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submattsmxmmy · 1 month ago

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🥀🕊 dead dove: don't eat (this fic contains dark material - read at your own risk)

hiiii, it's @ariestrxsh (this is my backup account, and here is my contribution to kinktober 🖤 no taglist included on this account bc it would be really complicated)

🥀🕊 content warning: smut, prey/predator dynamic, primal kink, establishment of safeword, knifeplay, rough sex, degradation, daddy kink, roughdom!chris

🥀🕊 author's note: if the idea of being chased around in the forest at night and then being brutally fucked by chris sturniolo doesn't sound fun to you, don't read this!!! i don't ever want my writing to trigger, offend, or upset anyone, so please just skip this one if the material sounds unpleasant to you. this is just for those of us who have this little dark fantasy. 🖤

🥀🕊 summary: while housesitting for your boss, an unsuspecting visitor drops by, and the night takes a twist.

a forest

"I'll give you a two-minute headstart," he rasped into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You took off, sprinting into the vast forest that was lit up by the full moon. Your sneakers crushed twigs and dead leaves as you wandered deeper into the woods.

You stopped for a moment to take in the sound of your surroundings, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. So quiet you could hear your heart about to pound out of your chest, along with the sound of adrenaline pumping your blood through your veins.

The thick, grey clouds in the sky slowly moved into the way of the moon, obstructing the light it emmited momentarily. You were excited to be chased, but something about this situation still triggered a primal fear in you. You started to run again, trying not to lose your sense of direction along with all the other sensory deprivation you were experiencing.

Suddenly, your shoelace snagged on a branch that had fallen, launching you forward into the forest floor beneath you.

*flashback to several hours earlier*

Your car made its way down the winding dirt road as you navigated directions to your boss' house, the branches above creating a dense canopy above you while you meandered through the tunnel of trees.

She was a sweet lady who owned the dog grooming business you worked at, and she was offering you some extra money to house sit for her, feed her cats, and water her plants while she was away on vacation.

It was a nice way to make some extra cash, and a nice way for you to get away from your roommates for a little while and enjoy some peace and quiet in the little woodsy area she lived in. An even bigger plus, she told you to help yourself to any of the food in her fridge and pantry, so it wouldn't spoil or go stale in the time that she was gone.

You slammed on your brakes, nearly losing traction and kicking up dirt as a fawn leaped out of nowhere and into the path of your car and stopped a few feet in front of your headlights. Your heart raced, but you immediately let out a sigh of relief as it got away safely and trotted off in another direction.

You'd never been to your boss' place before, but it wasn't hard to find, considering it was the only house around, and the nearest neighbors were at least a couple of miles away. You located your destination, and as you slowly ascended the driveway and admired the wooden structure, the full clouds above you started to release a light drizzle of rain.

It was a big, gorgeous, and charming home. You could tell a lot of work and money had gone into it, and you were even more excited to see the inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepped out into the rain, and found the creepy owl statue, which the house key was hidden under. You put the key in the lock, turned it until you heard the click, and let yourself in.

It had a very rustic vibe, which really fit your boss, and you were so lost in the decor and the architecture that you were startled when a sweet, long-haired, black cat appeared at your feet and started rubbing up against your bare leg. She placed her two front paws on your black Converse shoe and peered up at you. "Hi, sweetie," you whispered, squatting down to let her smell you.

After she sniffed you for a few seconds, she drove her sweet face into your hand, and you scratched her under the chin. She started walking off in the other direction, looking back at you as if she wanted you to follow her.

You walked through the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room where two empty food bowls sat on the ground next to the fridge. "Awh, are you hungry?" You asked the cat as if she could respond to you, and you emptied a bit of dry food into both of the bowls, and as the sound of kibble ricocheting off the metal containers filled the room, another cat came bounding into view.

He was a short-haired brown tabby with white paws and a bit of white at the tip of his tail, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at you and ran the other direction to find something to hide under. "Can't win them all over, huh?" You said, peering down at the black cat as she gobbled up her food. She glanced back up at you and let out a soft meow as if she understood and went back to snacking.

You slowly walked through the rest of the house, acquainting yourself with the layout. You found your way to the guest room, which was right where you were told it was. Two doors down on the left after you walked through the second hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms.

You set your bag down on the bed you'd be sleeping in tonight and backtracked to the kitchen to check out the drink and snack selection. You found a bottle of bourbon stored in the pantry that looked pretty fancy. You were of age, and your boss did say you could have any food or beverages she had, so you poured yourself a glass of bourbon over ice after you'd found her stash of whiskey glasses.

You grabbed some garlic stuffed olives from the fridge along with some aged cheddar and crackers you found, and you made your way to the living room to check out the entertainment. While you were flipping through apps on the television, you noticed some pictures above the fireplace.

Your boss had mentioned she had a son your age, but you'd never seen him until your gaze landed on his senior photo. "Holy shit," you whispered, admiring his beautiful smile and his lovely, blue eyes. Why hadn't your boss told you her son was so hot?

You popped an olive into your mouth and washed it down with a small sip of bourbon as you studied the picture collection she had on the mantel above the fireplace. Your eyes were immediately drawn to all the pictures of her son, and you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander while you looked at his photos. You'd never seen a man so attractive before.

You picked up a photograph of him in which he was shirtless and carried it back over to the couch with you. After looking at his picture a bit longer and taking a few more sips of your alcoholic drink, you turned your attention back to the television.

The sun had set by now, and you'd settled on watching Jennifer's Body. You'd seen it a dozen times before, but it was the only movie that sparked your interest after looking through several films on several different streaming services. Plus, you thought the movie was fitting, given it was October.

You were drinking your second glass of bourbon while you snacked on cheese and crackers when the scene came on where Jennifer and Needy make out. You were so lost in the steamy kiss that you had no idea anyone was in the room with you.

"Whatcha watching?" A voice came out of nowhere. You snapped your neck around, nearly dropping your drink, paused the movie, and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" before you could take in any of the boy's features. "I'm Chris. Who the fuck are you?" He returned the question, snorting at you.

"Sorry, you must be my boss' son," you quickly apologized, realizing he was the same man in the pictures. He was even more attractive in person. You stood up, wiping your crumby hands off on your striped shirt and your cut-off jean shorts.

You introduced yourself and extended your hand to shake his, but his gorgeous blue eyes flicked to the photo you had of him on the coffee table in front of you. "Like that picture of me?" He flashed you his million-dollar smile.

You ignored his question that felt like more of an accusation. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I was told I'd be staying here all alone," you responded, still caught off guard by his presence. "Well, I didn't know anyone would be here either. My mom told me someone was watching the cats, but I didn't know that meant you'd be here full time," Chris said, still caught off guard by your presence.

"Well, your mom told me I could sleep here and eat what you guys had in the fridge. I'm not doing anything weird," you replied. "Sure, you're not," Chris smirked, his gaze flicking back up at the frozen frame on the television of the girl-on-girl kiss scene you were watching. "It's not weird at all to watch porn on your boss' couch while you have a picture of her son next to you."

"Oh, my god, I'm not watching porn. This is just some horror movie on Hulu," you turned bright red, reaching for the remote and shutting off the film. "Well, either way, I won't tell my mom you're drinking her bourbon and watching softcore lesbian porn in her living room as long as you don't tell my mom I stop by here sometimes when she's out of town. I have a long weekend, and I just wanted to get away from my dormmates and come spend some time alone here," Chris told you.

"It's not porn.. whatever," you shook your head, giving up trying to defend yourself. "Your secret is safe with me," you said, taking in all his aesthetically pleasing features. "You don't mind if I hang out and stay the night here, do you? I just drove like two and a half hours, and I'm pretty tired," he bit his lip at you, and you nearly melted.

"No, I don't mind. After all, it is your house." Chris plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. "You smoke?" He asked, looking up at you. "Yeah," you responded, sitting back down on the couch beside him.

"Smoke this joint with me on the deck?" He offered, while he packed the paper full of ground weed. "Sure," you accepted. He looked into your eyes while he licked and sealed the joint. "Follow me," he muttered as he stood up and started to make his way to the back door that led out to the wooden deck that wrapped around the back-half of the house.

The rain had let up by now, but the scent still lingered in the air. The two of your found yourselves leaning over the railing, staring up at the full moon and the few stars that were visible between the clouds while you passed the lit joint back and forth.

"Guess I should have asked this before I invited you to smoke with me, but how old are you?" He wondered. "Twenty-one. How about you?" You asked, giving him the joint back after blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Same. You like working for my mom?" He wondered, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, actually. You know, everyone really respects her because she's a little bit of a hard ass, but she's really understanding. She doesn't treat us like cogs in her machine like some of my former employers. She treats us like we're actually human," you shrugged. "That's been my experience with her, too. She's a no-bullshit type of woman. Kind of hard on you when you need it. But a really caring and genuine person," Chris told you, taking another hit.

"What are you studying in school?" You asked him. "I've changed my major like a dozen times because I can't focus on any one thing, but right now, I'm leaning towards something in finance," he replied.

"I like the taste of these rolling papers," you told him. "Yeah? They're vanilla," he responded. "That's the best flavor. Except when it comes to sex," you mumbled under your breath and giggled. "Oh, yeah?" Chris raised his eyebrows and glanced at you, smiling and shocked to hear you say such a thing. "How freaky are you?" He asked, taking another puff off the joint.

"Well, freaky is subjective," you started off. "And that's how I know you're a freak," Chris glared in your direction, still smiling. "If you'd given me a definitive no, when then, that answers that question. If you'd given me a definitive yes, that could have meant that your definition of freaky is like getting your hair pulled while you're in doggy or something," he replied, passing you back the doobie. "Well, I do like that," you chuckled. "Yeah, but what other freaky shit are you into?" Chris' curiosity had been sparked.

"I'm not telling you. I just met you," You widened your eyes at Chris and shot him an embarrassed smile. "You're the one that brought it up. I'll tell you what I'm into if you tell me what you're into," Chris promised, dying to hear you confess all your naughty fantasies to him. You rolled your eyes at him while you heavily blushed.

"Okay, fine. I really like being tied up, spit on, choked, slapped around, having my hair pulled.." You started to say, but your voice trailed off. "What else, pretty girl? I can tell you're holding back with me," Chris lowered his gaze to your lips. "Well, you might judge me," you said, taking a puff of the joint and returning it to Chris. "I don't kink-shame," Chris chuckled in a low voice.

"Okay, well I like being degraded, humiliated, talked down to, that kind of thing," you responded, nibbling on your lip and looking for Chris' reaction. "Keep going," he encouraged you, intrigued to hear what else you were going to say. "I kind of get turned on by things that would scare the average person. Like knives, blood, and like being chased. Stuff like that," you admitted, gazing down at the ground, afraid of what he'd think of you.

"Such a little whore," he said in a seductive tone. Your heart raced, and you peered up at him. "What a coincidence, because I like degrading and humiliating girls like you, and I love to hunt my prey before I fuck it," Chris curled his lips into a menacing smile while his dark eyes piercing through you. He put out the joint and clenched his jaw at you waiting for you to say something, but the words were caught in your throat.

"I mean, I'm making assumptions here, but I think you're into me, and I think you want me to chase you," Chris sneered at you, tilting your chin up at him. You hesitantly nodded your head. "You can be my little fawn, and I'll be the hungry coyote," Chris cooed, running his thumb along your bottom lip that was pink with arousal. You nodded again. He took a few steps closer to you until you could feel the warmth coming off his body.

"Just remember. I know this forest better than you do, princess," his words triggered the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. "In honor of Halloween, your safeword is Beetlejuice."

You weren't sure how long you'd been running for. It could have been forty-five seconds, or it could have been ten minutes. You felt disoriented, your perception seemingly disconnected from reality as time seemed to fold in on itself. The smell of wet dirt filled your senses as you got a face full of it. You placed both of your hands on the soil and grass beneath you to prop yourself back up onto your feet, but your shoelace was still stuck.

Instead, you scooted yourself down towards your feet, frantically reaching around for the branch you were caught on. After fiddling around with it for a few seconds, you whispered to yourself, "Shit." You ultimately decided to pull your shoelace untied, and tried to knot it back up quickly before getting to your feet and bounding further into the woods.

You weren't sure if you were even running the right way or if you were tracing your footsteps back from where you just came. That's when you heard his footsteps, dead autumn leaves crushing under his weight, and you whipped around in the direction you heard the crunch.

You hoped it was the attractive boy you just met, stealthily setting his sights on you through the trees where he could see you but you couldn't see him, rather than an actual coyote, but you expected him to chase you and tackle you right away. Instead, he was behaving like a four-legged wild animal - stalking you. Hunting you.

You heard a few more brittle leaves and twigs crack as he slowly stepped closer to you. You took off, sprinting as fast as you could, still a bit unsure about what was chasing you. He was hot on your heels, and you made it only a few more feet before he lunged forward, grappling you to the forest floor.

You fell on your stomach, and the pressure knocked the air out of you. You were almost relieved when you felt human hands tearing at your clothes, and you heard Chris whisper, rasping in your ear from behind you, "Gotcha!" He ripped your shirt off of your torso in a swift motion, and you gasped as you tried to get away from him, but his hands were strong, and he had all his body weight on you, his erection stabbing you in the backside as you squirmed, digging your nails into the soil beneath you.

You grew increasingly wet as you heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and his zipper. Then he tugged your shorts down and took them off you. He didn't waste his time, pulling your panties to the side and lining his length up with your entrance.

He roughly pushed into you, causing you to sharply inhale and whimper as he started moving his hips back and forth, stretching you out. You'd been caught and defeated, but you loved every second of the way Chris took you. You began arching your back and leaning back into the boy while he fucked you senseless.

You could hear his deep, animalistic grunts in your ear and you could feel his hot, shallow breath on the back of your neck. You couldn't conceal how much you loved it. You threw your head back and let out a few loud, satisfied sounds.

Your hands and your knees dug into the soft ground beneath you while you graciously took Chris' rod. He pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass echoed throughout the forest and reverberated through your body. Chris placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed the side of your face into the dirt while he began to fuck you harder.

"You fucking love it, don't you? Such a worthless little cunt," Chris grunted breathlessly. You responded by rolling your eyes back into your head and moaning at his words. "I'm gonna flip you around, slut, and if you try to run away from me, it's not gonna go well for you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

As soon as he pulled himself out of you and went to grab you and turn you onto your back, you jumped up and took off running in nothing but your thong and your sneakers. You couldn't wait to see what he had in mind.

"Bitch!" Chris growled as he pulled up his pants and started chasing after you again. You didn't get far before he tackled you to the ground again and flipped you onto your back. "What did I fucking tell you? Defiant little brat. You're gonna be sorry you ran from me," Chris chuckled under his breath as he nudged your legs open and pinned both your wrists above your head with one of his strong, veiny hands.

You watched Chris pull something out of his pocket, and you noticed the way the moonlight bounced off of it and made it glimmer. It was something long and metal. As well as sharp, you noted as Chris started teasing you with it. He took the blade and started running it along the center of your rib cage.

