effymaybe

[effymaybe]

Good morning! Here’s a thought: Mon is a big football fan. She likes to buy Sam ManU T-shirts and make her wear them in the privacy of their home. She likes to watch her, to take pictures of her. It gives her a rush, and Sam profits prominently from Mon’s happiness, so it’s all nice and fair. Mon also loves to ride Sam’s stomach while she wears her shirts. So what about it? Mon mewls, all tender and sticky, feeling Sam squirm under her, steady hands keeping her going on an almost punishing pace. Sam smirks, all bright eyes and clever fingers. She humps up just to get Mon gasping. Her T-shirt gets a bit wet in the process and Sam loves it. She’s becoming a football fan, too. 

[effymaybe]

about last night 28.03.2023

[effymaybe]

Mon’s curiosity leads her home. Luckily, Sam is already waiting for her.

Warning: Sam being a vampire, +18, Sam being a romantic

-

Mon has got a curious soul. It has been evident since she was only a child, eager to drink up fact after fact under the amused gazed of her -still together- parents. She would read everything and anything she could get her little hands on, ready to hide in the most unsuspected spaces to go through her sacred reading sessions without major distractions. Little Mon grew up, went through sorrowful moments, built her own bubbles of happiness, and learned how to be her true sunny self without letting other take advantage of her generous nature. And she kept her curiosity, which has proved to be mostly beneficial for her studies, although it has indeed led her to quite debatably unsafe situations.

Like, for example, right at this moment, when she’s walking on a muddy ground with only her light backpack on and a shaky flashlight illuminating her way through the depth of a misty night. In her defense, that questionable tourist guide shouldn’t have pointed at the exact castle she’s now walking to from the comfort of their tour bus only to say “this one is not available”. Mon had questions. Of course she had questions. How could the rest not have them? But the man merely shot her an attempt of a charming smile and told her that the area was not included in any historical tour ever because “it is hard to get to”.

So Mon -optimistic, strong-headed Mon- is testing this argument by herself. So far, difficult track, yes, but not impossible. Her boots dig into the wild soil and she has so narrow her sight to see just a meter into the distance. The air is dense, cold. Mon feels her lungs staring to strain a bit. She makes a brief pause to inhale deeply and searches almost unconsciously for the stone castle sitting at the top of the uneven hill she has memorized. She doesn’t see it, of course, with all the mist numbing the moonlight, and right then it almost seems like it was never there, that it was mystical artifact that her imagination pieced together only to fuck with her.

But Mon knows better, and she keeps willing her legs to walk up, up, up.

The truth is, Mon may be a bit obsessed. There is something about the mystery, about the way she felt when she saw the castle for the first –and only- time, the fact that there is no information anywhere, not in the internet, not in the seven libraries she spent hours in with the hope of finding something. Nowhere. She has dreamed about the castle. She has been thinking about it almost constantly, sometimes sinking into rushes that made shivers crawl up her skin. There is such a pull, such an energy calling from within the depth of its stone carcass that she finds herself like this, sinking into the darkness to avoid a serious fine for trespassing property.

But it will be worthy, Mon thinks, and she gets closer and closer, until the silhouette of the castle is already visible, and she feels… she feels. It is excitement. It is a pang of fear. It’s a need, something that makes her mouth dry, and Mon is a smart girl, she knows that she is in potential danger, but she comes to stand in front of a massive, impotent door and she’s joyful. She reaches with unsure fingers to caress the pattern of the wood. There are symbols that she doesn’t recognize and the thought dampens her happiness. She should know more. She should know it all, figure this intriguing place up, write it somewhere, take account of every single detail, the indents on the blocks, the lights pulsating dimly through the windows.

Mon frowns.

Her gaze fixes on the yellowish glow dying in the night. There is someone inside, most likely living in the castle. Mon takes a startled step back. She feels undoubtedly drawn, tied to her curiosity, but there is no way she’s going to force her way inside someone’s home. So she’s about to leave, inexplicably disheartened, when a chirring sound begins to echo through the mist. The gate opens slowly, then, painfully, wood cracking in an effort that it seemingly hasn’t made in years. And Mon stands in front of it stunned, her lips parted in surprise as she takes in a giant, cozy gallery equipped with the most luxurious furniture she has seen in her life.

Mon hesitates. Then, she takes a step inside. She cannot consider the gesture exactly an invitation. Hell, she hasn’t even made herself known, and nobody is really waiting for her at the other side. But it is so warm inside, so beautiful. There is a faint smell of jasmine wrapping around her senses. She takes another step inside, marveled. The pictures are simple, wonderfully framed. There is a mixture of time periods, seats from the 17th century, chests from centuries prior, art belonging to rococo. There are ostentatious carpets, polished chandeliers, scented candles melting on expensive holders. Mon can only guess that the owner must be a collector, someone both well formed in the arts and impressively rich, and it is in the midst of this thought that the gate closes in a thud just behind her back.

