#Content Warning Stalking

[thisisxli]

Crimson Kalon

.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・

Vocab:

Kalon - (n.) Beauty that is more skin-deep.

Rs: Ejiro Kirishima x Vamp!fem reader

Warnings:

slight stalking, biting,

blood, suggestive themes,

obsessive reader,

reader is kinda pervy,

slight ghosting, reader is

kind of a yandere

Summary: the reader who's a vampire in the quirk world, strangely has an obsession with a red spiky-haired man. Maybe it was in her blood to desire him for claiming the colour red or the way his antics had her heart blooming. What do you do when you take a few sips of his blood? Will it ruin your image and friendship?

Wc: 3.4k

ʚ ɞ

One-shot/drabble.

ʚ ɞ

You didn't know when it started. You didn't know how you ended up following him when school ended. Even when dorms were created, you found yourself drawn to his room. The time everyone was competing what room was best, you savored your sweet time wandering the small space. His room was rather eccentric.

Hagakure had caught you sniffing one of his belongings but that became a sworn secret between you two.

You remember seeing him for the very first time. Red was all you saw and maybe that's just what made you tingle inside, to form some kind of spark. No mortal made you feel this way, not unless you were drinking their blood of course. You swear you're not a bad guy but then again, it doesn't hurt to drink from somebody time to time. That's also what has you drawn, because he was so so nice.

"Heyy- (Y/N), right?"

Usually, nobody goes up to you first which was odd to you when he first spoke. It was like your name rolled off his tongue like a song was being sung and you loved every single part of it. Maybe it was your vampirism that was causing all this.

or maybe just the way his skin glistens when he's sweaty, rock hard abs flexing when he stretches.

You fawned over the boy every chance you got to your friends and honestly, they were kind of sick of it but you didn't care. Sometimes you've wondered

what did his blood taste like? Dark and metallic? Or thick as his ego? Oddly, your thoughts were drifting into... other thoughts. But that can hold another time when you both have the time and equally ready. At least you hoped.

When Aizawa is just lecturing his ass away in class, you can't help but stare at Kirishima across from class, biting your lip. Gosh, was he fine. You would stare at his neck the whole class time all while sinking a fang into your own lip, drawing blood. You were aware that some of your other classmates could see your little expressions but honestly, did you care what they think? That'll just show them how you want Kirishima, and maybe for him to be yours alone. The thought about sinking your fangs into his neck had you rolling your eyes back. To feel the sweet hot relief of his blood on your tongue.

Your stomach nearly jumps every time his vibrant eyes stare into yours, making you fiddle with your hands, wiggling your toes, or just biting your lip.

When you're training, he's just SOO...

You didn't even have the words.

Your fangs were unbreakable as were his body. It was almost like you were made for each other, you think.

One time when you felt bold, you scooped some blood from his finger when he got a paper cut, putting it in your mouth all while purposely trying to seem innocent.

"Sorry, Kiri! Couldn't help myself."

He blushed in return when he averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, it's- it's fine.."

His voice had you in shambles.

Right now, you were both training with each other. You were helping with his durability and endurance. And it just so happened that no one was around. Good for you.

You grunt when you swing a pillar at him, his arms making an 'X' to block from the attack. He was incredibly strong. That was also what you had admired about him and adore. You swing the pillar at him again, accidentally hitting the side of his neck. You gasp and quickly drop the pillar to the side, rushing to his side when he groans in pain and clutch in between his neck and shoulder.

"Kirishima! I'm- shit..! I'm so sorry-"

You hover over him, flailing your arms around. You did NOT mean to do that. Fucking shit, you were an idiot.

You watch him retreat from his hardened form before cracking his neck side to side. "Eh.. I'm fine I guess.. I didn't expect you to go that hard. And it wasn't really expected. I should've seen it coming, am I right?"

You swallow thickly when you see a cut on his cheek and on his neck. You honestly didn't mean to actually hurt him but damn.. Maybe it was worthwhile? "Can.. Can I see your wound?"

Kirishima looked up at you confused for a second before gently padding his neck. "O-oh! Yeah, sure, go right on ahead."

He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. You kneel down close in front of him. Your gaze fixates on his lips before his neck. "Kirishima.." He looks up at you again, a small lop-sided smile on his face. You gently wrap your hands around his head an shoulder, leaning your head down to his neck before you started drinking his blood. Kirishima, who was caught by surprise didn't know how to react. Should he pull you away? Probably. Yes. But it kind of felt nice. He doesn't know why it does but it just does.

He nearly couldn't suppress a whimper when he felt your tongue swirling around the small cut. Gently, he pushed you away from him. You let him do so, staring at him. Reality hit you like a brick. You feel embarrassment and shame grow inside every single one of your insides. Yet, Kirishima was in his own world, staring back at you. Your lips were covered in his blood. Butterflies danced around his lungs.

But before he could even stop you, you run away, wiping the remaining blood on your lips. Watching you run away kind of had him feeling bad. His hand reached out for you but he didn't get up to go chase after you. He'll talk to you tomorrow. Definitely. When everything in his head is sort out.

You lay in bed encased in your thoughts, reminiscing of the past events that just occurred. Gosh, that was fucking embarrassing. Who randomly latches themselves onto a classmate to drink their blood? Where was your filter? Self-control went out of the room.

Embarrassment ate away at your gut and you honestly wanted to bang your head against a metal wall.

The other side of you though, liked it. It was all your vampirism to blame. His blood was thick and savory on your tongue, skin so smooth and hard under your teeth, and the way his blood's metallic scent came seeping into your nose. The taste of his sweat. All of that got you excited. You rub your thighs together, one of your hands trailing up from your pelvis to your neck. You bite your bottom lip. Kirishima had this much of a effect on you which was beyond crazy. The thought of him excited you and you were here for it.

But honestly, your dignity was nearly gone after the embarrassment that occurred today so you had no idea how you were gonna face him the next few days.

The next two school days, you were avoiding him and you made sure you did it at all costs. He was confused and he felt like he personally hit home for you, he wanted to apologize but every time he approached you, you would immediately walk away. He was kind of butt-hurt, his ego busted when he had Tsu ask you what was going on and you said you just didn't want to talk to him.

He obviously wasn't going to give up that easily but jeez. He sighed, crossing his arms and rests his chin on top.

"Everything good?"

He shifts his head to the left, spotting his pink-haired friend. He sighed again, slightly pouting. "Yeah.. But (Y/N) won't talk to me after we trained alone together..

I feel like it's kind of my fault- but I mean, I know it isn't. But I kind of just feel bad, y'know?"

Mina nods in understanding, her hazel irises lingering on Kirishima for a moment. She sighs along with him, pondering for a moment. She wasn't best friends with you but you were both definitely close. She pinches her chins in between her fingers, looking up in the ceiling before looking back at Kirishima again, smirking. "Kirishima! I thought you were smart!"

He flinches in surprise, confusion written on all over his face. "Wha?- what are you talking about?"

"Context clues, idiot! It's so obvious!" She clenches both of her hands into a fist, waiting for Kirishima to get the hint. When two minutes pass, he still didn't get it. He was thinking long and hard. What could it have been?

Mina groans before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "she likes you, dumbass!" Kirishima's cheeks blaze up, matching his hair. "No way! You- you're joking!" Mina shakes her head at him, taking in his reaction.

"I'm not manly enough for her!" He looks away dramatically with closed eyes, one hand in a fist to his heart and the other stretched away towards Mina. "Oh get over it, Dorito Hair."

You, from the distance, hanging out with Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure, watched their whole interaction. You were across the room so you didn't really get to hear them, but seeing her so close to Kirishima had you fuming. "(Y/N).. hey.. Are you okay?" Uraraka looks at you with concern, nervously fiddling with her fingers when a sweat bead dribbles down her temple. "Yeah, you have this deadly scary look on your face, it's not cute!" You hear Hagakure chime in.

You hear the girls bicker about Hagakure's blunt comment but you could honestly care less. You grit your teeth when you see them lean in again, faces closer than ever. You scowl, moving your way past the girls. "(Y/N)! Hey wait!- are you oka-"

"I'm going to the bathroom!" You cut off Uraraka. You didn't mean to boast at her but honestly, seeing Kirishima and Mina's interaction had you beyond ticked off.

"So basically... When me and her were training, I got caught off guard for a little bit when I relaxed. My body wasn't completely hardened so when she striked at me, she gave me a crazy bruise and a few cuts. When she went ahead to check for the minor injuries.... She kinda just.. latched onto me and started drinking my blood."

"WHAAT??!"

Kirishima winces, piping his hand down, suggesting her to lower her volume. "Quiet down, will ya? I don't want anyone else to know this.. I know she's probably embarrassed by this, man.."

Mina shuts her mouth completely but is absolutely bewildered. She knew you had a fat crush on Kirishima but for you to be this crazy about him?!

"She must likes you tons!" Mina triumphantly stuck her thumb up, imaginative steam flaring out of her nostrils. Kirishima's cheeks heat up, scratching the back of his head. "I guess so.. I think I like her too. It was subtle before but that was just because we're doing hero stuff, y'know? But now I'm coming face-to-face with it. I don't know what to do, Mina- help me-" Kirishima whines, bowing his head down at her, clasping his hands in a prayer.

You came back in the room, ears hot as ever. What enraged you even more was when he was still close to her, but close at her boobs! That should be you! You felt embarrassment creeping up inside of you as your heart shrivels. Honestly, you didn't blame either of the two if they liked each other or if they were together. They went to the same middle school together and all. But you can't help but feel jealous; do you even have the right? You watch them talk more and more before seeing them glance back at you which they immediately look away, quickly to resort to whispering in each other's ears. Are you talking about you? Talking shit maybe? Shit, maybe he was talking shit about you, talking about the nasty encounter you guys had at training.

"Hey."

You turn, unknowingly teary-eyed, meeting Bakugou's red eyes. His brows weren't crinkled together and he held an unusual calm expression. "You like shitty-hair, don't you?" Your sullen expression quickly turning into a surprised one, your cheeks turning pink. "Wh-what?"

"I see the way you look at Shitty-hair. It's obvious you like him." When the fuck did Bakugou notice anything about you? When did he start to give a fuck?

"Don't get them wrong," he nods off past you, towards Mina and Kirishima who were still whispering to each other. "Kirishima likes you too. He probably doesn't know it yet, but he does. Whatever one of you idiots did that made you guys stop talking needs to step up. It's annoying having to watch this." Bakugou looks away when he shoves his hands in his pockets, a small scowl on his face. You were surprised. Was he giving you advice or a heads-up? Either way, this was.. a shocker, especially coming from him. A vein irked in his temple, gritting his teeth together. Andd.. There was his wrinkle. "At least say something you damn idiot!"

A week had gone by and before you knew it, it was New Years Eve.

There was a festival that was held out in the middle of Mutsufasu, about everyone in your class attended, including others from the other classes. The night had set in, leaving the stars to shine down above the light of the festival. Lanterns were being lit, booths and concessions were being held, and a lot of people were wearing yukatas and kimonos.

You were wearing a kimono with the color base being black, your haneri, obiage, and obijime being a scarlet red. Your obi was black with light ash brown coloured lines etched across with red detailed flowers adorning at the bottom of your kimono and sleeves. Your hair was up and done nicely with fake red and black flowers above your ear, some small pieces displayed on the other parts of your hair. You walked the streets with Uraraka, Midoriya, Lida, and Tsu, buying food and all sorts of things off the booths. You held a lantern in your left hand, light illuminating faces that passed by you.

Something red in the corner of your eye had you turn your head, meeting a pair of familiar crimson eyes. Your cheeks turned red deeply before quickly turning back to your friends.

Kirishima gazed at you softly, a small lop-sided smile on his face. He wore a deep red haori with a black himo, his hakama also being a pair of black. Honestly if you noticed his traditional clothes when you saw him, you would've thought you two were matching. He feels the back of his head being smacked, looking back at the perpetrator. "Stop ogling and keep moving, shitty hair."

Bakugou scoffs, crossing his arms across his yukata. "Sorry, man," Kirishima awkwardly laughs heartedly, rubbing his nape. They both continue walking before having more of their other friends join in with them; Mina, Denki, and Sero.

In the corner of your eye again, you see the pink and red figure oddly close. Your heart tugs at itself. It almost felt like hands were grabbing at it and stretching its' meaty flesh. You looked at them for a second, seeing him win a stuffed animal, giving it to her. He awkwardly rubs his neck before she jumps on him, hugging him tightly around the neck. It seems that you were wrong for thinking he even felt something for you. The subtle glances and the smiles directed towards you seemed to just be friendly. What part of you could've thought that anyway?

"I'm.. gonna go look around, okay? I'll meet with you guys later," you let your friends know, some of them shooting you a worried look before letting you go off in the crowd. Tears threaten to leave your eyes as you make your way past the crowd, fists clenching in hurt and anger. You shut your eyes, letting tears fall. Hopefully, no one saw. You didn't want to receive any weird or awkward looks from bystanders. You feel someone grab your wrist which you instinctively snatch back, looking back at who grabbed you. It was Bakugou, who had a sour expression on his face. You looked away in shame, rubbing your arms. "What did I tell you, dumbass? You should tell him. Stop bein' so insecure and stand up."

You frown warily, nodding, still avoiding his gaze. When he leaves your vision, you look back up. You notice that people were going into a more open space of the city, signaturing that the fireworks were gonna start. You huff before making your way to find your friends.

You see a kimono's sleeve waving up in the air before realizing it was Hagakure. You walk up to your friends, smiling and laughing on the way to an open field to see the fireworks. It started in fifteen minutes.

You were laughing with your friends, throwing your head back before feeling a warm hand on your shoulder. You wipe the joyful tears in your eyes as you turn your head, surprised when you see the same particular crimson eyes. "Kirishi-"

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

You pause, remorse flickering across your features before turning to your friends which they nod in return. You sigh, standing up to your feet, following him as he leads you. You guys enter a building, which honestly had you nervous because were you even allowed to be in there?

You both stood in the elevator in silence before you guys exit, reaching a stair case. You guys step up before exiting through a door, a chilly breeze hitting your face. You guys were on top of a building.

"I wanted to talk to you.. about..." His breath hitches. You notice.

"About what happened back at training-"

"I'm sorry that I did that! I didn't- it was on impulse, I didn't mean to-"

He grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face him. "(Y/N)," he breathed, looking at you so tenderly. "I don't care.. that you did it. I just.. want things to be normal again." He inches his body closer to yours, his thumbs caressing your shoulders reassuringly. "I want to be close to you again."

His words were like hot fire melting the ice in your heart. Your lips quiver, eyes watering. How could something so small cause something so big and heartfelt for you? Was Kirishima important to you? What did he mean by 'close?' When you don't respond, still staring up into his eyes with teary ones, he continues, "I miss you. I..."

He pauses, his cheeks and ears turning red as time passes. "I want to be with you. You can drink my blood for as much as you want, I just- I don't know.."

"But-" your voice is shaky, you don't even care anymore because tears are pouring from your eyes. "What about Mina? Aren't you with her?" He looks at you confused for a moment before realization dawns on him, a sad expression fading into his face. "No. I'm not with her. She's one of my closest friends, she was just there when I needed somebody to go to... about you."

Blood rushes to your cheeks, Kirishima's hand going up to cup your cheeks, wiping your tear with his calloused thumb. "It's always been you."

"It's.. always been you too, Ki-"

"Eijiro."

You stare at him for a few seconds before nodding, "Eijiro." His name rolls off your tongue so foreignly but it felt so nice. His other hand gently makes his way around your waist, the hand on your cheek moving towards the back of your head. Your breath becomes heavy when you notice how close he was to you. "Eijiro..."

"Can I kiss you?" Kirishima blushes deeply, looking in your eyes with half-lidded ones.

You nod, feeling the radiation from his body. You feel his lips press against yours so gently, it makes you wraps your arms around his neck tightly. Fireworks went off when you both move your lips against each other's, your heart pounding against your chest as loud as the fireworks. This was so intimate for you, to share a kiss with someone you hold dear under the star sky, showered with fireworks.

You both seperate, letting out silent breaths you were holding in. He stared into your eyes so fondly, leaning in again, but not to kiss you. He just holds you there, face against his, lips just barely touching.

You swear you heard a 'I love you' push past his lips.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

A/N: I'm kinda glad how this turned out. Kirishima is one of my favs and deserves all the attention he gets. He can be dense a little bit sometimes but he gives off golden retriever boyfriend energy.

Bakugou was playing a little love matchmaker even though he dislikes love stuff. But he cares about his friends a lot

Writing this was fun and nice, it was kinda cute. I'm glad that its done tho, hope you enjoyed it. <3

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

So uh, you know what DoL is, that game is bat shit but fun if you ignore certain aspects ... Its got some nuts lore and everyday activities, like image Yuu saying something like "oh this place is pretty nice, I haven't been kidnapped or almost kidnapped and nothing too crazy happened!" Extra wtf points if Yuu had TF traits (maybe devine and animal for extra fuckery) like oh they aren't a beastman they just ate a bunch of weird shrooms wore a sick ass choker and prayed for 50+ days (Wolf + Angel TF)

I mean yes, there's some parts I'm glad you can toggle off cause holy fuck. Then again the creator said that it is a trauma simulator and the whole point of the game is that it never gets better but you can cope which is one of my fav tropes in horror. Like fear and hunger in that regard (I think abt these games a lot tbh).

Tagging this as Dark Content just in case

The lore is so fucking intense and the fact there's a potential timeloop/eldritch being trapping everyone there and influencing them is fucking WILD. The whole world is a cage designed for you and it lets you know it.

Anyways. I can imagine that Yuu comes with a lot of trauma that needs to be worked out but they are one hell of a fighter... and I imagine Crewel is the one to break the horrible teacher curse and help them heal cause he's nice. Other students think you're insane for considering him kind. They also wonder why you put up with Crowley but he is an improvement from your previous headmaster.

Students getting their asses whooped in cause Yuu had to always fight for their life and shit.

So much "this is how it should have been" or "I wish I could have met you as a better person and loved you right away but I wouldn't have been able to love you as much as I do now cause you've been by my side"

Yuu panicking over the kids at the orphanage cause they're used to looking out for them. Bonus if maybe Deuce or Ace gets in trouble and Yuu takes the blame prepared for the most heinous punishment but instead just gets some boring homework to do and it kinda breaks them.

They share horrible stories that are relatable in their world and everyone just stops.

Also the transformation things in the game imply that Yuu to an extent is a shapeshifter that changes gradually. Can you imagine if a few months into the shool year Yuu gets Fae ears, maybe some animal like claws and sharp teeth, or even gills and they're like "yeah I can do that" or maybe they even fall in love with one of the non human boys and they start changing to be more like them cause they love them <33

This game ruined me

[evilcatcreature]

The Wrong Universe (OC/Johan Liebert Fic)

I thought I'd do a pinned post for this!

I am writing a fanfiction for Naoki Urasawa's Monster. The plot is something that you'd be able to follow even if you hadn't watched/read Monster.

(this is a fanart by me)

Title: The Wrong Universe

Summary: Michael is a (fairly) normal student, until one day he meets a mysterious stranger called Johan. Michael slowly feels an obsession develop, but doesn't have the social skills to even talk to him. He doesn't realise what world he is wandering into until he finds out who Johan Liebert really is. Can he get over his obsession and save himself?

Content Warnings: Stalking, Murder/Death, Serial Killers, Drugging/Kidnapping, Psychological Themes (morality, philosophy etc.), Sexual Content (but only consensual)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50365696/

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1449486358

(I'm not sure if I'll continue uploading to wattpad unless I can see that it's something people want)

[lgcichika]

in the dark

sometime prior to crystallis' most recent move - @lgcbk ( tw / cw : stalking )

She’s always been the independent sort, always the one to prefer to do things herself than wait around, always the type of person to think of the risks before moving forward. It’s why she didn’t think twice before moving so far from home, and why she put off close friendships during her trainee years; she was fine on her own and could take care of herself. Or so that’s what she likes to think. While things have changed a good deal since then, at her core, Ichika remains the same. The same girl who waves off her members when they inquire about joining her on outings (because after days and hours surrounded by them, she craves some alone time), and the same girl who doesn’t think to invite personal friends along (even though she’s sure Jieun would join her if she could). 

For a girl who thinks so much usually, the past weeks have felt like a blur — a complete haze where she’s sure she’s just moving through the motions — but perhaps that’s another reason she needs space. Bundled up to protect herself from the cold or excessive attention, she lets herself enjoy a self-date at a cafe, a drop by an international bookstore, and a quick peek into a stationary shop. Even as the little bit of winter sunshine filters away, a bit of comfort and happiness seems to pierce the fog. 

It’s why she doesn’t notice it at first, or rather him. She’s so stuck in her own thoughts, she doesn’t even consider the idea that someone might follow her. Her face is mostly obscured by the large, soft scarf tucked into her coat, as well as the cute hat her mother had sent over just for her. But it’s a few blocks away from her dorm that she feels it. Something is not right, and her footsteps slow down for a moment before she starts up again, more quickly than before. She doesn’t want to look behind but she can hear it now, the heavy fall of feet. A man’s stride. She’s starting to feel the fear in her chest, the panic— is it even safe to lead him back towards her dorms? 

M-maybe if there’s a shop nearby by she can safely call a manager. Oh god.

[yan-randomfandom]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[notquitecanon]

Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x hacker!reader

Summary: A kinda prologue to Search History, While you're having your menty b back on base, a little bit from the boys' perspective. Specifically Simon. Alexa, play Mastermind by Taylor Swift.  

Part One Next Part

CW: NSFW MDNI 18+ female pronouns , porn, porn, lots of porn allusion, the boys are all handsy with each other, Simon's lowkey manipulating the situation, again irl this is harassment, stalking warning to be safe? mentions of oral and vaginal sex, really just me being nasty from Simon's point of view

It took a long time to gain access to Simon’s inner circle. Simon Riley had a habit of being intense, all or nothing, especially for those he’s decided to care about. His captain and his sergeants were in that inner circle, and he cared deeply, implicitly, about them. Health, safety, happiness, and something Simon was especially attuned to was keeping them sated. A man of action and acts of service. 

Simon was neither a poet nor a psychologist, so he didn’t spend much time or energy putting definitive terms and conditions on whatever relationship the 141 shared. He cared and he was cared for, it was intimate on all levels, and that’s all that mattered to him. 

A bond forged in bombs, bloodshed, and loyalty above all else.  Four soldiers at the top of their game, literally battle-hardened (double entendre completely intended). He was content with his little circle. 

However, he couldn’t fault the boys for missing something a little softer. Something a little sweeter, something a little more pliant. Hell, Simon wouldn’t mind burying his nose in a neck that didn’t smell like sweat, blood, and gunpowder.  

That’s where you came in. Simon’s sharp eyes didn’t miss anything. 

He saw how Price’s signature little smile rested on you whenever your explanations turned a little rambling, the look of pride in his eyes when you cracked a hard encryption- he’d called in a favor from Laswell to recruit you after all. How the Captain didn’t scold you when your work outfits were outside the civilian regulations (which was often), not that Price minded the view when you’d drop something and bend over to pick it up in your pretty skirts and heels. 

He saw how Gaz would lean over your shoulder, just a hair too close to be friendly, and watch in a little bit of awe as you worked, how the two of you spoke in code (literally) to each other. He would watch Gaz get a little hot in the face with your flirty little quips over comms, voice a little tight as he returned them. How the sergeant would bring you little pastries or coffees on days they were on base, how prided he seemed when your face lit up, and when you’d unexpectedly touch him- grab his hand or bicep with your pretty painted nails? Simon would notice how Kyle would excuse himself to go do something else, sometimes dragging Soap off with him.

And Johnny. He tried not to show it, the Scot was as loyal as they came. A dog, Simon called him often, a mutt when he was being obnoxious. Simon’d noticed Johnny literally sniffing around you, his head following the lingering scent of perfume and shampoo when you passed. He was touchy with you, passing it off as being friendly, hugging you just a bit too tight to feel the squish of your body against his- a kind of softness Simon, Price, and Gaz just couldn’t replicate. It was a sport for him, to get you to blush or stutter. 

And, fucking hell, the banter. Your voice, slightly crackly through their headsets, leading and chiding them through missions. Something about the distance or facelessness of it made you bold and teasing. Soap would egg you on over comms, sending you both down teasing explicit rabbit holes, until Price would remind both of you that the brass had access to these audio files, and you’d get shy and go quiet, but not for long.  Gaz was fairly smooth with it, not often getting out of hand until you clicked off and he’d adjust his pants and collar mid-op. Something about Price’s authority kept you a bit tamer on him, but sometimes you would slip, and the way you got all shy and apologetic, Price’s chest would puff up a bit, beard twitching with a smirk as he’d ’scold’ you. 

Simon’s men wanted you, bad. But none of them were going to be the first to admit it, none of them wanting to be the first to want more. Their loyalty to each other was their greatest value, but it was holding them back this time. But Simon had a plan, all he had to do was plant the seed. 

__

The 141 had holed up in a grungy safehouse to rest and recoup before moving on to the next portion of this assignment. ‘House’ was a bit generous- there was no central heating and it was little more than a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, the living room was basically just the foyer with a pull-out couch that took up the entire floorspace when pulled out.  The mission hadn’t gone to shit, but it was proving tedious, and stretching into a longer commitment than they’d planned for. Price was miffed about the time commitment, but it wasn’t anything new, it happened all the time. 

Waiting for transpo from Nik and information that you were working on. Even Simon felt the sting of disappointment when you’d told them you’d need them to quit calling, that the data Price requested from you was proving to be a challenge that needed undivided attention. They were bored. Price and Gaz had slipped off somewhere so the Captain could work out some of his irritation, which in turn got Soap huffy and touchy. 

Which was why the Scot was sitting, spine curled into Simon’s side, laid across the sofa still in full gear, long legs over the side while Simon simply sat up straight ( "s’too fuckin’ cold f’ this shite", he’d muttered after they’d found the wood for the old fashioned wood stove was both wet and molding, "Body heat it is, fucks sake." ), military-issue tablet using the secure network you and Gaz had set up. Too tired to do much of anything, too mission-wired to truly relax, restless and a little homesick.

Simon wasn’t surprised that it only took two rounds of solitaire before the Scot switched to the browser and started to look through the homepage of a porn website he didn’t recognize. They both knew this strategy, get yourself off a few times and your brain releases enough ‘good’ chemicals that you might be able to get some sleep. Johnny did seem uncharacteristically indecisive, getting quickly squirmy and irritated, as he continuously clicked ’next page’ waiting for something to catch his eyes.

A sniper always sees a good shot when it lines itself up, time to plant the seed. 

"Give it ‘ere." Simon gruffed, plucking the tablet out of Johnny’s hands, only smirking at the coarse language Johnny offered in return, though he didn’t attempt to get the tablet back. Waiting curiously and not so patiently for whatever Simon was going to produce, what a good dog.  The lieutenant took a couple minutes to find the right seed to plant, using key phrases that produced the results he was looking for. 

He let Soap peruse his yieldings. The actresses had some things in common, familiar hair and eye colors, familiar because they shared them with you. And the actors doing such filthy things to them? Well, that was the seed (double entendre not intended) Simon was planting, the bone he was throwing to Johnny, all the actors were Scottish.  The sniper knew his shot landed when Soap muttered under his breath, taking the tablet back, hips shifting a bit subconsciously as he scrolled, watching the thumbnails give little snippet previews, "Steamin’ Jesus, Lt…" 

"Seen you sniffin’ around our analyst. Pretty bird." Simon shrugged but his eyes were just as fixed on all the thumbnails, girls that looked vaguely like you in all sorts of positions getting rammed on Johnny’s- sorry, the actor’s cock. He saw the look of (Catholic) guilt on the sergeant’s face, swirling with lust and a pretty flush under his stubble, so Simon swooped in with another seed, motioning to a thumbnail where an actress with the same hair as you was moaning, "Bet our bird'd look better, bet she’d sound better." 

The guilt was gone, the seed planted and flourishing in the Scot’s brain, Johnny’s lips growing into a wicked grin as he settled on a video, not bothering with headphones or squirreling away in the bathroom.  One video turned to three, the two men taking turns chiding and teasing the other, and when his sergeant finally burst, it was your name he called out. 

Yes, his plan was going to work beautifully. 

___

For a quick two-minute search with the sole purpose of quickly getting Soap off, Simon hadn’t been displeased with his results. Neither had Johnny if the spring in his step and uptick in screen time was any indication. The actresses shared features with you, but he was positive there was a closer match out there. And since he couldn’t exactly ask you, their lass in the chair as Soap called you, he turned to their other tech guru and the next part of his plan. Kyle. 

He was a bit more straight-laced than either Simon or Johnny, he’d be harder to convince. Simon didn’t know if he had it in him to debate the morality of purposely seeking out a porn star that was as close as physically possible to you… Or how that might affect the relationship amongst the 141… Ghost wasn’t known for being the moral backbone of the task force, and this wasn’t an issue that could exactly be bullied to be won.  

So, when first met with some resistance even if Garrick’s face was flushed and he was shifting in his seat, ("Simon, that’s… I don’t know what but it’s not right. What if she finds out-") he delegated some orders to Johnny. 

Simon didn’t know what the Sergeants got up to- that’s a lie, he had a pretty good idea, and he expected a repeat performance later- but when they came back, Kyle’s eyes were still a little glazed and his shoes were on the wrong feet. 

"Well?" Simon raised an eyebrow looking up from the rifle he was meticulously cleaning. Johnny was smirking smugly, belt still undone, nudging the other sergeant to remind him to answer their lieutenant. Gaz was nodding wordlessly for a moment, running a hand over his hair, slumping back in front of his military-issue computer, and opening a private browser. 

"Yeah… Yeah, mate, I’m on it." Kyle was practically still panting from whatever Johnny had done to/for him. Simon smirked, going back to his rifle, until after a moment when Kyle’s voice was more level, he added his requirement, "If I find her-" 

He paused, cheeks heating a bit as he reworded himself a bit, "A look-a-like, I mean, I get to taste her first." 

Simon could work with that. 2 down, 1 to go. 

____

Lastly, John Price. Saved him for last for a reason, but he was also the easiest. Simon waited until the assignment was on the up and up again. Summit fever to push through and go home had its claws in all of them. He knew it was a good time because, after the last firefight and subsequent march through the woods to a safe zone, all the boys were too tired to fool with each other... much. Price was sitting against a tree, that ridiculous hat of his resting on his propped-up knee, face illuminated by his cigar and the light of his phone.

Wordlessly, Simon crouched beside the captain and held his hand out expectantly for the phone. Price blew his smoke with a quirked brow but was curious to what the sniper had in mind, placing the device in the waiting gloved hand. 

"What’re you up to, Simon?"  Price inquired suspiciously, lowering his eyes to the light of the screen as it was handed back to him. His blue eyes, older looking than the captain really was, widened for a second before darkening in the low light of the forest, "So this is what the Sergeants’ve been on about, uncanny…" 

Price watched the very short prelude, a woman who looked so much like you, wearing something a little racier than you’d wear to the office but as blood rushed elsewhere, Price found the realism didn’t matter much when if he squinted… it was you stripping off a cardigan and letting some sort of authority figure pop the buttons of your blouse before shoving you under a desk with your pretty painted lips wrapping around his- sorry, the actor’s throbbing cock… 

Seeing the way John’s expression shifted, Simon smirked under his mask, raising back to his full height and returning to where he’d stashed his gear. His plan was almost complete, they were in the final stretch.

___

Simon was watching over Johnny’s shoulder, his hips occasionally rutting through his clothes into the scot’s back, a video that the sniper had chosen. Soap thought it was really funny that it happened to be from your doppelganger's Halloween playlist, but now was just as entranced watching the tall domineering figure clad in all black and mask absolutely ruin you her. The bed was a perk of finally making it to an actual base, with officer’s barracks, waiting for the official expo back to you home.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groaned, biting Johnny’s shoulder through his mask and the sergeant’s t-shirt, as gloved hands twisted into hair just like yours. It was hard not to insert himself into the fantasy. A knock on the door made him growl, pulling him away from the delicious video and friction that Soap’s weight against him was providing. With more force than really necessary, Simon whipped the door open, only relaxing a little bit when Price was standing there with Gaz, both of them with their strategizing faces on. So, he wasn’t the only one making plans lately.

