giving them swimming lessons?”
“They like swimming,” she insists. “They’re having fun, Mommy.”
You shake your head, smiling as you reach for a towel to dry the overly-happy potatoes.
While you chop the vegetables, Addie watches very intently as if she’s watching a magic show.
“Mommy is very good at cutting,” she honestly says with awe in her eyes.
“Thank you so much, Addie,” you say with a smile.
“Daddy can’t cut like this. Daddy cuts… weird.” She wiggles her fingers to demonstrate.
You try not to laugh so hard you mess up your chopping. “We’ll keep that between us.”
When the pot warms on the stove, she climbs onto the stool again, wooden spoon in hand like a wand.
“Be careful,” you warn. “The pot is hot.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
You add the vegetables and she stirs, both hands on the spoon, whole body working with each circle. Her lower lip jutting out as concentration wrinkling her forehead.
“You’re doing great, Addie, ” you tell her.
She beams. “Daddy will be so proud.”
“He already is,” you say with a gentle pat on her head.
As the curry block melts into the broth, the kitchen fills with that warm, comforting smell. Addie sighs happily and leans in a little too close to the pot, trying to catch a whiff of the curry. “Smells so good, Mommy,” she says softly.
You keep her steady by placing a hand on the small of her back. “Because you’re doing such a good job at it, lovely.”
You both lean over the pot, watching the steam rise. Addie gently bumps her head against your shoulder and whispers, “Daddy’s gonna love it so much.”
You kiss the top of her head. “He’s gonna love it because wemade it together.”
Addie glows and resumes stirring with renewed passion, humming her little song again as the evening light pours into the kitchen, warm and golden, wrapping the two of you in the softest, sweetest kind of quiet family love.
-
The table is almost done, just need to put the cutlery in place when the familiar rumble of Chris’s car curls through the quiet evening like a warm drumroll.
Addie’s head whips in the direction of the door and then her whole body lights up. “Daddy!” she squeaks.
Before you can say a word, she’s already sprinting, socks skidding on the hallway floor, her little ponytail bouncing behind her like a tiny exclamation mark. You watch her go, heart swelling in that too-big, too-full way only she can summon.
She plants herself right in front of the door, bouncing on her toes. One hand clamps dramatically over her mouth, her version of self-control. The other curls into a tiny fist at her chest, vibrating with excitement.
You lean against the doorway, smiling at the scene you’ve already watched a hundred times but never get tired of.
The lock clicks. The doorknob turns. The door inches open. Addie’s whole body trembles. When Chris steps inside, she explodes. “DADDY!!”
Chris flinches exaggeratedly like she’s startled the soul out of him. “Whoa! You surprised Daddy!”
Addie giggles, delighted with herself. “Welcome home, Daddy!”
He bends, presses a tender kiss to the top of her head, then toes off his shoes while she clings to his pant leg like a very affectionate koala. Once the shoes are off, he scoops her up with a warm grunt, settling her on his hip like she belongs there.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, brushing her cheek with his nose.
She beams and hugs him tight.
He turns then, carrying all that warmth straight toward you. The moment he reaches you, he leans in for a soft, quick kiss on your lips, familiar and grounding all at once.
“Hi,” he says quietly, smile touching the corners of his eyes.
You feel your own smile unfurl. “Welcome home.”
The words slip out sweeter than you intend, threaded with relief and affection and that little spark of I’m so glad you’re here. And as he steps closer, Addie nestled against his shoulder, the scent of the curry drifting from the kitchen, you feel that gentle, everyday happiness settle into your chest.
He’s home.
Your little family is together again.
-
Chris settles into his chair with a low, content sigh, the kind that only comes after stepping back into the hum of his own home. Addie is already swinging her legs under the table, humming a tune with curry-smudged enthusiasm. You sit beside him, brushing your shoulder lightly against his, that small point of contact grounding him in a way the rest of the world never does.
Dinner spirals into the usual soft chaos. Addie babbles between spoonfuls, you tease him gently about the way he nearly burned his tongue, he sneaks glances at you the way he always does. Domestic serenity loops around him like warm steam from the curry.
When the lull hits, he turns to the smallest member of the trio. “So, Addie,” he says, scooping another bite. “How was school today, sweetface?”
Addie lights up, chest puffing with importance. “Daddy, we painted! I made a flower and Miss Hana said it’s beautiful!”
Chris nods, taking your hand and holds it in him on the table. “I’m sure Miss Hana is right.”
“Aster also said it’s beautiful,” Addie continues, waving her spoon dangerously, “And then he drew a dinosaur for me!”
Your soft giggle bursts out immediately beside him, and Chris freezes mid-chew.
Aster?
He turns to you sharply but you just widen your eyes like you’re innocent, but the grin tugging at your lips gives you away.
Chris shifts his gaze back to Addie, slipping into fatherly interrogation mode like flipping a switch. “And who is Aster?”
Addie, unbothered and glowing, shrugs. “Aster is my friend. He’s good at drawing dinosaurs. I like him. I wanna play with him all day!”
Your laugh escapes you and you quickly deflect by wiping your mouth with a napkin.
He clears his throat, straightens, narrows his eyes. “You can’t play with him all day.”
Addie blinks. “Why, Daddy?”
“Because,” he says, pointing a dramatic finger at his chest, “your daddy is supposed to be your number one partner for drawing. And coloring. And everything forever.”
Addie pauses, processing this Very Serious Information, then says with absolute innocence, “But Daddy… I can play with Aster at school.”
Chris inhales like she has stabbed him with a crayon.
