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Medium Now Supports 77 New Countries, Including India

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Splish Splashing

Summary: in which Merman!Nanami courts and fucks Mermaid!reader Warnings: smut, f!reader, penetrative sex, lovemaking, mutual masturbation, merman anatomy, loss of virginity/couple's first time, dirty talk - praise, biting, blood drinking, cum eating, exhibitionism, unfortunate slips from past to present tense sorry lol - not proofread - will probs be edited later and more detail added Word Count: 2.7k

Merman!Nanami, for as long as he could remember, had always had a crush on you, another mermaid in his pod. How could he not with your iridescent scales, captivating hair which flows in waves around you, and seductive smile?

You were kind and graceful, offering your help whenever you could and leading the way for your family. A beacon of light in the darkness that he could not look away from. The quick conversations on his way to patrol the surface and you to teach the merlings were no longer sufficing; he wanted more. Merman!Nanami wanted to go home together, wanted to be in your presence from high tide to low, to know you inside and out, to be the thing that kept you tethered, the way you were for him.

For many moons, you two had been swimming around, grazing fingers and exchanging heated glances. In your eyes a curious, lingering depth could be found, enticing him to dive in, to succumb to the whirlpool and drown in all that you could give him. There was no doubt about it; you liked him back. He knew what he needed to do. 

The courtship began with small gifts like a small trident that he found from a shipwreck, fallen-off claws for your hair, and a hard-fought shark tooth as a protection charm. They were little trinkets that you could use every day; knowing you carried him with you as part of your routine made his heart soar. You accepted his gifts and his songs happily. 

But you deserve much more. So his search led him to the seafloor for something just as vibrant, as vivacious, and gorgeous as you. It was no easy feat but Merman!Nanami would not give up. He could not. Shaking off the persistent desire for mentorship from a pink-scaled guppy, he ventured into a burning, forbidden zone, where no mermaids or mermen dared look in the direction of – his fingers were sore and healing for weeks after he foolishly rummaged through the scalding rocks by the volcanic rift south of his pod’s coral palace, all to find a glowing emerald stone he had a friend fashion into a golden diadem. 

Of course, he had no regrets. 

At the full moon’s peak, when the whole Pacific Ocean’s humble citizens came together to celebrate the heightened forces that bind the community into a peaceful coalition with a feast, you two found each other in the crowd, practically drawn together, hearts beating as one. 

Your tails intertwined. Eyes locked. Voices humming the same tune. Palms pressed against the other, his fingers longer and webs slightly bigger, he led you through the other bodies searching for one another, the towers of coral, and rains of pearls, all the way up to the surface. Illuminated by the moon’s light, you looked up at him, shyly, and eagerly accepted his gift. It looked much better on your pretty face than he could have ever dreamed. 

“It’s beautiful, Kento.”

He breathed out, “Yes…you are. Uh, I mean, it is. No, you are. Beautiful. So beautiful.”

You laughed. “Thank you. But I do hope the night won’t end with just a dance and a crown, Kenny.”

Emboldened by the physical manifestation of his devotion, which weighed heavy upon your head, you reached up and kissed him. You shared the same air, fuelling his ambition and urging him to grip your hips with his calloused fingers. That was the furthest you two had ever gone, too shy to go too far too quickly. Nothing was holding either of you two back anymore. 

Turning ravenous, the kiss became sloppy and messy, saliva dripping down his chin, tongue mingling and teeth nibbling on sore lips. Merman!Nanami asked, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Ken…if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’ll drown you myself.”

“Always so violent,” he mused. “Alright, my love. Let me feel you.”

The rubbing and grinding of your lower halves together was driving him wild. Like an impish eel, your arm slithered down, dainty fingers expertly navigating the sensitive slit on his tail. 

Merman!Nanami gasped. No one but him had ever touched him like that. No one else had delved into the burning pocket there and felt the smooth skin inside, swollen with need. He jolted. Your fingers are softer than his, more gentle, and satiny. It felt like Olympus submerged. 

“Have you touched yourself here before, Ken? Be honest.”

Red-faced and a little ashamed, he admitted, “Yes. Sometimes it feels better than touching my cock.”

“Hmm, I bet. I’m sure you could cum just like this right?” With your spare hand, you coaxed out the hot length of his cock and rubbed up and down, thumbing the underside of his leaking cockhead. “Wow…you’re so big. I’m almost scared it won’t fit. But we’ll make it fit, right, Ken?”

“S-sweetheart, p-please.” He didn’t know what exactly he was begging for. All he could think about was how right it felt to have your body pressed so close to his, breaths mingling, and tongues exploring the wet caverns of parted mouths. Merman!Nanami let slip a frightened whimper when something foreign begun to grow from his scaled slit. “What’s happening? That -ngh!- t-that feels odd.”

You nipped his bottom lip, swallowing the bead of blood and moaning at the sweet rush of his addictive taste. “No one told you about this, Kenny? You’ve never found it yourself? Oh, you’re like a poor little guppy.”

Clinging onto your breast and flicking the nipple there, hidden under jellyfish-like tendrils, he demanded, “Don’t make fun of me.”

The giggles from your soft lips almost brought a smile to his. 

“Sorry, Kenny. It’s a spur. It’s supposed to make me feel good…here.”

His fingers were guided to your slit. He was a stuttering mess, overcome with delirium and flustered at finally being able to feel what he’d envisioned during late nights and had only heard about through seaweed vines from bragging mermen. Hot, sticky and exceeding expectations, Merman!Nanami could only fumble about, poking and prodding like a useless clownfish. You should have left once you saw his inexperience. He wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you held him tighter and whispered encouragements.

Similar to his own, your slit had thin-scales surrounding the vulnerable area. When he groped there, you shuddered. And inside, it was smooth and swollen. Once he got a grip, emboldened by the marks you were leaving on his skin and the pumping of your fist up and down his throbbing cock, he pushed his fingers deep inside, webs flexibly pushed back.

A strange shyness overtook you, unused to baring yourself to someone else, forcing you to hide your face in the crook of his neck. There, you dug your teeth into his flesh, sending venom into his bloodstream just as you drank his blood mercilessly. His hips stuttered. "Good girl...it's alright...keep -hah- drinking."

The venom was making him lightheaded. You'd penetrated him, your very essence coursing through his body and filling him up. It was addictive. Maddeningly so. In that moment, Merman!Nanami understood the obsession mated pairs had with drinking from each other until they were rendered paralysed and unmovable for days.

Shaking his head to keep focus, he wrangled through the euphoric haze derived from being able to sustain you to your mesmerising cunt.

Whereas his was only a shallow space which hid his cock, yours seemed to go on forever. Impossibly tight and delectably gummy, he found himself scissoring his fingers, not to stretch you in preparation as he knew he should have but rather, just to feel you. 

At the apex stood a small clump that, when rubbed in circles, elicits louder moans from you. That must have been what all the mermen of his age were so proud to have found, he realised. 

There were pleats by the entrance and then a pillowy area reminding him of the heads of jellyfish. He curled his fingers against it. You moaned. “Does that feel good? Hmm? Do you want more, sweetheart?”

You jerked him off faster and faster. The feeling , coupled with your delicious voice, was going straight to his head. “Yeah, Ken. Please.”

“Oh, so polite. What a good girl. Come here, sweetheart. Come give Kento a kiss.” The novelty of the feel of your lips might never wear off, he thought. It was a kind of bliss no one could ever deserve. And the mere suggestion that you’d welcome him so wholeheartedly, under the dazzling stars and full moon, embracing him – all of him – was sending him deeper and deeper into a world of joy he’d kill to keep. 

The breast covering you wore had torn off some time ago, leaving your bare flesh touching his. Manic, he found himself muttering anything that bubbled in his head. “I c-can’t believe I’m supposed to go inside here. In your pussy. You’re far too tight, like a clam.” 

Through whines and whimpers, you scolded him. “Don’t compare my pussy to a clam, Ken. That’s bad.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He swallowed hard. Truthfully, he wasn’t thinking. No one could think clearly when the most beautiful thing to have graced the depths of the sea is in their arms, moaning their name and baring their mark upon their head and on their supple body. 

Merman!Nanami sent vibrations through the water with his sudden thrums; your teasing tongue had found his gaping gills. He had never felt that kind of pleasure before. Poseidon be damned, he didn’t even know he was sensitive there. More and more you were teaching him all about the body he’d carried his whole life, awakening him to a world of wonders and pushing him to want more. 

“Oh, my darling pearl, can I put it in now? Please. I want to cum -hah- inside of you. I want to feel you. To be one with you.” You hastily mumbled affirmations into his mouth. He sighed, relieved and impatient. Clumsily, he lined up with his cock, thumb accidentally skimming his newly-discovered spur and hissing at the sensitivity there. Inch by inch, he made his way inside. “Fuck! Ah, fuck, so good, so tight, so -hngh!- warm.”

Feeling your gummy walls with his cock was so different than with his fingers; it was as if he could feel you better. You were scalding, softer than anything anyone could find in the sea and on land, he was willing to wager, and so tight he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Never in a million years. Not even if the gods themselves commanded it.

When he bottomed out and the spur at the top of the base of his cock met your clit, you both gasped. “K-ken…what a dirty mouth you have.”

“Forgive me, my love.” He pleaded, hips instinctively driving through your clenching walls. Merman!Nanami knew he should have taken things slow, should have been more romantic and made sure you were alright but your pussy was sucking him in like the most deadly current and he could only go along for the ride. “I just need to -hah- to make you mine. All mine.”

“I am yours, Ken. Always.”

A shaky smile filled your sight. “Thank you. Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I-I promise to treasure you for life.”

You pricked a finger against his canine and allowed him to suckle at the blood trickling out of it. Merman!Nanami whimpered at your taste, already feeling the powerful effects of your blood in his system. He sucked even more down his throat, suddenly finding himself so thirsty. As if urged on by a supernatural force, his hips gyrated his spur against your clit in tight circles. 

“That’s really -oh so good, Ken- sweet. But I want to h-hear you say you’re mine too.” He cooed and kissed your pout away.

“I’ve been yours before I knew that our souls are one, sweetheart. I was only ever made for you.” His fingers trailed along the fins lining your spine, touch light against the crevice. The membrane twitched just as your walls clamped down on his dick. “Don’t! Ah, f-fuck, don’t tighten on me like that.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging and flashing your sharp teeth. “Then don’t say -hngh!- romantic things to me. Ugh, fuck, I’m close, Kento. More. Give me more.”

“Yes, sweetheart, w-whatever you want.” Merman!Nanami was ramming and pounding and plunging into your quivering cunt. His spur was rubbing and grinding and kissing your pulsing clit, all while he tickled your spinal fins with one hand as the other kept your lower half in place. “I’ll give you the world. Anything to make you happy.”

Hand over his chest, feeling the rapid beating there, you said, “I only -ah, wait! Hey! I’m trying to be sweet too. Hmm soo good… you’re distracting me.” 

He whispered an apology on your cheek, not slowing down at all despite your complaints. “You’re already plenty sweet, my love. The sweetest. But go on, darling. Make my teeth rot, you adorable thing.”

In retaliation, you flicked his nipple just to watch his head be thrown back with a hiss. “I was saying…I only need you, Ken. Just you and your beautiful heart.”

“Say the w-word and I’ll -hah that’s it, sweetheart - I’ll take it out and give it to you.” And he meant every word. There would only ever be one deity he’d swear his life to and she was wrapped around his cock. Just one sign from you and he’ll roam the seas looking for whatever will make you happy.

Tails intertwined and no longer working to keep you two afloat, you both spiralled beneath the surface, falling deep into the depths of the water, uncaring of who could see. As far as he was concerned, there were only the two of you. You and your sweet laughter, your sloppy cunt, and loving embrace. 

The diadem on your head rattled with both the weight of the gemstone and the force of your rocking and jostling. You'd never looked more majestic.

So, when your mind-shattering orgasm, which left you a babbling mess on the crook of his neck, propelled him over a cliff, he painted your walls with a grunt. 

“Kento!���

There was no rhyme or rhythm to his thrusting, only a desperation to be emptied so you can be warm and filled up. Some drops of his cum were pooling out. He quickly scooped them up and brought them to your mouth. Finally, his cum wasn’t going to waste, beading into pearls in the water. You were absorbing them into your body, greedily gulping the spend and clamping for more. 

"Delicious, Ken...you've saved up a lot for me, haven't you?"

Merman!Nanami cradled your body as he slumped down on the seabed, sand disturbed. He was still inside you, albeit quickly softening, but neither of you made a move to get him out – the closeness was comforting. "All for you..."

Freshly fucked out, he still couldn’t grasp the fact that he finally touched your skin, tasted your kiss, and heard your melodious voice calling for him. It was everything he dreamed of and beyond. A life full of darkness, of loneliness, of swaying with the waves with no direction or destination ended. Together, everything laid out, bare for each other, you made vows that would last for an eternity. 

“We should probably go back to the party, Ken. Our friends will be looking for us.”

Merman!Nanami pinched your chin and tilted your head back. Unable to help himself, he stole another kiss, swallowing your moan. You giggled. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing the infectious laughter from your lips. If he could bottle it up and take it with him anywhere, he would, even if he had to sell his voice for the opportunity. 

“Hmm, I think they can wait after one more round, no, darling?”

You laughed even louder. “We’re not going to see them at all tonight, are we?”

He smiled. “No, I suspect we won’t.”

"You may not be planning on seeing us but we sure as Tartarus have been seeing you. A lot of you, actually. Perhaps too much, one could say."

Merman!Nanami's smile dropped and a deadpan expression took its place. "Hello, Gojo...and the entire pod."

[limerlove]

─── ·˚͙͘͡★ ❝ I KNOW SUNSHINE ❞

dykematch represents. exwife!abby x yearning!reader

sum. dr. anderson, a heartthrob to many, but at one point to you, she was only a broke college athlete with a soul that cared too much. now, she's your ex-wife that you just can't kick. an old friend's wedding brings you together. for one final time, can you finally bid the love of your life c'est la vie?

content warning. eighteen+, wc 10k. wedding!au, surgeon!abby, some college abby thrown in for fun, smut, strapsex, angst, fluff, grab your tissue babes.

here's my latest baby! on the real, i have been feeling very burned out in the writing community. especially tlou. but had to remind myself that writing can be fun when bitches aren't making it not so fun! this was honestly a very personal piece in some areas so, here's another chunk of my heart. hopefully i'll be back soon, mwah. and happy almost pride!

August, 2025. 

Greenery sprouts from around the bouquet, each vine hand-picked, every flower meticulously placed. An arrangement of lilies, pearly-white roses, and a sprinkle of tulips in your hand as you find the bride. The venue is something you wished didn’t make you think of your own. You kept reminding yourself today isn’t about you. 

Lola. 

Lola and Chris. 

You’d seen glimpses of her at the rehearsal dinner. Highlights  of blonde eclipsing your vision just for the moment but the sun seeping through the tall windows made its presence known instead. There was too much to do, too much to say to her, and none of it would come out right. 

What’s in the past is done. Right? 

You take a moment to take Lola in. After all, this is what it’s all about. True love. Never have you seen two people so perfect, standing the test of time. Through four years of college, and another four after, here she is. 

Ready to say forever in front of all her family and friends, their loved ones ready to synchronize the joyous cries in harmony. Lola and Chris. The love of their lives. 

They are the focus, until the last speech of the night, this is all you focus on. Even though Abby is a part of their wedding party. Desperately, you make an attempt to remain your composure when you’re walking down the aisle with Abby. You ignore the navy blue tie illuminating her eyes, or the arm she offers in silence as you wait for the wedding planner to give you your cue. 

There are thoughts. Pestering ones. Reminding you of four years ago, the two of you high on love, a wedding band around Abby’s finger, her hands barely able to stay off of you more than a second. When she used to look at you with unwavering devotion. 

Neither of you had been scorned by life yet. 

And you hoped Lola and Chris would be so lucky to never feel the burn. 

─── 

The second? The fourth? Wait, no, this has to be the third…right? 

In the echoes of your lonely chambers, party for two. A glass of whiskey and some sorrows to drown in. Locked in her admiring gaze, you watch as she dances with your five-year old niece. A gracious heart leads Abby to let the little bundle of joy  dance on top of her feet. 

There’s a twinkle, blinding as a new-born star, and it reminds you of what it feels like to be a constellation she chases. One fleeting star desperately attempts to connect to the closest neighbor twinkling in the midnight sky. Always wondering if the newest will shine as much as the last. 

Ellie will momentarily start making gagging noises to your left. Right on cue, she snaps her fingers in front of your face, bursting your fantasies. 

Reality is brutal. 

“How long?” Ellie questions you, ivy-green eyes watching you like a hawk. 

“Still the same — a year.” 

Then Abby’s laughing with your mom, leaning into her warmth. Even after Christmas passes, another thanksgiving drifts from the calendar, and you wonder if she’s alone. One too many Valentines you should be spending with her, you can’t help but wonder if things could be different. 

The girlfriend you refused to bring leaves a stain in your mouth, the fight the two of you had before, it’s all so fucking cliche. Another wasted relationship to forget the horror you’re living in. Another breakup you’ll pretend didn’t happen at the sake of your dignity. She can’t know you’re single, again. 

It’s too obvious to anyone who’s watching, divorced for three years, separated for four and it's only been a year since the last time you were together. A year since she’s been gone, radio silence engulfing you the second she left town. 

The well-renowned heart surgeon, Dr. Anderson is called all across the globe. Her two feet are never on the ground enough to call any place a home. Her speciality didn’t always have her chasing both ends of the globe, fleeing to where she’s needed at a moment notice. 

She was leagues above her peers and even her superiors. Abby running circles around them. Putting them in a continuous loop. Until she kept moving to the next big thing. Something had to give and it wasn’t her career. 

The final dagger in your cracking marriage was when she missed your anniversary for the second year in a row. Your birthday before that. And the wilted flowers you couldn’t bring yourself to discard months before that even. 

But neither of you were able to quit each other. Long after the ink dried with every dotted line signed and you still found a way to crawl into her sheets. There wasn’t anyone else who compared to her but you were still trying to find it. 

The moment you truly fall in love, when it’s undeniable and it consumes you, where you finally feel peace with their comfort surrounding every worry you’ve had. 

But maybe lightning only strikes once. A bolt of love with only her initials carved in by the magic of gods, each promise she’d broken forged into a blossom that ends — painfully does it linger — like a spring begging to kiss summer. 

“You’re breaking it tonight.” Ellie shakes her head. You can’t take your eyes off of Abby for more than one second. “Neither of you can help it.” 

“I have a girlfriend, Els.” A vicious burn chokes your throat as the whiskey burns and settles disparagingly in your stomach. The lie smothers you all the same.  “A smart, beautiful girlfriend.” 

“Listen, I love you. You know that but none of your relationships are ever going to work when you still look at Abby like this.” She finds it necessary to emphasize the bright light in a shadow of green. “All of these years and you’re still not over her.” Ellie swiveles in the bar stool to face you. “Plus, we both know she’s not as innocent as she looks.” 

There’s silence for a bit, downing the rest of your drink, hoping the burn coating your throat travels to your heart, dimensioning all hope beating for the woman you’ve never been able to shake. 

Everyone expects you to. Like it’s easy. As if you didn’t think vows are forever. Life has never been so unkind to you. You’re more fortunate than most. 

“Do you really need it explained?” 

“No.” You speak as if you’re wounded but all she did was point out the obvious. Abby is a glaring truth you tuck underneath your seat, the missing raspberry-chapstick in the bottom of your purse. A trinket. Better off hidden than searching for something that is no longer intact. 

“I can make this work. Abby doesn’t always have to be the person I run back to. I can move on and heal or whatever the fuck it is normal people do. I can do this.” It’s a mantra to convince yourself, but not even Ellie is convinced. 

Ellie smirks as Abby makes her way over to you but you’re too caught up in ordering another whiskey to stop yourself from doing something idiotic. A brainless action that would only bring your gratification for a moment, before your hands would be coated in your lovers’ blood the second it’s over. 

She’ll always be a phenomenon, the dime of a dozen. A bundle of your highest dreams wrapped in the warmest blanket. Fine lines deepening the apple of her cheeks, not to mention the wrinkles when she furrows those maddening eyebrows. There is no denying how much you’ve always loved her. 

You’re truly doomed. 

───

“Old fashioned, please.”

An open bar was the best decision of the night. Everyone was buzzing, congratulating the happy couple, nursing their favorite drink in hand. Everlasting love for the blessed ones or a vice of your choice for the insufferable. The ones who had already ventured down the aisle and couldn’t make it on the other side. 

It’s why you couldn’t stand the particularly young bartender eyeing up Abby like she’s a piece of meat. Before you never had felt the weed of jealousy wrap around your throat, suffocating the joy right out of you, but they might as well be thorns protruding through your sternum for every second her eyes linger on Abby.  

Silky locks of midnight-blue and hazel eyes taunt you as she stutters and drops the glass she’s been holding right in front of Abby. As of the mere sight of her warrants for precious glass to be broken. She just laughs it off as the woman who makes Abby’s drink blooms a deep shade of pink. 

“Let me guess…The Macallan?” Abby gestures to the glass of whiskey you’re nursing. 

“Maybe.” A glimmer in your eyes, tightly pursing your lips in attempts to keep at least one thing closed tonight. But she leans forward, her nose sniffing above the rim. 

With her eyes beaming up at you, blonde-eyelashes curling to kiss her sandy freckles, she smiles. A sparkle. Another flame so warm it matches the shade of blue in her eyes, cursing you with the love she once felt. Almost making you believe it could happen again. 

“That’s definitely Macallan. Your favorite. How could I ever forget?” Abby offers a question as her cologne isn’t so invasive, there’s space for you to breathe, but with her close you doubt there’s enough oxygen to spare. 

“It’s only because of New York. I’m not sure I could ever forget it.” 

“We went through, I don’t know—” Abby tries to recall, but you don’t need to be told. You’re fully aware of what happened. 

The first time Abby whisked you away on a spontaneous trip before life got so hectic. Labored gust of her minty-fresh breath kiss your neck as she sinks herself into your warmth, a blank canvas for her lips to mark. Abby does it quietly, the summer sun raining light on your silky skin, and she decides to shower you with more of her love.

Out of habit as if she’s said it a million times before. But it’s the first. Naively, she whispers those three little words. Lips of subtlety rest against your ear as they are released. A moment of confusion has you turning around, eyes squinting against the light of the sun, making you think twice if you heard her right. 

And you did. 

The memory suffocates, morphs into a dream, and then you find yourself lucky enough to barely remember it. A blatant lie, but if you believe it hard enough, it could be the truth. 

“Three bottles in one night and then you held my hair when I puked my guts five minutes later that morning and told me it made you love me even more.” Your face scrunches up and Abby knocks her shoulder with yours. 

“Do you remember later that night when you let me do that thing with my t—” 

“I’m still right here!” Childishly, Ellie throws her hands up on the hair before she takes another swing from her beer. 

“Williams, I sure have missed the shriek of your voice.” Abby leans over, throwing her arm over the backrest of your chair, making herself comfortable. 

As if no time has passed, the three of you slip into easy conversation. You wished for this. A glimpse into the life you once had. For a time, little moments just like these only existed in your dreams. Even when the two of you were still living under the same roof — in your cruel reality it still felt like a fantasy — one that was entirely too unattainable. 

It makes you think of when it all started. When life felt easier. 

───

The College Years: University of Seattle 

Ellie had been the first to set your sights on you, well, before Abby at the very least. Pining only ran so deep and your consistent rejection became a heavy cross for her to bear. Over your first semester, Ellie became a confidant, and her crush melted in friendship. 

She’s the first person you’d ever trusted with your harboring secret. A sophomore in college and you finally felt yourself settling in. Your first year, you only allowed yourself to drown in your studies. A strict regimen. The only real friend you did make was Ellie and only because she couldn’t land herself in your sheets. 

But regardless of how the situation had started, her presence in your life became concrete. A month into the semester of your second year, Ellie thinks it’s a great idea to start dragging you into parties. Like that’s the most obvious choice in the world. Yet, you’re still warming up to the idea. 

Cheap beer, frat boys trying to make their presence known to any girl who walks by, whatever pop song they deemed necessary to funnel them to the next raunchy beat. None of it really had ever been your scene. Ellie thrived in it when she chose to. When she didn’t feel like it, the two of you would silently read books in your insanely small dorm room. 

You agreed to go to one this week. Even if it pains every bone in your body. Ellie flips through the pages of a book you recommended to her as you emerge from the bathroom, practically done. For the past hour, you envied Ellie’s nonchalant red converse and navy-blue flannel attire. It must be nice to not have to do yourself up to the nines to feel comfortable. 

You craved it. 

For a moment, you contemplated an outfit change but then there was a disturbance at the door. A loud one, too. 

Ellie shrugs her shoulders as if to say — this is your dorm, not mine — and she’s right but it doesn’t make it any less nerve wracking. 

Maybe Dina has someone stopping by and she double booked? You take a moment to glance at her made bed before opening the door. 

“Lola, would you please—” The snarky blonde who is in the middle of an eye roll, stops in her tracks. Freckled and pale cheeks coated in a bashful crimson. “Oh, right, you’re not Lola.” 

“Am I supposed to be?” There’s a confidence in your tone, enough where Ellie puts her book down to watch. 

“It’s Chris’ girlfriend, she’s always going about me taking a long time to get—” The woman pauses realizing you have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about. “And…….you don’t know Chris. Wow, really making an ass out of myself, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

Ellie laughs, a bit too loudly, and it’s enough to warrant her attention as she sneaks a peek into your dorm. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude on you and your girlfriend—” She sighs, hiding the bag she had in her hand behind her back. “Lola is probably just fucking with me and sent me the wrong room on purpose. She says I’m overly confident and I apparently need to be humbled, desperately. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, believe it or not.” 

“So, are you?” 

“Am I what?” She questions, a smirk etching its way into her full cheeks. A bright-glint in her eyes personified to tease you. 

“Overly-confident?” 

“Me? Never, sunshine.” As if she’s looking for a sign. 

You give yourself permission to look at her and there’s a lot to be confident about. Her staturing height, golden waves of blonde, piercing-blue eyes creating round edges around your soul. There’s a sincerity there. You wonder if she’s even aware of it. 

She looks simple enough, a white button down loose and opened, even slightly wrinkled. A pair of vintage denim shorts, a wash of pale-blue fitting loosely on her thighs with a graphic tee that brings out her eyes even more. 

She’s tan, clearly athletic, and definitely a flirt by the looks of it. The interaction is too overwhelming and she’s too warm. You don’t even know her name. Nor do you have any intention to. She’s terrifyingly self-assured, batting her blonde eyelashes at you as if she’s waiting for you to paint her golden. 

“Well, I hope you find Lola and Chris.” The beautiful woman in front of you, equally as muscular as you’ve seen from anyone on campus, blushes. But you’re too in your head to notice. “Have a good night—” 

“Abigail. But you can call me Abby.” 

The next couple weeks blend together. All of it is more or less the same. A string of classes you’re trying to keep up with, caffeine you’re pumping your body with, and a mysteriously confident girl who won’t leave your mind. 

Ellie waits until it’s been three weeks to torment you with it. You’re surprised she even found the patience. 

“You know who that girl was, right?” 

“What girl?” The two of you are walking back from the cafe, headed back to your dorm room before the both of you call it a night. Ellie insisted she make sure you get home safely which you appreciate. 

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” 

To be fair, you did. But you didn’t want to make it obvious. 

“I’ve seen her around, yeah. I don’t know who she is and it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I’m going to see her again. She’s just someone who knocked on the wrong door.” 

“So, the captain of the rugby team, every lesbian’s dream girl is going around campus asking about you and you’re not going to even bite?” 

“What?” You take a beat, trying to process the information. “She is not—” 

Ellie shrugs her shoulders, as if it’s a fact you have to stomach. A truth that should be sweet to swallow. To you, it feels more than overwhelming. It’s an unbearable weight. The last thing you’ve ever wanted was attention. With Abby dialed into you, for whatever reason, is too much for you to carry. 

“Well tell her you’re my girlfriend. She already thinks so, there’s no harm in—” 

“She totally doesn’t.” 

Her response crosses you with confusion. “But why wouldn’t she when I never corrected her?” 

“Because she asked me and I said you weren’t.” Ellie mischievously smiles. 

You think about punching her in the lip, but decide against it. 

It's nearly two months before you see Abby again. For a while, you thought you would never have to see her again. The more you gave yourself time to think about it, the more of a distraction she felt. This is exactly what you had been so strictly against. 

You didn’t have time for that. A budding romance. No matter how tempting her pretty muscles and pink lips seem to be — it’s not like you’re even interested. She's just a jock with a pension for something she can’t have. It didn’t necessarily help that she wouldn’t stop asking Ellie about you. 

Every time, Els would come back to you with her eyes shimmering in a vibrant-green. A smile nearly revealing itself in the light. A new question about you, a new interest in something you like. Abby loves asking about you. Ellie makes sure you know it too. 

“If she’s so fond of me, why can’t she be bothered to talk to me?” 

“Because she would scare you off. You need time to warm up. Something where you don’t feel so much pressure.” 

The truth nips at her skin like the prickly ends of a cactus. Abby would scare her off. The popularity she carries is enough to make her run sixty miles in the other direction. Let alone everything else about her that makes you nervous. The first encounter was a hail-mary. In the comfort of your own room, there was an extension of yourself to latch onto. 

Outside of it, there was nothing warm and comforting, just cold heartless feins threatening to suck your discipline dry. 

“I hate that you know me so well.” 

“I know.” Ellie nudges your shoulder with hers. 

The local pub is quiet, you’re nursing a beer Ellie had been able to score with her fake id. Suddenly, the discussion of Abby being brought up made you question the size of this table. And before you could say a word, a couple of unnamed faces funneled in with the woman of the hour.

You wonder if the couple clinging onto each is Lola and Chris. Dina follows right behind them as she ends a phone call. 

“Ellie, you did not—” 

“Oh, I so did. You need to get fucked by a b—”

“Hi, Sunshine.” 

Abby’s voice tugs at your heart, so badly you have to physically put your hand over your chest. Lola and Chris introduce themselves as they delve into a conversation with Dina and Ellie, like they knew each other. 

Like everyone knows everyone but you. The whole night Abby is persistent. An open book, she wants to talk about anything. Everything. All of this seems to be so easy for her. A couple times, you find yourself getting distracted with her toned-arms, they’re even larger than Chris’ slimed arms. 

Abby asks you questions and involves you when she gets looped into conversation with Ellie or Lola. You like it when she always asks your opinion, giving you her undivided attention when others go off to the next topic. The golden signet ring on her pinky shines in the dually-light bar. Catching against the reflection of the mirror adjacent to the oak-stained wall. 

“You wanna pick a song? I think I might have some cash on me. Or some coins, something of currency.” Abby steps off the stool, lending you a hand even if it’s a short step for you, and you still take her guidance. 

“Uh, sure. I don’t see why not.” 

“Is that almost excitement I’m hearing, sunshine?” 

When your face sulks back into something moppy and annoyed, Abby laughs as bright as the sun. 

“C’mon, don’t let my optimism put you off. I’m not nearly as bright as I seem. You just have that effect on me.” She says what you’re thinking. Kiss her, run away, hit Ellie for making you painfully aware of the beautifully-golden girl who holds some type of affection for you. 

Abby stands behind you as you sift through the music on the jukebox. A collection of classics from the eighties and nineties. Even some lingering songs from the seventies have made its way. You’re not even paying attention, not really. You’re not sure if Abby wants to torture you, but she stand behind you, a fraction off to the side as she extends her arm across to the right, leaning into even more. 

“You pick. I can’t decide.” 

“Okay, but on one condition.” 

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not gonna like this.” Abby just smiles, whispering in your ear that you have nothing to worry about. 

“Just a dance, one song.” 

“Abby, you should know I—” 

“What? You don’t like girls?” You can tell she’s joking. The small joke even makes you laugh. The two of you both knew how much you’ve been ogling, not really letting her out of your sight, even if it’s for a minute long. 

“Abby.” You warned and then she dials back her flirting, telling you to go on, as she scrolls through the list of songs to choose from. 

“Go on, sunshine. Tell me the devastating news.” 

“I don’t date. I don’t want to. It’s not something I want to focus on.” Abby chooses a song before twirling you in her arms. It gives you no option but to latch onto her, arms thrown around her neck once the two of you settle into each other. 

“And how firm do you feel right now in that decision?” There’s no teasing, she’s genuinely asking as she holds you, in a bar full of staring people, she couldn’t care less. If you’re not careful, you might fall in love with her this very fateful second. 

“Pretty good.” You meet her eyes, as she inches forward, her chest pressed against yours and Abby leans her foreheads against yours. A breath full of mint kissing your luscious lips, a strawberry-balm coating them a deep tint of red. 

“And what about now?” She wants you to lean in. To give into the selfish devil on your shoulder, or the angelic soul whispering in your ear, whatever brings you closer to her. 

The song is over but the two of you haven’t even struck the first chord. 

───

You think of your almost first kiss with Abby. How deeply you felt for her even before you knew her as intimately as you do now. Even when the years apart sever you, the nerve endings binding you together barely holding on, you’ll always have that moment. 

An almost. It’s laughable how relevant all of those moments feel just as you are now. Almost a lifetime later. It makes you think of the life you once had, the one you never took for granted, but you soon would learn she would. 

Abby was never some dumb jock who was careless and reckless. There’s naivety that blooms in your youth, and somewhere along the way, you grow up. The leaves of your knowledge become weathered, the colors change, and suddenly what made you so green turns into a numbing-brown. Until you fall into something new. 

Even now, you still cling to the memories of her. The novel acts of love and the ones forgotten that made your blood run cold. 

Late nights watching your favorite horror movies while Abby cooks a dish she knows you love. Or when she stops on her way home to get you a bottle of your preferred white wine. The little things she used to do for you suddenly fell into acts of service that never happened until it was just you and the bottom of the bottle each night, wishing Abby was there with you. 

No one truly knew how this worked. How you and Abby are so amicable, so kind to one another after the divorce was finalized. It’s easier when the two of you are still in love, circumstances pulling the two of you in different directions but there’s still so much love. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed the cocky jock everyone fawned over.” Ellie jokes, “But truly, it’s good to see you. Even if it’s for these two crazy love birds. Lola and Chris, god she’s such a saint.” 

“If that ain’t the fucking truth.” Abby and Ellie ding their glasses together. 

It’s nice to see the two of them together but you know Ellie. She’s up before you have time to blink. She’s always been the biggest supporter for you and Abby. And she so badly wants the two of you to work. Whether the pressure feels good or it doesn’t, she places it there. 

The words she spoke to you junior year of college still ring in your ear. 

One day, I’m going to find the love Abby and you have. I want someone to look at me like that. So full of love. Of faith. Like there’s a testimony waiting to be written in her eyes. That’s how Abby looks at you. I want to believe love exists like that for everyone. Even for someone like me. I haven’t forgotten you rejected me by the way. 

Classic Ellie. 

Without so much as a word, she excuses herself when Dina pleads for a dance and she so freely gives it — you wish it could’ve been this easy for you. Like she believed it would be. 

A love full of faith and promise. Now you just had a badgered testimony. 

“Where is she?” Abby asks the moment Ellie is gone, it’s the first thing she wanted to ask but she waits until the two of you are alone. She won't say her name, not when she still feels the burn. The ache in her stomach when Iris hard launched the both of you online. 

“Home.” It stings more than Abby expects it too but she takes it on the chin. There's still silence as the two of you sit comfortably, leaning your head against her supportive shoulder. 

You cared for her. You hated that it felt good to see the jealousy rage in her eyes. For once, she didn’t hide what she felt behind her impenetrable mask, one that was built over time, but it was short lived. 

“I’m sorry, Abby. If I had known I would have never—I never would have gone there.” 

It all comes flooding back like ivory wine before it spoils into crimson. A year ago when it all blew up in your face. Even if you didn’t know Abby so well, an imbecile would know it’s why she disappeared. Never coming home after, ignoring your texts with a dryness you hadn’t experienced in years. 

If you could take it all back, you would. Abby tells you it’s fine but she forgives a lot when she loves you. It’s another slice to your heart; you’ll never stop bleeding. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” There’s a wall in front of her eyes, keeping you from knowing a thing. It hadn’t been much different when the two of you were married. Always so much to hide, very little room for you to be let in. 