“See the new video that got posted?” Gaz questioned, looking down to unlock his tablet undoubtedly sharing it over to Johnny’s laptop still playing on Ghost’s bed. Both Lieutenant and Sergeant shook their head no. Johnny clicked on the share notification, releasing a breath that puffed his cheeks and raised his eyebrows as he read the title alone, the video still loading in the base’s less than ideal wifi (the 141’s latest habit undoubtedly eating up most of the bandwidth). 

It was your doppelganger’s stage name accompanied by the words Barrack’s Bunny Gets Gang Banged! 

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Simon repeated, words almost snarling his jeans chafing him as his cock twitched in his still buttoned jeans. 

“We’re having a dinner at mine.” John decided cooly, seemingly unrelated, leaning in the doorframe. His demeanor was its usual casual confidence, but his eyes were dark with the kind of want that spelled disaster for anything that stood between him and his goal. The seeds Simon had planted were growing like invasive weeds, wild and quick, “She’s invited.” 

“How’re we playin’ this?” Simon questioned relinquishing the reins to his captain, he was just as much of a soldier as the rest of them, he took orders well, watching as Gaz joined Johnny at the foot of the bed, both Sergeants watching the video together, hands already starting to wander, gear being unbuckled and unsnapped. Price smirked at the sight, adjusting himself through his camo cargos. 

“Cooly. Don’t wanna spook th’ sweet thing.” He smiled, mostly to himself making himself comfortable on the tiny futon that had been cramped in Simon’s room as an ‘officer’s luxury’. The captain dwarfed it, and patted the limited space beside him for his lieutenant to join him, “We’ll have ‘er eating out of our hands. And then we’ll have her.”

Price said this with the same easy decisiveness as he’d have busting a terrorist cell, but the curl of his lip, how his legs spread to accommodate the growing erection in pants noted the difference for Simon, his captain nodding towards the Sergeant’s watching the video, their breaths already getting heavy. Kyle’s hands fisting the bed's blankets like he might slip away and Johnny’s hips were already rocking a bit. Price’s smirk grew, eyes flicking to Simon before looking back forward, “You’ve been busy, Simon. Never miss anything, do you?” 

It was a mix of praise and teasing that, from his Captain, made Simon’s affirmative grunt a bit lower, something twisting in his gut, like a pet that wanted to be stroked more. Price chuckled deeply, nodding, “Bet that thick head’a yours hasn’t considered why you noticed alluv our infatuations with our little analyst, ‘ave you?” 

Simon didn’t respond, watching how Johnny’s eyes lit up much in the same way they did when he was presented a puzzle (bomb) that caught his interest, how he moved Kyle’s hands aside and rewinded the video, once, twice, three times at something your lookalike did that scratched his brain just right. Mutt, Simon thought, waiting for Price to continue, knowing that the captain couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit. He’d expected as much, maybe a vulgar comment or two. He was not expecting a truth bomb that turned him both introspective and horny. 

“Only reason you noticed how much we liked ‘er, cause you’re always watching her. You watch her just as much as y'watch any of us, wonder what that might mean?” Price shrugged, one hand working at his belt buckle before motioning for Gaz to turn the volume. The Captain actually laughed at the look in Simon’s eyes that most would miss before nodding back to the video and the Sergeants, “Now, watch the show."

Fucking hell. 

__

Maybe it was that little bite of introspection or the flight home where they fleshed out every last detail of their plan to get you, the real you. (“Gaz and Johnny’ll do the leg work, play up the charm, and Ghost and I’ll work the opposite angle, strong and silent.”). Maybe it was how eagerly excited Soap was or how Ghost spent his extra time scrolling through your Instagram. Maybe it was the two brief interactions with you upon returning to base- how pretty your eyes were looking up at him through your lashes, how good you smelled, the movement of your skirt as Johnny spun you around, how you got jittery under his slightest touch in the briefing room… 

By the time he found himself on Price’s couch, he was impatient. Knee bouncing, checking his watch, making Gaz track your location. When you’d been sitting out in your car for more than fifteen minutes, he all but growled, snapping at Soap, “Go get ‘er.” 

And when Soap guided you inside, pulling one of those bright smiles out of you with his own jokes, and Gaz was helping you out of your coat like unwrapping a present, your cheeks already flushed all pretty from the Sergeants’ tag team flirting routine… He didn’t think he could wait for Price to put the steaks on the grill, he needed something to sink his teeth into, sooner rather than later. He was sure if he bit the curve of your neck, it’d be a lot like biting into a ripe peach… supple and sweet. Just like you. 

Oh, his plan had worked, the seeds were planted and growing and overtaking every other thought in his mind other than making sure him and his boys were sated at dinner tonight, and you were on the menu. 

____

To quote Sir Mix-A-Lot, "Little Does she know I'm a nasty DAWG."

Y’all are getting this because my writing app deleted what I had done on Search History pt 2. Reminder- the reader is loosely based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. The physical description is pretty vague, but lots of skirts and heels and makeup are mentioned, and I might have gotten carried away and implied

Once again: thanks to any and all tags and comments, i collect them and they will be buried in my pyramid when I die. seriously, they inspire me to keep going and I screen shot them to show to my friends :))))

Also so sorry if you got tagged twice im bad at taglists!!

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[karinasbaby]

BREATHE ME IN. ✱ MDNI ❕

synopsis. The ancient bloodline of serpent hybrids was hidden, closed off. Unknown, a mere unconfirmed sighting of them is enough to ring alarms of danger. But here you were, claimed and possessed by a snake that held a voice as smooth as honey and a touch as light as feather— what would happen when your curiosity over his kind gets the best of you and you want to unleash the side of him that was written down in history?

pairing. snake!jake x fem!reader (19+)❕warnings. PURE FLITH, like genuinely disgusting nasty questionable smut. DARK CONTENT, jake is obv a snake, fangs, subspace, blood drinking, mentions of stalking + kidnapping, he has magical venom like an aphrodisiac, venom feeding, unprotected sex, creampies, feeding rituals, supernatural bond formation, belly bulge, tongue sucking + throat fucking, knotting bcs he has a knot, body worship, womb + cervix worship & fucking, Jake has stalkerish tendencies, he bites u multiple times, oviposition like full on eggs cuz hes a reptile, like he lays eggs in u fyi, insane breeding kink like genuinely, soft moments but like just twice in the span of 16k words. word count. 16.7k

a,note. this is by far my nastiest fic i’ve ever written. half of me gen doesn’t want to post this here, it’s my first time ever writing + posting something like this. please read the warnings and minors do not interact. this fic contains dark content and some creepy stuff people might be uncomfortable with, read at your own risk & have a nice day ! + proofread at 9 am with zero hours of sleep (as usual)

The sound of pages turning reverberated through the walls.

You sat on the soft mattress, back pressing against the headboard while a pile of books accompanied your bedside table, fingers flicking from page to page.

A simple warm light dimmed the room, your shared bedroom that almost felt alive, your surroundings felt like they pulsed sometimes. The furniture feeling cold to the touch before turning warmer, this was yours and his sacred place, his nest.

It was where you were most comfortable with being, and he was most satisfied with you being. Engulfed in his warmth, in his pulse that synced with his heartbeat so he connected to you at all times.

The paper in front of you contained drawings, sketches, definitions, explanations. The first few that you skipped revolved around mermaids, wolf hybrids, panther hybrids— till you finally reached the chapter you wanted.

Snake hybrids. The offspring of humans, serpents and vipers.

“Snake hybrids have special characteristics, most of them carry split eyes that dilate at the sighting of a prey. Some have large tongues, dry and barbed. Extending a few inches past what’s considered normal depending on the hybrid bloodline—“

You flipped the page.

“A rare species of serpent crossbreds may be born with multiple different appendages, their tails—“

You flipped another page.

Vision skimming past the words written carefully onto each part, the different anatomies of snakes, their hybrid form and their viper form— you were too indulged in the book to notice the passing glimmer of scales.

Obsidian with a jade iridescence, thick and rough.

Jake slithered towards you quietly, silencing his hissing and the scratch of his scales as he made his way through his nest. Emerald slit eyes that locked in on you. His lover, his mate, his prey.

And before you could turn your wrist to turn the page— you felt it.

The warm, large brushing of his scurry tail. His scales providing a soothing chill before the warmth of his venom pulsed through it. “Entertaining yourself with books about me when I’m right here?” His tone was smooth, deep and hypnotising.

“I was just curious..” you closed the book, the sound of the cover shutting bringing a daunting smile to his sharp features, his eyes raked over you, slits tightening when he tilted his head.

“Hm? About what, love?” His tail circled your ankle before trailing upper, sneaking between the warmth of your inner thighs when you squirmed before wrapping around your waist, fully coiling himself around you as he inched his face closer.

You breathed out shakily, “about your kind..” “what about my kind?” His heartbeat pulsed around the walls in the nest and around you. Tail tensing the slightest bit making you feel the drumming beat that coursed through your viper’s veins.

His question stopped you. A flush warming around your neck at the embarrassment of admitting that you wanted to know about snakes mating. Serpents bonding. Vipers connecting and devoting themselves fully.

Because it’s true— you are curious. So curious as to why Jake has allowed you into his nest, has made you feel the shimmery scales of his tail yet still hasn’t fully claimed you.

The amount of stories you’ve heard of other humans being claimed by their serpent hybrids, the sheer force of their connection, the weight of the love they shared, the way they became biologically altered to accept their mate.. made you feel hollow.

Jake didn’t do any of that with you. Sure, he might’ve told you about his previous mate experiences. You might’ve gained knowledge about a thing or two of a sacred ritual passed down from fanged bloodlines, but you didn’t experience.

You wanted to feel jake connect to you as far as his reptile body allowed him to. You wanted to feel him devote himself completely to you, to mark you, to scent you, to bond to you for life and claim you.

You yearned to be claimed by him.

And Jake could already see the longing in your eyes, he felt it every time your fingers touched his scales. Each time you stared at his long tongue that flicked past his plump lips, he knew. And he wanted to claim you as badly as you wanted him, but he was still scared of hurting you.

Two different kinds, two different species. He had venom coursing through his veins next to his cold blood while yours pumped warmly, he had fangs that ached when he took too long to release while your teeth were half the size of his, even though Jake wanted to claim you— god, he wanted to worship you. There was still an intrusive thought that gnawed his mind that you’ll hurt. That he’ll break you, that you’re not ready for him.

“I could show you what you want to know, satisfy your curiosity..” he trailed off, bringing his clawed finger to trace down your jaw making you nuzzle against his touch. “But I might hurt you.” Jake whispered admittedly, the raise of your eyebrows and the surprise in your eyes almost making him regret telling you.

You wrapped your hand around his, warm. He could feel the unnoticeable tremor in your digits when you laced them through his. Squeezing once. “You’ll never hurt me, Jake.” Reassuring him, you looked straight at him. Allowing him to see the confidence in your gaze. “I know you never will.”

The serpent sighed, inching closer to push his forehead against yours while his tail tightened around your frame. “I’m still worried, but I do want to try.” Lips brushing around yours before he pulled away to let you see him, past his softness, past his worries, past everything.

To see his slit pupils dilate, to see the peek of his fangs that dripped with his nectar-like honey, to fully remind you just what you were asking of him.

God that thought alone made you crave him more.

“I will show you everything.” He purred, “give you anything you want to make you know me. Get your body used to me, to taste me.”

And Jake always kept his promises.

It starts the next day.

You’re in the comfort of his nest, tip of his tail stroking your thigh lazily, he was hovering above your laying frame, close. So close you could feel the swift lick of his tongue whenever it flicked out.

“We have a feeding ritual.” He hisses, voice barely above a whisper as you nod at his words. Concentration fully locked on him, giving him all your attention when he finally gave in to preparing you for him.

He’s inches away from your face, soft breaths fanning your skin as jake continues, “it’s intimate, I will mark your inside with my tongue, and feed you my venom.” You gulped.

Not because you were scared, maybe a small part of you was nervous but you knew about something like this before— a few fleeting articles that were titled with “venom feeding” and if anything, you were anticipating this.

Yet your eyebrows still furrowed, “my inside?” He nodded, “your throat. I’ll mark it with my tongue, claim it as my own.”

“Now let me show you, sweet thing.” And you nodded, he flicked his muscle out slowly this time. The tip passing his lips as his split tongue came into view. Both endings twitching independently as more came out.

His venom infused saliva shined in front of you. The sight of his abnormally long tongue made your mouth water. You suddenly felt a heat rush down your body, settling into your core when Jake showed you just how ready his tongue was to claim you.

Jake smirked at your bewildered expression, the dazed look in your eyes that followed his every move when he retracted his tongue back. “Are you ready?” Without even replying back to another word, your mouth opened for him.

Your innocent obedience making his emerald gaze dilate, your own tongue— sweet and small in comparison to his, lolling out just to show him how ready and prepared you were.

He breathed deeply through his nose, pulling you closer before he hovered his face above yours. And spat.

You gasped at the sight of the wet glob that glistened with his venom. It almost appeared to pulse in your eyes. As if his poison was just as impatient as you were to ruin you.

And when the long string finally landed on your awaiting tongue, you moaned at the flavour. So thick, so warm and sweet. An addictive tingle spreading around your mouth when the venom travelled along your tastebuds.

Your first taste of his nectarine venom, the one he prepared for you, to feed you only.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. A familiar heat awakening in his body when you closed your mouth, humming pleasantly at his venom that your body accepted. He kept trying to focus, reminding himself that something could still go wrong, you could reject his venom, your body could react negatively to it— but you were sloshing it around your mouth like you were tasting your favourite honey.

And Jake knew now that your body didn’t just accept him, it liked him. Enjoyed his taste, the tinge of his claim on your tongue.

“Swallow, sweetheart.” His clawed hands, rough looking but oh so gentle when cradling your face made you have no choice but to keep your eyes locked on his when you swallowed.

Where he stared at your throat, the small gulp of him going down your throat and coating it down on the way— to settle into your stomach, where your body will slowly break it down and he will become a part of you.

That thought alone, of being so close to you that you carry him made him almost lose his mind.

“You took it all so well, angel girl.” You closed your eyes when he caressed your neck, the base of his thumb pressing against your pulse point that sang for him. “You’re ready. Your body accepted me, it’s only fair that I feed it well now.”

And that’s when his tail circled your hips, scales wrapping around you protectively while his index finger tapped your cheek. “Open up again for me.” His demanding tone made you shudder in his hold before you let your mouth fall open again, jaw going slack while jake admired the new nest his tongue will find comfort in.

Your throat tightened around nothing, so wet and warm he couldn’t hold himself back from pushing his tongue out and slipping it inside of you.

His split tips slithered along your tongue. Barbed, wet and divided. You drooled uncontrollably around his muscle when he sank in further, brushing against the back of your throat when you gagged around him, hands gripping at his arms desperately as Jake tried his best to open you up more.

To accept more of him, more of his aching tongue that was about to burst from the amount of venom he held for you, more of his tongue that sent electrifying pulses down his body just from the taste of you.

The taste of your cavern all wrapped around him, trying her best to take more of him in but it felt like he was endless.

“J-Jake..” you mumbled, jaw flexing as it almost began to hurt from the flexion, but Jake was obsessed.

His hair ruffled in all directions, a fusion of your saliva with mixed his dripping down his chin while he kept his eyes closed for a few seconds. Like he was trying to memorise your taste, the feeling of your throat tightening around his tongue. The hot and dripping embrace of your body around his.

“Almost there.” And once he spoke those words— you felt it.

The release. The warm, continuous waves that pumped down your throat. Pure venom.

Poison that swirled straight from his pulsing glands from under his jaw that was altered— it wasn’t lethal, wasn’t dangerous, his body had specifically crafted this venom for a mate.

With the purpose of claiming, of marking, of scenting, of breeding.

It was thicker than the first taste he gave you. Sweeter than the first dribble you felt on your tongue. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when the steady pulses streamed down, you felt the heat radiating off of what you were swallowing, the way it marked its way down your throat all the way to your stomach to tuck itself inside of you. Where it pulsed.

The feeling of being owned from your mouth— your tongue and your throat like this was making a floating sensation swirl around your head. You couldn’t tell if this was from his venom or from the pleasure that you were feeling from having him this close, this connected to you.

But it didn’t matter, because everything felt good.

The forked tips of his tongue stroked down your throat, caressing every warm muscle, every corner and crevice they could reach while your serpent’s venom slipped inside, where you couldn’t help but involuntarily swallow around his tongue.

Jake almost lost it.

You were taking him. A sacred, bonding part of him that he’s never used on anyone like this, he’s never marked anyone like this. Yet here you were, with his barbed tongue so deep down your throat, drool that infused with your spilling tears drizzling down your neck while you sucked him more.

Like you weren’t aware of doing it, like it was your own body’s doing.

And jake continued feeding you. Who else would he feed if not his mate that was taking him in so sweetly? Pretty tight little throat pulsing around him when you gagged before sucking him in more, your muscles trying their best to take him in, to drag him in deeper and to have him continue.

Because Jake knew before you, that this wasn’t just a feeding. This was the start of an addiction.

He didn’t just feed your body his venom to claim you, he did it so your body knows that it’s owned. Knows that it has a viper that will protect it, nourish it, feed it.

And what’s a better way than making you know this by making you addicted to him? By making you crave him. Your throat that he just marked and claimed to need him, his venom becoming the only salvation to your thirst that he awakened. Because you’re his mate.

You’re his other half, you’re his.

It was past midnight when you woke up.

Sweaty, icy cold. Breathing heavily when your entire body tingled, an uncomfortable itch— an uncomfortable burn. A scratch that bled in your throat.

The feeling wasn’t new, you knew you were thirsty, the ache and dryness in your mouth almost made it feel like you were scratching it from the inside when you moved your tongue.

With bleary eyes you reached blindly towards the bedside table, where jake always brought a glass of water for you. Ignoring the shift of scales around your waist when you moved, fingers wrapping around the cooling cup before bringing it up to you.

And swallowing one sip, second sip.

Until you finished the whole glass without even meaning to, but your eyebrows furrowed.

Sleepy confusion clouding your senses when the ache didn’t dull, it continued. It felt like you didn’t even try, the water effectiveless.

Your breathing quickened when the sensation became entirely suffocating. Was the water too little? Was there something wrong with your mouth? You felt yourself almost on the verge of hyperventilating.

Almost, because the tail around you tightened before jake spoke right against your neck.

“Precious?” Voice still laced with sleep, tail unwrapping slightly as you turned around to face him. He could see the slumber slowly fading off your face along with the dampening along your temples. “Is something wrong?”

“My throat..” you sounded hoarse, wincing slightly at the discomfort that came along with moving your mouth, “it feels so dry.. and I just drank water, I think I need more.” You slung your legs down the side of the bed right when his clawed hand held your nightdress.

And then the serpent realised something.

“Baby.. it’s not the water.” Jake coaxed you back into the bed, “what?” You whispered now, the itch intensifying the longer you spent in bed, the longer your mouth stayed dry.

“It’s not the water, you can even test it for yourself.” He quickly reached back and gave you his glass from his side, the liquid sloshing as you brought it to your lips and gulped it in the blink of an eye. Still dry.

Your hand wrapped around your throat in irritation, “then what is it?” “It’s me.”

The serpent sat up on the bed, towering frame hovering above yours as his tail slithered to rest against your hips, “your throat isn't thirsty for water, it’s thirsty for me.” You gulped.

His clawed index ran along your jawline, “you had a taste of my venom, and that’s what your body wants now. It wants me, it knows me. Recognises me as your mate.”

His words, his tone, his slit pupils, his sharp claw— everything felt so territorial. Completely consuming, making you melt against the mattress as he pressed his brawny body to yours. “Your body knows I’m the one that’s supposed to feed it.”

Focused eyes tilted down to where you swallowed nervously, his hand instinctively wrapping around your feverish skin. “So let me feed you.” Jake felt the urge to feed you long before either of you decided to go to sleep, it hasn’t even been half a day since you first tasted him, but he knew you’d crave him again in a few hours.

He still wanted to test it.

To test your body, your senses. To see if you could depend on him, if your body could want him to function. To be hungry for him and his taste. To yearn for him.

Not that he wanted to ever starve you, to deprive you of the one thing his body produced for you. It was quite the opposite. He wanted the bond between you to strengthen, to grow, to make both of you dependent on each other.

He doesn’t waste another minute, don’t want to make either of you suffer because the ache in his fangs is becoming too much.

“Open up.” He demands, fingers gently squeezing your neck when your mouth fell open for him and he sighed. It fuelled him up, awakened an urge inside of him. Whenever your jaw stretched for him, he felt an electrifying excitement bloom in his chest.

A thirst that burned his throat. And just like that he slipped his tongue back inside of your mouth, split ends separating when they reached their home. Slithering in further and further while you both moaned at the feeling.

You gasped at the first drip of venom, so rich, so sweet. Your hands mindlessly reaching to his wrist while he moved to hold yours, interlacing your fingers as he sank deeper.

Going past the back of your throat, relishing in the feeling of you tightening around him before relaxing in acceptance, in recognition before your muscles began to swallow.

He groaned in pleasure when you hummed around his tongue, milking the venom that spilled inside of you for the second time because it was so reliving.

The moment you tasted him again, everything disappeared. The itch, the scratch and discomfort— gone.

Jake was right, it isn’t a thirst for water. It’s for him. The same venom he fed you, the same venom that warmed your insides and infused to your blood in your veins. Accepting him and desiring him.

It felt so intense, so overpowering to have him wrap his cool tail around you, lengthy tongue that fucked your throat shoved in so deep while he still held your hand gently, still kept his other right above your pulse points.

Because that’s where he was now. That’s where his venom pulsed. Right inside of you.

He fed you, nourishing your body and satisfying your thirst as you emptied his glands, falling further into a state of complete euphoria and bliss at being catered for. Limbs feeling heavier with each passing second when you whimpered around his mouth that pulsed more venom down your throat.

“Let go, sweetheart.” Jake whispered, his expression devoted as he memorised the way you looked under him, full of him. “You did amazing for me.. your body responded to me, wanted me. Let go now, little thing. Let me take care of you.” And you were slipping more.

Words enthralling, touch entrancing, tongue feeding. You were completely and utterly bonded.

“Let me fill you up till you sleep again.”

Jake’s scales pulsed around you, once, twice. Each one syncing with the rhythm of his heartbeat that he wrapped around you.

The sleep slipped out of your eyes when you fully registered the familiar warmth, slowly opening your lids to greet his slit pupils that admired you.

“Good morning, little nest.” His accent was more accentuated when his tone was groggy, the slumber still twinkling in his words when he sleepily smiled at you.

“Morning, handsome.” And your big, scary, serpent boyfriend hid his face in the crook of your neck, a specific throb crossing through his tail and your body when his heart fluttered.

He kissed your collarbone while you hummed sleepily, “I wasn’t too rough yesterday, was I?” Your fingers stroked his nape, shaking your head before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Not at all.”

Jake breathed out a sigh of relief as the weight on his chest was lifted off, the nagging thoughts of hurting you, injuring you or worse— scaring you. All floating away gently while he cradled you closer to him, flicking his tongue out to taste the air that carried your sweetness and your scent.

“You should stay in bed today, love.” He spoke gently, tip of his tail stroking your lower back with his velvety scales. “Let me take care of you today.” “Don’t you always do that, though?” He smirked.

“You’re my mate now. I am bonding to you, I’m the only one who should take care of you.”

Jake’s tone was low, his passion, devotion and protection blazing in each syllable. He was a hybrid after all, human to some extent but his soul was a serpent. Protective, possessive, fierce, demanding.

His mate came first, bond second and pride third. The bloodline has been sacred for centuries, rare and unknown. Some believed that it was that way intentionally. The vipers always hissed quietly, presence cloaked with their fanged bared out.

And even if the lions, the panthers, the wolves walked around freely, their bloodlines rare but loud, serpents were always silent.

That’s what set them apart, that’s what makes them dangerous.

They don’t seek, their mating ritual is vastly different from others. They choose and then they claim, and then they disappear.

Hiss along the shadows, hide behind corners where no one can find them. Because that’s how it’s always been like. That’s what makes Jake’s species unlike any other one.

That’s why your friends freaked out when you first confessed that you were seeing someone— a hybrid, a snake.

Because they declare their mates. They capture and they slither back to the dark.

That’s what happened to you an entire year ago.

You didn’t know that Jake’s attention was on you, that there was a certain pull, a tug he felt whenever he detected your scent. He chose you before you even knew him.

And when the shadows hissed darker at night in your room, when your skin became addicted to the cool of scales on it, when all the alarm signs were going off in your friends’ and families heads that it’s happening right in front of their eyes— you disappeared.

You didn’t fade, you didn’t get to say a goodbye, you slept at night and woke up in his nest the next morning.

That’s how it’s been for the past year, this is your home, where you enjoy your time and flourish in your bubble around him. He’s taken you far away, not a place you recognise, the language you still learn till this day but there are no prying eyes on you.

There are no more hands reaching to you to pull you away— just scales.

And you love it, you’ve grown to obsess over it with time.

“Then take care of me, always.” You don’t have to tell jake twice.

He’s nuzzling his face into your neck, breathing in your love deeply before lifting his head and tapping your cheek, “open.” His pupils dilate alongside yours automatically, “let me feed you now before you get hungry again.” And you do, you let him.

Pretty plump lips, still swollen from yesterday’s feeding falling open as he sighs in pride. He can spot the fading stickiness of his venom on the back of your throat, it’s almost time then.

Jake balances himself on his arms, face just a few inches apart from yours before he opens his own mouth, tongue falling out with multiple strings of saliva that pulsed with his poison extending down the length of his muscle, so long, so lethal yet it made its way to your mouth carefully.

The split ends softly brushing your lips when he released. Steady, long and thick pulses of his warm venom dripping right from his tongue and into your mouth, where you hummed in pleasure, in delight. At the feeling of relief cascading down your body in waves the more he breathed into you.

“Take it all, love.” He whispered, his tongue now moving just to circle around yours, still pulsing and still giving. While you only took, swallowing each and every drop. “Keep yourself full, always be full of me.” Jake lowered himself, tongue slipping right against yours before his divided tips touched the entrance of your throat again— just to stroke.

His eyes were half lidded when he spoke “feeling better now, sweetheart?” And you nodded, dazed and full. The heat of his venom enveloping you, wrapping around you completely and gently loving you. “Good girl.” Then jake retracted his muscle, placing a quick kiss to your open mouth before he chased your tongue.

Both of you instinctively moaning in pleasure when his forked tongue dragged against yours, eyes closing when your candied, gentle, human flavour bursted in his mouth while he kissed and nipped your tongue.

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, a heat pooling down towards your core, a craving awakening making your hips twitch under him, right when jake began to suck on your tongue.

“Fuck.. baby..” he took more, mouth chasing after your sensitive tongue while you whimpered under him, still drunk on his venom and now he was sucking your tongue like it was the source, “tastes so sweet.. so addictive.” His lips wrapped more tightly, he sucked harshly, relishing in the vibrations that trailed down his throat from your mouth.

Jake’s hand gripped your hip, to stop you from rutting into him, and his fingertips almost burned from the heat you were radiating, so needy, so eager, so his.

Then with a final suck to the tip of your tongue, he trailed his kisses lower. Open mouthed with his barbed skin stroking you to mark and to claim. “I’ve got you.. I’ve got your throat.” He whispered, his lips reaching your lower stomach as he nipped your hip bone, just enough to graze it with his peeking fang. “And I’ve got you here.” Jake spoke right when his hand cupped your mound.

You gasped, a shudder tensing through your body at the slight feeling of relief, of having him touch you right where you need him the most, where your body yearned for him the most.

And jake chuckled.

A deep, crazed rumble of his chest that almost sounded like a purr, his slender fingers deftly stroked your sopping cunt, leaking and dripping when he has barely touched you, and the thought of you being so ready for him, your pretty little pussy wanting him so much that she’s salivating for him? Was making him dizzy.

He hissed, feral and possessive when his claw ripped your soaked panties open, the lace dangling off of it while he let out a guttural sound at the sight of you, so wet, glistening and tightening around nothing as if you’re inviting him in, welcoming him in— begging him to touch you.

“Look at you..” his claws disappeared in an instant, trailing down your folds gently just to hear you whimper under him. “She’s so needy for me..” he was stunned.

Infatuated, so so in love with your pretty hole, his hole, his womb and his home.

“Let’s see how she’ll react to me..” he spoke with the tip of his finger circling your entrance, swirling your nectarine spit making your whole body flutter under him. “She should recognise me now..” you didn’t know what he was talking about.

Because jake didn’t tell you that his venom doesn’t only make your throat crave him, it doesn’t only make your mouth thirst for him and your body to settle when he’s around.

The venom that he created for you, that ran in your veins right now and reached your womb— marks you.

From the inside out, wholly and entirely. You didn’t know this, but he owns you now. Your throat, your womb, your entire body.

And he is right. Because the second he kisses your entrance, soft lips nuzzling into your quivering walls, the first flick of his venom laced tongue just inside your entrance— barely in, just a simple poke.

Your back arched in the nest.

A broken sob and moan slipped past your lips at the sheer force, the sheer strength of the contraction that coursed through your body, absolutely and utterly divine.

The tears that aligned your waterline now slipped freely, your walls fluttered— tightening, widening, convulsing restlessly as if they were trying to milk something just at the slightest taste of his venom.

You felt the way a deeper part of you opened up— your tight, unscathed and untouched cervix pulsing right before flickering. As if the gate was entirely unsealed now, cervix swollen, low and ready.

And jake felt all of it, he felt the way your thighs twitched and jerked next to his head, he senses the way your pussy awakened, your womb fluttering open in preparation for him.

Because she recognised him, a single taste— a short, almost nonexistent slip of his venom and she released.

“Of course she does..” he laughed in awe, at the feeling of your body burning under him, at the breathless sounds that escaped your falling chest, at the way more slick poured out of you like it was urging him in.

The sight, the sense and the scent of everything alone made his head spin. The serpent felt the way his tail twitched in desperation, fingers shaking as he tried his best to not allow his claws to slip out, his slit pupils dilating so far his emerald iris is gone.

He felt the carnal urge, the primal pull that stirred inside of him. The need and the desire, the programmed, biological response of his kind to claim, to worship, to breed. The very cunt that’s anticipating him. Dripping in arousal and hunger in hopes of luring him in with his venom still pulsing through your veins, so reactive, so responsive.

But not tonight, not yet.

Jake will just worship you for tonight, please and satisfy your needy pussy in preparation for what’s to come.

That’s when he slipped his tongue inside of you. Lengthy muscle that pulsed within your walls at every contraction that he felt, you cried. Fingers gripping around the sheets so hard your knuckles paled, a sheen, thin layer of sweat illuminating your body while you fell apart above his nest.

You looked divine, something holy, something completely sacred.

And the serpent wanted to do nothing more than to devote himself to you. Mind, body and soul.

His pretty mate, his loving mate that accepted and thrived off of his venom— writhing under him, twitching and shaking as moans spilled out of your body, pure euphoria overflowing within you while jake retracted his tongue— only to thrust it back in entirely.

Movements sloppy, uncoordinated and mindless as he fucked your throbbing cunt on his tongue that dripped and drooled with his saliva and his venom, your walls clamped down on his muscle, the first contact of his poison right against you made you feel delirious.

Your body drank him in, tightening walls that he fucked were wrapping around him, milking his tongue that gave more and more of his flavour, his taste and your womb’s sedative.

Jake’s tail slashed behind him, his hips rutting restlessly against the layers of fabric of his nest under him. He felt his senses sparking when your taste filled him up. Eyes wild, claws peeking before disappearing and jake was just getting started.

His breaths were heavy as he felt himself unable to breathe. Tongue so deep inside of you, the forked edges dragged against your pulsing walls while his split tips nuzzled into your sweetest spots, you tasted so good, so tender.

He wrapped your thighs around his head with no intentions of slipping out anytime soon, his mouth suckled around your folds, drenched when his nose brushed against your puffy clit, needy and neglected that from one single stroke, you came.

You weren’t even able to process the build up of your climax, nor were you able to comprehend the waves of pleasure that crashed upon you, one after the other. Merciless as jake fucked you through it. Tongue piercing you faster, rougher and deeper.

Until you felt him reach your peak.

The one sacred spot inside of you. Hidden and tucked away so deep in safety, in security. The one spot that jake claimed.