You lose it beside him, covering your mouth to keep your laughter contained, but it breaks through anyway. Addie starts laughing because you’re laughing, her little shoulders shaking.
Chris puts on his sternest face. “That’s it,” he declares. “No more school for you, young lady. You stay home now. Forever. You can leave the house again when you’re eighteen.”
Addie giggles so hard she almost drops her spoon.
You lean your head toward his shoulder with a warm, delighted grin. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m being serious,” he insists, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “Dead serious.”
Addie laughs even harder, her cheeks pink and shining. Chris finally cracks, the authoritative dad act melting away into a laugh that rumbles up from somewhere he only ever uses at home, with you two. His girls.
The sound fills the kitchen, cozy and warm. And Chris feels it again, that quiet truth that never leaves him: there’s no place he’d rather be.
-
Chris sprawls on the carpet like he’s made of soft clay, letting himself be molded into whatever role Addie assigns him tonight. In her newest scenario, he is apparently a Very Hungry Giant, and she is the chef of an elite five-star restaurant made entirely of plastic utensils. Her tiny hands scoop invisible stew into a tiny pink bowl, and she toddles over with all the seriousness of a surgeon.
“Daddy, eat,” she commands, shoving the air toward his mouth.
Chris opens wide. “Nom, nom, nom, nom… Delicious.”
She beams, already racing back to her kitchen station to cook the next course. He can’t help the quiet bloom of pride in his chest. Hours away from her always leave a little ache, playing like this smooths it over. Better than any salary raise or office compliment. This is where he gets patched back together.
After a while, she drifts to another toy, her attention fluttering to glittery blocks. Chris takes that moment to sink onto the sofa like a man rediscovering gravity. His joints sigh.
He doesn’t have long to savor the peace, because he hears your footsteps. You ease down beside him with a slow exhale that tells him everything he needs to know about your day.
Without thinking, he reaches for you, looping an arm behind your waist and tugging you gently until your side melts into his. You fit there like you’ve lived in his ribs for years.
“You’re tired,” he murmurs.
“A bit.”
“You never let me help,” he says, soft but playfully scolding.
You smile. “You helped plenty.”
He nudges your temple with his nose, unconvinced, and then he just… sinks into you. His face nestles into the curve of your neck, his lips brush there in small, wandering kisses. The kind that don’t demand anything. The kind that simply tells that he missed you.
Your giggle hums through him and that only encourages him. He trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, then your cheek, savoring every little sound your body gives him. When he finally pulls back an inch, you look slightly dazed, slightly amused. He cups your face, thumb grazing the softness of your bottom lip.
You hold his gaze in the same warmth like you always do. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
His voice drops into a low wonder. “How are you getting more beautiful every day?”
You scoff, flustered, which only makes him smile deeper. He leans in, kissing you slow and intimate, something lit from within. When he pulls back just an inch, he murmurs against your lips, “How is that fair, mmh?”
Your breath fans his mouth. You’re smiling. He steals that smile in another kiss, deeper this time, his fingers threading into your hair as if he could draw you closer still.
Which is exactly when a small body wedges itself between your chests with the force of a determined squirrel. “Daddy!” Addie scolds, puffing her cheeks. “Daddy is my best friend, not Mommy!”
You laugh behind her tiny back, already retreating. Also because you’re used to this.
Chris tries to keep a straight face and fails immediately. “Mommy needs cuddles. She’s tired.”
“No!” she huffs, wrapping her arms around his neck in a possessive tangle. “Daddy mine!”
Chris bites back a laugh, widening his eyes as if shocked. “Mine? But Mommy is my wife, so I’m hers first.”
Addie reels back with betrayal blazing in her little eyes. “Daddy mine!”
You’re already shaking with silent laughter but Chris can’t resist pushing it one notch further. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you in tight again, so now he’s holding both of you at once, his favorite tug-of-war.
That’s the final straw as Addie’s face scrunches, her mouth wobbles, and then she bursts into dramatic, heart-splitting tears.
You lose it. Your laughter spills out, warm and helpless, as you gather her into your arms. “Oh, Addie baby,” you soothe through your smile, rubbing her back. “You silly girl.”
Chris holds her too, kissing her temple as she sobs into his shoulder. He murmurs between soft pats, “Daddy’s always yours. Always. But Daddy loves Mommy too. I love both my girls so much. There’s room for everybody.”
Addie hiccups, sniffling, her little hands clutching both of you. You fold your arms around them both, tilting your forehead against Chris’s.
Warmth pools around the three of you like a soft quilt: tangled limbs, shared breath, shared warmth. His family, all in one embrace.
-
Chris settles onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping softly under his weight. Addie is already tucked beneath her pastel blanket, only her curls and the round tip of her nose poking out, blinking up at him like a sleepy little owl. Her stuffed bunny rests on her chest, its whiskers flattened from love.
Chris gently lifts it aside so he can open tonight’s story book. “Ready for your story, my little lovebug?”
She nods, her thumb inching toward her mouth before she remembers he asked her to try not to suck it at bedtime. She hesitates. Then tucks her hand under her cheek instead.
He pretends not to see the struggle so she can feel proud and begins to read. His voice softens without him trying, slipping into that warm register he didn’t know he had until she was born. The kind made for stories about magical forests and animals who
As he reads, his hand drifts into her curls. They’re springy and wild, the same way his were as a kid, but soft like yours. He brushes a few strands away from her forehead, fingertips moving in slow, gentle motions designed to ease the last bits of the day out of her tiny bones.