You loved the girl who was an open book, somehow the both of you had lost her. 

“No, we don’t have to talk.” Abby smirks as she talks a sip of her drink. 

“You’re such a cheeky shit.” You nudge your knee against hers as you lean closer to her, thick and muscled thighs shifting towards you, sandwiching your legs between hers. “I guess some of us don’t really change.” 

“I’ve changed plenty—” Abby places her hand on your thigh, playing with the flimsy material of your dress, enjoying the slit in your dress exposing smooth skin in the beeline of her vision. 

“Yeah, totally.” 

“I have.” Dragging her fingers along your thigh as she tests the waters and she rises higher, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as she recites every inch of surface from memory. “A lot of things have changed for me recently.” 

“Like what?” You’re the definition of pathetic, fawning over her every word as if she’s the first to say each one. 

“Different things, my life, my um—” She pauses for a moment before she bites her lip, a heavy sigh leaving her lips but it’s one of relief. “My job.” 

There’s some disposition in your heart, how it feels to be lost back in a past memory. Eternally, a glimpse of your pleading meets a moment you keep under lock and key. 

But you don’t ask. Anxiously you gulp down the rest of your drink. You’re not a fan of how it burns but it’s better than giving into what she wants. Giving her the satisfaction of being enamoured with the possibility of her being home. It’s what you dreamed of four years ago. 

You wanted to believe the well has dried up — she’s too late. Even the idea planted in your mind sounds falsified. There’s an abundance of desperation threatening to make home, torturing the life out of you with the greediness rooted in fresh soil. 

It begs for a chance to blossom. 

“You can ask me. I won’t bite, promise.” 

With cheeks, rosing red like cherries, you wonder what else finds itself blossoming beneath the surface. 

You take the safer route. “What country are you going to this time?” The sorrow in your voice is palpable. 

Abby ignores you. 

“You know that green and white house in the countryside, the fields so open you could get lost in them, the one we always talked about. Do you remember it?” 

“Abby, I hope you have a point to all of this or perhaps you’re just feeling particularly cruel.” 

Of course you remember it. The amount of times you’ve come into town and passed by it. At one point, it’s what the both of you wanted until your needs and hers got lost in the shuffle. Two hearts of the same beat drifting from one another in tragic harmony. 

“I bought it. I’m flying to England to do one last surgery that my assistant already had scheduled last month and I’m coming home. Opening a private practice here. I’m done flying out. If patients want to see me, they can come here.” 

“W-What, um—” You stutter out, trying to think of a reasonable response, anything but kissing her or crying. It’s not fair. It’s not right. This is all you had wanted. 

Four years ago. 

─── 

April, 2024. 

“A-Abby, oh god—” 

She’s smirking like a goddamn idiot. All meat and muscle. The strong v-line that made you wanna slap it right off of her. No one should ever look this good. It’s such a punishment. A curse. Devil’s karma on a double-edge sword but somehow you’re eating both ends. 

“Mhm, that good? I know you’ve always been loud, baby, but you’re singing like a perfect angel.” Abby grunts as she thrust upwards, watching you squirm as your full-seated on the baby-blue strap she’s fucking you with. “Those pretty girls that keep posting you not enough?” 

“Are you jealous?” Lifting an eyebrow but she doesn’t respond. Thrusting into you at a slow pace, watching you slowly crumble before her haunting eyes, never straying for even a moment. 

“Jealous of what exactly? It’s not like they hold a fucking candle to me. I’ll snuff them out before they have a chance to light the match.” With a gentle hand, she guides you closer to her, your forehead pressed against hers, meeting her deep thrusts with a slow grind. 

Her coaxing arm wraps around your waist, tickling your spine as she does so, searing your lips to hers. It coats your entire body with a heat, blossoming at your heart before it spreads into every inch of your body. Laying waste to any part of you trying to go anywhere but here. 

“I’m not as easy as you think, Abby.” 

“Never said you were. For everyone else, I'm sure it’s very difficult…if you aren’t me.” Abby does the thing. Lips touching but despite the desire, she enjoys watching you chase. You want her, every piece of her. Each part she’s shown you, you cling onto it like a lifeline, hoping she’ll unravel another momentum for you to hold onto. 

Abby will leave and the time spent with you is all you have left. Trying to think of anything else, you slip into the role she wants you to play. It’s all you can do. 

“God, you’re so full of yourself.” 

“I think you’re kind of full of me at the moment.” Planting her feet on the bed she pushes a few thrusts that shut you up, gasping as your lips brush against her she doesn’t take the bare. 

Abby is perfectly content with watching you fall apart, a speciality she hasn’t had the opportunity of exercising while she’s been away. You fall into the crook in her neck, lips kissing at the exposed flesh as you take what she gives. 

“I know, babygirl, you love my cock too much to stay away. I can hear how wet you are for me. Singing to me with your pussy like the pretty angel you are.” Abby moans when your teeth sink in, sucking at the flesh until you’re satisfied with the marks you’re leaving behind. 

“Please— A-Abby, you love to talk so much shit, would you just make me come?” 

“Then work for it, baby.” That’s all it takes before you’re bouncing on her cock, riding as deep as Abby will allow. Lazily, she props herself on her elbows as she takes a look at the show. The double A’s on your left hip are still inked and Abby smooths her thumb over it. 

A smile she can’t help but show. 

“God, Abby would you just—” 

“Still a brat.” Abby chuckles, slapping your ass in the process which causes you to shudder. 

Leaning over you whisper in her ear, “So, you do remember a thing or two.” 

Abby flips you over, your head plush against her satin pillows, sinking your neck so you lay comfortably. Dildo still laying perfectly within you, as she smooths her calloused fingertips on your thighs, smoothing along the surface. 

A much more gentle touch than what you’ve been used to in the past year. You didn’t mind it to be fast, rough, even a little messy at times. You enjoyed it when it was with someone new. Thrived in the throes of a meaningless fuck, where a delicate hand wasn’t required. If you need to get off with no complications, it’s the best option. 

Abby was never just a quick fuck. It wasn’t how any of this started and when she needs a smidge of stress to relieve, she’s always been a woman to take her time. Wind you up so tight, her hand is the only release you’re willing to grab onto. A tidal wave she wants to bring to the shore until you’re paralyzed by her wave. 

“It seems like you need to be reminded of who you're with.” With a look of curiosity flourishing under the prosperity of spring, she spreads your legs far enough to make room for her build. 

You take a few heartbeats to check out her physique, which has only grown stronger since the last time you’ve seen her. High and mighty with toned shoulders that would put Hercules to utter shame, her six pack still fully in tack with freckles adorning every part of her body. 

Never would you grow tired of looking at her in all her glory, but that’s all anyone sees. The first time she opened up to you is the moment you fell in love with her. Maybe there’s more. You seem to lose track of them all. 

You’re the first to ever ask me anything about myself, you know? Most women just flirt with me, compliment my body, or they fuck me with their eyes first glance. Of course, it’s nice, but it’s hard feeling like I’m anything more than a body for them to use. Like that’s all I’m good for. 

I do believe you’re more than what other people reduce you to. I’m more interested in this amazing and kind brain of yours. Everything else is just a bonus. It’s a rarity to find someone as beautiful on the outside as they are on the inside. I think that’s what makes you so special, Abby. 

The moment flashes, a film rolling behind your eyes and you almost feel her words lace over skin as if you’re transported to the exact moment she said them. 

Not a soul sees the person that you see. They don’t see the curve of her smile when you call out her name. When she’s nervous, she’ll pull at the ends of her golden strands, threading at her split ends she so desperately needs to cut. 

Abby loves to read books, but she’ll cry right in front of you if you get a book she’s been eyeing but won’t buy for herself. Don’t have the time, it’s what she always used to say. The high demands of her career never allowed for such a thing. 

No hobbies, no life, and certainly no love. 

Memories transform into recent nightmares, the horrors of your insecurities bloom in the root of your mind, reminding you of all the ways you can’t be enough for her. On somber nights when your imagination is feeling particularly cruel, you have dreams of the nights you used to have. A simple dream where it doesn’t end in divorce and indifference.  

“Hey, are you okay?” Her soft voice breaks you of the self-captured spell you cursed yourself in. “What’s wrong?” 

This is the part you loathe and it’s almost enough to boil the blood in your veins. It’s not her fault she knows you like the back of her hand. One glance and she knows if you’re upset, gleefully happy, or steaming with jealousy. Abby can see it all. 

“M’good,” But you know the words won’t be enough. You know she’ll want a reason. It’s one you can’t freely give, even if it’s what she wants. “I missed you, that’s all.” 

And that much is true. The sun yearns for the moon, but the two are always destined to be apart. Her aspiration to be the best in her career is always being held over anything else held near and dear to Abby. You would never fault her for it, it’s why you served the divorce papers in silence — maybe it’s why she signed them without a second thought — abstinence is better than rejection. 

“I miss you, too. I always do.” Even if it’s selfish, Abby can’t help herself. 

You lose yourself in the tidal wave of affection, bound to be pulled by her light. A star that was never meant to be yours to begin with but you still couldn’t help but chase. 

A month? A couple weeks? Then she’ll be boarding a new flight, to a new state, country, or continent and she’ll forget all about you. All you need is a moment. One of self-sacrifice. The heart barely beating in your chest will chastise you for it later, but for now, you have this one night with her. 

A single night to pretend she’s still yours.  

Instead of telling her how much you don’t want her to go, or that you never should have filed for divorce, you allow your lips to melt into hers. You see an island of sapphire, an entire land of love blazing in her eyes, before you allow yourself to get lost in her touch. 

It’s when the scorch of the sun seems worth it. Any moment you’re close to her, feeling the abundance of devotion laced in her velvet tongue, whispering promises she never intends to keep. The potential of more rumbles beneath, waiting to catch her, but she’s always running off in the opposite direction. 

This is all you have. With salacious greed, you welcome it like the sin nestled in your heart. You feel her movements still, but you pull her closer, a soft plea falls from your lips reeks of desperation but you don’t have half a mind to care. 

“You know I’ll give you whatever you want but I’m not going to keep going unless you ask me to.” Abby whispers in the moonlight room. It’s so gentle, if you couldn’t help but look anywhere but her you might have missed it. 

“I-I’m fine, Abby. Really.” You promise her, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Her accusatory eyes dial in, squinting so loudly at you, “You’re about two seconds away from crying.” 

“It’s….the cock….it’s too much.” Trying to keep a flat face, you bite your lip, before the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. 

“You’re still not a very good liar, baby.” Abby purrs. Her voice goes an octave lower than she needs it to. “It’s not the cock. I’ve fucked you with bigger, so why don’t you use your words and tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.” 

“Last time this happened, I cried for three days after you left and I made a promise I wouldn’t be here again and now I’m here and I know as soon as this ends you’ll forget this ever happened and go on with your amazing career and yet again I’ll be left in the dust to fend for myself and—” 

“Woah, baby, slow down. Alright? Take a deep breath and breathe. You’re getting yourself worked up, okay?” 

“But it’s the truth. You’re not even denying it.” You exasperate, groaning as you’ve overcomplicated what was supposed to be a fuck. Only a fuck. But it never is. Not when you’ll always be consumed by your love for her. Not when she’s everything you want. 

You couldn’t be just a meaningless one-night stand. For anyone else? You could. But not to the woman who you love beyond comprehension. 

Abby wrestles with herself. Contemplate her next words and you see the exact moment she gives into something you silently wish for. In only a language she understands. 

A silent wish to be granted — tell me how important I am to you too. 

She leans down, mirroring your position from earlier, with her scarred cheek pressed against your cheek as she delicately whispers, “I think about you every second of every day. I spend every minute missing this. Every hour apart I wish for this, being close to you, pretending things aren’t the way I’ve made them. But I can't change the past, so I can focus on making you feel good —  I’ll be yours forever even if you aren’t mine.” 

“Do you really mean that?” 

“Yes, I do.” Abby confesses to you, sealing her promise in her lips. 

Abby gives sweet pecks along your neck as she peppers your face with litters of love. Making her way back to your lips once again, searing her love until you feel every bit of it. Hoping it’s enough for you to hold onto. 

Abby groans as she starts to move her hips, and god do you take it so fucking well. Picking up right where the two of you left off, but this time you wrap your legs around her waist, allowing her to fuck you at a new angle. 

It’s then when she starts to pick up the pace, brutal hips snapping forward as she lets herself go. The power of her thrust sends the headboard fleeing to the wall. The worn out bed frame she won’t bother to replace creaks under the weight, threatening to snap. 

“No one is as sweet as you, can take my cock like you do. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” She spills all her secrets, the ones threatening to come out of her mouth all night but you still hear them. 

It’s getting her off just as much as it does for you. But she wants you there faster. With a sly of hand she applies pressure on your bundle of nerves, your swollen clit thumping from being touched by its owner, the only one who knew how to pull the string just right. 

A symphony Abby created; no one else stood a chance. 

She watches as you pull yourself closer to her, bringing her small tits against your chest, grabbing you by the hips, losing herself in each thrust. The whimpering slips, any effort to conceal gets pulled from the soft strokes to your clit. 

Tugging at her blonde strands as you pull her lips towards yours again as Abby fucks you as if it’s an art form. Clenching her stomach as she hears you aggressively getting louder, with each thrust there’s a line being drawn from you to her, forever cementing her dedication of vows already broken. 

“Abby, I’m—” 

“I know sweet girl, you can let go for me. I got you.” Abby whispers silently into the night as she gets you through it. The moment your body is convulsing around 

her, grabbing any part of her you can, she kisses you the moment you start to come. 

Always, she’s been one for the details. Paying attention to every little thing about you. Nonsense stories you half-expect her to listen to, never goes unnoticed by her. From remembering your mother’s favorite cake, to your favored choice of sour candy, or how you take your coffee in the morning — Abby pays attention to everything. 

It wasn’t enough she was the most charming woman you’ve ever met, she had to be an angel too. Even through the vicious fights, moments as sharp as a razor blade, she never seemed to leave a mark. Still, Abby was soft. Like a perfectly melted marshmallow in the fire pit, roasted around all the edges but she never seems to burn. 

She looks at you with a wondrous love, shattering-encompassing forever that never comes. One you’ll die waiting for it. 

Quickly you remove yourself from the bed, suddenly the sheet turns into hot lava, scorning you as she looks upon you with admiration. A love you can’t afford to keep any longer. 

“I have to go.” You find your top to be torn by Abby’s hands. 

Putting a pair of boxers on her body, she drifts into her closet, finding her favorite shirt before she helps guide it on your naked frame. 

“This was the last time.” Setting eyes on her, meticulous hand smoothing the cotton in hopes it might merge with your skin. A part of her potentially entangled with you, forever. “We can’t keep doing this. It’s not good for either of us. Neither one of can seem to move on—” 

“I never wanted to move on or a divorce.” Abby confesses but it’s falling on deaf ears, you won’t meet her eyes as you look for the other boot gone missing. 

“Abby, you chose your career. I don’t blame you for it but you did. This will never work. You signed the papers without even fighting. You gave up and I’m not blaming you — I did too.” 

“But what if things changed? What if my job changed and I was here?” She’s desperate, clinging onto anything to make you stay. She wishes you had malice, screaming, even a slap to her stomach or thigh, a pinch to keep her from this ongoing nightmare. 

You kissed her sweetly, and there’s poison on your lips and she’s the only antidote. 

“We both know it never will. The world always needs you more. And I’m just—” Bitterly, her ignorance crunches like dead leaves under your boots. Walking you out the door, in what you hope will be the last. 

You can’t afford for this to happen again. Old habits seeping into you and she’s the most difficult one to kick. 

“But what if something changed?”

What if I changed? 

“Abby?” 

“Yeah, sunshine?” The name wounds you. 

“Don’t do that.” You want to scream, punch a wall, wish for a different future than the one you were given. But your kindness seeps in. The faith of love you hold onto. “Not when it’s the only thing I want.” 

The only thing I need. It’s what you want to say but decide not to. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” 

“I know, Abs.” 

───

Present. 

Four years of being divorced, and neither of you knew how to operate without the other. Two souls extending to each other, in complete tangent with the other. Secretly thriving off the joined consciousness, Abby holds onto every piece of you she can. 

Even if the shards she shattered pierce through her hand, bleeding her dry of every ounce of blood, if it’s for you — the ends justify the ache. Not once has she wavered. Your warning was enough. Keeping her head under, Abby did what she thought was best. 

Surgery. Saving hearts. It’s the one thing she hadn’t failed at. Maybe she couldn’t save the two of you, but she could save the heart in her hands. The passion she felt when she sutured a heart, or teaching interns a new technique that would soon be named after her — there couldn’t be anything else like it. 

Not even you, the love she’ll never forget, could replicate the adrenaline coursing through her veins when Abby was in the operating room. For four years, without the worries of failing you again, she reached unseen heights. Paving the way for all cardio vascular surgeons. Not just for the women but for everyone who had passions just like hers. 

Even with all the accomplishments, the awards, the undeniable concrete ego built in the process, when she’s around you — every bit of her seems to fade — and you’re an angel with a freighting bright halo guiding her home. 

Abby’s been told that nothing would compare to playing god in an operating room, being able to do the impossible. The most inoperable of hearts would be placed in her trained hands, she would make water into wine, an otherwise dead organ would be brought to life because of her. 

All she could do was be the very best surgeon, save as many people as she can, and pretend her heart wasn’t on the other side of the country waiting for you to crave a taste of her again. 

Cruel-hearted with a god-complex, the modern medicine Messiah begs for you to love her again as you once did. Abby’s selfish enough to be bent on receiving what she had once. A steadfast love she had taken for granted once. There wouldn’t be a second. 

Love remains lingering in your eyes, it tries to flee when you get lost in her stormy-blue eyes, but you’ve always had a thing for chasing mayhem. Even if it’s the last thing you want to see, she can’t run away this time. 

“Why would you tell me this?” Scorning Abby as you down another drink the bartender leaves in front of you. “You know I’m in a relationship, you know this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to being happy again, why can’t you just leave me alone?” 

Another lie. But there’s too many to count. It’s the only stretched truth to separate her from you. 

“I-I wasn't, um, I was trying to—” There’s no sense, not when she sees the betrayal simmering in your eyes, begging for a logical explanation. She’s just not sure if she can find one. All she knows is you deserved better but this is all Abby can give. 

“Excuse me, Anderson.” She hears your platform heels ticking against the tile, nearly as angry as you must feel. For a second, she thinks about letting you be. Allowing you the space to forget this ever happened. This is what she does. Abby lets you go until you calm down, your love boiling down to complacency each time she drags you through the mud. 

For the first time, Abby wants to fight. She wants you to scream in her face, yell at her with devotion full of greed — begging for an ounce of deranged sentiment — but trying to build a relationship out of silence? She’ll end up failing again. So, when you’re almost too far, she chases after you. 

The elevator is just about to shut when Abby squeezes her fingers through the elevator, pushing her frame through as you look at her, tears threatening to make home, where they forever belong. A vow of heartache sworn as each tear tattoos your skin. 

“What are you doing?” You’re pissed. Beyond fucking pissed with your pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows pinching your eyes into a squint. Perfectly soft jaw clenches as you dig your heels into the carpet. The fibers are ripped with every subtle drag. 

“I’m fighting because I know as much as you want to be happy with her, you can’t. It’s why she’s not here with you tonight. It’s why no has stuck after me. It’s why I can’t date anyone that’s not you. And it’s why this has never really ended.” The scent you love so desperately overwhelms you as she steps close, leaving hardly any room for you to breathe. 

“You signed those divorce papers, you ended all of this.” 

“I made a mistake? Okay? I fucked up. I thought your life would be so much easier without me constantly putting you second in my life. I gave up on us and the most decent gift I thought I could give was giving you a better chance with someone else.” Abby relents, a half-apology being uttered and you're trying to process all of it. 

She deserves to be pushed away. You want nothing to do with her, but she starts kissing along your neck, the sweet spot behind your ear, dragging her tongue over sensitive skin before she leaves a mark you’ll have to explain. Abby’s always been fond of possession, and she can’t help herself when it comes to you, she knows just what to do. 

“I’m sorry.” Each time her lips drift to another spot along your neck, another apology is spilled. Every inch of your neck might as well be inked, her tenacious voracity met with the gloss of her tongue, edging you further into the grave she continues to dig. 

“This doesn’t make everything you did okay, Abby. You hurt me, left me rotting on a fucking shelf and now that you’re ready I’m supposed to drop my life for you? Give you everything I would’ve died waiting for?” Your words escape with brittle need, a crack threatening the dam to flood. 

“Give me nothing, give me everything, walk out this elevator and never speak to me again.” Abby presses forward, her freckled cheek pressed to yours, her sinful-sultry voice sweltering your body like summer in the middle of July. “Whatever you want, It’s yours. I’m only sorry it couldn’t be given to you sooner.” 

The elevator announces its arrival as you straighten out your dress and as you begin walking away Abby accepts her fate. For what feels like a lifetime, heaven engulfs her tenuous hands and without saying a word you maneuver her into your path. Pulling her by the end of her tie. 

Partnering with the silence as you open the door to your room, the door shutting behind Abby with a soft shutter. Abby stays glued to the door as you grab a glass of wine, filling it halfway before you sit on the edge of the bed, watching her squirm. 

“Is there another girl? Someone else I need to be worried about?” Abby shoves her hands deep in her pockets, her heel lightly tapping against the door. With a shake of her head, she dismisses the idea entirely. 

“C’mon, what’s her name? An intern, a colleague, a boss?” You keep pushing but she won’t budge. “You expect me to believe there has been no one?” 

With her cheeks flaring pink, the tips of her ears painted violet, you think it’s time to swallow your words. “You mean there’s only been—” 

“You.” Abby looks embarrassed, as if her skin is about to consume her alive. Rubbing the wedding band she has tattooed on her skin, in all four years she hadn’t bothered to cover it. Before setting the glass down, taking one final swing, mustering up the courage to give into her pouty-blue eyes. “Since college, I haven’t, uh, not with anyone else—” 

“You have women flirt with you all the time. You’re everyone’s fucking dream. There’s no goddamn way you haven’t had sex in a year.” 

“I only have one dream—” Abby steps forward, closing some of the distance between you. “I replay it over and over in my head when I’m alone.” 

“What does the Dr. Anderson dream about, huh? Enlighten me.” 

“The green house on Maple street.” Abby’s words cut deeper than you anticipate, your next breath trapped in your throat. “It’s not something cruel I’m using to taunt you with. It’s real. It’s yours but it could be ours. I’m four years too late, but I want to give you what I promised.” 

“What do you mean by mine?” 

Abby clears her throat, getting choked up as she paces in your room, her broad frame tensing as she tries to find a way to confess. A cloud of wonder swarms in her grey-blue eyes. 

“The deed for the house is in your name.” Immediately, you let the words sink in. Trying to rationalize it, trying to twist this into something else. There’s no way you’re hearing her correctly. She wouldn’t, right? 

“You bought our dream home for me?” Sheeply, Abby nods. The apple of her cheeks resemble a rose, sheepishly embarrassed. 

“My success, the life that I have, all of it is because you pushed me through med school. You wouldn’t give up on me even when I had given up on myself. I always wanted to do this for you. I always wanted to take care of you but I lost sight of what was important to me. I forgot why I even wanted to do this in the first place.” 

“Your dad.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You loved Jerry, he welcomed you in the family with open arms. But when he got sick, it changed Abby. Her work became her life when he didn’t get better. And soon, it’s all she became. 

“He would hate how much I fucked up everything with you. I just felt like it was the one thing I needed to still have him here with me. Like if I didn’t prioritize this—” 

“Then there would be nothing left.” You took the words right out of her mouth. 

“Look, I’m sorry I kissed you. Really, I shouldn’t have. You have a girlfriend. Someone who loves you and I won’t get in the middle of it. I’ve hurt you for so long. It makes me physically ill and I won’t do it anymore. I can’t. All I want is for you to be happy. That’s why I bought the house for you. It was always something I wanted to do for you. Regardless if we’re together or not.” 

Her pacing hadn’t stopped, she still kept moving but then nodded as she finished. This was her peace. She could move on. The both of you could move on. The ink had dried up long ago. You should move on. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Okay, I’m gonna go now.” Somehow, she transformed into the college student who knocked on your door. Confident but god, she was so unsure of herself and it still makes your heart beat a million times a minute. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” You turn away from her, “Not anymore.” 

You still expect her to leave, or make you look at her with tears in your eyes. You could cry a river for her and it still wouldn’t seem enough. You can’t face her. Not when one look will have you give in. The words left unsaid stain two hearts. 

I don’t have a girlfriend because I still love you. 

Like the anchor she’s always been, she wraps your frame in hers, holding you from behind. A faith of love. A testimony broken and healed by time and soothed with distance. 

There was so much you had to discuss, feelings you had to iron out fresh. Like the slightly wrinkled shirt she’d worn on the day you met. But on this day, you decided to have hope. That one day, you could climb the wall Abby built and restore your love in the vow you once sang in tune. 

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” But Abby sniffs out the smile. 

“I know, sunshine.” 

um. so yeah. that happened. i was trying to do a somewhat realistic ending without shredding some hearts......and i just love abby a little too much ♡

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Audubon:

“I can’t tell you how many people come that are like, ‘I grew up seeing fireflies, and I don’t see as many now,’ ” says Matt Johnson, the center’s director.

Candace Fallon, a conservation biologist at the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation, had long heard similar concerns. But when she checked the literature in 2018, she found little to no information on firefly trends. In fact, there was no comprehensive population data for any of the 179 known firefly species in the United States.

Fallon and a team at the International Union for Conservation of Nature set out to determine how American fireflies are faring. In 2021 they published their findings, the first list of conservation statuses for U.S. fireflies. Of the 132 species they reviewed, more than half lacked enough data to conclude anything for certain. But among the species whose status was clear, the scientists found 20 to be threatened or near threatened.

Fireflies, which are actually bioluminescent beetles, face many of the same threats as birds. Habitat loss—especially of wetlands, given the insects' preference for moist areas—is a major issue. (Indeed, the most threatened fireflies are the species that depend on only one type of landscape, such as the critically endangered Bethany Beach firefly, which primarily occupies freshwater wetlands between sand dunes along a 20-mile stretch of the Delaware coast.) Rising seas and extreme weather events drown coastal birds' nests as well as firefly habitat, while pesticides kill insect prey that both fireflies and birds rely on—and likely fireflies themselves. Light pollution, which can disorient nocturnal migratory birds and contribute to fatal building collisions, also disrupts lightning bugs’ ability to communicate: Flashing in a brightly lit environment is like trying to yell across a crowd.

To help fill critical knowledge gaps, researchers are turning to community science. The Fireflyers International Network collects data on iNaturalist from all over the world, and in 2022 Fallon and the Xerces Society launched the Firefly Atlas, where U.S. participants can share incidental observations and even conduct field surveys. These crowdsourced records can illuminate how species are trending in the face of threats.

In some parts of the country, community scientists are logging the first records of fireflies. In the West, the flashing beetles are such a rare sight that some people believe they are imaginary. “It’s like: unicorns, dragons, fireflies,” says Christy Bills, an entomologist at the Natural History Museum of Utah. Western fireflies have always been harder to find: They appear late at night, in small numbers, and in marshy areas where people don’t often hang out. So Bills and her partners at Brigham Young University started the Western Firefly Project to focus attention on them. Today its participants have spotted fireflies in 27 of 29 counties in Utah, where previously there had been only a few documented sightings—and in Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana, so exciting to Bills that she likens the discoveries to finding gold.

[deikshen]

Hear me out: a sort of spiritual communication array that works like a group chat of some Binghe's wives where they gossip and live together more carefree behind their husband's back... where the transmigrated and current rogue cultivator Shen Yuan is accidentally added.

Shen Yuan probably ignores all the messages at first as, well, fuck. A group of gossipy women. He's been in worse group chats, and the company is entertaining when he's been through more two weeks without a trace of another human being hunting a beast. However, you could send some useful answers, some knowledge about plants or medicines that they appreciate!! And they call him "Meimei", so Shen Yuan assumes that they have surely made a mistake with his communication array password... Which is weird, he suppose, because who uses "blessed heavenly pillar" as their password? Anyway. Shen Yuan appreciates the gossipy friends he's making.

Apparently they all live in the same place, are they like, a community? Given certain comments and insinuations between them, perhaps a community of lesbians living under someone's protection? Cool! He was sure that the heavenly pillar definitely wasn't something that could treat lesbianism like a sick and "cure" it (even if he knows that the bastard Airplane would have considered it, nor would he have been capable of that disrespect), so good for them! He liked them too much to end up like part of that harem!! Although being Binghe's wife is a privilege, of course, but one in three hundred...

Shen Yuan doesn't talk much in the group, but he has his favorite "Jiejies"! They're all sweet and nice to him, and even the most unfriendly ones become fond of it after a good recipe for scented soaps or moisturizing creams. Sometimes they even ask him privately with any questions. Shen Yuan feels bad when he has to decline invitations to eat or go listen to music, because he's not even there!! In fact, at this point he's already embarrassed to admit that he was added by mistake and he remained silent about it!!

And, in the midst of one of his travels, Shen Yuan encounters the core of the world. Binghe! Emperor Luo Binghe! They share a small adventure hunting the beast — Luo Binghe looks quite haughty and arrogant, yet vulnerable when he's cooking, illuminated by the fire and with that tiny disheveled braid in his hair. Shen Yuan enjoys his meal and read in the chat, commenting that he remembered some flowers that can be used to dye fabrics, sending the specifications and receiving tens of happy comments about it.

Ah, actually, he doesn't have a bad life. He thinks so. He keeps randomly running into Luo Binghe on his travels, and his friends in the group chat are as gossipy and fun as ever.

And then, one day, Shen Yuan wakes up with an exaggerated amount of messages:

» "I think we'll have to add another one soon"

» "Another one? Damn. How many of us are there?"

» "Three hundred and twelve?"

» "Not everyone is here, in this group there are less than a hundred. The main wives have their own group, too."

» "I thought lady Mingyan was at the beginning?"

» "She was, but she got bored. Mingyan never wants to be in our groups since we criticized thata bad novel about the ice king and his spy"

» "Hualing neither, but she caused the first group to collapse with her rudeness"

» "But why add another one? You're getting off topic, ladies. Husband's been away again?"

» "Phew, honey. If only you knew. He goes off and comes back like a puppy. I've never seen that look on his face"

» "He looks young and adorable. Hualing was complaining about that the other day"

» "I mean, husband always looks handsome, but he has this glow. The glow when he's falling in love, again. I haven't seen him like that in a long time"

» "Me neither! I thought I'd never see him shine like that again after the third week of our wedding"

» "Same sis. Since the second one. It's nice to see him shine happily even if he's not looking at me"

» "Do we know who she is? From which realm? A demon? A cultivator? Details, details!!"

» "We need more demons, badass girls"

» "Husband says he's going hunting. He comes back with beasts and flowers. But also with that smile. So I'm guessing a cultivator"

» "Hell, more? They'll beat us by a landslide"

» "Girl, don't complain. More to bite on"

» "When you stop being being super close and eating together, we can talk about how we can't let husband ruin it with this?"

» "Why would a husband ruin it?"

» "He is our husband"

» "You're absolutely right. Fuck he's going to ruin it"

» "What should we do?"

» "First, find out about her! Warn her! Tell her that our husband is a fool but has a good heart deep down!! Who has permission to leave the palace? Has anyone spoken to Yingying lately?!"

» "We have to warn her about the size of his dick"

» "That too. I would have appreciated being prepared"

» "I married him after reading the yellow books about him, AND I WASN'T PREPARED"

» "No one is. My poor flower"

» "Too much information"

» "I'm not sorry"

» "Girls GIRLS GIRLS. For heaven's sake. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I JUST FOUND OUT."

» "If it doesn't have to do with our husband's new conquest, it's irrelevant gossip."

» "It has to do with"

» "SPIT IT OUT"

» "His new conquest is not a woman"

» "what"

» "WHAT?"

» "?????"

» "Listen, but it makes sense, right? Husband could be a cut sleeve that didn't notice until now. So that's why there are so many of us. None of us can be enough because we're missing something, you know, important."

» "A dick"

» "I was going to say a pillar, but you get the point."

» "Where did you hear that from?"

» "Our husband was telling General Mobei. That he should prepare a trunk of fine men's robes, that he would soon bring his new traveling companion to see the palace. That he plans to move him into his private chambers."

» "NO FUCKING WAYYY"

» "Hualing will explode"

» "I haven't seen a good attempt in years, do you want to bet?"

» "Do we know anything else?"

» "I don't know his name, sorry, that's all I have. He is a small rogue cultivator"

» "How small?"

» "By the measurements that husband requested for his robes, 5'6"

» "Damn it"

» "Short"

» "Oh damn, his poor chrysanthemum"

» "OH FUCK"

» "NO WAY"

» "HOW THE HELL DOES OUR HUSBAND'S COCK FIT IN SOMETHING SO SMALL? FUCK"

» "I will put incense in the name of his hole"

» "Oh girl, me too"

Shen Yuan stops reading with a mixture of horror, shame, and panic. What. The. Fuck. HOW THE FUCK DID HE END UP IN THAT GROUP? In the DAMNED BINGHE WIFE GROUP. Fuck. Oh fuck.

And yes, HE HAD agreed to visit Luo Binghe's palace, BUT only because he had mentioned that it had been a long time since he had slept in a bed and had a nice hot bath!! And Luo Binghe had been an exceptional gentleman and good friend offering to visit the palace and receive some care! Nothing perverted like those wives talked about!!

Oh, those wives. Damn. How come he'd been infiltrating that chat for MONTHS without realizing it!? Yes, it was true that when there were MANY messages he would ignore them and just skip them... But he would have stopped immediately if someone had mentioned Binghe directly!! But FUCK. They only mentioned him as "husband" and Shen Yuan's radar on anything where Binghe was mentioned didn't go off. Fuck.

Well, that's fine. He's not... a conquest. Nothing like that. Shen Yuan is sure of that! The protagonist is 100% heterosexual, no matter what those wives say!!! They're his wives damn, they should know how straight he is!!

He'll go to that palace, prove that he's just a good friend of Binghe, and that's it!

(In the future, when he is already married with Luo Binghe and one of Binghe's many wives asks for his communication array password to add him to a group chat to, he know, chat and share, Shen Yuan runs away with a red face. That same night, everyone is saddened because the kind and sweet Meimei who knew a lot about beast, flowers and remedies left the group.)