The one the serpent wanted and marked. It belongs to him now, your fluttering, dripping cervix that throbbed the moment his poisoned tips reached it.

And you screamed, the sensation so new, so uncomfortable yet soothing— so painful yet pleasant, it made you feel like your mind was melting away, your head being filled with mush while your body went completely limp under him.

Jake was euphoric. High on the taste of you, on the feeling of you pulsing around him, and right when he reached the opening of your cervix, his place, the one he’s going to surrender himself too, he felt feral.

He’s reached his peak, the most precious part of his mate that he caressed with the tips of his tongue, slicking and stroking the tight muscle that twitched for him, called for him. He couldn’t ever think of retracting himself away, of leaving you alone, not when the sensation of your tightening was so addictive.

He could feel you from here, love you from here. He was able to sense the beat of your heart just because his tongue was touching the most intimate part of you, and he felt his body shake in relief. In satisfaction that this is his home.

Your womb, pretty and fluttery, prospered under his venom. The one he keeps feeding you, rolling out of his glands along his tongue and straight to your cervix, where your muscles pulsed like they were taking him in, drinking him up.

“You’re drinking from me..” he mouthed at your sensitive clit, your cunt was so overstimulated, so used but still restless against his tongue. “Your womb.. she’s taking from me. She recognises me..” he’s completely frenzied.

And you were slipping in and out of consciousness, unaware in a bubble of constant bliss, you didn’t know if you were cumming anymore— all you could feel was the consistent thrumming, the consistent pulling and convulsing of your walls around his tongue while the tips swirled and pushed at your cervix, almost like they were cuddling against it.

Jake’s body slumped, engulfed in elation while your figure rested under him, legs occasionally twitching when he caressed too hard, his mouth and tongue locked. This time on your cunt, feeding his venom inside of you to claim you, to leave a mark so deep it’s almost a wound, a scar that you’ll always carry.

A deep connection, a familiarity between his venom and your womb.

So he kept feeding you, even when your awareness floated away, keeping you sealed in a cloud of pure pleasure and surrender. Even when his muscles ached and his tail twitched wildly, and even when his sweatpants felt so warm and sticky from his mindless release right when your womb accepted him.

He was still inside of you, like a good, responsible and possessive mate that will do anything for his other half. He caressed you, he held you and kept you full while your cervix allowed it, welcomed it, loved it.

You were flourishing with his venom flooding you from the inside, and it was just the beginning.

The serpent placed a big porcelain plate in front of you. Vibrant with colours of different fruits and vegetables, the pretty hues from the berries and the chopped pieces of bell peppers alongside the golden glow of the fried eggs he made so early in the morning.

Packed with protein and filling, just what he needed for his mate. “Eat. All of it, angel.” His words were tender, touch even softer in comparison. He hovered behind you, towering frame that glimmered with scattered scales along his tail, Jake’s built was so impressively massive he could cover you with his body completely.

“I need you to be healthy, at all times. Need you to be energetic and strong.” His clawed finger ran along your shoulder blade, careful and featherlight. Teasing the strap of your short, satin nightgown that he picked up when your body was too sensitive to even move. You nodded at his attentiveness, heart swelling in your chest when he placed a soft kiss to your neck. “Eat well, my mate.”

And you did, fingers grabbing the honeyed toast apart as you chewed, strawberries bursting with sweetness in your mouth as you nourished your body the whole time your viper’s tail stroked your thighs, travelling along the dips and curves of your skin gently. Scales velvety soft as if each movement that was caressing you was kissing your body.

You turned around every now and then to pop a piece of fruit into his mouth, pulling apart your toast unevenly to give him the bigger pieces, and he accepted all of them. Flicking his long tongue out to tease your fingertips that held the food to his lips before he let the edge of his fang graze your skin, just to hear you giggle when he finally took the piece in his mouth.

He felt himself falling closer to you, even though there was barely in space between you two physically, he still was lured towards you. No matter how much he kissed you, touched you and breathed you in he always yearned to be closer.

To nuzzle into you, carve a space in your heart just for him and stay there, safe and protected in the spot that he flourished in. He could never feel himself close enough— if possible, he wanted to bore his entire soul to yours.

You fed him when you believed that it was the opposite, you loved and protected him when you thought that he was the one doing everything. But the truth was that he would’ve crumbled apart ages ago if it wasn’t for your kind touch and loving eyes that gazed at him like he hung the stars in your universe, he breathed the air into your lungs and he brought the sun out to your sky.

So devoted, so in love and so mated.

He adored you, his very being was wrapped around you, surrounding you in ways only a serpent could wrap around their mate. He wasn’t just bonding himself to you, eventually making himself just bonded— no, he was fated to you.

The same way you accepted him, the same way you were fated to him.

A fusion of your two souls, laced with warm blood and sweet venom that glowed between your chests, something beyond comprehension skills, beyond the relationships and marriages you were used too, because you weren’t in love with jake. You dedicated every piece of yourself to him.

And he held each piece with care, a teasing yet gentle hold. Just like the way he nipped your finger now.

“Ow! That one hurted.” You huffed, the serpent’s pupils thinned when he let out a sudden breath, a laugh at your endearing expression while you stared at your perfectly fine finger.

Jake quickly engulfed your finger in his hands, cool blooded heart unable to take the slight pout in your face. He pressed his lips right on the spot he grazed, “all better now, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

The serpent kept you close, arm now cradling your side, tail wrapped protectively around your ankle all the while his own hand fed you from the plate since your hand should ‘just rest now’ according to his words.

And he pressed a soft kiss to your overly sweet mouth after each bite. As if to praise you, to seal the bite inside and make sure that you swallow it.

When you’re done with everything, he presses a kiss to your throat.

It felt like a ‘thank you’ rather than a kiss, a small appreciation for nurturing you and keeping you in his arms.

You cuddled closer to him, a habitual heat radiating off his body that pulsed against you. Making you feel every breath, every beat and every pulse. You were a part of him as much as he was a part of you.

“Jake..” your voice was giddy, calling for him as he hummed peacefully behind you, his lips were gently littering kisses along your shoulder, down your arm and right on the faint throb on your wrist.

And then you felt it.

A deep, carnal hunger, the same discomfort, the same itch from two nights ago— it made you shift in your seat, retracting your arm from his hold like you couldn’t fully breathe for a moment, your body was feverish.

Jake’s eyes narrowed, detecting the shift instantly and flicking his tongue out to taste the air— distress, agitation, thirst.

His tail unwrapped from your ankle, “everything okay?” Voice low, attentive and protective. You shook your head, a dryness aching in your throat. “I think .. that thing is happening again.” The serpent’s composure wavered.

It was working. Your body .. was thirsty for him again.

It made jake swoon. A slight tremor in his fingers when he breathed out shakily, his own body trembling in the need to provide, the need to protect and love.

He felt like he was drowning in you.

“Oh baby..” he cooed, muscular arms wrapping around your middle to lift you off and bring you back to the nest, your safe space and his home. He carried you tenderly, claws nowhere to be seen while his soft palms caressed your skin.

Jake laid you down above the fabrics, the cloths and clothes and the blankets that he chose, his own larger body hovering above you while your stomach churned in hunger. The feeling bubbling up and burning your throat, making you whimper in his hold as he shushed you softly.

He leaned down to your neck, pressing his nose right above your pulse point, each thump making his muscles relax as he flicked his tongue out— little beads of poison glittering that he licked down your skin.

The serpent kept moving, nuzzling your skin, kissing your collarbones, licking right above your breasts, nipping along your shoulders while his palm pressed on your lower stomach— right above your uterus where you felt a contraction pulse the moment his skin touched yours.

A gasp slipped out of you at the feeling, a sudden rush of heat washing down your body as you began gushing, folds soaking through your panties while Jake gazed at you in awe. “You’re already calling for me..” he was mesmerised.

“Your womb .. she’s calling for me again. She recognises me even more than I expected.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead right to the heat source, right between your hips, “I still have to prepare you more for me, love.”

“Still need you to be ready for me.. so you can take all of me.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, words of reassurance and calm spilling past his lips but there trickles of sweat on his temples, the tips of his claws almost fully appearing— and that’s when you noticed that Jake was holding himself back from you.

“Jake .. please.” You whimpered, weak hands curling around him as your hips began to ache in need, a soreness spreading from your throat, to your stomach that felt empty and down between your legs.. where you were practically twitching in desire.

Your nails dug into his muscles, “I need you right now, I need you.” Jake inhaled sharply, his own pants tightening around him, the way you looked at him— with the gentlest twinkle of tears in your eyes, lips wobbling when you begged him to give himself fully to you, to not restrain himself, not now and not ever.

But Jake couldn’t, you weren’t ready for him. He knew this and no matter how much it hurt him— he didn’t want to hurt you.

He’ll take all the needed time to prepare you, to prepare your body for him. So when the time does actually come, you’ll fully accept him instead of being in pain. He could never make you uncomfortable knowing that he was the cause.

“Sweetheart.. you know I can’t. Not yet.” He caressed your jaw, fingers featherlight as they went down your neck, you felt small tears drop slip down your temples that he didn’t hesitate to lick up, the sight of you almost making him whimper with the urge to just fully claim you, adore you and make you his.

“You’re not ready for me yet, little nest.” He mumbled against your skin, tone shaky like his words were hurting him. “but once you are— I promise I’ll never let you go a day without being filled of me. I promise I’ll always let you feel me in any way that you want. You’ll fully breathe me in.”

“But for now, I’ll just keep soothing you with my venom.” His lips were now returning to your neck, fangs peeking past his plump lips that became swollen from the kissing. “Ready, baby?” You nodded your head quickly, tears springing down your eyes fully in anticipation at him finally sedating you.

And then it happened— his fangs sunk right into your pulse point. The sharp tips puncturing your skin, your vein, venom instantly gushing inside of you making your blood flare.

You didn’t even have time to process the pain— the burning wound and sinking of his fangs, didn’t even have time to process the scream that it ripped out from your chest before you fell back to the mattress the moment his poison hit your blood stream directly. No longer being drunk from your throat, it was being injected.

And the feeling was making you intoxicated. Completely drunk in the matter of seconds as you mewled in euphoria, pleasure coursing through you, intensifying with every heart beat inside of you that rushed, picking up the pace when jake growled into your skin.

He moaned when your flavour hit his tongue. The serpent, though not one to crave blood, felt his head spin at yours. The crimson warmth that flushed into his mouth, he was drinking the life of you, the life of his mate.

Then you started to feel it— the more he drank, the more he took, the tighter his hands gripped your hips, the more you floated.

Slowly, faintly slipping out of the embrace of consciousness. Your eyelids became droopy, breaths slow and deep while your entire body relaxed.

Jake noticed all of it. He just venom-fed you into subspace.

The feeling of your body fully surrendering to him, to his scales, to his fangs and to his venom made him groan in satisfaction. You were giving him your complete all.

“That’s right, baby..” he muttered, mouth still so wet of you while you whimpered in his hold, so spent and so high on his poison. The sensation of him flooding you was so electrifying yet so soothing. It was like your entire body was waiting for this again, “go under for me.. just like that.”

Jake didn’t know it yet, but this version of you, so pliant, so unguarded was his favourite. He could protect you all he wanted, kiss you and caress you all he wanted all the while you trusted him just enough to let him do absolutely anything to you.

“Stay there for me, love.. I’ll take care of you.” And he did. His venom pulsed inside of you carefully, filling you up and making ecstasy rush through your entire body that fluttered in his hold. You let go entirely. Not a single thought, a single voice or a single breath in your head. Besides the warmth of his body and the stroke of his scaled tail around your calf. “I always will.”

With his arms wrapped protectively around you and his fangs snug inside of you— you slept in peace. Cradled in the most gentle hold that’s ever touched you, as if you were made of the most divine glass to bless Earth, and in Jake’s eyes of course you were, you were the most precious human he’s ever laid eyes on.

This bite— wasn’t just a simple feeding from him to you, it wasn’t just a bite. It was complete submission, it was dedication and it a confession. All this wasn’t for him, he already knew he had you wrapped around him just like the way he had his tail coiled around you, he knew he had a home in your soul in the same way you owned his.

But this was a mark of love, a promise to the bond that you both created. One that bridged your mortal heart to his serpent one, webbing in between and making them inseparable. And now, each pulse of your heart was connected to his. Each breath that you inhaled to your lungs, he exhaled them for you. Each thought that annoyed your mind, he fought it off for you.

This was past anything that you could’ve shared with another human, and way more exceptional than any mating he could’ve had with another hybrid. Because you were connecting two universe together with each moment you both breathed together— you connected a human to a snake.

A bond that flourished, that bloomed and went beyond any other previous love, relationship or marriage.

You had your soul tied to his now, and you both grew to adore this bond more day by day.

It happens without either of you knowing, without either of you catching on, but the connection grows.

Each night that you spend wrapped in his coils, the taste of his venom still fresh in your tongue and his claws retracted with his hand covering your waist protectively? It blooms.

With every shared breath, it pulses to life. With every exchanged kiss, it stirred like it was awakening— akin to an ancient flame, an ancient dream, a promise. Spoken only between the lips of a human and a serpent, but kept safe. Secure with your love and his scales.

Then it grew, it blossomed. A life formed between the two of you, a new breath that swelled over your relationship, your bond grew. Fully forming, fully developing and connecting you to him, body, mind, soul and heart.

It started off when you were in the den, an open book between your hands while you cuddled up against his hoodie in the nest. Jake was outside, he muttered something about hybrid meetings before disappearing behind the door.

And then you felt a tug— a push at your chest, heat building up but not the good kind, no. You felt angry.

Like something had agitated you, something pissed you off. Something that went wrong.

You sat up right on the bed, brows furrowed at confusion and the way your hands were almost twitching with fury. That’s when the door of your house slammed open, almost getting thrown off of its hinges.

In came Jake. Pupils slit entirely, almost appearing like a thin line as his emerald eyes were dim. Claws full unsheathed while his tail lashed behind him like a whip. He stormed inside of the place, steps heavy and mad.

“Jake..?” You called but his ears were ringing. He didn’t spot your figure walking into the living room, too busy pacing around the area while running his claws through his hair. “Did something happen at the meeting?” When your quiet, calm voice finally registered into his senses, he exhaled.

He breathed for the first time in hours.

An instant relief rushed through him— the same one that you felt as the bond now humming. In satisfaction, in relief at the proximity.

“No.. nothing happened, love. Nothing that you need to worry about.” Jake walked towards you, the anger in his posture fully dissipating when he inched closer and laid his palms on your hips. The touch making him melt against you. “It’s .. nothing serious.” He swallowed heavily.

But you already knew. You felt it.

Shaking your head, “Jake .. I know you’re angry because something went wrong.” Now his eyes were locked on you. “I don’t know what it is.. but it felt like something that you worked hard on was messed up. Like the frustration you get when your effort just goes to waste.” The serpent stilled.

“How did you.. figure all this out?”

“I don’t know, I just felt it.” He tilted his head.

You weren’t a hybrid that could pick up on scent changes, besides the fact that he did storm inside the house with his mannerisms screaming anger, you still knew too much.

“I felt your anger.” You added, your words now making his eyebrow arch while his claws grazed your skin just a tiny bit.

Inching closer, “I felt the way your frustration bloomed in your chest, the way your hands..” you lowered yours to hold onto his, thumb pressing gently against his palm, “the way they shook in anger.”

Jake exhaled shakily.

“I don’t know why, I think it’s this bond thing we have going on. But I truly felt everything like I was the one experiencing.” Your words— you simply didn’t know how much they weighed to jake.

You didn’t know that this was just more confirmation to him that you’re his mate. That the bond is settling in, fully connecting and spreading further into your lives. You felt his emotions when he wasn’t even near you.

Maybe you were unaware, or maybe you weren’t ready to face something like this. But you were already developing a sense of instinct for him. For your mate. This sense, had already existed in jake since he was born, it’s only that now it found its other half.

You were completing him without even knowing.

The bond was flourishing, roaring in love and devotion that only thrummed harder when your mate was close by.

He pressed his forehead to yours, all of his limbs felt relaxed. “It is the bond. You’re not just marked by me anymore, you’re mine and I’m yours. Emotions, thoughts and soul wise.”

“You feel what I feel. That’s how close we are now.” And you only blinked at him in awe, mesmerised by the bond and your creation— this special connection that you formed and developed with Jake with your bare hands, now made you exist within him the same way he will within you.

Over the days, it only blossomed more.

Your thoughts were no longer fully yours, they were sharing a space with Jake’s. And sometimes it was a bit too much.

“I wonder how our kids will look like..” “Jake.” He perked up, tongue flicking out nervously as he looked at you with his eyes widened. “Can you not wonder about our kids when I’m trying to read?” You could’ve sworn you felt just the lightest flush on the tips of his ears. “Sorry..”

“Will i be asking him too much if—“ you’re not even given the chance to continue before you feel a warm tail wrapping around your ankle. Holding you gently as his burly figure slithered behind you. “Never.” He hissed, “you’ll never ask for too much.”

But it was never just your thoughts. Jake started to feel the way you do as well.

Whenever you felt colder than usual, he would cuddle up next to you wordlessly. His scales tangling around you multiple times while he places a gentle kiss on your temple.

The one day you woke up craving something sweet for breakfast, he already had an entire plate of honeyed toast and waffles piling up next to chopped fruits. And he would feed the pieces to you one by one. Glued to your side as he nourished you right in front of his eyes.

With his closeness, the shared attachment and the continuous reaching out for each other, the bond was enchanted. It fluttered whenever the serpent touched a sensitive spot on your skin, buzzed when you kissed his neck.

It bent when he didn’t glance at you in hours. It coiled when you didn’t touch him for a night.

The connection was an indicator and a regulator of everything. Syncing your heartbeats, your thoughts, your souls.

It kept you bounded to jake. In all ways possible, you were his.

That’s why when you woke up one day, with an uncomfortable tightening in your abdomen, a warmth burning your skin and an itch that you couldn’t drink away— jake was by your side before you even called for him.

Because he didn’t need you to be verbal about anything anymore, he felt it before you even spoke it.

The discomfort, the pain and shuddering when your entire body ached. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice was hushed when you curled in on yourself in the middle of his nest. Jake was on his knees next to you, slit pupils studying your every move— before the realisation dawned on him.

It wasn’t discomfort it was a tug.

It wasn’t pain it was a call.

“My body .. feels so wrong. It feels so odd.” Because it was ready. “Love..” the air from his lungs was knocked out the second you whimpered and he smelt it.

Like a carnal urge awakening, ripping its way to life within him— he picked up your scent, your need. Your arousal, sweet and addictive wafting through the air to his nose.

His split tongue uncontrollably flicked out to taste it, to taste the tiniest tinge of your nectarine in the air. And he groaned when he realised that you weren’t just ready— you were fertile for him. You tasted fertile.

“It’s not wrong.. or odd.” The serpent hissed, now climbing next to your curled body before his tail and arms engulfed you. “Your body is calling for me, little nest.” You grunted at his words, arousal gushing between your legs like flowing slick. “You’re ready for me.” And at that your legs instinctively opened.

Like a welcoming gesture, the warmth spreading between you both as Jake coiled himself around you, his massive arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close, grounding you. While the other slipped down your hips.

You moaned in relief when he mouthed at your shoulder, fingers dipping past your soaked underwear while the tip of his nose brushed right against your pulse point— and he nuzzled closer. Kissing, nipping, licking at your skin to scent you. Right above your heart beat.

“My pretty mate..” his claws were retracted, rough fingers toying with your folds making you gasp in his hold. “All ready for me.. finally calling for me.” The serpent felt delirious.

He felt the way that the desire that rushed through you, was stemming from the deepest parts of your soul. He was witnessing you naked. Completely bare for his eyes, searching and reaching towards him.

Towards the only person you know that will hold you, soothe you and protect you. Your mate.

Jake moved to hover above you, his tail now circling your hips with the tip stroking your lower stomach where the skin burned him. You looked up at him, pretty eyes glossy with expectancy, waiting when your body blazed with need.

And when you felt a pulse, a contraction blooming in your abdomen in pain— you whimpered his name. So soft, so broken and defenceless.

Jake crumbled entirely. All restraint and plans of being gentle with you in your first time evaporating away.

He needed you, and you need him right now.

“Shh— sweetheart, don’t worry. I’ve got you..” the serpent’s tail coiled around one of your thighs before pulling it towards his hips, opening you. His mouth latched onto your jaw, flicking his divided tongue along your skin while you shuddered under him. Gasps and sighs all falling from your lips as waves of relief washed down on you, the bond humming in satisfaction whenever jake touched you.

“I’ve got you.. your mate’s got you, already so sweet and ready for me..” Jake babbled on the lower his kisses went, plump lips already swollen trailing down your collarbone before he ripped apart your nightgown. Claws shredding the soft satin before settling above your flushed skin gently. So careful. “You’re all ready for me.. I can feel it.” He pressed his palm onto your lower stomach—

And he could’ve sworn he felt a throb. Right under his touch.

Jake couldn’t help the frenzied smile that etched on his features.

You groaned in pleasure when he pressed— applying light pressure, his pupils dilating when your scent sharpened. Sweetened. And the throbbing under his palm continued.

“There she is..” his voice was low, so low it sounded like he was purring. He leaned right next to your ear, akin to a predator taunting their prey, territorial and crazed. “There’s my favourite place.. pulsing for me.” He flicked his tongue out to taste you again. The need, the lust and the desire.

He pressed harder. “Feel that, angel? That’s you wanting me. That’s you being my mate.” Jake breathed in, inhaling your scent like it was his air— like he couldn’t live without it. “That’s where I’m gonna be at all times now. I’m going to keep you full. Here. Always.”

Your limbs were weak, the hunger now burning its way through your veins and lighting you on fire. Like a lava waiting just for the right moment to erupt inside of you, yet you only could whimper under jake. Could only look at him with tears in your eyes in hopes of him doing something.

The serpent then sensed everything.

The burn in your womb, the ache in your body, the warmth pooling between your legs— the bond convulsing with anticipation and jake was left gasping for breath. “Fuck.. baby, this is all for me? This is how you feel for me?” And you nodded because he wasn’t aware of the way he had you suffocating in his love. Wasn’t aware that you were drowning in him.

Now Jake didn’t want to do anything besides the exact same.

To cover and wrap and strangle himself with you. He suddenly lowered himself and finally kissed you.

The gasps and moans fell past your lips effortlessly, the kiss was anything but that. It was the two of you breathing one another in. Biting, licking, sucking with your teeth clashing. His spit instantly dribbled down your throat, the venom bursting in your tongue like it just sprung you back to life and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around the serpent’s neck to bring him closer, to take more.

Jake’s entire body was pressed against yours. His tail thrumming with his heart beat that pulsed wildly, smooth scales turning warmer by the second, you moaned into his mouth and he swallowed. “So pretty.. every pretty noise you make.. every pretty moan are all mine.” He bit on your lower lip, brushing his split ends while tears aligned your waterline, “just mine. Only mine.”

“Jake.. please,” your voice was barely audible, a small, broken sound between all his hissing. “I need you, really bad. It hurts.” Jake inhaled sharply,

And then he unleashed everything.

His hands, that were so gently caressing your skin, held onto your wrists and pinned them upwards. He pushed his body against yours, his tail pressing at your hips after coiling around once— trapping you under him.

The serpent hissed loudly. A light vibration rumbling in his chest that spread to your body, he began to rut into you. Hips rubbing and grinding mindlessly, you felt a poke— a pressure. Of something massive, warm, throbbing.

The size alone makes you choke a gasp out, jake smiled like he knew that you felt him. “Felt me, little nest? I’m gonna be inside you all the time now.” He whispered hotly into your skin. “Gonna let you crave me so much you’ll want me in all the time, everyday.” And you knew that he meant every word. Because Jake always kept his promises.

He loved the way your wetness seeped through his clothes to coat him. Loved the way you were so soaked and so eager to claim you couldn’t help yourself but do it even without him touching you. He wanted you to claim and mark him just as bad as he wanted to do it to you, and now was his chance to bring all his dreams to life.

While you were shuddering and gasping beneath him, his tail uncoiled.

The tip that once rested on your hip, inched closer to your middle— right before dipping under your panties.

You froze.

“Feel me, baby?” His tail thrusted deeper, your pussy tightened around his scales that soothed your walls. Pulsing, throbbing and so hot it felt like he was leaking inside of you. You sobbed when the stretch settled in, so wide it burned you from the inside out. Yet it felt so good. Especially when he pressed down his palm, feeling right where he was. “I’m right here, angel. I’m home.”

You squealed when his rough tip, now soft and swollen nuzzled right into your cervix opening. The small, pulsating rhythm of the beginning of your uterus throbbing at the contact. You sniffled as you weakly held onto him, body completely open and vulnerable at his mercy. “Jake.. a-are you sure this is okay—?” You sounded so shy. So bewildered at what he was doing to you, to your little pussy that could only stretch and drool around him.

The serpent laughed breathlessly. “Of course, baby. You’re taking me so well.. wrapping around my tail so nicely, look how pretty you look all open for me.” His praises fell off his lips like honey, Jake felt the way you clenched around his scales as he stretched you open. Your cunt dripping more and more each time he pulled back just the slightest bit before pushing his tail all the way back in.

Up until his swollen tip pressed against your cervix, and then began to pulse.

Your body twitched above the nest. Hips jerking forward when Jake didn’t pull back, he only throbbed right into your opening like his tail was kissing your cervix. “J-Jake.. what’s going on—“ “shhh Angel girl. Don’t worry about anything, let your mate prepare your pretty womb.” And then you felt the force, the pull.

The suction right against your tight ring of muscles. Like he was pulling your uterus down and making it bloom open at the same time— you felt the way your womb contracted right before dilating at his command.

And at the sensation of the hot, sticky and wet sucking, you thrashed in his hold. Your entire body felt like it was melting away while Jake wrapped his arms around you roughly, to keep you in place when you sobbed into his neck.

You felt so overwhelmed. The feeling was building up inside of you so rapidly, your heart thundered in your chest, struggling to keep up with everything that was happening.

From his whispered praises, sloppy mouth kissing and licking anywhere he could reach, the peak of his claws appearing every second just to dig and then disappear— and his tail. His tail that felt like it was splitting you as it sucked at your cervix, trembling as if to beg for your womb to let it inside. Everything felt debauched, so cruel yet so blissful.

“Gonna make your needy womb all open for me..” the serpent grunted breathlessly next to your ear, tongue flicking to lick the shell before he spoke again. “Get you all pretty and ready for me.. so you’ll be able to carry my clutch, baby.” You whimpered.

Throat hoarse from the consistent moaning and sobbing, eyelashes heavy from the unshed tears, the nest felt unbearable— yet it was also the only place you wanted to be in right now. The air so thick with his scent, with your slick and his wafting pheromones that floated away from his scales. Sweat clinging to both of your bodies, increasing the more his skin rubbed to yours.

Jake felt his senses slipping through his fingers, nostrils flared as he tried his best to inhale into his suffocating lungs. He could only feel you. Only breathe and sense you. His instincts flaring yet calming down at the same time, his thoughts incoherent as an ancient, a primitive hiss echoed through him. Like the serpent inside of Jake fully awakened this time.

With the intention to arouse, to stake, to coil around what’s his.

That was exactly what his body was moving to do before he was even aware of it. He felt so lost, so drunk and mindless with his hands gripping your hips to anchor himself. Yet nothing helped, he felt himself slipping further into the warmth, the engulfing embrace of lust and mating.

He wanted nothing more than to be connected to you in the most intimate way possible. His tail that cradled your cervix, the opening that fluttered around him like a blooming flower— latched on. Sucking and pulling like your womb was its only lifeline. Jake shuddered above you the more his body desperately pulled.

Your legs folded around his hips, pulling his tail even closer when your entire body yearned for him. Thirst amplifying by the second, your skin was feverish. Blazing with an entire layer of glistening sweat. You could no longer talk or speak— you left all the talking to your weak limbs that gripped onto the serpent like he was the only thing keeping secure, keeping you afloat above the sea of need that you both were drowning in.

It felt too intimate, too close, too much. You couldn’t breathe without his hot mouth touching you in some way, you felt your mind shut down the moment his hands would move from one place to another— and jake was weak.

His hands almost frail while his legs trembled. “Shit sweetheart.. you’re taking me in so well.” His tone airy, barely carrying the usual edge to it when he was melting on top of you. You could only flutter around his tail, your shyness still glowing and it made his heart lurch to his throat.

Then he moved his hand, one stayed anchored next to your head to steady himself while the other dipped low. He lowered himself to litter kisses down your neck, whispers of loving, sweet promises all spoken carefully to your skin only. Like it was a promise between him and your body alone.

Jake’s figure was restless. Twitchy, so sensitive. He felt something unfurling within him— something he wasn’t fully prepared for himself. And it excited him and terrified him at the same time.

The scratch of claws against his ribs, the graze of fangs against his throat. He was holding back his serpent from fully possessing him. Coming out and claiming, marking and hurting. Because that’s what his kind did.

It was driving him insane. But you looked so pretty under him.. writhing just from his tail that suckled on your womb like it was breathing air. A singular moment of break would mean that he would starve. His movements were all steady, stable. continuous.

Yet there was an urge to just dig his claws inside of you. To land his final touch and lay his clutch in your warmth— to fully possess you and change you. Witness the way your body will adapt to him.

The effect of him on you.

Jake tried his hardest to hold back, even if he was thrusting his tail inside of you like he was chasing his own high. Even if he felt the way you gushed and shuddered around him when your climax fluttered through you, he still attempted his best to tame his animalistic side.

But serpents were always stronger than humans. He could only do so much with his humane abilities—

That’s why he slipped his tail out in the blink of an eye, his pupils slitting to thin threads when a cry fell from your lips right before he flipped you over onto your stomach.

The serpent was wild. Claws now fully digging into your skin making you whimper in pain, his muscular chest pressed to your back. Pushing you towards the mattress while he held your hips, shifting them upwards to press against his own.

He was completely slipping. Fangs bared, venom dripping down his throat. A deadly glint in his as his breaths came out shallow. The mortal cuffs he had forced upon himself melting entirely when a painful throb spread right from under his abdomen—

From right below his waistline, where his slit slowly folded open to allow his erect cock to slither from behind his iridescent scales— he was massive. Awakened and excited. Way past the average human size, tip a primal red while his base flushed gently with the same gleaming dark emerald of his scales.

And he was leaking so much you would’ve thought that it was his climax instead. Pretty, opaline with infused venom ropes of cum drizzled past his length. Dripping onto the fabrics of the nest when he pressed the head of his cock to your sopping entrance.

He felt absolutely feral. His hands trembling, attempting his best to keep him steady while he teased your cunt. The serpent’s mouth was unable to detach from your body, “mine mine mine..” he whispered with his eyes half lidded, drowning in desire.

“All mine.. my pretty mate, my little nest.” He spoke, wrapping one of his hands around your neck. Fully thrusting inside of you. “There we go..” and you were panting.

He was so big, so deep. “J-jake.. please slow down—“ he paused.

Length throbbing, flaring between her stretched walls. “You want me to slow down.. when she’s been waiting for me?” Jake mocked.

His grip on your jaw tightened, sharp nails indenting your skin. “How could I possibly do that, baby?” Now his voice was softer. Desperate, wet with the leaking venom from his fangs. He talked like he was guilt tripping you, like he couldn’t believe that you wanted him to slow down. Like it hurt.

“Just a little bit— don’t stop, m’not asking you to..” the serpent exhaled heavily, continuing to sheath himself inside of you. “You don’t get what you do to me, baby..”

“You dont get what I want to do to you right now..” his voice was unlike his. Something dark, something ferocious spoke from within him. Thick with malice, webbed in the impulse to ruin.

And you were the victim. You were the chosen one to take. The thought alone made you shiver beneath him, goosebumps appearing making the animal behind you chuckle in amusement.

“Scared?” Jake snarled right next to your ear. Smiling when more tears slipped past your eyes— from the adrenaline that dug into your heart, the swirled combination of fear and excitement— terror and arousal. “No need to be scared, baby.. I’m just here to take care of you.”

He whispered like he was trying to distract you. Like his words could conceal the burn, the unbearable stretch of his serpent cock that thrusted inside of you.

You gasped wordlessly, back arching when fresh tears aligned along your jaw. Every single inch of your body felt electrified while you felt almost suffocated. “Breathe.” Jake growled.