He brought the knife up to your chest and started grazing the curve of your breasts. Your breath quickened. You shuddered at the feeling of the cool metal as he subtly grazed your nipples with it. He did this over and over until adrenaline was flowing through you. You were both worried and excited that he may actually draw blood.

He dragged the cold, sharp edge down your stomach and replaced the tantalizing feeling of the blade against the sensitive buds on your chest with his soft, pouty lips. He engulfed each nipple, swirling his tongue around and eliciting sweet whines from you while the knife grazed the insides of your thighs. You felt it rest up against your vulva through your panties, and suddenly, Chris took the switchblade, hooked it into the strap of your underwear, and sliced them off of you.

You gasped and squirmed beneath him, fear and excitement flooding your system. The forest was so eerily quiet besides the sounds of your desperate mewls that Chris could hear your heartbeat. "Do you trust me?" Chris whispered in a creepy voice as he took the switchblade and held it up to your neck, nestling his cock back into your sweet, wet pussy.

You barely knew him, but you had to trust him. After all, he was weilding a weapon and holding it about an inch away from your carotid artery and one subtle move, purposeful or accidental, could end your life or at the very least, put you in critical condition. "Yes," you managed to choke out.

"Your pussy is all mine. You're nothing more than my little cock sleeve. Isn't that right?" Chris degraded you while he thrusted into you, still holding your wrists down overhead. It turned you on even more that you were letting a stranger fuck you, and not just any stranger - your boss' son.

"Fuck, you take daddy's cock so well," he chuckled, causing you to smile and letting your eyes roll back into your head once more. You hadn't even told Chris about your daddy kink, but it's like he could smell it on you. "Yes, daddy," you whined as he pounded deep into you, hitting the spot with every stroke. He knew just what to say and do and how to fuck you just right.

Chris loved the way your cunt swallowed his length perfectly and how warm and wet you were as he did what he pleased. He loved the way you were getting off on your own fear and adrenaline. He could feel you losing control, your body convulsing beneath him and your tight hole rhythmically clenching around him. Waves of euphoria traveled through your veins, filling every one of your senses with pleasure.

"You're so pathetic and needy to cum, aren't you?" Chris cooed in a condescending tone. "Yes, daddy," you whimpered. "I don't know if you deserve to. You've been such a naughty girl," he shot back. "Please, daddy," you whined, squirming around. He relished in the way you begged over and over, flirting with the idea of letting you cum with every desperate plea that escaped your lips.

"Beg harder for it, slut," Chris replied in a deep voice. "Daddy, please, I need it," you cried out. He delivered a few more hard thrusts before he gave in to your whining. "Okay, fine. Cum on my daddy's cock, slut," Chris huffed, pressing the knife to your neck with just a bit more pressure.

All you needed were those magic words, and you reached the point of no return. Your orgasm swept you under like a strong current you couldn't stop, carrying you in its flow, and you surrendered to the feeling. It ripped through you mercilessly, leaving you in a pool of your own drool and cum. You spasmed around Chris' cock while you finished onto him.

The way your body reacted tipped Chris over the edge as well, sending him through the same euphoric sensations. He loudly moaned, slammed his eyes shut, and slacked his jaw before he pulled out and finished all over your stomach. He admired the way the moonlight caught his load and made it glitter against your flesh. "Fuck, I needed that," Chris breathlessly mumbled, squeezing out every last drop.

He switched the blade shut, put it back into his pocket, and pulled up his pants while the two of you caught your breath. Your legs were numb, and you couldn't think straight, recovering from the thrilling experience. You laid still for a few moments, your gaze fixed on the stars that were scattered overheard and barely visible through the storm clouds.

Chris grabbed you, slung your naked and mud-covered body over his shoulder, and then climbed to his feet to carry you back to the house. "Don't worry. I know exactly where we are. I'm gonna get you back safe."

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #kinktober #Spotify

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kooyabooya · 2 months ago

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SECRETS & SPELLS

m reader x kazuha ; sakura // 14k words

“Really,” and you’re saying this with the most unimpressed look on your face, knowing Sakura’s bullshit could never get to you that easily, “And here I thought we had something special going on between us,” you tell her with a gesture of a hand, signifying the rapport.

She laughs at that, because deep down you’ll put up with her antics in the end either way. Whether it would be spilling a few drinks down her throat or splitting her open until the crack of dawn breaks into the horizon, you’ll get the last say before she does. Always.

“Do tell,” says Sakura, “Besides, you’ve got my number on speed dial.”

It’s actually a pretty funny thing how the sacred law of attraction works in these kinds of scenarios; at least, that’s what you’ve learned when Sakura barged into your life from completely out of nowhere. This might come off as unexpected: you’re the TA for one of the design courses, and Sakura happened to be one of the top students in the class with the highest probability to break through into the fashion industry come post-grad.

And at every turn since the beginning of the semester, she has managed to impress you amazingly.

Everything’s all lighthearted at the first meeting - the usual buzz about this stellar connection you have with Sakura - and she feels the same sentiment. The feedback is subtle; the compliments start to pile on one another; you’re noticing features in her appearance that might be falling into the obvious scope of things, but you take note of them either way.

Wasn’t that long until you’ve mustered up the courage to treat her out after she came to you for additional advice and pointers and such from one of her personal projects. Although the first date was an absolute train wreck to your standards, she was willing enough to come back around for more.

One meeting happens again, and another.

Then the next one.

And the next one.

The weeks start to mesh together aside from all the usual routines and responsibilities filling up your schedule and calendar. But you’ve managed to set time aside whenever possible because that’s all part of having fun with someone like her. And sure, you’re waiting for that Friday to hit every time because it relieves you of anything for a short period; it’s also safe to say that you’re not the only one.

So you learn a lot of things about Sakura. More ways than you would like.

And it’s not even worth blaming the lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol. A test drive of sorts, the natural course of thoughts coming out from your brain and channeling that to your words and actions whenever you’re around her, there’s that appreciation in the honesty - wondering where has this girl been all your life?

Because Sakura falls in a lot of ways. Ways that you would never have expected:

“For one thing,” you’re telling her while being roped deeper into the club by her hand, “I don’t think the number 1-800-hot-n-fun was a viable one to go with, by the way.” She twists her head around once getting past the foyer, opening up from the inside to scattered crowds spaced away from the dance floor. As expected for a Friday night to no surprise - the thrumming of your eardrums in response to the overpowering bass proving a clear struggle in terms of discernibility.

“Do I have to remind you again?” Sakura tells you, loosening the grip as you’ve managed to get in close proximity, unfazed when your body is practically on top of hers, passing through the crowd, “We’re doing that thing with Miss ‘you - know - who’. Unless you’re asking me to just leave your ass back in the apartment, but oh wait - you're already here with me as it is.”

“Sure.” And that’s how things like these usually go with her: you’ll be doing one thing, then the familiar contact on your phone pops up on your lockscreen. Some days you’d drop whatever you were doing in a heartbeat - if it was willing to kill time or procrastinate, she’d know your answer already. “Drop the code name. You’re not being really inconspicuous with-”

“Kazuha? But it fits the profile perfectly!” She’s beaming, exchanging a few glances with some regulars hovering outside the dance floor, her face lighting up with wide eyes andan open an open mouth.

“But seriously,” you say, and with as much sarcasm that you could pull out of your ass, “I thought that was a one-time thing with her.” Sakura rolls her eyes, spearheading to one of the booths on the far end of the dance floor, secluded in a suspicious corner where no one else would end up unless being escorted off with enough shots in their system to do so in the first place.

And you learn - with Sakura, nothing is ever a one time thing with her. Ever. She brought you into a trap, the kind where you couldn’t even get out of if you tried.

Like all necessary cues for an entrance, this one doesn’t really have a notable introduction since you’re the one that’s interested without actually saying it explicitly. The lone girl sitting in the booth catches your eye, spacing out with the colorful floating lights occasionally hitting her face as she appears to be breaking a sweat despite her stoic expression.

She looks nervous, probably flustered at the fact that she’s even in the dance club considering how flushed her face looks without the color. You look over to Sakura, to which she smiles with her eyes, already feeling the stage being set for what’s to come.

“You sure you want to leave this as a one - off?” She asks, combing down some of her hair while waving at the girl in the booth. “Think of this as a chance to redeem yourself with her - her - I mean, me.”

“Not everything has to be about you. Acting as the lynchpin when you also want to join in on the fun as well.”

Sakura nicks her head, that prying grin coming at the corner where you can’t see it up front. She studies your features, the way your face crinkles at every remark or sly comeback that leaves her lips, priming those synapses ready and raring for how she wants this night to go. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen. It worked last time, and it’ll work again.”

With all thoughts considered, it all leads to one inevitable conclusion:

“I’d love for you to work her over again, like you did before,” she husks, lazily placing her lips along the line of your jaw. The nerve ends down your neck and spine tingling at the contact as your feet move along with hers, approaching closer to the lone girl waiting at the table, locking irises and noticing her pulled lip. “And just for your information, she’s so into you.”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around with him?” Kazuha butts in, sliding over a subtle appetizer of some casual chips and assorted dips; the duo of Arnold Palmers is also quick to follow soon after. “I mean, you’re the one who likes to kiss everybody, Sakura.”

“Not true,” she rebukes. “But I-”

“If you want to test that theory,” you’re telling the both of them, smiling with eyes trained alternating on looks, sipping a bit of the beverage down, “I think both of you would be convinced to take this somewhere that allows more misbehavior to happen.”

It’s not that you’re not able to remember the events of last night. It’s the fact that you can’t remember what took place last night at all.

Though your memory starts to stir back to normal at the floating pair of lips hovering over and around your face in the late morning going into the afternoon.

You’re squinting from the overbearing light that breaks through the curtains and and the ambient sounds of traffic in the distance from the open window. There’s also the realization that the mobility in your body is severely hammered, and with good reason.

A look up past the sheets, and it’s a body pressed next to yours, sprawled with an arm and leg thrown over your thigh and stomach, still trying to be mindful in care not to wake you. She looks up at you with doe eyes before fluttering them shut and nestling deeper into the side of your chest, rubbing her hand across the more she gets comfortable.

“About time you woke up,” she mumbles, giggling at you, plopping your head back onto the pillow. “I was wondering if you were actually dead or something, not that I would be worried of course.”

“And if I was?” The question alone is alone is rhetorical as it sounds, blinking up towards the ceiling while adjusting your body meshed into the mattress and in between the sheets, “I feel like you could’ve put in a little more effort to, well, bring me back to life.”

This girl then sits up, lets the comforter trickle down to her waist, exposing her breasts; the marks still apparent from the night prior, serving to be a good kickstarter for your memory now that most of the alcohol should’ve subsided by now. “Maybe I should’ve put more effort into that, the same way that you handled us,” she tells you, “God, you really don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“Sakura,” you say, and you’re calling her out with a soft laugh bubbling beneath your stomach.. “I’d hate to be honest with you, but I can’t even remember the amount of drinks we had at the place. That’s how you know it’s bad if you were in my shoes.”

“But you were still sober enough to dick me down after a long week?”

You don’t give an answer to Sakura’s question, but the way her actions do the talking should already say enough: placing kisses on your shoulder, shuffling herself closer to you, hand slithering to a certain spot where it’s also jogging your memory.

“Sweetie,” you tell her, a dragged - out sigh leaving your lips once Sakura’s practiced fingers start to touch down around your half-hardened cock. “You wouldn’t mind helping me remember what we did last night, right?”

Well, of course, she’d say, but instead she laces that phrase in the form of a kiss. Knowing her, she’d be willing to assist in whatever it is that you do. A transactional service: you do one thing for her and she’d do the same. And the repayment could really come in a handful of methods, but this one usually takes top of the list.

“I don’t,” Sakura answers, giggling softly when you’re trying to push for more, leaning your head to meet her lips, her pulling away just to play a little tease. “As much as I would love to help you, I can’t be the only one to do all the work around here. It tarnishes your gentlemanly appearance, but that’s what I think.”

You pull one of her legs up, shifting her closer to you when she has her lips working you again, hand twisting deliberately around your cock. The pace alone is strategic and slow, but very well practiced and methodical, licking up her palm to ensure she’s soaking up the sensitive surface in every spot possible.

She also takes the hint with the sliding hand up her waist, straddling over your thighs to where you’re almost pinned against the headboard, grip still apparent around your shaft, keeping steady the more she scooches her hips up beneath your groin. You get lost in the valley of her waist, the defined abs well deserved from the hard work in the gym, the gaze she possesses with those lovely, messy locks in her hair, the pure seductiveness with her hand grazing her breast. You’re being pulled back in with another intoxicating kiss, filled with so much care and and love, and all of that to be replaced with undesirable lust that seems to entrap both of you like the heavenly light breaking through the thin curtains in your room.

The taste, the scent of her - still present from last night’s tales - are another reminder and trick for your mind to work around against the lingering after effects of the alcohol.

“Is it working?” She asks, holding herself just above your length with hands fast around your neck, “Or do you still need some help getting your memory up to speed?”

Sakura then reaches over to the nightstand, a Polaroid captured in between her pointer and middle finger, eyes slanted along with her face, watching you examine the picture in the small snapshot. Another fragment is obtained through this, internalizing the appearance of her marked - up body sprawled up on the same bed you’re lying in, with another body next to her but the face isn’t shown.

Just as you’re about to say your answer, she catches you by surprise, the press of her lips on you again, hips jumping up in impulse when her pussy settles on top of the underside of your shaft, hands naturally trained to her hips as the slow pecks eventually become more inviting, passionate.

Maybe the home remedies would’ve been a sufficient option to cure your hangover, but with Sakura, she herself is the best kind of morning after pill that you’ll take the chance over if the opportunity presents itself like it has right now. Her kisses become more intoxicating, hoping that you’ll want her in the same fashion that she’s emitting - a being that’s blessed with a wanting so addicting, it’s impossible to think twice about it. Your mouth makes its way down the fine column of her throat and then to her chest, marking up the same spots as you did the night before, tugging onto one of her stiff nipples with your teeth.

The grip in your hair with her fingers starts to become tighter, forcing her body onto you more. She holds you there, cheek pressed to the crown of your head, the moans proving to be positive feedback for you, grinding her hips slightly over your cock, making your grasp more protective of her, as if you didn’t want her to leave your presence whatsoever.

She captures your lips again, hands now on both ends of your face, humming in approval when yours find their way to her ass, clawing your fingertips on the soft skin, setting the tempo of how her pussy lips glide across your cock, bathing it in her slick, and a small feeling of what’s to come in the passing minutes. Her teeth clash with yours on accident, laughing as she scaffolds her kisses down to your cheek, to the pulsepoint, on your trap, biting lightly as a proud badge of honor. Pulling away, she bites her lip, placing another kiss before pressing you back to the wall.