She should be afraid, but the place is… so beautiful. So familiar. She lets her backpack fall on the floor. Her eyes trace the room and she finds it pleasing. Everything is where it should be. The light, the cushions, the energy floating around. Mon is not home, but- why does it feel like this? Why does she feel like she could take a nap in the couch, watch the fire crackle, be embraced, be loved-

“Good evening”.

Mon gasps. Her whole body jolts up at the deep voice demanding her attention and she turns around and sees…her.

God, she thinks. God, god. Watching her stands the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. Her raven hair falls in careful pieces down her back. Her eyes are powerful, gorgeous, full of a quiet passion that has Mon shaking. Her nose is perky, perfectly small within her sharp features and her mouth, God, so luscious, plump and reddened. She’s wearing a black silken robe that kisses her thigs. It’s wrapped tightly around her perfect figure. Mon shouldn’t be staring, but she’s in a total daze. She wants to kneel. She was to burn red and fade away, never to disturb a fragment of such perplexing beauty.

But the creature waits, her mouth curled down as she breathes deeply, and Mon regains her senses in deep embarrassment.

“Hi- hello. Good evening. Sorry”.

It comes out in a breathless rush and Mon’s cheeks heat up. The creature in front of her and inhales, sets her jaw, purses her lips before licking them. Mon wonders if she made her mad.

“Sorry. My name is Mon. I didn’t mean to intrude. The gate opened and- I just really like the place. I don’t know. I’m not a burglar! I’ll just- I’ll just leave”.

She turns around almost frantically but she doesn’t make it anywhere.

“No!”

Mon’s eyes widen at the short command. It comes out almost as if in desperation. She wants to question it, to take a step back, but the woman walks closer to her and… and she obeys.

“Stay”.  Mon tilts her head lightly. “I’m Marchioness Samanan”. She makes a slight pause. “Sam. Sam is alright”.

Mon nods hesitantly, feeling sweat forming in the palms of her hands. She cannot take her eyes away from her. Sam stares back with the same intensity, overwhelming her. There is something palpable between them, pulling, pulling.

Sam steps closer. Mon is invaded with the desire of letting her touch her.

“You said you like the castle”. Sam comments. Mon needs a moment to thread two thoughts together.

“Yes. I saw it in a tour”.

Sam narrows her eyes. Her gaze drifts to Mon’s nose, her cheeks, her lips. She keeps moving and Mon’s breath grows ragged. She cannot be real. She cannot be human.

“This building is not included in any excursion. I made sure of it. It belongs to me”.

She growls lowly and Mon feels it shaking her deeply. She’s melting, helpless, and Sam comes to stand an inch away from her body. She uses all her willpower not to reach out, not to jump into her arms, no matter how much she desires it, how natural it comes to her mind. It isn’t right, it isn’t right, but it’s so, so alluring.

“I know”, she manages, “I just saw it passing, and I tried to look for information, and then-”

“Then you had your dreams”, Sam finishes.

Mon should be surprised, terrified, full of dread. Sam holds her chin in two strong fingers and Mon cannot think straight.

“Poor soul, you must have been so lost. Desperately longing to be here, safe and warm. I bet that you thought about it. I bet that you were so confused as for why it was eating you alive, consuming every single of your hours”.

Sam’s face draws closer. Mon can smell her sweet perfume, see all the details carefully sitting on her perfect face. Her own skin jumps under Sam’s cool touch. Mon barely remembers how she got there. She barely remembers anything else. Everything is Sam, her smooth voice, her vice grip. Mon’s eyes brim with tears just because it’s too much and not nearly enough. She wants to succumb. She wants to be consumed.

“Mon”, Sam says finally, and Mon almost faints. Say it again, she wishes silently, say it again, and again, and again. “Tell me”, Sam commands. “Speak up”.

Mon takes in air through her mouth. Sam’s eyes fix on her parted lips. “Who are you?”, she asks finally. “What are you? What’s this? Why do I feel… like this?”

Sam’s stare softens. She looks at her with such a tenderness that makes every single of Mon’s walls crumble down in defeat. A strong arm curls itself around her waist and Mon sinks into it mindlessly.

“Oh, my love. You know”. In a swift movement, Sam’s greedy mouth latches on Mon’s exposed neck. She mewls, surprised, struck by pleasure. Mon wants to give up everything. She tilts her head just for Sam to get more access to her skin and she feels her moaning against her throat, clearly affected. “You know, you know”, Sam mumbles. Then, she sucks again, frenzied. The hand that was holding Mon’s chin grasps her nape tightly. “Why you came here. What you were searching for. Me. It’s me, Mon”.

And Mon does know, suddenly. It comes crashing down suddenly, in a million shooting stars, and it grows and grows in her chest. Sam pulls her into a soaring kiss, then, and all her thoughts are a tangled mess. Nothing stands relevant besides the warmth of Sam’s mouth, the way that she’s devouring her, broken in hunger, and all she can do is take it, take it, take it.  Mon circles Sam’s neck with her arms and feels the grip on her waist strengthening, bordering pain in the most delicious way. Sam licks into her mouth and Mon grunts, gone. Sam’s hands caress her figure in desperation, palms her breast, digs blunt nails into her skin. Mon hisses, bites her lower lip, grinds her hips against Sam’s and she can’t take it anymore.