Fangs brushing your ear. You struggled, you felt consumed. Undertaken by a dizzying fog of pleasure and euphoria— so strong it numbed you. “Breathe baby..” this time his thumbs pressed right above your jugular vein making you choke.

“J-jake—! S’too much— too deep—!” “But baby you’re taking it so well though..” you cried when his hand creeped to close just lightly around your mouth. “Listen to her, angel.” And you did. The wet, noisy and obscene sounds of your pussy clenching around him when he thrusted, pulling his hips back for a slight second— only letting you feel his tip before shoving his cock inside of your cunt that squirted in relief. “How am I supposed to slow down when this is how you sound for me?”

He trembled behind you. Legs twitching with his pelvis pressing flush into you. “You’re taking your mate too good, sweetness..” the pleasure creeped right up his spine, the sensation making him guttered. “Too good, baby.. you’re driving me insane.”

So soft, so warm. Searingly hot. Your entire body flushed under him, womb pulsing as the head of his swollen cock kept kissing it, pulling it and pushing it like it loved toying with your deepest, most sacred part. His favourite part.

All the while his hovering figure leaned down lower and lower. Until he had his front pressed to your back. Each breath that left his lungs fanned around your skin. His tongue flicked out to taste the thick air. It tasted so abundant with your flavours.

“You’re all mine, angel.. only mine. Just mine. My pretty mate that I’ll love and fill forever.” With each word he pushed more. He stayed inside more. Each time making your limbs melt further above the nest. Everything felt so good— a spell that he spoke in an unknown, ancient language that only he knew the gravity of before blowing it towards you.

He had you fully under his control. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t speak. You barely could move. You were unable to do anything— and for some reason it felt nice.

It was comforting to have his weight pinning you down. Comforting to know that no matter how much your needy cervix ached, he’ll always be there to kiss it better.

It made you feel so safe. So protected and cared for when your mate worshipped you like you were the only religion he knew. The only one he believed in and the only one he saw.

With each stroke of his slick cock that spilled heat inside of you, it felt like your walls were hugging him back. So intimately holding him close even the serpent exhaled shakily at being so accepted— so loved.

Jake then picked up the pace, the slow, deep thrusts shifting into more brutal ones— untamed and beast-like. You mewled into the feathery pillow. So weak compared to the uncontrollable hissing behind you.

Your pussy sucked him in, cervix moulding around his tip the more he teased it. “Feel me here, baby? Doesn’t it feel good to have me here?” And he pressed on your lower stomach. Caressing the bulge of his viper cock that massaged your insides, he felt every flutter, every vein and every ridge while you cried, so overwhelmed.

“F-fuck yes—! I love it, I love it so much— I love how deep you are in me, jakey—“ you babbled, drunk. Wholly under the altered cloud of pleasure he always manages to form around your head. Jake growled at your tone, so airy. He could practically taste how high on his love you were. “Yeah, baby? I’m gonna be here all the time now. Gonna keep your greedy cunt stuffed of me.” His claws glowed, fangs almost vibrating in instinct.

Mark. Claim. Bite. Ruin.

And Jake sunk his teeth right into your shoulder blade, the sensation instantly making you unravel around him as you milked his cock that burned. His hips snapping against you wildly while your arousal drizzled down onto the nest, ruining everything just like the way you were right now.

Sobbing, vision spotted with your ears ringing as Jake fucked you through your orgasm before pulling another one out of you. Your womb was convulsing. Contractions washing down on your body so painfully yet the waves of ecstasy were stronger.

The serpent then injected his venom into you again. The flush of the sweetness bursting in your veins from the hidden hunger. The unknown crave that just got settled, Jake groaned at your taste once again. Your blood tasted even more saccharine when it was engulfed by your orgasm.

You crashed. Over and over again. His length relentless as it rammed inside of you, fucking into all of your sweet spots that made your body jerk under Jake. “That’s it, isn’t it angel?” He breathed heavily when you squealed right as his hips pressed to you in a certain angle— “that’s your sweet, baby spot. Isn’t it? I’m going to worship it.” And he did.

His tip nursed from it. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. The knot in your abdomen no longer formed— you were stuck in a constant state of falling apart while your womb milked his cock even more.

It felt like your body had a mind of its own. So needy, so desperate that no matter how much your mind practically shut down it didn’t care. It was addicted, attached, dependent.

And Jake loved it. He loved the way your pussy was wrapped around him. Tightly, possessively. Unwilling to let go whenever he pulled back— you were claiming him back. Your body was dragging its marks on him, etching its way into his very own skin with the way his cock was tight with desire. The need to unleash and finally paint your insides with him.

So he kept going, because he couldn’t think. He couldn’t process anything. He only felt the pulses, felt the tugging, felt the constant edging of something ready to release, prepared to snap.

“I’m gonna fill you up so well, sweetheart.” The snake hissed, his hand now moving to cradle your lower belly. Where he was going to make you swell with him. His tail coiled behind him, body building in anticipation while his fangs teased your open wound. Where he could still taste you on his tongue.

“Stuff you so full you’ll be leaking of me for weeks. You’ll feel me every time you move.” You shivered at his words. Not because you were scared— but because of how you felt a drop. The lowering of your cervix as it opened more, like a second starved mouth, like it wanted to be stuffed. It wanted to be filled with your mate’s seed.

And when your muscles fluttered around his cock’s head he cooed. “Oh angel.. your pretty womb is just as needy for me as I am for her.” His hand now pressed harder and he felt your uterus flutter back at his touch. “I’ll soothe her.. I’ll satisfy her. Always.”

You couldn’t help the way your body arched further into the bed— hips shifting to allow him to go even deeper while your face was buried into the pillow now. You were still inviting him in even when he was drowning in you.

“P-please.. don’t let me be empty.” And that sentence alone broke Jake.

Then you heard the aftermath— it wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp, it wasn’t something human.

It was a vibration. One that started from the tip of his tail to the top of his head— a click and then a rattle. A heavy, snapping noise that came deep from within his guts. He was released.

“You want to be filled up with me?” The voice that spoke from behind you wasn’t Jake. The moment you froze in shock— walls clenching in surprise when you turned around and saw him different.

His pupils were in their thinnest form, emerald irises glowing brightly in the dim nest. Fangs fully dropped and dripping with venom that fell atop your lower back, right before melting and being drunk by your skin. His scales were fluttering, a dusty green covering the tips of the ones that emerged around his shoulders and neck, down to his forearms.

He looked wickedly frightening. He looked monstrous.

And somehow that made you want him even more.

“I’ll break you.” His tone was a fusion between a hiss and a deep, heavy rumbling that came from the depths of his chest. “I’ll ruin you completely. I will crawl inside of you and alter you. Just like I did with my venom, just like how you belong to me now.” His words, his mouth dripped with venom.

It scared you. Fuck, it terrified you. Yet you still couldn’t find it in yourself to move away, to escape from the beast behind you. The one that was buried so deep inside of you while you tightened around him, pouring at every word he growled at you.

You couldn’t help the way you pushed yourself back under him— the way you pushed your pelvis back against his, and he laughed.

A guttural, dangerous laughter that made more poison spill out from his mouth. “You want me to claim you just as bad as I do.. you want me to take your soul.” And you nodded.

You agreed because you couldn’t function anymore. You couldn’t imagine, couldn’t think about any possibility or life that doesn’t revolve around your serpent. You couldn’t do it, your mind refused to conjure up any image of you that didn’t have scales. That didn’t have venom marks. That didn’t have chilling split pupils.

Because your own body depended on him now. It responded to him, it recognised him, it knew him. You were marked, you were owned.

You had already given him your heart and body, it was only a matter of time before he sunk his fangs around your soul as well.

And you would allow it, because you knew you were safe. You knew that your mate would make the sky fall above the grass to keep you warm and protected between his arms.

Even if he had you away from the world, even if his voice became the only one that you knew, his eyes the only ones you saw and his body the only one you felt, you would never pick another over him.

You could never not choose him. You could never live without your mate.

And Jake claimed everything. His thrusts turned animalistic. Like he was ravaging your guts, scarring your insides to only accept him. His claws sunk back into your hips, deep and unforgiving. Any time your figure jerked forward— moved the slightest bit from under him— he would drag you back.

Because under him is where you belonged now. “Don’t try to run from me, pretty.” His tail, still coated with your wetness brushed your calf. “You and I both know you can’t go anywhere.”

The scales circled you, they engulfed you in coils. From around your hips, between your legs, up your waist and finally resting around your neck— right before he squeezed.

“Jake!” You cried, heart ramming into your ribs when you felt your lungs burn with need of air. The serpent kept his coils unmoving, applying the slightest pressure. “Shh, love. You’re safe, I’ll never hurt you.” Your tired hands desperately held onto the cooling scales, where you could sense each breath he took.

With his cock still nestled so deep inside of your weeping womb, he turned your face around with his clawed hand. “If you want air, you can breathe me in.” And before you could utter another word— he shoved his tongue into your parted lips.

Both of you groaned at the familiar taste, the familiar feeling and stretch of his forked split ends that instantly latched onto the back of your throat. He thrusted inside of you again, cock tightening in a way that you felt it from the heavy release he kept pushing back.

Jake hummed when you moaned around his tongue, your eyes closing in euphoria at his venom streaming down your throat while his length split you open. You felt more aches of pleasure branching into your body, endless climaxes and orgasms all knotting together as your mind floated.

“There you go.. keep floating for me, baby. Stay under my venom.” And you did, you took everything he gave you. The warm, filling poison and the hot ropes of precum that he buried inside of you. “Doing so well for me.. you deserve to be filled so good.” He muttered around your mouth before suckling on your muscle like a baby.

The serpent retracted his tongue, he babbled as he felt the heat building up in his cool blooded body, his legs twitching, tail fluttering around you the closer he inched towards his climax before it broke— and it shattered him entirely.

He snarled so loudly, the noise shaking out of his ribs when his limbs tensed, scales vibrating as he came inside of you.

But he didn’t cum like you normally expected, it wasn’t a few ropes of his warm seed— it was a flood.

A blazing hot, endless liquid that bursted inside of you. Making you cry at the feeling of the stream, of the overflow. He kept hissing in pleasure, wrapped up in a storm of mouth watering thrill that coursed through him, intensifying when your womb constricted— like it was drinking him up, filling your uterus with all he gave.

You were sobbing against the pillow now, covered in a sticky pool of wetness, of arousal and his flooding that didn’t decrease— and then you felt a poke. “There it is..” it was a swell.

A consistent rising, a bump that formed right around his base that was being pushed inside of you now.

Inside of your gushing entrance that clenched in surprise— in shock when you screamed at the ceaseless stretch. The fresh burn, the boiling warmth of his knot as it sunk into you. All the while Jake kept kissing you through it, shushing you and mumbling words into your ear.

“You can take it.. you’re almost there.” His voice was tender now, after his release the viper somewhat softened. You shook under him as your cunt drooled around the new intrusion, much similar to the saliva that dripped out of your mouth.

And then a final pop! That signalled him fully sheathing himself in. Locking him to you with his seed almost sloshing inside of your swollen stomach. The skin on your belly tight and stretched just the slightest bit at the flood.

Jake was in awe.

His clawed hands that were covered in your drool and your indents hovered around your belly, you were so full of him.. so stuffed just from carrying his seed. “You look divine, love.” He kissed right into the wound he had his fangs in just a few minutes ago.

You shuddered at his featherlight touch. A whirling contrast from his predatory hold. Yet you still melted under his fingertips, still floating and relaxed for him.

“Looking so pretty.. just from my seed alone.” His palm pressed against the swell, “wonder how you’ll look like when you carry my clutch.” At those words, you whimpered—

“I want it..” the serpent stiffened. “I want to carry your clutch, Jake.” Jake’s expression changed.

It became unreadable, you were too embarrassed to look at him, your face still covered by the pillowcase, still sensitive. “Baby.. do you realise what you’re asking for?” And before you could even answer, he felt a throb.

Much similar to the one before he bred you, much similar to the one he already memorised— the one of your womb.

Calling for him once again, even when he had just flooded her. She was still greedy. Still wanted more.

Jake smiled.

“Is that so..” he purred, knot swelling down, the bulge slowly slipping out of you. Allowing his gaze to take in the sight of your gaping pussy— still tightening around nothing, still pulsing, still hungry even when she was dripping in him.

You whined at the emptiness, the coldness that wrapped around your womb now that Jake’s cock wasn’t cradling it— the neediness from your body made the serpent sigh in love. “Still want me so bad.. still wanting my clutch.” His hands trailed down your sides that twitched beautifully under his touch.

He then carefully moved you, laying you gently on your back. His tail unfurled from around you slightly, it still hovered next to your hips. He distanced himself just enough to let you breathe.

“I’ll give you my clutch.” Jake whispered right as he looked into your eyes. Half lidded and sparkling with unshed tears that prickled at his heart. “I’ll give you everything that I have.” He leaned down to press the lightest kiss on your lips. Mouths barely touching when his plump lips brushed your swollen ones.

His claws had fully vanished, hands carefully steadying your thighs to wrap around him once more as he slid in between your legs, this time his cock appeared thicker— erect and leaking but swollen. Heavy, loaded.

The sight alone made you salivate. “You’re so.. full,”

“I’ll let it out. I will let it out inside of you.. I’ll make it easy for you.. I’ll make it feel good.” The serpent hissed into your lips, breath hot and heavy as the steam in the nest practically bubbled. The windows were foggy, the room thick and layered with his scent, his pheromones and your arousal.

And then he sank into you once more— this time easier, this time sliding between your slippery walls that gushed around him in welcome. Jake shivered above you, mouth agape while you moaned right into his lips.

The sounds that formed from his cock nudging inside of you were filthy. So nasty, so wet it made your whole body burn. Your hands finally finding the strength to wrap around his wrists on either side of your head just to stabilise yourself.

“She’s so greedy.. she’s sucking me in so well, baby. You’re so needy for me.” Jake whined as his hips worked restlessly, chasing his high when his swollen cock— filled with his clutch caressed your inside, their new home. “I’m gonna give you my babies.. you’ll carry and protect them. You’ll be such a great mama to our babies.” He muttered before dipping his head into the curve of your neck, right where your blood still drizzled in thick droplets.

Your womb quivered with each thrust, every stroke pulling a breath out of your lungs before he sank in so deep his head latched onto your cervix again. “There we go..” Jake’s words were slurred, you were limp above the nest. Slumped under him while he almost evaporated. So intoxicated on the feeling of your walls milking him, so obsessed with how warm your body felt because of him.

And then Jake felt the first drop.. the first swell that indicated his egg lowering. He pressed his hips flush against yours, the head of his cock fully nursing onto your cervix when you felt the shift— the weight, the round sphere that was moving to be inside of you.

“Just like that.. take it, love. Take it and keep it safe.” It finally sunk inside of you, round and weighted. The sensation so new, so intimate as it slipped past him— right into the opening of your cervix that sucked the egg in. Shielding and protecting it in your womb, making you sigh in relief at the sheer relief of carrying his weight— of carrying him.

But then there was another swell.. another drop. “I-is that another—?” “Yes— fuck i have more to give, I always have more to give when it comes to you.” His pelvis jerked into yours, saliva dripping out of his mouth like water as his slit pupils rolled into the back of his head, the feeling burned him from the inside out, blazed his abdomen in ecstatic fire. “Take it, baby. Take all of them from me.”

This time you cried when it pressed into your cervix, the muscles fluttering softly before sucking the egg right next to the other one. The weight increasing in your womb made your legs shake, another release building up even when your body felt so sore. Your pussy still twitching with Jake deep inside of you.

“Last one, little nest. You can take it, I know you can.” The serpent mouthed at your skin, tongue flicking to lick along your cheek, to catch the slipping tears that fell when your stomach felt so full. So heavy and tight already but he was still giving you more.

His palm pressed against the swell, the forming bump of his clutch being protected by you. Being nourished and nurtured inside of you. His instincts flared, the final egg slipping slowly, the heaviest and largest of the bunch— “f-fuck.. we’re almost there, sweetheart. You’re almost full of me.” Jake sobbed into your neck.

His serpent body overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy, by the intensity of the love he held for you. The weight of acceptance, of you wanting him back. All crashing down on him as he stuffed you with his final egg, the bulge of it making you both gasp as the stretch ripped a release from you, so deep, so carnal.

“That’s it baby.. you did it. You’re carrying my soul now.” He spoke tearfully into your mouth, still so close to you. Still buried deep inside of you, his tip remained nuzzled against your cervix that fully closed now. Fulfilled and satisfied.

The serpent’s palm rested against your stomach, it felt warm. Soft with you now holding him, nestling his babies inside the most precious part of you. “You look so beautiful.. all mine. Just mine, so full of me.” Jake worshipped your body.

Tail caressing the underside of your belly while the snake moved towards you, laying next to your body before cradling you against him. All his instincts telling him to protect. To shield.

You hummed in content. So spent, so tired and so bred. Your heart’s pace finally calming down when you cuddled closer to Jake’s warmth. The serpent’s tongue flicked out to touch your neck, your shoulders, just to scent you again. To surround you with him completely while you carry his clutch.

“Sleep now my little nest. I’ll protect you and our babies.” His whisper fluttered with love, your eyes already closing the second he began to purr for you. Soft vibrations calming your nerves while his scales coiled around you protectively, his palm resting above your lower stomach.

“All mine.” The serpent hissed quietly before closing his eyes.

a,n. holy fucking shit it’s finally done. thanks for reading this fever dream 🫶🏼 & feedback is greatly appreciated ! ♡

[valalice]

BLINDS WIDE OPEN .ᐟ ft. stalker!caitvi

ꮼ summary. you've unknowingly attracted the attention of piltover's finest, and now they'll do anything to make sure you're theirs. ( inspired by 'she' by tyler, the created ft. frank ocean )

warnings. dark content. fem!reader. reader isn't specified to be from piltover or zaun. stalking. slightly nsfw. established caitvi. allusions to murder but could also be just them scaring off said person. possessive!caitvi. abuse of power (on cait's part). commander!cait. unsolicited note & gift sending. staged meeting/slight savior complexes. pet names (r!receiving : darling, pretty girl, little bird, dear). reader is painfully oblivious. vouyerism. vi takes pictures of reader without her consent. pantie stealing & sniffing & alluded usage of stolen panties. wc. 2.3k

m.list. | arcane m.list.

‣ their little obsession starts out innocent. you're just a civilian, blending into the crowd around you, just another person going about their routine. but to caitlyn and vi you stood out. they didn't actively seek you out, you just happened to also be in the same places as they were at times, and they couldn't complain about that. often moving or forgetting what they were doing to see (follow) you a little longer.

‣ they agree that they've never been so sure about something before. you allure them in, like a flower temping a honey bee. someone so sweet, with such beauty that want, need you. they begin calling your theirs from then on.

‣ it turned sour when once again, out of coincidence you were in the same vicinity as vi, the pink haired woman quickly taking notice of you, her fingers hooking into her hood to pull it over and cover herself as she keeps a sweet distance behind you. not too far and not too close. the bustling streets get rowdier and vi gets thrown around a bit, picking up her pace and ramming her shoulder into who gets close to her, so she doesn't get whisked off into the frown and loses you. she groans when out of nowhere a brutish man blocks her view, putting her scuffed hand on his arm, mumbling something out about needing somewhere to be (a lie), and just within those few moments of vi’s watchful eye on you you've presumably arrived at your destination, a restaurant. she sighs and takes post near by, but as quickly as she was resting, slumped against some wall, her posture straightens out. fist fighting at her side, her teeth begging to grind, hard enough she'd snap her jaw off. you've met up with a woman, and said woman has her hands on you, pulling you into a hug. a glare bores into the mystery woman's head. if vi had glared any harder she's sure beams would've shot out her eyes and straight into her head.

‣ since then, the couple had made sure to purposely watch you. no more coincidences or hopeful wishes that they'd see you a few times out of their week. now they see you every chance they can get. and at this point they're getting bolder, more risky with how they watch you. inching closer and closer into your space as they follow you just to get a whiff of your shampoo, or perfume. going into the same places as you instead of watching from outside. frequenting the same places you frequent and learning your favorites, caitlyn has gone as far, as asking for the same drink as you one time when she was standing behind you in a small cafe. they're even begin starting to work out your relationships with people, keeping tabs on them too. and oh, you haven't seen that one friend in awhile.

‣ caitlyn begins to abuse her power as commander to find and dig through your findings. memorizing your stats; height, weight, hair color, eye color, blood type, ect. she got caught once snooping through your files by a subordinate and quickly sorted herself out, clearing her throat out and making up some lie about needing a file on a stillwater escapee. waving your file at them and briskly walking past them saying that she’ll be in her office, when she's really taking that file home with her.

‣ they’d even begin sending you notes and gifts. notes that read along the lines as “you look beautiful today.” “loved the new hairstyle, did it just for us?” “one day you'll see that you were made for us.” and the gifts are usually items they'd watch you eye in shops or things they'd think you'd like based off of your other preferences, like clothing, books, a new bag, that expensive new technology device you've been saving up for since your old one broke, and of course the classic flowers and chocolate. and they can't lie when they're hurt whenever you come home or open your door to one of their notes or gifts that you have a horrified look on your face, frantically looking around to see you could've given it to you, and vi in particular is hurt whenever she watches you throw out the chocolates she picked for you.

‣ despite all of this, they still have yet to formally meet you, although they're sure you know of them. but they can't simply introduce themselves, they have to make it look natural. accidental and like you needed them. they've learned your entire routine just for a moment like this.

you had just finished up grocery shopping. the sun was just finishing up with rising fully within the sky. you enjoyed going first thing when the store opens to dismiss the morning rush that happens by the time you're bagging your items and leaving. as you're making your way home, your head peeks from over the brown paper bags in your arms to watch where you're walking.

it's quick and sudden, the catch of something on your foot. knowing what's next, so you close your eyes preparing for impact against the ground. at least your groceries will cushion your fall, but not without ruining them underneath your weight.

except you don't and your body stays slanted still at a degree. peeking an eye open you're met with a pink haired woman, she looks familiar, but you can't put your finger on her name. you're reminded of the groceries in your arms from the crinkle of the bags, and they feel lighter in your arms. her hands are placed over your groceries, and there's also a pair of hands on you, but on your waist? who's the person behind you?

“are you alright?” the woman in front of you asks, her voice is low and comforting.

it happens swifty, the woman in front and the person behind you working to place you back upright on your feet. and you're dazed when she also takes most of the bags from your arms.

“she asked you a question, darling.” you twist around at the sound of a new voice, the person from behind you presume, and it's. . . british? upon turning around you're met with the fall figure of commander kiramman, and on instinct you're standing a little straighter.

“c—commander kiramman,” you splutter out. “i’m, uh, i’m okay.” looking down you adjust the bags in your arms, just for caitlyn to swoop down and take them in her arms, and within them, the bags no longer look as big as they did in your arms. “thank you, for, em, catching me from falling to my doom.” you let out a light laugh at the end, trying to make light of your embarrassing situation and to ignore that you're flushed, thankful for the cool morning air against the warmth of your sizzling body.

“it's no problem, really. we hate to see a pretty girl get hurt.” the pink woman smiles. oh! that's when it clicks.

“you're vi!” you enthuse, feeling a sense of pride that you were able to remember her name, you knew she seemed familiar. feeling a little silly it didn't click sooner since she's so recognizable.

“i am,” her smile grows. “and you already know caitlyn.”

it feels like a game as you bounce your head from one woman to the other, but now your attention lies on caitlyn. “no more calling me commander kiramman. no need for formalities, you can just call me caitlyn.” she hums, correcting her name for you.

yet your wide eyes stay strained up at her, “but would it not be respectful to call you commander?”

caitlyn’s exterior remains collected, only vi catching the way cait’s eye slightly twitches, your worries for calling her by her correct title is cute and sends a jolt straight to her cunt.

“like i said, no need for that. calling me caitlyn is perfectly respectful. alright, little bird?”

they both refrain from voicing their distaste of your nod at cait’s words.

it's quiet for a moment, the three of you just looking between each other and you realize both of them still have your groceries in their arms. “oh! i can take my groceries now.”

they both look at you like you'd just grown another head from your neck.

“don't be silly. you should've seen how looked trying to carry all of these bags—”

cait cuts vi off, “you looked comically cute.”

a part of you doesn't really know how to take that they thought you looked funny trying to carry your groceries, but at least they thought you were cute. “i normally don't have that many bags,” that was something they already knew. “but today they had some great deals i couldn't pass up on.” oh, gee, they wonder who tipped off the owner to have such deals.

“well that's great, dear. but what we're trying to get at is that, we want to assist you with your groceries.” caitlyn clarifies, eyes flickering down to her girlfriend.

“so, we’ll carry them. keeping you from stumbling by trying to balance it all in your arms. and you show us the way to your place.” vi finishes, although they already knew the route to your home with their eyes closed.

this isn't something that you'd agree to, but it's vi and commander kiramman, or caitlyn, and that automatically makes you trust them. agreeing to their offering and placing yourself ahead, beginning to walk your way home, and they follow, missing the way they wickedly smile at each as they just perfectly wormed their way into your life.

‣ since meeting you they've become even further unhinged. while caitlyn has duties that distract her from her habits of watching you, vi has complete free will to watch you whenever she'd like. her favorite is when cait is working late, instead of being alone at the estate, she’ll take post at a spot close to you place, to her it's the perfect spot, having a view into your home, able to see as you go from room to room, even your bedroom. both you and her are thankful that your windows don't really point anywhere, so you're comfortable enough to keep you blinds open most of the time and vi is able to watch as you leisure around, cook, clean, when you're fresh from a shower, still damp and drying off your body with your towel. she's seen it all, she's seen you all, in your most vulnerable state when you touch yourself, fingers trailing between your pretty thighs to play with your cunt. vi wishes she could hear the gasp, whines, and moans of pleasure that fall from your lips, but right now the best she can do is capture pictures.

bonus

‣ they're both desperate for you, the run ins, pictures, files, watching you isn't getting them what they need. but they both know that it isn't time to act just yet. so, cait request for vi to break into your home one night, a night they know you'll be out with some friends, to steal a few pairs of your panties. something small that'll take the edge off for a little while. luckily it had been a warm few days and a window in your bedroom was cracked, so vi welcomed herself in as she slid the window open wider so she could slip in. already having the layout of your bedroom memorized as she makes her way to your dresser, opening the first drawer to behold where you keep your socks, bras, and panties. she diligently scours through the stacks of panties, making sure to keep them all nice and tidy as you had them, picking out a few pairs that she and cait would like, mostly cotton, until she got to the bottom of the stacks where you kept your lace panties. she can only imagine that you got them for her and cait to look all pretty when they finally take you. there's a pretty lavender pair, it makes her wet thinking about you wearing them. vi brings them up to her nose, eyes rolling back as she sniffs the fabric, you've worn them before she can tell, they smell of you and your detergent. feeling a high, she promptly stuffs the various pairs of panties in her pockets and exits her way from your bedroom, leaving everything as it was when she came in. caitlyn and her will make great use of them.

and just a few days later cait gets a call from you, the exchange of numbers occurring that morning they helped you with your groceries. “what is it, darling. tell me.”

“it’s—” you pause, rethinking if you should've even called. “it's embarrassing, but i’m scared.” you whisper.

“i ensure you i’ve heard my fair share of things while on the job.”

“promise you won't laugh or call me crazy?”

“i promise.”

you sigh, gathering courage. “i have a stalker, or stalkers. i really don't know but they refer to themselves as 'us' and 'we' a lot.”

caitlyn leans back in her office chair, “oh, darling. i’m sorry to hear that.” faux concern is ridden in her tone. “have they been doing anything to you?” she already knows the answer to that, this is normally the time she'd take out her note pad and pen to make note of the report, but there's no need for that.

“yes. i feel foolish to not think much of it at first, i thought it would just fizzle out over time. but the notes, the gifts, they've gotten odder. and now—” you stop yourself.

“and now?”

you bite your lip, your heartbeat beats rapidly in your chest, it's loud bangs rattling throughout your body. “i think they've taken some of my panties.” you whisper that also, embarrassed to have to admit that.

caitlyn smirks against the phone. oh, you have no idea.

[kaylasartwork]

CONTENT WARNING: STALKING

A lot of brewskis have noticed my slow down these last few months and this is the major reason for it. Yes, a person at my work has been following me at the beginnings of my shifts and has not gotten any repercussion. I don't feel safe anymore. My partner and I are moving, but even still we don't feel comfortable with me working at that place, however it's difficult as I don't have a college degree and this place pays more than most jobs around here.

We have some plans in place, but I'm financially struggling. I hate to do this, but I created a ko-fi to help with relocation and to help stifle some of the burden of quitting this job. All the money would go towards things like rent, groceries, and car payments. I do have a Patreon, but it isn't bringing in enough to help with this issue and I'm debating about deleting it due to me not being able to keep up with things over there.

Anything helps, but don't donate if you can't---reading this and sharing it will be a massive help still <3

[t4kalcvr]

MIRA CAN’T KNOW

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐉𝐀 word count :: ( 6,231 ) genre :: forbidden romance, && secret desire. content contains :: moderately spicy ending, acrobatic + designer reader, manipulation, temptation, infatuation, stalking mentioned (?), big sister mira. PART TWO ! PART THREE

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

the sun was beginning to melt behind the city skyline, casting long, amber shadows over the quiet rooftops of seoul. golden hour made the steel beams glow like fire, and the concrete below softened in color — almost like the city was finally exhaling.

you moved with the air.

your fingertips pressed into the edge of the railing as your knees bent, weight shifting forward, and then —

a clean vault over the rooftop ledge.

your body arched, twisted midair, and landed silently on the next building, just above the park. you didn’t stumble. you never did. the soles of your sneakers caught the impact without a sound, years of acrobatic training whispering through your muscles.

you moved like water. fast when needed, invisible when still.

no one ever looked up.

from where you crouched, the scene below unfolded like a movie — soundless, distant, almost unreal. a small public performance stage had been set up in the park’s center, ringed by fans, press, and a wall of perfectly disguised security.

the saja boys were here.

you’d never seen them before. not in person. not up close.

you adjusted your footing on the metal beam, crouching lower behind an aging ventilation pipe. just enough to be fully concealed, but still have a clear view. the park lights were flickering on one by one as the stage crew rushed to finalize the setup.

and there they were.

five boys — tall, sharp silhouettes against the fading light, stepping onto the platform with practiced ease. the crowd erupted as music kicked in, a polished mix of synth and bass that vibrated through the rooftops under your fingertips.

you didn’t know their names.

you didn’t need to.

mira had told you: observe only.

do not engage.

you were plan b — their shadow on the rooftop, her eyes where she couldn’t be.

huntr/x had been asked to attend the performance publicly, to keep tabs on the newcomers. official reports called the saja boys “industry rising stars.” private files called them “unknown entities with potential corrupted energy signatures.”

mira called them dangerous.

and still — there they were, dancing like it was nothing. like they were just idols.

you tilted your head slightly, watching them move with perfect synchronicity. everything about them was clean, intentional, captivating — but not in the way regular idol groups were. no, this felt too exact. the lines in their choreography snapped like symbols being drawn midair. there was power in the way their limbs sliced through space.

you narrowed your eyes.

you weren’t trained to judge music.

you were trained to read tension.

and something — something in the way the tallest one pivoted — something in the way the boy with silver rings on every finger held his final pose —

it didn’t sit right.

you reached slowly into your jacket pocket, pulling out the small sealed charm mira had given you before you left. a flat gold disk etched with protective lines. a warning tool.

you held it under the ledge, hidden from view.

no glow.

no shift.

nothing.

but your gut…

your gut twisted anyway.

you pressed a hand to the cool rooftop to center yourself, breathing in through your nose. the scent of summer rain still clung to the concrete from yesterday’s storm. in the distance, the cheers swelled again as the music shifted into their final set.

your eyes tracked every step. every turn. every expression.

you weren’t here to be amazed.

you weren’t here to be impressed.

you were here because if something went wrong —

you would be the one to jump first.

you adjust your earpiece with one hand, fingers still curled around the golden charm in your pocket. the cheers below are deafening now — echoing off every surface and vibrating through the soles of your feet like thunder with a beat drop.

“update?” rumi’s voice comes through first. smooth. composed. a little crackly from static.

“anything abnormal in their aura signatures?”