“Saku,” you sputter, gasping out when her hips slide forward, pressing herself down on your cock that tenses all of the muscles in your legs, straightening them out beneath the sheets for a moment. “Fuck, you–”

“Shh,” she says, finger on your lips.. “It’s helping a lot, right?” Her hand sliding down your chest, nails grazing across your skin riddled with goosebumps, probably because of how cold the room has gotten but at the same time how the heat between your two continues to build up. “I gave you two hints already, so do what you will with that.”

“I think it is coming together,” you say, puppy dog eyes in amazement with how Sakura keeps your chin tilted up while the movement of her hips hypnotizes you. “But seriously, holy fuck, I-”

Sakura pays no attention to your spills of cutoff praise, a moan from her lips and yours let out in unison when she rubs her clit right at the tip, hunching her back over, your face getting caught between the figurative net that is her tits, drawing another mark with your teeth and soothing it after with the flat plane of your tongue.

If she’s not careful, this right amount of pressure from her pussy over your aching cock might spell disaster for you before even getting started with resuming last night's activities. Her body is already becoming a live wire to feed off on; the taste and how responsive she’s been so far, you’ll play into it for as long as she allows it.

Luckily, she knows your body well enough as hers, stopping herself as she scooches down. The trail of kisses coming back with the first couple scattering their way down from your lips, cheeks, and neck, now down to the chest. Every touch of her lips across the canvas of your body only sends your mind deeper into that endless barrel of delusion and madness from the fantasies you’ve discovered with Sakura.

It might also be worth mentioning how she substituted her pussy for her hand again, dainty fingers well placed around your shaft again, pulling it upwards as she buries herself beneath the sheets, lips now planting kisses at the hip and down to the thigh, then turning her attention to your twitching cock.

You could feel the muscles in your ass clench underneath her body, watching with the comforter raised up to hide her from the open doorway, focused on how her breath grazes along your underside, carefully working her way up to place a chaste kiss to your tip, her tongue getting the first tastes of her favorite snack, swallowing the head first.

She then inches down a bit, pulling herself up and out, tongue swirling and well trained. The feeling settles in static breaths, watching her be grateful for the reward she’s worked hard for in the short span of time. Her head lowers for another second, you lift your hips up to meet in the middle for her, and she stares at you with glossy eyes.

The comforter gets lowered as your hands find themselves onon Sakura’s wrists.

“Saku,” you groan automatically. Sakura’s eyes flutter in approval when she slides her puckered lips further down your length. The tiny press of her perfect lips, her tongue again slathering up the underside again, tracing a vein.

Her hand finds itself at the base, building up a rhythm in her bobs that you’re all too familiar with. Tongue and the opening past her mouth and into the throat, moving in every move imaginable that she knows that you love and like.

And it’s also this double-edged sword - a blessing or curse on her terms, how the vibrations coming from her vocal cords wrap around your cock whilst in her mouth, letting you know how ravishing you are for her cravings.

“Keep the comforter over me.” Sakura commands, purring. Mixing in the swiping of her tongue as well as the erotic kisses she’s spoiling your cock with. Her head goes sideways, treating to one side of the base, dipping down to take one of your balls in her mouth. She’s also aware of how much you like your blowjobs to be wet, so it’s no surprise when she spits all over your cock, ensuring that no spot was left untouched with her saliva.

You do as she says, letting your hands rest beneath the sheets along with Sakura; the view of the room now opened up past the obstruction, watching as the small bump between your legs indicated Sakura’s head, slowly feeling her head working her way down your cock, gasping when you feel the tip of her nose meet your stomach.

She laughs with a mouthful of cock in her mouth still when she hears the sound of the back of your head hitting the wall, gripping the fuck out of her wrist on your leg to let her know that she’s doing wonders - in addition to the tension in your hips, bucking as she’s putting enough effort to take all of you down her throat, shifting her head side by side with the small chokes minimized with the comforter over her.

The pace comes back, but this time with more variety. A hand is wrapped around your shaft, holding it in one spot while her mouth takes you right at the half, gagging as the suction deepens. She’s managed to have your cock slicked up enough to where her fingers are easy to swivel around, doubling down on the stimulation.

Sakura isn’t one to really be forward when it comes to 'relieving your stress’, but with the amount of practice that she’s had from past experiences,, that thread of thoughts continues to open different avenues to sit on a balcony and ponder on. Earlier this week she felt compelled to have you bust all over her face because of how hot you looked while doing a virtual meeting on the couch; you’re picturing the image in your head - how she looks so good with your lips on you, so practiced, mouth pressuring all the right spots and tongue slicing through a vein and maybe lower.

“Baby, baby, holy shit,” you’re moaning out again, getting a response from Sakura’s filled-up mouth, picturing the furrowed eyebrows and half-lidded eyes beneath the sheets. She moves your hands up from her wrists and into her hair, prompting you to shove the best inches down into her throat, much to the point where you’re nearly sitting upright to do so.

This isn’t something to think too hard about: thrusting your hips into Sakura’s face in the morning - into that sweet heat of her mouth, how her nails are creating crevices in your skin, relaxing her mouth and throat enough to stuff nearly all of your length to that one hole of hers. You know that she could go on with this for as long as you’d like, instinctively helping her part a few stray fringes in her hair without even being able to see it. She’s sometimes worried if you’re hurting yourself with every deepthroat she does to you, assuring that having no gag reflex makes these bits in the whole experience a whole lot more pleasurable.

“Mmph.”

“This fucking mouth of yours, Saku,” you mumble, not paying any care to the increased volume of gags or the purring vibration of her open mouth creating this vacuum within your stomach - since the addicting suction and clench were about to send you into oblivion.

“Mmmmph…”

“God,“ you choke out. One thing you don’t want to accept to yourself or to anyone, for that matter: this was the best fucking way to wake up.

“So fucking good,” she mumbles.

Another thing you’d hate to admit sometimes is the fact that even though you've been restricted from seeing Sakura take in your cock so well underneath the sheets, that’s traded in for how fast you could feel yourself coming undone again. That sense of pride also put you in jeopardy because every lick, plunge, and slip of your length into her mouth was another step in the pattern in transition to holding herself steady. It also doesn’t help that she tilts her head up, poking the head of your cock on the inside of her cheek, swiping the tongue at the underside, and seriously, this woman.

The eerie ringing between your ears starts to pop up randomly, your body getting riddled with every overstimulating feeling being thrown right at it. The slickness in her mouth, the grip around the root becoming too tight, the gags becoming intense - your mouth is hanging low as your eyes begin to roll up to the back of your head. She doesn’t plan on playing it safe, and the edge is rapidly getting to you; it’s too fast, too soon, okay, oh fuck, oh fuck.

“Saki!” a voice calls out past the open door leading into the hallway. “Where the fuck are you?” Shit, the tone sounds awfully familiar, and you also notice the trail of clothes along the floor. Another fragment from last night flashes in your brain; though, you’re trying to keep focus while Sakura’s heat surrounds your cock as you hear the sound of feet scraping along the hardwood floor.

“Saki, I-” The second girl stops short past the door, phone in her hand and hair tousled, but still presentable. She’s wearing your dress shirt from the night before, unbuttoned and parted perfectly enough to where you could see the inner curve of her tits - her long, creamy thighs stand out to you, making your lowered jaw salivate when she cocks her head to the right out of curiosity, hands behind her back with her tongue buried behind her bottom lip. “Well, what do we have here?”

How could you forget? The additional set of clothes on the floor? The lady next to Sakura’s ruined body covered with cum on the Polaroid photo?

Kazuha. Who else but Kazuha?

“Good morning,” you greet, paying no attention to your hands as they appear to be all over the place before settling themselves above the sheets, just adjacent to the subtle bump where Sakura’s bobbing head was located. “I was wondering where you went off to.”

“I couldn’t really sleep, so I thought it would be a good idea to whip up some food to kill time,” says Kazuha, biting her lip at the sight of your hand resting above the oddly shaped form between your legs and underneath the sheets. “You wouldn’t mind if I asked: Where the heck is Saki?”

“Well,” you try to say, pretending to be oblivious while the heat of Sakura’s mouth trails your mind off into dreamland. “I’ll give it to you straight; she’s not here.”

“Uh huh,” Kazuha breathes, unamused. “Really though, where did she go?” She asks, raising herself up on her tiptoes, slowly migrating closer to the edge of the mattress, noticing the heels hanging out of the edge. “I could’ve sworn she was next to you when I woke up.”

“She was,” you reply, keeping that sly smile from breaking out in the frame of your face. “I don’t know if you checked the bathroom if she’s there, but that’s one place to start looking if you ask me.”

Kazuha pays no attention to your answer, only keeping her eyes fixed on the pair of feet at the edge of the matter, palming an area for what appears to be Sakura’s calf, which makes her stop her controlled bobbing around your cock for a moment, stunned at the sudden press of Kazuha’s hand pulling her head back off of your soaked shaft, gulping because she knows that she got caught.

A look under the sheets, and Kazuha laughs, locking eyes with you while the offering of a sheepish grin is all that you could give her. “Really?” she asks, examining beneath the white layer to only see Sakura laying on her stomach, bare ass between your legs while you eventually call the act off, lifting off the sheets to give Kazuha a better look at Sakura’s head buried between your thighs, hand still well gripped into the threads of her hair. “If you guys are going to start the fun without me, then don’t even bother hiding it.”

“We weren't hiding anything at all,” teases Sakura, dipping her head down your cock again that makes you clench at the feeling of her throat.

“Pretty much seems that way to me.” Kazuha retorts.

“Who was the one who woke up early again?”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” You inquire, combing Sakura’s messy hair down while she moves her wrist around your length to occupy herself, causing you to shudder at the delicate touch. “I mean, Jesus, I guess Saku here couldn’t really help herself to me.”

“She’s the worst.” Kazuha declares, slipping out of your dress shirt, now left with nothing but those lacy black pants she slipped on.

“He worked you over; let me remind you,” Sakura replies, bearing a smug grin when she looks over towards you. “You finished on her back, and before that, you finished on me twice.”

The corner of your eye picks up on Kazuha getting back on the bed, shuffling with her knees as she approaches closer to you. You remember again that she’s relatively well known in your circle of friends, considering the fact that she’s one of the four girls that you’re relatively affiliated with around campus. She’s only a year younger than you, but good friends with Sakura (obviously); and there’s also the duo of Chaewon and Yunjin, the pair of them also crazy in their own rights, respectively.

“Your point being?” The question gets both of their attention, exchanging looks when Kazuha finally reaches to you, guiding your hand to her waist and around her back, Sakura placing neat kisses across your obliques, cock still welded to her hand and stroking gently.

“I guess the golden question should be asked again,” says Sakura, bending her neck down to lightly tap the tip of your cock to her pouty lips. “Where do you think you’ll finish today? On our face? Down our throats? Our backs? Or maybe…”

“Maybe…” Kazuha teases, lifting her hands with yours up to her face, rubbing the pad of your thumb across her bottom lips, lightly sucking on it that’s insanely hypnotic. “Maybe he could finish inside us?”

(Sakura and Kazuha: birds of a feather. You can’t fathom with the fact sometimes that they’ll act like angels, dress like crazy, and only have you around to tug the clothes off of them, as they’re babbling listlessly about how you’ll pin one of them down (or both) on the carpet, make paintings with your tongue all over their bodies; the taste of each more exquisite in every round you take them on, fucking them on any article of furniture within reach. )

Kazuha’s not even remotely close to you. You and her are just surface-level friends at best. Heck, she’s only a mere acquaintance in the swing of things, if you want to read deeper into the personal analysis of each other. The only line of connection you have with her is through Sakura. And from the last outing being a solid first impression for all parties involved, you’d laugh to yourself at times because Kazuha could never have enough of you and Sakura.

“Kazuha, sweetie,” Sakura purrs, pulling her head up with a string of spit still attached to her chin. “You’ve had your fill with him already, literally.” And as she says that, you feel all of the muscles and bones in your body practically melt through the mattress beneath you from the overall presence and weight that these two women have. These two perfect dolls - imagining how their bodies will bend and crumple when you bury your cock inside both of them, shutting one up with the other’s cunt over their mouth. Sakura’s mouth has already made you want to test that edge, and with Kazuha’s?

“I think we should let him decide who to dump his cum into, no?” Sakura suggests soon after pulling Kazuha’s body next to hers, allowing you to admire the live Renaissance painting taking place before you. She then pats Kazuha’s shoulders twice, much like something straight out of practice: Kazuha quick to get on top of your waist while Sakura scooches down to hold your cock tried and true back into her mouth, the pleasure instantaneous as Kazuha’s lips find yours for the first time today.

Kazuha’s arms slither over the bridge of your collarbones, letting you indulge in her perky tits, trying to keep your focus on her while Sakura begins to up the ante again in scarfing up your cock.

“I wanted you all to myself when I woke up first,” Kazuha says, tangling her fingers in your hair, softly moaning when you’re leaving sporadic marks all over her tits, capturing your lips again as you involuntary groan into her mouth, to which she receives it incredibly well. “But you were sleeping so soundly, I decided to leave you be.”

You’re also wondering about the different things you had on your to-do list in your phone. Out of all times, why in the hell were you thinking about that now? You’ve got your personal love interest inhaling your cock by the second, with another friend in your arms who’s willing to be your personal fuckbuddy just for the sake of it.

Kazuha’s features break a bit when you’ve got your lips catered to the stiff buts of her nipples, hands wandering across that toned back of hers, tracing the shoulder blades while the grasp in your fingers starts to crunch at the fine skin.

“I think,” she husks, listening to the occasional gags Sakura’s doing on your cock continuously. “Maybe you’ve been wanting my mouth for a bit too now, huh?”

(Well, yeah. I mean-)

Kazuha quickly takes the hint right out of your mind, mirroring the same pathway of kisses that Sakura did not long ago, the same waves of pleasure mixed in with the return of goosebumps spreading across your body, hands still unsure where they play as they’re suspended in the air, giving way as Sakura slips your cock out of her mouth, twisting at the crown once Kazuha meets in the middle.

The gaze they give you, from the both of them, exchanging glances with each other because these two share a brain cell together - that’s the simple assessment to observe when you’re left speechless.

Thank God you cleared your morning from whatever schedule that was initially planned, because it wouldn’t have led to having these two in your bed wanting all of you.

“Do I still have a say in this?’ You attempt to ask, studying how their eyes are full of infectious lust, the creeping grin spreading across their lips. “To be fair, I think I also need to get some morning stretching in before getting on with the morning.”

“Oh, you’ll get your stretching in.” Sakura muses.

“You won’t be saying anything from this point on,” declares Kazuha.

No point in arguing against the pair; the verdict has already been decided.

Sakura slides her hands up across your chest, laying you back down while Kazuha shuffles down to the original spot where Sakura was occupying, eyes drawn to the peek of Kazuha’s tongue on your cock, switching in between kisses and licks.

A difference between Kazuha and Sakura when it came to blowing you: Sakura knew the different kinds of tricks from experimenting in the past couple months - what worked and what didn’t. Kazuha, on the other hand, was just yearning for the taste of you in her mouth, sealing her lips with the right press, eager to pick up where Sakura left off. It shouldn’t be making you feel like putty, but that’s exactly the case when she bottoms your cock out, clenching her throat that makes you twitch at the hip joints.