“I need you”, she pants. It makes no sense. None of that makes sense. The way she’s pliant under this woman’s- this creature’s wishes. “I need you, Sam. Please”.

Sam looks delighted. She pulls away to lock an enamored gaze with Mon’s open expression.

“You’ll have me, my darling”, her hands rush to untie Mon from her clothes. Undeserving, useless, a damned barrier, in Sam’s eyes. She wants to have Mon bare, ready for her, endlessly pure under her condemned touch. Mon complies eagerly. She wants out of her clothes, too. “You’ll have me in any way you desire”, Sam tells her, and then dives into sucking her collarbones. She smells so fucking good. “And I’ll have you just like I want, too”.

Mon gasps when Sam suckles on her chest. She’s pulsing, vulnerable, electric. Sam leads her to the couch and she falls on it in a guided gesture, wanting nothing but to feel her cold skin sliding against her.

“Please- please take off yours, too. I need- I need it. I don’t-”

She hiccups and Sam grasps her face with steady fingers. Her sweet angel, lovely soul, she has nothing to fear. Not anymore.

“Yes, love. Anything for you. Don’t you worry”. She makes a quick work on her own robe straddling Mon’s thigs. “I’m here already”.

Mon wants to chant. She wants to laugh with joy and cry out of relief, and burry her fingers in Sam’s core, and let herself be wrecked, again and again. God, she’s gone for. Sam looks so stunning pressed on her legs, baring her gorgeous figure just for Mon to see. It’s a gift, an offering. Mon’s mouth waters before Sam kisses her once again, deep and needy. A frosty touch squeezes her breasts, travels lower, plays with her folds cruelly. Mon can only arch up, frustrated, groaning brokenly. On top of her, Sam pants, dives into her neck and tongues at her pulse point.

“Mon”, she rasps out. Mon nods desperately. “I need this darling. I can’t hold back anymore. You smell-”, she gasps loudly, suckles on her neck with abandon. Sam presses her long fingers on Mon’s core and she would give her anything, anything.

“Yes, yes. Fill me up, please”

And Sam does, rough and steady, still attached to her throat, wondering how she got so damn lucky.

“I waited for so long, Mon, my only hope. I’ve waited for fucking centuries”. Each couple of words is a deep thrust that has Mon clenching in desperation. She loves it. She loves the roughness, the words, Sam’s mouth desperately latching on everywhere. “Now I have you”, she mumbles against her mouth. There is fire in her words, a strand of addiction. Mon moans when Sam curls her fingers inside her and pulls on her lower lip with a nip. “You’re all mine now, Mon. Finally. I’m just- you are so perfect, angel. So ready for me. All mine”.

And yes, Mon is so ready for her. She’s so, so ready. She tangles her hands in Sam’s locks and pushes her down, chanting her hips desperately. She just needs something else, something that is calling from the back of her head. It hurts. It’s so wonderful but it keeps burning, growing endless, and Mon needs a bit more, needs to give herself up right, needs-

“Bite me”, she begs. “Bite me, bite me. Drink me up. Please, Sam”.

Sam moans. Of course her sweet love would ask her that. She’s so perfect, made for her. They are just made for each other.

So she noses her throat, inhales deeply, lets herself enjoy her last strand of self-control while she keeps thrusting into Mon in a steady rhythm. Mon squirms under her, mewls, curls her toes. Sam can’t take it anymore. Her fangs extend pointy and sharp before sinking into Mon’s sensitive skin, making her moan out in a sting of pain. So good, so good, Mon thinks in a frenzy, and then Sam thumbs her clit and a rush of spit enters her bloodstream, and Mon feels white, endless pleasure jolting through her whole body. She groans from the back of her throat and shakes violently between Sam’s strong arms, bathing in the words whispered in her ears.

“Fuck, Mon. Fuck. You taste to fucking good”. Sam drinks her up with abandon before peppering kisses along her skin. “You are just delicious. Everything about you. I can’t wait to taste you all over”.

Mon settles down just like that, nestled in caring arms, filled with pompous compliments. It makes her feel so nice, so safe. She doesn’t remember the last time everything fell into perfect pieces like this. Sam moves her body so she can lie on top of her and it’s even warmer. It shouldn’t be, she thinks faintly, with Sam’s cool skin kissing her own, but there is suddenly a blanket covering her body, and there are nice hands running through her back. She breathes slowly, dizzy. The fire still cracks on the fireplace.

“You can ask me anything”, Sam murmurs after a while, and Mon feels her arms tightening around her body.

“What are you scared of?”, she asks in a whisper, and then pulls back to look at Sam right in her face. She looks surprised, taken aback. There are a million questions to ask, but Mon chose the one nagging her brain the most.

Sam blinks twice before sighing in defeat.

“I’m afraid of you trying to leave”, she answers. “Because- because I don’t know if I can allow it. I don’t know if I have the strength, Mon. It’s been so long, and to finally have you here… It’s everything”.