Her breathing starts to change. Slower. Heavier. The kind that tells him she’s drifting.
He keeps going anyway, voice a low, steady river sliding over the words.
Addie’s eyes flutter. Open. Close. Open again with an effort that makes his heart twist. She wants to stay awake to hear him. She always does.
He leans closer, brushing her hairline with his thumb. “Daddy’s right here,” he whispers, barely more than breath.
Her lids fall one final time and this time, they stay. Her lips part in a soft pout she definitely inherited from him. Her bunny slips from her hand, so he places it gently under her arm.
He finishes the last line of the story in a hush, more for himself than her. Then he closes the book with careful, reverent hands and settles it on the nightstand.
For a moment, he just watches her. The tiny rise and fall of her chest. The way her arm curls protectively around her bunny. The innocence, the peace. The trust.
He leans down and presses a quiet kiss to her temple, lingering there until he feels his own breath steady. “Daddy loves you so much,” he murmurs.
He slips off the bed like a shadow, easing toward the door. He leaves it slightly ajar, the way she likes, letting a sliver of hallway light follow him out. He looks at his daughter once more and lowly murmurs, “Goodnight.”
And when he steps into the hallway, closing the bedtime world behind him, he exhales. Not tired, but full, filled to the brim with love so gentle it almost aches.
-
You’re halfway through patting moisturizer into your cheeks when you hear his footsteps. There’s a familiar cadence to them, a soft eagerness threaded through each step, and you don’t even need to look up before Chris slips into the bathroom.
His arms wrap around your waist immediately, pulling you into the solid shape of his body. Your back fits against him like you were carved with the same blueprint. His chin nudges your shoulder, and then his lips follow, brushing your skin with feather-kisses that rise in little sparks.
You giggle, your hands still working through your skincare. “The first lady is sleeping and now, you’re going to your mistress, mmh?”
He breathes a laugh against your neck and you catch his eyes in the mirror. They’re warm brown, soft around the edges, the kind of gaze reserved only for you. You reach for your lip balm, dabbing it on, and he lifts his head just a little as if he wants to watch every movement you make. He’s feeling the silky fabric of your camisole between his fingers when he notices something.
“Did you wear this set when you were pregnant?” he asks, voice low and casual but with that unmistakable undercurrent.
“Yeah,” you reply simply.
The smirk crawls onto his lips before he even tries to hide it. He presses another kiss to your neck, slower this time. “I thought so.”
He leans in until his mouth hovers at your ear, his breath warm. “You know I think you were the sexiest when you were pregnant.”
You scoff, reaching for your brush. “Of course you do.”
Chris gathers your hair in one hand to help you brush it, the other hand slipping under your camisole with such casual familiarity it sends a buzzing warmth down your spine. His palms rest on your stomach, thumbs tracing delicate shapes against your skin.
“I liked seeing you with the baby bump,” he murmurs. “Loved it, actually.”
Then his hands glide upward, cupping your breasts through the fabric. “And these were… unbelievable.”
Your laugh breaks through before you can stop it. “We both know what you really liked was the baby-making part.”
He doesn’t even pretend otherwise. “Obviously.”
You turn in his arms, looping your hands around his shoulders. His hands settle naturally on your hips, warm and reassuring.
“I don’t think I’m ready for it,” you say softly.
He nods without hesitation, fully understanding. “Okay.”
But then that glint slips into his eyes again, sly and teasing. “Not ready to get pregnant again… or not ready to share me?”
You narrow your eyes at him and gently push him away. “This is the end of the discussion.”
He tries to bite back another smirk, fails spectacularly.
You poke his chest lightly. “Living room. Now. You promised we’d watch that movie tonight.”
He leans in, kisses you once and when he pulls away, he can’t help but tease you again. “It’s the latter, right?”
You playfully pinch at his waist and glare. “Christopher!” you scold.
“Ouch!” He yelps rather dramatically and then bursts into laughter. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”
His hand trails along your waist as he steps away, and you catch the reflection of his smile in the mirror before he leaves the room.
-
Your body sinks into the warm cradle of the cushions, Chris’s arm draped over you like he’s trying to stake an adorable territorial claim. The glow of the TV flickers across both of your faces as the movie begins threading itself along… though you already know Chris is only half watching. His real show sits right beside him. His thumb strokes your upper arm in lazy arcs, the rhythm hypnotic.
A few minutes in, he exhales, a thoughtful huff against your hair.
“I’m just saying… it is the right time,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing. “Addie’s old enough for a sibling. They’d have the perfect age gap. She’d have someone to play with. Someone to—”
You flick your gaze to him, unimpressed. “Focus on the movie.”
He grins but obediently turns his eyes toward the screen, though you can practically hear the gears in his head plotting. For a moment, you think he’s actually going to behave. For a moment.
Then his hand drifts under the blanket. His palm settles over your belly. Fingers tiptoe to the waistband of your shorts, nudging the elastic like it’s the doorway to some forbidden temple.
You swallow a laugh, shifting slightly, but he follows your movement with precision worthy of a veteran strategist. “Christopher…” you warn.
“Hm?” Innocence. Absolute faux innocence.
He turns your face toward him, tilting your chin lightly. His mouth finds yours, slow and then coaxing, teasing. His hand roams over your waist, hip, up your ribs, down your thigh in a wandering pilgrimage.
You pull away with a sigh, breath shaky, eyes narrowed because you know exactly what this man is up to. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” he asks, eyes wide with fake purity that lasts maybe half a heartbeat before he steals another kiss, deeper this time, fingers tightening on your waist.
That’s it.