“visuals look clean,” you whisper, low enough not to be picked up by any stray rooftop mics. “no glows. no pulses. their choreo’s tight, like… almost too tight. kinda creepy.”

“aw, i like creepy,” zoey chirps in, her voice cutting into the line like a can of soda being popped open. “creepy’s cool. like spooky hot. how’s their footwork, though? would you call it advanced or like… aggressively mediocre?”

“why does that matter,” mira mutters in the background. you can already hear the tired pinched edge in her voice. “this isn’t a dance competition, it’s a reconnaissance mission—”

“everything’s a dance competition if you believe in it hard enough,” zoey says immediately.

you bite back a small laugh and shift your weight, glancing down at the stage again.

they’re halfway through the final track now. you think it’s called soda pop. catchy, hyper-processed — the kind of song that would get stuck in your head for days whether you liked it or not.

you reach for the tiny tablet strapped to your forearm, logging each formation and energy reading, when the lights flash white-blue and the beat dips low, and then—

he steps forward.

the teal-haired one.

from this distance, he’s just a silhouette at first — low shoulders, relaxed stance, mic angled up toward his mouth. the crowd screams before he even says a word.

you blink.

then he starts rapping.

smooth. effortless. his voice is like carbonated sugar with a sharp afterbite — fast, clear, but slurred in the cool, cocky way that drips off the stage like syrup. he moves like he doesn’t care who’s watching, but every gesture is deliberate. one ringed hand tugs his jacket sleeve down mid-line, and it’s the kind of detail that shouldn’t matter, and yet your stomach flips anyway.

he throws a wink at the crowd, tongue flashing.

the fans lose their minds.

and for a second — just a breath — you forget where you are.

you forget why you’re here.

you don’t realize you’ve stopped writing until your tablet dims. your heartbeat thuds louder than the bass. you don’t even notice you’re leaning a little too close to the ledge.

“y/n!”

you jerk back hard, nearly slipping.

mira’s voice explodes into your ear like a lightning strike.

“what the hell are you doing?! eyes on the target!”

you wince and duck lower. “i am! i was just—he’s—i—it’s fine!”

“you zoned out. on surveillance. during a mission.”

“it was like—five seconds.”

“five seconds is all it takes to get killed,” mira snaps.

“mira,” rumi’s voice cuts in, calm but firm. “ease off. we’re done here anyway.”

you blink. “done?”

“yup. readings are normal. nothing’s showing up on my scans. we know what they’re hiding but their performances are pretty flawless from a fans perspective.”

a pause. and then—

“head back to the apartment, y/n,” rumi continues. “upload what you have, finish the intel logs.”

another pause.

“also… those new concert outfits aren’t going to design themselves.”

you sigh, long and dramatic. “i knew you were gonna say that.”

“i always say that,” rumi replies, just a little smug.

“put something cool on mine this time!” zoey yells faintly in the background. “maybe zippers that actually function? or like—detachable sleeves! oh, oh—pockets that can hold snacks!”

“no snacks,” mira growls. “you’re already banned from eating onstage.”

you’re already backing away from the ledge, tucking your tablet into your satchel as your sneakers hit the gravel and your fingers graze the rusted edge of the fire escape. your body flows into the movement without thought — a clean drop, two light bounces off the scaffolding, a wide arc off a shipping container. you sprint through the narrow side streets, leaping over fences and low walls with ease, vaulting through the quiet alleys like muscle memory.

but despite how fast your body moves—

your mind doesn’t.

you keep seeing him.

that teal hair, messy but intentional. that voice. those rings.

the heat in your chest that shouldn’t be there. he’s not supposed to matter. he’s not even supposed to exist in your head.

but still—

you run faster.

as if you can outrun the thought of him.

by the time you make it back to the apartment, the sun has long since slipped beneath the skyline, and the air is warm in that oddly electric way it gets just before summer fully sinks in. the elevator dings open to the usual mess: mismatched shoes scattered by the door, half-unpacked gear bags in the hallway, and the soft hum of a noodle pot boiling on the stove.

“hey!” you call, toeing off your sneakers. “i’m back!”

zoey leans her head out from the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon at you like a wand. there’s a streak of chili oil across her cheek, and her micro bangs are stuck slightly to her forehead again.

“we thought you died!” she shouts, dramatically slumping against the counter. “mira was this close to summoning an exorcism just in case—”

“that’s not even a thing,” rumi says calmly, lounging on the couch with a stack of printed mission briefs balanced on one thigh. her long purple braid is wrapped in a loose spiral across her shoulder, nearly brushing the floor where she sits cross-legged.

“totally is,” zoey mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “if you believe hard enough.”

you grin, sliding your tablet out of your bag and placing it on the side table.

“don’t worry, i’m not haunting you just yet,” you joke. “i’m heading up to the rooftop. finishing your outfits while the wind’s good.”

you lift your sketchbook and gesture toward the ceiling.

“and no, zoey, i’m not adding snack pockets.”

“what’s the point of pants if they don’t hold candy,” she cries behind you as you head for the window hatch.

mira, who’s just stepped into the hallway and is brushing through her pink twin ponytails with a look of practiced precision, catches your gaze.

her eyes flick once to the sketchbook, then to you.

“just be careful,” she says, voice low.

you give her a small, crooked smile — not mocking, not rebellious. just… fond.

“i know,” you promise.

then, with a quick backward sprint, you launch yourself out the open window frame — flip once, land silently on the adjacent ledge, and scale the pipe-ladder with the grace of someone who could do it blindfolded.

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

the rooftop is your favorite place in the city.

the breeze dances around your shoulders like a scarf. the city’s noise dulls just enough to make it feel far away. above you, the sky is cracked open with stars, some still blurry behind the neon haze, but beautiful anyway.

your sketchbook lies open across your lap, pages dotted with incomplete designs — angled seams for rumi, flashy detailing for zoey, a more practical two-piece for mira. you’re halfway through finalizing their under-stage reinforced lining when your mind drifts again.

you don’t mean to.

but there he is again.

the teal-haired boy.

his voice, slick like soda fizz.

his movement, cocky and fluid.

his smirk.

you sigh, dragging your pencil across the paper in a lazy arc. not even the fabric kind. just a curve. possibly a mistake.

“get it together,” you whisper to yourself, erasing the line with a small, frustrated shake of your head.

but then—

you pause.

there’s a flicker.

not from the lights. not from your sketchbook. from the far corner of the rooftop — a shadow shifting against the grain of moonlight.

you freeze. slowly close your sketchbook. fingers slide toward your belt, brushing the carved silver handle clipped at your hip.

another flicker. this one faster.

closer.

your breath goes shallow. a cold tingle slips down your spine. you draw the weapon in a single movement — the sickle forming in your palm with a low hum, the blade igniting in that familiar, fierce glow — deep, glowing blue.

then the shadow drops in front of you.

you leap back, weapon raised, ready to swing—

until a hand catches your wrist. another hand presses gently — firmly — over your mouth.

your eyes widen, but the scream never leaves your throat.

he’s here.

the boy.

up close now, he’s taller than you expected. even in the half-light, his teal hair is unmistakable — windswept and messy in a way that almost feels intentional. there’s a single chain earring glinting in one ear, and his smile — crooked, easy — feels like trouble you forgot to lock your door against.

“shhh,” he whispers, leaning in just slightly.

“you’re gonna wake the whole city.”

his hand is warm over your mouth. not rough. but steady. steady enough that your heart hammers against your ribs like it’s trying to climb out.

your sickle stays raised.

his eyes flick to it, amused.

“woah,” he murmurs, clearly impressed. “a glowing sickle. that’s hot.”

you narrow your eyes.

he drops his hand from your mouth slowly.

you don’t scream.

but you don’t lower your blade either.

he grins wider.

“you’re cuter when you don’t yell.”

your eyes meet his, and for a moment—just a flicker of heartbeats—you forget to breathe.

up close, he’s even more unreal than he was on stage. the sharpness of his jawline, the faint sheen of sweat along his collarbone, the glint of a silver ring between two fingers. he looks like he stepped straight out of a dream manufactured for troublemakers with too much charm and not enough restraint.

and for a second, you let yourself stare.

just one second.

and then—

you swing.

your body whips into motion with no hesitation, sickle slicing in a fast, bright arc aimed right for his side. he steps back at the perfect angle, like he saw it coming from a mile away. the blade cuts the air where his ribs were just seconds ago.

“okay, okay,” he laughs, both hands raised now. “so that’s a no on the kiss?”

you lunge forward again.

this time he flips back, landing light on the balls of his feet, that same grin still painted across his mouth. he’s not even winded. cocky bastard.

“you’re fast,” he says, watching you circle him. “and flexible. i like that.”

“i hate that,” you snap back, launching a low swing at his legs. “stop talking like you’re impressed.”

“but i am,” he says, ducking the blade with a graceful pivot. “and not just by the weapon, though i gotta say—blue glow? dramatic. kind of a vibe.”

you exhale through your nose, annoyed. not because you’re missing—but because he keeps dodging like it’s a game. and it shouldn’t be.

“i know what you are,” you hiss, flipping your grip and aiming high this time, blade angled for his neck. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

he laughs again, voice syrup-smooth.

“oh no, i’ve been exposed,” he gasps, clutching his chest like you just insulted his whole existence. “what gave me away? the hair? the stage presence? my devastatingly good looks?”

“the energy signature, genius.”

your blade crackles as it cuts close again, barely grazing his shoulder. he doesn’t flinch.

“you’re leaking corrupted aura like it’s your cologne.”

“ah. so it is working.”

he flashes a grin like you just complimented him.

you lunge, but he dodges again, this time spinning behind you with infuriating ease. his breath brushes your ear before he speaks.

“so tell me, little rooftop spy…”

his voice drops to a whisper.

“you always come this high up just to stare at demons?”

you twist fast, elbow swinging, but he ducks with a laugh.

“you’re impossible,” you growl.

“i prefer charming,” he replies, stepping onto the ledge like he’s weightless.

“but impossible works too.”

you raise your sickle again, eyes narrowed.

“you’re dangerous.”

he tilts his head, mock-offended.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“it is.”

his eyes gleam.

“then why haven’t you killed me yet?”

you freeze for half a second. your grip doesn’t loosen—but something in your chest pulses strangely. not fear. not yet. something sharper. curiosity, maybe. or the beginning of something you’re not ready to name.

he leans in, still out of reach, still grinning.

“or maybe…” he says, voice soft like static,

“you’re just a little curious, too.”

you grit your teeth.

“you talk too much.”

“i get that a lot.”

you swing again, harder this time — sickle arching clean through the air — but baby shifts just enough that your blade misses by inches. your momentum pulls you forward and suddenly—

his hand catches your wrist again.

your feet slide on the rooftop gravel.

his other hand steadies your waist.

and just like that—

you’re chest to chest.

he’s holding you in place, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. not with force. not with fear. just… familiarity. like he knew you’d end up like this.

your sickle glows between you, humming softly with energy. it casts a halo of blue light across his features — catching in the curve of his jaw, the corner of his grin, the ring on his middle finger. and god, he’s close. close enough that you can see the sharp slant of his lashes, the faint scar on his chin, the heat in his eyes.

“you gonna keep swinging?” he asks, voice low, amused.

you don’t answer.

your chest rises and falls too fast. your hand is still gripped tight around the handle of your weapon, but for some reason… you’re not moving.

“i saw you,” he says next, and the tone shifts — softens, slightly. not cocky. just sure.

“back at the performance.”

your brows furrow.

“you didn’t—”

“on the rooftop,” he says, fingers still resting lightly at your side. “you thought you were hidden. you were good — quiet, clever. but i noticed. and i kept noticing.”

your mouth opens. then closes again.

he leans a little closer.

the smirk returns, but it’s not the same kind of grin as before. it’s slower. quieter. it slips into you like a song you didn’t mean to memorize.

“you looked at me,” he murmurs.

“not like the others do. not like the screaming fans or the panicked scouts. not like you wanted to figure me out or take me down.”

his gaze flicks down to your lips — just for a second.

“you looked at me like you wanted to understand me. and that…”

his voice dips even softer,

“that’s how rumi looks at jinu.”

your eyes widen.

he smiles wider.

“i know that look. i’ve seen it. a hundred times.”

“it’s not like that,” you snap, but your voice betrays you — tight, uncertain. you try to pull back, but he’s still holding your wrist. your sickle flares a little brighter, like it’s trying to warn you.

or maybe just remind you what he is.

he tilts his head, teasing again.

“no?” he whispers.

“then why are you still here?”

your heart is slamming against your ribs. you want to shove him off.

you want to run. you want to scream, but your legs won’t move.

not yet.

“i could be wrong,” he says gently, eyes never leaving yours,

“but i don’t think you really want to kill me.”

and in the space between your silence—

he leans in even closer.

“i think…you’re just scared of what it’d mean if you didn’t try.”

your fingers curl tighter around your sickle, but it’s not raised anymore. your arm’s gone slack between the two of you, caught somewhere between defense and surrender. you don’t remember leaning in. it just… happens. like gravity — slow, certain, inevitable.

he’s so close you can feel the warmth of him, the ghost of breath on your skin.

your eyes flick down to his lips, just once, and something flutters wild in your chest.

he watches you.

not with hunger.

with certainty.

like this moment was always going to happen.

you tilt your head slightly, breath catching, lips parting as the space between you thins to a single inhale—

when—

“y/n!”

the voice cuts clean through the rooftop haze, sharp and familiar, drifting up through the half-open window just below.

you jolt back.

hard.

baby doesn’t flinch. he just lifts an eyebrow, amused, as you pivot slightly toward the edge.

“what?” you shout down, heart still thudding.

“there’s dinner in the fridge,” mira calls, her voice a little softer now, casual in that way she tries too hard to sound normal.

“don’t stay out too late.”

you glance down at the rooftop hatch like it might betray you.

“okay,” you call back, shifting awkwardly.

a beat.

then, from below again:

“and be careful.”

your lips twitch.

you swallow, nodding once — more to yourself than anything.

“i will,” you murmur.

baby’s eyes are still on you.

there’s something unreadable there now — a mix of mischief and heat, sure, but something quieter too. something sharper. like he’s memorizing you in the half-light, filing you away between lives.

“this is dangerous,” you say quietly, still not looking at him.

“you know that, right? this—us? we’re not compatible. i’m supposed to kill you.”

he hums, stepping closer again, slow and unafraid.

“there are very few things i want in my… ‘life,’” he adds air quotes with a sly curl of his fingers, “and you just happen to be one of them.”

you exhale sharply, caught between a scoff and a shiver.

“you’re not serious.”

“i’ve never been more serious,” he says, voice lower now. velvet around something darker.

he steps into your space again, and this time, you don’t stop him.

he leans in — not for a kiss — but closer, deeper, until his nose brushes the edge of your jaw, trailing gently down to the soft curve of your neck. you freeze, breath halting entirely as his lips don’t quite touch you — but his skin does. warm and real and wrong.

he inhales like your scent is something he’s been waiting centuries for.

“you smell like jasmine and chaos,” he murmurs, voice roughened now with something hungrier.

“it’s driving me insane.”

his nose grazes just beneath your ear, and your eyes flutter shut for a half-second too long.

this is a mistake.

a huge mistake.

but god, your legs won’t move.

you should move.

you should step back, raise your weapon, do something. but all you can do is stand there — frozen and burning from the inside out — as his breath ghosts along your neck like a secret you were never supposed to hear.

he’s close. too close. so close you feel the slow drag of his inhale, the careful tilt of his jaw as his nose brushes along the edge of your collarbone, as if committing the scent of your skin to memory. the contact isn’t even fully skin-to-skin — it’s featherlight. maddeningly soft. but it scorches all the same.

“you’re trembling,” he whispers, voice smooth as a sin he wants you to enjoy.

you suck in a breath and force your body to stiffen, as if that will make this easier. as if pretending your heart isn’t trying to punch a hole through your chest will make it true.

“i’m not trembling,” you mutter, eyes locked ahead, not daring to meet his.

he huffs a soft, amused sound against your neck — a little exhale that makes your stomach twist in a slow, tight knot.

“no?” he murmurs. “then what’s this, sweetheart?”

his hand, warm and ungloved, gently skims your side — from the slope of your hipbone up to the outer curve of your ribcage — not quite touching anything too intimate, but close enough that your breath catches again. you tell yourself it’s the wind. the rooftop chill. not him.

“this isn’t going to work,” you say quietly. the words tumble out flat, forced.

“you can flirt all you want, but i’m not falling for it.”

“for what, exactly?” he asks, tilting his head to look at you fully now. “my charm? my smile? my obvious disregard for your murderous intentions?”

he grins, slow and wicked, like he knows exactly how your nerves are unraveling. and when your eyes — finally, finally — meet his again, there’s something dangerous in his gaze. not because it threatens violence. but because it promises softness. sweetness. intimacy.

“i’m not supposed to want this,” you whisper, barely able to admit it even now. “you’re—”

you swallow.

“you’re a demon.”

“mm,” he hums, stepping even closer. your sickle is still in your hand, but it’s lowered. limp. forgotten.

“and yet, here you are. letting me touch you. letting me get this close.”

he leans down again, brushing the tip of his nose against your jaw, slower this time. more deliberate. your lips part without permission, your breath growing shallow.

“you can keep telling yourself you hate this,” he whispers.

“but your body tells me something different.”

his hand trails lower — not groping, never forceful — just grazing the curve of your waist like he’s tracing a line he already drew in a dream. your skin tingles in his wake. the glow of your sickle dims slightly in your grip, no longer burning, no longer fighting. even it doesn’t know what to do with this moment.

“i could ruin you,” you murmur.

“you could try.”

his lips are so close now, you feel the shape of his smile against your cheek.

“but you won’t. not yet.”

his nose brushes along your temple now, slow and reverent, and for a second — just one second — his lips barely graze the shell of your ear.

“tell me to stop,” he breathes.

you don’t. you should. but you don’t.

his face hovers a breath away from yours.

you can feel it — the next second, the next movement. if you just leaned a little closer, it would happen. lips would brush. breath would tangle. boundaries would break. it would be warm and soft and dangerous in ways neither of you can walk back from.

and for a moment… your body considers it. your eyes fall half-lidded. your lips twitch slightly, the air between you charged with something thick and unspoken.

but then—

you lift your hand.

and gently — but firmly — you cover his mouth.

“stop,” you whisper, barely more than a breath.

his eyes lock onto yours. his expression doesn’t change. but the energy between you shifts. it doesn’t die — not even close. it lingers, heavy and present, like fog that refuses to burn off.

you slowly step back, just enough to reclaim your breath, though your hand still rests between his lips and your heart.

“if you keep doing this,” you say, quietly, evenly, “you’re going to get killed.”

he blinks — once — but doesn’t pull away.

“if not by me… then by one of the girls.” your voice tightens slightly. “rumi. zoey. mira. they’ll see you as a threat — because that’s what you are.”

your fingers tremble, even as you lower your hand from his face.

“so whatever this is…” you murmur, gesturing between your bodies, your tangled energy, the lingering heat of his breath on your skin,

“it can’t happen. not if you want to survive it.”

and for the first time tonight — you see something flicker in his eyes. something that might be… disappointment. not dramatic. not cruel. just quiet. quiet in the way a song ends too soon, or a goodbye is whispered instead of spoken aloud.

you take a step back.

but then—

he takes two steps forward.

his hand lifts — not to grab — but to gently take your wrist, guiding your hand back to his chest. right over his heartbeat. it’s steady. strong. real.

“i know,” he says, and his voice has changed — softer now. less teasing. still warm, still magnetic, but shaded with something real.

“i know how this ends.”

his thumb brushes along the inside of your wrist — slow, deliberate — and then he leans in again. not all the way. not kissing. but his forehead nearly rests against yours.

“maybe it ends with you slicing me open. maybe i disappear before you ever get the chance. maybe we never see each other again after tonight.”

you close your eyes, exhaling shakily.

“then why?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “why even start?”

his nose grazes yours again, gentle. intimate. his voice drops even lower, like a secret meant only for the air between your skin.

“because not all temptations are meant to be resisted.”

you feel your chest twist painfully. the worst part is — you want to believe him.

you want to lean forward again.

you want to forget the way mira said be careful.

you want to pretend your mission was never to end creatures like him.

“even if we’re destined to fall apart,” he murmurs, “don’t you think it’s worth it to know what it feels like before we do?”

his breath brushes your lips again. and he smiles — not cocky, not cruel. hopeful.

“i’ll take every second you give me.”

“even if it ends in flame.”

you know what this is.

you’re not stupid. you’ve studied demons your whole life — in theory, in combat, in field missions beside your sister and the rest of HUNTR/X. you know how they operate. how they twist what’s tender, how they take the things you crave and make you believe they’re offering them — when really, they’re only taking what they want in return.

and still, your hands don’t move.

you let him touch you.

you let him speak in that voice that dips just low enough to sound like a secret pressed into your skin. you let his eyes linger on your mouth, your pulse, your silence.

you should resist him.

because you know his sweetness is just a weapon sharpened with want.

because you know the way he looks at you is practiced, perfect, and poisonous.

but you also know the worst part.

the part that terrifies you more than his teeth or claws or corrupted aura.

the truth that’s been sitting heavy in your chest since the rooftop, since the concert, since the first second you saw him step into the spotlight—

is that even before he noticed you, you couldn’t stop watching him.

that one moment.

you were supposed to be tracking heat signatures, eyes darting between the Saja boys’ formations. and yet, your gaze kept falling to him.

the flick of his fingers through his hair.

the way he glanced at the crowd like he owned it.

you’ve been carrying that moment with you all day.

like a splinter you don’t want to pull out.

your breath hitches as you close the distance again. your fingers twitch at your sides, uncertain, restless.

“mira can’t know,” you whisper, eyes fixed on his. your voice barely comes out.

it’s not just a warning.

it’s a plea. a prayer. a promise to yourself that this is just one night, one mistake, one weakness you won’t let grow.

his response is quiet, immediate.

“she won’t.”

and that’s all he says.

he doesn’t push. doesn’t beg.

but his grip on your waist tightens — warm, eager, a silent please.

you lean in.

inch by inch. breath by breath.

your chest brushes his. your nose skims past his cheek. your hand, somehow, finds the fabric of his jacket, gripping lightly just to keep your balance.

he exhales, soft and shaky — the first sign of urgency he’s shown all night.

and then—

his mouth is on yours.

it’s not gentle. it’s not slow. it’s desperate.

his lips part against yours like he’s been starving and only just now realized what he needed to survive. his hand slips to the small of your back, pulling you flush to him, and your fingers tighten in the fabric at his chest. your heart slams against your ribcage like it wants out — like it wants into him.

he kisses like he’s trying to burn himself into your memory.

and you let him.

because you’re not strong enough to stop.

not tonight.

his mouth moves against yours like he already knows your rhythms — not rushed, not forced, but starved. his kiss deepens, and suddenly, everything else falls away. the rooftop, the city, your mission, your sister’s warnings — they all dissolve into the blur of heat and fingertips and breath caught between two people who shouldn’t be touching but can’t seem to stop.

his hands are everywhere — in your hair, along your jaw, pressing into the curve of your lower back, sliding beneath the fabric at your sides. and you… you touch back. your fingers roam over the ridges of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the soft warmth just beneath his shirt where he burns.

you’ve never wanted like this before.

not with this kind of ache. not with this kind of pull.

you feel like you’re coming apart beneath his touch, unraveling thread by thread — and the terrifying part is, you don’t want him to stop.

his lips trail lower, grazing your jaw, the soft dip beneath your ear, and when he murmurs your name against your skin, it sounds like worship. like something sacred, even from a demon.

you shouldn’t be letting him do this.

you know better.

you know how demons work — seductive, cunning, patient when they want to be. you know they slip beneath your skin and make you think the want is your own.

you try to convince yourself that’s what’s happening.

that this is all manipulation.

but then his hand gently drags along the hem of your shirt — a question. a whisper of permission without words.

you freeze.

you’re going to say no.

you should say no.

but you don’t.

instead, you look into his eyes — and he’s not smirking. not teasing. not playful. he’s just there.

silent. breathless. waiting.

and some tiny voice in your head, distant and breathless, wonders—

why not?

just once.

just tonight.

if this is all there is — if this moment is the only one you’ll ever steal for yourselves —

why not go all the way?

so you nod.

and that’s all it takes.

his hands move with reverence, slow and careful as he starts peeling the fabric away from your skin. the night air brushes along your collarbone. your shirt slips from one shoulder. his lips follow. it’s maddening. it’s everything.

you close your eyes as he kisses lower.

and just when it starts to feel like you’ve completely let go —

like your heartbeat is synced to his,

like maybe your soul is too far gone to call back—

you hear it.

a sound.

not from him.

not from you.

a creak from the stairwell.

your eyes snap open.

baby freezes, lips still pressed to your shoulder.

you freeze. you think for a moment — just a beat — that someone’s found you. that the world has crashed through the rooftop and dragged reality back into your chest.

but nothing happens.

no footsteps. no voices. no more creaking stairwell.

just silence. just breath. just him.

his lips still hover against your shoulder, warm and unmoving, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do. if you’ll pull away. if you’ll take the out you almost imagined was there.

but you don’t.

because that moment of fear is gone.

and all that’s left…

is this.

his breath returns to your skin first. slow, controlled, trembling at the edges. then his hand slides higher up your spine, curling into your hair, anchoring you to him like he’s afraid you’ll fade away if he lets go.

“you’re sure?” he whispers, voice low and raw — stripped of all his usual charm, all his practiced flirtation.

you don’t answer right away.

you just turn your face to his. and there’s no fear in your eyes now. no logic. no excuses.

“yeah,” you breathe.

“just… don’t make me regret it.”

his mouth is on yours again — deeper this time. slower. hungrier.

you feel it in the way he holds you now — not just to pull you close, but to devour you. like he’s been starving and finally, finally, someone let him taste fire.

your shirt slips fully off your shoulders. his hands trace every new inch of skin like it’s sacred. and yours do the same, slipping beneath the hem of his jacket, feeling the warmth beneath the chaos. his chest rises hard against yours. every breath is sharper now. every touch a little more desperate.

you don’t know when your legs moved — but they’re tangled with his now. the rooftop is warm beneath your back. the stars above blur and swirl and mean absolutely nothing.

his name escapes your lips in a whisper. not the demonic name you know. just him.

just baby.

and in the back of your mind, you know what this is.

you know what he is.

you know what you are.

and still —

you don’t stop.

because something inside you wants to see how far this will go.

you’ve already crossed the line.

already given in to temptation.

already let yourself fall into the thing you were trained to destroy.

so why not keep falling?

his mouth drags down your throat, hot and careful and needing, and your fingers tangle into his hair. your body arches into his without thought. without hesitation.

you stop thinking about consequences.

you stop thinking about the mission.

the lies.

the danger.

you stop thinking about what happens when the sun comes up.

because right now — in this breath, in this heat —

you just want.

and he wants too.

with hands that don’t want to let go.

with lips that speak nothing but yes.

with a body that fits against yours like it’s always belonged here.

so you let it happen.

you let yourselves be selfish.

you let yourselves burn.

and somewhere, tangled between his mouth and your heartbeat, you realize—

you’re not going to stop.

not tonight.

copyright © t4kalcvr 2025 all rights reserved

💬, help, hes so fine 😭 im sorry if this doesn’t seem like his character type but I TRIED. he’s jus so cute and fluffy but i read some fics on him and you know since hes a demon he’d be a very handsy manipulative demon boi 😋 anyways enjoyyyyy and if theres any requests please dont be afraid to make em !!

ko-fi 🎧

permanent 🔖 : @sukunasrealgf @sinamew

next suggested read : the game we never meant to win (baby saja)

look here for more reads 📚 !

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT SILLY PROJECT OF YOURS, YOU JUST WANT SOME DICK."

[ { SYNOPSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { NEED TO KNOW } ] ➤ This fic was originally written & published on Wattpad but due to multiple complications, I’ve decided to upload it here.

[ { CONTENT } ] ➤ Each chapter is rather lengthy & the entirety of this fiction exceeds at least 90k words and counting. There are plenty of sexual themes & smut within this story so please proceed with caution.

[ { WARNINGS } ] ➤ fem!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, alcohol, college non-curse au, toxic altercations & interactions, heavy blackmail, hints of; obsession, possessiveness, & stalking. Violence, whore activities, gen z references, & above all; 18+ themes.

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ { DISCLAIMER } ] ➤ Please do not come to me with comparisons of this story to any other out there. I usually don’t mind but there are specific books out there that this tale has been oddly compared to in the past &, it’s caused complications & unnecessary drama. As such, enjoy tfl for what it is, pls & ty.

❥ Chapters !

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56.5.

Extras.

In case you’re confused, here’s a breakdown of this fic.

Hope you enjoy!

|| @kamiversee || ff status; complete ||

[hatethysinner]

if you take little prompts, could i propose a jealous remmick drabble with a breeding kink? 👀

"I’m gonna fill you up, make sure you carry somethin of me forever"

ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

ᴡᴄ: 6.9k (i giggled too)

ᴀ/ɴ: the title choice... if you know you know. anyways, i needed to get my freak on and god damn did i do just that. i adore fluff but sometimes i just can't say no to my pussy. please don't talk to me about the mental state i was in while writing this. i simply have no excuses, take me to horny jail. though i will say i feel WAY more confident about writing smut now. i think i should do these more often because it's kind of an outstanding way for me to stretch my legs if you will. THAT SOUNDS SO CRAZY LAMFJDJHVHBJDV but i even got over my fear of em dashes just a tiny bit. also, this was a combination of like 3 asks in 1 and you'll definitely SEE which ones i'm talking about when you check the warnings. anons, you know who you are!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ MDNI (!!!), filthy disgusting shameless smut, minimal plot all porn, exes, stalking, very rough sex, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spit kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, dumbification, sadism, masochism, choking, spanking, biting, dacryphilia, overstimulation, eye contact, drooling, cuckolding, infidelity, bloodplay, threats of violence, fantasizing about violence, graphic violence, murder, dark!dom!remmick, sub!fem!reader, reader is just as freaky, vague setting, excessive use of pet names, excessive use of italicization, read at your own discretion

The night was quiet. Too quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came with peace. Not the softness of contentment or rest. This was the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting. Like something pressed against the windows, unseen, watching the curve of your back as you moved through the hallway in your robe, your bare feet barely whispering against the floor.

You should’ve been asleep. But the bed felt too big tonight.

Your husband was out, running one of his rare late-night errands. Something about a friend’s stalled car, a favor owed. He’d apologized for leaving, pressed a kiss to your forehead, a hand brushing the side of your face like he always did. “Won’t be long,” he promised. “I hate sleeping without you.”

And he meant it. He always did. He was that kind of man.

You loved him. You did. He was good. Honest. Steady. The kind of man who brought home your favorite pastries without being asked, who offered to do the dishes before you even touched your plate. You didn’t marry him expecting fireworks. You married him because you were tired of chasing smoke.

But some nights, like tonight, you still missed the fire.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping lukewarm tea you’d already forgotten to drink, robe slipping off one shoulder. The tile was cool beneath your feet. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space like static, soft and constant.

And then, like it always did when you let your mind wander too far, the memory of him crept in.

Remmick.

A name you hadn’t spoken in years. A man you hadn’t touched in longer.

You cut him off like you were supposed to. You did it for your own good. Your sanity. Your future. But Lord, if there wasn’t something in the way he ruined you that no one else had been able to match since.

He didn’t beg. He didn’t need to. Just looked at you in that way that made your stomach knot and your thighs press together. He touched you like he was claiming something. Deep, slow, maddeningly precise. He didn’t fuck fast. He fucked full. He filled you, stretched you, split you open in ways that made you forget your own name. And when he looked at you—

God, when he looked at you.

It was like you were his favorite meal. His last drink. His only prayer.

Your husband never looked at you like that. He looked at you with kindness, sure. But never hunger. Never need. Never like you were something to be devoured.

You closed your eyes, set your mug down. The ache between your legs pulsed, low and steady, like a bruise remembered. You shouldn’t miss him. You shouldn’t want him.

But you did.

You always had.

And it had been so long since someone made you come the way Remmick used to. Effortlessly, endlessly, like he knew every part of you before you even touched yourself for the first time.

You shivered.

Outside, thunder rumbled low in the distance.

Somewhere, not nearly far enough, Remmick was still out there.

Waiting.

And, of course, it had to be tonight when he came.