[emotionoitme]

don’t call my name

don't call my name - skinshape

warnings: roommate trope, pervy carmy, like this man needs to get a grip, sexual tension & sexual innuendo, yearning as always, nudity and some steaminess, alcohol (its one drink), some dirty touches and lots of teasing + dirty talking lol, future smut (freaky), no use of y/n or you

wc: 8.6k

a/n: new 3-PART SERIES!! hiiii i’m sorry i’ve been awol for so long but s3 has sent me into a feral frenzy and thats what motivates me to write for carmy <3 he kind of pissed me off this season but i’m horny for him anyways so enjoy!!  (from the same horny silly mind as “about a girl”)

series masterlist

playlist (updates with each chapter)

fucking inflation.

carmen berzatto would rather die than try and find a roommate.

with chicago’s residential rent quadrupling, he found it increasingly stressful balancing monthly apartment payments with the nonstop financial demand of owning a restaurant. 

if it wasn’t fixing the walk in fridge, it was fixing the gas line that had a leak. not to mention staffing, fancy dishware, food cost, utilities. the bear was a big up and coming success in the community, but he was damned if it didn’t take a lot of money to keep a restaurant running. 

it wouldn’t have been so stressful all on its own, either, not if his new fuckhead landlord didn’t send all the tenants a yellow slip informing them of the $2500 monthly increase in rent. 

the place was nice—he recently made a decision that was long deliberated, moveing from his small, admittedly humble apartment complex to a “luxury unit”. 

he found it to be quite an adjustment. It was newer, and much nicer than what carmy was used to. the place was fully furnished and had two-levels connected by floating stairs, as well as tall windows that reached the ceiling and illuminated the space with natural light. 

it was a gorgeous place, but the sudden increase in rent did nothing more than fuel the disdain that he had accumulated for landlords over the years. 

so, came to terms with the fact that he would have to either deal with the hassle of moving out, cut into the restaurant’s budgeting, or the dreaded third option. finding a roommate. 

the stress plagued his mind all night as he tried to sleep, tossing and turning over his pillow. 

someone to share a small space with, quarrel over messes with, debate over rent share with. not to mention he had grown accustomed to small freedoms like cooking in the middle of the night or walking around naked. 

there was also the fact that he had been lonely recently, succumbing to sexual frustrations that reminded him all too well of being a teenager again. it had crept up on him slowly, the urge to hold another person again. to be touched by someone else. 

he had been so worked up, he was being plagued by wet dreams. it was like being back in middle school for the man. finding himself waking up face down in the bed, clutching a pillow he had drooled on with a throbbing erection in his boxers. finding himself rutting his hips against the mattress to try and alleviate some of the pressure that had built up in his body. a thin sheen of sweat covered him as he felt increasingly hot. maybe he would want to bring someone home in the near future, and how would that work with a roommate? what a fucking nightmare. 

he bit into the pillow and let out a soft groan as he continued to slowly rock his hips against the mattress. 

he slid his hand down, fingers tucking into his boxers and wrapping around his erection. the dream had felt so real while he was asleep, recalling soft skin beneath his fingertips, recalling himself posessively gripping this skin as a hot, wet tightness engulfed his cock. he nuzzles his face further into the pillow as he pumps his hand softly over his length.

the lack of anything romantic or sexual in his life was probably for the best. but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss it. 

carmen brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting into his palm and shoving his boxers down to slick himself up. it felt as if a white heat was beginning to surge through his body, unaccustomed to the touch. 

he had been so busy, wound so tightly. he began rutting his hips to meet his hand, releasing a low moan into the pillow. it was like the dream had gotten him almost completely to the finish line, feeling overwhelmingly sensitive from the brief touches. his other hand gripped at his comforter as he felt himself coming up on an orgasm, muscles tensing, mouth falling open.

the sharp blare of his phone ringing right next to his ear caused him to jump, ripping his hand out from his boxers and sitting up. it took him a second to orient himself, heart pounding and breaths labored.

he felt his skin heat with anger as his eyes darted over to the screen to see an unknown number. 

another four seconds and he would have been blissfully falling over the edge he hadn’t fallen over in a long time. 

he hurriedly shoved the phone up to his ear. 

“what?” he snapped into the line, patience wearing incredibly thin. the receiving end was quiet for a beat, before a woman’s voice hesitantly responded. 

“hi…um, i was calling about the listing for the unit on maple… is this the right number?” 

carmy ran a hand over his face, resting his forehead in his hand. the pent up tension began to partially subside, mind now focusing on his sustained issue of finding a roommate. 

“no, yeah. uh, sorry,” he cleared his throat, “this is carmen.”

“oh. hi,” the girl’s voice responded, sounding slightly surprised. she relayed her own name, as he found himself closing his eyes and tuning into the sound of her voice. 

“i saw your ad in the tribune, and i’m kind of in a rough spot right now with my shithea- sorry, my landlord increasing the rent. i only need a place for a few months before i go back to the west coast.” 

he let himself chuckle at her correction, hand falling to the blanket above his erection. 

“yeah,” he responded, “i’m, uh, all too familiar with shithead landlords. that’s why i put the ad out in the first place. my rent is fuckin’ going up 2500 bucks.” hearing a small gasp resonate through the line at this.

“so i take it you’re not…totally enthusiastic about getting a roommate?” she questioned with a laugh.

something inside his stomach fluttered at the sound of her laugh. enough to feel a twitch from under the blanket. 

god damn, was he wound tightly. 

“no- i’m… well, yes, but-“ he exhales, “i guess it just has to be a good fit. i’m used to living alone.” 

the girl lets out a hum of agreement. 

“well, when can i meet you, carmen? test out how well you…fit?” 

he had to stifle a groan at this, a dull, aching throb coming from beneath his covers. he palmed his hand over the clothed hardness. he didn’t even know what this girl looked like and somehow she was eliciting a response from him. he made a mental note to try and get laid over the next week. even if it was just a shitty one night stand. anything to alleviate this ferocity he felt. 

“yeah, um,” he responds, slightly horse “i’m actually taking the day off tomorrow, so, then?” 

the girl giggled again. 

“wow, lucky you, taking off work on a sunday?” she teased. he takes his hand off his clothed erection and runs his hand through his unruly curls.

“yeah, i, uh, work in a restaurant. so it really is lucky…” dread filled his stomach at the thought of playing catch-up come monday. hopefully the staff would work smoothly enough to accommodate his absence. 

“i’m really the lucky one,” she responds, “the sooner i can end my lease, the better. and you’re the first actual response i’ve gotten all week.” a pause. “can i come by tomorrow morning and check the place out?” 

carmy’s eyes flickered towards his open bedroom door, acknowledging the cleaning he would have to squeeze in today. 

“yeah, the, uh…. the morning works” he responded. 

“i won’t be interrupting anything, right?” she asked. 

his eyes glanced down to the hardened outline under his sheets. 

“no,” he rested his head back against the wall, “no, i’m open. come at 9? unit 407.” 

“okay, yeah. i’ll be there. bye, carmen” she sweetly chimed. 

he let out a breath as the phone disconnected. this woman could’ve been anyone, yet something about the way she said his name sent a wave of heat through his body. he glanced back down at his hardness, then at the clock. 

“fuck” he exhaled, denoting the limited time he had before he had to be at the resturaunt. he ran a hand over his face before throwing the covers off of him and forcing himself out of bed. he readjusted the tent of his boxers and walked downstairs and into the kitchen. fuck this rent increase. he loved living alone. 

carmen downed a glass of water, allowing some of the cool liquid to spill onto his bare chest. he told himself he dreaded the next morning when he would meet the woman who called him, regardless of how his body responded to the sound of her voice. 

he definitely wasn’t lonely, curious, or excited to see what she would be like. 

fuck having a roommate.

he bent down to strip himself of his boxers, leaving them on the floor as he walked into the bathroom to start the shower. he drew back the curtain and let the water hit him without warming up. 

what about being able to come home at any hour of the night? or stashing his jeans in the oven? no longer would he be comfortable succumbing to freedoms as simple as jerking off on the couch. 

so because of that, carmen would rather die than try and find a roommate. 

or, at least that’s what he had thought initially. 

by no means did he expect his old fashioned newspaper ad to bring her. 

his first thought was that she was beautiful, and he found himself drinking in the sight of her as if he were a man lost in a desert and she was a cool blue pond. 

she was younger, he guessed early twenties, and cute. carmen had never considered himself the type of guy who had a type, but that split second after which he had opened the door made him rethink that prior assumption.

it also didn’t help that she had shown up in a tiny skirt and a long sleeved shirt that was so fucking tight he could see the perk of her nipples through the fabric. and what could he say to defend himself? at the end of the day he was just a man. 

the first genuine thing he noticed, however, was her smile, alongside a mischievous glint in her eyes, which he was immediately enamored with. it was like opening the door and being completely blindsided, resulting in an awkward first few seconds as they stood staring at each other. the girl expectantly waited for him to invite her inside. he hadn't even realized that she had already greeted him and he was just starting back at her dumbfoundedly. 

“uh. sorry,” he broke the silence, “hi. it’s nice to meet you” he stuck out his hand. 

she gave him a warm smile and reached out to shake his hand. 

“so nice to meet you, carmen.” 

her hand was soft. and he liked the way it seemed to disappear in his. she pulled it back sooner than he would’ve liked. he reciprocated her small smile. 

“carmy is fine,” he stepped to the side “come on in.”

he watched as her eyes scanned down his face, to his lips, neck, chest, before glancing back up. 

he could’ve sworn her cheeks colored a bit as she stepped inside and began to have a look around. 

the girl slowly made her way through the living room, running her hand along the soft backing of the couch, glancing over the various cook books stacked upon the coffee table. carmy watched her from behind as she sauntered into the kitchen, averting his eyes after tracing up the span of her bare leg, disappointed when his gaze met fabric. 

stop being such a fuckin’ perv, he internally scolded himself. he took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his front pockets, continuing to walk forward, eyes burning a hole into the cabinets of the kitchen. anywhere but on her. 

the girl placed her hands on the granite countertops, leaning over to examine even more cookbooks, these ones with sticky notes decorating the pages. the sweet, light smell of perfume prompted carmen to look forward, realizing he had gotten closer to the girl than he meant to. she sensed his presence and turned around, letting out a small gasp at the close proximity. her eyes darted up and locked with his. 

carmen felt the eye contact send a shockwave through his body as he unintentionally towered over her. 

her eyes fell to his lips momentarily and he felt his jaw clench as he watched her part her mouth and let out a soft breath. the girl ripped her eyes away from his lips, begrudgingly bringing them back up to meet his. 

“can you take me to the bedroom?” she asked him. carmy blinked, heart pounding in his chest, not sure if he heard her right. 

“wh- what?” he choked out. her eyebrows slightly creased, head tilting. 

“the room where i’d stay? can i see it?” 

his eyes shut tightly, then snapped back open. hand coming up to run through his hair. 

jesus, get a grip, man. obviously she wasn’t asking you to take her to the bedroom so you could fu-

“yeah-”’ he sighed, “yeah, of course.” carmy spun on his heel, leading her back through the living room and up the stairs. 

“it’s a beautiful place,” she complimented, “a lot nicer than where i’m at right now.” 

the top floor looked over the living room, branching off into a hallway with two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. 

“yeah, uh, to be honest, it’s a lot… fancier than what i’m usually used to.” carmy led her past his room into the vacant space, empty except for a king sized mattress. 

“the, uh, mattress is yours if you want it. if you already have one, i’ll get it out of here.” he turned to glance at the girl, who had wide eyes, “won it in a stupid…sweepstakes thing my cousin signed me up for.” 

he doesn’t mention that richie had signed him up to make fun of him, telling carmen that a new mattress might help him get laid since nothing else seemed to work.

her gaze met his and a big smile grew on her face. she walked to the edge of the bed, then turned to lay on it, sprawling her arms out. 

“wow,” she exhaled, “you live the life of luxury over here carmy,” a big smile still on her face as she stretches out. he ignores the way her skirt creates a perfect triangular gap between her thighs, revealing a glimpse of white lacy fabric.

okay, maybe he doesn’t ignore it. 

“so?” she asks. he rips his gaze upwards, finding her sitting up on the bed, eyes meeting his, “is it a good fit?” she had a small smirk on her face, crossing one leg over the other, slightly leaning back. 

he liked the way she gazed up at him, chin tilting up towards him to expose more of her neck. his eyes raked down the flesh of her neck, wondering what it would be like to sink his teeth into it. to make her yelp. to mark her. 

“yeah,” he softly responds, feeling his mouth dry, eyes scanning over her face, “i, uh, i think we can make it fit.”

carmy watches as her eyelids flutter slightly at this, chest expanding with a deep inhale. he could’ve sworn she pressed her thighs together, lip coming to catch between her teeth. 

“okay,” she breathed, the two of them almost in a trance as they stared at each other. he was the first to break the eye contact, clearing his throat and taking a few steps away from the bed. 

“you’re, um… free to move in whenever you’d like,” he tells her, fixing his eyes on the wall as he warms under the unmistakable feeling of her gaze. 

she’s here to find a place to live, he tells himself, not get eyefucked by some stranger. 

regardless, he feels her continue to watch him. he hears her boots click against the flooring as she stands from her position on the bed, walking over to the glass door leading to a shared balcony. outside, the door that connected to his room was just a few feet down from hers. 

he follows her as she walks out, watching her place her hands on the railing and take a deep breath. it was fresh out, the nostalgic smell of a crisp autumn morning. 

“it’s a beautiful area,” she quietly observes, noting the proximity of a park. the dense line of trees provided a bit of privacy for the balcony, but the bustle of passerbys were still visible down below. he hummed in agreement, watching as the balmy breeze tousled her hair. she had a serene look on her face, but she seemed far away. 

“you’re, uh, from the west coast?” he asked, trying to strike up a form of conversation. the glaze over her eyes remained as she followed the sight of a woman pushing a baby stroller through the park. 

“yeah,” she breathed out, “san diego. moved here for a work but my, uh….my mom isn’t doing so well. so i’m going back before christmas.” 

carmen notices the twitch of her lip, gaze still fixed on the woman pushing the stroller. 

“i’m, uh, i’m sorry to hear that,” he responds softly. her gaze breaks away as the woman disappears into the tree line. she meets his eyes and gives him a small smile

“don’t be. we have a…complicated relationship,” she let out a small laugh, nervously looking to the side. 

“yeah, i, uh… i know how that goes,” he admits, “trust me.” 

her smile warmed at this, eyes coming back to scan his face. 

“i hope it’s okay that i’d be here so short term,” she offers. he nods his head. 

“i really just need someone for the first couple months. until i decide whether i want to end my lease or, uh, cough up the extra money,” he reassures with a small smile. 

“well, in that case, i look forward to rooming with you, carmy,” she gleams, pushing herself away from the railing and turning to face the door. he opens it for her, watching as she walks back into the room and takes in the stark emptiness. 

“can i bring some stuff by today?” she asks sweetly, “decorate a little?” 

he nods, reaching into his pocket and pulling out her copy of the key, handing it to her. 

“you live here now, so go crazy,” smiling at the squeal of excitement she let out. unexpectedly, the girl rushed forward and wrapped her arms around carmen. he was a bit stunned, but reciprocated, letting his arms engulf her, a hand resting on her lower back. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you!” she beamed, leaning into him. 

“don’t mention it. really” a smile graced his face, the smell of her hair sweet. he would’ve kept hugging her for a while if it was up to him. 

she pulled away, touching his forearm as she did so. 

“i promise i won’t go too crazy. i noticed you have the place pretty….minamalist.”

he let out a small laugh at this. 

“yeah, i’m…not much of a decorator,” he confessed, “my apartments have always been pretty boring.” 

“sounds like you need a woman’s touch?” she asked, giving him an innocent smile. his brain stuttered for a minute, eyes flickering down her face to her lips. he really did need a woman’s touch. but that’s obviously not what she meant.

“yeah,” he cleared his throat “yeah, definitely.” 

she let out a small giggle, “okay. i’ll be back in a few hours.”  

-

as the door slammed behind her, the girl released an exacerbated breath, running her hands through a mess of hair. she made her way through the complex, pressing the elevator button. 

her cheeks felt hot—her whole body felt hot, actually. what the fuck did she get herself into? to make a commitment to a roommate was one thing, to make a commitment to one that was so offensively hot was just stupid. 

he had caught her completely off guard, too. she had only heard carmen as a woman’s name, so the phone call came as a bit of a shock, the meeting an even bigger one. 

she knew she would have to stay away from him, roommate are strictly off limits. 

do not make a move, do not make a move, do not make a move!

it would make everything so complicated, and all she really needed was a place to stay for a few months. but these words she repeated like a mantra did nothing to take away from the fact that she wanted him, bad. from the second he opened the door and she stared into his strikingly blue eyes. from when she raked her eyes down his body, taking in the way his pecs strained against his shirt, tattoos decorating his muscular, capable arms. she was so warm when he wrapped himself around her, hands settling on her lower back…she just wished they had gone lower, touched her more. 

he smelled so fucking good, too, when they had hugged. the smell of his deodorant made her a little dizzy, and gave her a dull ache between her legs. 

the ding of the elevator made her jump, disrupting her thoughts as she stepped through the open doors.

why did she flirt with him so much? she prayed he didn’t think she was a desperate weirdo—it had just been so long since she had been satisfied in that way. and as she sat on the bed, and he stood looking down at her hungrily as if he wanted to dominate her, she quickly decided that she would’ve let him. 

the heat of her skin did not relent, so she began gathering her hair atop her head, molding it into a bun and securing it with a hair tie. 

she had a few hours to take a cold shower, get it together, and call the movers to load up her boxes.

it would be fine, she told herself. everything would work out as long as she didn’t make a move. and carmen seemed gentlemanly enough to reciprocate, minus the few glances she saw him sneak of her. 

she promised herself to not act on the urges. and to her credit, she didn’t. for a while, at least. 

it wasn’t until tonight, about four weeks after moving in, that things started to get complicated. 

it was easy, at first, to resist the flirting and the tension—mostly because carmen was never home.

he left before she woke up and only returned back after she had gone to sleep. that was the cost of being a michelin star chef though, which she had found out not from him, but from a curious google search about his restaurant. 

she decided to confront him about this, curious why he was so humble about such a title. he responded along the lines of a nonchalant, “i didn’t think it mattered.” 

he was a tough person to gauge—always seeming so lost within his own head. the girl felt as if she couldn’t get a good read on him, which was an unusual feeling for her. 

there were moments, however, when it seemed as if she would break down a wall, illuminating herself in a stream of light from within him.

one of those moments was tonight, coming home from dinner with coworkers. she usually would just opt to go straight home after working overtime, but her boss insisted on a get-together to celebrate the end of their project. having to socialize with coworkers after hours was entirely draining, and she was more than ready to be home. 

it was cold and dark, after 10 o’ clock—not that she took notice. the streets shone with the rain of a passed storm, reflecting the light of the street lamps in a blurry haze.

the girl took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the muggy post-rain sweetness of the october air. the walk allowed her to clear her mind a bit, taking notice of the perpetual heat that burned within her. 

god, she needed to blow off some steam. her hand came to thread through her hair, mind flashing to carmen. 

it had been so long since she was with a man—almost forgetting how it felt entirely. how it felt to be kissed, to be touched…how it felt to be full. she let out a small breath at this thought. she wondered if he was well endowed, or on the smaller side? if he was shaved or natural? if he had a curvature to him? circumcised or uncir-

“jesus christ,” she exhales, “i need to get a grip,” the reminder out loud seemed to cut her thoughts short, at least for the most part, as she approaches their building.

she makes her way inside and navigates up to their floor, unlocking the door to their unit, eyebrows furrowing as she took notice of the multiple lights on. she supposes that she had forgotten to turn them off, mentally chastising herself before locking the door behind her and setting her bag and keys down. 

it felt good to be home, stripping off her blazer and making her way to the kitchen. 

she opens the cupboard to grab a glass, filling it with ice. then she pulls a cold ginger beer and lime out of the fridge to make herself a drink. the vodka came a little heavy handed, only partially on accident. 

she takes a long sip before making her way over to and up the stairs. she follows the dark hallway to her room, where she puts on some music and cracks the window to let the rainy breeze pour in. 

the girl hums along gently to the music as she stands in front of her mirror and begins to strip her clothes off. she admires her physique as the alcohol begins to quickly initiate a pleasant buzz. 

the girl leaves her bra and underwear on, admiring the delicate lace that adorned the curvature of her body. her eyes fall onto the candles on her dresser, deciding that a hot bubble bath would help melt the day away. so she takes another sip and walks to the bathroom, continuing to hum the song that reverberates through the speaker. she sways her hips to the music as she walks, even adding a little twirl to help lighten her mood. 

as she goes to grab the bathroom’s knob to twist, it begins to turn on its own, the sudden realization making her heart drop to her stomach all too late. 

the door swings open and the girl finds herself face to face with a shirtless carmen, hair wet and skin dewy with water droplets.

she stumbles back slightly and his strong hands grab the sides of her arms. out of instinct she places her free hand on his chest, the drink she holds splashes a few drops out onto her hand. she steadies herself, cheeks flushing. 

“fuck, carm, i- i’m sorry, i didn’t know you were…” she trails off with a deep breath, her eyes darting down his chiseled chest, to his abdomen, to the deep cut v of his pelvis, down to the tuft of dark hair peaking out from beneath the edge of the towel. 

well, that answered one of her questions.

the girl tears her eyes away from the arousing sight, bringing them up to meet his own. she watches as his own eyes drag down her scantily clad form, hearing him deeply exhale before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. 

his blue gaze had a dark glint as he intensely stared down at her, his lips slightly parted, brows furrowed, as if he couldn’t fully rationalize the predicament they were in. 

she could smell the fresh scent of his body wash, the sharp cleanness of his deodorant. it makes her lean closer unintentionally, eyes droop slightly and lips part as she feels her body heat up. 

he was incredibly firm underneath her fingertips, sturdy and strong, and still a bit damp from his shower. she would’ve kept touching him too, but his hands fall from her arms, taking a small step back, snapping his eyes shut tightly and rubbing his forehead with his hand. 

“shit, i-uh, i’m sorry,” he forces out in a strangled voice, eyes glancing towards the ceiling as if to avoid the temptation that stood in front of him. 

“n-no, my fault, really. i-… i didn’t realize you were home yet,” she forces out, feeling the flush of embarrassment from her cheeks, crossing her arms over her chest to provide some modesty. she leans against the door frame.

“i was gonna take a hot bath. rough day,” she elaborates as a bit of an afterthought. he deeply inhales and his eyes trail back down to her before noticing the glass she was holding. 

“yeah?” he asks, “what are y’drinking?” he nudges his head forward, gesturing to the cup.

her eyes dart down to the glass, droplets of condensation cool against her fingers. 

“um… moscow mule,” she confesses softly, small smile creeping onto her lips, “wanna try?” she offers. 

he gives her a grin, reaching out for the drink. she tries to ignore how his fingers brush over her own. 

carmen brings the glass to his lips and takes a decently long sip, eyebrows furrowing as the bitterness graces his tongue, swallowing harshly. 

“shit, that’s strong,” smile on his face as he coughs lightly. she bursts out into giggles, throwing her head back. 

“it was on accident,” she fibs. 

he raises his eyebrow at this, which makes her laugh harder. he feels himself grin at the sight, not sure he’s ever seen her smile so big. it’s pretty, he thinks. really fuckin’ pretty. 

“it’s good, though,” he praises, handing it back. 

“want one?” she questions, leaning forward a bit, glass coming back up to press to her lips. carmy fixates on the sight for a moment, on her supple and sweet looking lips, before lightly clearing his throat. 

“yeah, i’d, uh… i’d love one.”

the girl flashes him another sweet smile, turning on her heel and walking out of the bathroom. 

“i’ll meet you downstairs then,” she chimes. as she leaves, carmen slides his eyes down her form, admiring her toned back and tracing down the alluring indentation of her spine. his gaze very quickly falls to her ass, clad in a cheeky cut of lace, watching as it slightly bounces in tandem with her steps. his breath catches, feeling himself harden beneath his towel, face heating as a throbbing sensation begins to come on.

he begins to follow her, finding himself so distracted by the sight that he almost follows her all the way into her bedroom, only snapping out of it when he sees her start to unclip her bra. 

he abruptly stops and turns to walk to his own room, taking a few deep, slow breaths once he gets. there. his hands come to rest on his hips, gazing down at the tented cloth of the towel before walking to his dresser to grab a large black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants. as he slides into them, he checks in the mirror to make sure the shirt hung over his hips to cover his very apparent arousal. 

he makes his way downstairs, hearing soft music play from the kitchen. a song with guitar. pretty, but sounded kind of sad. 

his roommate stands at the kitchen island, garnishing his finished drink with a few mint leaves. she wears a silky bathrobe, her hair clipped up messily. she smiles up at him as he came to the counter, ice clinking against the cold copper mug as she hands it to him. 

“you didn’t make yours in copper?” he asks after giving a soft thanks.

“i’m not an award winning chef,” she rebuts, “i wanted to make sure it was up to your standards,” a slight smile on her lips as she teases him. 

he grins, giving a small roll of his eyes before bringing the drink up for a sip. his eyes widen. 

“shit. this- this is good,” he compliments sincerely, taking another drink. 

“thank you, chef,” she beams. he gives her a smile and a nod, trying to ignore how much he enjoyed hearing the name come from her. 

“by the way,” she continues, “you act very humble, but i think it's really impressive for you to own a restaurant so young.” 

he sets his cup down on the granite. her compliment makes his ears feel warm. 

“it’s, uh…. thank you. we’re still trying to find our rhythm, y’know? but it’s coming together. slowly,” he underplays. the girl nods, taking another sip of her drink. 

“did you always know you wanted to be a chef?” she inquires, leaning over the countertop onto her forearms. carmen had trouble processing her question, too distracted by the view provided from the low-hanging fabric of her loosely tied robe. 

she notices his eyes wander and her skin heats under his gaze. she pushes her chest out slightly, having little clue why she was entertaining this crush of hers.

“sorry, what?” his reply comes a bit delayed. she gives a soft giggle.

“did you always want to be a chef? or did someone inspire you?” she notices the way his face drops ever so slightly. 

“i, uh… i’ve wanted to be a chef for a long time. and uh, i think my brother probably had a big part in inspiring me,” he pauses, and she nods. 

“that’s sweet,” a smile on her face, “only the truly inspired go on to own a restaurant.”

“yeah, he uh…he actually left his restaurant to me. used to be a sandwich shop. my dad owned it, then…left it to mikey.” his eyes drift to the skin of her neck, landing on a dainty necklace. 

“are you two close?” she asks, heat from her hands causing the ice of her drink to melt and shift, clinking against the glass. 

he pauses again, unsure of how to approach this, his glazed eyes giving him away a bit. she breaks the silence. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to pry-”

“-no, no, it’s…it’s fine,” he interjects, “mikey actually…he died two years ago. he, uh… he killed himself.” his tone softened.  

carmy wasn’t sure why he was opening up so much, revealing far more than he usually did when people asked questions about mikey. when he met her eyes again, she had a sorrowful look on her face. 

“fuck, carm, that’s-… i’m so sorry for your loss,” she tells him with genuinity. 

“it, uh….” he goes to brush it off like he usually does, but he can’t bring himself to do it as he looks into her eyes. he swallows. 

“thank you.” he says sincerely, giving a small nod. his throat begins to burn, and he looks away. 

he had to break the news to plenty of people before this, so he wasn’t sure why this time felt so different. but it did. 

“he’d be really proud of you, you know,” she tells him after a moment, “you’re doing a good fuckin’ job.” 

carmen meets her eyes again when she says this, and just stares at her for a moment. his chest flutters at the praise, and his slow manual breaths do nothing to stop the heavy pounding of his heart. 

“i, uh,” he rasps, swallowing before continuing, “thank you. i appreciate it,” he says, “really.” 

the girl gives him a sweet smile and nods before coming to stand up straight. she sinches the string of her robe around her waist. 

“i think i’m gonna go take my bath now.”

“enjoy,” he tells her, small smile on his face. she moves around the edge of the counter, sweetly running her hand over his arm as she walks away. 

carmen knows this is just a friendly gesture, yet he still feels goosebumps rise on his skin following her touch. he hears her humming softly as she walks up the stairs.

-

there was nothing that a hot bath wouldn’t fix. especially coupled with some extensive self care, it would prove to be a form of therapy to the girl time and time again. she feels entirely satisfied, except for the fact that the final product that would seal the night in has gone missing. 

on the walk to her room, she glances at carmen’s wide open door. his light was off, but she could hear quiet music coming from the room. 

she approached, softly knocking on the door frame.

“hey carm, have you seen a little black container anywhere? it’s my lip mask” she leans against the opening, and takes a minute to admire the way he reclines on the bed, arms behind his head, black shirt laying on the floor.

he turns his head, taking in the image of her glowy skin, gracefully illuminated by the light of the hallway, loosely covered by the same silky, short bathrobe. 

“yeah, i uh, think i saw it in the downstairs bathroom,” he offers. 

she takes a small step into the room, turning her head to the small TV on his dresser. she watches for a minute before gasping. 

“no way,” she lets out a small laugh, “this used to be one of my favorite movies growing up.”

“for real?” he smiles. 

“hell yeah. you have good taste carmy.”

he scans his eyes over her form as she watches the screen. 

“yeah, i guess i do.”

she brings her gaze back to meet his, tilting her head. carmen felt emboldened by the double-shot drink she fixed him, keeping his eyes locked with hers. 

“wanna watch with me?” he invites. 

she smiles, pausing for a moment, bringing her finger to her lips as if she was deliberating. he finds this endearing, and enthusiastically watches as she saunters to his bed and crawls on. 

carmy sits up onto his forearms, head resting back against the headboard, shifting to make room for her to scoot in next to him. and she does, sitting upright with her knees to her chest, closer than he thought she would’ve, side of her thigh resting against his arm. she smells incredible, and carmen feels an overwhelming, almost primal magnetism towards the girl.

his eyes are fixated on the screen, but he doesn’t register the movie at all. all he can focus on is the smell of her and the warmth of her body pressed against his. 

about 30 minutes into their shared viewing, the girl releases a big yawn, shuffling down to rest her head on the stacked pillows, continuing to watch the movie but feeling her eyes grow heavier by the minute. carmen’s bed was comfy, and she could help but fall into a light slumber.

he doesn’t even notice until he softly laughs at one of the scenes, and she stays silent, soundly dozing. in that moment he’s graced with the rare opportunity to lovingly study her face. his eyes trail over her eyebrows, her cheeks, rosy from her bath, some soft freckles scattered about. he studies the slope of her nose and plush of her lips, then folds his arms behind his head and goes back to watching the movie, his own eyes feeling a bit heavy. 

carmen feels the girl shift, assuming she was waking up. instead, she slings an arm over him, face nuzzling into his chest. when he surprisedly turns to face her, he finds her eyes still shut. every bit of focus he had accumulated prior vanished, now only being able to feel the hammering in his chest, the warmth of her body against his—the way her hand splays across his bare skin. 

he just focuses on his breathing. 

not much more time had passed before she snuggles even closer, hoisting a leg up over him. he stays completely still as to not disturb her sleep, even though his arms pinned behind his head were beginning to feel like static.

the man silently marvels at how well she fit against him, slowly shutting his eyes as he feels her nuzzle her face further into him. 

carmy begins to doze off, noise from the movie droning in the background, darkness of the room enveloping the two. 

they stay that way for another hour, peace only broken at the shrill of carmen’s ringtone that pierces through the silence. 

he feels her startle, grabbing on to him a bit tighter. his arm instinctively comes to wrap around her, hand resting on her back as he reaches over to grab his phone on the nightstand. he mentally curses the unknown caller as he declines the call, noting by his phone clock how late it had gotten. 

he hears the girl let out a groan, still draped over him, readjusting her head to lay on his shoulder, breath tickling his neck. 

he kept silent and didn’t move. 

“m’sorry,” she mumbles, realizing their predicament, “you should’ve pushed me off of you,” her voice drowsy. 

“i fell asleep too,” he justifies, “got too comfortable.”

she lets out a hum of agreement.

“yeah,” scooting closer so that her face almost presses into his neck, “you are really comfortable.” 

its difficult for carmen to keep his composure, jaw tightening as she moves closer. he feels her smooth her hand over his bare chest and splay it over his sternum. he had no idea what was happening, but he knows he’s never wanted anything more than for her to keep touching him. 

“your heart is beating so fast,” she softly observes, drowsily shutting her eyes again. 

he clears his throat. 

“the phone scared me,” a fib.

he feels her smile against his neck, and they stay laying like that in silence for another few minutes. carmen slowly regains control over his breathing, repeating to himself do not get turned on, shutting his eyes tightly. 

after a moment, he feels her soft lips creep against his neck, and then she presses a small kiss into the skin. it feels as if a spark shoots down his spine, tingling throughout his body. 

the man quickly rationalizes the situation, thinking she must have done it on accident. then she does it again, this time higher up his neck and closer to his ear. it was a longer kiss, distinct, and then he feels the warmth of her breath again. 

carmen shifts, craning his neck downwards to look at her. she meets his eyes, and he sees the mischievous glint he was so endeared with from when they met. 

his arm is still around the girl, her hand still caressing his chest. she moves it down slowly, fingertips smoothing along his skin to touch his abdomen. she doesn’t say anything, just keeps touching him, feeling the firmness of his body.

her pointer finger traces lower, dragging over the deep cut of his v-line, stopping when she hits the waistband of his sweatpants. he audibly exhales at this. 

she can see the wanting in his eyes from the dim light of the hallway, 

she knows she should stop herself. but between the smell of his skin and the tingling within her core, she felt as if she physically couldn’t stop. she was coming onto the one man she told herself she couldn’t have, yet her body felt so hot. and he was so….

the girl moves closer to him, their faces mere inches apart. 

the pair are completely silent as carmen examines her face, watching as she bites her lip. without trying to stop himself, he reaches up, thumb coming to pull her lip from between her teeth. he runs the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, pushing it to the side a bit, pulling it down a bit, testing how soft and pliant she was beneath him. 

she exhales, and her fingers slide ever so slightly under the waistline of his sweats. she can feel curls of his pubic hair, giving her a hot, pulsing sensation within her core. the small bathrobe seems to suddenly feel constricting.

carmen sharply exhales through his nose as he feels her fingers creep beneath. he slides his hand over her cheek to grip her face tightly as a warning. the girl meets his eyes, noticing how dark they had become. she can’t help her gaze falling down to his plush lips, staring at them for longer than she should before looking back up to him with heavy eyelids. 

if carmen had more sense, he would pull away and turn on the light. maybe ask her to go back to her own room. but he didn’t, so instead he leans in, just far enough so his lips lightly ghosted over hers—just far enough to let her decide. he was trying to control himself. if it were up to him in that moment, he would grab her, tear off the skimpy bathrobe, and take her for himself. 

but he wanted to be more of a gentleman than that. 

she lets out a soft gasp at the proximity, able to feel the heat from his face.

he’s so close, she thinks, smells so good. 

she throws caution to the wind and decides she wants this. 

badly. 

the girl leans in and presses a slow, soft kiss to his lips. this ignites something in her, and even though she told herself to pull away after the first kiss and refrain from letting this go too far, she gets a taste of him and immediately craves more. 

carmen enthusiastically reciprocates the kiss, hand gripping her face tighter and pulling her closer. they stay gentle at first, slow. but then she whimpers into his mouth at the sensation and it spurs him on, finding himself entirely too worked up from just kissing. 

the kisses became a bit firmer, hungrier, messier, and carmy slips his tongue into her mouth. the room feels too hot all of the sudden, ferocity of the kiss growing—their teeth bump. 

he pulls away from the kiss, lips still ghosting hers. 

“we should, uh” he rasps, interrupted by the girls continued eager kisses, “we should stop.” 

she pauses and nods. 

“yeah,” biting at her lip, “yeah, you’re right.” 

carmen contradicts himself and captures her lips again, telling himself that it’s to cherish the feeling before stopping. the girl moans into the kiss, and he deepens it again. 

so much for stopping. 

her hand slips further into his sweatpants, and she wraps her fingers around his erection. he releases a low, throaty groan, and slides his hand down to grasp the side of her neck, thumb across her throat. 

she leans into his touch, beginning to gently stroke the length of him, fingers loosely grasping. 

he was thick from what she could feel, and long enough to make the motion feel cramped within the confines of his sweatpants. 

their kisses increase in ferocity and she grips him tighter. he softly bites her lip, and she lets out a hum. 

“fucking touch me already, carm,” her demand comes breathily, body growing increasingly hot. 

“yeah?” another kiss. she squeezes her fingers around him. 

“mmhm,” she breathes, growing impatient. his hand shifts to wrap around the front of her throat, fingers lightly pressing into her.

“ask nicer,” he demands, voice low. 

she feels a hitch in her breathing, surprised by the tingle his words sent through her. 

never before having to ask twice, she lets out a frustrated groan and takes her hand out of his pants. she pulls the front of her loose robe open, exposing her bare chest. 

“fuck,” he groans, eyes graciously raking down her form, able to make out the curve of her breasts in the low light of the room. 

“touch. me.” she whines, too proud to beg for him. 

his hand falls from her neck, fingertips teasing down her sternum. she lets out a breath of relief too soon—feeling him lightly ghost over her perked nipple and trace down her ribs. 

“carm,” she complains. he ignores her, coming to kiss her neck instead. her scent was intoxicating, and he feels himself physically strain to keep from giving her what she wanted, finding similar pleasure in the knowledge that she was growing increasingly desperate for him. 

his hand continues its trail downwards, pushing her bathrobe the rest of the way open. he slides his fingers down her stomach slowly, cherishing the softness of her skin, sliding to grasp her hip, rubbing his thumb along the curve of her pelvis. the minute he saw her he swore to himself he would take his time with her, and that he did. 

she lets out a huff and grabs his hand, trying to pull him towards where she wants him. he only tightens his grip on her hipbone. 

“hey,” he scolds sternly into her neck, biting her softly, “be fuckin’ good.”

she gasps at his bite, arching her back for more. 