You straighten, reach for the remote, and shut the TV off with a decisive click. The room folds into quiet.
Chris watches you, pupils blown wide, hope shimmering on his face like he’s trying not to smile too hard.
You set the remote down, look him dead in the eye, and declare, “Yeah, okay. Let’s make babies tonight.”
His grin unfurls, slow and victorious, like he just unlocked the final chest in some mythical treasure room. He slides closer, voice a low purr against your lips. “Knew you’d come around.”
And then he kisses you with the kind of promise that could light the whole house.
-
The house has gone fully quiet now that the movie is off and the door is closed, you’re both in the safety of the shared bedroom now. You settle on his lap, your back resting against his chest with your legs pulled high and open. You glance down, catching the way his cock is snug inside you — a sight that both arouses you and sends a shiver down your spine.
Chris holds you as if you’re something he’s waited all day to unwrap, his breath warm against the curve of your neck. His arms circle you in a way that feels almost ceremonial, as if he’s marking a moment he doesn’t intend to forget. Your hips shift, just a little, just enough to feel that slow, deep press of his length, and all the air leaves your lungs in a shaky sound. It’s not loud, but breath and almost desperate. It’s the kind of sound he lives for.
His hand trails down south, fingers exploring with lazy confidence, touching you right on your bundle of nerves in a way that has your breath catching again. He’s patient, maddeningly so, as if he wants to memorize every small reaction you give him. Every hitch of your breath. Every subtle tremble.
“Chris…” You breathlessly whisper his name.
He responds with a soft laugh against your shoulder, the kind that curls warm in your stomach. His lips find your skin, leaving slow, practiced kisses along the line of your neck. Each one coaxes another sound from you, each one loosens you a little more in his hold.
Your fingers dig into his forearms. Your head tips back against him. You’re not sure when the pleasure started to cloud your thoughts, when the ache stopped and turned into something sweet and overwhelming, but Chris feels every shift in you. He always does.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, voice sinking into you like warm honey. His other hand comes up, holding your waist, guiding you, steadying you. “Just let it happen.”
You let your body answer his. You let the rhythm build, slow and deep, enjoying the way his fingers circling on your clit. Soon, you find yourself rocking into both his hand and his cock until your breath turns into soft, broken sounds he swallows with kisses to your jaw.
You’re trembling now, not from pain, but from the way he’s coaxing you toward that familiar edge with steady, knowing hands.
Chris feels the moment your body yields, the way your breath stutters and your walls tighten around him. His lips brush your temple, his voice low and full of affection as he whispers, “There you go… that’s it, baby”
You unravel against him, sinking into his chest as if your bones have melted. He holds you through every wave of it, his arms strong and steady, his touch gentle now that he’s guided you exactly where he wanted you.
“Such a good girl… coming for me like that,” he murmurs with a haste kiss on your parted mouth.
The world softens. The room blurs. All you can feel is the solid of his body against you, the heartbeat against your back, the way he holds you like you’re his entire gravity.
And Chris looks at you like this is the closest thing to paradise he’s ever touched.
-
The air between you feels charged enough to spark, and Chris moves slowly yet with certainty, guiding you forward until the mattress receives you. You’re lying on your stomach, head melting into the plush of the pillow.
He settles behind you, close enough that his breath grazes the back of your shoulder. His hands bracket your hips first, gliding up along your waist like he’s exploring his favorite place. There’s no rush in him. Just intent. The kind that wraps itself around your spine and tightens everything inside you.
His fingers trail along your side, lingering, appreciating, claiming. His body presses lightly to yours, just enough contact to make your breath hitch, to remind you that he’s right there, holding himself back on purpose. You can feel his desire without him giving you everything — just the weight of him, the warmth, the promise.
You shift, lifting yourself until you’re on all fours, needy without meaning to, and he catches the movement with a knowing sound, low in his throat. His hand curves over your hip, guiding, controlling, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
Then he leans in, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder, fingers slipping between your slick folds.
“Already desperate for me?”
You try to answer, but the words tangle in your breath, and the tiny laugh that escapes him tells you he loves that. His other hand slides into your hair, gathering a gentle but possessive hold, the kind that makes a breath caught in your throat.
He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, humming as his fingers are now circling on your pulsating clit. “You’re dripping all over my hand, baby,” he whispers to your ear.
You still can’t respond with the way he has you wrapped, claiming and possessively. You grip the sheets as he dips his fingers into your wetness just to feel your tightness wrapped around them.
He pulls away slightly to palm your sex with his hand, fingertips lightly grazing your clit with intention. “I don’t think you’re ready for me,” he teases, a grin plastered to his face.
You drop your head to the side but that only allows Chris to place ferocious kisses on your exposed neck. His teeth nipping lightly at the skin, sharp and hot.
“Chris, please…” you whine as your grip at the sheets tighter, desperate.
He lets out a breathless chuckle. “You’re so cute when you beg, baby,” he mutters, breathe hot against your ear before he bites at it.
“Please…” you plead once more just to please him.
That does it as Chris finally moves, a slow, steady push of his body aligned with yours, letting you feel his hard length brushes over your sex — the full intention of him without crossing that last line.
Hid hand moves from between your legs to stroke his swollen member, using the tip to tease around your entrance, smearing your essence all over. When he pushes inside, he pushes just barely an inch, not enough to satisfy you. Yet the tension winds hotter, tighter, you exhale a shaky breath.
“This much is enough for you,” he mutters with a hot kiss pressed to your shoulder.
You whine before you can stop yourself, the sound raw with frustrated need.