Sakura gets a hand around your length, tethering you to one angle, Kazuha dipping down with just her mouth, with every bob up being met with a palm twisting around your shaft. The sounds that rumble from deep within your chest are enough proof that the thin walls surrounding you three won’t be quiet for any longer.

Though your muscles could only stay tense for so long due to the fascinating clench, with Sakura joining back in on the fun that makes you fall slack to the mattress. She’s picking back up with kisses in certain areas of your groin where Kazuha has only glossed over, tongue well working up the seam of your balls, popping on in her mouth while Kazuha’s face is perpendicular, shifting up the side as if she’s playing the flute.

Her brows furrow for a bit when she puts the head of your cock past her pretty lips, hollowing her cheeks for a moment, swirling the tongue right underneath the tip, enough for you to tense up your length in her mouth, and you’re met with wide eyes, feeling the small release of cum onto her tongue. Kazuha then slips you out for a second, licking her lips as you’re putting everything into your body to not bust this early.

“I think he’s had enough of me, Saki. What do you think?” Kazuha observes, “Do you want more of him again?”

“Is that even supposed to be a question? Let me remind you who’s the sluttiest between the two of us.” Sakura grits, voice laced with a firm determination, as her eyes are now filled with fire building deep within the corneas.

You might be fucked here. But hey, that’s all part of the fun with these two. Remember?

Not that it was any sort of competition, so to speak, but with how they synergize together, the movements of their mouths all over their shaft, guiding one’s mouth over your cock, taking turns, whispering these sweet instructions of ‘hold here’ and ‘right there, baby,’ and even ‘god, spit all over his cock, baby. You know he likes it wet,’ it’s impossible for you to stand tall, the assault on your shaft turning into a monumental task from here on out.

Sakura asserts herself over Kazuha, fingers fast around the base, lowering her jaw enough so that the speed of the bobbing can be much quicker, and it is. Judging from how loudly you ground for the both of them to hear, Kazuha’s hands find themselves on the back of Sakura’s head, grabbing handfuls of hair as she guides her down again, making her swallow you. All of you. Until you could feel the vibrations of her hums rattling down your length and into your lower body.

Kazuha whispers into Sakura’s ear, too difficult to hear since the whines drown out the continuous gagging she’s proffering over your cock, putting her at the base for what feels like an eternity. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. She’s still holding you down with the tightness of her throat, the urge to put your hand over Kazuha’s, prolonging the unbelievable sensation, and three taps to your hip signal that Kazuha’s had enough.

She pulls her head back up, coughing; these destroyed attempts at sobs breaking through the air. You’re left gasping, pressing the back of your head into the pillow beneath you as they both tend to your soaked cock, looking back up as they move in unison for a moment, then switching off different places around the underside while the moans just keep on coming. Hands are also fast to comb back the light obsidian and honey golden locks, not wanting to ruin their flow when they meet to kiss with your cock caught in between the crossfire.

“You girls are something else,” you husk, ears filled with the sounds of their giggles as they both continue with their makeout session, alternating with mouths and occasionally your cock still in both of their hands. The wet kisses being shared were an absolutely wonderful sight to see, and though you forget that you could also have fun for yourself, taking the liberty to press both of their lovely lips on the sides of your shaft, laughing and moaning up and over the length while you just watch. And you keep watching, feeling the puffed-up chest of yours almost rise to where your chin’s at, sucking your gut inwards as your hips do the familiar motion of raising themselves upwards to the both of them.

“He’s ready for us, hmm?” Sakura asks, wiping a patch of drool away from her chin. “Kazu, you get to ride him first. I’ve got to make sure he’s well rewarded for his patience, okay?”

Kazuha nods, watching as she primes herself, touching her slick folds as Sakura shuffles herself up past your chest, getting her thighs buried into your armpits, her pussy hovering right over your face, not wanting to wait another second as you pull her hips down, moaning into her core as Kazuha teases her walls with the head of your cock just for good measure.

“Don’t, fuck, please." Sakura pleads, taken by shock when your tongue swipes up her pussy lips, taking in the sweetness while making note of how slick she’s gotten for you. The pads of your fingers grip on her legs a bit tighter, her nose shifted up to rub her clit slightly, and she yelps. Kazuha laughs right behind her, sinking her warmth over your shaft, eliciting a moan that gets transferred into Sakura’s leaking hole, licking up the folds when Kazuha finally settles your cock into her.

“Shit!”

Sakura clutches her fingers into your hair, moaning to no avail as you quench that thirst you’ve been searching for this entire morning, and she starts to grind her pussy lips across your face, rolling slowly as your mouth hangs open, letting the sounds of rapture spill out of her mouth with every lick you do to her.

“You’re so good,” Sakura moans out, feeling the latch of your lips onto the nub, flattening out your tongue again across her folds, earning another moan in approval. You smile against her hips when your ears are filled with the endless phrases of cursing that you’ve heard way too often, but it never gets old. Ever. “Why are you so... so fucking good at this?”

So you try to speak, but all that’s said is buried underneath the drain of her pussy, moaning out as a proper response as Kazuha picks up her pace in riding your cock, feeling the clash of her hips with yours, bottoming out your length that makes you lock your knees to ensure that the lower half of your body is stable enough for her frame.

Kazuha increases the chances, setting her legs up in a squatting position, keeping herself upright with just her hands on your waist, letting her face onto Sakura’s sweaty back. She lets herself float over you for a minute, taking the chance to catch her breath while you begin to piston her pussy, thrusting upwards. You’re met with a low groan spilled out of Kazuha’s lips in response to your action, only to be drowned out when she lowers her hips to meet with yours, the primal slaps filling up the room and bouncing around the walls.

The inevitability of cumming a full-fledged broken dam into Kazuha’s cunt was a thought filling your mind, but you try to not think too much about it; Sakura’s pussy was still a thing to deal with, maintaining your pace with every lick you do to her clit.

Effort was everything; that was something to keep in mind when it comes to fucking Sakura. She loves it when you get so into it just like her, because you too can’t get enough of ruining this perfect girl every chance you get. Kazuha was also on the same boat, and by how your thighs continue to shake at the weight of her hips coming down on you again and again, it’s impossible to ignore how good she is too - keep it coming, Sakura’s telling you, in the lovely sounds filling up your ears coming from her and Kauhza. You’re fucking me so good, baby. I love it when your cock throbs inside me. Please give it to me. I know you want to.

Kazuha knows you’re close, and Sakura’s not far off in the lost rails of rhythm. Her pussy is flooding on your face, the please becoming more erratic and desparte.

“God, I’m going - I'm going.”

The words coming out of you are buried underneath Sakura’s thighs.

"Fuck, I can’t with your fucking-ah!”

Kazuha does one drive back down your length, and then one more for good measure. Sakura’s hips tremble over your face, quivering and hips trembling as you drag her pussy right across your tongue. Your arms latch somewhere above Sakura’s ass, matching her clutches with the digits buried in your locks, a fire lit under your chest as Kazuha’s cunt grips you like a knot - the heat from their bodies and yours submerging you as if you were in lava. Kazuha bucks forward, face hitting Sakura’s back, holding herself up with her hands as the pounds from thrusting upwards become increasingly unstable, her ravine of a pussy getting you closer and closer to that edge while you can’t even think straight.

A swipe up the tongue on Sakura’s folds. Then three more, nibbling on her clitoral area as her thighs start to press inward from both sides of your head. She keeps grinding, dragging her swollen lips across the ridges of your face, mewling with a hand on the headboard, giggling as she mirrors the movements from grinding on your cock earlier.

Kazuha slams her hips down, and not in a nice fashion since, well, fuck, legitimately, her cunt seizes your cock, smearing her sweet juices all over the rough bits, a vein that’s concealed with her walls, keening when she feels the swollen head shoved up inside her twitch that really makes her feel like mash. Her nails are ripping apart the skin on your stomach, searching for a hold to grab on to. It’s all futile when your body’s elevated to a temperature where there’s glistening sweat all over - her hands slip off and land on the cushions, priming the angle where you’ve hit before, fucking her deeper. She hisses when your balls lightly tap the pucker of her ass, just a bit, but that turns her on so much more.

“This cunt,” you mumble out, mouth still full of Sakura’s pussy, “Kazu, I can’t, babe. Your pussy is unreal.”

“Okay,” Sakura flatly says, “fuck.” And Kazuha just laughs, fluttering her eyes shut when you’ve latched onto the lower part of her thighs. “Keep working on him, Zu. You know he loves your pussy that much, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes, God.”

“Cum inside her.” Sakura instructs, and it’s a bid that you had no second thought of doing. “How nice of her to be your little personal fuckdoll, hm? To just handle her in ways that you want her to, nice and sticky and all fucked out, because you know she’ll come back for more, baby.”

The next move she does is so calculated, you can’t even tell or determine if she did it on the fly: placing Kazuha’s chin on the small divot in her collarbone, the image of her closed eyes, the frizzes in her wavy hair slightly covering part of her face, shaken because of how your hips drive upwards into her. And Sakura just does the simple motion of putting her palm on the side of her face, parting her mouth open while you can only watch with your eyes since the lower half of your face is still attached to Sakura’s pussy.

“Saku,” a frail call in the last seconds, “She feels so good.”

“Fuck your cum into her, baby,” Sakura growls again, clawing the sides of your head as she ruts her hips deeper into your mouth. “That’s the only thing that matters. Until she’s full with the fucking thickness of it.”

You managed to fuck Kazuha through her climax a minute or two ago, and now she’s repaying you by fiddling through yours.

It’s an unraveling feeling when you push past that brink, filling up her tiny cunt with cum, molding her fuckhole to every detail of your member. And she’s mouthing, Sakura’s expression filled with glee, saying, Aw baby, god, yes, would you look at her? She loves it when you fuck a nice load into her, fresh and hot, and-

“Christ,” you grit out, hoarsely, letting the pulses channel out of your body, Dick still grinding the deepest parts of her stomach, cum splattering every spot to be left untouched inside. The throbs are still happening, but with every hold you have, your cock starts to die out in the heat of her hips.

The senses are all over the place when Kazuha slips her pussy off of your cum-soaked cock, Sakura’s hips now hovering above your face, shifting off when you still see the constellations flash in your eyes, vision blurring and deblurring to the image of Kazuha paying no attention to Sakura’s state, sloppily placing her lips with hers again, rough.

These two kiss like friends, maybe friends who have had a little bit too much to drink in order for them to act like this. They’ve done this with Yunjin and Chaewon for sure, based on the stories that you’ve heard. With or without the alcohol, they both show this kind of affection because it's natural, watching as Sakuraa’s hands find Kazuha’s head, Kazuha slithering her arms behind Sakura’s back, letting the passion take over both of their bodies. They both take the time to indulge in each other's features: hands wandering, mouths on nipples, gripping necks and pulling waists closer, Sakura teasing Kazuha’s well-worked cunt, a fingertip soaked with a bit of your cum, licking it cleanly off her fingers.

And the hums. The fucking hums that these two are spilling out. You’re basically drooling when they pick up where they left off with the kissing, paying no attention to you as your hand starts to slowly slide over your cock, palming it before your fingers start to wrap around the length one by one. You’re equally fucked just like them, but there’s no problem with that.

Both of them take as much time as they needed - tender lips and tongues canvassing every part of their exposed bodies, eyes recording every second of this account - in hopes that you can play this back in your mind as Kazuha smiles with full delight to match your expression, drinking in the sight of the show presented right on your lap.

“I think Saku’s ready for you,” Kazuha hushes, lightly dragging her fingertips across the taut line of Sakura’s abs, resting on the underside of her breast, like a showoman who is trying to entice like she’s selling the latest model of a car. Her hand then goes down to Sakura’s clitoral area, rubbing it in circles when the mountains of pillows and sheets are unearthed from the mattress, ruffling and crumpling with the movements of their legs and feet, being pulled by your hand to the edge of the bed. “She made a mess all over your face, didn’t she? Now you’ve got to pay her back.”

You’ve gotten out of bed in a heartbeat multiple times before. One morning was because you were late to class; the other time was to follow the view of Sakura’s bare ass tiptoeing into the kitchen for another meal before starting the day - and here you were, with a rearranged order in what probably feels like slow motion but one constant movement throughout, hand never leaving the meat and bone of Sakura’s ankle, assisting Kazuha by reeling Sakura, who’s shying away, but this is exactly what she wants.

“Our little baby of a whore is deprived of a thick cock filling up her guts,” Kazuha sighs, expression a bit fatigued with the way she’s still coming down from her high. “So do you think you can do me a favor? Stuff up her cunt nice and tuck first, then ruin her after. How does that sound?”

You try to answer, at least, taken aback when Kazuha’s got her long fingers along the line of your hardening shaft and Sakura’s spreading her legs wider and wider. She’s holding you close. Closer. Aiming - tried and practiced - towards the heat of Sakura’s. It’s a hook, line, and sinker when the head of your cockparts her walls, slippery and still leaking, feeling every nerve ending in her hips trickle a thousand volts inside.

“Make her beg for it. I think you’ll be able to fuck her filthy with how she’s wanting to cum for you.” Kazuha’s tone drops down low, almost agitated. “This is payback for what she did to me last time, so I’ll let you be the judge.”

And when the opportunity presents itself for you to determine that said call, it’s never a clear answer from the start if you’re willing to be honest with yourself. The one of many tricks Sakura has on her exposed sleeve, enchanting you with a heavy desire - the kind of want that could never be fully fulfilled. And, even in the days where it does feel like that, it doesn’t even come close to satisfying you.

When you lock eyes with her, wide open to match with her parted mouth, bottoming her all the way with your cock tapping to that spot that has her keening, holding back her sigh as your groin meets the underside of her thighs.

“Feel good, baby?” You ask Sakura, relieved at how she’s come to grips around your shaft burying inside her, head tilting back, clutching on to Kazuha’s forearm as your fingers find their place along her thighs. “Hm,” you assess soon after, inching your cock past the halfway point, “sure looks like it does.”

Sakura’s mouth wobbles, gasping, her eyes draw shut, and her face flushes pink. She takes in your cock so well, the slipping slick of her thighs sounding off this noise of pure squelching; her whole upper body moves up in reaction; stomach bucking, chest puffing up to the open air, pushing in the deep area that has you speechless.

The bottom palm of her hand grazes your groin, adjusting to how your cock molds around her cunt, hands shifting to the underside of the knees, using the rising octaves in her moans to indicate that she’s receptive and expressive in approval. Amidst the growing chaos the lower half of your body is going through, Kazuha takes liberty in massaging Sakura’s breasts, rubbing her stomach as it bloats from the air being exhaled in whines and expletives.

“Ugh, fuck, you." She’s blabbering at this point.