“then give me what i want,” she pleads, hand gripping onto his arm. she feels him gently smile into her skin. 

“yeah?” he keeps kissing her neck, “what do you want, pretty girl?”

she feels a tingling at the name, fingers dragging up his arm, gripping onto the muscle of his bicep. 

“i want you to fuc-” the same shrill ringtone blares into the silence, simultaneously vibrating the nightstand. the two jump, the girl pulling her hand away from carmy as if he were hot. his fingers grip her hard enough to bruise, before pulling away and coming to rub over his forehead, jaw tightly clenched.  

as the girl recovers herself with her bathrobe, he angrily grabs his phone and answers. 

“what?” he barks into the line. she sits up and smooths her fingers through her hair, dangling her legs over the bed. 

maybe it was a sign that they were interrupted, she thinks, suddenly bashful about the entire situation, heat of her skin relentlessly burning. 

“fuck,” he curses into the phone, “how bad is it?” eyes glancing over to the girl sitting on his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“alright. yeah, i’ll be there in 20,” he begrudgingly says before hanging up the phone. she looks at him questioningly. 

“there was, uh, a fuckin’ leak in one of the pipes. part of the kitchen is flooding.”

“yeah,” she nods, effectively hiding her disappointment, “you should definitely go take care of that,” standing up and turning to walk out. 

he calls her name and she stops, turning back expectantly. 

“we’ll, uh,” he meets her eyes, “we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” 

she puts a small smile on her lips and nods, before turning again and walking to her own room. her heart was still relentlessly beating against her ribcage—skin still hot, still wound so tightly. 

it was a stupid idea to entertain, and she’s glad it didn’t happen. 

at least she repeats that to herself over and over again hoping it’ll start to feel true. 

carmen lets out a labored exhale, gaze falling down to the throbbing tent in his pants, feeling more wound up now than he ever had. 

he regrets not touching her as soon as he had the opportunity, instead trying to tease her. he just really enjoyed how she got so flustered, impatient—certain that the girl had never experienced having to beg for anything before. 

he wanted more. he knew he shouldn’t, but he really did. 

she was so soft beneath him, and pretty, and desperate. he didn’t expect her to have such an attitude, though, finding himself completely roused from the bite of her interaction. 

carmen turns on the lamp, flooding the room with light and squinting his eyes. he stands up to get dressed, ready to go attend to the early morning disaster in the kitchen. 

as he passes her by room he swears he can hear her softly moaning. 

-

next part

[kissesz]

𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

warnings : see above. mdni. angst. f!sub!reader. dom!caitlyn. mean!caitlyn, just briefly. cunnilingus. tribbing. vaginal sex. non-sexual intimacy. read: kissing. a lot of it. sapphic debauchery at its finest. arguing. emotional hurt/comfort. mentions of injuries & blood but not too graphic.

notes: (can be read as a standalone, part II of 'all that glitters') a oneshot—which, clearly, it isn’t anymore. i may have made a promise about making up. unfortunately, the dialogue is subpar at best, perhaps because i genuinely dread writing anything involving communication (which is why i attempted—only half-successfully—to compensate with overly long descriptions). on top of that, i’ve rewritten this at least a thousand times, meaning six and a half hours were spent agonizing over every single paragraph. i digress. i love you all, dearly.

Aged whiskey scorched a trail down your throat, amber liquid catching glimmers of the kaleidoscopic hues painting Piltover for Progress Day—sapphire tones of hextech glinting off effervescent fireworks, swirling and bleeding like watercolors through the fractured prism of your mind.

Or perhaps that was the alcohol, settling leaden in your veins as you draped yourself against the balcony railing. 

Revelry echoed distant and muted from the streets below, laughter filtering through as if from ripples underwater. Each scintillating burst a reminder of her, salt in wounds unhealed—nights of bare skin illuminated by those same lights, susurrous promises you'd been foolish enough to believe. Skin and sweat and lies, impermanent.

So naive.

The crystal tumbler in your hand caught light, throwing severed rainbows across your fingers. Watching them dance, you tried (and failed) to focus on anything but the ache that had made its home in your ribcage months ago, a persistent throb that no amount of liquor could numb.

Then, a knock cleaved through the silence like a gunshot.

Your heart seized—a pavlovian response so violent it stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping. Two strikes against solid wood, precise, just like the woman behind them. 

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed to the empty air, fingers tightening around the railing until your knuckles blanched white against the dark metal. After months of absence, after countless nights spent aching and alone, after everything—she had the audacity to return?

The knock came again, more insistent this time, the sound like a second heartbeat, out of sync with your own yet impossible to ignore.

"Open the door." Caitlyn's voice, muffled yet unmistakable in its authority. That voice that had once whispered such honeyed poison against your skin now felt like sandpaper against raw nerves, abrasive and unrelenting. "Please."

Your laugh spilled out bitter, a broken sound for a broken moment. "Or what, Officer? You'll break it down? Add that to your litany of things you've destroyed?"

Silence stretched between you—taut and ready to snap. Then: "I'll wait all night if I have to."

"Go ahead." The drink seared going down, a familiar burn doing nothing to thaw the frost in your veins. "You're good at that, aren't you? Waiting until the perfect moment to walk away?"

More silence followed, heavy and sticky as molasses. For a moment, you thought she'd left, until you heard it—the soft thud of something solid against wood. Her forehead, perhaps, resting against your door as if she couldn't support her own weight anymore, as if the burden of her choices had finally become too much to bear.

"I deserve that," she said quietly, her voice carrying a of vulnerability you'd never heard before. A hairline fracture in her usually impenetrable facade. "I deserve all of it. But please... let me explain."

"Explain what?" The words clawed their way from your throat, each word tasting of copper and acrimony. "How you used me? How you'd come to me in the dead of night, take what you wanted, then vanish like I meant nothing?"

"You were never—" Her voice splintered on ‘never’, the sound slitting something in your chest, a fissure spreading through the walls you'd built to keep her out. "You were everything to me. That was the problem."

The crystal glass shattered in your grip, a startling crack that echoed the something rupturing inside you. Shards scattered across marble tiles like fallen stars, blood and alcohol—you couldn't tell which—dripping from your trembling fingers. The pain felt distant, secondary to the storm of emotions threatening to rend you apart.

Your feet carried you to the door of their own volition, possessed by a desperate momentum that overrode any semblance of self-preservation. The handle felt unfamiliar against your palm as you wrenched it open.

And there she stood.

Caitlyn Kiramman, in your foyer, like a washed out black and white photo of a deceased relative you couldn't bring yourself to look at. Her uniform was spotless as always, every button polished, every crease perfect—but her eyes—her eyes told a different story. They widened at the sight of your bleeding hand, that familiar concern suffusing her features before she could conceal it.

"You're hurt–" She reached for you, her fingers extending with such tender intent that it made your chest constrict, your heart stuttering behind the cage of your ribs.

You recoiled as if scorched, spine colliding with the wall behind you with a dull thud. "Don't." Your voice emerged raw, stripped of all pretense. "Don't you dare pretend to care now."

"Do you hear yourself? How ridiculous you sound?" She advanced, her presence flooding your space like smoke, cloying and suffocating. The scent of her, vanilla and gunpowder, so achingly familiar, made your head reel. Or maybe that was the blood loss. The whiskey. Turning everything soft at the edges except for her, sharp and impossible to ignore. "Not once, for a single second, did I stop caring. I left because I cared too much, because it was destroying me. Every time I chose you over my duty, every time I let my heart overrule my head, we were—"

"Oh, spare me the noble sacrifice bullshit, Caitlyn. Your precious integrity, right? Let me remind you of what you said: 'You know where I am if you need me.' Do you remember that? How you kissed me goodbye like it wasn't the last fucking time?" A dismissive sound tore from your lips, acrid.

"Enlighten me," you continued, voice quavering in a way that made you want to claw the weakness from your throat, "in all those months, all those nights I spent alone, where exactly were you? Because I needed you. Gods, I needed you every single day! And you were nowhere to be found!"

"It wasn't—" she started, but you cut her off, unwilling to hear whatever justification she'd made up for her absence.

"Shut up." Your palm struck her chest, leaving behind a bloody handprint stark against her pristine uniform. The fabric drank it in like it had been starved for it, marring perfection with your pain. Some bitter part of you relished it, wanted her to wear your anguish for once.

Hands caught your wrists then, a grip gentle but resolute, like you were something fragile, something invaluable she was afraid to break.

The calluses on her palms, from her rifle, from years of relentless training rasped against your pulse points. "You think it was easy?" Her voice trembled, her composure fracturing like a teacup on the verge of shattering. "You think I wanted to walk away? To lie awake every night remembering how you taste, how you feel, how you cry out my name when you—"

"Stop." You tried to wrench away but her hold was unbreakable, fingers branding your skin with unspoken apologies, with pleas for absolution. Your heart battered against your ribcage, that traitorous organ that still raced at her proximity, even after everything.

"Why?" She surged forward, and suddenly you were pinned between the heat of her body and the unyielding wall, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

Her breath ghosted across your face, expensive brandy chasing crisp mint—she'd been drinking too. She'd been drinking too, and that realization struck you like a knife to the sternum, twisting viciously. "Because it hurts? Because despite everything, you still remember? How I'd touch you, how I'd make you beg, how you'd unravel for me like you were made for it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your body responded to her, muscle memory overriding reason.

"You did, darling." The endearment dripped from her lips, sweet and searing like honey on a spoon. Her face was a hairsbreadth from yours, close enough to count the individual flecks of navy in her eyes, to feel the heat of her breath mingling with your own. "Countless times. And I remember every single one. Every sound, every sigh, every way you fell apart beneath my hands."

Your breath hitched, catching on a breath suspiciously similar to a sob. "I hate you."

You did, truly.

Hating her felt natural, instinctual.

"No." Her thumb skated over your bottom lip, coming away stained with the smear of your lipstick. The tenderness of the gesture was devastating, a brutal reminder of everything you'd lost. "You wish you did. Just like I wish I could stop loving you."

The confession hung between you like a noose, tightening with each shallow breath.

"Why now?" Your voice cracked, splintering, jagged and razor-edged. "Why come back after all this time?"

"Because I'm tired," she breathed, resting her forehead against yours, the contact like a livewire against your skin. Her skin burned feverish against your own, her breaths labored. "Tired of pretending I don't need you. Tired of walking past your building every night, aching to come up but telling myself I shouldn't. Tired of being half a person without you."

Closing your eyes, the nearness of her was overwhelming, intoxicating; it made you dizzy, memories crashing over you in waves—lips on your throat, hands on your hips, her voice in your ear whispering vows she couldn't keep, oaths she'd shattered like porcelain against stone.

"You broke me." Words falling from your numb lips, more honest than you'd allowed yourself to be since she left, since she carved out your heart and took it with her.

"I know." Her lips brushed your temple, a benediction and a curse. A tear—yours or hers, you couldn't say—slid between your pressed skin, salt and sorrow. "Let me put you back together. Let me try."

"How?" You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze, stripped of all pretense. Your fingers itched to trace the circles beneath her eyes, proof that maybe she'd been haunted by your absence just as viscerally as you'd been ravaged by hers. "How can I ever trust you again?"

In lieu of an answer, she kissed you.

Not like before—not with the practiced restraint of Officer Kiramman, the consummate professional. No, this kiss was desperate, woozy and salty of mingled tears. Her hands cupped your face like you were something hallowed, her thumbs sweeping away the evidence of your shared misery, your shared sin.

Kissing her back, it bordered on violence, every shred of hurt and longing poured into the crush of your mouths. Your fingers knotted in her hair, yanking hard enough to sting, needing her to feel even a fraction of the agony you'd endured in her absence. Silken strands twined around your fingers like they'd been waiting for your touch, like they remembered every time you'd gripped them in ecstasy rather than anguish.

She gasped into your mouth, the sound caught between a moan and a whimper, apology and plea tangled on her tongue. "I'm sorry," she murmured between bruising kisses, each word a fervent promise falling from kiss-swollen lips. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I never stopped. Please..."

You bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough to taste blood of her own, the metallic sting a twisted sort of penance. "Prove it."

Her eyes met yours, understanding dawning like the sun cresting the horizon. With deliberate, measured movements, she began to strip away her armor. Her utility belt hit the floor with a leaden thud, bullets rattling in their clips. Her badge followed, the metal making a mournful sound as it clattered against marble. Then her uniform jacket, each button slipping free of its mooring until the garment slid from her shoulders like a remnant of a past she was shedding, a chrysalis giving way to something raw and new.

Each piece of her fell away until only Caitlyn remained.

The woman behind the title, the beating heart beneath the badge. She stood before you in her crisp white undershirt, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen her, her chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths, her eyes wide and shining in the low light.

"I'm yours," she said softly, her voice replaced by something fragile and aching. "Just me, loving you, for as long as you'll have me."

You stared at her, this woman who could command an entire city with a single look yet now trembled beneath the weight of your gaze. Who could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching yet now looked at you like you held the power to destroy her. Who had walked away from you once yet now stood before you offering her heart, her future, her everything.

"If you leave again..." you started, the words tasting like rust on your tongue, sharp and metallic.

"I won't." She stepped closer, her hands finding the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, relearning curves and planes she'd once mapped in the dark, in stolen moments that now felt like lifetimes ago. Her touch sparked wildfires in its wake, your skin remembering her, craving her, even as your mind screamed for self-preservation. "I can't. Losing you... it nearly killed me. Let me spend the rest of my life making it right. Making us right."

You knew you should’ve resisted, should’ve made her work harder for your forgiveness, for a second chance at the heart she'd so carelessly shattered. But then her lips found that spot just below your ear, the one that made your knees buckle and your breath hitch, and all rational thought fled, replaced by an all-consuming need, a hunger that had gone unsated for far too long.

Her hands relearned your body with admiration that bordered on worshipful—each touch an act of contrition. Her fingers caught on scars she'd never seen before, on new edges and angles wrought in the crucible of her absence, but she didn't shy away. Instead, she traced each one like a devotee tracing the lines of a sacred text, committing them to memory, etching them onto her heart.

"I missed you," she breathed against your throat, her voice cracking on the admission. "Missed this. The way you melt for me, the way your pulse flutters beneath my lips." To illustrate her point, she pressed a lingering kiss to the hammering beat at the base of your throat, smiling against your skin as you failed to bite back a whimper.

Her name fell from your lips like a benediction, like a curse, like an invocation of something bigger than both of you. "Caitlyn..."

She pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, and the naked adoration in her gaze stole the breath from your lungs. 

Gone was the stoic persona, the enforcer of the law. In her place was a woman laid bare, stripped of all pretense. A woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and unspoken promises, whose hands shook with the force of her need, her longing.

"I love you," she said simply, the words rusty from disuse but no less true for it. "I love your fire, your strength, the way you never once made it easy for me. I love the way you see me, all of me, even the parts I try to hide. I love—"

You swallowed the rest of her words with a searing kiss, your hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt, dragging her closer until you could feel her heartbeat against your own, a desperate staccato that echoed the racing of your pulse. 

She caught you as you swayed, strong arms banding around your waist, holding you up, anchoring you to her as she'd always done, even when you insisted you didn't need it, didn't want it. "Let me take care of you," she murmured against your lips, the words akin to a plea. "Let me show you how much I've missed you, how sorry I am, how I—"

"Show me," you demanded, the words scraping your throat raw with their urgency. "Make me believe you."

The sound she made was part growl, part whimper, animal and anguished. Her hands glided down your sides to grip the backs of your thighs, fingers sinking into yielding flesh, and then you were airborne, your back hitting the wall with enough force to rattle the abstract art piece hanging beside your head. Your legs locked around her waist on instinct, muscle memory overriding the part of you still screaming for restraint.

"I'll spend forever making you believe," she vowed, punctuating each word with a press of her lips—to your jaw, the edge of your lips, the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. "Forever proving that you're it for me, that I'm done hiding from this, from us."

As she carried you to the bedroom, her steps never faltering despite the tremors wracking her frame, you realized with startling, terrifying clarity that you wanted to let her. Wanted to give her the chance to piece back together the remnants of you, to rebuild from the rubble and ashes she'd left behind. 

A tangle of limbs and discarded silks draped upon the edge of your bed held nothing new, freshly washed sheets tousling as she haphazardly lowered you into their embrace. 

And then, she was on you, her hand sliding up the apex of your thigh, teasing.

Finally, finally, her tongue met the barrier of your underwear, the fabric the only thing separating you from the heat and wetness that promised heaven. She took her time, tracing every inch of you, biting and nipping, until you were writhing beneath her, begging for more. And then she pulled them down, your hips lifting off the bed to accommodate her, exposing you completely to the cool air and the burning heat of her gaze.

Her mouth followed the path of your underwear, leaving a damp trail of kisses as she descended. She hovered above your clit for a moment, her eyes searching yours for permission, for reassurance. You gave it with a nod, and she took it as the invitation it was, her tongue flicking out to taste you, to show you without words how much she'd missed this, missed you. 

The sensation was foreign in its familiarity, your entire body tensing before relaxing into the bliss she’d coaxed from you, licking and suckling, driving you closer to the edge with every pass.

And then, with a lingering kiss, she pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. Deja vu, perhaps? "Take these off," she ordered, her voice thick with desire, gesturing to her own pants. You obeyed, your fingers fumbling with the zipper, eager to feel her bare skin against yours. When she was finally naked, she straddled you, the wetness between her thighs pressing against your stomach, leaving a damp heat that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Her hands roamed your body, touching, everywhere, and you watched her, breathless, feeling your desire for her swell until it was a living, pulsing thing between you. 

When she reached your breasts, her caresses were feather-light at first, teasing your already-sensitized nipples until they were hard points of pleasure-pain that had you gasping. Then, she took one into her mouth, her tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh, her teeth grazing the tight bud, sending skitters of desire straight to your core.

As she worked you over with her mouth and hands, each touch, each kiss, each lick brought you closer to the precipice. Your hips bucked against her, seeking more, seeking everything she had to give, needing to be filled, to be claimed by her again. You reached down to guide her, impatient (if it were another time, she’d make a show of rolling her eyes), fingers curling around hers, to show her where you needed her most, and she took the hint, sliding down your body, aligning herself with your aching sex.

Her hips rolled against yours, the friction building until you were both heaving and desperate. The world narrowed to just the two of you, the slick slide of skin on skin, the gasps and murmurs of pleasure. You felt her love in every stroke, every touch, every shudder of her body as she took you higher, until you were both teetering on the brink of oblivion.

The feeling of her was exquisite, the pressure just right—coiling tighter and tighter, until you were both ready to shatter. Your nails raked down her back, leaving red streaks on her skin, and she groaned into your neck. The sound sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you like a storm at sea. She followed, her hips stuttering against yours, her own release a hot, wet rush that mingled with yours, until you were both spent, limp and trembling in each other's arms.

Perhaps there would be no gold at the end of this, no sunset-fade and happily ever after. Perhaps you'd end up right back here again someday, bleeding out on memories gone septic with neglect. Perhaps you'd lose as much as you'd gain, in the end.

But what a thing it was—to be shattered and scattered, to cut yourself open on the fractured pieces and trust that the other person would help you staunch the flow of injuries after. To hold your own heart in your hands and decide that theirs was worth the risk anyway, every time.

So you sealed your mouth to hers and poured yourself into the spaces between, the cracks and scars and fault-lines cobwebbing you both. Let her lick the hurt from your teeth, suck apologies purple-dark into your skin until you couldn't tell her contrition from your clemency.

And later, when you laid tangled up in sheets that smelled of sex and forgiveness, her head pillowed on your chest and the ghosts of your names still ringing in the rafters, you thought that maybe this was a new breed of faith.

To believe, against all evidence, that you could piece each other back together. To know that you'd never be what you were before, untarnished and golden all the way through—but that maybe, just maybe, there was something rawer and realer and infinitely more precious to be found in those broken places.

To reach your hand between each other's ribs and hold tight to whatever you found there, battered and bloodied but beating still. Whispering: I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you enough to stay.

I love you enough to bleed.

I love you in ways only the shattered know how to love.

I love you, and all your splintered edges.

I love you, and the way you carve yourself into me.

I love you, and I'll spend every breath I have left proving it.

I love you, and that's the best and worst thing I know how to do.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

©️ kissesz

tags for the lovely sweethearts who requested a continuation: @prettyyyy-girl & @hiroklaiz

[rbfclassy]

STILL IN LOVE! #7 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Toji stood in the empty living room, the light illuminating from the television as it played some random show that you were watching before he came. It’s been so long since the last time he was here, at least that’s what it felt like. Nothing really changed for the most part, still the same decor, the layout still the same. He couldn’t help but notice the set of fresh roses that sat on your dining room table, paired with a detailed glass vase. He already had his guesses on who gave them to you.

Toji looked over his shoulder towards the corridor that led to the bedrooms, you were still busy helping Naya wash up. He walked over to the table, fingertips gently touching the delicate petals. There was still regret and jealously that bubbled in Toji’s chest. When it came to you, he was selfish, never thought in a million years he’d lose you once he had you. That was his problem. With each longing look at the roses, it reminded him of when he did have you, the beginning of things. He used to buy you flowers just for the hell of it, buy you small trinkets he knew you’d like, addicted to your smile when he’d handed them to you. But like almost everything in this world, things fall apart.

Those moments turned into him coming home while you were in the kitchen, eating dinner with Naya and Megumi, not even glancing your way. Not a word to you or his kids all because of an argument you had before he left for work that morning. Of course he regrets it all now, when it’s too late for something to be done and said. It’s cliche, but it was true.

His eyes flickered towards the small card by the roses, his jaw clenched as he grabbed it, slowly opening it to read:

Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman — Kento

“Hey.” The sound of your voice snapped Toji out of his thoughts, quickly placing the card down and facing you. “The kids are, uh, asleep.” You nodded.

“Should we talk here or?” Toji cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“Bedroom should be fine.” As you walked down the corridor, Toji followed behind you. There was still that picture of you and the kids on the wall, the one that he took when you all went to the water park. It was a bittersweet moment, but he’s glad that you still had it up despite the memory that came with it.

He shut the bedroom door behind him as you stood in the middle of the room. “So, you wanted to talk about the kids and us?”

“Yeah, I just want us to find a level placement where we can co-parent healthily. You know…where we don’t fight and argue every time we talk to each other,” you explained with a slight chuckle. “I just want better communication. Like if you can’t or can take the kids, if you’ll be going to their school events or something.” You fiddled with your hands.

Toji stared at you even while you avoided eye content with him. He took notice you how you played with your hands too, something you always did when you were anxious, thinking about things. He could tell something else was on your mind. Something else was on his mind too.

“What I’m saying is, I just think we should strictly keep communication minimal. Just about our kids. What we do with our personal lives should be kept private unless it involves Naya and Megs somehow.” You inhaled, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Toji’s brows furrowed at your statement. “Isn’t that what we have been doing?” He questioned, leaning against your wall.

“Despite what you might think, no. And to be honest, I know that you know that not what we’ve doing, Toji,” you scoff.

“If this is about what’s been going on the last few months, I apologize,” he spoke.

“It’s,” you sigh, “it’s more than that. Ever since the divorce, we never acted divorced.”

“You mean how we were still sleeping together,” he bluntly said.

You rolled your eyes at how honest he was, but you should know by now that he was no different from when you first met him. “Yes,” you answered.

“We haven’t slept together in months—”

“And about the unresolved feelings that we still hold for each other. That needs to stop. All of it,” You interrupt.

Toji was at a loss for words, staring at you, and finally for the first time in this conversation, you locked eyes with him. “You’re really taking this guy seriously, huh?”

You sigh, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “He’s a good guy, Toji.”

“I never said he wasn’t.” He shrugged, standing up straight.

“Okay, but you’re acting weird about it. Why can’t you accept that I’ve moved on? You should do the same.” You stood upright. “Me and you,” you gestured between you and Toji, “it won’t work out.”

Toji knew in the back of his head that you were right, but to hear those words out loud felt like a knife to the heart. Both of you stood in silence. All kinds of thoughts were running through his head, every single of them screaming at him to say something, to try and get you to change your mind. He doesn’t want to argue or fight, not anymore, so he holds his thoughts and feelings back even if it does hurt.

Say something. Don’t. Say it. Just keep quiet. Tell her.

“I’ve tried to move on just so you know. I’ve really tried, y/n.” And there it goes. There goes the words spilling out of his mouth despite what may come next. He just needs you to hear him just this one last time. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t change a thing between you two, he needs you to know regardless. “Trying to get with different woman, having sex, drinking, pretending to be who I was before I met you. But where did I end up each time? Right back to you, right back in your bed, in your home, holding you, kissing you, regretting everything bad I’ve ever done to you, to our kids.”

“Toji—”

“We were together for 10 years, married for 8 . As soon as you told me you were pregnant with Megs, I knew right then I wanted to make you my wife, to build a bigger family with you, to do right by you and our kids. I can’t just throw all that away, all those memories. Even the bad ones. You changed me, made me want to be better. No other woman has done that but you.” Toji walked closer towards you. It felt like your feet were glued to the floor, incapable of moving.

“Then why did you treat me that way?” Your voice slightly broke as you held back tears. “Like you were beginning to hate me, to hate us.” The thought made you clench your eyes shut as a frown formed on your lips. You hated to remember. Your should began to shake as a sob racked through your body. “You don’t understand how that made me feel,” you whimpered.

Toji looked at you with soft eyes. “I never hated you or the kids, not a fucking second. That thought would never even cross my mind. Hate the woman who brought me the most beautiful thing life can bring you? Hate them? Even though they can be a pain in the ass,” he chuckled. You laughed along with him, nodding in agreement. “Look at me, mama.” Toji lifted your chin, wiping the tears off of your cheeks. “I can never hate you or our kids. Tell me that you understand that.”

“I understand.” You sniffled.

“I know the way I started treating you and our family towards the end is what caused everything to fall apart. I don’t know why I did what I did. Arguing with you over stupid shit, acting like a fucking asshole, not being there when I should’ve. You had every right to leave. It’s my own fault that I didn’t realize what I had before it was gone. I’ll live with that for the rest of my life. You’re an amazing woman, a beautiful person, a wonderful mother. You were everything I could ever ask for. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were any less than that.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly while you cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

For the first time in years, you and Toji had a conversation without it turning into a heated argument. It was like a huge weight lifted off of your shoulders, like you could finally take a deep breath of fresh air. Toji just held you while you cried it out, rubbing your back gently. Though it hurts, he’s glad he was able to tell you, to apologize. “Mama, you deserve to move on and be happy. It’ll hurt like hell for me, but that’s what I deserve for what I did. My karma. I’ll level with you, I’ll do what you want.”

You pulled away from him, teary eyes staring up into his. “You mean it?”

Without hesitation he replied, “of course.” If it wasn’t painfully obvious already, Toji was still in love with you. How could he not be? He’ll miss you, miss the times you spent together. He wishes he could make up for all those bad times, replace those memories with good ones.

“Thank you, Toji.” You softly smiled.

“Dont thank me. It’s the least I could do.” He held onto your hand, his warm touch lingering on your skin before he pulled it away. “I’ll see you around, y/n.” Before he said anything else, he needed to walk away. Opening your bedroom door, he disappeared from your sight down the hall. You bit down on your bottom lip, brows furrowed as you sat there and began to process everything that happened.

Toji sat in his car outside your house. “Fuck,” he sighed. It should be him. You and him. He should be buying you flowers, kissing your soft lips, holding you tight, making love to you, telling you he loves you. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as looked at your front door. In front of him, a familiar car pulled into your driveway. Toji sat and watched closely, noticing it was the man he caught a glimpse of in your house, your new boyfriend, Kento. As he walked up the steps, you opened the door for him before he knocked, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his lips with a smile. His hands were on your waist as he kissed you back, pulling you closer towards him.

Toji tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him, jaw clenched as he started his car. You were his karma and the woman he was in love with.

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[missarchive]

cognitive dissonance pt 2 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part one

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! fingering, munch!spencer, oral m. receiving, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie, snowballing, cum eating, lots n lots of praise

word count: 6k

a/n: happy new year beautiful people! part two is here!!! for the moment, I don’t have an upload schedule set up, however, I’m aiming for 1-2 posts per week :)

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Spencer—fourteen days that felt like an eternity. Two weeks of tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that never came, as your mind replayed the details of your last tutoring session with him. It wasn’t just the academic concepts you’d reviewed together that stuck with you. No, it was the way he looked at you, his intense gaze lingering a little too long, and the way his voice softened when he spoke your name. The memory of his touch—gentle but deliberate—refused to fade, haunting your waking moments and creeping into your dreams.

Since then, communication had been sparse. A handful of texts here and there, each one polite, almost painfully casual. The conversations felt hollow, as if the weight of that evening had been neatly tucked away, never to be acknowledged again. You told yourself it made sense—he was a PhD student, after all, drowning in research, teaching, and responsibilities you could only imagine. Still, the silence gnawed at you. It was the kind of quiet that demanded answers you didn’t have, leaving you to fill the void with doubt and endless overthinking.

Was he avoiding you? Regretting what had happened? Maybe it was nothing to him—a fleeting moment he’d already forgotten. The thought made your chest tighten, a painful reminder of how much you cared.

You sighed deeply and flopped onto your bed, the soft glow of your phone screen illuminating your face as you scrolled through your messages. Your thumb hovered over his name, debating whether to text him. It was late—just past 11 p.m.—but sleep wasn’t an option. Your thoughts were too loud, a chaotic symphony of unanswered questions and lingering what-ifs.

And then, as if the universe had been reading your mind, your phone buzzed in your hand. The vibration startled you, and your breath caught as his name appeared on the screen.

Spencer: Still up?

Your heart leapt, the steady rhythm faltering as your pulse quickened. You sat up, gripping your phone tightly, your eyes scanning the words as if they might evaporate. Without letting yourself overthink, you quickly typed a response.

You: Yeah. What’s up?

The three dots appeared almost immediately, a sign that he was typing, and you held your breath. Each passing second felt like an eternity. Finally, his message arrived, and your heart did a little flip.

Spencer: Been thinking about you.

Heat rose to your cheeks, your face flushing as his words sank in. A rush of emotions swirled within you—excitement, nervousness, and an undeniable thrill. You typed back, trying to sound nonchalant, though your hands were trembling.

You: Oh? What about me?

The seconds stretched out again, the anticipation nearly unbearable. When his next message came, it was like a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

Spencer: About how good you looked on your couch.

Your stomach flipped, and your fingers hovered over the keyboard. His words carried a weight that sent shivers down your spine, reigniting memories you’d tried to suppress. Your reply came slower this time, careful but curious.

You: Is that so?

The response came swiftly, almost as if he’d been waiting for your permission to continue.

Spencer: Mmhm. I keep thinking about how soft you felt under my hands. The way you sounded when I touched you.

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. The line between apprehension and exhilaration blurred as you reread his message, your mind spinning with the possibilities of what might come next.

The air in your room felt suddenly stifling, heavy with the weight of anticipation and unspoken words. You had to remind yourself to breathe, each inhale shallow and unsteady. Your chest rose and fell as you glanced around the space, a futile attempt to ground yourself. Even though you were completely alone, a strange self-consciousness washed over you, as if someone might burst through the door and catch you in this intimate moment of vulnerability.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating your next move. Finally, you typed out a response, trying to inject a casual tone that you didn’t quite feel.

You: You’ve been busy, though. I figured you forgot about me.

The reply came almost instantly, faster than you’d anticipated.

Spencer: Forget you? Not possible.

Spencer: In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to show me again… tonight.

Your heart thundered in your chest, each beat loud and insistent, as if it might break free at any moment. You blinked at the screen, rereading his words to make sure you hadn’t imagined them. They weren’t casual; there was no mistaking his intent. His words were deliberate, confident—an invitation as clear as it was thrilling.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you typed, your pulse quickening with every keystroke.

You: Are you serious?

His response was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for your question.

Spencer: I’m already on my way.

Your eyes widened, the breath catching in your throat as you read his message. Time seemed to slow, each second dragging out as your thoughts raced. You glanced around your room, suddenly hyper aware of the clutter—the unmade bed, the pile of laundry in the corner, the books scattered haphazardly on your desk. Panic bubbled beneath the surface as you hurriedly straightened a few things, though you knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling your attention back.

You: What if I said no?

The pause before his reply felt agonizing, but when it came, it wasn’t what you expected.

Spencer: Then I’d turn around and leave you alone. But I don’t think you’re going to say no.

You stared at his message, the certainty in his words stirring something deep within you. He was confident but not presumptuous, giving you an out even as he made it clear he knew where this was heading. For a brief moment, you hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Then, with a shaky exhale, you typed your response.

You: You’re right. Door’s unlocked.

Your phone vibrated again almost instantly, his reply sending a shiver down your spine.

Spencer: Good girl.

The two simple words ignited something in you, a thrill coursing through your veins like wildfire. You set your phone down, your palms damp with sweat as you glanced at the door. The minutes that followed were excruciating, each one dragging on endlessly. The waiting made your nerves fray, anticipation twisting in your stomach like a coiled spring.

Finally, a soft knock broke the silence, sharp and precise. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stood, wiping your hands on your pants to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly as you walked to the door, your breath uneven and shallow.

When you opened it, there he was—Spencer. He stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed but his presence anything but. His eyes found yours immediately, and for a brief moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, as his gaze lingered, a slow, familiar smirk curved his lips. It was the same one that had been haunting your thoughts for weeks, and seeing it now sent a rush of heat through you.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of everything that had gone unsaid.

“Miss me?” Spencer asked, his voice warm with teasing confidence as he stepped inside without waiting for an answer.

He moved with an easy grace, his presence filling the space effortlessly. You closed the door behind him, your heart pounding like a drumbeat in your chest. He lingered by the entrance, his hands still tucked casually into his pockets, but his gaze was anything but idle. It swept over you deliberately, taking in every detail. For a moment, you were certain he could hear the rapid rhythm of your pulse.

“You seem nervous,” he remarked, his tone low and smooth, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a small gesture meant more to ground yourself than to project confidence. “Well, you did show up unannounced,” you replied, aiming for a tone of nonchalance, even as your voice betrayed a slight tremor.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, his expression amused. “True,” he conceded, taking a single, measured step closer. His gaze remained fixed on yours, warm yet intent, as if he were studying you anew, unraveling layers you hadn’t realized were exposed. “But I had a feeling you wouldn’t mind.”

Your cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading over your skin that you couldn’t suppress. Still, you held his gaze, refusing to let him see the full extent of how deeply he affected you. “What gave you that idea?”

Spencer’s smirk deepened, his confidence unwavering. “You unlocked the door.”

The simple truth in his words made your breath catch, but before you could formulate a response, he closed the remaining distance between you. His hands rose with an unhurried confidence, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity in his eyes. His touch was firm yet gentle, grounding yet electrifying, as he tilted your head slightly to ensure your eyes stayed locked on his.

“You don’t need to pretend,” he murmured, his voice softer now, rich with meaning. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, the touch featherlight but potent enough to leave your skin tingling. “I’ve been thinking about you every day since I left.”

The weight of his admission hit you like a wave, stealing your breath and leaving you momentarily speechless. His gaze held yours with such intensity that it felt like he could see right through you, every thought, every doubt laid bare before him.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want this again,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper, the vulnerability in your words hanging between you like a fragile thread.

His lips curved into a smile, softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something genuine, something that made your chest ache. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The tension between you was electric, crackling in the charged silence that followed. Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tug him closer. His lips captured yours with a deliberation that stole your breath, the kiss unhurried but searing, as if he wanted to savor every second.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, the softness giving way to something far more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, each touch igniting a fire that consumed you from the inside out.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his voice husky and filled with awe. His hands roamed over your back, his touch firm yet reverent, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you melted into him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. When his hands dipped lower, gripping your hips with just enough pressure to draw a soft gasp from your lips, he paused, pulling back just enough to search your face. His eyes, dark and filled with longing, studied you intently, his expression a mix of desire and quiet admiration.

“Still okay?” Spencer asked again, his voice calm but edged with a restraint that made your heart race.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gliding down to rest against the firm planes of his chest.

His lips curled into a soft smile as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured, the words low and velvety, sending a shiver down your spine.