Chris smiles against your shoulder, a warm curve of lips that feels far too triumphant. “Want more?”
You eagerly nod. “Yes.”
Chris rubs his plush lips across your shoulder blade and asks again, “You think you can handle it?”
You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes and daringly stare into them. “You know I can take you well,” your voice dripping in audacity and heat.
That seems to amuse him as a grin bloom on his face, dimples sunken deep into his cheeks. He's never been able to deny you anything, but this is just too fun. He presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear, nipping gently before purring, “Look who’s being all needy for me now.”
Without warning, he pushes the remaining length into you in one rough thrust until he’s fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls. His self-control has been wearing thin, but he can't deny how good it feels to give into it.
Your eyes widen at the sudden sensation, a gasp falling from your lips with a heady mix of surprise and pleasure. Your fingers clutch the sheets, your pulse stumbling, your body alive with every inch of him inside you.
He keeps you close to him, breathless and aching, the world narrowing to the heat of his hands and the quiet authority in his voice.
“Oh, yeah,” he sighs as his hands gripping at your hips, keeping you where he wants you. “You can handle it.”
For a moment, Chris holds you like that — wanting, waiting — and lets the anticipation devour both of you.
-
For a moment, Chris stays still to let the tension coil tighter inside you. When he draws back, it isn’t to abandon you but to shift, to guide you with a quiet certainty that makes your whole body follow his hands without thought.
Through the reflection in the vanity mirror, he watches your face intently as he starts moving in slow, deep thrusts that drag every inch of pleasure out of you before gradually turning desperate, his control slipping.
"That’s it," he rasps, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him with bruising force. "Take it—take all of me."
His voice is wrecked, the teasing edge gone, replaced by pure hunger. He leans down, biting at your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. "God—You always feel so fucking good."
Your fingers curl into the sheets. Your breath stutters. In each passing second, you can’t contain your moans anymore but let them spill free from your parted mouth that eventually turns into a cry of both pain and pleasure.
He leans down to sweetly mutters into your ear. “You sound perfect, like always, baby.”
And just when you’re melting into the moment, he slows and pulls out, making you whimper from the sudden emptiness.
Then, he gently grabs your waist, maneuvering you like you were merely a ragdoll for him to play with. He’s making you lay onto your side with a steadiness that feels protective and hungry all at once.
He kneels on the bed and lifts your leg with one hand, guiding you until you’re open to him, your bodies around curved each other in a way that makes you feel both cherished and claimed. You can feel him slowly easing into you once more, the length of his cock fits, full and snug, you believe you have taken his shape. The way he starts moving sending jolts of pleasure through you and that familiar feeling begins to build once more.
The first movements are deliberate, controlled, meant to drag every ounce of pleasure through you in long, spiraling waves. His hand holds your leg up just enough to deepen everything, and the angle sends heat shimmering up your spine. You can’t contain the sounds that slip out of you.
“Mmm...” The noise escapes your lips unbidden.
Chris lets out a low, possessive growl in response, taking in the reaction. “Like that, baby?”
His pace grows more intentional, more intimate, until you’re shaking with how close you are, how intensely he has you drawn tight under him, how loudly you’re moaning, calling his name in desperation.
And just when your breath breaks and your body clenches in anticipation… he slows. Then stops.
Your whole body trembles with the denied release, your gasp half-plea, half-frustration. Chris bends down to press a kiss on your shoulder, a soothing contrast to the torment he’s giving you. “Not yet,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire and control. “I want you to come apart exactly the way I want.”
His hand strokes your thigh, calming and possessive, keeping you suspended in that exquisite, trembling edge where he seems determined to hold you until you’re completely undone for him.
This time, he shifts along with you as he makes you lay on your back, your head hitting the pillow just right. You look at him with your heavy-lidded eyes, breathless and dazed. You tangle a hand in his curls and look him in the eyes as you mutter, “You’re enjoying it too much.”
Chris grins, his gaze dark and filled with satisfaction, his hand grasping your chin to make you look at him. He's enjoying this probably a bit too much, but he can't help it, he loves having this power over you. And you look so perfect beneath him, so beautiful and needy, his.
He leans down until his face is just inches from yours, his breath hot on your skin. “You know what else I enjoy?”
He pauses, his thumb gently stroking your lip, waiting for you to ask.
You drop your hand to the nape of his neck, playing with the tendrils of hair there. “What?”
He smirks, moving his hand from your chin to trail down your body, fingertips tracing lightly over your collarbone to your chest, continuing down your stomach until it rests just below your navel.
“The look on your face when I bring you to the edge. That look of pure, beautiful desperation that makes me want to give you everything, yet at the same time makes me want to hold you like this a little while longer.”
He leans down and places a kiss just above your hip, not stopping until he gets to where he wants.
Your eyes flutter shut as you feel the warmth of his breath against your wet cunt, the anticipation almost too much. He looks up at you, eyes dark, lips curving into a smirk before he leans forward, his tongue slipping out to taste you, licking you like he’s enjoying ice cream on a hot summer day.
“Chris, baby…” you sigh as you slumped on the pillow, helpless.
You feel the vibration of his hum as he murmurs against you, enjoying every moment of his ministrations. His hands find your thighs, spreading them just a bit wider, his touch soft and gentle yet possessive and demanding.
“Shhh, love. Let me take care of you,” he purrs, his voice sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”
Overwhelmed, you close your eyes but it’s only heightening the other senses. You feel his slick tongue tracing circles on your clit, his fingers curling inside you, the obscene noises of his wet mouth meeting your drenched sex. It’s all feels too much.