The knock was sharp. Not loud. But sure. Like whoever stood behind that door knew you were already halfway toward it, breath stuck somewhere between your ribs. You froze in the hallway, mug still warm in your palm, heart already catching on a beat you hadn’t felt in years.

Three more taps followed. Firm. Even. Familiar.

You didn’t need to check the window. Didn’t need to ask who it was.

Your feet moved on their own.

When you opened the door, there he stood.

Remmick.

Older, sharper, polished like glass but dangerous like a blade. He leaned against the frame like he owned it, like he’d been here before and would be again. That light blue shirt was pressed clean, top buttons undone just enough to show a sliver of white undershirt and the chain you remembered. Gold, delicate, glinting faint in the porch light. Black slacks. A belt with a gold buckle. Suspenders hanging easy off his shoulders.

His hair was slicked back, still dark, still wild in places where the waves refused to be tamed. But it was his eyes, those deep sea-blue eyes, the unmistakable red glow, that made you forget how to breathe. That looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel.

He didn’t just see you.

He devoured you.

“Well, hey there, darlin’,” he said, low and slow and unmistakably him. He didn’t bother hiding the curve of his grin. Fangs bared. Sharp. Bright. Gorgeous.

Your pulse tripped over itself.

“What…” You swallowed. “What are you doin’ here?”

That smile stretched wider, lazier. He stepped forward just enough for the porch light to catch the edges of his collarbone, the hollow of his throat.

“Y’know damn well why I’m here.”

There wasn’t an ounce of shame in his voice. Not one drop of hesitation. Just velvet certainty, dragging you backward into something you’d spent years clawing your way out of. Something you never stopped missing.

You blinked at him, trying to level your tone. “My husband—”

“Ain’t here,” Remmick said quick and flat, like it was obvious. He glanced down the street. “Car’s gone. Bedroom light’s off. Not a single trace of that man in this house ‘cept that little ring you’re tryin’ to hide behind your fingers.”

You dropped your hand before you could stop yourself.

He tilted his head. “Still nervous, huh?”

“Remmick—”

“You alone?”

Your lips parted, but the truth had already settled between you like smoke. You knew the question was redundant. That he was simply trying to drive home the point.

“…Yeah.”

His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not exactly. Something darker. Warmer. Hungrier.

“Knew it,” he murmured. “Knew he didn’t know what to do with ya.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned forward, just a few inches, but it knocked the air right out of your lungs. The air between you changed. Heavy. Hot. Close. The kind of air that pulled your thighs tight and made your stomach knot with something sharp and sweet and old.

“Ya look beautiful,” he said, his eyes raking over you. “But y’knew that already.”

You should’ve closed the door. Should’ve told him to leave.

But you didn’t.

Remmick’s voice lowered, slow and syrup-thick. “Let me in.”

It wasn’t a question.

The muscles in your arms tensed, fingers still on the knob like you weren’t sure who you were anymore. Every part of you said no. But your body, your breath, your blood? All of it whispered yes.

He waited.

And waited.

His eyes burned into you, red flickering hotter now. Not loud, not angry. Just patient. Starved.

“I ain’t gonna ask again,” he said, voice soft, almost sweet. “Don’t make me beg, baby.”

Your throat went dry.

You didn’t shut the door.

You didn’t step back.

You didn’t even breathe.

“…Come in,” you said. Quiet. But clear.

And he did.

The moment he stepped inside, the door shut with a thud behind him.

Remmick laughed.

Not a sound you’d heard from him before. It wasn’t warm or familiar. It wasn’t charming or even cruel. It was cold. Final. Like something had been waiting, watching, for the moment you said Come in, and now that you had, it didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“You’re just as desperate as I remember,” he said, still smiling as his boots landed slow and heavy on the floor. “Knew y’would be.”

Before you could even blink, he had you. A searing kiss, full and crushing and greedy. No warning. No space to breathe. His hands gripped your jaw, thumbs pressing your cheeks, mouth sealing over yours like he’d gone too long without it.

You should’ve pulled away.

You should’ve shoved him off, reminded yourself of the ring still sitting on your finger.

But your lips parted.

Your breath caught.

And when his body pressed against yours—hard chest, long arms, belt buckle cold against your stomach—you melted into it with a sound that betrayed every shred of shame you still had left.

You hated how much you missed this.

How much you’d been starving, too.

Remmick’s hand slid down the front of your robe. He didn’t waste time. Not even a little. Fingers traced the curve of your stomach, the ridge of your hip, and then dipped between your thighs like he already knew what he’d find there.

When he felt how wet you were, he growled.

Actually growled.

“Slut,” he muttered, dragging his mouth along your cheek, jaw, ear. “My married girl, touchin’ herself to the thought of me. Makin’ them soft sounds every time y’say my name.”

You trembled.

“I heard ya,” he whispered, voice all breath and bite. “Every damn night. Ya don’t know how many times I nearly came through that window just to shut ya up the way ya wanted.”

His fingers were still there, not moving much, just resting. A threat. A promise.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your fingertips, in your thighs. Your robe slipped further open, the air cool against your chest where the silk parted.

“I didn’t—” you tried, but the words caught somewhere deep. You couldn’t lie. Not to him. Not with your legs shaking and your lips kiss-bruised and your entire body leaning into him like it had never wanted anyone else.

He chuckled again, quieter this time. Darker.

“Ya did,” he said, kissing the side of your neck, lips soft now. Tender, even. “And I ain’t mad, darlin’. Y’think I don’t dream ‘bout this too?”

His other hand came up to cradle your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye like he hadn’t just dragged twenty years of buried longing to the surface in a single kiss.

“I just didn’t think,” he murmured, eyes glowing as they flicked to yours, “ya’d open the door so easy.”

And then his hand moved.

Two fingers, thick and slow, slipped inside you with a precision that made your knees lock and your breath shudder out in a gasp you didn’t mean to make. No warning. No teasing. Just in, to the knuckle, deep and deliberate, like he’d never forgotten the exact shape of you.

You jolted forward against his chest, hips stuttering, thighs pressing shut on instinct. But his arm wrapped firm around your waist, locking you there, helpless and pinned against him as he crooked his fingers just right and pulled another sound from your throat you didn’t recognize.

He groaned low. “Still so fuckin’ soft. Still open for me like I never left.”

Your hand slapped the doorframe for balance, fingers scrabbling, mouth half-open, trying to find air. But Remmick wasn’t giving you space. Not anymore.

His mouth brushed your ear. “He ever touch ya like this?”

You didn’t answer.

His fingers stopped.

Completely.

The stillness was brutal.

Your body rocked against him, desperate, aching, but he didn’t move. Not even a twitch.

“Answer me,” he said. Calm. Almost bored. “Your good man. Your sweet husband. He ever make ya feel like this?”

“…No,” you whispered, too soft.

Remmick clicked his tongue.

“I said speak up, baby. Y’know better.”

You swallowed hard, voice shaking. “No. He—he doesn’t.”

A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest. “Didn’t think so.”

He thrust his fingers deeper, slow and grinding, pressing against that spot that made your spine curve and your mouth fall open.

“Ever make you soak through your sheets just from thinkin’ ‘bout a look?” he asked. “Ever make your legs shake ‘cause you wanted it so bad you thought you’d die from it?”

You whined. Tried to shake your head. But again, he stopped.

Not a flex. Not a curl. Nothing.

“Remmick—please—”

“Answer me.”

Your voice broke. “No. Never. Not once.”

His mouth split into a grin so wicked it made your whole body clench around him. “Didn’t think so.”

He fucked you slow, fingers curling in a rhythm that felt like a secret being pulled from your bones. His hand on your waist held you still, anchored you to him as he worked you open with ease, with arrogance, with that goddamn patience that made him feel like punishment and prayer in equal measure.

“Y’ever beg for him?” Remmick murmured. “Cry for it? Lose your fuckin’ mind just ‘cause he looked at you the right way?”

You didn’t want to answer.

You didn’t want to admit any of this.

But the pause was longer this time. The stillness unbearable. Your body was screaming for it.

“No,” you gasped. “Only you.”

“That’s right.” His smile pressed into your neck. “My good little wife, moanin’ for the wrong man.”

His thumb found your clit and circled it once, just once, enough to make your legs buckle.

“Ya feel how wet you are?” he whispered, nose brushing your cheek. “This for him?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He paused.

You whimpered.

He pulled back just slightly. Not out. Just enough to make you feel the empty stretch behind it.

“For who?”

Your voice cracked. “You.”

“Say my name.”

“Remmick.”

He groaned against your throat, fingers thrusting again with filthy, exquisite control.

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s my girl.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He didn’t just touch you, he worked you. Drew out every forgotten ache, every unsaid word, every damn piece of yourself you’d buried under decency and dishes and folded laundry.

“Ya ever fake it?” he asked, lips at your jaw. “For him?”

You nodded.

He stilled again.

You whimpered, panicked. “Yes! Yes, I—God, I have, I did—”

Remmick chuckled darkly, fingers starting to move again, slick and obscene.

“Course ya did. Poor thing. Never stood a chance.”

You clenched around him, helpless against it. Your head dropped back, vision fogging.

“That’s it,” he cooed. “Y’remember how this ends, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He already knew.

And so did your body—traitorous, needy, too honest for its own good.

You were close.

You were so fucking close.

And just for a moment, you let yourself believe he’d let you finish.

Just as your stomach curled, breath catching, thighs beginning to tighten—he pulled out. Abrupt. Cruel.

Your whole body jerked like he’d ripped something vital out of you. A desperate, broken whimper escaped your throat before you could bite it back.

And Remmick laughed.

“Oh, baby,” he said, voice thick with mock-sympathy, “that little sound right there?”

He licked the tips of his fingers slow, eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s the sound of a girl who forgot who she was dealin’ with.”

You hated the way your body trembled. Hated that your pulse was still stuttering out of control. Hated that he was right. That your cunt was still clenching around nothing, already grieving the loss of him like he’d been inside you for years instead of seconds.

Before you could think to curse him, slap him, beg him, he moved.

Remmick grabbed you by the hips and lifted.

Effortless. Like you weighed nothing. Like this wasn’t the first time he’d thrown you around.

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. Old muscle memory. Dangerous muscle memory.

Your arms clung to his shoulders as he walked, carrying you like a man on a mission.

And you knew.

You knew where you were headed.

The moment you saw the edge of the dining table come into view—solid oak, the one your husband insisted was “too nice to actually use”—your breath hitched, legs squeezing tighter around his hips.

“Still remember, huh?” Remmick muttered against your jaw, setting you down with zero gentleness. Your back hit the wood hard enough to knock a gasp out of you, the cool polish biting into your skin through the robe’s thin silk. “Told ya once I’d take you on every fuckin’ surface of that house. Never broke that promise.”

You barely had time to adjust before he gripped the hem of your robe—what little of it still covered you—and ripped.

The bottom half tore clean off, jagged and loud, silk whining in protest before it fluttered to the floor.

You were bare beneath it.

You always had been.

Remmick groaned like he was seeing it for the first time. “Goddamn, darlin’.”

Then he dropped to his knees.

Didn’t say another word. Didn’t tease. Didn’t breathe.

His mouth found you like it belonged there.

Hot tongue, open mouth, greedy hunger.

No hesitation. No warm-up. He dove in like he was starved, like he’d been dreaming of this every goddamn night since the last time he tasted you. His hands gripped your thighs, spread them wide, fingers digging in like bruises he meant to leave.

And his mouth—

You screamed.

Low and sharp, head tossed back as he licked through your folds with the kind of practiced ruthlessness that made your vision blur.

He devoured you.

Sloppy. Loud. Wet.

His tongue flicked against your clit with obscene precision, slow and steady until your hips bucked. Then he sucked it between his lips and groaned like it was his favorite flavor.

You clutched the edge of the table with both hands, knuckles white, legs already shaking against his shoulders.

“Oh my God—Remmick—”

He didn’t slow.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t even look up.

You felt him groan into you, like your taste alone was something holy. One hand slipped down to grip your ass, yanking you closer to the edge, forcing you to take it, to feel every roll of his tongue like a punishment you’d begged for.

You wanted to run.

You wanted to cry.

You wanted to come.

You could feel it, spine curling, fingers digging into the table hard enough to leave crescents. Your breath came fast and ragged, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth as he sucked and licked and fucked you with his tongue like he meant to ruin you.

And he did.

Because he always did.

The orgasm hit you like nothing else ever had. No slow climb, no gentle crest. Just an eruption, pure and bright and violent, ripping through your entire body like lightning set to music. You screamed. You sobbed. You shook, thighs squeezing around his head as your back arched clean off the table.

You came so hard you forgot your name.

And still, Remmick didn’t stop.

His hands held you open, mouth insatiable, tongue dragging through the aftermath like he was trying to clean you out, like he couldn’t stand to waste a drop. You cried out again, voice cracking, body too raw and too sensitive, but he kept going, sucking and lapping and groaning like he’d never get enough.

You tasted yourself on the air. Felt the heat dripping down your thighs. Felt your soul start to float.

Until finally—

“Please,” you gasped, sobbing now, voice broken. “Please, Remmick—s-stop—‘s too much—please—”

You were crying.

Tears streaked your cheeks, your chest heaving as your hands tried and failed to push his head away.

And that’s when he looked up.

Face soaked.

Neck wet.

Shirt clinging to his chest, sheer with your slick.

But it wasn’t just you.

There was drool.

An obscene amount.

Slipping from the corners of his mouth, glistening down his chin in thick, silvery ropes. So much spit you couldn’t even understand how it kept coming, gluing him to you, shining like filth made holy.

He stared at you.

Eyes glowing—red, hungry, starved.

And then he smiled. Real slow. Real soft.

“Ya always look the prettiest when ya cry.”

That broke you.

Something in you cracked wide open. You whimpered, too weak to fight, too full of him to think.

And then he moved.

He stood in one smooth motion, grabbing you by the waist, and lifted you off the table like you weighed nothing. Again. And you went, limp and ruined, legs instinctively wrapping around him, arms slung over his shoulders.

This time, his tongue shoved its way into your mouth the second he caught your lips.

And you drowned.

In yourself. In him.

The taste was unbearable. Your come and his spit, mingled and messy, wet and wild. It filled your mouth, coated your tongue, slid down your throat as he kissed you with open-mouthed desperation, feeding it to you like it was a gift.

You choked on it.

You loved it.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, still damp with what you’d given him, and he kissed you harder, tongue claiming you like he needed it to live.

Then, he turned.

He walked.

Straight down the hall, not even breaking the kiss.

And you knew where he was taking you.

The bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Where you and your husband lay in false comfort night after night.

Where your hand slipped between your thighs in silence after the lights went out, tracing your own skin as you bit your tongue to keep from whispering the name of the man you really wanted.

Remmick didn’t speak as he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

Didn’t look around.

Didn’t hesitate.

He set you down hard on the edge of the bed, the marital bed, the sacred shrine of everything you pretended was enough, and looked down at you like he was ready to burn it to the ground.

You were on him the second your back hit the bed.

Fingers trembling but fast, grabbing for his belt buckle like it was the only thing tethering you to sanity. You needed him out of it. Needed him inside you, now, needed to feel every inch of him stretch you open until you forgot the name of the man who actually slept in this room.

The metal clinked once before you got it undone, hands sliding down to shove the leather free.

Remmick chuckled.

Not the amused kind.

The mean kind.

“Christ, slow the fuck down,” he snapped, voice a blade slicing through the haze. “Ya always were a needy little thing. Sloppy hands, pantin’ like a bitch in heat.”

The words should’ve shamed you.

They didn’t.

They burned.

Hot. Dirty. True.

You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. But you heard the rustle of his slacks hitting the floor, his boxers following quick after. He didn’t bother with his shirt. Didn’t even unroll his sleeves. He climbed on top of you half-dressed, his chain swinging low and his breath heavy as his body pressed yours into the mattress like he was settling back into something he’d missed.

He didn’t have to try. Didn’t need force.

His weight alone pinned you down.

One arm slid beneath your back, the other caught your wrists, locking them overhead with no more effort than it took to breathe. You couldn’t move. Could barely think.

And God, it was familiar.

The ache of it.

The sheer rightness.

The feeling of his body covering yours, his mouth close enough to taste your thoughts, his cock heavy against your thigh as he lined himself up with no warning, no softness, no pause.

This was love, wasn’t it?

Not the gentle, tepid kind your husband gave you—bedtime kisses and surprise bouquets.

This was Remmick love.

Cruel. Honest. Brutal.

“I shouldn’t let you fuckin’ have it,” he muttered, eyes burning into yours, “after the way ya ran. The way ya begged me to stay, then slammed the door like ya meant it.”

You squirmed beneath him, already gasping at the feel of his tip pressing just there, your cunt still soaked, still trembling, still too raw from what he did to you on the dining table.

“But y’want it so fuckin’ bad, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer.

He slammed into you.

One sharp, vicious thrust.

You cried out, body arching up as your walls struggled to take him, stretch for him, remember him. You weren’t ready. You couldn’t be. Not after what he’d already done to you. But that didn’t stop him. Didn’t even slow him.

“Fuck,” Remmick growled, hips pulling back only to rut forward again, deeper this time, harder. “Still tight. Still fuckin’ perfect. Like this pussy never forgot me.”

Your eyes rolled back.

Your hands clawed uselessly at the sheets, wrists still pinned tight in his grip. His other hand caught your jaw, forcing your face toward his, making sure you didn’t dare look away.

“Ya let him fuck you in here?” he hissed, voice venom. “In this bed? These sheets?”

You whimpered.

Remmick’s thrusts got rougher. Barbarous. He was fucking you like he owned you. Like he was carving himself back into the spaces time tried to seal shut.

“Answer me.”

Your voice came out a rasp. “Y-yes.”

He spat, not even trying to hide his disgust. “Bet he couldn’t even make ya come.”

You shook your head, biting back a sob.

“And now look at ya,” he snarled, dragging his hips slow this time, a deliberate grind that made your body sing. “Lettin’ me fuck the truth outta ya like always. Like nothin’s changed.”

Tears welled again.

Because nothing had.

Because it had always been like this with Remmick. Not gentle. Not sweet.

But real.

He fucked you like he was never going to stop.

Eyes locked on yours.

Not blinking. Not flinching.

Just watching as your mouth parted, as your body opened for him, as the ruin of you spilled across the sheets that had never seen this kind of worship.

And still, Remmick didn't slow.

Not even close.

Not when your eyes rolled back. Not when your body clenched tight around him like you’d never learned how to let go. Not when the air left your lungs in staggered, helpless sobs.

Remmick fucked you like he hated you.

Like he’d missed hating you.

And then—

His hand let go of your wrists.

Only to move to your throat.

Fingers curling slow around your neck, the pads of them warm, calloused, unforgiving.

Your body froze beneath him.

Not in fear. Not exactly.

Something darker. Deeper.

You looked up into his eyes.

And he looked back like he wasn’t really there anymore.

“Y’know,” he said, voice calm, like he was talking about the weather, “there were so many nights I thought about killin’ ya.”

Your breath caught.

His grip tightened.

“After ya left,” he murmured, hips still driving into you like punctuation, “after y’said all that pretty shit and slammed the door—when you thought ya’d won—I used to lay awake, hand on my dick, thinkin’ about wringin’ your pretty little neck.”

You whimpered, legs trembling around his hips.

He leaned closer, chest flush to yours, breath hot against your lips.

“Not just ya,” he added, almost like an afterthought. “That man of yours, too.”

Your stomach flipped.

“I thought about what his blood would look like on your white fuckin’ comforter. What your scream would sound like. If ya’d still cry my name with his body lyin’ cold at the end of the bed.”

His fingers pressed harder. Just enough to make your vision shimmer.

“Y’don’t believe me,” he whispered. “But I still think about it.”

Your heart stuttered.

“And right now?” he said, grinning. “Right now, I could do it. So easy. You’re lettin’ me fuck you raw in your husband’s bed, cryin’ beneath me, beggin’ for it. What’s one more sin, huh?”

His grip cinched tight.

Your breath stopped.

The room swam.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Just held you there, trembling beneath him, his cock still buried deep inside you as the world slipped sideways.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Your fingers spasmed.

And just before the edges went black—

Smack.

A vicious slap to your thigh, loud and hot, snapped the air back into your lungs. Then another, this time across your ass, hard enough to sting. Your throat opened on a strangled gasp, your back arching as your body reeled from the sudden shock.

“There she is,” Remmick said, laughing low. “Didn’t want ya driftin’ off just yet, darlin’. We’re just gettin’ to the good part.”

You choked on your own breath, eyes wet, chest heaving.

He let go of your throat, dragging both hands down your ribs like he hadn’t just threatened to kill you. Like the idea still wasn’t sitting there behind his eyes, twitching like a secret.

You were dizzy. Raw. Split open and trembling and soaked.

And Remmick looked like he'd never been more in love.

Which is exactly when the front door opened.

Just a quiet creak. A shift of hinges.

But it shattered the world.

You went still.

So did Remmick.

The sound of keys hitting the bowl by the entryway echoed like a gunshot through the hallway. A low thud as shoes hit the mat. A familiar voice, soft and unsuspecting, humming the tail end of some commercial jingle. Your husband.

Your husband was home.

And your heart plummeted.

The blood in your veins iced over. Your breath caught. Every nerve ending snapped taut, your body trembling beneath Remmick in frozen disbelief. You were still spread beneath him, raw and soaked and filthy, your thighs trembling and your breath caught somewhere between a sob and a prayer.

Remmick blinked.

Once.

Then again.

Then he looked at the door.

Then at you.

Back to the door.

Then you again.

And then that grin split his face.

Wide. Sharp. Wrong.

It wasn’t the cocky, teasing smile he wore when he knew you’d already given in.

This was different.

This was a grin that made something ancient and terrified curl up inside you and scream.

“Y’ain’t tell me he was gonna be early,” he whispered, voice light, sing-song. “How rude.”

You couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

But Remmick moved with purpose now—sat up, still inside you, dragging your body with him. He flipped you like he owned you, like you were just a doll to be repositioned. Hands grabbed your hips, yanked them up beneath him, forced your knees into the sheets until your back arched and your cheek was pressed flat against the mattress.

Doggy style.

Exposed. Helpless.

His cock dragged out slow before slamming back in with a wet, brutal sound.

You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“No no no,” Remmick said, voice a low hum as he gripped your face, twisting it until your eyes were pointed toward the bedroom door. “Keep ‘em open. He deserves to see it.”

Your name echoed from down the hall.

“Honey?” your husband called, so painfully unaware. “You home?”

Another thrust.

Louder this time.

Obscene.

The slap of his hips hitting your ass echoed off the walls like thunder.

You whimpered. You couldn’t help it.

“Sweetheart?” the voice came again, closer now. Footsteps.

Remmick picked up his pace.

Flesh on flesh. Sharp. Wet. Merciless.

You heard a pause outside the door.

Then the knob turned.

Then the door opened.

Your husband stepped into the room.

And froze.

His eyes landed on yours first—your face, contorted in shock, shame, raw pleasure.

Then his gaze moved.

To where Remmick’s hands were fisted in your hips.

To the way your body shook with every loud, violent thrust.

To the way your mouth hung open in a sob you hadn’t let fall yet.

The look on his face could’ve killed you.

Confusion.

Betrayal.

Then—horror.

Like something inside him snapped.

And still, Remmick didn’t stop.

He slammed into you again, harder than before, dragging your face further toward the edge of the bed, forcing you to watch.

“Smile for him,” he said, voice thick with a darkness that made your stomach turn. “Show him how happy ya look when you’re finally bein’ fucked right.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes.

Wrecked.

That was the only word for it. Wrecked in a way you’d never seen before—like someone had cracked open his ribcage and yanked his heart out with their bare hands. He looked lost. Pale. Mouth parted. Staring at you like he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.

And for a second—for one brief, trembling second—you wanted to believe in him.

Wanted to believe he’d fight.

That he’d do something.

That he’d cross the room, fists swinging, screaming, snarling, crying, clawing Remmick off of you like the man he was supposed to be. Like the husband he was supposed to be. That he’d fight for his wife, no matter how futile, no matter how ugly, no matter how late.

You wanted to believe he’d choose you.

But instead—

He covered his face with both hands.

And sat.

In the chair at the corner of the room, opposite the bed.

Chest heaving.

Shoulders shaking.

Not saying a word.

Not making a move.

And just like that—

Every drop of love you had left for him died.

Turned to ash in your mouth.

It wasn’t just disappointment. It wasn’t just betrayal.

It was hatred.

Hot. Immediate. Unforgiving.

And Remmick saw it happen.

Felt it bloom in your body beneath him.

He laughed.

Not playfully.

Not even cruelly.

It was disgusted.

A laugh like spitting. Like rot.

“That’s the man ya chose over me?” he said, thrusts still pounding into your cunt, hands bruising your hips as he snapped his hips against you with brutal rhythm. “That little fuckin’ coward?”

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

The silence screamed.

“Jesus Christ,” Remmick muttered, breathless and gleeful, “he can’t even pretend to care. Ya ruined him, darlin’. Just like I knew y’would.”

He pulled out of you without warning, grabbing you by the waist and flipping you again, dragging you half off the bed until your head dangled over the edge, hair brushing the floor, throat exposed, everything upside-down.

And there he was.

Remmick, towering above you, cock flushed and leaking, sliding back into your wrecked cunt with a force that rattled your teeth. The angle sent lightning up your spine, your toes curling, vision swimming. He gripped your thighs and pushed them wide apart, spreading you open, fucking you down against the edge of the bed like you were just a hole to conquer.

But your eyes?

They were locked on him.

Your husband.

Still sitting there.

Hands still over his face.

Until they weren’t.

You saw the moment shame turned to something else.

Curiosity.

Then heat.

One hand dropped to his lap.

You didn’t want to believe it.

Didn’t want to see it.

But you couldn’t look away.

The outline of his cock, straining against his jeans. The way his chest rose and fell faster. The way his fingers hesitated—then unzipped.

Remmick saw it, too.

“Oh fuck me,” he laughed, cruel and delighted. “You’re hard, aren’t ya?”

Your husband flinched.

Remmick leaned over you, one hand grabbing your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look away, even though he knew you weren’t.

“He’s hard, baby,” he sneered. “Your good little husband, sittin’ there watchin’ another man ruin his wife and he’s got his fuckin’ cock out.”

You whimpered.

Remmick thrust harder.

“Go on,” he said over your shoulder, loud enough to sting. “You’re already sittin’ there. Might as well enjoy the show, huh?”

And then, your stomach dropped.

Because your husband did it.

He pulled his cock free.

Hard. Strained. Already wet at the tip.

And he started stroking himself.

Right there.

Right fucking there, watching you be destroyed.

Something inside you shattered.

But Remmick’s grip only tightened.

“See?” he breathed, voice low in your ear, hips pistoning into you like he wanted to leave dents. “Told ya no one would ever love ya the way I do.”

And as your tears slipped backward into your hair, as your cunt pulsed around Remmick’s cock and your husband’s soft, broken moans filled the room—

You realized something sickening:

You believed him.

And the second you did, everything shifted.

Remmick’s voice fell away.

Replaced by sound.

Raw, filthy, feral sound.

The slap of skin against skin. The wet pulse of your cunt around him. His groans—deep, guttural, half-choked—as he rutted into you with a new kind of desperation. Like something had cracked inside him too. Like he was breaking right alongside you.

His hips lost rhythm.

Gained need.

The drag of his cock turned erratic, heavy, slick. His breath stuttered against your neck, hot and shallow, teeth grazing skin in the warning way. And you felt it—his weight pressing down, arms sliding beneath your back, legs shifting to cage you in, his entire body wrapping around you until there was no air between you, no space left untouched.

He was everywhere.

Crushing.

Consuming.

Yours.

“Gonna fill ya up,” he slurred, voice strained, drunk on you, on this, on everything he hadn’t let himself say until now. “Gonna—fuck—gonna put a baby in ya, darlin’.”

You gasped, eyes wide, your arms sliding up around his back without thinking.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

“Make ya a momma,” he panted, forehead pressed hard against yours, sweat dripping from his brow to yours. “My fuckin’ housewife. Keep ya barefoot and full for the rest of your goddamn life.”

Your thighs clenched around him.

Your fingers dug into his back.

“Just how y’should be,” he growled, pace stuttering. “No more runnin’. No more pretendin’. Just me with ya and a whole house full’a kids with my fuckin’ eyes.”

You cried out, your body already tightening again, trembling.

And then, one last thrust.

Devastating. Bone-deep. Final.

He came with a groan that barely sounded human, hips locked in place, cock pulsing inside you, spilling heat deep into your cunt like it was a claim. Endless. Relentless. It spilled out around him, a mess between your thighs, and still he didn’t stop.

And with it—

His fangs sank deep into your neck.

No warning.

No care.

Just sharp, precise, possessive puncture.

You screamed—and came. Hard. Wrung-out, shattered, blinding.

The orgasm ripped through you like it had teeth. Your walls fluttered around him, milking every last drop. Your back arched, pinned and blood-warm, as his mouth sealed over your skin and drank. Long, greedy pulls. Like he needed it more than breath.

Your heart stuttered. Your eyes rolled back.

And in the haze of it, another sound.

A choked gasp. The sharp, wet rhythm of a fist meeting skin. Then a broken, pathetic groan as your husband came too. Facing you both, cock in his hand, shame on his face, guilt dripping down his knuckles.

Remmick pulled back from your neck, blood staining his lips, breath heaving.

Then he angled to look.

Smirked.

Spat.

“This the first time y’ever came with her, huh?”

He thrust once more into your ruined cunt, slow and deep, just to emphasize it.

“Had to watch me do it for ya. Pathetic.”

And you?

You didn’t even blink.

Didn’t even look at the man you once thought would love you right.

Because Remmick was right about that too.

This was where you belonged.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, just long enough for you to pretend it would never end. Your walls still fluttered around him in soft aftershocks, your body unwilling to believe it was over even as your mind tried to catch up.

Then—

He pulled out.

Slow. Measured. Intentional.

A sound escaped your throat—broken, needy, trembling. Not quite a sob, not quite a plea.

Your hands caught his hips weakly, as if you could keep him, tether him, keep that full warmth inside for just a moment longer. "Please…"

“Shhh,” Remmick cooed, brushing a thumb beneath your eye where your tears had dried and cracked. “It’s alright, baby. You’ll get it again.”

The emptiness hit harder than anything else had.

A cavernous ache. Raw. Desperate. A void nothing else could fill.

You didn’t realize you were crying again until your vision blurred.

You watched as he stood.

Watched as he moved across the room toward the man still sitting dumb and wide-eyed in the chair.

Your husband.

Your witness.

There was a single second.

A flash of recognition.

His eyes met Remmick’s.

And that was all.

The claws flashed.

Once.

Ripped.

There was no scream. No fight. No time for last words.

Just a sound, wet and ugly, as his throat was torn open. Gutted clean from beneath the jawline, near-severed, a geyser of arterial red splattering across the walls, the chair, the floor.

And still, for one sickening second, his body twitched.

You screamed.

You screamed with everything you had left, dragged yourself backward across the soaked sheets until your spine hit the bedframe, until your limbs locked up with exhaustion and fear and your own slick still coating your thighs.

Remmick turned to face you.

Blood painted his chest, his jaw, his hands, dripping from his fingers like it had always belonged there. His eyes were gleaming, that familiar, terrifying red turned brighter now, like it fed off what he’d just done.

And then he crawled.

Across the bed.

Staining the sheets with long streaks of crimson, smearing every part of the room you once thought of as yours. As his.

Now defiled.

Claimed.

Ruined.

His hands—slick, sticky—cupped your face with impossible tenderness.

And then he kissed you.

Slow.

Deep.

Unforgiving.

Spit. Blood. The coppery tang of death. And beneath it all, still the faint, almost-sweet taste of you on his tongue.

It coated your teeth. Filled your lungs.

You let him.

You kissed him back.

When he pulled away, his voice dropped low, affectionate, almost reverent.

“Guess it’s just us now, darlin’,” he whispered. “Us. And our little thing growin’ inside ya.”

Your mouth parted, but no sound came.

He leaned in again, brushing his blood-wet cheek against yours, dragging his tongue slow along the edge of your jaw.

“Gonna make sure y’never forget who you belong to.”

You didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

There were no words left.

Just slick cooling on your thighs.

Just sheets ruined for good.