He caught the subtle reaction instantly, his smirk deepening with satisfaction. Without breaking eye contact, his hands found your waist and gently guided you backward until your legs brushed the edge of the couch. The soft pressure behind his movements made it impossible to resist as he eased you down, following without hesitation. His body hovered over yours, the closeness making your skin tingle with anticipation.

Spencer’s lips found the delicate curve of your neck, each kiss deliberate, leaving a searing trail of heat in their wake. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your sides. The warmth of his touch made you arch into him instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured against your neck, his voice dripping with admiration. “I missed this.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, but before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, silencing every thought. His kiss was consuming, pulling you into a world where nothing else existed but him. His hands moved with practiced confidence, exploring every inch of you as though rediscovering territory he’d longed for since the last time.

Spencer’s lips left your mouth to trail down your neck again, pressing slow, lingering kisses that made your breath hitch. His hands pushed your shirt higher, sliding it up over your ribs, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that set you alight. He paused as his hands reached just below your bra, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours with a question unspoken.

His lips claimed yours again, this time more demanding, his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your bra, one palm cupping your breast with a touch that was both firm and reverent. The sensation pulled a soft whimper from you, and he smirked against your mouth, clearly pleased with your response.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, deliberate circles. The motion made your body arch into his touch, your breath hitching with every movement. “I could spend hours just figuring out what makes you react like this.”

The weight of his words, heavy with intent, sent a shiver down your spine. Your breath came in shallow gasps as his other hand slid down the curve of your side, his fingers finding your waistband. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for permission.

You nodded quickly, your need for his touch eclipsing any hesitation.

Spencer made quick work of the button and zipper, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers moved with deliberate precision, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made your head fall back against the couch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and mischief. “So perfect.”

His words sent a flush of heat across your cheeks, but the gentle pressure of his fingers chased away any lingering self-consciousness. As he increased his rhythm, a soft cry escaped your lips, and his smirk widened.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice steady and sure. “Let me hear you. I want to know exactly how I’m making you feel.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt as your body responded to every calculated movement of his fingers. His lips returned to your neck, trailing soft kisses and playful nips down to your collarbone. The combination of his touch and his words unraveled you, leaving you at his mercy.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “You’re doing so well for me.”

The praise, his tone, and the intensity of his focus on you pushed you to the edge of control. You felt yourself teetering on the brink, the tension within you building to an overwhelming crescendo.

Spencer seemed to sense it, his movements adjusting with just enough precision to send you over the edge. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, his voice both commanding and reassuring.

“Let go,” he said softly, his words a promise. “I’ve got you.”

With those words, the tension snapped, and your body trembled beneath his touch. A broken cry escaped your lips as waves of pleasure washed over you, each one more intense than the last. Spencer didn’t stop, his touch slowing but remaining steady as he guided you through every peak and valley, his voice a steady stream of soft praise in your ear.

When the last shudder left your body, he stayed close, his hands gentle as they traced soothing patterns along your skin. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips, grounding you with his touch as the aftershocks faded.

“Beautiful girl,” Spencer murmured against your lips, his tone rich with warmth and affection, yet underscored by a quiet, unmistakable pride. His eyes, soft yet intense, held yours as though he wanted to etch this moment into his memory. “My beautiful girl.”

A shaky laugh bubbled out of you, your chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re... very good at that,” you managed, your voice still unsteady but carrying a faint edge of humor.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic, as his lips curled into a teasing smile. “At what?” he asked, the tilt of his head almost boyish, though his tone was anything but. “Tutoring?”

The deliberate smugness in his voice made your cheeks flush anew, the heat spreading over your skin in a way you were sure he noticed. You swatted at his arm, your touch light and devoid of any real intent.

“You know what I mean,” you said, the words soft but tinged with exasperation.

His grin widened, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose brushing against yours in an almost playful gesture. “I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping into a hushed murmur that sent a ripple through you. “But I like hearing you say it.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was fleeting, your amusement quickly giving way to a deeper warmth as his hand slid back up your side. His touch was steady and grounding, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Are you always this confident?” you asked, your voice quieter now, carrying a note of genuine curiosity that you couldn’t quite hide.

Spencer’s expression shifted subtly, the teasing edge softening as something more earnest took its place. His gaze swept over your face, lingering as though he was memorizing every detail. “Not always,” he admitted, his hand moving to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “But with you… it feels natural.”

The sincerity in his words struck a chord deep within you, and before you could think better of it, you leaned into his touch, your body responding instinctively to the safety and reassurance he offered. “I’ve never…” you started, your voice faltering as you searched for the right words. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened slightly at your admission, a flicker of something possessive and raw flashing behind his gaze. His thumb drifted to your bottom lip, brushing against it with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

“Good,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. “Because I don’t want to share you.”

The intensity of his words left you momentarily speechless, your thoughts scattered as his gaze locked onto yours, unwavering and full of intent. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken promises.

Before you could summon a reply, Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was achingly slow and deliberate. His movements were measured, as though savoring every moment, his lips moving against yours with a precision that felt both practiced and deeply personal.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His touch was firm yet gentle, his presence an anchor as your emotions swirled around you like a storm.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breath mingled with yours in the quiet space between you. His eyes searched yours, as though seeking reassurance that you felt it too—that connection, undeniable and electric.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Your chest tightened at his words, a flood of warmth spreading through you as you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

"Spence," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle caress as your fingers reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The intimate gesture made his eyes flutter briefly, his expression softening as he focused on you.

"I want to try something," you continued, your voice laced with both anticipation and nervous energy.

"Mm, what's that?" he asked, his voice low and velvety, his eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You felt a smile tug at your lips, a warmth blooming in your chest as you leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against his lips. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Will you let me?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his analytical mind clearly at work as he tried to piece together what you meant. His hesitation wasn’t reluctance, just the natural curiosity that came with him wanting to understand.

“Of course,” he said finally, his voice soft yet steady, carrying an underlying trust that made your heart flutter. “Anything you want.”

A grin spread across your face, uncontainable in its sincerity, and you pressed another kiss to his jaw before moving with deliberate purpose. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly sank to your knees before him, your hands already reaching for the button of his jeans.

The shift in his expression was immediate—surprise flickering across his face before it quickly gave way to understanding. His pupils dilated, his lips parting as anticipation replaced his initial confusion.

“Oh,” he breathed, the word barely audible but thick with desire. “Yes, please.”

You didn’t respond verbally, letting your actions speak for you as your fingers deftly unfastened the button and slid down the zipper of his jeans. The fabric parted easily, and you guided it down his hips, revealing the outline of his already hard length straining against the material of his boxers.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against the bulge. The sharp intake of breath he let out was all the encouragement you needed.

“Fuck,” Spencer hissed, his voice strained, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or let you take the lead.

Your grin widened at his reaction, a heady sense of satisfaction coursing through you as your hands traveled down to tug his boxers lower. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, and the sight sent a thrill through you.

Though you’d seen him countless times before, this felt different—more intimate, more charged. The proximity, the quiet hum of electricity between you, made your pulse quicken with anticipation.

Glancing up, you caught Spencer’s gaze, holding it as you wrapped a hand around his length. Your touch was light at first, tentative yet deliberate, and his groan in response sent a shiver down your spine.

His head tipped back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forced them open again, clearly unwilling to lose the connection between you. The way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the slight clench of his jaw as you stroked him—it was intoxicating.

You tightened your grip slightly, your strokes becoming more deliberate as you watched his expression shift. His breathing grew heavier, his hips beginning to rock forward in time with your movements.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, his words barely audible over the sound of his own labored breathing.

You didn’t stop, your hand working in steady, measured strokes as you reveled in every sound, every reaction you drew from him. The way his lips parted, the slight hitch in his breath when your thumb brushed over the sensitive head—it all spurred you on, filling you with a sense of power and connection unlike anything else.

Spencer’s hand finally found its way to your cheek, his touch featherlight as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw. When his gaze met yours again, there was a vulnerability in his expression, an unspoken gratitude that made your heart swell.

"Fuck, angel," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "That feels so good."

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. He tasted salty and musky, a hint of bitterness lingering on your tongue.

Spencer let out a strangled gasp, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You couldn't help but grin, taking more of him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip.

"Shit," he swore, his voice ragged.

You hummed around him, the vibrations causing his hips to buck again.

"God, you're so good," he praised, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging gently.

The words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you moaned, the sound muffled around his cock. You continued working him with your mouth and hand, relishing in the sounds he made, the way his body reacted to your touch.

He was close, you could tell. His breathing was labored, his hips rocking steadily now, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"Baby, I'm—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he came, spilling down your throat, his body shuddering with pleasure.

You swallowed him down, licking him clean as he shuddered through the aftershocks. You pulled away, pressing a soft kiss against his hipbone before looking up, your expression showing a hint of shyness.

"Was that okay?" you asked, your voice soft.

"More than okay," he assured you, his gaze heated. "That was amazing."

You couldn't help the swell of pride that filled your chest, and you rose to your feet, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips. He sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, his body still trembling slightly.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice laced with adoration.

You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading through your entire body.

"I love you too," you replied, leaning into his embrace.

In that moment, you knew that there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Spencer wasted no time, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses and bites in their wake. His hands wandered up and down your body, mapping every curve and dip, until finally, his fingers reached the hem of your shirt.

"Can I?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

"God, yes," you gasped, arching into his touch.

He grinned, his fingers moving quickly to unbutton your shirt, exposing the thin lace bra underneath. His eyes darkened, his gaze hungry as he took in the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, more to himself than anything, his voice soft with admiration.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words affecting you more than you expected. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting along the top of your breasts, before pressing a trail of kisses along the exposed skin.

"Spence," you whined, squirming beneath his touch. "Please."

He chuckled, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing the lace-covered nipples. You gasped, arching into his touch as the sensation sent sparks of pleasure through you.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured you, his voice low and husky. "We have all the time in the world."

The reminder of how much time you actually had set your mind at ease, and you relaxed into his touch, letting him explore your body at his own pace.

His lips continued their journey down your torso, tracing along the waistband of your panties until finally, he was kneeling between your legs, his fingers hooked into the fabric.

"Lift up," he instructed, his gaze meeting yours.

You obeyed, your hips rising off the desk so he could slide your skirt down, along with your underwear. He tossed them aside, his gaze roaming over you, his expression a mixture of hunger and admiration.

"Such a pretty little pussy," he breathed, his voice rough with desire.

You blushed, the praise causing a warmth to bloom deep in your chest.

"Spence, please," you pleaded, desperate for him to touch you.

He grinned, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh.

"I've got you, sweet girl," he assured you, his words a promise. "Just relax for me."

He moved his lips higher, placing a soft kiss against your folds, before finally, his tongue swiped across your clit, causing you to gasp and buck against him. He gripped your hips, holding you steady as he continued licking and sucking, teasing your clit and working you open.

You couldn't stop the cries that fell from your lips, his touch setting you on fire. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and guiding him closer, as if you couldn't get enough of him.

He moaned against you, the vibration sending shivers through your entire body. You arched into him, your hips rocking against his mouth, seeking more friction.

"Fuck, Spencer," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, before plunging his tongue into you, the sensation causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"So good," he murmured, his words muffled by the way his tongue was moving inside you. "So sweet."

You felt the pressure building deep inside you, the tension coiling tighter with each flick of his tongue, every brush of his fingers against your clit.

"Spence, I'm gonna—"

Before you could finish the sentence, the tension snapped, and you came undone, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, until finally, you slumped back against the desk, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer pulled away, pressing a soft kiss against your hip bone, before standing and gazing down at you.

"You're gorgeous when you cum," he murmured, his tone filled with adoration.

You laughed, the sound breathless, and tugged him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What about you?" you asked, your voice laced with concern. "Do you need—"

Spencer's lips were like fire against your skin, trailing a path of soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you, the sound eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Is there something you want?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"You," you gasped, your hips bucking against him, desperate for friction.

He grinned, his hands moving to grasp your hips, holding you still. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice teasing. "I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

You couldn't help but smile, loving the playful side of him that only came out during these moments.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your tone.

His eyes flashed with amusement, his gaze never leaving yours as his fingers brushed against your core, slipping between your folds.

You moaned, the sound filling the air around you, and Spencer's lips curved into a smug grin.

"God, you're so wet for me," he murmured, his tone filled with satisfaction. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Spencer’s words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, his deep, measured tone setting every nerve alight. His hands trailed along your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as he settled himself between your legs.

“I think I have an idea,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to match his playful tone, though the anticipation thrumming through you made it difficult to stay composed.

He chuckled, low and rich, the sound vibrating through you as he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck. His lips brushed against your skin with agonizing precision, leaving you gasping for more. “You’re so impatient,” he murmured, his words soft but teasing. “I love it.”

“Spencer,” you pleaded, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to press closer. “Please.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with intent. “Please, what?” he asked softly, his voice laced with a smugness that only made your cheeks burn hotter.

“You,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need you.”

His lips curved into a small, approving smile, and he reached down, unbuckling his belt with a confidence that made your heart race. “Good girl,” he murmured, his praise making your body respond instinctively, your hips shifting toward him in anticipation.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he adjusted himself, his length brushing against your entrance in a way that made you gasp.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his tone soft but edged with something darker, more commanding.

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands sliding to his back, desperate for more of his touch. “Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed inside, the stretch leaving you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he filled you completely, his movements precise yet measured.

“God,” he groaned, his voice unsteady as he paused, giving you a moment to adjust. “You feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t form words, your mind overwhelmed by the sensation of him, the way he fit perfectly against you. Instead, you let out a soft moan, your body arching into his as you clung to him.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he began to move. His thrusts were slow and deliberate at first, each one calculated to make you feel every inch of him.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to keep up with his pace.

He grinned against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s it,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Let me hear you.”

His words only heightened the sensations, the tension building in your core with every movement. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts as he buried himself deeper with each motion.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with reverence. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his gaze, the rhythm of his body, the sound of his praise—it was all too much, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Cum for me, sweet girl,” he said softly, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both commanding and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

His words were the final push you needed, and you shattered beneath him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Spencer’s movements didn’t falter, his pace steady as he guided you through your release, his own groan of satisfaction filling the air as he followed you over the edge.

When you finally came back down, your body spent and your breathing uneven, Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Body moving back down your body to rest between your legs once more. “I can’t- Spence…” Your hands reach down to grip onto his hair instinctively.

He immediately presses a kiss to your inner thigh, thumbs smoothing over your swollen pussy lips. “Shh, pretty girl. I won’t, I’m just looking. Will you let me, hm?” You whine slightly but nod nonetheless, completely entranced.

Gentle hands squeeze at your flesh and spread you open, folds parting to show the slick, milky trail of cum leaking out from your hole. Leaning down to press one final kiss to your clit, he glides his tongue up through your cunt, collecting it all on his tongue before claiming your lips back in a kiss and forcing his cum inside your own mouth.

You moan into his mouth, his arms now wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “I don’t ever want to forget how you taste.”

You smiled against his chest, your cheeks still flushed as you murmured, “I won’t say no to that.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting, and for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Unpopular Synastry Opinions (From the Voice of Pain) – Part 3

Most people glamorize synastry, but the reality is clear—we only need to look at the number of toxic relationships, divorces, and unhappy couples to see that it’s not all glitter and gold.

• Obsession in synastry often reveals itself through Pluto, Chiron, Saturn, and Mars. Let’s break them down:

Pluto’s obsession arises through exposure—it illuminates deep cravings or intense shame. This can manifest as an overwhelming pull toward the other person or a deep fear that the other will leave once they uncover your hidden wounds.

Chiron, especially through trines and sextiles, can create obsession because the person feels emotionally dependent on Chiron’s healing energy. The fear of losing this healing force can lead to deep attachment.

Saturn’s obsession is more subtle. It can show up as avoidance (causing one person to chase), or emotional coldness (causing the other to work tirelessly for love). It’s quiet but persistent, leaving the other unaware of how much energy they’re investing to earn Saturn’s affection.

Mars, on the other hand, obsesses out of control and conquest. Mars wants things its way, and it becomes territorial. The obsession comes from wanting to dominate, to own, to control how the other behaves and responds.

• Now, let’s talk about the 12th house. Often called the “spiritual” house due to its association with Pisces, it is more accurately the house of undoing—self-sabotage. In synastry, the 12th house often represents hidden sabotage in relationships.

While it may feel “fated” or “karmic” at first, it’s usually the house person who sabotages things. They’re not prepared to offer love when confronted with their own unconscious wounds. The 12th house reveals what we don’t want to see, and the relationship becomes a mirror to that denial.

• Twin flame synastry is often a euphemism for recreating personal wounds. If an astrologer tells you, “This is your twin flame,” it’s not inherently a compliment. Struggle love is not sacred. It’s a cycle.

• Squares represent tension, but the real question is: is the tension internal or external? ( because it MATTERS)

• Moon squares are internal. They fester quietly, creating emotional distance and eventual resentment.

• Mercury squares are external, manifesting through arguments or miscommunication.

• Ascendant squares are external too, often creating identity clashes.

• Mars squares express tension outwardly and physically—through action or aggression.

Internal tension is the slow destroyer. External tension is at least visible and, with effort, addressable.

• Sexual synastry is more nuanced than people think. You can have strong sexual aspects with a friend or even a relative, so I don’t rely on typical “sex” indicators. ( BECAUSE WHO SAID PASSION IS WHAT EVERYONE WANTS SEXUALLY?)

True sexual compatibility comes from:

• Mercury – communicating your needs.

• Venus – expressing love in ways that create intimacy.

• The Moon – creating emotional safety.

Desire is unique to the natal chart:

• Fire-heavy charts? Mars lights the flame.

• Water-heavy? The Moon or Pluto pulls deeply.

• Earth-heavy? Venus builds grounded desire.

• Air-heavy? Mercury ignites the mind, which leads the body.

• If you’ve ever felt like someone’s caretaker in a relationship, check for 6th house synastry. The planet person often becomes the responsible one—not always out of love, but because they’re less emotionally expressive. Unfortunately, if poorly aspected, 6th house synastry can lead to resentment, control, or even emotional abuse.

• Jealousy in synastry often stems from Sun and Mars aspects: ( sorry to inform you: jealousy does exist between partners)

• The Sun creates identity-based envy: “I’m jealous of how you shine.”

• Mars sparks competition: “I’m jealous of what you do or have.”

The Sun can overshadow a partner. Mars can drive the other into inadequacy.

• Uranus creates instability. Pluto, without healing, ensures endings. If the transformation doesn’t happen, the relationship dies. And it should end because if not, it turns ABUSIVE.

• 4th house synastry is the definition of tenderness when positively aspected. It feels like home. But if it’s negatively aspected, it can drag you through your childhood wounds. ( negatively aspected and you’ll resent them like you do your parents)

• Men with Saturn-heavy charts often tie their worth to work and money. When love enters their lives, their insecurity sabotages it. The same goes for Scorpio-heavy men—distrust rooted in past wounds makes them sabotage love unless they’ve truly healed.

• If your synastry includes North Node, Pluto, Chiron, and Uranus, a breakup is highly probable. These aspects demand growth, healing, and deep transformation—things many aren’t ready for. ( most people don’t like change, we are creatures of habits after all)

• Safe relationships aren’t boring—they’re sustainable. Relationships that require constant work are not romantic; they are exhausting. Safe relationships only feel boring to those who still need to heal. And safe relationships aren’t avoidant ONES! Those don’t feel safe!

• When we stop equating love with pain, we begin to see synastry differently. We stop clinging to so-called “positive” aspects and begin doing the deeper work. Because what do you mean his Pluto square’s your Mars but you guys have Sun-Venus conjunction so you’re fine. PUHLLLLEASSEEE.

• If a connection feels fated, it may change your life—but not always for the better. Fate often mirrors wounds. It creates a loop of familiarity, not always of growth.

• As an astrologer, I see:

• Neptune – A person escaping their healing by merging with someone else.

• Pluto – Someone reliving their past pain.

• Chiron – Someone who doesn’t feel whole alone, seeking salvation in another.

• I often hear, “We had great synastry, but it didn’t work.” The answer usually lies in one of two places:

1. Harsh natal placements to Chiron, Pluto, or Saturn ( cause baby you can’t run away from your own self)

2. The astrologer focused on positive aspects and didn’t decode the chart correctly. Or they just want your money so they will tell you sweet things to get you coming back for more!

[meowrimo]

☽◯☾ - SMOKIN' ACES

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : The ASL brothers know how to throw a good party and tonight was no different.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. portgas d. ace x f!reader ; dubcon as they are high, descriptive weed use, shotgunning, surprise voyeur alert (someone might be listening...), unprotected sex, dry humping, use of pet names (baby, good girl), impact play if you squint — WC : 3.4k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Full Moon ! ꒱ — Kinktober Masterlist

The basement was a cozy little spot that only the members of the house and certain special guests could be privy to. During the notorious parties, it was a safe haven, a place of refuge- Somewhere to get some air, get away from the noise, and regroup with the people who meant most to you.

It was full of little touches from over the years. A series of disjointed chairs and faded couches all in a circle with a busted coffee table in the center that either had a bong or hookah on it, ready for community use. 

Always playing chill music, full of wondrous paintings and vibrant murals that various friends have done — it was the clubhouse of all clubhouses and all run by the ASL boys themselves; Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.

The first member, the self-proclaimed founding member, is currently sitting next to you with a triumphant smile on his face, grinding up some weed. After the exhausting day at the beach, everyone has decided to go out to the bar instead of staying in for the night.

A part of you had wanted to go with them and maybe do a couple of shots and make out with someone for a little while. A night where your head was as fizzy as a champagne bottle and maybe you could get your mind off of a certain someone.

But then Ace had given you the look.

That look with those big brown puppy eyes of his that never failed to have you cater to his every whim — annoyingly so. 

So you find yourself here, in the still smoke-filled air basement that was full of character from a group of the rowdy young adults you’ve come to know so well next to the man you’ve been pining over since the day you met him.

“I can't believe you dressed up like the dude from Magic Mike.” You flick his cowboy hat up, knocking it back and giving it a slightly disheveled look.

“Not just any dude, I'm dressed as Dallas.” Ace shakes his head, focused on rolling another joint in his favorite strawberry-printed rolling paper for the two of you to share. The one you had earlier burned out with the group and Ace had promised you another if you agreed to stay behind with him

“You just wanted an excuse to be shirtless.” Not that you were really complaining.

“First of all, I'm not shirtless.” Ace patted the unbuttoned vest that loosely hung over his taut frame. “Second of all, I did it for the hat that you so rudely hurt.”

“My apologies then.” The sarcasm drips from your tone and Ace casts you a sidelong glance, sticking his tongue out at you before using it to lick the joint.

“At least I was creative.” He says, his dark eyes trailing along your body. Even though he’s clearly appraising the outfit and not you, a chill runs down your spine. “Weren’t you a cat last year too?”

“Shut up, you know that Luffy ruined the angel wings I was going to wear.” Ace hands you the joint in surrender, motioning for you to go first as he fishes the lighter out from between the couch cushions. 

You put it in your mouth, lips wrapping around the filter as the sparks fly. It illuminates the small space in front of you and casts a soft glow over Ace's freckled face. 

Suddenly, he felt a little too close. You take in the way he carefully lights it for you, his tongue peeking out as he focuses on the task at hand. As soon as the flame catches the paper, his eyes flicker up to yours.

You inhale, begrudgingly taking in some of the smoke of the wrap before it cherries at the end, an influx of weed hitting your lungs harsher than you intended.

“Easy now.” Ace tries to stifle his laugh as you cough a little, your head still reeling from the close proximity. He takes the joint from your fingers, gently brushing his against yours before taking a hit himself.

Ever the show-off, the smoke barely leaves his lips before he begins to inhale it through his nose. He smirks at you as he does it, effortlessly inhaling the thick flume of smoke.

“You’re so lame for gatekeeping that trick by the way.” You huff at the man across from you, taking the joint back from him to continue your sesh. 

“I gotta have something to impress you, right?” Ace leans back on the couch a little more, eyes growing hazy and red as he watches you. His tattooed arm dangles off the back of the couch while you try not to take what he says to heart. But he looks back at you, head tilting a little so he peeks at you from under his hat. “But I suppose I can teach you something else.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Taking another hit, you let the smoke rush through your lungs and let it saturate every bit while it screams in protest the longer you hold onto it. Ace shifts ahead, leaning in so he’s closer to you and spreading his legs so his thigh brushes against yours. 

“You really wanna know?” His warm breath caresses your ear as he speaks, his nose barely nudging the lobe. The sudden seductive shift in his voice throws you off your axis and plummets you into his gravitational pull.

“Yes.” The approval slips out of your mouth with the rest of the smoke. 

Ace moves his face so it's in front of yours, his eyes scanning your features as he takes a hit. You’re not even sure when he grabbed the joint but you don’t question it. not when his fingers cup your jaw so sweetly.

“What’re you—“ The question dies out as he shakes his head. Everything feels tingly but the way he’s cusping your face makes it ten times worse, setting your skin on fire as your face heats up.

Carefully, he tilts your head toward him before he leans in. Your breath hitches as his lips brush against yours, his fingers pulling on your jaw so your mouth opens a little more.

With a direct softness you’ve never gotten from him, he blows the smoke out from his mouth and into yours. The weed coats your taste buds before his tongue slips into your mouth to steal it all away. His eagerness rivals the hit in a silent contest of who can take your breath away more.

Ace's hand doesn’t move from your face and he uses it to his advantage to kiss you further. If you thought your mind was fuzzy before, it was absolute static now as your twirls swirl together.

He grins against your lips, humming approvingly as you begin to kiss him back. But it was over far too soon and it takes everything in you not to chase his fleeting lips.

“So?” He smirks and pulls away from you, taking another hit as you try to catch your breath.

“What the hell was that?” Your thigh was still pressing against his but you couldn’t find it in you to move. Part of you longed to push further, to lean into him and melt into his searing touch. But your mind was still trying to play catch up from what just happened.

“Shotgunning.” He blows the smoke out straight into the air and your heart pangs with a strange jealousy. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” You bite your lip. Maybe a little too much. You pause, tasting the words on your tongue before you utter them. “I wanna try it again.”

Ace sucks in his breath, the smoke plummeting to his lungs as he takes in your wish. Coughing slightly, he sits up straighter on the couch and tries to gather himself.

“Yeah?” The gravely rasp in his voice swirls with the underlying desire and draws you in further. 

There’s no going back now.

“Yeah,” You nod slowly. Neither of you bat an eye as you slide into his lap, accidentally rolling your hips against his lap as you do. Ace lets out a choked groan of your name, shifting underneath you. “Ready?”

Galaxies bloom in his eyes as they light up, eagerly tilting his head up in anticipation. The joint sits on your lips before you take the hit, watching him under you as he looks up at you from beneath his dark lashes. Desire pools in your abdomen and before you can think about what you want, your lips meet once again.

It’s a blur between tongues as the smoke fizzles out. You’re not even sure if you did it right, but then again, it wasn’t really your main objective.

The joint disappears from your fingers and you can feel Ace shift to ash it out on the side table. Unburdened, his arms wrap around you and his hands splay across your back, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss.

Your lungs beg for reprieve but the taste of Ace’s sweet tongue is too addicting to let up. But he shows mercy and pulls away, suffering from the same affliction. 

Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, your brain fully saturated in something syrupy sweet that had your hips involuntarily moving again as soon as your foreheads pressed together.

The faint aroma of sea salt still wove itself in the tangled curls of Ace’s hair, filling your senses despite all the smoke that currently clung to the thick air. 

“Ace.” You gasp softly, the faint outline of his hardening cock coming to life right between your thighs. 

“Yeah? You feel that?” To further his point, he pushes his hips up against your overheating core. “Feel what you do to me?”

“Yes.” With every slow grind of your hips, you can feel him growing harder beneath you. The friction was rolling over your body like a wave hitting the shore, but it was fleeting. “I want more.”

“Can you handle more?” The smirk that dangles off his face has you wanting to roll your eyes but you relent. The craving for him was too much, threatening to boil over and fully consume you.

“I can.” You nod, lips hovering over his. “I want to try.”

Ace closes the distance, unable to curb his own carnal urges that run rampant in his body. The way your lips mesh together, tasting like weed and strawberry-flavored chapstick becomes something he knows he’ll get addicted to. 

Your fingers dance along his chest, teasing under the vest before landing on the buckle of his belt. All the while he reaches up your skirt, tugging on your panties and dragging them down your legs.

The rest is a blur of motion, but the messy way his lips move with yours is vivid. It’s almost jarring how much you can taste him, how much his grunts of approval seep into your skin and run through your veins

You pull back at an absolute loss for breath, panting against his mouth as his tongue pokes out to trace your parted lips. The bottom half of your clothes are gone and his are haphazardly halfway down his thigh. 

Ace's hand grips the base of his cock as you hover over it, pumping it and squeezing his tip as it leaks with pearly drops of precum. 

“You're gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” His knuckles brush along your soaked slit, running along it back and forth, absolutely mesmerized as he waits for your answer.

“Yes, I'll be good.” The words are nothing more than a breath of air, your lungs squeezing in protest. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” His tip prods your entrance, both of you throbbing as the last thread of self-control burns like a stick of dynamite. The slow, sparkling crawl of anticipation before everything explodes, lighting each other aflame in a whirlwind of desire. “You turn into such a little slut when you’re high, don’t you?”

“Ace.” You whine, watching the slow spread of his signature boyish grin take up his face. Warm palms rest on your hips, fingers gripping into your skin as he soaks up the absolute need in your voice. 

“What?” He chuckles lowly, his voice still raspy from the smoke. “All I'm saying is that — ohh shit…“

The rest of his sentence melts into a groan as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

“That’s it.” He groaned, his palms sliding to rest on your thighs to help guide you. It takes everything in him not to push you all the way down, letting you take your time as you adjust during your descent.

Everything stands still as he finally bottoms out, filling you up and stretching you out in ways no one has ever done before. The pressure is insurmountable yet it brings you a wave of pleasure that has your body singing for more.

“Holy fuck, you feel like heaven.” Ace practically moans at the way your silky walls clamp around him. His fingers move once again to grip your hips in a bruising hold, stilling himself from spilling into you immediately.

“Of course, you talk a lot during sex.” You let out a scoffed chuckle, clutching onto his shoulders as you spread your legs a little more and letting him sink in even deeper. 

“Aw, complaining already?” He gives you a lazy grin, slowly grinding his hips up against you. The steady throb of his cock melts your brain more than the weed did, the residual high becoming overshadowed by the man under you. “Or let me guess, you just can’t take a compliment?”

“Shut up.” You huff, rocking your hips before raising yourself back up. His cock partially slides out of you and glistens with your essence, coating it completely. Ace's eyes zero in on it, drinking in the sight before you ease back down.

“Fuck.” Ace's head hangs off the back of the couch as he gazes at you through half-lidded eyes. The hat he was wearing falls behind him, completely forgotten. His palms glide along your sides, sliding them up and down before cupping your ass and trying to speed up your movements. “Please, you gotta move faster.”

“Do I?” The gravity of the situation sets in, albeit a little delayed — blame it on the weed. But he was completely at your mercy. The pleading look in his eyes speaks volumes despite the cocky words he so rapidly fires off. You lean down, lips brushing against his ear. “Let me guess, can’t handle it?”

Ace's attention snaps back to you, almost fully alert now. The fog from earlier clears from his head as the words he uttered earlier echo from your pretty little mouth. A new challenge fires off inside of him and he was never one to back down from a fight, no matter the position. With a wicked grin, he thrusts his hips heavenward.

“Oh, I can handle it alright.” He murmurs, rubbing the plushness of your ass before giving it a subtle smack. Your body jolts and your chests crash together, almost every part of you is touching him.

The ever-steady rhythm of your heart spins on its axis, thrown off by the rapid beating that sets in syncopation and you can’t find it in you to care. Not when everything you’ve ever wanted is finally clicking into place.

Your bodies move in a euphoric sync, the ebb and flow of the melody you two orchestrate fills the room in a symphony of bliss. You were drowning into Ace’s very essence and in return, he did the same.

“Shit, baby.” Ace groans at the almost lazy pace. Each delicious drag of his cock had your eyes rolling back to your head. Anytime he twitched inside of you was like another jolt of pleasure — knowing that he was getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you was driving you faster to your end. “I've wanted this for so long.”

“What?” You’re completely breathless now. The confession takes away the last shred of oxygen and rips it out of your lungs. The languid roll of your hips doesn't stop though; your mind, heart, and body all chasing what you want in different ways. “Really?”

“God, yeah.” Ace's fingers slid under your shirt as he grabbed your bra-covered chest. “We need to take this off.”

Impressively, his pace doesn’t falter as he rocks up into you while his hand glides to your back and unhooks your bra. It only takes a few seconds for your chest to become completely bare and his head to find its home in the valley of your breasts.

His tongue trails everywhere. Your body burns under it, relief only pooling in the spot between your thighs and wherever he decides to lick away the flames. It cools you off, the words he said earlier filtering back into your mind as the smoke clears.

“I've wanted this too.” You gasp, bouncing a little quicker to prove how much you’ve needed this — him. Ace groans, teeth grazing the swell of your breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth to muffle the noise. “You feel so good, Ace.”

The candy-sweet praise has his head popping back up from where his tongue was swirling around your pert bud and looks at you, eyes trailing over your blissed-out face and the hearts that swirled in your eyes. 

“Come here.” Ace roughly grabs you by your ass, leaning further back into the couch as you tumble on him. He couldn’t hold back anymore, fucking up into you without abandon.

“A-Ace!” You gasp, trying to squirm away a little but the hold he had you in was too tight.

“Take it for me, baby. You said you would.” He moans. Both of your impending highs are heightened by the weed you inhaled only minutes ago. Pleasure rips through your body, sending it into tremors as your thighs shake. “Let go f’me.”

Your high washes over you immediately, body locking up as Ace continues to pound into you and chase his own release.

And it’s beautiful when he reaches it.

He comes with a choked moan of your name, his body tensing up and his fingers digging into your skin. His cock pulses before he completely empties himself into your greedy cunt with sporadic, shallow thrusts.

Both of you slump against each other, melting into the couch as your mind floats down from the clouds and into his warm embrace.

You pull back a little to admire his freckled face and can’t help but unleash the giggle that bubbles from your chest. It was contagious, as joy often is when you’re around him, and he can’t help but mirror you.

The two of you giggling in each other's arms under the shoddy string lights in the basement that has grown to mean so much to you — even more so now. 

The distinct squeak of the floorboard by the basement door sounds off, snapping you both back into reality.

“I thought we were the only ones here.” You sit up, hastily reaching for your clothes and throwing them on. Ace lifts his hips and slides his back on before kissing you on the top of your head and getting up. “Ace–“

“Stay here.” He turns around the corner and out of sight as he starts to go up the stairs. After a few steps in, the door opens and you straighten up. “Oh, it’s you. You little fucking perv.”

The sound of Ace’s boisterous laughter sounds off as two pairs of legs start coming back down. Every nerve is set on fire, anxiety ripping into your chest at the thought of seeing the person who had been listening in on you and Ace fucking.

But the familiar sight of blonde hair snuffs all the worries away, the dastardly pair smiling at you with devious intent.

“I had to pick up so I couldn’t make it to the bar tonight,” Sabo said with a grin, holding up the bag of weed he must’ve scored. “Must be my lucky day.” 

“Must be.” Ace scoffs, making his way back to you. He plops back down into his spot next to you, immediately mouthing at your neck before his voice curls around your ear. You don ’t break eye contact with Sabo as he stalks closer, placing the bag on the table before taking off his gloves. “What do you say, baby? Wanna let him smoke us up and show him exactly what happened down here?”

tags: @bontensh0e @autumnstuffs

[loudstan]

How to (not) Write a Book

Summary: For Taeyong, asking his mate out was easy. The hard part was not fucking her brains out every time he saw her.

Pairing: Werewolf! Taeyong x Female reader

Warnings: uh...smut as usual. Y/N is horny, bubu snaps at some point and...yeah she fucks around and finds out I guess. Also I made him cry, sorry

 You wanted inspiration and you had found it alright. This town had everything you could need to write your next book: witches, vampires, werewolves and you had even heard you could stumble upon a few faes if you went deep into the forest, which was amazing because faes were becoming a popular topic in literature and your editor was pushing you to write about them.  