Her eyes burn into Mon, pleading. Her voice is smaller than ever, sweet and breathless. There is a slight, reddish smudge drying on the bottom of her lower lip. Mon thinks that she wants to see it all, to hear it all.

“Will you tell me all about it?”, she asks. Sam’s eyes water with the weight of a thousand memories.

Why should it matter? It was so long ago, her life before knowing Mon. It was full of despair, of disappointment, of anger. She waited, and waited, and waited. And Mon wasn’t there to live all of that with her. But she is here now, her doe-eyed angel, and she’s asking for something very simple, and Sam would give her anything, anything she could ever ask for. Almost anything.

“Yes”, she finds herself saying, and Mon smiles for the first time since she met her.

There is nothing else, Sam thinks then, nothing else but the curve of her lips, the light behind her eyes, the way soft indents appear in her forehead. That is her soulmate. Her soulmate that is finally wrapped around her arms, illuminating the place with her lovely aura. Sam pecks her lips, helpless, kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, the mark she left on her neck and Mon giggles and shivers, clearly overwhelmed.

“I’ll have to go out sometimes, too”, Mon reasons between kisses. Sam whines lowly against her jaw and Mon bites of an ironic snort. Deathly creature, people would say. “To the supermarket, and to study… maybe other things. I can’t just disappear, Sam”.

Sam frowns and Mon swoons. She’s so, so, pretty. She cannot wait to know everything about her. She grasps her delicate face with her hands.

“But you’ll live here”, Sam argues, “This is your home”.

Mon hums and kisses her deeply. She feels a renewed pulse between her legs. The wound in her neck stings deliciously, too, and Mon wonders whether she’ll get Sam to bite her again. It’s crazy, but damn it, she has never been a coward. The pull she feels towards her, the string tying them inevitably, the way her soul chants Sam’s name again and again. She found her, too. She feels at peace, ecstatic, full of a certainty that shakes every doubt away. Her indents press against Sam’s thigh and she finds them wet from when she had Mon grinding against her. It’s wonderful.

“Mon”, Sam insists then, “Tell me. I want you to say it”, she demands, “that you’ll live with me”.

“I’ll move in”, Mon answers carelessly. Of course she will. Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. She kisses her again and this time Sam corresponds more than happily, letting Mon suck on her tongue eagerly.

Mon mouths down her body, then, exploring, drinking in Sam’s lovely sounds. She sucks her breasts, licks down her sternum, bites on her thighs viciously. Sam’s skin fills her with a hunger that has her salivating. God, she wants do devour her. She wants Sam to pull on her hair, keep her tight against her core, command her, do with her whatever she pleases. When she finds herself marveling between Sam’s legs, she looks up to find a hazy gaze fixed on her mouth.

“It’s been a while”, Sam confesses, although with more longing than embarrassment. The words make Mon light up, feel invincible. She smirks sultrily, drawn by Sam’s smell.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you never have to wait for it again”.

Sam has a fraction of a second to be impressed by the statement before diving into deep pleasure.

-

“Will you ever turn me?”, Mon asks softly.

The sun is caressing her features. They’ve been talking for hours, fucking between whispered words, sinking into the feeling of having each other. Throughout the night, Sam gave Mon a quick tour around the castle, fingered on the stairs, in the shower, on their bed. Mon is completely spent and Sam decided that she absolutely adores that expression on her face, corrupted and satisfied.

“I cannot lose you”, Sam answers merely, and Mon knows what it means.

She ponders for a second, gravitates around the thought.

“Now?”, she asks.

Sam breathes deeply.

“Whenever you are ready”.

Mon hums.

“When I graduate? We’ll be closer in age. I mean- well, you know what I mean”.

Sam smiles softly and Mon smiles back. It is such a lovely sight, Sam brightening up, a joyful curve breaking with her frosty expression. It makes her look younger, free of the weight of countless years. Such a beauty. Mon’s stomach curls in a rush of butterflies. Her hands run through Sam’s long hair with absolute delicacy. God, she’s lucky.

“Yes, my love”, Sam answers, and cuddles deeper into her. Mon yawns. “Anything you’d like. I just want you here”.

And Mon knows that she means. Here I my bed, here in my house, here in my life. Here in this eternal lifetimes, here in what is there to come. To heal, to grow, to live. It’s not much, what Sam asks from her, really. And Mon just likes the same, just as much.

“Let’s be here together, then”.

Mon falls asleep at home.

[effymaybe]

can’t write a prompt these days work is killing me but:

Sam breathes deeply, tightens her hold on Mon’s waist just because she can, because she has her sitting prettily on her lap, because she has her for herself, again, forever.

She takes into her perfume, inhales softly and exhales in a shudder. It’s too much. It’s never enough. Mon shifts subtly and Sam pulls away to look into her eyes. It’s calm, and tense, and many other things that inhabit the strenght of their string. Mon licks her lips and Sam tugs her body and pulls her into a slow, spiraling kiss that has both of her panting. Sam’s hands tremble. She lets her fingers run through Mon’s hair and then down her neck, her back, her hips. She can’t get enough of Mon. She tongues into her mouth and Mon lets out the cutest little sound and Sam drinks it up, crazy in a sudden thirst.