Just the memory of your husband's eyes, wide and broken, moments before he died doing nothing.

And a part of you—that sick, lost, unredeemable part—knew:

That was exactly how you wanted it to be.

Forever.

[meowmewmews]

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

minors don’t interact!!!!! 18+ only mature content under tab

synopsis : sol was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. you were his soulmate. he’d make sure no one else would touch you. he is the only one who can satisfy you. don’t you know that?

warnings : yandere, masturbation, obsessive behavior, stalking, somnophilia, cnc, dubcon, predatory behavior, smut, long word count, drugging, grinding, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point, and dominant Sol at another point.

author’s note : if you just want to read smut skip to sections with the 🍋 icon

long word count (11.7k+ words) i mean this might as well be split into different chapters but i don’t want to do that, also i decided to change him referring to you as pumpkin to something else sorry. gave him a tongue piercing because it sounded fun >:3 also i hate tumblr formatting so read on ao3 if you want . (gloomy_kitty)

also not 100% lore accurate

thanksss to my friend who proofread this for me!!

Sol was obsessed with you and had been since you first arrived at the school. The moment his scarlet eyes landed on you something strange was awakened within him. It felt like love at first sight—no it was love at first sight. Did you remember your first encounter? No, it was so long ago you probably hadn’t. He did though, he remembered how he felt so vividly. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his breath hitched making it difficult to breath the moment he had seen you. That cute library assistant that worked on campus. He remembered how he had walked up to you at the counter, asking for a book for class. How you went out of your way to help him find it, not complaining a single time.

“You absolutely need this book for your class right?” You asked him, sighing in defeat after nearly an hour of searching the library.

“Yes, but if you can’t find it don’t w-“ Sol began, a bit irritated that this was required for his passing grade. But he’d just ordered it online and prayed it arrived on time before finals.

“No. I know we have it. Don’t worry I’ll find it. Just give me another day. Here write down your info and I’ll give you a call once I do.” You said determinedly, sliding a sticky note and pen towards him. “O..okay.” He mumbled and wrote down his information. He fully expected you to not ever find the book or just forget to call him to let him know of your findings. But the very next morning he received a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hi this ______ from the school’s library. I found the book you were looking for. It’s reserved at the front desk. If I’m not here just let whoever is at the counter know your name.” You said, he could tell that you were quite happy.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock, you really found it. He responded back with a simple thanks and during a free period he went to the library. There he saw you shelving away books, a content expression on your face. Awkwardly he walked up to you clearing his throat, when he realized you had an earbud in. You jumped in surprise, dropping the book you were holding. Then, at the same time you and Sol reached down to grab the book. Your hand on top of his for a brief second before you pulled away. It felt like a bolt of electricity shot through him. “Whoops! Oh hey you’re the guy from yesterday!” You laughed quietly as he handed you back the book. With that you checked him out reminding him that late fees would occur if he didn’t bring it back on time. You explained how you stayed over an hour after your shift to find what he was needing, then it turned out it was in the completely wrong genre! A historical book tucked away with comics, how egregious!

When Sol asked why you did that you shrugged, simply saying, “I don't want anyone to fail their first semester because I was too lazy to find a book for them. It’s my job after all.” You flashed him a smile. As you handed it over your fingers brushed over him for another brief moment. That same electric feeling coursed through his body. It was that moment something had awakened inside Sol. He was obsessed now.

That memory played in his head for over a year, he had found out your first name. One day when sitting in the library “studying” he overheard you telling a blonde girl about how excited you were for your art class in the fall then you explained what period it would be. Since there was only one introduction to art class that fall semester for the period before lunch, he was going to enroll in art class regardless so might as well make sure he was in yours. Everything had been planned out. Sol didn’t leave any detail forgotten.

He got to class early, sitting in the back of the classroom. He placed his backpack on the chair next to him and anyone he tried to sit next to he glared at, causing them to scurry away. Now he just needed to wait for you to arrive, you’d have to take the only available seat open next to him in a full class.

Like he planned There were no more seats left in class, you had arrived a bit late, only barely beating the bell. He watched as your eyes darted around the classroom looking for somewhere to sit, then a relief look washed over your cute face when you spotted the open seat next to him. Quickly you made your way over pulling out the chair, “Is this taken?” You asked him, already beginning to slip off your backpack.

“N..no.” Sol replied avoiding your gaze, he was focused on his sketchbook, his pencil tapping against the book as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh thank god.” You sighed in relief, finally taking your seat. Rummaging through your backpack you pulled out all the essentials you’d need for art class. It worked. His plan went perfectly!

Sol found it difficult to concentrate on the professor’s words as he discussed basic art fundamentals, he just kept glancing over at you. Your perfume smelled so intoxicating, it drove him wild. The way you studiously jotted down notes was so adorable. Then class ended much to the man’s horror, he hadn’t written down a single thing but most importantly you gathered your things to leave without saying a word to him. He lingered in the classroom a bit, slowly shoving his sketchbook back into his backpack.

A couple days passed before he could see you again, and the whole time he found it difficult to think about anything else other than you. Sol was a bit angry at himself for not even speaking to you, that was his chance to reintroduce himself. He would talk to you next time, he promised himself.

The next class came and you were once again in the same predicament as last time. Arrived to class right before the bell went off and the only seat opened was next to the same guy as before. Not that you minded, he seemed nice enough. “Hey.” You greeted him quietly as you sat down before taking a seat. “Hi.” He returned your greeting quietly. He once again didn’t speak to you and that cycle went on for some time, before finally he had an excuse for the two of you to speak. He wasn’t sure why he kept shying away from you. Shit, he could barely even concentrate in class.

Then the next class came. “Everyone, please pair up with the person beside you, I want you and your partner to discuss today’s chapter.” The professor mumbled as he took a seat back down at his desk, immediately kicking his feet onto the desk and tapping away on his phone.

Turning around with a sigh you looked at your partner with a smile, “Hi. Thanks for always saving me a seat. I’m ______.” You introduced yourself, then gave the dark haired man an encouraging nod to speak. I know what your name is. He thought. Sol rubbed the back of his neck, nervously avoiding your eyes, his gaze fixated to the side. “Yeah it’s no problem. I’m..Sol.” He introduced himself back, hoping that maybe you remembered him.

“Nice to meet you, Sol.” You chimed in reply, holding your hand out. He looked at your hand, then back at you before he shook your hand back. “Yeah, same.” He said, a small smile making its way to his pierced lips. The moment your hands touched, he felt his heart do a leap, and without meaning to he held onto your hand for a bit longer than usual. Though upon realizing that, he quickly pulled his hand away. Either you didn’t mind or just didn’t notice it, as you immediately turned your attention back to the textbook. So you didn’t remember him, that was okay it’s not like he ever went out of his way to speak to you at the library.

“So, this chapter…” you began as you pushed the textbook to the center of the table so you both could share. Sol didn’t speak too much, he was more interested in what you had to say, he nodded attentively and hummed in acknowledgment when he agreed with something you said. The professor didn’t seem too interested in teaching class, so the reminder was spent just conversing. You giggled as Sol said something as you playfully slapped his arm, “What, no way? You did not!” You quietly exclaimed as Sol told you a story. He nodded, “Yeah I really did. It’s embarrassing but it’s the truth.” He laughed softly. Every single fucking thing was so adorable about you; your name, laugh, appearance, personality, every single thing was so adorable. Then just as Sol was about to open his mouth to speak again, the bell rang.

Jumping up in your seat, you pushed the chair back, quickly gathering your belongings. “I gotta go, Sol. But you’ll save me a seat again right? I really enjoyed talking to you.” You asked, looking at him with the cutest expression. “Yeah of course.” He reassured you. “Thanks, you’re the best!” You said and with that, you rushed out of the classroom.

As Sol finished gathering his own belongings, he noticed something sitting on your chair. Your jacket was left behind. He grabbed it and quickly walked out of the classroom to see if he could catch up to you, but of course you were nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ll hold onto it. Give it to her next class.’ He thought to himself.

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“Woah, that's a cute jacket! You seeing a cute girl?” Hyugo asked his friend. The pair sat at their usual spot on the rooftop eating their lunches. Sol rolled his eyes, “No. The girl who sits next to me in art left it, I’m going to give it to her next class. I just didn’t want it to get lost.” He explained as he continued to eat. He could bring it to you at the library where you worked part time but no, he just wanted to hold onto a bit longer. It was a cute jacket, he couldn’t lie - it was black with striped sleeves and an adorable black cat patch was ironed onto the front. It suited you perfectly.

“Aren’t you so sweet?” Hyugo teased, causing his friend’s face to heat up. Sol grumbled under his breath as he just ignored the comment and continued to eat, only causing the other to laugh. As the bell rang, signaling that their final class of the day would begin and marking the end of their lunch break, the pair stood up. Sol gathered the bento boxes, placing them in his backpack.

“Are you doing anything after class?” Hyugo asked before they parted ways. Sol wasn’t, but he needed to spend some time alone, there was an issue he needed to take care of. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “Aw okay, I’ll just go to the arcade by myself then.” He shrugged before walking off.

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It was dark already when Sol arrived back to his small studio apartment, the short winter days meant it would always be night when he got home. The dark haired man sat his bag on a chair, taking out the bentos to wash. He remembered your jacket was still in his hands, so carefully he placed it on the top of the couch. And so he did his usual evening routine; cleaning dishes, cooking dinner and lunch. The television was playing a show he really had no interest in watching, but it was good background noise.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, eyes flicking to the jacket on the sofa as he prepared his and Hyugo’s lunches. Sol felt the crotch of his pants tighten uncomfortably against him, he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his heart rate accelerated. But he remained focused just hurrying to finish dinner as soon as possible so he could shower and lay in bed. Tomorrow was early classes after all.

Finally after some time Sol had showered and flopped onto his bed, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus on anything other than you. But his boxers were so incredibly tight, his erection wouldn’t go away no matter what he tried to do. It felt wrong to touch himself to you, so resisting the urge Sol finally fell asleep. Tonight at least he was able to resist the urge.

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The next day of classes came and nothing extraordinary happened. Sol couldn’t spot you anywhere, he supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow to see you and return the jacket. His evening routine was more or less the same, but as he laid in bed tonight, the urges were getting harder and harder to resist.

Sol tried to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to think of anything else other than the raging erection in his pants right now. His gaze kept flickering to your jacket, he was reminded of how amazing you smelled. He just wanted to smell the perfume again, there was no harm in that…right? Quickly getting out of bed, he snatched your jacket from the couch, immediately pressing it to his nose. Oh god, you smelled so fucking good. He was intoxicated by the scent, his eyes rolling back as he took in your smell, and without even realizing what was happening, his hands trailed down his torso until they slipped under the waistband of his boxers. His long slender fingers immediately wrapped themselves around his erection.

Sol began to pump his cock, a whimper leaving him as his thumb grazed over his tip. Precum was already pooling at the slit, his face still buried in your cute jacket. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have his face buried in your hair, neck…your pussy. He fantasized how amazing you would taste as his face was between your thighs, he’d make you feel so good. He had wanted you for so long now.

“_____…._______….” Sol whimpered your name, scarlet eyes fluttering shut as his pace quickened. At this point he was panting heavily, a complete mess and if your mere scent was doing this to him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d act during the actual act. His cock twitched in his hand and legs trembled; he collapsed onto his knees. He was now thrusting himself eagerly into the palm of his hands, precum lubricating his cock. Sol’s moans echoed throughout the apartment and he felt the warm sensation building up in his core, then with one final thrust he came loudly. “Oh fuck ______!” He cried out, his cum making an absolute mess of his boxers.

Riding out his orgasm he finally came to a stop and dropped the jacket onto the floor. His chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, the whole of his body was a hue of red and warm to the touch. Dark hair sticking to his face from the beads of sweat that had formed. He made sure to toss your jacket onto the couch before he removed his hand from his boxers. A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over him when he saw sticky cum coating his hand. I shouldn’t have done that. It felt so good though. He thought with a sigh as he stood to his feet. I should go wash up.

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Class was the next day, and that meant Sol could finally see you, he could return your jacket. He waited until after class, when you both were in the hallway. A part of him debated on not giving it back, he wanted it forever, to always have you with him, but he decided against it and it was worth it. The look on your face when he had handed you your jacket back was worth it. “Oh my gosh, Sol. I was so worried I had lost my favorite jacket forever. Thank you so much!” You exclaimed as you hugged him briefly, before you slipped it back on. “Yeah..of course. I tried looking for you yesterday to return it but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He explained. A tinge of red evident on his pale features as he was reminded of what he did the night before with it. He violated your poor jacket, but of course he would never tell you that.

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively, “Sorry about that! I was in such a rush to leave. My other job needed me to cover a shift.” You explained. You had another job besides the library?

But he didn’t mind; he was just glad he could keep your jacket safe from anyone else. Fumbling in the pocket of your pants you pulled out your cell phone, “We should exchange numbers! Just in case one of us needs to get into contact with each other.” You suggested, swiping your finger across to unlock the device. He watched as you typed away on the screen before handing it to him.

Sol’s heart was beating so quickly now, you were really asking for his number? He looked a bit uncomfortable, like he was rejecting your offer, because you began to pull away your phone looking at the floor embarrassedly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t ha-“ you began but he cut you off, gently snatching the phone from your hand. And within seconds he typed in his number, he already noticed you made a contact name for him. Sol ☀️

But something else caught his attention as he felt the phone vibrate in his hand.

Crowe 🐦‍⬛ : You’re still coming over tonight, right?

Something inside of the dark haired man awakened when he saw that text. He froze in place, his blush that tinted his features now went away. Who the hell is Crowe? He thought bitterly. Your boyfriend or a coworker? He only snapped out of his thoughts when you retrieved your phone back, your thumbs danced across the screen then he felt his pocket vibrate.

“Did you get it?” You asked curiously, tilting your head so cutely to the side. “L-let me check.” Sol quickly said and pulled out his phone. His boring black phone background was illuminated with your text.

Unknown: hii! it’s ______ :D

Without a moment of hesitation he saved your contact. ______ 🌙

His contact was saved with a sun by his name so it only made sense that you were the moon. With that, you two said your goodbyes and Sol watched as you walked down the hall, he stood in his spot with a small smile on his lips.

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It was the weekend which meant Sol would do his weekly cleaning of his apartment. Loud music echoed throughout the apartment as he cleaned, humming softly to himself. Something caught his eye as he was vacuuming under the couch, a small piece of rectangular plastic glittered as it caught the light from the ceiling fan. Crouching, he picked it up and his eyes widened instantly when he realized what it was. Your ID had fallen out from the pocket of your jacket, he assumed. And all of your information was on it.

“______ ______..” Sol whispered your full name. He didn't know what it was before. Your address was there too, and it looked recent, judging from the picture and expiration date. The card shook ever so slightly in his fingers as he was practically salivating that he would now be able to find so many more things about you.

Halting his cleaning for the day, he shut off the music and instantly opened up his laptop to begin searching your name online. Hours had passed, day turned into night. Sol’s scarlet red irises were glazed over, his lips dry and mouth a bit parched. He hadn’t left his laptop screen in hours, too engrossed with finding out every single detail about you. Your social media wasn’t private, how foolish of you. And he scrolled through the dozens of pictures you had posted, finding out everyone you associated it with. The page refreshed and a new picture was posted. You are with a group of people at what looked like a bar, with the caption: Love my friends!! Tonight was so fun, let’s do it again!! :D

Sol remembered the text from this “Crowe” earlier and he began to examine the picture, trying to find out who this Crowe was. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man next to you in the picture. A long haired brunette with tan skin, he swore he had seen that face before. This Crowe was behind your frame, hands resting on either of your shoulders. To anyone else they would have assumed that you and the man were friends, nothing in the pose indicated anything romantic, but to Sol it was too much. He didn’t want to see another man behind you touching you like that. Standing up he slammed his laptop shut and decided he needed to go to bed before he got too consumed by his jealousy and anger.

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As days turned into weeks, then eventually into months, Sol and you grew closer. You were regularly texting and hanging out. He had found out that your lunches consisted of junk food, and that was even if you brought lunch to campus. So he decided to start prepping your lunches, and even dinners as soon as he found out you ate cup noodles nearly every night. God, you were cute albeit a bit useless, he didn’t mind cooking for you, it only made him feel wanted - and the look on your face every time you ate his meals just made him filled with so much joy.

You were so kind and introduced him to your friend group, Crowe was kind enough and he kept his hands off of you in Sol’s presence. But he knew that man looked familiar, and Crowe looked at him with suspicious eyes and a fake smile. Sol only remained cordial with your friends though, if they made you happy he’d pretend to be friendly with them. But the man never returned your ID, it was his now. You complained about having to buy a new one, but he made sure to slip some extra cash into your backpack one day when you weren’t looking. The text he received that night was so adorable. “Omg Sol I found some cash at the bottom of my backpack. I’m eating good tonight! >:3”

It was so worth it. But Sol had a dirty secret that he couldn’t tell a living soul. He was slipping sleeping medication into the dinners he made you, he made a copy of your apartment key, and he was letting himself into your home every night. It was all in an attempt to make sure you were safe!

“My neighborhood is so unsafe. I really need to find somewhere else to live. There’s been so many recent break ins and assaults, and I live at ground level.” He remembered you complaining.

“You can stay at my place, _______. It’s a decent neighborhood. Lots of old people, so it’s quiet.” He offered.

“Sol! No, I can't do that. You already do enough for me. I got new locks on everything and alarms.” You retorted with a pout. He knew you wouldn’t change your mind, you weren’t that type of girl. You were independent, but that was okay. Sol would still keep an eye on you. Knowing you kept a spare key hidden away, he found it and while you were at work he had a copy made, then placed the key back without you being none the wiser.

Tonight wasn’t any different, Sol waited until you were asleep and he slipped into your quiet, dark apartment. He could navigate your home in the dark. That's how familiar he was with the layout, but the dim street lights also did aid him. Your bedroom door was slightly ajar and he quickly made his way in.

The streetlights illuminated your room, he saw your sleeping form on the bed, one hand hanging off the side of the bed and your blankets messily thrown on top of your body. In fact, the blankets barely covered any of your body. You wore an oversized t-shirt and the cutest panties - the shirt was raised and exposed your bare torso. “Were you waiting for me dear?” He whispered as he knelt down at your bedside. Folding his hands on the edge of the bed, he rested his chin on top, his gaze was so loving - but there was something so dark about the way he looked at you. Raising a hand up, Sol’s slender fingers brushed aside the hair on your face. “So cute…” he breathed out.

You shifted, your eyes squeezing shut as a quiet groan left your lips. When you moved through, your shirt lifted just a bit more, revealing your breast partially. Sol felt his face grow warm and he tried to avert his gaze, but it was like you were practically begging for him, looking so cute and innocent. He choked back a moan as he felt his dick get hard, his fingers wrapped around the wrist of your limp hand and he placed his cheek into your warm palm. His eyes fluttered shut as he let out a content sigh, “You're asking me to do something, huh dear?” He mumbled. That had to be it or why else were you wearing such an outfit is that why you left your bedroom door opened? You were inviting him in, right?

Sol leaned down to press a kiss to your exposed neck, he nibbled softly at the skin. A quiet whimper escaping you as your brows furrowed. So cute. He thought, still nipping at the skin, leaving a faint red mark. His hand trailed down your neck until his fingers reached your breast, he gently massaged it for a brief moment. Another quiet whimper came from you. He let your hand that was cupping his cheek fall onto the bed for a moment, as his fingers fumbled with the belt of his pants and with a swift motion his dick was out. Already hard from anticipation, he positioned himself in your hands, he laced both your and his fingers together. He let out a moan feeling your fingers wrapped around his dick.

His whole body shuddered in pleasure at the feeling, and he buried his face between your breasts to quiet his moans as he began to rock his hips back and forth. His sensitive tip fucked your palm as he moaned out your name from between your breasts. Tears pooling at the corner of his closed eyes as pathetic needy whimpers left him.

“You’re mine. Mine..you’re mine ______. I love you so much.” He cried as he felt himself about to cum. Then, with another thrust he came hard into your and his laced hands. As he calmed his breathing down he slowly lifted his head up, you were still asleep, oblivious to the lewd act he just made you do. “You’re so beautiful, dear. You feel so perfect.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Standing up he pulled his pants back on, then walked to the bathroom to wash his sticky hands. Grabbing a rag he wet, he walked back to clean up the mess he left on your hands. “Crowe..the paper...” you mumbled in your sleep. Sol’s scarlet eyes widened in shock at the name, why were you talking about him when he was right here. His fists clenched and eyes narrowed, a dark cloud casting over his face. “You really ought to stop talking about him, dear. Crowe doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand you like I do.” He hissed through gritted teeth. You were just confused - that’s okay, Sol was patient. He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips once again before wishing you a good night. With that, he quietly slipped out of your apartment.

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The final day of class before winter break came the next day. You and Sol sat in art class together, sketching your final assignment. The classroom was quiet as everyone worked. You kept glancing at the dark haired man next you, a faint blush on your face as you remembered the brief dream you had of him last night. You dreamt that he was having sex with you, you heard his moans as he fucked you. Then, just before the dream actually got good, your mind decided that all of a sudden you were going to dream about you and Crowe finishing up your finals paper for English class that you had done earlier yesterday. God! Why did his stupid pretty face have to ruin the best dream you ever had!

Class couldn’t end any sooner and the Professor motioned for everyone to turn in their assignments. He reminded the students to check their emails during the winter break to see their grades. You quickly stood out of your seat, the chair nearly falling back as you fumbled with putting your things away. Sol noticed that something was off about you, you wouldn’t look at him at all. Surely you didn’t know what he did with you last night, right? He slung his backpack over his shoulder as he watched you as you zipped up your backpack. “Want to go to the arcade?” He asked you suddenly, “Hyugo and I are going since classes ended early today. Like right now.” He added.

Snapping your head up, you actually looked at him for the first time today. Your eyes meeting his, “O-oh…umm. I’d love to but I don’t have any…money.” You mumbled, voice trailing off at the end. “Campus library let go of all the part timers a few weeks ago, remember? And my other job cut my hours. So it’s tight right now.” You sighed sadly. “I wasn’t asking you to pay. I just asked if you wanted to come with us?” He said.

Sol noticed a strand of hair hanging in front of your face so reached a gentle hand up to brush it aside, tucking the strand behind your ear. “I’ll pay. You know I’ll always take care of you, ______.” He reminded you with a kind smile that made your heart flutter. It was something he always told you, you weren’t sure why he was so kind to you when you had nothing to offer him in return. You were a broke college student who couldn’t even cook your own meals. A faint blush dusted your cheeks as you shyly looked away, “O..okay. Then yes, I want to go.” You shyly said as you tugged at the sleeves of your favorite jacket.

“Alright, good. Here I’ll carry your bag. Hyugo should be waiting at the entrance.” Sol said, taking your bag from you with a swift motion. You tried to protest but he was already walking ahead so you were more focused on catching up to him.

The walk to the arcade didn’t take long, but you were shivering from the cold winter breeze. Sol noticed you shivering and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. You looked up at him before looking away shyly. Once inside the arcade, the three of you played games for some time. You pointed at a claw machine, wanting to win the cute cat plushie, you tapped at the glass before looking back up at Sol with big pleading eyes. “Aw, it's so cute. Do we have enough coins to win it?” You asked excitedly. Sol patted his pockets and sighed, shaking his head. “No, but I can go get some more if you’d like?” He asked, he just wanted to see you happy.

Hyugo nodded, “Yeah let’s play some more games! Oh, let’s get some food too. I’m starving!” He exclaimed, nudging Sol’s side. Sol looked at you, waiting for your answer. “That sounds good to me. While you two do that, I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here.” You said. The pair nodded and with that you went your separate ways.

You found the restroom. It was located in the back of the arcade and once done, you hummed quietly as you made your way back to the claw machine with the plushie you wanted. But you unbeknownst drew unwanted attention to yourself; you hadn’t even stepped a few feet back out of the bathroom when you were immediately cornered by a much taller and bigger man than yourself. He backed you in between two large pinball machines, leaving you trapped. “Hey sexy. You got a boyfriend?” He slurred, it was obvious he was drunk. He had both of his arms on either side of your head so you could barely move. “Not interested.” You spat as you tried pushing him away, but to no avail. That seemed to only anger him more as he lowered his face to be at eye level with you. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll treat you nicely.” He said, though this time his voice was much darker. The stench of alcohol lingered with every breath he took. You turned your face to the side, but that seemed to only anger him and this time he grabbed your jaw roughly in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t turn away, sweetheart. Just come on let me sh—“ he began, but suddenly his hand was ripped away from your face and you closed your eyes, fully expecting to get hit. You heard shouting and skin hitting skin, you still kept your eyes shut, flinching with every sound. The noise of the arcade was too loud and you slid down the wall, covering your face with your hands as you buried your face against your knees.

“Don’t you fucking touch her! I’ll kill you!” You heard a familiar voice shout, it was then you uncovered your face and your eyes widened in shock as you saw Sol fighting with the man, both with bloody noses. Hyugo pulled Sol away while a random person held back the other man. The two men were still shouting curses at one another, though you were so overwhelmed you could barely understand what they were saying. You noticed Hyugo was having trouble holding back Sol, so you quickly scrambled to your feet and stepped in front of the dark haired man, pressing your hands against his chest. “Sol! *Enough!*” you pleaded, tears forming in your eyes. The drunk man had lost his balance at some point and fell to the floor, but he was still threatening you and Sol. The man called you every name in the book, and he was mocking you - but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get out of here. There was a terrifying look in Sol’s scarlet eyes and it turned your blood cold. “Sol *please,* let’s just go.” You pleaded with him once again.

As soon as Sol heard your voice waver, he stopped and his eyes widened in a mixture of horror and guilt as he realized that you were crying. He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry. I’m done. We can go.” He said in a panic, “He didn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t touch you?” He asked. You shook your head, “No. I’m okay.” You reassured him, just wanting to leave. Your lip quivered as you looked up at him and you simply nodded, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him out of the arcade. Though when Sol was certain you weren’t looking, he turned back to the man and spat at him before he followed you out.

Once outside you wiped your tears away with your jacket sleeve, smearing your makeup a bit in the process, but you didn’t care. You didn’t dare let go of Sol’s hand, afraid that if you did he would turn back and actually kill the man. Hyugo sighed, rubbing his temples, “We should leave before the cops get called.” He mumbled. Sol clicked his tongue in annoyance, “We didn’t do anything wrong. That low life touched ______. I just defended her.” He spat back. You tugged Sol’s hand, “I want to go home.” You sniffled. “I’ll walk her home. You go ahead, Hyugo.” He said. The blue haired man raised a brow, by the way he looked at his friend you sensed that maybe he didn’t want to leave him alone. “You’ll call right? As soon as you dropped ______ off at home?” He asked, his brows furrowing.

Sol had already wrapped his arm around your waist, your and his backpack slung over his shoulders. “Yeah, I will. See you later.” He said pulling you along to walk off in the other direction. Hyugo just nodded watching as you two walked off.

Sol didn’t let go of your waist for the whole walk home, he held you protectively, glaring at anyone who looked in your general direction. Once you arrived back at your apartment you fished around in your jacket pocket for your keys, eventually finding them and unlocking the door. “Do..do you want to come in?” You asked Sol shyly. You were really inviting him inside! He felt his heart skip a beat and he swallowed nervously, “Sure.” He smiled and stepped inside after you, setting down the bags onto a stool by the door.

You untied your sneakers and left them at the door before you looked up at the tall man. “Do you want tea? Coffee?” You asked him.

“What do you want? I can start the water.” He asked you back.

“Tea sounds good. Something relaxing.” You replied, motioning him to follow you into the kitchen. You poured water into the electric kettle on the countertop as you reached into the cabinets to grab two cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to change real quick.” You smiled before walking off towards your bedroom to change. Sol already knew where everything was located, so he grabbed two tea bags, setting them into the ceramic mugs as he waited for the water to boil. Then a thought ran through his mind as his hand absentmindedly rested on his front pocket. You didn’t get to eat the dinner he made you for tonight which meant you wouldn’t sleep well.

So before the water was done boiling he pulled out a small bag in his pocket, and broke apart the sleeping pill, letting it dissolve in the hot water. He just wanted to make sure that you’d be able to sleep tonight was all.

When you walked back out of your room, your tea was already made and Sol was sipping on his as he leaned against the wall. He looked at your outfit, did you wear something like that on purpose to tease him? You wore tight shorts, a tank top, your favorite jacket unzipped, and the cutest bunny shaped slippers. “Thank you so much, Sol.” You smiled at him as you held the mug in your hands and slowly sipped on it. He nodded, “Of course. Anything for you.” He said returning your smile. You chatted with him for a while it was obvious that you were just stalling, you didn’t want him to leave. You were still shaken up from earlier, from both how Sol reacted and to what may have happened if he wasn’t there to save you from that man.

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You sat on the couch, legs crossed as some random show played quietly in the background. Sol sat across from you, you both had long finished your tea. He could tell you were getting a bit more sluggish, “I’m sleepy, Sol.” You yawned. “You should go..it’s getting late. Hyugo is probably worried about you.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. Sol frowned, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I want to make sure that you’re okay.” He replied back, he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“I’m okay. I just don’t want to be alone..” you sniffled. “I think someone has been breaking into my house.” You then said, flicking your gaze up to look at him with a worried expression. Sol froze, his breath hitched in his throat. “W..what? Why do you think that?” He asked, trying to remain calm. Folding your hands together in your lap, your eyes darted around before landing back on him, “Sometimes things are out of place.” Is all you said, “So please don’t leave me alone.” You then pleaded, suddenly leaning over towards him on all fours.

Sol’s eyes flickered to your face and to the gap between your shirt, he could see you weren’t wearing a bra and he shifted awkwardly in his spot on the couch as he tried to remaining eye contact with you. Placing a hand over his crotch, he let out a cough, a dark red blush making its way to his pale features. “Okay. I won’t. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He responded, a look of desperation in his eyes. You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he said those words. Then your mind wandered back to the dream you had last night, you sat back legs now folded underneath you.

“Can you come lay down with me in bed?” You asked him, looking away shyly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up much longer. Plus it’s more comfortable than staying out here.” You added. Sol found it hard to even speak now, he nodded and bit his lip. You stood up and began to walk towards your bedroom, turning off the lights along the way. Before you rounded the corner you noticed that he was still sitting on the couch, “Are you coming? You don’t have—“ you began only to be cut off by him springing up, “I am.” He mumbled shyly as he followed you into your familiar bedroom.

Your bedsheets were messily strewn about on your bed, like always. Clothes tossed haphazardly throughout the room, he watched as you shrugged off your jacket, tossing it on the vanity chair and you kicked off your slippers. You crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over your cold body. “What do you usually wear to sleep, Sol?” You asked him curiously, waiting for him to come lay down as yet another yawn left you.

“My..boxers.” Sol replied shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your cute gaze. “You can sleep like that here. I don’t mind.” You mumbled motioning with your hand for him to come lay down. “A-are you sure?” He stammered, already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking a bit in anticipation. “Mhm.” You hummed reassuringly, squeezing your legs together tightly. Sol wasted no time in taking off his clothes, it was a shame the room was so dimly lit so you couldn’t see him. He sat at the edge of the bed, still unsure of what he needed to do.

You tugged at his wrist, “Lay down with me. Under the blankets.” You encouraged him in a sleepy voice. He let you pull him down onto the bed, his heart was racing so fast he found it hard to breathe. As you both now laid under the covers he could feel your body heat, you were so close to him. Your bed wasn’t big by any means, so your bodies were practically touching. “I really like you, Sol.��� You suddenly said, you weren’t sure why you blurted that out, maybe it was your drowsy drugged state that made you say something you didn’t mean to.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock as he turned his head to face you. He could make out your soft features from the dim city streetlights that peaked through the curtains. Your hand now was on his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You take care of me. You’re so kind. I’ve never had anybody care for me like you do.” You mumbled, leaning over until your noses touched.

Sol raised a shaking hand to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I’ll always take care of you, ______. I’ll be here. No matter what.” He whispered back. His words were so kind and gentle, yet there was darkness in which he spoke. You blushed and looked away, your eyes closing shut as you finally closed the distance between your lips. You were a bit unsure on how to kiss him, not wanting to mess with his lip rings too much, but as soon as your lips met something clicked inside the raven haired man.