When you open your eyes, you find him looking up at you, making eye contact, watching your every reaction, every sound you make. He's completely focused on you, on bringing you pleasure, on making you feel good. And oh, he loves every second of it.
Chris pulls back just as your breathing hitches, your thighs trembling, fingers clawing at the sheets, but he stops, leaving you hovering on the edge.
He smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze locked onto yours. “Not yet, baby,” he purrs, voice rough with desire. “Want to feel you come around me.”
His fingers replace his tongue, teasing slow circles—just enough to keep you right there, but not enough to let you fall. He lifts himself up just enough to hover above you, allowing your hand to reach his face, cupping his jaw.
“You’re really planning to wear me out, huh?” you ask with a tired yet smug smile.
Chris gives a lazy, cocky smile at your question. Of course that's his plan; he knows you're already exhausted, but he can't get enough of you.
“The one and only plan,” he says, fingers still slowly moving in torturous circles. “I'm going to wear you out—make you a whimpering, trembling mess before I let you finish.”
Chris leans forward, catching your lips in deep, heated kiss as his hand moves to align his cock to your entrance. His breath trembles against your lips as he pushes it in, easier this time but not less satisfying.
You open your legs wider, giving him more room to penetrate you deeper and when you know he’s buried to the hilt, you wrap your legs around him, not letting him pull away even an inch.
He softly chuckles as he breaks the kiss. “You’re not letting me get away this time, huh?”
You shake your head, grinning. “Not a chance.”
Fortunately, Chris can't resist you any longer either, he needs you now. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in practiced motions. His hands grip your hips hard, pulling you closer to him as he starts moving.
He moves at a slow, steady pace that allows you to feel every drag of his cock against your walls, his skin brushing yours in the slightest movement, his heat blending with yours. You look at him and he looks back into your eyes, a hand finds yours and you interlace it as the two of you continue moving in sync, becoming one in the moment.
And suddenly, it all feels too much that you get hit by a wave of emotions. Love, devotion, longing and everything in between stirred inside you until you can’t take it anymore but let them pouring out of you.
Chris feels your tears against his skin and he knows he needs to take it easy. He still wants to give you pleasure—that's his goal after all—but he doesn't want to hurt you, either.
“Hey, baby…” he coos against your hair, voice gentler now. His hands leave your hips to wipe gently at the tears streaming down your face. “Am I going too rough? Are you hurt?”
The genuine concern and care in his voice makes your heart aches in the best way. You cradle his face with both hands, holding it like a fragile object.
“I just love you so much,” your voice shakes at the end of the sentence from the weight of meaning it carries.
Chris wasn’t expecting that. His thrusts slow, his grip on your waist softening as he stares down at you, your fingers lightly trailing his jaws now, your eyes wet but happy. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice breaking just a little.
“Babe—” He kisses you, deep and lingering, before pulling back just enough to murmur, “I love you so, so much.”
Then he moves again, but slower, deeper, pouring every ounce of that love into each roll of his hips, his hands cradling you like you’re something precious. “My wife… my love…” he whispers between kisses. “My forever.”
Soon, his breathing is ragged, his movements getting more intense, more desperate. He needs to see you come apart, he needs to be the one to make you feel this way—it's more than a want, it's a need.
“That's it, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, so close. “Come for me. Come for me… Come for me, darling. Don't hold back.”
You do, you feel your high closing in, it’s coming fast and irrepressible. Your eyes screwed shut, your hands gripping at his arms now, nails digging into the flesh. You feel it building and building inside you until you can’t take it anymore.
“Chris…” you sharply gasp, nails digging deeper into his skin.
He feels you come around him, he knows you're feeling overwhelmed with pleasure and that thought alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. He doesn't stop like he usually does, letting you ride it out—he knows he can’t wait another second for his turn so he keeps moving, his pace rougher, his eyes locked on yours.
“Just a little bit more, yeah?” he moans, his voice heavy with want, his grip on your waist tightening.
“Take a little bit more for me,” he manages to say, his mouth finding your neck, kissing and nibbling gently
And you let him, you let him chases his own high as you grip his shoulders, wrapping your legs tighter around him to ground yourself in the moment.
Chris loses himself in you, in the way you feel, in the way you let him take what he needs without hesitation. His rhythm falters, his breathing ragged as he buries himself deep one last time, his release crashing over him with a groan that’s half your name, half a supressed profanity. He collapses against you, still trembling, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder as he catches his breath.
You gently curve an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and allowing you to place tender, little kisses on his temple down to his jaw. You ignore the sheen of sweat coated his forehead and make a new trail of kisses there.
Chan exhales shakily at the sensation of your soft kisses—your lips brushing his cheeks, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth—while his palm presses possessively against your stomach. His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer as he murmurs.
“Take it all…” His voice thick with reverence. “I want you full of me.”
He holds you there, both of you still trembling from the aftershocks, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. The intimacy is almost overwhelming—the way he adores you, the way you let him claim you so completely.
When he finally speaks again, it’s barely above a whisper. “All mine.”
-
The blanket is pulled to your chest like a shield against the aftershocks pulsing through your body. You’re still stretched across the sheets, limbs loose and heavy, trying to gather your breath back into something steady. Your skin still hums, your heartbeat roaming everywhere at once.
Chris sits beside you, propped on one elbow, wearing that victorious little curve at the corner of his mouth that you want to smack and kiss in equal measure. His thumb softly brushes at the damp trails on your cheeks as if he wants to erase every trace of what he caused but also absolutely loves that it’s there.