She pulls away and looks at Mon again. Her pupils are dilated, endless, beautiful. Sam cannot believe that it is all for her, all the feelings brewing behind Mon’s stare. But, it is, it is, because Mon says I love you and Sam tears up and smiles, big and geniune as joy spreads everywhere, spills out of her heart, makes her want to stay in there forever and ever. I love you more, she chokes out, and Mon laughs because this isn’t a competition, love, but it’s all good and nice.

Sam dives into Mon’s neck and there is significantly less talking.

[effymaybe]

[effymaybe]

Prompt- Do people treat Mon differently after she marries Sam? As in, do her crazy coworkers give her a name like they gave Lady Boss to Sam?... and speaking of Sam, does Mon ever stop calling her own wife Lady Sam?? 😆

You see, Mon’s departure and eventual return worked as a rollercoaster of emotions for her coworkers as well. Mainly because in the few months Mon was part of the staff, Lady Boss grew… softer. She was still undoubtedly commanding, well-put, and demanding, and she still burned her gaze into whoever wasn’t working properly within her radio, but there was something about her demeanor that faltered under Mon’s light presence. Her features relaxed almost unconsciously, even if for a second, and her mind drifted off to a place she was only dragged away from when her employers asked for help repeated times. And really, with all the time she spent with Mon, it was hard for her to scold the rest of the staff. So, Mon was some sort of a blessing. And she was nice and cute, soft around the edges, and an honestly good worker.

Then, she left for a while, and Lady Boss came back in revenge, more merciless than ever. Mon-less Khun Sam was angry, but not in result of blazing ire curling in her very stomach. It would have been better, almost, having her throwing mere tantrums and stomping around like she used to. That was something the Diversity staff was used to, but definitely not to this version of a- sorrowful, broken Lady Boss, muttering insults, looking pale, blank, searching through the office again and again. She would lock herself into the office until late, or sometimes merely watch them work with a grimace twisting her lips, silent, her eyes reddened under the weight of a feeling her employees knew better than to mention. Yha and Chin were kicked out. The office became greyer as Khun Sam lost her own colors. It was sad watching it all unfold, unstoppable.

And then Mon came back. One day she posted a shy picture of her with Lady Boss hugging her tightly, cheeks pressed together and high in a joyful smile. The other day, Mon was back to work, walking swiftly into the office guided by a renewed Khun Sam. Yha and Chin rushed through the door just behind them, and the moment was fairly comical. They looked at the couple with huge eyes and made happy gestures, and of course they were caught by both Mon and their boss but they were not immediately fired- just one minute after getting their jobs back. Khun Sam rolled her eyes instead, and Mon giggled with her face burning and it was all okay. Lady Boss smiled softly at the sound and it almost caused a chain of fainted workers because smiling? And then she kissed Mon on the cheek and whispered I love you, baby, see you in a while and Yha choked a squeal and Noi gasped, and Mon was left on their own to answer a myriad of questions.

Not longer than two hours later, Mon received a call that made her sparkly eyes light up even more. Everyone pretended not to listen but they did, and everyone kept quiet when she whispered yes, love, on my way, but they all smiled inwardly because happy boss, happy life, right? Mon stood up, grasped her laptop and walked straight to Sam’s office. She even ignored Yha’s sly smirk on her way there. I mean, she was not entirely off in her thoughts, after all.

Mon kept being nice and Lady Boss started being nicer. So they could have come up with a mean nickname for their workmate, but, come on, Mon was all pink and sweet and she made Khun Sam damn happy, so what was the point of being malicious? Sometimes, though, a few beers in, Chin would call her Mon the Savior and Mon would giggle it off. And Yha and Noi would call her Boss Tamer, mainly within each other, and pray for Khun Sam never to find out about it. Although, given the way their boss gazed over at Mon, soft and melting, with the absolute force of love tinting her features, they guessed she wouldn’t mind it too much. And given the heated gazes Mon sent towards her way sometimes, both in the middle of the office or late into their staff dinner parties, curling her lips with the promise of more, they guessed she wouldn’t complain neither.

[effymaybe]

also freenbecky girlfriends, come on 

[effymaybe]

where the hell is the gay agenda my days are disorganized 

[effymaybe]

GAP THE SERIES (2022-2023)

 + nothing burns as bright as you, ashley woodfolk.  

[effymaybe]

Sam cannot wait to have Mon again. So she doesn’t. 

-

Sam closes the front door an inch away from of own back. She’s rushing, borderline desperate, running against the time just to be besides Mon again, to push her flush against her body, smell her hair, run her hands through her silky skin and finally, finally feel complete again. It’s been so long she almost doesn’t know what to do, having Mon, her sweet angel, her air and her soul standing in front of her after she thought she had lost her forever. So she stands still, terrified, until Mon stretches a gentle hand, presses her indents on her damp cheek and Sam crashes against her like a wave. She’s real. She’s real and nice, and warm, and everything Sam missed and her mouth searches for Mon’s as if starving, taking and giving all she can while Mon mewls in equal abandon.