And there’s you, finding your rhythm, your groove, enjoying the way her soft skin maps out across your rough and grainy fingers, how it sinks in so smoothly - much closer to melting, it seems - something of that degree.

“-mhm,” and there’s the “can’t baby, ah, ngh-” with more of, “-dick feels so good.” It’ll fall between the cracks, piercing deep, pulling out and sliding it across her folds just to play as a tease, because she deserves it without any reason, penetrating back in to pick up right where you left off.

Sakura’s body is that one journey that you can never get tired of looking at. How her thighs are just immaculately perfect, that waist offering up those sets of abs on a pedestal, the way her tits rebound on the upstroke when you’ve got past the spot of bottoming her out - where your cockhead grips at the soft spot where it’s been at multiple times, squeezing and swallowing and resting where it should belong in every case with her.

Kazuha shifts her body from the side of Sakura, getting lower to rest her head right above her waist, a trail of kisses circling over her stomach and belly button, getting caught in the throes of pleasure when you realize that Sakura’s got two fingers inside Kazuha, helping her treat herself and assisting the self-induced action.

“God, Saki, look at him all fucked out in your pussy, huh?” Kazuha bites down in an area on her waist just above her cunt, nose brushing down lower to her clit, hand curling around to the bottom of her inner thighs, keeping it out of your way. “She wraps you so well, doesn’t she? Finally getting fucked again after last night?”

“Don’t you know it,” you answer, and there’s no other need to spiel something that’s already been known; Sakura can make you shut the fuck up with her mouth, her cunt, and the way that she talks pure sex. You love how she’s nothing more than mush and warmth. A fine tapestry that’s meant to stay untouched, but you’ll tear all the edges down where the seams have already been shredded.

You get thrown off when Sakura’s pussycle clenches at the hilt, where the contraction captures the air bubbling in your lungs, turning the legs into jelly, and the bobble forward into her lying body on the mattress only punctuates without saying a word. Kazuha laughs at the sudden change in weight on her head, causing you to stand back up with your knees to the bed holding you up, drawing away as Kazuha gazes at your silken cock, soaked with Sakura, lightly teasing when you’re pushing the tip in and out for good measure.

Kazuha rises from her bent state, lazily putting her lips on yours as the pace slows a bit in the lower half of you - darting your cock in with one firm stroke. Hard. The strokes themselves are now more impactful, and ripping, the snap is becoming more assertive. “Fuck, sir, fucking,” Sakura cries out, the coil of her cunt tying you in. Kazuha sets herself back to where she was, resting her cheek on her waist as every entry with your cock, body bouncing on the soaked sheets from all the sweat and leaking slick coming out.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, ah.”

Sakura’s hands hold at her thighs, gyrating upwards at every point where your cock buries at the deepest depth, swelling at the unimaginable clench to where she mewls, wailing but cute at how she’s tuckered out.

“Goodness gracious,’ You spit out, in a half-sob, the moans and utterances and simple replies to Kazuha’s endless mumbling, repeating in one same fashion or the other. “You’re so-so fucking wet, and for what? God-”

“Look at what you did to her,” Kazuha tuts, biting on the inside of her thigh, and Sakura basically yelps. A mix of pain and pleasure, the best of both worlds. You tug yourself out of her cunt, slapping the swollen cockhead on the nub of her clit, sighing at the way she shudders. “Do you think she deserves to finally let go?’

The responses that pass through your lips are just staggered breaths, tumbling down as the slaps start to line up with your heartbeat. A fine point in pace, your internal metronome that only leads to the dwindling doom of your thick cock thrusting Sakura’s tight pussy.

“Love it,” Sakura mutters, head fallen to the provided pillow courtesy of Kazuha; she’s sobbing. “Love your cock, so fucking much.”

“Mhm honey,” and the pet names in themselves are just the ad-libs thrown into the mix, with the right touch of pheromones and increase of dopamine being shot up to the brain. “Get it in there nice and deep; I want her to own it, feel it, because this cock is all hers.”

“-god.”

The riled-up exhale comes in reflection of the ecstasy, every bit of praise coming from Kazuha’s lips playing hand-in-hand with Sakura’s moans filling your ears.

“Think you can hold out a bit longer, Saki? Kazuha croons, head turned the opposite way as she admires the sucked-out gaze Sakura wears on her face, meeting your eyes again. “I’m doing you a favor since he fucked my brains out last time, so be thankful. You greedy bitch.”

“Shut your fucking-ugh.”

“Don’t even think about keeping it in,” Kazuha doubles down, dragging her nails across Sakura’s inner thigh, forcing her legs wide open once more, almost as if she’s doing the splits across the length of the mattress. “He’s so perfect for you, hitting all of the right spots and all the right places? In that creaming pussy of yours? How his fucking fat cock splits you up into oblivion? Come on now, just-”

“My fucking god,” you blurt out, in complete shock at the words that were spilling out of Kazuha’s mouth like emptying an open bucket full of water. “You are a piece of work.”

Kazuha just laughs, taking the compliment to heart, with some mischief still showing with her closed eyelids. Sakura whines, going silent, shaking as your fingers bruise the same spots where the grip on her waist was first.

The lust starts to boil to a point where nothing else is given a second though, and it’s been that way for a while now, fueled with a hunger that could replace the morning cup of coffee with ease, watching as your cock vanishes into Sakura’s pussy, the moans hitting similar notes that are now just echoes of the night prior.

“Ah, uh, almost there." Sakura, once forward in her advances, now reduced to simple begs and pleads, the gaze half-lidded, back arching off the rumples in the sheets. She’s so fucking wet for you, and that’s another mental note that’s circling back in your head for probably the tenth time this morning so far, and might worth mentioning that it’s still in the fucking morning.

“Oh? Make her do it, babe.” Kazuha orders the go-ahead, a hand - well, actually, both hands full of Sakura’s breasts, claiming it as hers. “I think she’s willing to be killed while being split open.”

You’re paying zero attention to the words - grunting and passing air - as the piledriving only seems to be the sole constant that your mind and body seem to be focusing on.

It’s a bit disorienting how your vision blacks out before coming back with color, the mind playing tricks as if you were getting your head dunked underwater and pulled back up, gasping for air. The thrusting never stops, with every fiber in your body, pooling it into fucking Sakura’s open cunt in the best way possible. Her hips are past the breaking point, grinding up against yours. She’s wailing, towards hyperventilation, eyes rolling upward to the back of her head, mouthing, close. You can easily tell, I’m so fucking close for you. Keep ramming your dick into me.

“Saki,” now you’re saying the other nickname, and Kazuha grins, finally having her moment. “Fuck, baby-”

Sakura looks away as Kazuha looks up, chin lightly tapping your hips - the devilish smile she possesses - it’s a rare occurrence, but that look could haunt you in your dreams: “Use her pussy, fuck everything up inside of her, I don’t care. Get her creaming all over you. I want to hear her screaming.”

And Sakura fucking screeches. The better sound to wake up to rather than the annoying alarms on your phone.

She holds still, every part of her body tensing - knees locking, toes curling, back arching and unarching - as Kazuha holds her down. The noises she’s making are loud enough to slip through the thin walls, and you can guess another complaint from the neighbors would be on the cards. Kazuha takes liberty into treating a barrage of kisses across Sakura’s body, you trying to drag your cock a little bit in, barely managing to drag yourself out. A brief effect from the aftershocks: her midsection freezing as the clamp around your cock starts to subside.

Sakura whimpers with closed lips, shuddering when you finally slide out of her properly-fucked cunt, leaning down to kiss and kiss and kiss, dick taking the fresh, cold air as it rests along the bottom portion of her waist. Your hands get on her neck, helping her up with the arch in her back, hot and slicked and sweaty. Kazuha gives you two some space, playing as the makeshift crane to pull Sakura away from the clutches of your hands and lips, face racked in disappointment when Kazuha looks at you, smiling, tending to the mess that’s reforming in her arms.

Kazuha then moves across the bed with her knees, a change in guard from Sakura to her when her body crashes into yours, the press of her lips good enough for you to fall on your back as the arms and chest eventually come into their own, molding with the canvas of your skin to mesh. She’s literally perfect for you - the way she wants more of you - in the taste of your lips, how your fingers explore every area of the framework that’s tensing and relaxing, reaching for spots that get her riled up in every way imaginable.

You kiss and lick and grab wherever you can. A hand palming the firm skin of her ass, soft and plump. The hickeys and other various bite marks are an earned badge of honor for Kazuha to be proud of, her nails digging into the skin where your shoulders are as the grip on her ass-cheeks starts to become more and more possessive, slapping it as her forehead accidentally clatters yours.

“Such a klutz,” she assesses, landing a loose kiss on the bottom of your chin. “Still able to think straight after fucking Saki relentlessly?”

“What do you think?” You rebuke, dazed, as Kazuha gets a finger on a strand of your hair at the front, mimicking her messy bedhead bangs.

“I mean,” she slips her tongue across your bottom lip, biting along the patch of few hairs, pulling her head back when she notices that your hands have never left the curve of her ass. “I think you’ve got more to offer, and here’s a bonus: there’s one hole that you haven’t filled yet.”

It’s the most simple movement she could do, with any intent that she wanted to fabricate behind it. She turns around, swaying her ass from the left side as she’s on her hands and knees on the bed, stretching as far as she could possibly get them to reach. The arch starts to form along the fine lines of muscle displayed on her back, arms out straight as her legs find a proper foothold, spreading themselves for you to fill in the space.

Your hands have never been quick to get themselves on something that you want, and this was the only exception; it’s appalling how easy the soft skin wraps around the underside of your fingers, picturing the look on her hidden face where you can only see the back of her head: in her lidded eyes, the swollen lip being captured between her teeth, the mumbling of insistence when all you’re just doing is feeling her out, resting your dick above her unfathomable cheeks, grazing the underside in the small divot at the middle, pressing them closer together, her hips reeling back and into your thighs, the listless moan spilling out of your mouth when the friction tightens at the belly of your cock.

In fact, that’s the only thing you keep your focus on, not paying any sort of attention to Sakura when she shuffles out from beneath Kazuha’s lowered and bent body, doing this sort of army crawl to the nightstand for a certain thing. You’ve seen the arsenal that she has in that drawer, and some of the items were actually put to use in the last outing with Sakura and Kazuha. The instinctual thing that you do also is lean over to Kazuha’s backside and get one side of your face nestled into her as your hands wrap their way around her stomach, holding her close.

Not much is said aside from the shaky exhales and whines, filled in with the occasional smacks of your lips across skin. Until-

“My turn to watch,” announces Sakura, a slim bottle in her hand, wrapped with those long, dainty fingers of hers.

You blink once, and she’s on the edge where the nightstand is. You blink again, and she’s already made her way back to you, cap opened with the noise similar to an obvious crack of a stick, like breaking the silence in a quiet forest.

Sakura’s hands become slick, as if her hand were made of the smooth liquid itself. The grip she has on you is breathlessly attractive: palm sliding across the length, strategizing the strokes at every curve and pull while she’s kissing you.

“Do you have any idea how long she’s been wanting this?” Sakura questions, implicating you as she slaps your cock along Kazuha’s ass. “You’ve told me before: she’s made for you.”

Utterly speechless is what you are, but maybe you should say something to-

“Gotta fuck her sensless,” Sakura suggests, head perpendicular to yours while the cock in her hands starts to graze the surface of her ass, nudging the opening by just a teeny bit, a small preview of what’s to unfold. “That’s what she wants. What she needs. Isn’t that right, Zuha?”

“Mhm.” Kazuha hums in agreement, a throaty moan to follow after Sakura gets both hands full of her ass, spreading her open. “All of it,” Kazuha murmurs, chest pulled inwards when you start to descend; the more you fall, the more faster the air expels out of her chest, with a shout thrown in - a last resort call of your name: “fuck, I, hngh, god.”

You hold for a moment, pussy leaking by the second as she’s taking you fully, expanding to compensate for the girth. An enchanted feeling washes over your body, grabbing to whatever you can of Kazuha’s ass - holding, a still in this moment of time - and this was the only grace period you’ve given her much more than yourself, head falling back because her hips do this movement in your hands, and

“For fuck’s sake,” you spit, because the suffocating tightness and heat surrounding your cock is one to be unbearable. The pins and needles of pleasure prick all over your nerves as the fine weight of Kazuha’s ass takes you in and out, until you’ve retreated from the impending chamber, pausing as your cock twitches.

Then you drop the pin inside her, all the way.

“Fuck!” Kazuha gasps, sewing her eyes shut. Her hands start to grip the sheets.

There isn’t much time after for her to get used to this, as you start to drive into her more, fucking out every cry that you could suck out of her lips. Her ass does this little ripple effect with every slam, making her feel the thickness where it hurts, hugging your cock in all directions. It’s a gradual push from here on out, building your sense of rhythm again, just like how she was riding you earlier.

“Finally,” Sakura breathes, kissing Kazuha’s ass cheek, getting her fingers buried on the curve, kneading, showing, and biting.

The thrusts keep coming. One stroke and the next. Each one after is harder than the last. Your eyes are locked onto Sakura’s side profile, watching your cock disappear in the valley of Kazuha’s ass with every passing movement. Kazuha herself looks over her shoulder, a hand out reaching for something, maybe her thigh, hoping to spread herself even wider so that it’ll be easier for you to stretch her tight hole out. You could feel that she wants more, throwing her ass back to match her strokes with yours, the slaps becoming louder and louder, similar to the moans.

“So fucking tight,” you grit, your vision loosing sharpness at the top layers. Sakura’s smiling into Kazuha’s sweaty skin. “Like, nobody else could have this but me. Shit-”

“It’s not every day that you’re gaping a pretty girl’s ass.” Sakura says it excitedly, her head rocking along with the movement of Kazuha’s body in every slam. “Fucking her hole and opening up just for you. God, Kazu, can you believe this? He’s taking you so fucking well; I love the way he just fucks you, like that’s the only thing he’s meant to do. Just drop your pants whenever, and he’ll just take you right then and there- get you craving - over and over and over again, and it could be everything, if you just let him.”

Kazuha claws deeper into the bedsheets, nearly tearing the fabric, Sakura’s face on Kazuha’s ass-cheek, closing her eyes to feel the motion more.

Every inch of her body is washed with bliss, curdling in the layers beneath the skin, a form of want that could only, truly, be achieved by you.

“Baby,” Sakura’s calling out to you this time, face flustered when you realize that she’s got a hand magnetized to the heat between her legs; fingers in its own cyclone, a paradigm of its own when she’s screwing in two, no-three digits inside her cunt, parting her folds in an identical fashion the way that your cock rips open Kazuha’s ass and fucking the lights out of her since that’s the primary reason why she’s connected to you, and Sakura even sit back and watch this unfold in front of her eyes, bear witness to you fucking her friend with every matching heartbeat to the claps, “She could be a heartbreaker for you, and you could fuck her ego until she finally knows her place, like the motherfucking slut that she is.”

There’s no sense of control left in your bones anymore. All you just do is let Sakura’s words fill your ears as your fingers dig deeper into the firm cheeks of Kazuha, the warm embrace of oil trickling down the plugged-up, puckered ass as your cock picks up the dripping remnants.