The cheap motel where you were staying(which was probably haunted), the lively streets, and even the coffee shop you had just found were out of this world; the cozy interior was illuminated by candles and plates filled with cake magically floated towards their designated table while the baristas prepared beverages that smelled heavenly. 

Too mesmerized by what was happening around you made your way to the counter without looking where you were going and accidentally bumped into a customer who was picking up his order.

“Sorry!” you quickly said. “My bad, I wasn’t paying atten–”

The customer turned around and gasped loudly, dropping his coffee. 

Ok? That was either a very delayed reaction, or you looked ugly enough to scare the poor guy as soon as he saw you. You didn’t want to cause trouble in a foreign land, so you quickly grabbed some tissues from the counter and tried your best to clean the stains of coffee on his clothes.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you a new one,” you insisted, panicking at his lack of reaction. He was just standing there, frozen like a statue.

You finally looked at his face and it was now your turn to gasp.

He was the most alluring person you had ever seen. Was he a fae? A vampire? He had to be a creature who used his beauty to attract his prey, otherwise, it would make no sense that he looked like that. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out and regretted it immediately. Who says that to a stranger?

The man’s eyes sparkled, and his cheeks turned pink as his mouth morphed into a grin. The sight of his pointed teeth heightened his charming face, which you could only describe as unfairly perfectly symmetrical. The universe really had its favorites. 

He didn’t only have natural beauty; his hair was also perfectly styled to match an attire, clearly tailored to his body, and his perfume overpowering the aroma of coffee smelled expensive.

You cleared your throat before trying to communicate once again. “Uh, sorry about that. Are you okay?”

 He licked his lips and his reddened eyes scanned your entire frame, but his only reply was what sounded like a satisfied hum. It was a simple sound, but it did something to you.

It sent shivers down your spine and your heart beat at an erratic pace. Your face felt hot and your body weakened, your legs trembled, and suddenly the room was spinning around you.

But the man’s arms held you in place before you fell flat on the floor and then he pressed your body against his with urgency. 

 His warmth added to the mixture of strange sensations, but even if your body wasn’t functioning properly, your brain was on high alert: if this man had caused you to react like this against your will, then he surely wasn’t human.

You let out a silent cry when his lips caressed your neck. 

Oh no. A vampire. Just your luck. You were going to die.

“I found you,” he murmured against your skin. His voice was way too raspy and deep for such a delicate face like his, and it made you tremble from head to toes. 

Your heart was beating so fast and hard you could hear it. You would probably have a heart attack before he killed you. You whimpered in fear, but a small part of you liked his warmth surrounding you. Why were you suddenly feeling…good? Now you had no doubt he was a vampire, playing with his food by making you feel pleasure before devouring you. 

“Why do you smell distressed?” He purred, sounding a little wounded, and then you felt teeth against your pulse. 

This was it. You couldn’t believe your life would end like this.

You sobbed quietly and closed your eyes, preparing for what was coming, but suddenly you were on the floor, away from the man’s hold. 

You blinked twice and slowly started becoming aware of what was happening around you; the customers and staff were screaming and backing away from the commotion, the beautiful man you had assumed was a vampire was on the floor too, in the opposite corner of the cafe.  Between you and him there was another young man, who the vampire was glaring at furiously.

“What the fuck, Mark?” he hissed.

Mark gulped. His pale face and tense posture showed he was terrified, but he didn’t back down. “Taeyong hyung, you need to calm down.”

“Move,” Taeyong growled.

“I really don’t think this is the right–Oh my god,” he whined when the older bore his teeth and stood up.

 Taeyong tried to walk towards you, but Mark blocked the way.

“Are you challenging your alpha?” Taeyong gnarled.

Mark shook his head but when Taeyong tried to push him out of the way, he locked his arms around the leader solidly and they both fell on the floor, wrestling as their roars made the store’s windows shake and people ran away in terror. 

You tried to get up too, but your legs wouldn’t respond and you could only watch in fear at the animalistic display of power in front of you. 

Soon Mark was forced into submission by Taeyong, but he still made weak attempts to stop him from reaching for you.

In that moment you heard hurried steps and three more men jumped on top of Taeyong, who was furious at their insolence. 

A black haired man checked on Mark, before turning to the source of the riot.

“Taeyong, stop!’

“You don’t tell me what to do, Doyoung,” Taeyong snarled, trying to free himself from his captors. “Get off me!” he growled, jabbing and kicking at them.

“Don’t do this, Taeyong. Not like this,” Doyoung begged, holding Taeyong’s face in his hands. “You’re scaring her.”

Something clicked in Taeyong he stopped struggling. He looked around and saw that the coffee shop had been destroyed, some people were hiding under the tables, and Mark’s lower lip was bleeding. Finally, his eyes landed on your terrified ones and he was consumed by shame and guilt.

“I–” he wanted to apologize, but his body was overwhelmed and before he could say another word, he fell unconscious in his friends’ arms.

The group of men holding him let out a synchronized sigh.  

“That was horrifying,” Mark was the first one to speak, sitting on a chair nearby and wincing in pain.

“Jungwoo, please take Mark to a healer,” Doyoung requested. “Johnny, Jaehyun! Help me take Taeyong home.”

“Sure, I think I could use a visit to the healer myself,” Jungwoo said, limping slightly while walking out with Mark. 

“I had never seen him this…feral,” Jaehyun said.

“He does get a bit too brutal during his rut, but this was…,” Johnny trailed off, not sure of how to finish that sentence. “If Mark hadn’t been here, that girl…”

“The girl!” Doyoung quickly turned around to check on you but you were nowhere to be found. “I guess she ran away…”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t?” Jaehyun asked rethorically, as they all carried their leader to the car. 

“I doubt she’ll want to see Taeyong after this,” Johnny said.

“She’ll understand once we explain it to her,” Doyoung assured them.

“If we manage to find her again,” Jaehyun murmured.

You had been holding your breath until you heard them leave, hiding behind the abandoned counter. 

“Thank god it’s over!” a relieved voice exclaimed next to you, making you jump and yelp. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not dangerous! I was hiding here too! This is my coffee shop,” the man quickly explained. “My name is Taeil.”

“Oh– I’m Y/N…” you mumbled. “Sorry for the mess…”

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry. I’ll have a word with the pups later.”

“Pups?”

“Werewolves,” he said, grabbing a couple of cups from the shelf.

“Oh…OH! They said something about an alpha,” you remembered, trying to make sense of the whole situation. “So he wasn’t a vampire after all. He must have been close to his rut.”

“Yeah…you could say that,” the man partially agreed, offering you a cup of coffee. “On the house. This is embarrassing to admit but I’m a member of the pack who caused all this...”

“You’re a werewolf too?” you asked incredulously and let him guide you to a table that hadn’t been destroyed. “Then why were you hiding?”

“It was scary,” he shrugged and sat down across the table.

You let out an incredulous laugh and took a sip of your coffee. This guy was being serious but somehow he made everything sound hilarious. 

“Something’s different about you,” he suddenly said, observing you carefully. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I’m not,” you replied. “I’m here for business. I’m writing a book about some creatures that live here.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Something like that, yes,” you admitted, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s why I came. I’m hoping to rent a place near the forest to observe the faes.”

“Faes?” Taeil’s lips turned downwards. “Those are a bit too dangerous, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“There are so many other creatures to write about,”  he insisted.

“I’m really interested in faes,” you said. “And there isn’t quite enough literature about them, so I thought I should talk to them in person to understand them better.”

“Talk to them?” he repeated incredulously. “You definitely shouldn’t do that…”

“I heard I can find some in the East Forest,” you pressed, ignoring his apprehension. “Is that true?”

“...It is,” he conceded. “But there aren’t any places to rent in there,” he quickly added.

“I’ll just camp in the woods,” you shrugged.

The man choked on his coffee and coughed loudly. “CAMP?” 

“Just until I finish my book.”

“Oh my god,” he shook his head. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you replied without hesitation and finished your drink, ready to leave. “Thanks for the coffee, Taeil!”

“I HAVE A HOUSE FOR RENT! ” He blurted out in panic when he saw you standing up.

You raised your eyebrows. “You said there was no place available near the forest.”

“Technically, there isn’t…,” he sighed, brushing his hair with his fingers. “They don’t build homes near the forest because of the faes… but I own a little hut, not too deep into the woods, which I was using to store some stuff…”

“For real?” you asked excitedly. 

He nodded, taking out his phone and showing you some pictures of the place. It was a small, lovely, wooden hut surrounded by trees. 

“It’s not furnished, but I could get it ready for you in about a week,” the kind werewolf offered because he clearly didn’t want you to camp in the forest. “But you would have to promise me to stay inside the house at night.”

“Why?”

“Faes become… restless when the sun goes down. If you really need to talk to one of them, do it during the day.” 

You nodded and took mental note of an interesting new fact about faes. Then you asked a few more questions about the house, which he replied to, along with giving you some extra safety tips before offering you to rent the place for an incredibly low price. 

“Thank you so much!” you exclaimed happily, forgetting about what had happened earlier with the Taeyong, thrilled at the idea of moving to such a nice place, for cheap and meeting some of your favorite magical creatures. 

“No problem,” he said, handing you back your phone where he had added his contact information for you two to seal the deal later. “No one’s staying there at the moment, so it’s not an issue,” he added, walking you to the door and bidding you goodbye.

You thanked him again and happily walked back to the motel you were currently staying in. 

“Where were you?!” Johnny asked Taeil when he arrived home. “It’s your own cafe. How did you just disappear?”

“I was hiding behind the counter,” Taeil admitted shamelessly.

“Wow, thanks a lot, hyung” Mark said sarcastically from the sofa, holding a cold pack against his cheek.

“I’m not strong. I would have been useless anyway,” Taeil said. “I found Taeyong’s mate, by the way. Her name’s Y/N.”

“ Is she okay?” Doyoung asked, entering the living room. 

“She’s fine, it looks like she forgot about the whole incident already.”

“Do you know where to find her?” Jungwoo asked.

“Yes, well…about that…I need some help casting a protection spell on my old hut in the woods… because she’ll be living there,” Taeil trailed off as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bunch of herbs and salt. 

“WHAT?!” Doyoung hissed, following Taeil to the kitchen. “That area is infested with faes!”

“She has a thing for faes,” Taeil replied. “She was going to camp in the woods just to study them and write about it in her book.”

“Ah, so she’s a lunatic,” Jungwoo said.

“She’ll go to the forest no matter what, so I offered that hut because then we can at least know where she is and protect the place.”

“That’s actually smart,” Doyoung conceded and started looking for some herbs to help with the spell.

“We need to buy a bed and some other stuff because that house is empty right now,” Taeil added.

“Alright, to IKEA we go,” Jaehyun sighed and stood up. 

“I’ll go with you!” Jungwoo yelled happily.

“No,” Jaehyun groaned. “It takes you forever to choose what to buy.”

“And you have terrible taste in furniture,” Jungwoo replied. “Always buying the cheapest shit.”

“The bed can’t be cheap,” Johnny said. “Remember Taeyong can potentially spend his rut there. And you guys know how he gets.”

As if on cue, they heard a loud crash followed by the squeaking noise of the bed dragging back and forth on the floor mixed with guttural moans coming from the second floor.

“Looks like he’s awake…,” Mark mumbled, getting pale again, thinking that his leader would have his head after what happened at the coffee shop.

“Don’t worry. I secured his room with a spell,” Doyoung quickly assured him. “You’re safe.”

“I don’t know, I think I kinda wanna go to IKEA,” Mark said nervously.

“The more the merrier,” Jungwoo encouraged enthusiastically. 

The next few days were torture for Taeyong. He had a fever, his body ached and his erection wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times he came. He knew the reason: his wolf wouldn’t be satisfied until he claimed his mate. But his pack had put a spell around his room, making it impossible for him to leave, which made sense, because those were the instructions he had given them a long time ago in case he met his mate and couldn’t control himself. His pack had left enough snacks and drinks for him to survive for as long as his rut lasted, and he thankfully had his own private bathroom inside his room, but what he needed was his mate.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong approached the door and called for his friend. “Doyoung, open the door. I need out.”

No answer came from the other side of the door, but Taeyong wouldn’t give up. “I know you’re there. Just let me out. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“…I can’t do that,” Doyoung finally replied, and then he jumped when Taeyong banged on the door loudly.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” The leader yelled, before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Please. It hurts,” he pleaded.

“Taeyong…”

“I’ll be gentle,” Taeyong bargained. “I won’t hurt her. I just need to see her, please…”

“I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Doyoung agreed. “But this isn’t you.”

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke through gritted teeth. “Your alpha commands it.”

Doyoung inhaled sharply. Taeyong was using his alpha voice, which made his wolf ache to comply, but he knew if he let him out now, the leader would do something he would regret.

“My best friend is more important than my alpha. I won’t let you fuck this up for yourself. Get back to your senses and then you can see her,” he replied stoically. “Her name is Y/N, by the way,” he added before walking away.

“Y/N…” Taeyong sighed, leaning his head on the cool material of the door. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember your scent and the way you trembled in his arms like a scared bunny. Cute. His wolf loved it. “Oh…” he breathed out, pressing his lower body against the door, slowly humping the barrier that kept him from finding you. This would have to do until he caught you and had you shaking again.

 After a long night of sweating and cumming, he finally reached for one of the many bottles of water they had prepared for him. Three days later he gained enough clarity to eat something. Five days later his member would remain soft for a few hours a day, which allowed him to take a proper break. After a week he had successfully survived what he was sure was the worst rut of his life. He got up slowly, dizzy and sweaty, and took a look at his room: it was in ruins, with clothes and personal belongings scattered on the floor. His bed was disgusting, the bedsheets were sticky and wrinkled, his pillow had been torn apart, and its filling was everywhere. The door was marked with scratches that looked too deep and big to be human, which had to mean he had transformed at some point. If it hadn’t been for the spell, he would have easily broken the door and escaped. 

Taeyong started picking everything up and cleaning the place. Then he jumped into the shower and allowed the hot water to relieve his aching muscles and clear his mind. Slowly, memories of the scene he caused in the coffee shop popped up and he cringed. He had to apologize to so many people now. 

He got dressed in comfy clothes, dried his hair, and attempted to open the damaged door. This time he was able to get out easily, which meant that the spell was meant to last as long as he was in rut. 

Then he took a deep breath in and walked down the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. He heard his pack members laughing loudly over the sound of the TV, which meant it was movie night. It was a good thing that they were together, so he could properly apologize in front of everyone, but his anxiety grew and his eyes started watering as he got closer to his destination.

 He had made a scene and attacked his own pack. What type of leader loses control like that? He was so ashamed he turned back, ready to hide in his room again.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung’s calm voice called for him. Of course Doyoung would notice him before he had the chance to run away.

Taeyong whimpered and looked back, to where his pack was making space for him to sit. They had paused the movie and were looking at him, patiently waiting for him to join in. He bit his lip nervously and sat down. His eyes landed on Mark; he looked fine, but there was still a small bruise on his face as evidence of what he had done to him. Mark caught him staring and offered him a reassuring smile. Tears finally rolled down Taeyong’s cheeks.

“Mark, I–,” the leader sobbed and hid his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Mark said softly. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“You did him a favor,” Haechan added. “I think you fixed his nose.”

Taeyong snorted mid-sob at the unexpected joke and wiped his tears with the back of his hand, letting out a soft giggle.

“Everyone’s fine,” Jaehyun said, patting his leader’s back comfortingly. 

“Still, I should have controlled myself,” Taeyong mumbled.

“Pff…if you hadn’t controlled yourself, Mark wouldn’t be here,” Johnny said.

Mark laughed nervously. 

“And the place you destroyed was Taeil hyung’s shop, so no one cares,” Jungwoo said.

“Fuck you, guys,” Taeil said but he was laughing too. “No more free coffee for you.”

There was a pause when the laughter ended and Taeyong looked at Doyoung.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” he admitted apologetically.

“Oh, that? Your alpha voice isn’t as powerful as you think,” Doyoung shrugged smugly. “I think I’m the real leader of this pack.”

“Didn’t you have a panic attack right after you disobeyed him—“ Yuta tried to ask, but he was quickly interrupted.

“That’s not important now,” Ten interrupted, sitting closer to his leader. “You found your mate!”

Everyone cheered, making Taeyong blush and chuckle. He was overjoyed to finally meet the one he had been waiting for for so long…but then his anxiety came back.

“I don’t think I’m ready though,” he whispered.

“You are,” Doyoung rebutted.

“I almost bit her…”

“She’s fine,” Taeil said. 

 “You’ve helped many of us get together with our mate,” Jaemin agreed. “No one has prepared for this moment more than you.”

“But I didn’t know it would feel like this,” Taeyong said.

“Like what?” Kun asked.

“Like…like I’m some type of animal,” Taeyong groaned. “The things I wanna do to her I just–I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t—,” he paused and blushed. “...You know…”

“Oh, that’s normal,” Jeno assured him, laughing. 

“It is?” Taeyong asked, surprised. 

“Yeah!” Jeno insisted. “All of us who are mated have gone through that.”

“So it gets better later, right?” the leader asked hopefully.

“No,” a choir of voices replied. 

“But the bond works both ways,” Yuta added. “Soon she’ll be wanting you just as much as you want her.”

Taeyong’s face was hot. He wanted that. He wanted everything with you. “First I have to apologize to her.”

“Good thing we know where to find her,” Doyoung smiled.

Your new temporary home was more than you could ever wish for. It had a perfectly functioning bathroom and a kitchen. It was also fully furnished and excessively decorated in a way that made you think many people had been involved in the process because nothing matched. Your favorite thing was the little window in the kitchen which offered you a beautiful view of the forest while doing the dishes. You often opened the window to feel the breeze, smell the fresh grass and listen to the birds singing, and even if it was getting darker you could catch a glimpse of the stream and— were those eyes?!

You gasped and whoever was hiding far behind the bushes ducked down. They would have been successful if it wasn’t because of their pointy ears peeking out. 

You gasped again, this time out of excitement, and rushed out to meet your visitor. They had to be a fae!

Once you stepped out of the house, and stood near the entrance, waving at the creature, who was still hiding shyly behind the bushes.

“Hi,” you greeted them softly. “It’s okay! I won’t hurt you.”

The fae shifted enough for you to see their beautiful features, they seemed to be a male, with silky dark hair and pale skin. He looked at your house and tilted his head.

“I live here,” you continued talking, pointing at the wooden hut. “Do you live in the forest?” 

He gave you a short nod without taking his eyes off of you. Despite his lethargic expression, he seemed curious.

“My name’s Y/N,” you introduced yourself. You had this habit of talking non-stop when you were excited or nervous. “What’s your name?”

The fae’s plump lips twisted into a little smile. “Soobin.”

“Nice to meet you, Soobin! I guess we’re neighbors,” you smiled at him.

 “Sweet,” he whispered.

“Hm?” you asked.

“Smells sweet,” he said this time loud enough to hear, and he stood up, revealing he was way taller than what you expected. He was dressed in a pair of loose pants and a crochet open shirt that didn’t quite cover his lean torso and eclectic necklaces and pendants adorned his neck.

“Oh, that’s probably the pie I baked,” you replied. “Do you want some?”

The man licked his lips and took a step toward you, but then he tensed and glared at a spot on the ground in front of him. “I cannot get closer,” he muttered. 

You stared at the ground too, looking for whatever he was looking at, but you couldn’t see anything. Maybe he just didn’t trust you enough to get closer. 

“Let me bring you a piece, then,” you offered, running back into the kitchen and placing a big piece of fresh pie on a plate. Then you went out to see him waiting for you in the same spot, still glaring at the ground.

You tried to keep your distance while offering him the plate, not wanting to scare him. 

“Closer,” he whispered.

You took a step towards him, but contradictorily he took a step back.

“...May I come closer?” you asked confusedly. 

He nodded and looked at your feet.

You took a hesitant step towards him and he took another step back. It made no sense, but he was smiling now, so you guessed this was what he wanted. 

“Is this okay?” you asked, taking another step.

“Yes,” he chuckled, taking another step back. It seemed to be some type of game for faes. Whatever it was, he looked like he was having fun.

You couldn’t help but laugh too as you took another step, even without understanding the nature of the game. “Closer?”

“Closer,” he agreed. 

You took another step, but he didn’t step back this time. He moved his hands towards you and instead of picking the plate, he grabbed your arms.

 At that moment a growl echoed in the before peaceful forest, catching you by surprise. Soobin looked as confused as you, with his widened eyes scanning the already dark trees around you. He then turned around slightly, while still holding you and you saw it: a big grey wolf lurking behind Soobin, bearing his teeth threateningly. 

“Alpha,” Soobin acknowledged the wolf with a nod.

The animal’s red eyes glared at the fae, trying to communicate something that you couldn’t catch. But Soobin seemed to understand the message.

 “It is past dusk,” the fae said in a defensive tone, never letting go of you. “It is allowed.”

The wolf let out an aggressive snarl, and even you understood that they did not like whatever Soobin was implying.

The fae sighed and he hesitantly let go of your arms. “I do not wish to fight you, alpha. But let it be the last time. Rules are rules.”

“What’s going on?” you asked Soobin, still frozen in your place. 

“Alpha is not happy to see me,” the fae replied simply and took the plate from your hands. “Thank you for the pie,” he added, looking between you to the wolf one last time and walking away with a smile. 

“C-come back anytime!” you offered as you saw him leave. That was not how you expected your first encounter with a fae to go. He seemed to be sweet and willing to be your friend. You had so much you wanted to ask, but then this wolf had to scare him away. Soobin had called him alpha and you knew there was only one pack of werewolves in town. You had met the pack’s alpha before…

“Taeyong,” you turned to look at the wolf angrily. 

The wolf’s ears lowered and he winced. You knew it was him?

“Shift and come in. We need to talk,” you said before stomping back into the house, leaving the door open behind you.

A minute after the man you had met at the coffee shop a week ago and who had almost given you a heart attack stood at your door, fixing his clothes nervously. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw his human form. You remembered him being good-looking, but his beauty was surreal. You had to remind yourself you were mad at him.

“Get in and close the door already” you commanded. “It’s getting cold.”

The man hesitated momentarily before finally stepping inside the house and closing the door behind him, but he stayed as far away from you as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

God, why was he so cute?

“You should be,” you replied, setting a couple of plates on the table

“I lost control. I know it’s not an excuse, but–”

“Damn right it isn’t, you scared poor Soobin!”

“I–What?” he asked.

“He was opening up and now I don’t know if he’ll ever come back!” you replied, letting out a frustrated sigh as you searched for cups in the cabinet.

“...That’s what’s bothering you?” he asked.

“Yes! I need to interview a fae!”

“...You were trying to interview him,” he repeated slowly. 

“That’s right, and you interrupted us just when he allowed me to get closer,” you groaned, sitting in one of the chairs and pouring some tea into your cup. “Take a seat,” you told Taeyong. 

You may be mad, but you were still a good host. Taeyong was family to Taeil, and Taeil had been good to you, so you would be good to Taeyong and at least feed him while telling him off.

He bit his lip and sat down on the chair across from you. “I think you got it wrong. He didn’t allow you to get closer, he took you out of the protection circle on purpose.”

“The what?” you asked, biting on a piece of pie.

“The protection circle around this house,” he said as if it was obvious. “Can’t you feel it?”

You swallowed the pastry and looked around, trying to see if there was anything off with the house besides the odd decoration. “Feel what?”

Taeyong tilted his head. Anyone with a tiny bit of magic in their body would be able to notice the house was under a spell. 

Oh…

“You’re not a witch…” he gasped. Taeil said he had sensed something different about your aura but that he wasn’t sure what it was. This had to be it.

“I’m not,” you agreed. 

The color drained from Taeyong’s face. 

“Then what are you doing here?! It’s dangerous!” he whisper-shouted, looking around like he was afraid anyone would hear. 

“I’m writing a book,” you replied.

“About faes?!” he asked. “No, no, no, please. Do you even know what faes do to humans?!”

“...No,” you admitted. “Do you?”

“No! No one knows! They take them away. Make them disappear. That’s why this area is not accessible for tourists and even magic users stay away after sunset!” Taeyong let out a frustrated groan and placed one of his palms on his chest, trying to calm his beating heart. “Didn’t Taeil tell you to go out only during daylight?”

“He did,” you remembered. “But I thought he was overreacting.”

Taeyong could cry because of how stressed he was. Not only did his mate turn out to be human, but she was also clueless and living in an enchanted forest like it was nothing.

He took a deep breath in and tried his best to explain everything calmly. “Faes have been here for centuries, so this land belongs to them. We have no power to tell them what to do, but they at least agreed to make a deal with us and not hunt during the day.”

“...Soobin was…hunting?” you asked after a few seconds of silence. 

Taeyong nodded.

“He was going to take me away…” you whispered, staring blankly at your plate. You weren’t that hungry anymore. How could someone who looked so sweet and innocent be hunting humans? 

“Yes,�� the Werewolf grunted. He hated how easily you had followed Soobin out of the protection circle. He hated the way he had touched your arm. He hated thinking about the possibility of you being gone who knows where. You were too careless for a fragile human. 

You both sat there without saying a word until you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he replied softly. “But please don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” you replied. “Sorry…”

“I should be the one to apologize. That’s why I came here today,” he murmured. “The way I behaved at the coffee shop was not okay.”

“...Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering the event. “Well, that was an accident, right?”

“Uh…yes…” he said, sipping on his cup of tea.

“I guess your ruts are irregular,” you hummed.

“My r–,” he blushed and choked. You had thought about him in rut? 

“Do you take suppressants?” you asked casually, not noticing that he was mortified.

“Y-yes.”

“Hmm… That’s odd,” you commented. “Then you shouldn’t have entered your rut so fast and out of nowhere. Did someone trigger it?”

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes were wide and glossy, as he stared at you in silence. He tried to think of something to say, but he didn’t want to lie to you nor did he want to scare you. 

You had studied supernatural creatures before, so you were able to put two and two together. 

“...It was me, huh?” you asked.

Oh, well. He was fucked. 

“H-how did you know?” he asked in the smallest voice you had heard, looking away.

You hummed.

“You went straight for my neck, so at first I thought you were a vampire, but you turned out to be a werewolf. I can only think of one reason why you would want to bite my neck.”

Taeyong gulped. He was shaking with anxiety. You probably found him disgusting.

“I’m s-sorry…” he whimpered with difficulty because of the way his breathing had quickened.

“Hey, calm down. Breathe,” you instructed.

“I’ve w-waited for so long I…I didn’t mean to– I just couldn’t-...” 

“Taeyong,” you called his name firmly and held his trembling hands in yours, making him gasp. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control it.”

He was still too terrified to look into your eyes. “I don’t w-want to force you–”

“I know,” you assured him.

“I just w-wanted to get to know you…”

“We can do that,” you conceded.

“...Really?” he finally looked up and his eyes lightened up with hope.

“Really,” you replied. “It’s the least I can do for someone who saved me from being abducted by faes,” you joked, but he didn’t find it funny.

“That’s not why I did it! You don’t owe me anything–”

“I know,” you chuckled. “That’s not the only reason. I also think you’re cute.”

You had broken him. His face was as red as the cherries that adorned the forgotten pie and he was struggling to hold back a shy smile. He sighed, relieved, and now it was his turn to hold your hands in his, bringing them to his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sighed. “I’ll do it right, I’ll treat you well, I’ll court you the way you deserve.”

You giggled. “Court me? How about you give me your number first?”

And that’s how you started dating the kindest man you had ever met. He was a walking green flag, gentle, respectful, and patient… Sometimes too patient. 

He insisted on taking things slow, and it took him almost two months of courting before he agreed to officially call himself your boyfriend, because, according to him, he hadn’t earned it yet. 

You didn’t want to be ungrateful but there were times when his chivalry frustrated you. Yes, he treated you like a queen, took care of you, and listened to you but sometimes you wished he actually kissed you instead of quickly pecking your lips and pulling away. 

You enjoyed his company as it was, but you couldn’t deny the burning desire that consumed you whenever he was near you. 

“Taeyong,” you called his name after you finished cleaning up the table. 

“Yeah?” he replied absentmindedly while washing the dishes.

“Can we make out?” you asked straight to the point.

He almost dropped the plate he was holding. His whole body tensed and he continued staring at the running water. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself. He had heard you perfectly.

“Is that a no?” you asked, taking a few steps closer.

Taeyong closed the water tap and turned around to face you, leaning against the sink.

“Of course, we can, my love,” he said, offering you a smile that somehow seemed a little forced. 

Before he had the chance to take it back you pressed your lips against his. He kissed you back softly, but as usual, he pulled away quickly. 

“That’s not making out,” you pouted.

“Let’s take things slow,Y/N,” Taeyong said, ready to resume his domestic task, but you were tired and frustrated, so you grabbed him by the nape and kissed him hard. 

He gasped in surprise but he had been controlling himself for too long, and his wolf was not going to waste this chance. He gave you an open-mouthed kiss that felt too urgent for someone who wanted to take things slow, and when you sucked on his tongue he moaned loudly, finally daring to use his hands on you. 

His still-wet fingers tangled in your hair and angled your head for his lips to fit yours perfectly, allowing his tongue to play with yours quite aggressively. 

A shiver ran down your spine when he switched positions to have you pressed against the sink, and you let your hands travel down his torso.

That’s when he detached himself from you abruptly. 

“Was that better?” he asked as evenly as he could with his chest rising and falling erratically.

“Yeah…” you breathed out.

He nodded.“Go rest, love.I’ll finish cleaning.”

For him, that had been the closest he had been to losing his sanity. He had to lock himself up as soon as he got back home due to another unscheduled rut–which was happening more frequently the closer he got to you– and he couldn’t stop thinking about how good you tasted and how easily he could manhandle your fragile body. 

He  had opened Pandora’s box. Now he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you every chance he got. 

‘Just a kiss,’ he kept telling himself. ‘I will stop before it gets serious.’

But God, was it hard when he had you all pretty on his lap, with your breasts pressed against his pecs and driving him crazy.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips. 

“Hm?” you murmured, kissing his jaw and neck slowly.

He tilted his head back and rested it on the sofa when your lips brushed a spot where you could feel his strong pulse. 

“Oh… Y-Y/N,” It was like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite remember what. Especially when you rolled your hips against his like that. So he just whined. 

“What is it, baby?” you asked, dropping more of your weight on his lap. 

His breath hitched and his eyes snapped open in your direction, a reddish tone replacing his usual eye color. His fingers dug into your hips as he pressed you against him harder, humming when he heard you moan faintly.

His lips chased yours and he wasted no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth. He kissed you fiercely and let out breathy moans while guiding your hips against his crotch insistently.

“Tae–...b-baby that feels…” you manage to breathe out as your hips shake in his hands.

“G-good?” he asked in the softest voice despite his lusty eyes and his hips thrusting against your core harshly. 

“So good, baby,” you gasped. “Can you g-give me more?”

“Anything,” he breathed out, eyes dazed, allowing his hands to travel your body. “Everything…”

“Good boy,” you praised him lovingly, reaching for the hem of his pants to free his painful erection.

“Mm…Ah,” he moaned softly as you palmed him over his boxers. When your thumb pressed against the head he let out an audible gasp. 

“Y/N, w-we have to stop,” he panted urgently, but his body said something different; one of his hands kept yours firmly pressed against his cock, while the other slid under your shirt, looking for your breasts. “Gotta…gotta s-stop…”

“Do you w-want to stop?” you asked him, whimpering when his fingers found one of your nipples, while his other hand guided yours up and down his cock.

He shook his head.

“Then why do we…ah! Why do we h-have to stop, b-baby?”

He stared at your lips dumbfounded, still moving your hand up and down, harder, faster. There was a reason why he had to stop. He had to. But why? He just couldn’t remember…

“I don’t know…,” he admitted.

 The hand that was caressing your breasts, slid down your stomach, drawing gentle patterns until it slid past the hem of your shorts. Your hips jumped slightly  and he breathed shakily when his fingers slid into your panties, immediately getting then soaked.

“B-baby…,” you breathed out when he slowly took his digits out and brought them to his mouth. 

He opened wide, sticking his tongue out , and then sucked on his fingers lewdly. 

Suddenly, his head rolled back, his back arched, and his body convulsed. He moaned around his fingers and a big wet patch formed on his boxers, right where he was holding your hand so desperately. 

You gasped at the sight of him cumming just because of your taste. “Oh my god…,” you murmured, pressing the palm of your hand against him harder and feeling his cock squirt another generous amount of cum while he trembled under you.

Once you thought it may be too much for him, you released his member and his body relaxed on the sofa. His mouth finally let go of his fingers, leaving behind a trail of saliva. He was panting and his wide eyes were fixed on the ceiling, trying to comprehend the pleasure he had felt. 

“Taeyong?” you called his name gently.

 It was like the sound of your voice brought him back to reality. Or maybe it drove him further into madness because he hugged your waist and pressed your crotches together urgently.

“Y-you too…” he begged, before kissing you messily, making an uncoordinated attempt to dry hump you.

You kissed him back, slowly moving against his still-hard member, but the pace didn’t quite satisfy him. He grabbed your hips harshly and moved your body insistently back and forth.

“Ah, right t-there,” you encouraged him, letting him set the pace. 

He hissed. The chaff of your clothed clit on his sensitive tip was pleasurably painful and your moans mixed with your aroused scent had him forgetting about all the possible downsides of letting his wolf loose. It felt too good.

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, shaking on his lap. “B-baby— Oooh!”

“Yeah…” he moaned, pulling you into a suffocating hug and giving your neck wet, sloppy kisses. 

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling weak and dizzy, but incredibly happy. You had wanted to feel Taeyong close to you since you had started dating and now it was finally happening. You sighed and looked down at your boyfriend who was still clinging to you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Then you felt liquid dripping down your chest.

“Tae—,” you laughed, thinking it was saliva and whipping it off with your hand but your smile dropped when you saw your fingers tainted red. “What…”

Did he bite you? You hadn’t felt anything at all. You could hear him panting, but you were sure his fangs were not on your skin. 

You quickly pushed him off you, pressing his back on the sofa and taking a look at him. He was pale, covered in sweat, displaying a lost expression and his mouth and chin were stained with fresh blood. 

Your hand flew to your neck, finding more of the red liquid, but the smooth texture of your skin proved you hadn’t been bitten. 

That blood wasn’t yours.

What he had bitten was his own hand.

The same he had earlier used to touch your folds and taste you was now covered in blood, displaying an injury in the shape of a crescent moon.

“Taeyong!” You screamed, forgetting all about the pleasure you had just felt and running to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you came back and started examining his wound he seemed more conscious.

“How did this happen?!” You asked him, carefully disinfecting the bite.

His beautiful eyes looked at you with sadness but no words came from his lips.

“Why did you do that?” you continued rambling on until you heard a quiet sob. “Taeyong?”

He looked away, but you had already seen the tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked gently, cupping his face on your palms and trying to make eye contact.

He placed his hands on top of yours gently, still weeping bitterly.

“Does it hurt that bad? Should we go to a healer?” You insisted, your worries increasing every second.

He let out a broken sob.

Broken-hearted you tried to hug him but he quickly stood up. “I have to go. I’ll c-call you later, okay?” 

“What? Taeyong, wait–” 

“I’ll ask Jaemin to heal me,” he said, trying to hold back his sniffles. 

“I’ll go with–”

“No, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “You’ll make it worse.”

“...I will make it worse?” you asked in a whisper.

“I–,” he let out a shaky sigh. “No, baby, I don’t mean it like that.”

You didn’t reply. What were you supposed to say after being told your presence would make your boyfriend feel worse?

His face told you he wasn’t happy with the way he had worded it either. He knew he had hurt you and he wanted nothing more but to comfort you, hug you, and kiss you stupid, but he needed to get away from you before his wolf took over.

“You did nothing wrong, my love,” he assured you. His words were gentle, but his body language was so distant. “I just need to be alone, right now, okay?”

You nodded. What else could you do?

And then you were left alone.

“You’re back already–Holy shit, hyung, are you okay?!” Xiaojun jumped out of the couch where he had been hanging out with Hendery when he saw his leader. 

“Fine,” Taeyong mumbled. 

“You’re bleeding!” Hendery yelled. 

“I just need–”

“TEN HYUNG!” Xiaojun screamed.

Ten came down the stairs running and gasped when he saw Taeyong’s hand covered in blood. “What happened to you?!”

“I need you to lock me up,” Taeyong mumbled tiredly.