“I missed you”, Sam mumbles between ardent kisses and she wraps her arms around Mon’s waist tightly. She can’t let her go. Not again. There’s no other place for them to be than there, melting in each other’s heat. “I missed you. I missed you”.

She’s tearing up and she doesn’t care. Her lips press urgently against Mon’s jaw, bellow her ear, her neck, and she finds herself suckling, intoxicated, trying to find a way to anchor herself to this wonderful reality where she is not cut open by despair. In retribution, Mon clings onto her shoulders, lets out every sound that wants to escape from her throat, and feels, feels, feels, freely after so much time.

“I missed you”, she says back. Sam grunts and takes her pink coat off. “I missed you, Khun Sam”.

“No”. Sam’s eyes burn into her. She grasps her jaw tightly, shaking, breathing raggedly, her free hand still trying to find a way to undress her. “Call me- something else. It’s- It’s me, Mon. It’s me”.

Mon pulls her into another wet kiss and Sam finally takes her out of her dress. She bites her lower lips in a blatant, animalistic display of desire and Mon whimpers.

“Love, love, do that again”.

Sam does, then, and mon grows impatient. She pulls Sam’s shirt as well and she complies quickly, frantic in her need to have everything of Mon she possibly can. So Sam gets rid of her clothes, aided by Mon’s clever hands, and jumps into her immediately, grasping her lower back, squeezing until she hears a sinful sound choked on her shoulder and she’s kissing her again. Sam lets her tongue twirl with Mon’s and it’s nice and hot, pushes and pushes until they fall onto the couch and Sam knows that they won’t make it upstairs, nowhere near her-their bedroom, but who cares? Mon is lying under her, all lovely and ready with her thighs open in the most delicious way and Sam cries again.

“Mon- angel. Let me have you. Let me make everything up for you. Let me have you, please”. Her hands roam through Mon’s body with a greediness Sam knows she would be scolded for. She doesn’t care. Her fingers trace patterns on Mon’s collarbones, her belly, her breasts, and she gasps and squirms brokenly.

“Yes, yes”, Mon answers. Sam’s mouth latch on her nipple. It’s too much, too much and not nearly enough and she moans in pleasure and frustration. “Darling- please”.

Sam would give her anything, absolutely anything at this point. She doesn’t know how she did it, deprive herself from Mon for such long, tortuous time, but she realizes that there is no turning back, there isn’t a single damn thing worth anything more than the sensation of having Mon there, pulsing, dripping on her thousand-dollars’ worth couch. So she dips her head lower and lower until she can smell her directly and it’s a blessing all over again. She licks into Mon’s core and catches the wave of her hips. She dives into undoing her hungry, bewitched, ready to drink Mon –her Mon- up until she falls limp in her arms and she’s about to, but feels a steady tug making her raise her gaze.

Mon stares down at her panting, flushed, open.

“No, please. I want to cum around your fingers”. She tugs her up to her body and Sam needs to close her eyes at the weight of Mon’s words. She’s perfect, perfect, perfect. “Darling, fill me up, I-”

Sam does growl. She would be embarrassed but she’s too busy using two rough indents to finger her love, watching her roll her eyes up, let her jaw fall slack, bask into pure pleasure without restrains.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this, sunshine”. Mon cannot answer. She mewls as Sam curls her fingers knuckle-deep inside of her. “I missed this so much. Missed you, so much, Mon. I love you”.

Mon hisses and Sam pushes another finger. She feels Mon clenching and it’s all wonderful, infinite, feverish.

“Sam- Darling, I’m-”

“Tell me that you love me”.

Mon can barely hold on to any thought. Sam curls her fingers again and she sees white. It’s overwhelming, building and building, but Sam is commanding her and she’s- she’s good. She’ll always be good for Sam, her soulmate, her heart.

“I love you. I love you”. She feels a thumb grazing her clit and she tears up. “Oh, Sam-”

“Who do you belong to?”

It’s a push. It’s daring, and possessive, and it holds so much power that Sam would be scared. But Mon is riding her hand in tandem, lost and delirious, full of raw love and Sam wants to hear it all, to be sure that she’s still hers, hers, hers and no-one else’s.

“Oh- you. I belong- I’m yours, Sam. I love you. Please make me cum. I love you”. And Sam does, because who would deny Mon of such tiny request? She’d give her the world. And she will. She will make up and take her sweet angel everywhere and make her the happiest ever, just like she always deserved. So she draws tight circles in Mon’s clit and she’s cumming between a moan and the next, beautiful, pink, and grateful like only she manages to be.

They kiss and kiss until Mon can breathe normally again. Sam keeps touching her, running her fingers through her thighs, arms, neck, whispering the sweetest of the words, making promises she’s finally sure she can keep.

Mon smiles, giggles, and cries, and then lets Sam squeeze her a bit more, until the light in her eyes changes. Sam watches it all unfold with an alert gaze, drunk in Mon’s presence, trying to dissect every bit of her emotions just to build an entirety of joy for her. She deserves it. Mon deserves so, so much, her winged savior, so she lets her switch positions until she’s lying compliant below her.