“I-” is what you make of a poor attempt from Kazuha, the vowel replaced with a flat-out gasp, since the irreplaceable feeling of power goes a little bit over the top of your head, a firm thrust to send the message instead as the fucked-out girl at the front of your thighs tumbles out a voice that’s wheezing and whining in croaks. “Fuck. Yes, fuck, fuck, babe.”

Sakura doesn’t really say many words to you soon after, just mouthing yours, yours. She’s so yours. And even if you could describe the surreal feeling of bending a beautiful girl over across the canvas of your mattress and sheets, there’d probably be nothing else left to say from you. She’s just urging you to keep on trucking Kazuha’s ass, demanding that you’d fuck her until the wheelchair sitting in the dark corner of your closet proved to be a viable solution for her poor legs - when there’s all but that satiated with the proper fucking you’ve delivered.

“Aw, you like it when she’s all fucked out for you, huh?” Sakura keeps on talking, smiling her heart away, paying no attention to the obscene sounds that Kazuha keeps letting out. You try to come up with a response to Sakura, but you’re lost at the letters caught in the back of your tongue, watching as Kazuha’s beautiful ass envelops all of your cock, balls lightly tapping her cunt when you’ve got it down to the hilt. The moans hit a hitch at the throat, only for it to be drowned out with the unrelenting thrusts into her tight ass and flushing your thighs with hers.

A snap from one slow hit. Then another. You keep fucking in, one hand alternating between from the rounded end of Kazuha’s waist to her ass-cheek and the other buried into the messy locks of Sakura’s, holding her head in place as the grip around your cock burns across the surface, not failling to keep the pace consistent as it increases the more Kazuha’s walls smother your cock with ease.

“-perfect,” Kazuha manages to say, the syllables tumbling on top of each other as her whines do this staccato format the more your thrusts chop up the sound. You’re driving your hips so up to the frontside that the ripples start to catch Sakura’s cheek, who’s still laughing when she hears Kazuha try to speak, fucked at the cock stabbing inside her for all that it’s worth. “Stretching me so good, baby, you’ve got it, yes, right there,” and that’s when you see her head fall to the pillow, screaming with all her might when you’ve brought her to the point which-

“Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.” Sakura scowls, fist full of Kazuha’s hair, forcing her up. The arch in her back is deeper than before, giving you a little more space for you to take inside her ass, inching deeper. This wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for the wetness and pulsing throbs your cock emits when you bury yourself in, holding as the grip from her tight ass is something straight out of a mythical creation. “I want him to hear you. Use you. Lower your head again, and I swear to fuck-“

This happens on impulse, or maybe this was the one thought sitting in the back of your mind that couldn’t rest there any longer, pulling your cock out of Kazuha’s ass, finger, and thumb quickly to be wrapped around the base. You’ve got Sakura’s head in your hand still, dragging her across the dune of Kazuha’s cheek, closer to the head of your cock, and she takes the hint fully, lowering her jaw until her teeth pass the head, enveloping you, eyes fluttering shut, and humming out of surprise.

“You talk too much,” you’re saying to Sakura, mouthful of your cock, tongue slipping and pulling with her head in the ways that she knows you’ve ascended from before. “I thought I had you up on the ropes earlier; guess I didn’t do much, but we can fix that later.” It’s incredibly difficult for you to not lose your insanity, transitioning from Kazuha’s tight ass and into the addicting heat of Sakura’s mouth, taking you past the halfway mark, head dipping past her soft palette and into the hollow of her throat, cheeks puffing and coughing up spit to soak the areas already covered from the wetness in Kazuha’s ass. “Fucking-”

Sakura’s sharp inhale for air sends you in check, as her welled-up eyes watch your cock sink back into Kazuha’s ass, face crinkling when the tightness is a little hard to break into before you’re sliding back in and out with ease.

So it just flows the way it goes. A turn-taking kind of structure you’ve established. You thrust inside Kazuha’s tight ass for a few strokes, pull yourself out, and nestle your cock into those pretty lips of Sakura’s. The pair of them humming in approval and giggling under their breaths as you take the fun for yourself, using one hole after the other. Kazuha’s face is riddled with sweat, the hot pink shade running across her cheeks. Sakura’s is also the same, welled-up tears as she holds herself down the hard line of your cock.

These sluts. Your sluts. Many would’ve wished to be in your shoes. But you’re the lucky pick among the both of them.

“My good girls,” you mumble, groaning as you up the takes in one tight ass and one pretty fucking mouth. “Could die like this every day, using you two like this. A fucking dream.”

Sakura guides you back into the rim of Kazuha’s ass, hand posing as the makeshift pipe when your cockhead nudges back into her, groaning like crazy to the added pressure of her fingers and palm. Your body twinges a bit, gradually building up the slaps with every follow-through more quickly than the previous hit.

“My, fuck- holy fuck-”

“What’s the matter?” Sakura’s fast to assess the condition as Kazuha’s moans start to bounce around in every wall and corner in the room, watching as you keep fucking yourself into Kazuha and her ass, “Too much to handle? Oh god, you’re about to bust, aren’t you? Kazuha look, he’s going to cum again soon for you, baby.”

You could probably hear the sirens calling within your head. Kazuha’s hips are moving on their own and not in line with yours. Tensing, tensing, then relaxing, and it flip-flops. You can see in the muscles and how they sort of cramp up per se, how her moans are a lot more vocal as to earlier, when you feel down her cunt and be surprised how she’s oozing in your fingers, her ass clenching around your cock, clinging.

And the brain overload to not blow it makes you pull out, flicking your cock up in the air as you watch the arch in Kazuha’s back deepen. Sakura’s got a palm full of the oil, slathering it nicely - hand coiling you where it feels right.

“One more push,” Sakura pleads, resting her head down the midline of Kazuha’s back, both hands on her ass, spreading her open for you, “please, just for us.”

So.

You do as Sakura says, pressing your cockhead back into the soft coil of muscle, Kazuha’s body greatly accepting you - grabbing and stretching and inviting all of you. She’s buried her head back into the cushion, muffling the pained whines, pulling to the right so that the breathing is a bit easier to tolerate, and the rush soon after is a spell of your own.

Sakura’s hands hold firm on the plush of her ass, pulling outward and pressing inward when you’ve sheathed yourself, the vice ten times tighter than what it already is. Kazuha’s ass clutches around the head of your cock, and with every pound that you dish out to her, the more audible the clashes of skin are. Your upper body is starting to buck forward, the lower half losing composure in the routine that it built for itself, Kazuha’s mouth is parted open just like Sakura's - mouthing - keep going, yes, fuck my ass, just like that, god, your cock, just need you to-

“Babes, I’m going-”

That’s really all you say when you’re revealing your cock away from her ass, cumming all over her uncontrollably.

Shots of white are painted over porcelain. Spent, slick, and messy porcelain. You’re trying to readjust the grip around your cock, pointing your tip inside the open hole of Kazuha, shooting a measly two or three spurts, hips trembling as she gets help from Sakura to hold her ass open for you.

Sakura, unfortunately, gets caught in the crossfire. Earring a few scattered streams of your release all over her face, some in her mouth, and plenty into her hair.

“Mmmm,” breathes Sakura, tongue running across both upper and lower profiles of her lips, hooking the taste of you on her buds. Kazuha still has her face down, buried in the sheets, ass up, as she could legitimately not move a single muscle in her body after being wrecked for god knows how long. She’s softly sobbing into the pillowcase; bruises spread out across her skin, visible red prints highlighted on her cheeks, but she’s managed to calm down. The breathing is starting to stabilize. “Look at that: two loads from you this morning. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Should’ve came inside my ass.” Kazuha suggests, finally letting her frame fall to the side as you and Sakura both observe the obvious drip of cum oozing out of her. “This doesn’t technically count, but I want a do-over.”

You and Sakura both exchange this look with a singular eyebrow, a dragged-out grin soon to follow. “Such a slut for you.” Sakura observes.

“That isn’t really new news to anyone.”

Some hours later, things get slow. It’s the weekend, or the weekday? You’re too lost to put that setting back in your head, primarily because:

“Can you guys keep it down?” Sakura asks loudly, not willing to turn her head around away from the TV when you bend your knees a bit and slip inside Kazuha’s cunt against the kitchen counter, hiking up one of your borrowed shirts you gave her to reveal the handprint still apparent on her ass. “I can’t watch the movie if I hear two horny rabbits getting it on behind me.”

“Fuck you,” Kazuha rasps, mewling when you’ve buried yourself deep to the cornerstone of your cock. “If it were me, I wouldn’t have said no to getting some seconds.” She’s dipping her head down, hiding her face in the wavy locks of her hair, but you can tell her lips are parted when you’ve got a hand to her neck, pulling to flush her backside with your front. “God, yes-”

“Don’t expect an apology from me,” you’re calling out to Sakura, who took it upon herself to finally twist and see you staring, the pumps inside Kazuha relaxed, and its own thing happening. And Kazuha’s not even moaning yet. “You only have to blame yourself for bringing a physical version of Aphrodite to the place.“

Sakura rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the television. “That’s her little secret. I guess. And it’s not my fault that you fall for it every time.”

The thing is, there isn’t really a secret to be said amongst the three of you. You’ve mapped them out to their little glances - the one quirk that gets them both going for something to follow. Dumb it down to a simple phone call or maybe a cantation laced in the words they whisper into your ear. Sakura’s right: you will fall for it.

Every. Single. Time.

#le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #sakura smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim kazuha #kpop x male reader

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luveline · 2 months ago

Note

can we please have more coworker JAMES 💜

james calls you something he maybe shouldn’t | fem

You’re feeling at a James-given mark when Sirius appears.

You don’t know Sirius half as well as you know James nor Remus, but you’re ninety five percent sure he’s a good guy. He’s funny at lunch, whenever Remus has managed to convince you to go with them. He’s like James in terms of scandal. They like making bad jokes. Sirius really likes making Remus laugh, so he must be nice.

“Hey,” he says, “where are they?”

You nod toward the boss’ office. “Presenting the last of the Lang and Co.”

“Oh, right.” Sirius moves in to James’ desk. He knocks one of his figurines over purposefully, then moves one to have its face in the other’s backside.

“I’ll have to tell him that was you,” you say.

“Rat. Why?”

“He’ll think it was me otherwise, and then–” He won’t kiss me later, you’d been about to say. James has grown suddenly and enthusiastically fond of withholding affection whenever you mess with him. As a joke, of course, but you refuse to risk your lunchtime kiss. “You know what he’s like with me.”

Sirius smiles oddly. “I do.”

He sits at James’ desk. Ever since you and James… started whatever it is you’re doing, things have been raw for you. Maybe you’re stupid, it’s only kisses, but you’re sort of thinking it isn’t. Like, this is dating. You might not be boyfriend and girlfriend, but you’re exclusive.

James is too good, and some small part of you doesn’t like admitting it, but the bigger part (the part that wants to kiss him and be kissed by him) knows it surely. How could you have grown to fancy him otherwise?

“Doing anything fun this weekend?” you ask.

“Not likely,” Sirius says, tucking hair behind his ears. “We’re all helping Remus’ dad paint the house. It’s a tiny thing n’ it won’t take long, but he lives in Aberystwyth. S’gonna take hours to get there and he wants to stay up there ‘cos his dad gets lonely.” Sirius scratches his jaw. “His dad’s nice, mind. I don’t mind going up there. Just hate being stuck in the car when James is driving.”

You won’t see James this weekend, then. He hadn’t mentioned it. “It’s beautiful in Aberystwyth. Maybe you can go to the beach,” you say.

“That’s what I’m trying to convince them to do.” Sirius grins.

“Not the best weather.”

“It’s always nicer up there. We spent a lot of time up there, you know, in the summers. We ping-ponged between Remus’ house and James’ parents.”

“Do they live there too?” you ask.

“Nowhere near.” Sirius laughs, a deep, rich sound. “You think I’d be used to long drives.”

“Where’s James from?”

“My parents live deep in the West Country,” James says, his hands sudden on the back of your chair.

Fuck, you think. You had no idea he was coming, distracted by Sirius and the patter of rain against the window. “You creeper.”

“You’re the creeper. Grilling dear Siri for details on my personal life.” James dives for a biscuit from the plastic packaging laid out on your desk and then away from you. “If you want to know where to send your fan mail, just ask me, sweetheart.”

“How do you sneak up on me like that?” you ask.

The space between your chair and the wall isn’t super tight, but it’s still weird to think he’d approached from the right and you hadn’t noticed. Just, James isn’t generous with details about himself and you’re too timid in your standing with him to ask.

“Practice… Sirius, what have you don’t to my little women!”

“I thought they were boys?” Sirius says.

“That gives you no right to knock them over and make them do frankly obscene things to one another. This is a workplace.” James knocks Sirius out of the way, desk chair and all, to set each of his little green figurines onto their feet. The ones that are standing, that is. The sleeping one he puts back in pride of place underneath his computer’s monitor.

“She told me not to,” Sirius says, not looking at anyone now, peering backward toward the office. “But I didn’t listen, don’t blame our sweet Y/N.”

“I wasn’t going to.” James sends you a secret smile.

“She wouldn’t physically withheld me if I weren’t so devilishly fast.” Sirius’ voice warms. “Hello, darling.”

Remus huffs as he sets down a huge binder of paper. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

The tone he uses is so tender, so soft, you aren’t jealous of Remus but you’re not far from it, either. Remus’ frowning is quick to turn up at the sight of his meddling boyfriend. It must be nice to see someone and have them make a bad day good.

You look up, finding James paused with a hand on his desk. He’s looking at you, impassive.

“You okay?” you ask him.

He squints, wrinkles his nose. “Fine. Got shouted at a bit for the reports. Bet you’re glad you have a twisted ankle.” You’re confused at first, then caught. James’ wrinkled face darkens to glare at you. “You lied?”

“I really didn’t wanna see him today.” Your boss sucks.

“And we did? Remus, we’ve been betrayed.”

“James, I knew she was lying, I just don’t care.” Remus rubs his face. “Why shouldn’t one of us escape him?”

Sirius takes Remus’ empty hand hanging at his side, picture of a concerned lover.

James, on the other hand, steals another biscuit despite your laughing protesting and nimbly switches off your monitor.

“Had enough,” James says. Turned away from the boys, he smiles at you playfully, hand twitching at his side like he wants to give you a squeeze. Or a shove. “Your betrayal is noted.”

“Mm.” You take a third biscuit from your pack to offer him.

He takes it, letting his knuckles brush under your arm before pulling away. “And filed away for a later date.”

When Sirius has pulled Remus away for another early lunch, James retakes his chair and slides as close to you as he can be. He looks for your hand under the desk. You pretend it’s just casually there on your knee and not waiting for him to hold.

“My dad’s family is very well off,” he says, rubbing your index finger with his thumb, “so the estate is huge. They own a lot of land, but he’s not, like, a lord or anything. You’d love it down there though, it’s nice.”