He returned your kiss desperately, not wanting to stop. Were you really doing this? Was this seriously happening?! He thought. It was a shame you were half asleep, but it still didn’t stop you from your next move. You rolled onto of him, your legs straddling his waist as you cupped his face in your hands, kissing him with inexperience. It wasn’t like Sol minded though, he was also just as inexperienced. His hands were on your waist, fingernails digging into your soft skin as he let out a needy whimper when he felt you grinding against his dick.

“Do you like me, Sol?” You asked him, breaking away from the kiss for a few moments as you continued to grind against him. When he took too long to answer you paused and lifted yourself up about to get up. Feeling utterly rejected by him, humiliated. But his hands slammed you back down on top of him. A crazed look on his face, “Y-yes I do. I like you. You’re my soulmate, ______.” He desperately spoke, his eyes flickering trying to read your expression. All you heard was “yes”, as you began to fade in and out of consciousness, despite desperately trying to stay awake.

“G..good.” You mumbled against his lips, beginning to grind against him again as you cupped his face. Sol returned your kisses as he let out whiny moans of your name, begging you for more. He wanted to feel your pussy, god knows how long he had waited to fuck you. His hands let go of your hips and now tugged at the waistband of his boxers. He managed to slip them off and when he felt how wet your panties were a pathetic whimper left his lips. He pushed your panties aside and now he could really feel how wet your pussy was. His dick pushed between your folds, you shivered as you felt his tip slide over your clit. “S-sol.” You whimpered his name.

Oh god, just you saying his name so lewdly was almost enough to push him over the edge. “A-ah.” He cried out as he felt your pace quicken. He loved the way you were using him, like he was nothing more than a toy for you to hump to reach your orgasm. The head of his dick was so sensitive and he felt your clit rubbing against it. “I..I’m gonna cum.” He warned you. Sol’s fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he bucked his hips upward. “I-I wanna fuck you…please. Feel your pussy…please.” He begged, biting your lip. But you ignored him continuing to grind against his hard dick as your moans became a bit louder, your thighs shaking. You could feel yourself about to cum, but Sol suddenly let out a yell. “A-ah ahh ______.” He cried as his hot cum shot out. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as tears pooled in the corner of them, his back arched, and fingernails scratching your thighs enough to leave a mark and draw some blood. His body shook under yours.

You felt the warm sensation rising from your core, your clit becoming more sensitive by the seconds. Sol’s thick cum now providing more lubrication. His whimpering of your name and pleading was enough to push you over the edge and moments later you joined him in his orgasm. You cried out his name as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm. Honestly you weren’t sure if you were or not, your mind was so hazy. Then you suddenly came to a stop, your body shaking a bit as your eyes closed shut.

Sol caught his breath, his hands rubbed up and down your back and he realized you had fallen asleep. The medicine had taken its full effect. He wrapped his arms tightly around you pressing a kiss on top of your head a content smile on his lips. “You’re mine. Mine…you’ll never have to be alone again.” He mumbled against your hair. His scarlet eyes gazing at the ceiling as you were fast asleep against his chest. At some point he fell asleep still holding onto you, with his dick between your thighs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You had awoken the next morning a bit groggy, you realized you were in bed with someone and you stared down in horror as you realized that you had slept with Sol. You only remembered bits and pieces of the nights before, and your sticky panties confirmed that you two had been intimate in some way. You wiggled out of his strong arms as quietly as you could and rushed to the bathroom, grabbing your phone careful to not wake him up.

After you cleaned yourself up and changed, you sat on the ledge of the bathtub typing away rapidly on your phone.

Crowe I NEED YOU NOW!!!!

What’s up? You okay?

NOOO. I think I just messed up. I think I ruined a friendship.

Woah calm down, ______. Is this about him?

YES. Can we meet up at the cafe? Please. Right now.

Yes. I’ll be there in a few.

Thanks.

With that you clicked your phone shut and quickly got dressed into your clothes from yesterday, not wanting to disturb Sol’s sleep. You peeked into your room and still saw him resting. You left the house getting your wallet and keys and tossing them into your jacket.

Sol woke up not long after you had left the house and when he didn’t feel your presence he immediately shot up in bed, panic beginning to set in. Where were you?! He grabbed his phone getting ready to dial your number when he saw a text appear on the screen.

I’ll be back soon. :3

He calmed down a bit, laying the phone in his lap as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Why didn’t you tell him you had somewhere to go? Why would you leave alone in the morning after everything that had happened last night? It was then he felt a bit angry, wondering why you were sneaking around. Snatching his phone back up he called you but you kept ignoring his calls, finally though you answered.

“Hello.” Your voice came through on the other end, there was also another voice on the other end too. It was one he recognized. It was Crowe. He felt himself grow even more angry as jealousy filled him. Why the hell are you with him?!

“Who are you with?” Sol asked, his voice as sickly sweet.

“Shhhh be quiet. Yeah, hi Sol, I’m with a friend. Don’t worry, I’ll be back home soon.” He heard you shushing Crowe. His grip tightened on the phone, if he squeezed any harder he may have shattered the screen. “When will you be back? Where are you?” He asked, this time his tone wasn’t as sweet.

“Sol…please don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll be back home soon. I gotta go.” You reassured him before hanging up.

Sol was furious, he slammed the phone face down onto the night stand, the glass screen shattering. Why is he interfering? Why does she keep hanging out with him? Doesn’t he know ______’s mine?! So many jealous thoughts flowed through his head as he quickly got dressed. He freshened himself up before he left your apartment, storming on the busy streets. What you hadn’t known was that Sol had installed a tracker on your phone many nights ago. He was really trying to give you the chance to tell him where you were without having to resort to using the tracker, but you wouldn’t tell him. He had no other choice but to use it, and make sure you were okay. He had to make sure that filthy Crowe wasn’t touching you. And he needed to show the brunet who you belonged to.

It was a rainy day and he didn’t care if he got wet, he was determined to find out where you were. The tracker led him to a busy coffee shop where he saw you and Crowe sitting near the window. His scarlet eyes met bright blue ones, belonging to the last person he wanted to see. Sol’s eyes narrowed, and all the brunet did was return a sly smirk before mouthing something to you. You whipped your head around just as Sol stormed into the coffee shop, immediately making his way to the table you two sat at. He tried to maintain his composure, his chest rising with every deep breath he took as he glared at the man sitting across from you.

“Sol? H-How did you know I was here?” You asked him in shock. He ignored your question continuing to glare daggers at Crowe, who sipped on his coffee nonchalantly. “Hey there. Care to join us?” He asked with a polite smile, motioning with his hand to the available seat.

“No. ______, we’re going home. Now.” Sol demanded, now turning to look at you. He grabbed your wrist and you tried to jerk away, “Ow, Sol!” You cried out, which caused him to immediately drop your hand. “Are you okay?” He asked, his angry expression now etched into worry. You frowned, rubbing your wrist, “Y..yeah. I told you I’d be gone later. Please stop this.” You pleaded, looking at him with big eyes.

“You should be gentle with her, Sol.” Crowe scolded half heartedly. “______, you should go. Don’t keep him waiting. We can talk soon, I have to get to work anyways.” He smiled warmly at you.

“But I—“ you stammered, but the brunet cut you off with a wave. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” He winked, it was purposeful, he was trying to get under Sol’s skin and it was working.

Sol grabbed your wrist a bit more gently this time as you stood up, “We’re leaving. Bye.” He spat, glaring at the man as he dragged you out of the coffee shop. All the while Crowe watched with furrowed brows and a forced smile. He didn’t like Sol, he didn’t like him at all. But whatever made you happy, he’d tolerate.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 🍋

Sol was dragging you down the street as you squirmed under his tight grasp on your wrist. The whole time you demanded to know what had gotten into him! This wasn’t the Sol you knew. Ever since the arcade, you noticed a sudden shift in his personality, it was instantaneous. As you two arrived back at your apartment, he shoved you inside with a forceful hand, slamming and locking the door shut. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sol?!” You screamed at him as you tossed your phone, keys, and wallet onto the kitchen counter.

Sol’s eyes were narrowed still as he walked towards you, instinctively you stumbled backwards until you found yourself with your back pinned against the wall with nowhere to go. His tall frame towering above you. “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one sneaking around with that bastard.” He hissed as he slammed his palms on either side of your head, pinning you between his arms. “I’ve tolerated him long enough. Doesn’t he know you belong to me?! I’m the one that’s caring for you and protecting you. While he does nothing.” He snapped angrily.

You cowered beneath him, beginning to grow a bit scared, “Y-you’re scaring me, Sol.” You whimpered. He clicked his tongue in annoyance; he didn’t like you pretending to be innocent in all of this. Perhaps you and that bastard needed reminding of who you belonged to. Sol crashed his lips against yours roughly, you felt his tongue trace the bottom of your lip. But when you were tightening your lips together to deny him, he bit your lip causing your lips to part open in surprise and with that his pierced tongue forced its way into your mouth. One hand on your jaw forcing your head to tilt up. You tasted like coffee and sugar, he didn’t mind at all though. It suited you.

You cried against him. He was being so forceful it was terrifying. He pulled away panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your and his lips. His hand was still firmly holding your chin. “I don’t think you realize, dear. That you’re mine. No one else can have you. Ever. I won’t allow it.” He muttered. He noticed that your eyes were watery and a sympathetic smile made its way to his pierced lips. “Aww..please don’t cry, baby. I don’t want to make you cry. I promise I’ll make you feel good. You just need to be reminded that you’re mine.” He said in a gentle voice as his thumb wiped away your tears.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered.

Sol leaned down to press a much more gentle kiss to your lips, “You won’t be for long. You’ll be feeling so good in a minute.” He purred and with that he picked you up holding you so gently in his arms bridal style as he continued to kiss your lips. Once inside the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and hovered over you beginning to tug at the waistband of your pants. “N-no Sol.” You whined but your arousal said otherwise. The truth was you were so turned on by him. You had wanted him in this way for so long.

Sol ignored your pleas and within a couple minutes he had you stripped of your clothes. You laid on your back on the bed as you looked at his nearly naked body, he stood only in his boxers. And now with the sun peeking through the blinds basking the room in a bright light you saw just how big Sol was. His body was well toned, just perfect. You saw the erection in his pants and you swallowed nervously at just how big he was. You weren’t sure if he was even fully hard yet.

You didn’t get to stare at him for too long though as he got to his knees, kneeling in front of your legs. “I’m going to make you feel so good dear. You won’t ever think of anyone else but me.” He said it almost came out as a warning. His slender hands pushed your legs apart and the look of pure lust was on his face. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands but he wouldn’t let you. “So pretty.” He whispered. God, he dreamt for so long to be buried between your thighs eating you out.

You jumped when you felt Sol’s tongue licking your pussy, the muscle dragging slowly between the slit. You felt the cold metal piercing drag along sending a shiver up your spine. He let out a moan as he tasted you. God, you tasted better than he could have ever imagined. He pushed your legs further apart and spread open your pussy, you squirmed a bit at being so exposed. Your hands balled up the fabric of the bed sheet beneath you as you felt the ball of his piercing roll over your clit, causing you to let out a loud moan. You knew you messed up when you gave him that reaction, because he immediately began to suck at your sensitive clit, rolling his piercing over it every single time causing you to moan louder. His tongue moving from teasing your clit to probing your wet hole. He wanted to taste every bit of you, this was pure bliss for the raven haired man.

“So good.” Sol praised. It was hard to focus as he sucked the sensitive bud, your head spinning as your legs quivered. He wouldn’t let you close your legs, no matter how much you tried. His tongue worked so expertly, he knew exactly how to get you whimpering under him. “Sol!” You yelped when you felt his tongue enter you, causing your hips to buck and your back to arch. It was such a strange feeling but god it felt so good. He was trying to fuck you with his tongue. Your hands tangled in his dark loose hair as you tilted his head back up to focus on your clit. “I-I’m gonna..” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as the warm sensation began to build more and more. Your breathing became more frantic and with another roll of his pierced tongue against your clit, your legs closed, Sol’s face still between your thighs as you held him there cumming all over his face. You were practically screaming his name as he continued to suck on your overstimulated clit. You begged him to stop, so he did and instead decided to clean you up.

Sol’s tongue lapped up every last bit of your juices, you tasted so amazing. He was drunk off of your scent—taste. Everything about you drove him crazy. He could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, licking your pussy and letting you cum all over his face. He was yours to use. “N-no more. Please.” You begged, your body falling limp.

Sol gave you one last taste, his tongue swiping up the full length of your pussy before he sat up. He licked his wet lips, “See..I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, dear.” He said matter of factly. He stood up pulling down his boxers revealing his hard dick. When you looked at him you nearly choked on your own spit. How the hell were you supposed to take him? He hadn’t stretched you out with his fingers to prepare you. “I-I can’t take you without—“ you began. But Sol leaned forward kissing you, shutting you up. “It’s okay. I’ll be slow.” He mumbled against your lips.

His tall frame towered above you, it was so intimidating, the way he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a small smile on his face. His arms were on either side of you pinning you between him. You felt the tip of his dick poke at your entrance. Sol continued to gently kiss you as he pushed himself inside you, he let out quiet whimpers as slowly filled you up. His body shuddered at the sensation, your tight pussy was everything he had ever dreamed off. “Fuck…oh god you feel so good, ______.” He moaned as he sat up now. Placing his hands on your inner thighs, he spread your legs apart as far as he could without hurting you. He wanted to see how well you took him.

Inch by inch Sol sank into you, it was agonizing how slow he went but by the look on his face he was savoring every moment. He was panting quietly trying to control himself, he did want to hear his soulmate after all. You squirmed under his strong grasp as he filled you up beyond belief. You weren’t ready to take him, he was so big it hurt. “S-Sol.” You cried, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you felt the tip hit deep inside, causing you to flinch in pain.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, dear.” He praised you. And without warning Sol snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to yelp. He couldn’t resist himself as he began to roughly fuck you. His fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs and quiet moans left him. He stayed quiet because he wanted to hear your sweet sounds.

He watched the face you made as every single time he hit that sweet spot of your pussy. The way your lips parted as you moaned his name and the how your back arched as he fucked you. The way your breasts bounced up and down with each thrust. He noticed the creamy white ring forming on the base of his cock. You felt so perfect, it was as if..”We were made for each other, ______.” He whispered. Sol let go your thighs, confident that you’d keep your legs spread out. He now cupped your breasts, fingertips lightly teasing your perked nipples as he watched you shudder under his touch.

Sol frowned, “Something’s missing.” He said in between pants as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. His pace was not slowing down at all, you were exhausted already, your pussy ached from how hard he was slamming into you. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk in the morning. “W-what?” You asked confused by what he meant but he didn’t answer you, instead leaned down to bite your neck. You cried out in surprise. He actually bit you. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck, not caring if he hurt you. After all, everyone needed to know you were his.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now running down your face. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped one hand between your thighs. You body twitched when you felt the pad of thumb rub your clit, all the while he never stopped fucking and marking you. He let out a low laugh when he felt your body twitch underneath him.

Sol could tell you were close to coming, by how your breathing became more erratic, how you held him closer. “Are you going to cum for me, dear?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, which annoyed the dark haired man. He sat up, ripping himself from your grasp and stopped rubbing circles against your sensitive clit. “You need to answer me.” He growled and just to emphasize the point, he pulled nearly all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. You cried loudly, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, “Y-yes. I wanna cum for you, Sol.” You whimpered, looking up at him with the cutest expression.

Sol smiled lovingly at you, satisfied with your answer, “You’re so cute when you beg, dear.” He spoke gently and with that he returned to stimulating your clit. Your mind was hazy as you felt your orgasm building up, you were only focused on one thing and that was coming. Your hands reached up to dig their fingernails in the skin of his bicep. “You’re so close. I can tell. Just cum for me. Please. I want to feel it so bad.” Sol begged in a whiny, desperate tone as he quickened his pace. And just like that you practically screamed his name, your body shaking as you came around his cock.

You orgasming and screaming his name was the most beautiful thing Sol had ever witnessed. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, it was better than he could ever imagine. He felt your pussy tighten around him and soon after he was coming too. Sol threw his head back as his dick twitched, coating your insides with thick cum. He was buried deep inside you, holding your thighs firmly so he could adequately fill you up. “You’re so beautiful. So pretty, full of my cum.” He mumbled, gazing down at you now.

Sol gently pushed your legs apart as he pulled out of you and watched in awe as his cum leaked out of your tight pussy. It was a heavenly sight. He sighed in satisfaction, flopping down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around your tired body, pulling you onto his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as you clung into him tightly. “No one will ever make you feel this good, dear. You were made for me. We’re soulmates.” Sol said barely above a whisper as he gazed at the white ceiling. “You’re mine. I won’t ever let anyone come between us. Ever. I love you so much, ______.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His embrace tightening around you when he said that.

There was something threatening about the way Sol spoke. You were a bit scared, but you had no reason to be, right? He just loved you and you loved him. “I love you, Sol.” You sniffled. Sol just smiled at your words. He finally had you all to himself.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

[bit3mebabyx]

Made of glass

🪽you knew joel could be controlling and cruel yet you pushed your luck anyways. stupid, stupid girl…🪽3k

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), smut, jackson joel, established relationship, age gap, power imbalance, fem reader, afab reader, punishment (belt/ spankings), mentions of pain, profanity, unprotected p in v, degradation, praise, edging/ denial, orgasms, creampie, fingering, daddy kink, consent non consent (i think??? at the very least it’s dubious), emotional manipulation, man handling, angst, toxic! joel, possessive! joel (find me a version where he isn’t lol), sex used as a form of control, aftercare, nicknames, brat reader, dom/ sub dynamics, no y/n, dark joel, hair pulling

basically a whole lot it’s dark shit, let me know if i missed anything as i haven’t really written a whole lot of stuff like this!

reminder: you are responsible for your own internet consumption please do not read if any of the above content is not appropriate for you 🤍

authors note: this came to me to me in a depraved vision, it’s real messed up but i’m obsessed with it.

Kicking at the snowbank with the toe of your boot, muttering under your breath. Joel stalked a few feet ahead, heavy steps crunching loud enough to cover up the steady stream of curses you aimed at the back of his head.

"You gonna pout the whole way home?" His voice cut through the cold air like a whip — rough, worn, irritated.

You didn’t answer yet, just sped up until you were walking at his side, shooting him a look from under your lashes. "Maybe if you weren't such a hardass, patrol wouldn't be so damn miserable."

Joel stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden halt made you stumble a step before you caught yourself.

He turned toward you slow, eyes narrowing as he held your gaze. "You wanna run your mouth, fine. But you pull one more stunt like that back there—" His voice dropped, dark and dangerous, "you ain't leavin' Jackson again."

You crossed your arms, heart hammering against your ribs. "I handled it. You act like I’m made of glass."

Joel stepped closer — close enough that his body heat cut through the winter chill. Close enough that when he looked down at you, it made your knees want to buckle.

"You ain't made of glass," he said lowly. "You're just young enough it, it makes you act stupid."

Your stomach twisted, heat pooling low and tight. You opened your mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to apologize — but Joel cut you off by grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes up to his.

"You listenin'?" he rasped. His grip wasn’t painful or hard, but it was firm. Commanding.

You nodded, pulse thrumming wild.

Joel’s gaze dragged over your face, slow and simmering. "Next time you disobey me like that... I won't be so fuckin' patient."

There was a dark promise in his tone. Not cruelty — control. Care that was delivered as dominance. You felt it in your chest, your belly, all the way down.

He let go of your chin and took a step back. You almost whimpered at the loss of contact.

"Get movin'," he muttered, turning away. "We’ll finish this conversation somewhere private."

The house was cold when you stepped inside. Joel locked the door behind you with a heavy clunk, the sound final, and for a moment, you just stood there — the air thick between you.

“Take off your coat,” Joel said roughly. “Boots too. Don’t want you runnin’ anywhere.”

You swallowed, hands fumbling at the buttons of your jacket and, kicked off your boots, toes curling against the worn rug. Joel watched you the whole time, his arms crossed, jaw set.

When you were standing there, smaller somehow without all the layers, he jerked his chin toward the center of the living room.

“On your knees,” he said.

Your breath caught — but you did it. Dropped down onto the rug, knees pressing into the scratchy fibers, your hands awkward in your lap.

Joel stepped closer, boots heavy against the floorboards. He loomed over you, looking down at you like you were something he owned, something he was deciding the fate of.

"Now," he said, voice like gravel, "you're gonna tell me exactly what you did wrong. And you're gonna tell me why you're sorry."

You wet your lips, heart pounding. "I—I didn’t listen to you on patrol. I rushed ahead when you told me to wait. I... I could've gotten hurt."

Joel said nothing, just stared down at you, waiting.

You blinked up at him, throat tightening. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "It won't happen again. I promise."

For a second, you thought maybe that would be enough. That he'd sigh, drag you up into his arms, kiss the top of your head and let it go.

But Joel shook his head slow, disappointment etched deep into the lines of his face.

"That easy for you, huh?" he muttered. "Say a few words, think that erases the risk you took?"

You opened your mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to beg — but Joel crouched down in front of you, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make you feel it.

"Sorry ain't good enough, baby," he said low and dangerous. "Not when it’s your life on the line."

You whimpered, heat flashing through your whole body. You leaned into his touch without meaning to, desperate for it.

Joel’s thumb brushed along the side of your throat, like he could feel the frantic pulse there. His eyes softened just a fraction — but it didn’t change his next words.

"You need a real lesson," he murmured. "One you ain't gonna forget."

He stood up again, towering over you, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he moved.

"Take off your pants," he ordered. "Now."

You hesitated, hands trembling as you undid the button of your jeans. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching — no mercy in his face, no softness.

When you awkwardly peeled your jeans down your thighs, shivering when the cold air hit, Joel finally moved.

He pulled the thick leather belt from around his waist with a slow, deliberate motion — the snick of it sliding free made you clench around nothing, thighs instinctively pressing together.

Joel folded the belt in his hand, testing the weight of it.

"Hands behind your back," he said quietly. "Kneel up, head down."

You obeyed instantly, heart hammering. The floor scratching at your cheek as you rested against the time-worn surface, hands locked behind you. Vulnerable. Waiting.

Joel circled you slowly like a wolf deciding where to sink his teeth. His fingers brushed your clothed back, trailing up to the back of your neck grabbing your attention so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You’re gonna take ten," he said. "One for every second you ignored me out there."

You whimpered — ten felt like an impossibly painful number. But you nodded, desperate to please him now, desperate to fix what you’d broken.

"And you’re gonna count every single one out loud," Joel said, voice a dark rumble. "You lose count, we start over."

Before you could answer, the first crack of the belt landed across the curve of your ass.

You yelped — the sting blooming fast, white-hot and deep.

"One," you gasped, blinking hard against the prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Another lash — harder this time — snapping against the top of your thigh.

"Two!"

Joel didn’t say anything. He just kept going, slow and methodical, each strike placed with brutal precision.

Not enough to leave you bloody — but enough that you felt it. Felt it in your skin, your bones, your pride.

By six, you were sobbing. Knees wobbling. Cheeks burning from the combination of scratchy carpet and tears. Joel paused just long enough to wrap his free hand in your hair, dragging your head back so you had to look up at him.

"You think you’re tough?" he rasped. "That how you acted out there? Like you don't need me watchin' your back?"

"N-no," you choked out, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry."

He growled low in his throat — a sound of frustration, and something darker.

"You ain't sorry yet," he muttered.

The last four lashes came faster, sharp and punishing — and by the end, you were sagging forward, gasping for air, thighs trembling.

Joel tossed the belt aside and dropped to one knee in front of you. Pulling you up so you were kneeling straight. His big, calloused hand cupped your face, thumb brushing roughly at the wetness there.

"Look at you," he said softly. "Pretty little brat. Thinkin' you can do whatever you want."

He trailed his hand down your throat, down your chest, over your trembling stomach — until it rested just above your soaked panties.

"You ain't learned a thing yet," Joel murmured. "Still so fuckin' desperate for me."

You whimpered, hips tilting toward him without thinking.

Joel smirked — but it was cruel, slightly twisted.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and ripped them down in one savage tug.

Then he leaned back against the couch, spread his legs wide, and patted his thigh.

"Come here," he said.

You crawled to him on sore knees, climbing shakily into his lap, straddling him.

But when you tried to grind down, seeking any kind of friction, Joel grabbed your hips hard — holding you still.

"Nuh-uh," he said lowly. "You don’t get to use me. Not yet."

He slid two fingers through your wetness, gathering it — but didn’t sink them in. Just traced slow, teasing circles around your clit, light enough to make you whimper.

"You're gonna sit here," he said. "You're gonna take what I give you, when I give it. You’re gonna ask for permission and wait ‘til I give it."

You nodded frantically, desperate, needy beyond words.

Joel smiled, slow and mean.

"Good," he murmured. "Now beg me, baby. Beg me nice. Maybe I’ll decide you earned it."

You squirmed in his lap, trembling, your hands still locked behind your back like he told you — but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him.

Joel’s fingers circled your clit slow, lazy, never enough pressure. Barely there, just a cruel little brush that made your whole body jerk.

"Poor baby," he murmured, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Look at you. Cryin', squirmin', makin’ a mess all over my jeans."

You whimpered, rocking your hips helplessly, but Joel's hand tightened around your hip, holding you down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"You thought you were grown out there, didn't you?" he said, tilting his head like he was talking to a naughty child. "Thought you didn’t need me tellin’ you what to do."

"Please, Joel," you gasped. "Please, I'm sorry, I swear—"

He chuckled low in his chest, your pathetic attempt at an apology amusing him.

"Sorry?" he echoed, sweet and cruel. "Baby, you don't even know what sorry means. If you did, you'd woulda been on your knees beggin' me to teach you better out there."

"I am," you sobbed, hips jerking. "I'm begging, Joel, please, please, I'll be good, I promise, I’ll listen next time, I’ll do whatever you want—"

Joel's thumb flicked your clit a little harder — still not enough to send you over, but enough to make your back arch, a broken cry ripping from your throat.

"Mm. Sounds pretty," he drawled. "But you said a lotta pretty things before, didn't you? Promised you'd behave out there. Look how that turned out."

"Different this time," you gasped, babbling now, too desperate to think straight. "I mean it, I’ll be good, I need you, I need you, Joel, please—"

Joel smiled — a slow, wicked, almost fond thing.

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

"You’re so fuckin' pretty when you're stupid like this," he murmured. "Mouthy little thing turned into my sweet cryin' girl again. Bet you'd promise me the fuckin' world just to get a little relief, wouldn't you?"

You nodded frantically, tears spilling freely now, shame and need tangling so tightly you couldn't tell them apart.

Joel kissed your temple — so gentle it almost hurt worse than the teasing.

"Poor thing," he whispered. "Didn't even know what you needed ‘til I gave it to you."

You were falling apart in his lap, soaked and aching and dizzy with it.

"I’m sorry, Daddy," you sobbed without thinking, the word slipping out wild and raw. "Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m yours, I’ll listen, just—please, Daddy, please."

Joel went still for half a second — like the word lit something inside him.

Then he hummed low, pleased. His hand cradled the back of your head, pulling you in so your forehead pressed against his chest.

"There she is," he murmured. "There’s my good girl."

You shuddered in his arms, still hovering on the edge, broken open and waiting for him to decide what you needed.

Joel slid his fingers back between your legs — this time with real intent. Real pressure. Real promise.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, the mocking edge finally gone. "I know you’re sorry."

He kissed the top of your head, steady and sure.

"Cum for Daddy."

You shattered.

Your whole body locked up, a ragged sob tearing from your throat as you came hard, soaking Joel’s jeans, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

He held you through it, murmuring soft, filthy praise against your hair.

"Good girl. That’s it. That’s my baby. Knew you had it in you."

You didn’t stop shaking for a long time — and Joel didn’t let you go.

You were still trembling in his lap, forehead pressed to his chest, gasping for air like you’d just survived a war.

Joel rubbed slow, steady circles into your back — not saying anything at first, just letting you come down enough to feel how wrecked you were.

Then he hooked an arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, and lifted you like you weighed nothing at all.

You whimpered — from sensitivity, from trust, from the way your body just gave itself up to him completely.

Joel carried you through the house, the floor creaking under his boots, until he reached the bedroom.

He laid you down on the bed — but didn’t leave you long.

He followed you down, covering your body with his own, caging you in with his weight.

"You did so good for me," he murmured against your ear, voice low and thick. "Took your punishment like a big girl. Cried real pretty too."

You whimpered, squirming under him, already aching for more — even after everything.

Joel reached down, undoing his jeans, dragging them down enough to free himself. His cock was heavy, flushed dark, leaking at the tip.

He caught your chin in his fingers, tilted your face up to his.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice soft but commanding. "Gonna let Daddy fuck that attitude outta you real gentle now?"

You nodded frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. "Please, Joel. Need you. Need you inside."

Joel smiled — slow, dirty, affectionate.

"Course you do," he murmured. "You’re mine baby. Ain't goin' anywhere without me."

He lined himself up with your entrance — soaked and ready for him — and pushed in slow, steady, giving you every thick inch.

You gasped, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders, still clad in that flannel that was so... Joel.

Joel groaned deep in his chest — a rough, needy sound.

"Fuck," he muttered. "So fuckin’ tight still. Made for me, baby. Made for Daddy’s cock."

He bottomed out and stayed there, letting you feel every pulse of him inside you, every inch stretching you wide, filling every part of you that needed it.

Then he started moving — slow, deep thrusts that dragged the head of his cock right against your sweet spot, over and over, until you were keening under him.

Joel held your hands above your head with one big hand, the other gripping your waist, using your body like it was his right — and it was.

You wanted it to be.

"Look at you," Joel rasped, thrusting slow and hard. "Took your beltin', took my fingers, now takin’ cock like a good little girl."

You moaned, helpless, clenching around him.

Joel leaned down, kissed your open, gasping mouth — slow and claiming — then pulled back just enough to murmur:

"Say it again. Say who you belong to."

"Y-you, Daddy," you sobbed. "Belong to you. Always."

Joel groaned again — a filthy, wrecked sound — and fucked you harder, deeper, his control slipping just enough to make it rougher, just enough to make you sob his name again and again.

"You’re mine," he growled, voice shaking. "Mine to take care of. Mine to fuck. Mine to keep safe."

You were close again — so close it hurt. And he could fucking feel it.

Joel kissed you hard, swallowing your cries.

"Cum for me again, sweetheart," he panted against your lips. "Wanna feel you. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock."

It took barely a few more thrusts before you shattered — clenching around him so tight it milked his cock right over the edge right after you.

Joel fucked you through both your orgasms, his mouth pressed to your ear, murmuring broken praises:

"That’s it, good girl, so fuckin’ good, Daddy’s so proud of you."

He stayed inside you after, cradling your body against his, still pressing soft kisses to your hair, your forehead, your cheeks — his calloused hands never leaving your skin.

Like he had to remind you, over and over, that you were safe now. That you were his.

Joel rose above you, still and steady just enough to look at your face properly, letting your racing heart slow. His breath was warm against your temple as he wrapped his arms tighter around your trembling body.

“You did good,” he whispered, voice rough but gentle. “Real good.”

You clung to him, tears still slipping free — not just from the intensity, but because you finally felt it. The way he cared so damn much it scared you a little.

Joel kissed the top of your head slowly, as if committing every trembling inch of you to memory.

“I ain’t never lettin’ anything happen to you, you hear me?” he murmured. “You’re mine — all of you — and I’ll take care of you better than anyone else ever could.”

You sniffled, nodding against his skin. “I’m sorry, Joel. I mean it this time.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, those rough, scarred hands cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I know, baby,” he said, voice soft but sure. “And I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause I wanna hear it. I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I believe it. You’re mine. And I’m gonna keep you safe—no matter what, I never wanna hurt you but, I just can't risk it.”

He kissed you again—this time slow and sweet, full of promises and fierce protection.

You melted into him, the fierce heat and the gentle care tangled into one perfect, messy feeling.

Joel smiled, a rare softness breaking through his usual gruffness.

“Now,” he said, voice low and teasing, “you gonna behave on the next patrol? Or do I gotta remind you who’s really in charge again?”

You giggled—a shaky, relieved sound.

“Promise, Joel,” you whispered. “I’m yours. Always.”

He kissed you one last time before settling beside you, holding you close as sleep finally claimed you both.

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7