Mon purses her lips in the bolt of a thought and then rushes down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. Sam is wet, thoroughly so, and she has to choke a whimper when Mon rolls her lips right into hers, taunting. Sam can only buck up almost as if in instinct, desperate to drown in anything Mon would be willing to give her. She feels a fiery tongue licking inside her mouth, gazing her own, sucking her earlobe, her neck, her collarbones. Sam arches up just enough, and then mon bites and she’s finally moaning openly.

“More of that, sweetie. Wanna hear you”.

And of course she’s speaking in English, her little minx. It makes Sam fall into her spell faster, open her legs winder. She needs it so, so damn much.

“Yes- Just… please”.

Mon scratches her inner thighs, marking. Then, she rolls Sam’s clit with her thumb and it’s just perfect. Sam thrusts in a rough rhythm, but she couldn’t ask for anything else because it’s so good, everything she’s missed, Mon’s clever indents making her lose herself and then everything stops and she’s left painfully high.

Mon’s hand wraps itself around her neck and Sam almost cums right fucking there. She’s looking down at her predatorily, fiercely and with a hint of darkness that would make Sam raise her eyebrows if she wasn’t so hazy in her pleasure. She wants more. She wants Mon to choke her and hurt her just right, just so the cue of their connection stands out proudly in her neck for a while and all she can do is show it for everyone to see. So she grasps Mon’s hand almost desperately, and use her own to add pressure there.

Mon does not hesitate. She dives her fingers into Sam and lets her other hand press on her neck and Sam lets her eyes roll up her head and just gives in, lets everything come, gasps, cries out, and moves just as Mon wants.

“Open your eyes”, Mon says. Sam complies, with every fiber of her shaking willpower. “Did he do this to you?”

Sam needs a few moments. Who? Who could ever-?

The hand in her neck tightens and Sam clenches.

“No”, she manages to say, finally understanding. Mon curls her fingers. “Oh, no, Mon, darling. No one- You don’t understand- I-” She’s gone, gone, gone. All she can sense is Mon. All she could ever sense is Mon. It’s lovely, her little world, dizzy and finally happy. “No-one could ever do this. It’s you.” Mon whimpers and kisses her right there. Sam speaks between kisses, when she’s allowed to breathe, when she sobers up the pleasure, “It’s only you, love, you”.

Mon bites, sucks, tongues. She can’t stop sobbing.

“Mon, Mon, Mon”.

Sam wants to ask for permission. Mon lets her, would let her take a piece of her soul if she could. It doesn’t matter. It’s all hers.

She curls her fingers one more time and Sam is cumming violently, trembling and gasping for air as Mon kisses every inch of skin she can reach. It’s them. It’s finally them and they are entangled once again, as it should have been always. Sam cannot believe her luck. She got Mon twice. She’ll definitely won’t test destiny again. The pain of losing Mon still burns in her chest like a healing scar. She’s afraid of moving. She’s afraid of enjoying herself too much and suddenly waking up alone in the coldness of the mansion, broken and empty.

But Mon is looking down at her with absolute serenity, loving, all vulnerable and hers and Sam kisses her softly. It’s fine. They’ll get through it. They’ll learn each other again. They’ll fight together and win.

“I love you, my moon and stars”, she whispers.

It’s more than that. It’s more than love, more than anything a person can feel. It’s whole and it grows, grows, grows.

But then Mon smiles back, all shiny eyes and blushed cheeks, and Sam sees it reflected, all that beautiful intertwinement of emotions she cannot put a word to. It’s all clear and bright for her and it makes her unbelievably happy.

Mon gives it the only name she knows, too.

“I love you, my darling”.

And it’s enough. They understand.

-

sorry for this one kisses kisses

will work with the prompts you sent very very soon :)

[effymaybe]

monsam  💘

check more of my work on instagram // buy prints here

[effymaybe]

Hey, how do you think Diversity staff reacted once they found out Mon and Sam was together. Since the last thing they heard from Mon was she’s leaving for England. And they thought something was going on with her and Kirk.