“I bet I would.”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“No, I’m not, I know you’re rich.”

“Not that sort of surprise. It would be nice to go down there together.” He can tell he’s getting ahead of himself and backtracks. “Well, this weekend I’m going to gorgeous Aberystwyth and you’re…”

“Doing laundry.”

“Well,” he says quietly, “maybe you can make some time Sunday night after all of that and we can get a late dinner.”

“I thought I was in trouble over the twisted ankle.”

“Who could be in trouble for an injury?” James sandwiches your hand in his.

“Fake injury.”

“Oh, my girl,” he murmurs, almost inaudible, “so honest. No punishment on account of owning up to it.”

Great. My girl and he’s going away for the weekend. James Potter’s your personal nightmare.

—

james coworker au

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months ago

Text

Allergies III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Lena Oberdorf x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Obi chooses your food

The first round of preseason right before a round of Euros qualifiers is a little bit annoying for your parents but to you, it doesn't matter much.

You're happy to just be around the team after the short break with your family.

It's not that you don't get along with your cousins but you've always felt a little anxious around kids your age, no matter if you're actually related to them or not.

You feel much more settled at training with a bunch of footballs to keep you occupied.

The girls are nice too.

Obi has joined from Wolfsburg and you really like Obi because she does fun things like swing you around and run around with you on her shoulders.

Momma says that's dangerous.

You think she's silly but Momma's in charge of you so you make Obi stop doing it where Momma can see.

"Princesse!" Magda calls over from her lunch table," Have you got what you wanted?"

"In a minute!" You yell back as Obi makes your plate for you.

You're letting Obi choose your meal today like she did a few time when you were at Wolfsburg together. Obi always chooses really good food like the mac and cheese a few days ago and the creamy chicken you liked so much that Magda had to go and get the recipe off the chefs because it was all you wanted to eat when you got home.

So, all in all, you trust Obi's choices even when she puts yucky salad on your plate because Momma and Morsa say you have to have something healthy.

Obi gets to the end of the line and hands you your plate before looping back around to grab her own food.

You walk carefully to the table Momma, Morsa and Georgia are already sitting at.

Georgia takes your plate as Magda lifts you up into your seat, tucking you in before you're allowed to start gobbling up your lunch.

Obi's chosen very well again as you eat your pasta and pancetta. You really like pasta. You think it's your favourite food even though Momma and Morsa have made sure that you like lots of other food too.

Pernille taps your plate. "Eat some salad too."

You huff.

A love of salad is not something that they've managed to instil in you. You're not a big fruit eater, having favoured vegetables since you were a lot younger but the idea of salad has always been boring and you'll always avoid it if you can.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Pernille replies," It'll make you big and strong."

You wrinkle your nose in annoyance as your spear a weird green cube on your fork. It's kind of soft but kind of not. Your fork goes straight through it and you sniff cautiously.

It doesn't smell bad, per say, but you still don't really want to eat it.

You do anyway because Momma is right but it doesn't mean you'll enjoy it.

And you really don't enjoy it.

The weird green cubes you eat make your mouth all itchy and your throat goes all tight again.

You scrunch up your face and put down your fork just as Obi joins the table.

"What's with the face?" She laughs, making everyone turn to look at you," Does the avocado taste weird?"

Magda and Pernille both freeze, food halfway to their mouths as Georgia cocks her head to the side in confusion.

"You're looking kind of red there, y/n. Do you need-"

You never quite hear what Georgia was going to ask as your throat closes up just as Pernille hauls you out of your seat.

Magda tears open the backpack on the back of her seat to grab an epipen, slamming it into your leg suddenly.

You yelp at the sudden pain blooming in your thigh but your throat and mouth feel less itchy and scratchy

"What the fuck?!" Georgia swears, feeling a little queasy as Magda pulls the needle out of your leg. She has to force herself to turn away until Magda puts it down.

Obi is also speechless, mouth opening and closing but no words are able to come out.

A crowd has formed now, after all the commotion and Pernille clutches you to her as the medics check you over.

You epipen works quickly and this reaction was nowhere near as severe as your first.

In fact, Magda reacted so quickly that your face didn't even have the chance to break out in hives fully so your recovery is already happening before you've even realised that you were having an allergic reaction.

"We'll pop an icepack on this," One of the medics say, hand lightly grazing the large bruise developing over your injection site.

"I feel sick," Georgia mutters nearby, having to turn away again when the she catches sight of the mere size of the bruise.

"She's okay?" Pernille checks, still clinging to you and furiously wiping away the few tears that have dripped down her cheeks.

"Keep the icepack on, let her get lots of rest and she'll be right as rain," The medic confirms.

Magda sits slumped on her chair, turning to Obi.

"She's allergic to avocado."

"I didn't know."

"I know. We should have told you. Kiwi and banana too."

"And latex," Pernille cuts in," But only kind of."

The adults are all fussing over you, Pernille especially.

You're still sitting on the floor together with a big icepack on your leg and her arms wrapped tight around you like she's scared to let go.

"Momma?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my pasta back please?"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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dinogoofymutated · 30 days ago

Text

NSFW! Gambit/Fem!AFAB!reader SECOND FIC OF HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION LEHHHGOOO!!! I really hope you guys like this one, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Sorry if the smut at the end is a little barebones, I was running out of steam lol. Here's your meal my hellions!

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Smut, Mirror sex, bitchy neighbors, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex. vampire stuff, only half of this has been beta-read. I'll add more if I think of any.

The bat hadn’t struggled once when you scooped it up into a spare shoebox. It didn’t scramble away, or even flinch, really. It hadn’t made a single sound or squeak, either. All it did was look up at you with strange, tired eyes. Black scelera, red iris, black pupils- paired with an exhausted haze. He was cut up, battered, and beaten. If it weren’t for how compliant it was, you might have thought the thing was feral. Which didn’t exactly help your shaking hands or constant flinching as you used the lid to urge it into the cardboard. But your fear be damned, you couldn’t just leave the little guy on the doorsteps of your apartment- the thought of the bat being crushed by clumsy feet, or poked and prodded by the little hellions that were the children who lived here was more than enough to give you the push you needed.

Besides, it was almost… cute, for something you thought was so scary. A little vampire bat with those strange eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He never failed to perk up every time you came home from work. Despite the many struggles and attempts you had trying to find something he could eat, he never seemed to hold it against you. Happy to see you when you took the lid off the shoebox to check in on him, and not too upset with you when you inevitably had to put it back on.

Well, before he escaped, that is.

You knew you were going to have to let him go at some point. You were just trying to do the right thing and reach out to a wildlife rescue, or something. Hoping that they’d do something more to help him before he was set back off into the wild. But one day you came home and he was just, well, gone. The lid of the shoebox had been tossed aside, the box itself a little squished and damaged, the bat nowhere to be found. You searched your apartment for absolute ages, unable to find any trace of his existence or escape aside from a window you were sure you had locked before you left for work that afternoon.

You sigh as you look out the window of the Uber, thoughts drawn back to the bat as you pass billboards and cornfields, hoping he had escaped the city and found himself somewhere a bit safer. Ashley and Sophie, your neighbors from across the hall, are giggling about something in the seats next to you. The chatty girls are more like acquaintances than they are your friends, but on the surface, they seem sweet. When they invited you out tonight you had been surprised, if a little hesitant. You had wrestled with your anxiety every step of the way, but once you were strapped into the sexiest costume you could find and buckled into the almost-too-small backseat of the Uber, you had started to feel a little excited- despite the fact that you stood out like a sore thumb, with the girls having chosen matching costumes at the last minute and left you out of the loop.

“I think we should hit the corn maze first,” Ashley says confidently from the seat next to you. It’s enough to finally clue you back into their current conversation, debating on where the night should start once you get to the Halloween festival. -It’s an “adult only” event, with more than its fair share of alcohol and more than a few scare actors who linger around to give everyone a fright- and there’s a lot to do. It’s almost like the fair, just, you know, spooky.

“What? No! I’m telling you, it’s not a good enough photo-op until the moon comes out. We need to do it last!” Sophie sounds adamant, and you wonder how many times they've actually had this conversation leading up to tonight. You try not to snicker as Ashley rolls her eyes, Sophie pouting across the way. They bicker a bit more before Ashley turns to you, smiling slyly. There’s an unnerving way about the way she’s looking at you, something ticking in the back of your brain that you just can’t shake.

“What do you think?” She asks you, Sophie leaning over to stare at you directly, Puppy eyes full-throttle as she pouts. You don’t really want to be caught between the spat of theirs, so you take a moment to think, before shrugging with your answer.

“I think we should start with drinks.” You say after a moment, and both girls gasp in excitement.

“Girlie you are so smart!! I knew we invited you for a reason!” Ashley’s high-pitched voice cheers harshly in your ears as she lightly slaps your arm, but you smile at her anyway, despite the fact that her tone made it feel rather belittling. It’s fine. This is fine, it will be fine. Your anxiety feels like a ticking time bomb, but you know that when you get there and start having fun, it will eventually fade into the background of the noise and lights of the festival. At least, you hoped it would.

The festival is pretty packed when you get there, but the wide walkways and plentiful games, areas, and events make it more approachable. After the first watery drink of the night, you start to relax a little. And as bitchy and frigid as the girls can be sometimes, they’re a lot of fun when it comes to a party! Carnival games, photo areas, rides, and jumpscares? You find yourself laughing most of the night as the three of you goof off and stumble your way through the corn maze, clown maze, haunted maze- a little repetitive in that area, but fun nonetheless.

The funny thing was, despite all the people here, and everyone the girls have stopped to flirt with and talk to, you keep seeing this one particular guy. He was certainly one to stand out in a crowd, tall, dark, and handsome with what looked like a permanent smirk on his face. But the one thing you couldn’t seem to shake was his eyes. They had to be contacts, right? Black Scelera, red irises, black pupils… just, strange. And familiar, somehow. You feel like you see him everywhere you go, somehow always in your vicinity, but not really in a stalkerish kind of way. Besides, it was more than likely just a coincidence.

After a while of playing various games and a couple more watery drinks, you’re feeling pretty warm and a little crowded. Ashley and Sophie had run into some acquaintances they knew and had stopped to chat for a bit. They talk about some of the more busy and exciting things you haven't been able to check out yet, but the longer you stand there, the less appealing all of this starts to sound. You’re beginning to feel a little overstimulated, and go ahead and let the girls know you’d rather sit this one out. Sophie doesn’t answer you at all, and all Ashley does is wave you off. It sparks some annoyance in your chest, but knowing that you’re overwhelmed and everything feels like it's at 100% right now- you shrug it off.

You find a bale of hay to sit on where you told them you’d wait, relieved at the feeling of the cool night air that’s uninterrupted by masses of warm bodies and hot breathing. The sound of the crowd is a little muffled over here, and the slight breeze just gives you everything you need for a quick break from the chaos, eyes closed as you lean back onto your hands. Not for long though, as someone plops down onto the space next to you pretty much immediately.

“Busy night, ay, cher?” Your eyes flick open quickly, and the source of that thick Cajun draw just so happens to be the handsome man you had been seeing all night. You blush a little, both out of nervousness and from the fact that he was even more attractive up close. The cool air suddenly feels sweltering with his eys on you like this.

“...yeah, I guess so.” You say after a moment, pressing a cool palm against one of your hot cheeks for a quick moment. The stranger chuckles at you, a flash of a fake fang appearing with his smile.

“Name’s Remy, Remy LeBeau.” He holds his hand out for a handshake, which you take with a smile. “Pretty girl like you gotta name?” You can’t help but giggle a little, and tell him your name, butterflies in your stomach with the way he’s looking at you.

“Nice to meet you, officially.” You say, and he cocks an eyebrow at you with that signature smirk of his. “I mean- like, I feel like I’ve been seeing you everywhere tonight! Not in a creepy way or anything, I just…” You take your hand back from him, covering your face in embarrassment as you apologize again with a sigh. God, why were you so awkward? You drop your hands into your lap as Remy begins to laugh, with you blushing furiously in a way you pray you can blame on the alcohol.

“ s’ good to know I make a lasting impression,” Remy says, and it’s charming enough to make you crack another smile.

“I promise I’m not normally this strange. It’s been a bit of a night.” The words come out like a sigh, and you glance over where the “stressors” of the night had run off to, strangely thankful when you can't see them through the crowd. You feel like your heart skips a beat when you look back over at Remy, with a smile on his face and a fondness in his eyes you feel like might be a little too friendly for someone you just met.

“I don’t mind, Cher. You’ll find that I like strange.” He replies, sending you a wink. You let out a short laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You know what? I believe you.” You say, all Remy does is smile wider. You glance at him again, looking at him from head to toe as you take in his appearance up close. You can’t really tell if he’s wearing a costume, or if he had just stuck on some vampire teeth and called it a night. Either way, he looks good, and you really do not want to make a further fool of yourself.

“What led you here, anyway? Costume catch your eye?” You flirt, hoping you don’t come off as nervous as you are- not really one to flirt with handsome strangers. But hey! When the opportunity presents itself… Remy raises his eyebrows, interested.

“Sure, Somethin' like that.”

You and Remy talk for a really, really long time. From the outside looking in, just about anyone would presume you were a couple with the easy-flowing conversation and back-and-forth flirting. You just clicked! It was so easy for your nerves to wash away, and for a long moment, all of your anxieties about the night were long forgotten. One of the two of you had scooted closer in the duration of your flirt-fest, not that you really noticed while caught up in his words and charismatic smile- your sides being pressed together and his hand resting behind you. He’s close enough to lean in and kiss you, and honestly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if he did.

“So you want my number then?” The words are admittedly cocky, but damn did this guy make you feel so confident in your own skin.

“You hear me say I didn’t?” Remy replies, cocking his head at you. You can't help but laugh, smiling like some cheesy idiot.

“Do you flirt like this with every girl?”

“Jus’ the ones I like.”

You really hadn’t noticed how long the two of you had been sitting together, an hour? Maybe an hour and a half? Your phone had been long forgotten, and you weren’t really planning to check it either until you heard a giddy squeal from your right. Both you and Remy look over to the noise, only to see the girls, without their clique from before and presumably done with all of their roaming at the moment.

“Hey girlie! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ashley says, drawing you into an awkward side hug that you don’t return, confused.

“I told you where I’d be?” She brushes you off, locking eyes with Remy for just long enough for her eyebrows to raise and a glint to light up in her eyes.

“Who’s this?” You don’t have time to answer before Sophie is in front of you, taking your hands and dragging you to your feet.

“Come get food with us!! We need an excuse to sober up, and we’re not doing it without you, bestie!” Both of them are being a little more friendly than normal, and it's enough to make you a little suspicious. But, food did sound pretty nice at the moment. You look back at Remy with a sheepish smile, and you find that he’s already looking at you.