You scoff, still breathless, voice scratchy but playful. “Guess who made another girl cry today?”
He doesn’t even pretend to look guilty. That smug glimmer only deepens as he strokes your cheek again, eyes warm and utterly unrepentant. “Guilty,” he says, softness wrapped around the tease.
You want to roll your eyes, but instead he leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s slow, almost lazy, like he wants to savor the taste of the moment lingering between your lips. You sink into it because you can’t help the warmth, the steadiness of his hand on your jaw, the familiar pull of affection.
But then, a sound sound cracks through the quiet of the house.
Both of you stop moving for a heartbeat to hear better, to know for sure that they two of you didn’t imagine it. The sound is distant, muffled behind walls, but unmistakable. That tiny, trembly cry you’ve learned by heart.
Addie.
Maternal instinct scrapes you back into awareness like a bell rung inside your bones. You pull back and whisper, already shifting upright, “That’s her”
Chris is already moving. He grabs his sweatpants from the floor, tugging them on in rushed, uneven motions before padding toward the hallway.
As Chris goes to check on Addie, you sit up with a groan and tug the blanket tighter just long enough to breathe through the soreness. Clothes are scattered across the floor like a breadcrumb trail of earlier choices. You gather them quickly, slipping into the first things you find, fingers fumbling slightly as you fix the straps of your camisole.
A minute later, Chris reappears in the doorway of the bedroom, his brows drawn with concern. “She wants you,” he says gently.
That makes you pause because Addie usually prefers her dad to help her ward the nightmares away or whenever she cries at night.
“Me?”
He nods. “Yeah, you.”
That’s all it takes for worry to spark through you. You hurry past him, bare feet padding over the hallway floor, your pulse accelerating not with panic but with that deep-rooted instinct that something in your little girl needs you.
The door to her room is cracked open, a faint spill of warm nightlight glowing through the gap. You step inside with Chris following right behind you, putting on a smile as you take another step.
Addie is sitting upright in her little bed, knees tucked close, small fists scrubbing at swollen eyes. Her face is blotchy, her lip trembling, her breaths uneven. She looks heartbreakingly tiny in her pastel blankets. And when her gaze finds you, she breaks.
A wail spills out of her, raw and scared, and you rush to her side. She practically launches herself into your arms, climbing into your lap, straddling you with the fierce urgency only children possess. Her arms lock around your neck and she buries her wet face into your chest, sobbing against your skin as if you’re the only thing keeping her anchored.
You hold her tight, one hand smoothing circles over her back, the other cupping the back of her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” you whisper into her hair, rocking her slightly. “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s right here.”
Chris kneels beside the bed, brushing her messy hair out of her face with gentle fingers, his voice soft with concern. “Hey, flower bud. What’s going on, hmm?”
It takes time for the sobs to settle into sniffles. Addie hiccups, clinging to you with little shuddery breaths. When she finally lifts her head, her lashes are stuck together with tears.
You tuck a strand behind her ear. “Sweetie… what’s wrong? Why were you crying?”
She tries to speak, but her voice stutters through leftover tremors. “I… I h-heard… Mommy crying.”
You feel a breath caught in your throat while Chris’s eyebrows shoot up. He glances at you, biting back a smile he really shouldn’t be wearing right now.
You keep your voice calm as you ask again. “You heard… Mommy crying?”
She nods hard. “And s-screaming. A-and… the door was closed so I… I couldn’t check on Mommy.”
Her lip wobble returns. “I wanted to help you.”
Oh.
Oh, this pure, innocent child.
Heat creeps up your neck as last hour’s… volume… flashes through your mind. You and Chris exchange a look that is entirely too knowing.
Chris’s mouth twitches. You kick him lightly with your toe. But your heart squeezes at the sincerity in Addie’s face — the worry, the protectiveness far too big for her small body.
You kiss the top of her head, lingering. “Oh, baby… thank you for caring about mommy.”
You stroke her cheek. “I’m so sorry the door was closed.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I think Daddy closed the door,” he admits under his breath. “Accidentally.”
You send him a look that promises conversation later and then you cup Addie’s jaw gently, guiding her to look at you. “Mommy’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Mommy’s safe. Mommy’s not hurt at all.”
Your voice softens even further as you hold her little body tighter. “Thank you for worrying me. Oh, my little Addie is such an angel.”
She sniffles, leaning into your hand before wrapping her arms around you again, clinging like she doesn’t want to let go.
After a moment, you ask, “Want to try going back to sleep?”
She immediately shakes her head, cheeks puffing out, eyes wide and glistening.
You hide a smile. “What do you want then?”
Addie gazes up at you with that innocent, hopeful twinkle. “Can I… have a cookie?”
Your laugh is soft, warm, because she is just so adorable with her tear-flushed cheeks and tiny, wobbly voice.
“Okay,” you say, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “One cookie. Just one.”
She nods quickly, but then—
“Can I have it with milk, Mommy?”
You tuck her hair behind her ear, smoothing it down. “Yes, you can.”
Then you look at Chris, who is already halfway toward standing. “Daddy,” you say, voice light but aiming, “cookie and milk for Addie, please?”
He straightens and puts a hand over his heart like you’ve given him a mission of national importance. “Yes, ma’am.”
Addie sniffles and reaches out her hand toward him as he stands, and Chris takes it, giving it a little squeeze before heading for the kitchen.
You hold your daughter close, feeling her tiny heartbeat slowing against you, grateful for the sweetness — even in the chaos of midnight tears.