Well, most of them were certainly surprised when Mon resigned, except for Yha, who was already very much aware of the… intense relationship between her co-worker and her boss. She was actually sad when she found out that Mon was to leave to England, and honestly quite scared. Without her sunny presence in the office, the mood soured quite prominently, especially in the days Sam actually showed up in to work. The thing is, before Mon, Sam looked terrifying, aggressive, cynical, thoroughly beautiful in a way that only made her more threatening. After Mon, Sam looked mournful, her sharp gaze now dancing around the room with a shadow of emptiness that was too apparent dripping through her ice queen façade. Then, she would switch up, heat up with fury, shout orders here and there, and Yha realized, just at that moment, that her boss loved. The whole thing made her feel overwhelmed, so she did the only thing she could do: share a bit of gossip. There was incredulity at first, but then things started to add up. Mon’s multiple visits to Sam’s office, the way they would just stare each other as if electrified by each other’s presence, their curiously matching chapped lips… and of course, their boss’s sudden change of demeanor. So yeah, the entire Diversity workforce may have prayed and lit up some candles to avoid Mon’s departure because the girl was a sweetie and an actual great worker, but also, come on, a force that kept Sam happy, and a joyful boss meant security of employment. Surely enough, some days later Mon came back to the office blushing up to her ears, suppressing a shy smile while holding hands with an ecstatic Sam. She bowed and greeted everyone still wrapped around Sam’s hold, and the staff broke out in cheers because Mon is back! We are saved! Sam rolled her eyes and smiled briefly before pecking Mon on her check and making her way back to the office, and the staff took it as their cue to start asking a billion questions. A few hours later, when Sam called Mon to her office, nobody dared to say anything, but Yha’s clever stare said enough. Mon flushed again, exasperated, but did run to her boss’s office because she had work to do and… well, she wanted some kisses. Some messages were sent on the staff’s group chat and it was nice and harmless. After all, Lady Boss and Mon made such a nice couple.

When Diversity’s workers received the wedding invitation, then, they all cheered again. A fancy event with delicious food? Mon was truly a blessing.

[effymaybe]

actual scene vs. bts + baby peck （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～

[effymaybe]

can’t write a long prompt today but sam is pecking mon softly on their bed, mon is giggling happily because her wife is tickling her ribs. sam kisses her forehead once and smiles, and then she kisses her cheeks, and her nose, and her pluckered lovely mouth and they both laugh into each other and it’s nice, nice, nice, to be in love and to be loved just back 

[effymaybe]

Omg, if you're still taking prompts, how about Sam and Mon going on the honeymoon or getting a pet or trying to do sports (I have a feeling that none of them is very good at it) or literally just hugging (I'm obsessed after that 1-minute FreenBeck's hug)? Khop khun na kha 🤗

Hey bbs, I’m going for the honeymoon one, but I’ll come back to the rest later. I bended the Thai law a bit for this cause I wanted the surname prompt, too! Kisses, kisses.

-

Sam thinks her wedding was magical, not in a movie-like, princesses and sparkles type of way but in the sense that is has ignited a kind of happiness in her soul that seems to permeate her entire life. Mon thinks it was perfect, everything she has never dared to dream of, lovely and nice, full of the people she loves the most. And she looks at Sam and Sam looks right back at her and it’s like the crush of a wave for them both, the fact that they are married, free, entangled and ready to face a life within each other’ arms. Sam has, of course, insisted that they both spend their one-week-long honeymoon in the most stounding private island money could buy. And Mon has agreed because it’s quite difficult saying no to Sam while being brought to delirium by her bare hands. So they set in a nice, peaceful journey just after the ceremony, Sam driving quietly with a tender smile dancing in her mouth as Mon sings and giggles, thoroughly joyous.

They spend their days gravitating around each other. Sam cooks breakfast and stares at the beach through the window until Mon finally wakes up and wraps her arms just at her waist, pepping kisses all over her back, reminding her once again that she has this, that this is her new truth, that she gets to enjoy Mon every day, for as long as they both want. So Sam turns around and kisses Mon deeply, and sometimes it ends with both feeding each other with the sun tickling their skin and some others with Sam gasping with her legs open, grasping Mon’s hair to keep her in place just where she likes her the most. They talk and dance. Mon pitches some ideas for work casually and Sam takes a mental note to dive into them deeply later. They walk on the beach barefoot, and Sam doesn’t pronounce a single mean word about it, because Mon is wearing a little pink bikini she chose herself so she thinks she has lost all rights to ever complain about anything in life.

They eat nice dinners and drink expensive wine, and a little bit of alcohol has Mon quite handsy. She stares at Sam with hunger, all sharp and blushed, and grasps her by her nape. I can’t believe I’ll have you like this forever, she says clearly, fucking lucky, she murmurs then, and Sam chokes a laugh by biting her lip. Mon frowns and uses her thumb to pull on Sam’s mouth because only I can do that, dear, and Sam raises her eyebrows. When did you get so bold, love?, she questions, but she adores it, and squeezes Mon’s waist only to get her jumping a little. She loves her so, so much. Don’t know, Mon answers, and she lets her lips brush against Sam and breathes, raggedly and painfully alluring, maybe when I became miss Anuntrakul, too. And her words wash on Sam beautifully, strong, irresistible, and yes, Mon is all hers, so she pushes her tongue right into her mouth because she can, and she lets her fingers caress her slick underwear because she can, and she takes her once, twice, three times, drunk in love. And Mon smiles between gasps and returns all favors right away, loving the feeling of her wife coming undone bellow her. She adores Sam so much she wishes she could just- just have her always, always, and now she has her surname blazing like a mark in her very existence and it feels, so, so nice.

So they have fun. Sam caresses Mon’s face once she falls asleep, and she’s sure she has found her soulmate. The tranquility of that thought lulls her to sleep. Mon searches for her warmth even asleep. She has found her soulmate, too.

[effymaybe]

🫦