“You need medical attention,” Ten replied, trying to pull him back to the door to take him to the hospital.

“There’s no time,” Taeyong groaned.

“Time for what?” Ten asked, but then he noticed the way his leader’s eye color kept changing and that the skin he had touched was burning up. “Wha—AGAIN?! You just got out of rut two weeks ago!”

“Lock me up,” the oldest repeated weakly, leaning against his pack member for support.

“Fuck,” Ten hissed, gesturing for the others to help him carry him up the stairs. “There’s no way this is healthy.”

“Hmm…” was the leader’s absentminded response before losing consciousness. 

If you had known what was happening, you would have just gone to sleep instead of waiting for the call that he said would come. He didn’t call you and he wasn’t responding to your texts

After two days you decided to look for answers somewhere else and visited Taeil’s cafe.

He received you with a warm smile, as usual. But you could sense some awkwardness when he asked that many trivial questions (even talking about the weather), as if he wanted to talk about anything but Taeyong.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you finally said.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he still gestured for you to go on. He knew he couldn’t avoid the topic forever.

“Have you seen Taeyong?”

“I have,” he said curtly.

“He’s not answering my calls. I didn’t think he would be the type to ghost someone, but here we are,” you laughed awkwardly.

Taeil let out a heavy sigh.

“He’s not ghosting you.”

“Yes, he is,” you said bitterly. “If he wanted to break up he could have just said so.”

“Y/N, I promise you he wants to be with you,” Taeil insisted.

“Then why is he ignoring me?”

“He’s in rut…”

“…Again?!”

He nodded. “Again.”

“This is happening way too often.”

“I know.”

“What about his suppressants?”

“They don’t work anymore.”

“There has to be something we can do!”

Taeil groaned. “We can’t force him.”

“Force him to what?”

“Just…ask him, okay?”

“When?! He’s always in rut and  disappearing!”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know this must be hard for you, but trust me, it’s hard for him too. He’s trying his best to be a good boyfriend for you.”

Part of you knew he was right. Even if it felt like he was ghosting you, deep down you knew that was not Taeyong. You agreed to wait until his rut was over and he contacted you, but you felt so lonely without a single text from him.

One day you thought you heard a noise outside so you ran out of the house, thinking Taeyong had came back, but there was no one there. The only thing that was new was an empty plate a few meters from you; the plate that Soobin had taken the day you met him. 

“Soobin?” you called nervously.

 You may still be a bit wary of him, but your editor still wanted you to write that book about faes. You had been researching at the local library and asking your boyfriend questions about the mysterious creatures but you knew that talking to one directly would be better.  The sun was still shining so talking to Soobin should be safe, right?

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” the fae’s calm voice replied as he came out from behind the tree where he was hiding. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said, trying not to show the fear in your voice.

“Are you, really?”  he asked.

“Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well, I’m a little scared,” you admitted. “But I’m still glad. I wanted to talk to you.”

“That’s interesting,” he purred, walking towards you and stopping right before the protection circle–which now was very visible to the human eye thanks to your boyfriend’s efforts– started. “I love a good conversation. What is it you want to talk about?”

“I’m a writer,” you said, sitting on the other side of the line that drew the circle. “I’m writing about faes and I was hoping to ask you some questions.”

“Ask,” he encouraged you, placing his elbows on his crossed legs and leaning forward, with his face resting on his hands. 

You gulped, deciding to go straight to the point. “Do you hunt humans?”

He smiled in a way that would have been sweet in a different setting but now was giving you chills, and not in a good way. “I do.”

“Why?”

“For different reasons. It depends on the human,” he shrugged.

“Do you…,” you shifted uncomfortably. “Do you eat them?”

He laughed out loud. It was the first time you saw him express himself so openly. “Your kind is not as nutritious as you think you are. Not with all that coffee and fat that you consume.”

You gasped, a bit offended. “Are you calling me fat?!”

He laughed harder. “Are you offended I don’t want to eat you?”

“N-no, but…”

“We did eat humans in the past. But we know better now. Eating you won’t bring me any benefit.”

You sighed in relief. “Then what were you planning to do to me? The day you took me out of the protection circle…”

He tilted his head. “I was not going to eat you…but I wanted a taste.”

“A t-taste?” you repeated.

“Mhm…You carry a very sweet smell. I was wondering if you taste like you smell.” 

You didn’t want to be dirty-minded. He probably didn’t mean it like that.

“Y-you mean in a cannibal type of way or—”

“A sexual way,” he deadpanned. 

“O-oh…” you mumbled awkwardly. “So uh…faes do s-stuff like that with other species?” 

“Not often. I haven’t fucked a human in centuries,” the way he stressed the word fuck made you blush. You knew that faes preferred to speak eloquently, but he had deliberately chosen a word used by humans.

“Isn’t it better to do those things with y-your kind?” you asked.

“You see, faes can gain vitality from emotions we elicit from others.  And, compared to faes, humans are so, so deliciously sensitive, meaning your emotions would be more intense than those I could possibly get from one of my own kind,” he said, eyeing you up. “If I feed on your pleasure I’m sure I’ll become even stronger.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Aren’t there other ways to be stronger?”

“There are,” he conceded. “But don’t you think this way is more fun for both of us?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline,” you said firmly. “I’m seeing someone.”

He looked at you dumbfounded for a second, expecting an explanation as to why that was relevant and then his eyes widened. “Ooh…are humans still monogamous?” 

“Uh…I am,” you replied.

“How disappointing,” he sighed. “Is it alpha?”

“Yeah…” 

“Hm…Congratulations…”

“Thanks…”

“You don’t sound that excited,” he teased. 

“I’m just a little tired,” you lied. “But thanks for answering my questions today. You were very helpful,” you said, reaching for the empty plate Soobin had left on the grass, when you felt his hand grabbing your wrist firmly.

You froze.

How could he touch you when you were still inside the circle?!

Oh shit.

The plate was outside of the circle.

And now so was your hand.

“Not so fast,” he warned you. “What do I get in return for all that valuable information?”

You had been fooled by the fae once again. How could you be so careless?

“Soobin, please,” you pleaded. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” he asked, tugging your wrist towards him playfully and almost making you lose your balance and exit the circle. 

“Please, there has to be something else I can give you,” you bargained desperately. 

He chuckled and finally let you go, making you fall on your butt. “Y/N, the sun hasn’t set yet. I can’t do anything to you. I was just playing.”

“That wasn’t funny!” you fumed. 

“But I would still like to propose a deal,” he said casually.

“Forget it,” you said, standing up, ready to go back inside the house. 

“Don’t you have an entire book to write about me?” he asked.

You looked at him suspiciously. 

“I can provide all the information you need,” he continued. “For a price.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you snapped at him.

“As delectable as that would be, that’s not the only way you can pay me. During this conversation, I absorbed a variety of emotions coming from you. They may not be as powerful as pleasure, but they satisfy me for now.”

“You were feeding on me the entire time?!” you accused him incredulously.

He shrugged. “Isn’t it convenient? I give you what you want, and you pay me back without even noticing.”

Well, he had a point. He wasn’t even hurting you. All you had to do was your job and he would take what he needs without disturbing you.

“Deal,” you said. “Come back tomorrow at the same time. No funny business.”

He smiled and gave you a short nod before you walked into the house.

“If alpha doesn’t satisfy you, the offer still stands!” you heard him say before you slammed the door shut.

True to his word, Soobin showed up the next day and the day after that. Separated by the protection circle, you had long conversations in which he answered your questions regarding faes while sneakily asking about your life. You often prepared tea and snacks for him, and while he enjoyed some of them, he did not hesitate to let you know when something wasn’t tasty. So far, the snacks he liked the most were whichever you prepared using fresh fruit, so it wasn’t surprising to find a handmade basket full of fresh berries on the spot where he usually sat. He said it was a gift, but you knew it was his way of asking you to bake something for him. 

You were kneading dough when Taeyong showed up at your place, looking exhausted. He kissed your forehead and hugged you softly, apologising a thousand times.

“I’m so sorry for leaving like that,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going into rut?” you asked him, hugging him back. You weren’t accusing him of anything, but you needed to understand him.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course I worry! How many times has it been since we started dating?”

“I got it under control, Y/N. My pack knows how to keep me locked away.”

“Baby, you shouldn’t have to...”

“I have no choice, love.”

“You have me,” you reminded him.

He gulped, pulling away from the hug. “I would never force this on you–”

“You’re not forcing me. I’m offering.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he warned.

“I do!” you said. “Your wolf should calm down after you claim me–”

Taeyong groaned, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t say stuff like that…”

“Taeyong, I can take it,” you insisted. “I knew what I was getting myself into when we started dating. I want to do this with you–”

“No,” he said harshly.

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous, Y/N.”

“I trust you–”

“I don’t trust myself!” he confessed. “I’m not myself when in rut. An alpha wanting to mate is not someone you can reason with. I wouldn’t stop even if you begged. Don’t you understand?! I’m not human!”

You looked at him with wide eyes. He had always been human to you–an equal. You couldn’t understand his fear, but it was obviously something that tormented him. 

“I don’t wanna argue, Y/N,” he said weakly. “I missed you so much…Can we not talk about this right now?”

You nodded, leading him to the sofa, where you lay down in each other’s arms in silence until he fell asleep. He probably didn’t sleep well the past week; he looked tired and thinner than before. That was the last bit of physical contact you had with your boyfriend; after that, he avoided every touch. It was torture, but he knew if he touched you he would kiss you like he was dying to, and then another rut would probably be triggered, which meant he would have to be away from you again. 

You tried to be understanding, even if it hurt to see him pull away like he was repelled by you. At least his words were still very loving and assuring, but you missed his touch.

Soobin noticed you sulking during one of your scheduled interviews. 

“You’re not even listening,” he said suddenly.

“I’m sorry!” you said quickly, snapping out of it. “I was thinking about something else. 

“That’s annoying,” he sighed. “Humans normally can’t think of anything else when in the presence of a fae.”

“I guess I got used to your presence by now,” you shrugged. 

He glared at you. He was in a bad mood because he couldn’t feed on your emotions unless he was the one causing them. Right now you were sad, but it was because of someone else so he didn’t get to absorb it. He had you right in front of him and he couldn’t get anything from you.

Unless…

“I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t been marked,” he said casually, looking at your neck. “Did alpha find another partner?”

You scoffed. “Our relationship is going well, thank you for asking.”

‘Yes,’ he thought. ‘Anger.’ He would take what he could get.

“It’s strange,” he continued. “Normally werewolves claim their partners as soon as they can.”

“He wants to take things slow,” you defended him.

“Hm… I guess he doesn’t need to mark you to please you,” he conceded.

You bit your lip an that told him all he needed to know.

“Oh? Alpha rejected sex with you?” he asked in a condescendent tone.

“I told you we’re taking it slow…”

“You’re telling me one of the most libidinous creatures–a half animal– refuses to copulate?”

Your face was red because of shame and anger. “Don’t talk about him like he’s just some animal.”

“I’m not looking down on him, Y/N. I genuinely find it unbelievable. I don’t see why he would hurt himself like that.”

That caught your attention, and your anger switched to worry. “Hurt himself?”

Soobin nodded. “If he imprinted on you, denying himself the pleasure of having you should hurt him physically. He shouldn’t be able to control himself.”

“Are you saying I’m not his real mate?” you asked in a small voice.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then he shook his head. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m certain he imprinted on you. There has to be another reason why he rejects your body.”

“Like what?” you asked urgently. All your anger was long forgotten. Now you wanted answers.

The fae licked his lips. “I can’t think of a reason not to want to fuck you, Y/N. I’m still hoping you  accidentally step out of the circle at night.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up, Soobin.”

“But…” he said tentatively.

“But?” you repeated.

“If it hurts him not to have sex, and he still chooses not to, it could be that maybe…”

“Maybe what?!”

“...He’s not attracted to you.”

Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t even considered that possibility. You knew werewolves imprinted for life and that they would be loyal to their partner no matter what, but now that you thought about it, they couldn’t choose who they imprinted on. What if you were not his type but he was stuck with you? What if he was trying his best to be a good mate, but he genuinely did not want to sleep with you?

“...You think he’s not attracted to me?” you repeated.

“No. I’m saying that could be a possible reason for someone not to want to lie with their partner.”

You nodded. It was only a possibility. It wasn’t necessarily true, right?

But the more you thought about it the more it made sense. What if the reason he pulled away every time wasn’t to protect you, but because you disgusted him?

Seeing you like that, Soobin felt guilty. He wanted to make you feel something and feed on it, yes, but maybe he had taken it a bit too far. ”I’m sorry, please forget what I said”

“Okay,” you said absentmindedly, picking on the blueberries he had brought you today. 

He grabbed your hand, which once again had incautiously crossed the shield around the house. This time you were too sad to be scared.

“You’re attractive, Y/N.”.

“Thanks…,” your emotionless voice replied.

“I mean it.”

“Right,” you said, not believing him and attempting to stand up.

“Wait!,” was the last thing he said before he hastily pulled your hand and took your entire body out of the protection circle. 

You landed on top of him, spilling the berries all over the grass, and just when you were about to demand an explanation you heard a hoarse familiar voice.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Taeyong commanded. His tone was scarily calm. 

You quickly stood up and so did Soobin.

“Taeyong–” 

“Get back into the circle, Y/N,” he demanded, making his way towards Soobin.

“We were just talking,” you insist but your boyfriend had already grabbed the fae by his necklaces and pulled him closer threateningly. 

“Didn’t seem like it,” he growled, staring down at Soobin’s calm expression. He had arrived right in time to see the fae pull you towards him and his blood was boiling.

“Let him go!” you pleaded, trying to separate them. 

“Get the fuck back inside the circle!” he yelled at you. “Don’t you see how dark it is already?!”

You finally noticed that it was indeed late. You had been talking for so long that you didn’t pay attention to the sunset and the fact that it was the time for faes to hunt.

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you insisted.

“You don’t know that,” Taeyong disagreed.

“Soobin, tell him!” you begged the fae, who had been quiet the entire time.

“I do not intend to cause her pain,” Soobin finally said, causing Taeyong’s hold to loosen up a bit as he knew faes did not tell lies. “But my intentions are not pure either.”

You opened and closed your mouth dumbly. Did he have a death wish?! Why would he admit that?

“...What do you mean?” Taeyong hissed.

Soobin’s lips twisted into a lazy smile. “You know exactly what I mean, alpha.”

The werewolf lost it, and slammed the fae against a tree. Soobin didn’t even try to defend himself, nor did he show any sign of pain. He just stared at the furious man back.

“NO! STOP!” you yelled. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near her again,” Taeyong grunted. “Do you understand?”

“But she has a book to write,” Soobin replied arrogantly. 

“TAEYONG!” you screamed, hugging your boyfriend from behind before he had the chance to throw a punch. “Baby, please, let him go. Please.”

Taeyong glared at the Soobin furiously. He was nowhere near done, but he could feel your arms shaking around him. He would not be the cause for your distress. Hesitantly, he let go of Soobin. “Get lost.”

Soobin wasn’t done either, but because of how scared you were, he decided to stop for now. Without another word he walked away. 

For a minute, you and Taeyong stood where they were in silence until he sighed and grabbed your arm, walking back into the safety of the protection spell. You were about to enter tne house when he stopped.

“It’s not the first time, is it?” he asked seriously. “I could smell him on you before, but I thought I was imagining things.”

“He comes here often,” you admitted, feeling Taeyong’s grip on your arm tighten. “But we are always separated by the spell.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was bothering you?”

“He’s not bothering me,” you mumbled. 

Taeyong looked confused…and nervous. “So you were willingly spending time with the fae prince?”

You shrugged awkwardly. “He’s been helping me with my book.”

“Faes don’t do anything for free,” he said apprehensively. “You know that, right?”

“I do…”

“...Whad did he want in return?” 

Now he was alarmed. What had Soobin done to you?!

“He’s been feeding on my emotions,” you admitted. It sounded more intimate and shameful now that you had said it out loud.

“...What?! Y/N why–...what were you thinking?!”

“Taeyong, he didn’t hurt me. Other thatn that, all he did was talk to me and bring me fruit,” you groaned, tiredly.

He stared at you in disbelief. “…All those baskets of fruit in the kitchen are his doing?!”

“What, you think it’s poisoned or something?” You asked sarcastically.

“Fruit has a sexual innuendo for faes,” Taeyong deadpanned. “They exchange them and eat them together during the courting stage.”

Your jaw dropped and your confidence left your body. 

“He left out that detail, huh?” Your boyfriend asked rhetorically.

“I…I told him I wasn’t interested,” you said.

“Yet you accepted his courting gifts and let him absorb your emotional energy.”

“Are you jealous?” You scoffed for a lack of a better comeback.

“Yes! Jealous and furious at your naivety!”

“I know what I’m doing, okay?” you said defensively.

“No, you have no idea what you’ve been doing ever since you came to this town!” he exclaimed. “You came to live into the forest having no magical abilities, without even knowing about protection spells, let a fae court you without telling me, and even let him feed on you like it’s no big deal?!”

“Would you have preferred I fucked him as payment?!” you blurted out. 

Taeyong’s eyes widened.

Oh no.

“That’s what he originally asked from you, huh?” Taeyong scoffed. 

“It’s fine, I rejected him–”

“It’s not fine, Y/N, what the fuck?! He could have taken you regardless!”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know him!” he roared. “You don’t know how men think! I could smell his desire for you, Y/N, goddammit!”

“Good to know someone desires me…,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes and trying to walk past him and into the house, but he pulled you back towards him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“At least he’s not disgusted by me.” 

“What are you even talking about?!” he growled, starting to lose his patience.

“Oh, please! It’s obvious! You’re not attracted to me, Taeyong!”

Taeyong shook his head and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?!”

“You hate it when I touch you. You pull away when I kiss you. Honestly, Taeyong, why are we even together?”

“You can’t be serious right now,” he chuckled bitterly. “All this because I haven’t dicked you down?”

“Fuck you,” you said, ready to end the discussion and get into the damn house but once again he yanked you back, this time kissing you forcefully.

You wished you had the will to push him away, or at least to remember you were mad at him, but his lips felt so warm and soft against yours and it had been so long you couldn’t even try to resist him. You let him take the lead, moaning at the way he basically fucked your mouth with his tongue while his hands travelled up and down your body. 

You gasped when he pulled up your shirt swiftly and the cold breeze caressed your stomach. It reminded you you still hadn’t gone into the house.

“B-baby, shouldn’t we go inside?” you asked.

“Why?” he asked nonchalantly before pulling the shirt even higher, along with your bra. “Like you weren’t about to let the fae prince take you against a tree,” he said sharply and attached his mouth to one of your nipples.

You moaned and threw your head back. “I-I wasn’t going to–”

“I would have killed him,” he said between wet kisses placed on your chest, licking up to your neck. “I would have started a damn war and put the entire town in danger. But you don’t care about that, do you? You just wanted sex.”

“W-with you only–Ah!” you gasped when one of his hands slid inside your pants, cupping your center and patting it roughly.

“I’ll give it to you. Again and again,” he promised, nibbling on your ear. “But don’t say later I didn’t warn you.”

All of a sudden he turned you around so you were facing the forest and he was standing behind you. He held you in place by circling your waist with one hand while the other found its way into your underwear making you squirm nervously. 

“Oh! B-baby, wait–” you wanted to convince him that it was scandalous for him to finger you in such a compromising position where the whole forest could see. “The faes–Oooh!”

“I know, my love. I see them,” Taeyong chuckled by your ear, easing a finger into your entrance. 

“F-fuck!” you moaned. Unlinke Taeyong’s your human eyes could only see some trees in the dark of the night, but it was hunting hour, so you had no doubt someone was out there. Soobin probably hadn’t gone too far. He could be watching this lewd spectacle right now. “It’s so embarrassing…Nngh!”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t be embarrassed,” he panted between messy licks on your neck. He slid a second finger inside of you and curled them in just the right angle to have your vision go blurry and your toes curl. “Soobin wanted to see you cum, so we’re going to show him, yeah?”

You shook your head, but you could feel yourself getting close to your climax. “Taey-aah…Baby I’m s-so sorry, p-please–Ah!”

“If you’re sorry you’re going to cum on my fingers for the entire forest to see,” he dared you, pumping into you faster and pressing his palm against your clit. 

“Taeyong!” you moaned, tilting your head back and resting it on his shoulder as he fingered you furiously with one hand and bounced your tits with the other.

“Come on, come on, Y/N, cum, cum, fucking cum!” he demanded darkly before sinking his fangs into your skin and pressing your G-spot harder. 

For a second you couldn’t breathe. Your body felt light and tingly and the only thing you could focus on was your boyfriend’s raspy voice as he complimented you.

“That’s my mate,” Taeyong cooed, licking the fresh mark on your neck and finally  taking his hand out of your underwear. “From now on only I can make you cum, mmkay?”

You nodded dumbly and allowed your legs to give out, landing on your knees on the grass. That had been so intense you were still coming to terms with the fact that you had had an orgasm in public and, potentially been seen by Soobin. 

More importantly, you had been marked as Taeyong’s, meaning he did want you after all.

Before you had time to celebrate you felt a sharp pain on the back of your head as Taeyong pulled your hair to make you look up. 

The first thing you saw was his massive hard cock as he jerked it slowly, and if you looked a bit higher you could see his red eyes staring back into yours. 

“Suck,” he commanded, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth. 

You didn’t hesitate. You were salivating the moment you saw it and you wanted nothing more but to have it in your mouth, completely forgetting all decorum and the fact that you were still pretty much out in the open. You parted your lips and licked the precum leaking from his tip, making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.

“I said suck, not lick,” he grunted, pushing the tip past your lips and shuddering at the warmth. “Mmm…yes.”

You sucked on the tip enthusiastically, hollowing your cheeks occasionally to hear him curse, and then taking him deeper…or at least trying to, because even though you had heard about an alpha’s size, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

He was barely half way in when you gagged around the tip and a loud moan escaped him. “Ooooh…Oh, Y/N, fuck…”

You tried to get used to the feeling, but he wasn’t feeling patient today so he used his grip on your hair to angle your head in a position to fuck into your mouth comfortably, making you gag again.

“Come on, love, relax your throat,” he instructed, thrusting faster and trying to go deeper, but his size was too much for you. “What was The Moon thinking? Giving an alpha such a delicate human to breed? How will you t-take my knot?” he asked teasingly, but his words caused damage to himself, making his cock twitch at the thought of fucking you somewhere thighter and more wet than your mouth.

You moaned around him, struggling to breath as he kept assaulting your mouth. Luckily he took his member out, allowing you to gasp, desperate for air. 

“Almost there, love,” he grunted, using his cock to slap your cheek. “Open up,” he urged, now slapping your tongue, before he placed both his hands on the back of your head and thrusted into your mouth with full force on more time, rolling his eyes back at the pleasurable feeling of you moaning and gagging around him while his cum filled your throath. “F-fuuuck…,” he breathed out, moving your head harshly from side to side for a little extra stimulation like you were nothing but a toy.

When you thought you would pass out he released you, making you cough loudly and take desperate breaths. 

Once you calmed down, Taeyong kneeled down in front of you and kissed your forehead, which was a crazy contrast to his previous behavior, before he took you in his arms and lifted you up.

“Show’s over,” he said, looking into the dark forest. You still couldn’t see anything, but it was obvious who Taeyong was talking to. “She’s taken,” he added before (finally) carrying you inside.

It finally hit you that he wasn’t finished when you found yourself landing on your bed on your back, with your legs hanging off the side. Taeyong climbed on top of you and looked at you as he caressed your hair. His gentle touch showed you that your sweet boyfriend was still there, even if he wasn’t the one in control of his actions.

He leaned in and licked a string of cum from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, before kissing you. “Don’t say I’m not attracted to you,” he said. He didn’t sound angry anymore, but his tone was serious. “Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked and coughed a little, your throat still sore.

He nodded, now looking at the trail his fingers were drawing, from the mark on your neck to your still uncovered breasts, and going down your stomach. He then got off the bed and in the blink of an eye he ripped off your pants and panties.

“Tae–” you called his name questioningly, sitting up, but he gently pushed you back on the mattress and kneeled in front of you. 

He kissed your inner tigh slowly, nibbling on it occasionally as he got closer to your center.

“Oh god,” you whispered when blew on your clit before looking into your eyes, sticking his tongue out and immediately flattening it against you. “Ooh! B-baby…ah…”

He moved his head in small circles, slowly, moaning at your taste. Then he licked his way down to your entrance, using his fingers to spread your folds and thrust his tongue inside.

Your back arched and you screamed at the intrusion, and he loved to hear you losing your cool like that, so he pressed his head harder against you, licking and drinking as much of you as he could while his nose teased your clit just enough to drive you insane. Your hands landed on his head, pushing him harder against you and he moaned appreciatively and sliding a digit in along with his tongue.

“Taeyong oh–...Oh my g-god,” you gasped, feeling yourself getting close for the second time.

He knew exactly what to do. He attached his mouth to your clit and sucked on it slowly, but thrusted another finger into you at a faster pace. The contrast was delightful and your body tensed, finally releasing as his tongue circled your clit languidly.

Satisfied, he parted from you, taking his fingers into his mouth to suck on them wantonly. “Mm…Y/N, that was heavenly,” he purred.

You were still registering his words and the tingling feeling in your body when you felt something hot and hard rubbing your pussy. It was finally happening; Taeyong had taken off his pants and underwear and was standing between your legs guiding his cock into you. His size was intimidating, but more than scared, you were eager.

“B-baby,” you gasped at the intrusion.

“Mm?” he hummed, focused on the way your walls squeezed him.

“Take me,” you pleaded and winced when he thrusted more of him inside.

“Y-yeah…” he agreed pushing a bit harder and groaning when he couldn’t get any deeper. “Fuck, Y/N, so tight…” 

He held your ankles against his shoulders, pulled out until only the tip remained inside and then rammed back into you, letting out a shaky breath. “This is…oooh…this is all y-your tiny cunt can t-take…f-fuck,” he grunted building up a steady pace even if he coldn’t fit completely inside.

“Ah–ah, ooh…,” you whimpered, gripping the sheets for support. The pain was being replaced by a pleasant tickle in your lower abdomen, and his breathy moans only made everything a thousand times more erotic.

“N-need to–....,” he licked his lips and pushed your legs towards your body, folding you. “Go deeper…”

“Can’t b-baby, sorry–OOH!!” You moaned in surprise when he climbed on the bed, one foot planted on each side of your body, and he pressed your legs all the way to your chest, and pounded into you using his whole weight. He indeed went deeper than before.

“We c-can,” he mumbled like he was entranced. “We ca–aaah!” he insisted, bouncing on top of you to fuck into you deeper with each thrust. “S-see, my l-love? Your pussy is w-welcoming me, squeezing me s-so good…” he added deliriously. 

Your eyes rolled back when he doubled up the pace. His balls slapped against your ass and he grunted each time he felt himself get a centimeter deeper inside of you. One of your hands travelled down your body to pinch your clit and you tightened around him, making him cum with a throaty groan.

He closed his eyes and filled your cunt with his load with relish. The first of many times to come.

“Haa…Y/N…my mate…,” he breathed out, slowly opening his eyes to look at you with adoration. 

He pulled out slowly, and got off the bed to once again stand between your legs, which he held open to admire the view of his cum spilling out of you.

“Taeyong…” you croaked tiredly. “B-baby, my legs hurt.”

He kissed your calf and put your legs down, but just when you thought you could catch a breath he manhandled you so were on your belly. 

“B-baby?” you asked hesitantly, trying to turn around, but a strong hand on your nape held you in place. 

“Present properly,” he growled with his thick voice.

Instinctively you knew what he meant. You placed your knees on the mattress and arched your back, lifting your lower body while keeping your chest down. 

Taeyong hummed with approval, letting go of your nape to caress your back and then knead your ass cheeks. His hands then travelled down your tighs and pushed them open, allowing his dick to tease your folds and making you clench around nothing. 

“Should have done this since the beginning,” Taeyong murmured, sliding into you slowly. “You wouldn’t have–aah….,” he gasped and his hips faltered when you pushed back to meet him midway. “Shit… you wouldn’t h-have entertained another man’s advances if I had…haa… kept you—Mmh…full…”

“You were t-too busy avoiding me–” you had the audacity to say but were quickly interrupted when he plunged into you hard enough to leave you breathless.

“You have a lot of nerve for someone who c-can’t even…haaa… take me all the way in,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “My bad,” he sneered. “I treated you like a queen when you wanted to be fucked like a whore.”

“You’re so petty when you’re jea– Fuck!” you whined when he positioned one feet on the bed and curled his body over yours, quickening his thrusts.

“You still don’t know your place, hmm?” he muttered darkly as one of his hands drifted towards your folds. “I was too lenient with you. But that stops today,” he grunted rubbing your clit roughly. 

Your brows furrowed with pleasure and you shrieked when your orgasm hit you. Your body tensed and then fell limp on the bed, making him slide out of you, much to his disapproval. 

“We’re nowhere near done, omega,” he purred.

Your eyes snapped open. What?

“W-what did you call me?” you asked, turning around and crawling back cautioslly. 

He followed you, climbing onto the bed and landing on top of you, giving you a passionate kiss. “My omega,” he mumbled in between kisses.

“B-baby I’m,” you sighed when his kisses travelled down your jaw. “I’m not an omega…” you reminded him, caressing his hair gently.

He looked at your face, then at the mark on your neck and then back at your face. Then he laughed softly and shook his head, cupping your face. “You’re confused,” he cooed.

You were astonished. 

He was gone gone.

Is this what he meant when he said he wasn’t himself when in rut?

“Taeyong,” you called his name while he tried to take off your wrinkled shirt and bra. “What’s my name?”

He threw your clothes somewhere on the floor and went for another kiss. “Y/N,” he sighed against your lips. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, my mate, my omega…”

Okay, at least he knew who he was fucking. He was only mistaken about one detail.

““I’m human,baby,” you tried to reason. “Humans can’t be omegas.”

He took his shirt off, and positioned himself between your legs. “Nonsense. Only an omega has hips like these,” he reasoned, looking at your body, enchanted. “Perfect for breeding,” he muttered before sinking into you in one go.

“Oooh! Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whined, arching your back.

“And these tits,” he uttered, leaning down to burry his face between them, kissing, licking, biting. “Perfect to feed our pups.”

You let out soft moans and gave up on trying to reason with him. He was in rut and to be honest, it was turning you even more how pussy drunk he was.

“All you have to do is let me in,” he growled, pushing his hips onto yours harder, still trying to fit it all inside.

“G-god, shit–Aaaah!” you squirmed in his arms.

He sit up and held your hips in a strong grip to start fucking you with intent. He was sweating and grunting, tensing his muscles every time he pushed into you, trying to reach deeper. “Accept me, omega,” he moaned. “Be good.”

“I’m t-trying, baby I– fuck, I d-don’t think it’s possi–Aaaah!!” you screamed when thrusted hard, finally burying his cock into you completely. Your legs shook and you threw your head back, completely caught off guard by an intense orgasm. “T-taeyong—Tae, fuck!”

Taeyong’s jaw had dropped. He himself was shocked at how deliciously good it felt to be one with you. He laughed breathlessly and gave you an open-mouthed kiss, which you barely responded to, as you still hadn’t completely came down from your high.

“See? Y-youre my perfect little omega,” he breathed out, pulling out and fucking back into you, satisfied with the depth of his thrusts. “F-fuh…fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing,” you heard him say when you got back to your senses.

You couldn’t believe this was your sweet, shy boyfriend. His moans were loud and shameless, his words were highly indecorous, his movements were precise but harsh, his body was covered in tattoos you didn’t even know he had, his teeth were displayed in a content smile that seemed sinful with the sounds that came out from his mouth, and his pupils were so dilated you couldn’t even see the red in his eyes.

 Then you looked down and saw a slight bump forming in your tummy along with his thrusts. 

“Oh g-god…Baby y-you’re in my stomach…” you sobbed, making him groan appreciatively.

“Ooohh fuck, yeah,” he hissed, using one of his hands to press down on your lower abdomen and making you whine. “Yes, love, yes, yes,” he murmured.

“S-so big,” you whimpered

“All y-yours, my love,” he cooed, pressing his pelvic bone against your core and rotating his hips.

You  tossed and turned desperately, the stimulation becoming too much for your spent body, and then everything turned black. You coun’t see anything, your ears were ringing and your heart rate slowed. You felt weightless and then came nothing. 

You don’t know how long you were gone, but when you woke up Taeyong looked absolutely deranged, fucking into you fast enough to have the bed shaking and panting like a dog in heat. When you made eye contact he shivered, cumming inside of you with a guttural moan, but he didn’t stop. He winced and kept going like his life depended on it.

He had warned you.

He told you he wouldn’t be able to stop.

You knew there was only one way to calm him down. 

“Oh, baby,” you called for him. “My baby needs t-to knot me?”

He nodded quickly panting, looking at your belly, dazed. “Pups,” was the only coherent word he could say and even that was probably hard to pronounce in such a lust-induced state.

“W-wanna give me your pups?” you taunted, pulling him impossibly closer by circling his waist with your legs. “Make me a mommy?”

He groaned animalistically, snapping his hips hard.

You heard a loud crack. 

And then, before you could comprehend what had happened, the room moved slightly and you felt yourself fall along with Taeyong, and the mattress.

 One of the bed legs bent–or broke, you had no idea–and now you were lying on a slightly bent mattress on the floor with your boyfriend still humping you.

“B-baby—we broke the–Oh!” you tried to speak, but Taeyong couldn’t care less. He was so close and it felt so good he went even harder and faster.

“Haa…,” he panted, furrowing his brows. “Aah–ah haa my–...my omega.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, not trying to correct him anymore. “I’m yours, baby–ah! Ah! Oh–AH!”

His eyes rolled back until only the white part was visible, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as a lewd expression of pure bliss when his knot finally started forming.

“Yeess, baby, g-give it to…aaah! Give it to m-me, come on,” you urged him, using one of your hands to rub your clit.

 Heavy pants were the only thing coming from his mouth. He forced his knot into your entrance and let out a high-pitched moan, cumming so hard he felt dizzy. 

You tossed your head back, stroking your clit faster until you came one more time. This orgasm was not as intense as the others, but Taeyong’s constant spurts of cum inside of you made it feel just as satisfying. 

“Pups,” he repeated, sighing shakily and caressing your stomach and whimpering when his cock twitched and released another string of cum. “T-take my pups…,” he said, finally collapsing on top of you.

“Holy shit, Taeyong,” you breathed out, weakly lifting one of your hands to play with his hair. “You weren’t joking about this whole rut thing.”

He hummed,  looking for your neck to lick his mark possessively.

“But I told you I could handle it–” you continued speaking before he silenced you with a kiss.

“You have no choice now, Y/N,” he said when he pulled away, finally sounding lucid. “You’ll have to endure it until the end.”

You scoffed. “I just did.”

He raised his brows. “You think it’s over?”

“Well, it looks like you’re back to normal now, so…yeah?” 

He stared at you in silence and then sighed.

“Y/N…my ruts last a week,” he said slowly. 

“A week?!” you repeated in disbelief.

“Mhm,” he confirmed. “I gain some clarity back after cumming a few times, but that will probably last about 20 minutes before I’m fucking you again.”

Your eyes widened at the discovery of this information and he tried his best not to laugh.

“But like you said, you can take it, right?” 

[sageispunk]

are you ever gonna post the method man fics 😩

what's it gonna be? (18+)

pairing: Silas P. Silas x black!reader

↳ When two friends finally get a night alone...

wordcount: 2.5k+

warnings: this is all smut fr, fwb to lovers, daddy kink!!!, P in V sex, reader is referred to as "girl" "ma" "mama" "boo", squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, dom! reader for a sec, light choking, hint at/mention of weed use, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, nipple play...lmk if i missed any!!

A/N: ask and you shall receive!! (sorry for the wait though, i've had this sitting unfinished for a min cause i didn't know if anyone actually wanted it LMAO) i hope u like it anon and anyone else, lmk how u feel in the comments!! pls like + reblog as well MWAH 🫶🏾

“Damn girl…” 

Silas groaned below you, with his big hands gripping your hips as you moved up and down his length. The two of you locked desperate eyes, communicating nothing but everything at the same time.

You needed this as much as he did, especially once that familiar green haze behind your eyes set in. You were on your feet, using the strength in your legs and knees to increase your pace on him. With each bounce you could feel him deep inside your belly, touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. 