-
Chris watches you move around the kitchen in that soft, warm hush that only exists in the middle of the night. Addie waits curled into the sofa like a sleepy kitten, blanket clutched under her chin, eyes drooping while she watches you both move around the kitchen.
He pours milk into a small pot and sets it over low heat. The quiet hum of the flame fills the silence… until he sidles up next to you at the counter. He bumps his shoulder into yours, voice dipping low, mischief weaving through the air like static.
“I told you to be quiet.”
You turn your head slowly, giving him that look. You hiss back under your breath, “It was because you insisted about making babies and went at it like you were trying to put ten babies all at once inside me.”
Chris fails as he tries to bite back a grin and angles his body closer, lowering his mouth to your ear. His breath ghosts over your skin. “I’m not sorry at all.”
You jab your elbow into his ribs, not hard at all, but he yelps dramatically anyway. “Ouch! Violence! Our daughter is watching!”
He clutches his side like he’s wounded in battle, giving you wide, wounded eyes just to make you roll yours.
You don’t indulge him. You just grab Addie’s cookie from the counter and walk away, refusing to deal with your husband’s ridiculousness.
He watches you go — the sway of your walk, the sleepy tenderness in the way you settle beside Addie. You offer her the cookie with a whisper-soft smile, brushing crumbs from her cheek as she leans into you, trusting, safe.
Chris warms the milk just right, pours it into her favorite cup, and turns toward you two. Then he catches you give him that look again. The one you weren’t even trying for. The one with tenderness layered over the remnants of desire. A warmth that pulls him in every time. He feels it. In his chest, in his pulse, in the slow curl of a smile tugging at his mouth.
Even in the dim kitchen light, with your daughter half-asleep beside you, you still manage to give him those eyes.
And he, predictably, eternally, is drawn to them.
-
A long moment later, Chris is the only one left in the kitchen, rinses the glass and plate Addie used, wipes the counter, flips the switch. The kitchen instantly bathed in darkness.
Your laughter mixed with Addie’s giggles carrying down the hall and it tugs him forward, making him impatient to join in.
When he steps into the bedroom, he finds you tucked beneath the covers with Addie curled into your side, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt while you stroke her back in a slow, sleepy rhythm. She blinks up at you, lids heavy, murmuring something small and warm, and you nod along like her words are the most important ones ever spoken. You always do that. You meet her softness with a softness of your own, as if you were made to fill this exact shape in her world.
Chris feels that sudden swell in his chest. That unguarded, unshakable ache.
You open your eyes when he approaches, catching him mid-admiration. Your lips curl into that tired, sly smile that never fails to tilt his gravity.
“Stop giving me the eyes,” you whisper.
He does the opposite. His hand drifts to your face, thumb brushing the warm bend of your jaw. He lets his gaze linger, unshielded, telling you everything he knows words trip over.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
Your smile softens like dawn light stretching across a quiet street and you open your mouth to say it back to him but someone else beat you to it.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Addie mutters with drowsy eyes.
You softly chuckle at it and repeat the words with sincerity and affection brimming in your eyes. “We love you, Daddy.”
And Chris feels those words in his flesh and bones, and beneath them — his heart.
He leans in and kisses you long enough for his pulse to steady, long enough for something in him to settle. Then he leans over to kiss Addie’s forehead, her tiny sigh puffing against his cheek.
When he finally slides beneath the covers, he reaches for your hand automatically, like muscle memory born from another lifetime. Your fingers lace with his. His thumb traces lazy arcs along the back of your hand, and your breathing gradually slips into the gentle cadence of sleep.
Soon, the room falls into silence.
Chris stays awake a little longer, anchored by the weight of your hand in his. Addie’s tiny breaths flutter against your chest. Your fingers stay curled with his, even in sleep, as if your body refuses to let go of him even for a moment. And something inside him unfurls, warm and steady, like a lantern being lit behind his ribs.
He looks at the two of you and feels the future tug at him in quiet, glowing shapes. Not the kind of future that arrives all at once. The kind that grows like a tree. Slow, patient, unwavering.
He can already see it. Mornings with bedhead and pancakes for breakfast. Afternoons where Addie’s legs get longer, where your laughter fills corners of the house he hasn’t even paid attention to yet. Evenings where he comes home to chaos and comfort braided together. Maybe little footsteps trailing behind Addie someday, siblings with her smile or your eyes, each one another small miracle he never thought would be his.
He thinks about birthdays and scraped knees and tiny backpacks. About school plays where he records the entire thing even though he swears he won’t. About you in the kitchen, rolling your eyes at him while he shows the kids the same silly magic trick over and over again. About holding you on the couch after everyone’s finally asleep, closing the day together in the warmth of each other’s arms.
He lets the visions spill softly through him, each one planting another root. His thumb drifts over the back of your hand again and then presses a kiss to your knuckles as if sealing the moment into something he can carry forever.
This life didn’t just happen to him. It bloomed around him, piece by piece, until it became a garden of everything he once only dreamt about.
And as he watches you and Addie sleep, Chris feels it with a clarity that sweeps through him.
He’s ready for every season this family will grow through. Ready to watch you bloom in new ways. Ready to watch Addie stretch into whoever she becomes. Ready to welcome every new branch, every new beginning, every new laugh that will one day echo through these walls.
This is only the first chapter.
And with his girls sleeping beside him, hearts beating steady and close, Chris promises himself he’ll spend a lifetime tending to this future. Letting it grow. Letting it flourish.
Because nothing feels more certain, more hopeful, more beautiful…
than knowing his family has so much blooming left to do.
-
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