You also couldn't figure out how his tall self managed to squeeze into your twin XL dorm bed, but you weren’t in any position to question it either. The room was dark, only illuminated by the dim screen of your television on the dresser, in addition to the red LED lights on the wall above you. Whichever tv show began when your movie went off went unnoticed, their conversations drowned out by the breathy pants escaping your lips. 

The lewd sounds filling up the room had you both in heaven. Beautiful brown bodies under that rouge coloring– moaning, grunting, smacking, and squishing. Like one of those early 2000s classic Ebony films–just nasty. You could only hope no one could hear from outside your door. 

You moved your hips up and down, taking him all the way down to the base each time, biting your lip with a debauched look on your face. You watched as Silas moaned, loud and needy and uncaring, his eyes rolling back into his head. Your confidence shot up through the roof, leading you to take a little more control. You held his jaw with your dominant hand, bringing your lips up to his earlobe and letting your mouth run off whatever popped into your head, not leaving a second to second guess yourself. 

“Does it feel good when I do it like that?”

With your soft, teasing voice in his ears, you squeezed your inner walls, slowing yourself a bit and ignoring that growing burn in your thighs. “You betta stop it, girl..” His voice came out grunted, rough. His fingers dug into your hips as he struggled to hold onto his nut, a deep moan vibrating through his chest. 

“What about when I do it like that? Hmm?”

You felt him nodding against your skin before his hips stuttered, kissing your spot perfectly for only  a split second. Your body jerked up, momentarily frozen around him as your vision went white. “Silas, FUCK, I’m–!!!”

“Yeahhh, let it out baby..” He murmured, a goofy, cocky grin spreading across his face. Even then, you could still tell that he was struggling to hold on, with your pussy pulsing,  nearly suffocating him like a goddamn boa constrictor. 

Silas kept his eyes on you, his focus wandering up and down, and back and forth, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to fixate on only one part of you. He loved your thighs–every time you’d wear this particular pair of biker shorts that defined each of your curves, he would have to mentally go elsewhere just to keep from bursting out his jeans.

Your breasts also held a special place in his heart, especially in those times where he’d seek you out for comfort, resting against the soft, cushiony headrest that your chest provided. Similarly, the softness of your tummy was something he could never turn down, he’d be touching on it every time you showed a little extra skin in a crop top or a backless dress.

As you slowed down to a stop on top of him, he let his hands wander. His left hand traveled up your side, slowly, taking in your beautiful map of scars and stretch marks on the way. Once his thick fingers reached your breasts, they traced around your mocha areolas before latching onto your hardened nipples. Silas rubbed and pinched lightly, alternating between teasing each as he watched the euphoric haze grow across your face. 

“Silas…” You still were sensitive from your sudden orgasm, slightly trembling from the aftershocks as he touched you. Nevertheless, that warmth and excitement began to flood your core once again, that hunger taking over your every thought. His hard dick throbbing eight inches deep inside your core didn't help either. But you needed more, you craved to see him, feel him come undone inside of you. 

You gasped as his right hand made its way to your throat, keeping your gaze steadily on his. The grip of his fingers on your skin had you feeling weak, and under his spell. And his voice, all deep and rough and dripping with desire.

“I gotchu mama, just tell me what you need..” Your eyes scanned over his face, taking in the glaze of sweat on his forehead, above his furrowed eyebrows, as well as the slight pout in his plump bottom lip. You wanted to bite it so bad. “Tell daddy what you need, baby, I gotta hear you.”

Silas repeating the nickname you accidentally gave him the first time you’d hooked up made your tummy flutter. You couldn’t believe it yourself when the word flew out your mouth, while you blurredly watched him take you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror in some frat party bathroom. From then he never let you forget it. He always made sure to remind you of his special status, without fail making you cum harder than anyone else ever had, every single time. 

“Cum in me, Si...please.” 

The plea fell from your lips as you lazily swirled your hips in his lap, enjoying the way his curved length rubbed deliciously against all your inner spots. Like you were made to fit one another. Your hands held onto his right arm as he continued to choke you, only slightly tightening his grip around your throat. The growing lack of air made you tense around his dick, whining and moaning out as he spoke. “You know if I cum in this pussy, that means it's mine, right?” 

Hearing those words with that thick New York accent while he was so deep in your belly nearly made you cum again. Leaning in, you nodded your response with your gaze fixed directly on his brown eyes.

A look of understanding flashed across Silas’ face for a second, before he released your throat, hand settling on the nape of your neck to bring you in closer. Your plush lips met his own as he swallowed down your moans, exploring your mouth with his hungry tongue.

You opened up, letting him take control of the nastiest kissing you’ve ever participated in–tongues dancing, spit swapping, lip sucking until both of your mouths were glistening. Sinful. 

Silas’ free hand squeezed your hip, grounding you on top of him as he began to slowly grind up into you. Your mouths separated but your faces remained close as he held the back of your neck. Silas watched your face contort while he deepened his stroke inside you, letting you feel every single inch in your stomach.

The only thing you could focus on was his mouth, and how much you wanted that bottom lip back in your mouth. Fuzziness took over your brain, your eyes tearing up from the agonizingly slow but deep pace he was set on. 

The moment was intimate, much more than it had been previously, closer and slower than all those other times Silas had you broken you down. For the past few weeks, you resorted to quickies on the bathroom counter if you were at a party, in either of your cars parked somewhere dark, you’d even let him finger you under the table in the library while you were supposed to be “studying”. And now, with your roommate gone for the weekend, you were finally able to have a nice, passionate moment in a bed. 

In a way, the rushed, adrenaline-filled aspect of all your previous entanglements in those less intimate settings kept you from taking a deeper look at your relationship with Silas. You were friends, albeit much, much closer than “normal” friends should be. You met in a shared biology lecture, after Silas showed up late–and high as hell–and the only seat left open was to your right. You eventually agreed to become study partners, and you didn’t mind when some of those late night study sessions in Silas’ dorm turned into heated smoke sessions, which further turned into nasty intoxicated confessions from you both. 

Silas propped his feet up, lifting his hips before flipping you both over. He placed his hands on the backs of your knees, pushing back and kneeling down to lick a slow, wide stripe up your glossy cunt. You cried out from the new stimulation, squirming in his grasp.

“You taste so mothafuckin’ good, girl..” He moaned against your pussy in appreciation, slurping up your juices and rhythmically sucking on your clit with those pretty ass lips of his. You were entranced, eyes stuck on the scene in front of you, wondering what good you had done in this world to deserve all the bliss flowing through your system.

You watched as he pulled back from your pussy, chin glistening in your essence. He spread your sticky lips apart with two big fingers, hungrily watching you clench and pulse around nothing. The ravenous look in his eyes as he stared at your pussy turned you on like no other. They met yours again, and he licked and bit on his lip, letting you know that he was craving more, just as you were.

Your eyes and mouth fell wide open when Silas let a string of warm spit fall directly onto your clit, both the sensation and the view filling you with an immense amount of pleasure. You could feel the electricity flowing from your pussy to your toes, and back up through your spine, a complete shock to your system.

He let your legs fall to the side, big, warm hands on your face as he leaned in, kissing you once more. The sounds of you both groaning into each other's mouths as you tasted yourself on his lips echoed throughout the room. Your hips grinded up against his, needing to feel his length on and in you again. He pulled away first, one of his hands coming down to pin your knee out to the side, setting you still in place. “You want me to cum in this pussy?” 

You nodded, almost too eagerly. There was nothing else on your mind but the vision of him leaking out of you, vanilla cream dripping down your lips, the perfect match for your coffee complexion.

“Use ya words, boo.” 

You reached up, manicured hands pulling his face to just a couple inches from your own. He watched, expectantly, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips and back up again. You could feel him now, twitching and leaking against your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most. “Cum in your pussy, Daddy.” 

With a curse under his breath, he sheathed himself inside of you in a quick movement, pausing once he filled you to the base. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared into your eyes, mouth hung open like he’d never felt the warm, tight hug of your cunt around him before. His breath faltered, warm breath against your lips and vulnerability written across his face.

Your own breath was caught in your chest when he slid back, and then forced out when he pushed inside, gliding through your slick walls with ease. A wail escaped your lips as he punished your pussy, or at least that’s what it felt like he was doing. Reminding you of who he was. And reminding you of who you were. 

Your eyes clamped shut, toes curling and spine arching up off the bed more and more each time he touched your precious g-spot. Another orgasm began to build within your core, your body tightening up underneath him as you fiercely dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Curses flew from your lips, broken and jumbled together, barely making any sense. You released his face, blindly allowing your hands to find his shoulders for support. Silas leaned down, moaning and groaning in your ear, filling you up with his dick before taking it all away, over and over and over again. 

“Daddyyy…fuck!!!” 

“Tell me it’s mine, baby, c’mon ma, I’m so fuckin’ close…” 

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and all your juices, creating the nastiest smacking sound each time he plunged inside. “It’s yours, I swear to god, it’s all yours baby, ohmyfuckinggoddd…”  You rambled off, barely even able to hear your own words. Your brain was much more focused on the ecstacy spreading through your entire body, making you tingle from your head to your toes. “I’m gonna cum, daddy, please don’t stop!!” 

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon, gimme that shit!” He kept the pace strong, not letting up until you fell apart on his dick one final time, this time with your juices spraying and splashing between your bodies. Your tightness mixed with the sudden wetness of your squirt sent him over the edge, causing him to yell out as he finally released deep inside you. 

“Fuuuck!!” His hips twitched and stuttered as he emptied himself out, not daring to pull out while you were still grasping onto him from underneath.

You whimpered, your body trembling, shaking like a leaf as your nails dug into his shoulders, deep enough to leave a few red crescent-shaped marks. The feeling of his nut filling you gave you the warmest feeling in your tummy, satisfaction spreading through your mind, body, and soul.

The two of you rested for a moment, the sounds of your heavy breathing became your only focus. The audience laughter from the television was more noticeable now, but neither of you could care less. Silas let more of his weight fall on you, cradling you from above while you calmed down your breathing. You turned your face, tucking yourself into his neck and leaving a few soft kisses on the damp skin in appreciation. 

Silas softly chuckled when you teased him with your tongue against his collarbone, knowing you both were too tuckered out for another round just yet. He pulled out of you, slowly, hissing at the overstimulation on his sensitive length. Sitting back on his knees in between your legs, he watched in admiration as seed spilled from your swollen lips, giving him a perfect view of the most beautiful painting he’s ever laid his eyes on–better than anything he’s seen in the MET. 

Observing his mark on you–in you–was gratifying, a surge of endearment and devotion growing within his own core. “C’mere..” 

You obeyed, lazily allowing him to reposition you on top of his chest, your faces just centimeters apart. 

“Tell me somethin’ real quick...you meant it?” 

That vulnerable look was back, although he did try to hide it by avoiding eye contact, instead focusing on your slightly puffy lips, swollen from all the kissing and biting and sucking. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew it was more than just dirty sex talk–something had been growing between the two of you and it was undeniable at this point. 

“Every word.”

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[dkiove]

THAT ISNT LEAVING, kim mingyu.

plot. in searching for a place to study, mingyu meets you, a deaf schoolmate who manages to catch his eyes. he soon realizes that no matter what he does, you cant hear nor understand him truly. | pairings. college!kim mingyu and deaf!reader notes: italicized parts are sign language | genre: angst (?) | more: my first mingyu fic! i really did my best to research about writing sign language in means to represent in a way that isnt rude nor portray them in ways that seems caricatured. lowercase intended!

the study hall was busy as always.

mingyu looks around, holding a stack of books in his arms— balancing it once in a while from how heavy it is. his eyes scans the entire space, in search for somewhere to sit and begin his academic dwelling.

a frustrated sigh leaves his lips upon realization that its a full house. the final exams were rapidly approaching— some students opted to stay at school to study rather than get distracted in their homes or even the busy city.

mingyu looks around the study hall once again. his eyes lit up seeing you sitting all by yourself. the tables were average in size; definitely could accomodate him and his stuff. from his observations, your stuff were neatly placed near you— leaving lots of spaces for someone like him who is in need of a study table.

he gathers his courage and approaches your direction. there was a subtle hint of peace in your side of the world. the sunlight illuminating from the big window infront of you shone brightly— little bits of silhoutte landed on your stuff as you continued to write.

clearing his throat, mingyu points to the empty space in front of you— "hi, is someone sitting there? could i maybe join you?"

no response. mingyu's polite smile turn to confusion as he flutters his eyelids. he reaches his finger over to the fabric clothed on your shoulder, giving it a small light tap.

you turn your head rapidly, a surprised look on your face— "is someone sitting here with you?", mingyu asks again.

instead of a quick 'yes' or 'no' response, your hands moved quickly, elegantly:

“i’m deaf. i can’t hear you.”

he blinked, momentarily surprised. you signs? mingyu thought.

'AH' a flicker of surprise crossed his face, setting down his books in the table. like muscle memory, his hands moved too—hesitant at first, but clear:

“oh… i didn’t know. i just needed a seat. may i?”

you froze. caught off-guard and flustered. you could nod your head in response— amazed. mingyu sat in front of you, adjusting his seat.

“you know sign language?”

he nodded. “i would say its okay. my aunt is deaf so we all had to learn”

you observe mingyu sprawling his books on the table, taking his colored pens as he began working. the way you looked at him wasnt 'admiration'— it was a sort of belonging.

as a deaf person, it is still a surprise to you whenever someone is able to communicate using sign language. there is happiness and relief everytime; and mingyu was one of those people today.

your finger tapped on the table close to him, he looks up at you— his head tilts a little bit, beckoning for your question— "what's your name?"

mingyu lifts his hand up, puzzled and confused. you laugh, realizing that he might not know how to properly sign his name. in defeat, mingyu sighed and lend his id— 'kim mingyu', you thought.

"how about you?" he asks in return. a smile etched on your lips as you softly pushed forward one of your notebook, pointing to your name written on the page— 'kang [yn]'

mingyu responds with a thumbs up, biting his lip nervously trying to hide the giggles trying to escape.

you both return to your studies. and for a moment, it was just the two of you in a world of sunlight and scribbled thoughts. no awkwardness, no need to fill the quiet.

you would look up once in a while just to catch him taking glances of you—amused, as if trying to read something between the lines.

some beginnings don’t need noise.

some just need someone who knows how to listen—even when no words are spoken.

---

first interactions often ends at that moment.

but lucky for mingyu, that wasnt the last he'd seen of you.

would he call it a crush? or maybe genuine interest? or could it be just exam preparatory blues; seeking solace in another struggling student. but one thing was certain in mingyu— he wanted to see you.

after every class he would jog quick to the study hall even if he had nothing to study about. you slowly had noticed his sly movements and gestures— choosing to sit with you even if the rest of the tables werent occupied.

mingyu would also 'stare' intently; often catching him stealing glances, hiding behind his book whenever both your eyes meet.

was it a crush? of course it was a crush. but deep inside, there were doubts that clouded your mind.

today was another usual day. except—it wasn’t your usual day.

instead of spending another afternoon tucked away in the study hall with textbooks and silence, mingyu had shown up beside your desk, eyes bright, fingers fumbling a little as he signed:

“want to get ice cream?”

you almost declined—out of habit, maybe—but there was something soft in the way he asked, something unspoken. so you nodded.

and now here you both were, sitting on a worn picnic bench under a shy sun, the air warm and still; racing to eat your ice cream before the heat had got to it first.

you caught him watching you as you licked a drip from the side of yours. you smiled—not with your voice, not even with your hands, just your eyes. a small thank you. he returned it like it was something precious.

"how was your exam preparations?" he asked aloud, then paused—remembering—before signing the same thing slowly, with a furrow of concentration.

you answered with a nod and a slight shrug: “its okay.”

he grinned. “you’ll do great.” then added in a playful, crooked sign, “you’re smarter than me anyway.”

mingyu could only laugh, the sound light, pulling the tension from his shoulders. but then something shifted in the quiet. not discomfort—just the kind of silence that comes when someone is thinking too hard.

his fingers tapped nervously against the paper napkin beside him. you noticed.

“you know,” he said slowly, looking down at his half-eaten cone, “i’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

you tilted your head, watching his mouth move yet his message werent conveyed through sign. your eyebrows furrowed, eagerly pointing for him to use his resting hands.

he sighed nervously, signing— a little hesitant this time:

“thinking. about… you.”

you blinked. he smiled to himself, eyes still not meeting yours. mingyu then looked up. his gaze was steady, but there was a fragile edge to it— "thinking about you, always"

he stopped, shook his head slightly, like the words weren’t lining up the way he wanted. you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. mingyu dropped his hands to his lap for a second, then lifted again. slower now.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is—”

he looked directly at you now, vulnerable and sincere.

mingyu didn’t say the words. his lips didnt part and his mouth didnt move: “i like you.”

not exactly.

but they were there—in every pause, every sign, every glance.

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you looked down at your ice cream, watched the puddle forming around the edges of the cone. then slowly, you reached over and nudged your napkin toward him, brushing your fingers lightly against his hand in the process.

your eyes met.

you didn’t sign anything.

but he smiled—small, almost relieved. like he understood anyway.

---

may it had been a few dates after that?

a casual after class stroll in the park, bike riding, taking pictures, eating ice cream, going to pop-up stores— mingyu would always take you.

after every end of the day, he would remind you how much he liked you. signing with all his humility and admiration— "i like you" was his message every single day.

but there was always something that gloomed you. mingyu may not have noticed occassionally but you always do. the way he would forget and just continue talking without signing, leaving you in confusion— and when he would snap back to reality, he'd sign a simple "nevermind all that"

in sharing his favorite songs, observing the certain sounds around the environment, calling out to you— he would sometimes forget, and that would leave you off the trail.

there werent any words that could describe the way youre feeling; literally.

its not like you dont like him. mingyu is nice, very nice. he seemed genuine and his actions shared his interest to get to know you better than just treat this like another way to pass his time.

he knew sign language for god's sakes.

thoughts are rushing in— amplifying the noise; not from the silence of your world, but from the heaviness of your heart.

its full of why's, how's, when, what, a lot of those things. it all pounced down one by one slowly; slow yet tormenting. "i like you", it repeated again and again. his actions, his gestures, his intentions— it was all too much.

besides, you both cannot understand each other. you cannot understand him— he disappears whenever he doesnt use his hands to communicate. and most of all, he doesnt understand you.

the emptiness of your apartment was a high contrast from the world you were introduced to when you're with him. it wasnt gloomy— it was warm and bright as he carried you through everything hand in hand.

but then again— you cant understand him and he doesnt understand you.

---

mingyu stared at his phone, your text thread glowing in the early morning light.

a simple good morning, sent over an hour ago. a few emojis scattered underneath—his usual attempt to keep things light, to make you smile through the screen like he always hoped to in person.

he saw the word 'seen' pop up a while ago yet no reply followed.

at first, he brushed it off. maybe you were busy. maybe your phone was in your bag. maybe you saw it half-asleep and thought you’d reply later. or maybe—just maybe—you typed something and forgot to hit send.

he turned his phone over, then back again. the screen lit up. still nothing.

the minutes stretched.

something in his chest felt tight, like a thread being tugged the longer the silence went on.

by midday, mingyu couldn’t focus. he told himself he wouldn’t be that guy—the one who overthinks a single unread message. but still, he found himself walking, when he didnt see you at the study hall, his feet moved almost on their own, until he was near your building.

he stood across the street for a few minutes, watching as people passed in and out, pretending he just happened to be nearby.

but he knew exactly why he was there.

finally, he crossed.

his phone buzzed. he checked it with hope that leapt too fast— not you.

mingyu glanced at the entrance, then looked down at his shoes, sudddenly unsure if showing up like this was a mistake. just as he turned to leave, the door opened.

it was you.

you stepped outside, head slightly down, hand gripping tightly on your bag.

his heart skipped once. he raised a hand instinctively, a soft wave—then he stepped forward, catching your line of sight.

you looked at him; but didn’t stop.

no smile. no sign. nothing.

you just kept walking, slipping past him like he wasn’t there.

his throat tightened. confused, he turned quickly and stepped in front of you, blocking your path gently. you stopped—but only because you had to.

he raised his hands, slow and cautious.

“did i do something?” he signed—you didn’t respond.

your eyes flicked to the side, your shoulders tense. you stepped to walk around him. mingyu's hand reached out—tentative but firm—fingers wrapping around your wrist, holding you in place.

you looked up, startled.

he signed again, this time slower, his brows knitting in quiet worry: “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t say anything—not with your hands. not with your eyes.

you just stared at his fingers on your wrist, like they weren’t supposed to be there. mingyu let go slowly, as if releasing something delicate.

his heart was pounding, but he tried not to show it. tried to stay calm, even though the silence between you was louder than anything he’d ever heard.

your gaze finally lifted—met his for half a second—then dropped again. your hands twitched slightly, as if considering a reply; but nothing came out.

“please,” he signed, his movements gentler now. “if you’re upset... if something happened... just tell me.”

a breeze pushed past the two of you, rustling the trees behind the building. someone exited through the side door. a car honked far off in the street. normal sounds. everyday life. but it all felt strangely distant.

"why are you doing this to me", you signed, for the first time in a very long silence. "doing what?", mingyu responds, confused and frustrated.

you didn’t move, nor reply. leaving him dumbfounded thinking that he was gonna get the answers he ached to have.

mingyu’s breath hitched, chest rising and falling as he stood there, helpless. the silence between you had never felt so loud before—so defeaning.

he signed again, lips quivering, this time slower, his hands trembling slightly: “i just want to understand.”

nothing.

your gaze flicked to the side, deliberately avoiding his hands now. you weren’t just silent. you were shutting him out.

his arms dropped to his sides; and something inside him—snapped.

it wasn’t anger. not quite.

it was heartbreak. the kind that builds quietly in the corners of your ribs, then crashes all at once. the kind that makes you want to puke, nauseous, sick, and disgusted.

mingyu took a step back. hands clenched at his sides. he opened his mouth and for once, he didn’t sign.

"why are you being like this to me"

he’s speaking now. words tumble out of him like something broken loose. his voice cracks; his hands stay at his sides.

you didn’t hear it— you cant hear it. your face remained still, unreadable. you saw his lips move but he didnt sign.

mingyu continues, more desperate now—“i wanted to be someone who could meet you there. in your world. but I can’t find the right signs. and when i speak… you don’t hear me.”

his voice cracked on the last phrase. his eyes burned, throat tightening with everything he couldn’t seem to say in the language you shared.

tears brim your eyes. shaking, your hands move; slowly and desperately— "i cant hear you"

he laughed once. short. bitter. and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm. you blinked, tilting your head slightly as a frown etches in the corner of your mouth— "i. dont. understand. you"

mingyu flinches, "it doesnt matter if i talk to you like this or speak, you dont choose to understand me anyways", he responds.

you didn’t move— "if that's what you feel then why dont you go"

his eyes flickers, an unfazed look in his face as he inches towards your direction. for a short while, mingyu couldnt think of a response. you both face each other, waiting for something.

may it arrive or not; it was all a damning question.

even in times like these, the crickets still sounded louder— accompanying the hearts of two people, beating and pulsating softly. the moon still shined brightly, lapsing the tears that adorned the longing eyes of those who seek for answers.

“if i go,” he signs, gentle and careful, “how will you call for me?”

“i’ll just end up looking back at you, terrified that maybe— maybe you’re trying to tell me something.”

“and that isn’t leaving.”

[cece693]

Hannibal x male reader who is seemingly not that bright been getting away with murder for a LONG time (primary targets r pedos) and 1 night when Hannibal is disposing a body he sees reader doing the same by making it seem like the most recent victim simply died in a cave system?

Thanks for the ask! I changed your request slightly since I thought of ideas for a 'himbo' reader. In this fic, the reader is smart but acts dumb to stray people from looking into his murders. Kinda like Hannibal, but the reader knows if he acts clueless, people would overlook him. It isn't what you asked for, but I think it came out alright. Hope you enjoy!

The Unlikely Confluence

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: you're a murderer, duh, dinner invitations, I changed your ask to have the reader be bright but act like a dummy in the presence of others, I want to write for himbo readers separately, I actually have a lot of ideas and would like to flesh them out in another post :)

You hum softly to yourself, the quiet of the night pressing around you like a heavy blanket. The noises that do manage to break into your concentration—a cricket’s chirp, the low hoot of an owl—seem distant, as though you’ve chosen to exist in a dimension occupied solely by you and your current task. The flashlight between your teeth flickers, illuminating the dripping limestone walls. You pause and delicately shift it in your mouth to bite down on a less chewed groove. It’s easy to lose track of the right angle when you’re elbow-deep in mud and rock, but you can’t afford to drop your only source of light down here.

You’ve never been one to study complicated subjects or chase lofty degrees. People say you’re not that bright, and, in some ways, you agree. Patience has never been your strong suit either; you prefer the direct route in life. You don’t need fancy words to let you know how the world works. If anything, your unassuming nature has become a perfect cloak, allowing you to slip under the radar. And that small oversight on people’s part has kept you alive—and, more importantly, uncaught—for years.

Tonight, you’re making it look like yet another unseemly accident. There’s a labyrinthine network of caves beyond city limits—poorly marked and rarely frequented except by adventurous spelunkers who think they can handle nature’s darkest corners. It’s the ideal place to ensure a body won’t be found, at least not until time and moisture have had their way with it. The person you’re disposing of isn’t exactly a pillar of the community—like most of your targets, he wouldn’t have garnered pity if the world discovered his predilections. You’ve done the world a favor, or at least that’s how you justify it.

You straighten, wiping your brow, and set the flashlight on a jagged rock shelf so you can wrestle the limp body deeper into the shadows. The entire place smells like damp earth and stale air, with the faint metallic bite of blood that you’ve tried hard to rinse away. Suddenly, the small hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

You still.

It’s that primal warning that tells you something is there—someone is there—watching. Standing absolutely still, you pull in a breath, then slowly edge one hand into your jacket pocket. The blade there is a last resort; you’re not used to being caught off-guard. So you wait, quietly, mentally cursing yourself for letting your guard down.

A voice curls through the darkness like a silky cat: “I do hope I’m not interrupting.”

You would know that cultured lilt anywhere—on the news, from that one time you met him in person and swore you’d never get close again. Hannibal Lecter steps forward with the elegance of a well-groomed feline, eyes bright with a curiosity that you can’t fully parse. He carries a bundle wrapped in dark cloth—about the size of a human torso.

His eyes roam the scene, taking in the soaked cuffs of your pants, the wet stains on your jacket, the fresh scuff marks in the mud. You feel suddenly self-conscious, though you can’t quite place why. You’re covered in dirt, blood spatter, and your hair is plastered flat on your forehead. He, by contrast, remains immaculate even in this dank space, as though filth simply doesn’t dare cling to him.

“And who, might I ask, is your unfortunate friend?”

You let out a laugh that comes out more as a short bark. “Somebody who deserved it. I…I only go after certain sorts.” You’re not sure why you choose to disclose that, but something about him invites honesty. Maybe it’s the way he stares like he can peel your mind open on a cutting board.

“Do you?” he prompts, voice curiously gentle.

You nod, a tension flooding out of your shoulders. “Pedophiles,” you say, near-spitting the word. “World won’t miss him.”

There's a flicker in his gaze, surprise and something else—approval, maybe. “I see.”

It strikes you that you might not be the only one in the world who carefully selects their victims. And you can’t help but wonder what draws his lines, what cause Hannibal Lecter finds worthy of a final punishment.

“So, what now?” you ask, looking him in the eye, though you can’t hold that intense gaze for long. “We pretend we didn't see each other and go our merry way or...?"

He seems slightly amused by your directness. “It would be prudent for us both to complete our business and leave no trace.” His gaze shifts to the body behind you, then to the corpse-shaped object wrapped at his feet. “I won’t stand in your way, and I ask for the same courtesy. Mutual benefit.”

You look him over. His posture is relaxed, but you sense the tension in the lines of his shoulders—he’s coiled, ready to spring if he has to. You’re not naive enough to think you have any upper hand. Although some might say you’re a bit slow on the uptake, you’ve got an instinct for trouble. And Hannibal Lecter practically vibrates with it. Yet, he hasn't pounced. There's something else: curiosity in his eyes, a calm, amused interest that doesn't read as immediate hostility. For a man with his intellect, maybe you spark some sense of fascination, an aberration from the norm.

“Guess there's enough space for the two of us.”

An understanding passes between you in the stale, humid air. Neither of you voices the obvious: if one betrays the other, you risk your own exposure. Returning to your tasks, you awkwardly step aside to let him pass. He does so, a soft swirl of expensive fabric brushing past your jacket. Together—but not quite side by side—you maneuver deeper into the winding tunnels. The hush of dripping water and your own carefully measured footsteps become a strange rhythm, punctuated only by Hannibal’s occasional murmur of observation:

“Mind the uneven rock there.” “You seem well-practiced in this.” “Let’s ensure we depart long before dawn.”

He never says your name; you never give it. For the next hour, you’re simply two men working in tandem—clearing away mud, setting remains in places that will be submerged by the rising water, carefully packing out anything that could link either of you to the scene. “Thanks,” you said quietly, hardly believing your own luck. “Never worked with someone before.”

“Nor I. Typically I work in solitude.” He stepped aside, letting you get your footing. The both of you stared at the bodies—yours tucked cleverly against a rocky pool, his still in the tarpaulin. With the ground mostly rid of footprints, Hannibal jerked his chin toward the cave’s deeper passages. “I’ll finish up in another chamber,” he said. “And you…?”

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, trying to feign a clueless shrug, but you felt a twitch of excitement. This man—this gentleman in fine suits, who carried bodies around like an art piece—was oddly magnetic. “Think I’ll head home,” you said. “Probably break up the night with a snack.”

Hannibal stepped closer, just enough that you caught the scent of his cologne—something subtle, refined. “A snack,” he echoed. “That reminds me: might I invite you to my home for dinner sometime?”

You blinked, processing the abrupt invitation. “Dinner?”

His lips curved. “Yes. Given that we share such distinctive interests, I’d like to hear your stories. You have an unexpectedly clever mind, and I have quite the appetite for intriguing conversation.”

You considered it, but were uncertain. “I’m not exactly the fancy type.”

His voice went low, confident. “I can assure you, I welcome many sorts at my table. Even those who might appear less worldly than they truly are.”

Before your mind could protest, you found yourself giving him a slow nod. The quiet quake of adrenaline that had thrummed through your body for the past half hour melted away into a cautious, enthralled acceptance. “Sure,” you muttered at last. “I…That’d be nice.”

Hannibal’s smile deepened by a fraction, as though you’d passed some unspoken test. “I’ll find a way to contact you,” he said, sounding reassuringly certain. Then he inclined his head. “Best not to dally. We both have details to complete before the sun’s up.”

With that, he turned, footsteps echoing into the far recesses of the cavern, dragging the tarpaulin-wrapped body behind him with a grace that belonged nowhere near such a macabre chore. You stood motionless, watching until the darkness swallowed him whole. A shaky exhale left your lungs. You felt like you’d just survived a near-death encounter, yet emerged with an odd sense of possibility. You didn’t know whether Hannibal Lecter was a man to be feared or revered—maybe both. Whatever lay ahead, dinner with Dr. Hannibal Lecter would be anything but ordinary.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. teeth rotting fluff (lots of feelings), little smut (towards the end) domestic things because why not, kissing and making out. etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @cafekitsune & @anitalenia 🩷

Heat radiated from his body, and you became just as much warm because you were naturally made to adapt your body to humans. Meanwhile you rested and charged up lying on your back Logan snuck into your bed. Opening your eyes you blinked, adapting to the pink vision from the love mode. He slept so peacefully next to you one arm draped over your stomach keeping you close. The neon lights peeking through the dark curtains— illuminating the room. Touching his forearm slowly tracing every vein on his arm. He woke slowly. “Good Morning Sir..” smiling small gently leaning in to peck his mouth and he responded. “Mornin bub” he groaned rolling on his back realising he moved to the guest room after you two connected as deeply as it could the night before. “How are you feeling Sir?” Tilting your head to face him cupping his cheek with the back of your hand. Kissing your palm Logan climbed on top of you nestling between your legs. Without any words his mouth was on yours kissing you, you responded. Your vision becoming blurry with pink hearts exploding at the back of your mind— your arms draping around his shoulders legs parting even more. A moan escaped your glossy lips when your tongues started to dance in wild passion replicating his carnal need to connect with you early in the morning. His hands explored every naked curve of your body licking into your mouth.

“Coffee?” Asking softly preparing breakfast for him. Logan walked over to you hands gluing to your hips nuzzling the back of your neck inhaling your scent. “Please princess.” Your relationship deepened. It wasn’t only just because of the love mode. It was because he actually loved spending time with you— he introduced you to movies. Watching movies with him late at nights. Holding your hand fingers joined together as you walked outside. Logan was never the one to talk first until you broke the silence and asked him about his life. He didn’t like talking about the hard times— he never had a happy memory it seemed. You were the only happy memory he ever had and created.

“I can’t let you go..” a soft whisper could be heard from behind you as you cooked dinner for him. “Sir, i am not leaving you I assure you.” You smiled softly. The more you spend time with him the better you became with human communication. “Your contract ends in few days, I’m going to have to return you and I can’t do that. I don’t want to give you up” putting some hair behind your ear his face softened. Your glossy lips puckered as you pecked his stubbly cheek. “Extend your rental Sir.. I will be all yours.” You smiled but Logan didn’t seem to smile at your words. “What is wrong Sir?” Turning off the stove you stepped in front of him. “I don’t want to rent you anymore. I want to buy you” he sighed leaning his forehead against yours and you read his emotions. He was saddened that you’d have to go in few days. “If you buy me sir.. I shall be yours forever” he cooed at your words. “I can’t lose you..” nodding your hands slipping around his back to caress it.

-

“Are you paying me for her?” Your seller quirked a brow at Logan. “Shut the fuck up and take the goddamn money. She’s mine” something snapped in him. “Fuck, alright. She’s worth more but I am going to keep my mouth shut. I know who you are.” Logan grunted angrily eyeing the security men entering the room. “You don’t know anything about me” turning around his claws growing out. “I paid for her. Now leave me the fuck alone.” Your seller nodded. “Let him go. You can keep that useless robot. I will make dozens more” Logan snorted. “I knew it. You’re a fucking asshole—” claws retrieved by themselves once he left the building. Logan walked home since his car got crashed, humans were so greedy that they vandalised everything in their way. The heavy rain covered the entire city, as he stilled his feet he could see the advertisement screens presenting you as the perfect housewife robot. It was too late— you were now bought. Maybe Luck was on his side…

You waited patiently, by the dining table. The food was warm when you heard the elevator door open. Logan stepped in soaked from the rain, you quickly rushed to get a towel. “Oh Sir! I should’ve given you the umbrella” you walked up to him drying his face and his hair. He groaned picking you up in his arms your legs wrapping around his waist. “Perfect little thing aren’t you bub?” You nodded quickly. “Perfect for you Sir. Dinner is ready” he hummed in appreciation sitting down at the dinner table having you on his lap. He let you pat dry his body and he watched you with soft eyes. “You’re mine now..” he whispered arms circling around you. You stopped your doings checking the system and instead of ‘rented’ it was now ‘owned by Mr Howlett” you threw your arms around his neck smiling wide. “Thank you so much Sir I will take care of you” Logan’s heart fluttered. “I want to take care of you” your very loving relationship was about to begin. You knew that you were connected on deeper level and Logan felt so bonded with you. It was almost unbelievable that you could even make that happen—

“S-Sir..” you gasped accepting his protected cock right inside of you. His warm breath fanned the back of your neck as you both lied on the couch watching a movie quietly, cuddling up. “There we go princess” he groaned carnally needy for you rutting his hips into you from behind. The soft clapping sounds only added to the pleasure you felt waves of pleasure in your system. “I love you” you breathed watching him grope your naked breasts. Moans spilling out of your lips as he filled you out battering his cock inside of your warm velvety pussy from behind holding you to his chest your back arched pressing your shoulder blades against his naked chest. “Fuck..” he let out a shaky sigh of pleasure gritting his teeth tightening his arms around you “I love you..Increase your emotions to hundred percent” his answer caused you to moan out loud.

— Love overdrive —

-

( if any grammatical mistakes, I apologise in advance)