“ S’ alright, Cher. I’m a patient man.” He gives you a reassuring smile, and you relax a little more, unable to keep yourself from smiling as butterflies light up in your stomach. The girls drag you away pretty much immediately, talking about some afterparty or whatnot, but all you can think of the entire time is the implications of that statement.

“Where’d you find a man like that?” Sophie’s voice finally catches your attention while in line for the carnival food, and you give her a questioning look.

“Sorry?” You ask, and both of them giggle in that way that just seems to set alarms off in your head.

“I’m serious! Almost every guy we’ve seen tonight has been like, a seven. That one is literally a ten.” Sophie giggles again, sending Ashley a knowing look. You blush a little, thinking about Remy again, but there’s just something about this conversation that’s making you uncomfortable.

“Well, I didn’t exactly find him. He approached me.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders. The girls exchange skeptical looks, before laughing again.

“Really?” Ashley asks this time, a wolfish smile on her face. It’s rhetorical- and feels just plain bitchy. Your face screws up, and you think about confronting her, but they quickly and ignorantly delve into a separate conversation, and you reluctantly decide to let it go. What the fuck was up with them? You don’t fall into conversation with them for a minute as you try to collect yourself, knowing you’d rather ride home with them than pay for a separate Uber. And starting a fight was definitely not going to work in your favor, seeing as they were your neighbors. They had a pack mentality like no other, and after tonight you’d much rather be able to ignore them forever instead of having a neiborly feud.

Eventually, you do decide to join the conversation. The line for food was ridiculously fucking long, and although it was moving, you still felt so impatient. Your phone is dying, and you’d really rather save your battery for Remy’s number and the ride home- so you talk and hope for the best. Eventually, Ashley says she needs to go to the bathroom and hands her wallet to Sophie before she stalks off. She’s gone for a while. A really long while. As you’re finally inching your way to the end of the line, Sophie tells you she’s going to find her. You actually welcome the peace and quiet, and promise to hold the spot. 4th in line. 3rd. 2nd. You’re starting to get anxious by the fact that neither of them had returned, but you get to the end and they’re still not back.

You buy a funnel cake for yourself, almost worried about the two as you walk back to the hay bale where you left Remy. The crowd finally starts to clear a bit, and when the Hay bale is finally in sight, you actually assume that you were looking at the wrong spot for a minute- until you recognize the costumes, and then spot the brunette they are both latched onto.

Ashley is in his space, her costume unzipped just enough for anyone walking past to get a view. Sophie is leaning across his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair and twirling the ends with manicured fingers You can’t see his face- but it didn’t really matter anyway.

You don’t mean to drop the funnel cake, but you do. There's a shot of ice through your veins when it clicks for you, finally, as you watch them from a distance- it was a ploy. A stupid fucking ploy. You were the ugly friend- If they could even call you that. You were invited to make them look better. The matching costumes, the conspiring looks, the whole thing about Remy. Jesus Christ, had you always been this blind? Your face is warm with humiliation, eyes watering as you desperately try not to cry.

Remy had nothing to do with it- of course, he didn’t, you just met him, but as you look at the two draped over him… You just feel like you can’t really compare. You know better. You do- but god, did it hurt. You don’t want to go over there for them to make fun of you again, and you sure as hell don’t want to feel the sting of rejection that will inevitably come when he ditches you for them. Before you know it, your feet are moving. You’re not thinking clearly- hardly thinking at all. You see a side entrance, or maybe a fire exit, not that you really care. You can’t read anything through your tears, closing the door behind you and plugging yourself into darkness as it clicks shut.

Inside, you find a mirror maze- again, what was with all of the fucking mazes? The overhead lights are off, what little light that’s coming from the outside dimly reflecting through each and every silvery mirror. It’s completely abandoned, with not a single soul in sight. You step over some shattered glass as you make your way further into the maze, and understand it was probably because drunks and mirrors don’t mix.

You find a dead end in the maze, and it’s like your legs give out. You can't help but just sit on the ground and sob for a minute. The backs of your hands are stained with the mascara that you’re sure is streaking down your face. You feel like an idiot- stupid, dramatic, pathetic. And you looked it, too. Every mirror reflects the mess of what you have become until you can’t stand to look at yourself anymore, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head into your arms.

It's a quiet reprieve. You sit for a minute, long after your tears have dried. Your breathing begins to return to normal as the humiliation really starts to settle in. You’re so tired, and exhausted, and find yourself wishing you had never come out tonight at all, visioning your comfy bed that waits for you at home.

“Pauvre ti bête. Looks like you need new friends, Cher.” The sound of the voice makes you flinch, the daylight scared out of you as a dark figure sits down by your side. “Remy?” You wipe at your face again, knowing it was to no avail, and that the damage to your makeup had already been done.

“The one an’ only,” He replies. It’s hard to see him in the low lighting, but it’s not like you’re looking around much anyway. There’s a silence between you two, and your gaze is locked on the floor, refusing to look at him with your stupid pout and tear-stained face.

“Sat for a while, waitin’ on you.” He says, after a long moment, and it makes you feel so much fucking worse. You curl into yourself a little more.

“Sorry, I just… I dunno, I thought you looked busy.” The words are more of a whisper than anything, and he chuffs something that’s not quite a laugh in response.

“I guess you could say that.” He hums, leaning back on his hands as you finally turn to look at him. “Hadda swat those girls like damn mosquitos to get 'em off. Felt like they were tryna swallow me whole.” You can’t help but laugh at that, rubbing your eyes a bit.

“...Trust me, they were probably trying to swallow something.” The words are out of your mouth before your brain can really catch up. Remy laughs a full laugh, smiling brightly at you now that you’ve started to come back out of your shell once again.

“Sorry, that was crude.”

“Sounded pretty funny to me,” Remy’s grin is contagious, not that you ever would complain. You roll your eyes at him with that big smile on your face, leaning your head against the mirror behind you.

“I guess I can’t really blame them, either.” You mumble, eyes going wide once you realize that that was most definitely not supposed to leave your lips. “God damn, I really have lost my filter!” Remy begins to laugh again as you cover your face, flushed with embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to mind the comment at all. Pulling your hands away as he struggles to contain his laughter.

“I like you, y’know that?” He says, and it makes you smile. You sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your thoughts slowly begin to wander. Remy’s very sweet, and the fact that he still came looking for you despite everything… It meant a lot. You can only imagine how uncomfortable he had been with Ashley and Sophie hanging off of him, waiting, wondering where you had gone. If he notices as your smile slowly becomes a frown, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry I left you out there.” You say quietly, breaking the silence that had become so uncomfortable for you. “I hadn’t realized they invited me to be the “ugly” friend until right then and I just needed to get away from it all.” There’s a featherlight brush of skin against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, Remy pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thumb lingering against your skin. You find yourself caught up in his piercing gaze. It’s almost like he’s looking into your soul.

“Pretty dumb choice to invite you if they were looking for an ugly friend.” His voice is low, and his cool hand feels nice against your flushed skin. You can’t drag your eyes away from his, gazes locked together as the tension only grows- thick enough to cut with a knife and choke you as you breathe it in. It’s he who breaks the eye contact first, stunning red irises flickering down to your lips and back up again.

“Really,” You ask, but it’s less of a question and more like a filler, mind unable to provide anything other than that. You’re caught up in that little action of his, swallowing, unable to look away from him. Suddenly, you realize just how close he really is.

“Mais oui,” He mumbles, close enough for you to feel the slight breath that comes with the words. His thumb and finger prop up your chin, but he moves no closer, waiting for you. It’s hardly a debate for you to decide to brush your lips against his own.

It’s like fireworks explode behind your eyelids when the space between you closes, his lips melding against you perfectly. It’s soft and sweet. Gentle for a man as much of a flirt as he appeared to be. He kisses you a few times, just like that, until the kiss starts to develop into something a little more heated. He turns to face you a little better, the sharp fangs in his mouth grazing your bottom lip as he leans over you and licks at the seam of your lips- which you eagerly open for him. Fuck, he was a good kisser.

Before long, you’re leaning back on your palms, and one of Remy’s knees presses between your thighs. Your elbows buckle just a little, and he’s quick to catch you. One of his hands is on the small of your back as he keeps you propped up, the other one flat against the floor as he keeps both of you from falling. He nips at your lip- the tip of his canine just barely splitting the skin before he kisses away your yelp, licking the blood away just as quickly as it had appeared. As embarrassing as it was, the action alone was enough to get the attention of heat slowly building in your abdomen. His kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.

Your eyes slowly open, half-lidded as you weave your fingers through his hair, tongue softly licking at the stinging soreness of that bottom lip of yours. He’s not as aggressive with the rest of you, kissing and sucking dark spots into you as the sharp canines only drag and graze. Your eyes wander to a mirror across from you- one just barely lit from what you were sure was a hole in the roof- the full moon lining up just perfectly enough to light the mirrored room.

It takes a second for you to recognize what you see in the mirror.

You see yourself. Just yourself, leaned over as if you were hovering, neck exposed with purple marks blooming mysteriously across your skin. It’s you. Just you. Only you.

A gasp is ripped out of your throat, and if the way your spine goes rigid wasn’t enough to alert Remy, it was the fast, pounding beat of your heart. Your eyes are glued to that image reflected in the mirror, even as Remy removes himself from your neck and finds himself staring at that same image. He stiffens, an unreadable look on his face before he recovers with an amused hum.

“Well, Don’t we make a lovely couple?” He muses. And when you finally look back at him, his strange eyes and sharp fangs, you realize exactly what he is. A wave of familiarity washes over you again, but you can’t place it as the horror begins to wash over you.

“Oh my god.” You breathe, almost stuck in disbelief. This could not be real, could it? That smirk of his makes yet another appearance, and yet something feels off about it. Deceptive, almost. It does not reach his eyes.

“What, you afraid?” He asks with a chuckle. You wonder for a moment about the situation you had put yourself into, held in the arms of what could only be a vampire. All you can do is look at him, wide-eyed. If stories were to be believed, he’d be caging you in his arms, holding you in an iron grip before he strikes- bleeding you dry without care…

But he’s not. Yes, he was holding you up, but the arm around you is loose. His body language is open- and you get the feeling that if you tried to make a run for it, he’d let you. He’s not vicious. He’s not snapping at you or pinning you down. Hell, he had the chance to bite you earlier while you were pliant and eager, and he didn’t.

“...I don’t actually know, right now.” You finally respond, and something shifts. His breath catches in his throat, and the barest glimpse of vulnerability is gone within a second as he leans back a little, giving you a chance to sit up a bit more. You do so hesitantly.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Cher. Just wanted to give you a proper thank you.” He rumbles. He takes one of your hands, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, gaze never leaving your own. Black, red, black. Where had you seen that before?

“Proper… what?” You furrow your eyebrows, trying your damndest to make sense of it all. Black, red, black. Black, red, black. Sharp teeth. Vampires, bats, Vampire bats. Vampire bat. Vampire bat. For the second time tonight, it all clicks for you.

“Holy shit. You-? The bat?-” You feel like you’re at a loss for words. Remy smiles again, fangs catching the low light of the mirrored room.

“That’d be me.” He admits, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “ ‘Thought I was done for until you showed up. Most vamps like that? They don’t make it inside ‘fore the sun comes up.” He chuckles, but the seriousness of the situation is not lost on you. Saving the life of an immortal being rather than the life of a small bat is something huge, it felt like it, at least.

“Did you follow me here? Is that why I kept seeing you around tonight?” You ask. Remy simply shrugs his shoulders, letting your fingers go as he inches forward, looming over you once again.

“Think of it as more of a happy accident.” Remy sets his arms on either side of you, leaning close enough for his nose to gently brush against yours. You think he’s going to kiss you as his hand comes up to cup your chin. Instead, Remy runs his thumb across your lower lip, which you hadn’t even realized had started to bleed again. He brings the thumb to his mouth, licking the smear of blood. The sight is seductive. Arousing. You find yourself staring at his lips, conflicted. He sets his forehead against your own, hovering over your lips. There’s a heated look in his eyes when you look back up at them.

“Tell me to leave, Cher, And I’ll go.” You swallow as he says the words, a flutter in your chest and a growing warmth within you. You bite your lower lip, your hesitance quickly being overshadowed by want.

“... You're not gonna suck my blood or anything?” You ask, lips beginning to brush against his own. He chuckles, and this time he’s close enough for you to feel the sound as it rumbles through his chest.

“Not unless you want me to…” He’s teasing you now, making you chase his lips until he’s fully sure you really want this, and you do. When they finally meet, his lips press against yours just as spectacularly as they did the first time. One of his hands snakes around the back of your neck, shielding the lower part of your head as he lowers you to the floor. You find yourself lost in his kisses, thinking of only him and the way he treats you so gently.

He props himself up with one strong arm, the other cupping the side of your face rather reverently, his thumb stroking across your cheekbone. Your hands can’t help but wander up and down his torso, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt. You feel him smile against your lips as you do, kissing at the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, before the fluttery movement traces a path over each and every discolored spot on your neck, kissing the marks he had given you not even twenty minutes earlier. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair as the kisses venture further. His cold face presses into your open cleavage, an open palm dragging up from your thigh and sliding beneath your top, softly squeezing the bare skin of your waist. You find yourself arching into his touch, eager for his soft caress.

You have goosebumps down your chest as his fangs graze the skin, his fingers hooking around the neckline of your shirt and the bra underneath it from the inside. The cool air hits your bare breasts as he tugs it down, your nipples pebbling at the frigid draft. Your breath hitches at the feeling as his lips venture down your sternum, his free hand moving out from under the fabric to palm and toy with one breast as he begins to tease the other. He chuckles at you when you let out a whine, fingers tugging on his locks.

“Have a little patience, Cher.” There’s a seductive lure to his voice as Remy tells you to have a little faith in him, pressing one last kiss to the swell of one said breast as he moves back up. He easily draws you into another long, heated kiss. He continues to play with the breast in his hand, pinching and testing the supple give of the skin. Your muffled whines and moans are music to his ears as he presses his knee against your heated core, only relenting with his playful touches when he slides his palm under your spine, forcing you to arch your back. He lets go of your lips to drag his attention back to your breast, now sucking at the stiff peaks, careful of his sharp teeth.

“Remy,” His name comes out inadvertently, the sound making him groan against you. Your hands have slid down from their hold on his scalp, now resting against his wide shoulders with a tight grip on the fabric of his shirt. His palm wanders up and down the expanse of your back, thriving off of the feeling of your hot, flushed skin against his cold body.

The feeling of your top being bunched around your waist starts to become uncomfortable and suffocating. You squirm to try and take it off yourself, but Remy is quick to stop you. He pulls it off of you slowly, kissing every inch of skin it drags against as it goes. Once it's off, he leans back to get a good look at you, cursing under his breath as his hands find your thighs. You know for a fact you’re flushed and red from the neck down. The sight only encourages Remy further, quickly sitting up and removing his own shirt, keeping his gaze on yours throughout the movement.

It’s not surprising when his upper body catches your attention, the lean muscle impressive for a man who’s basically dead. Or was he? When he’s back within reach, you run your right hand from his happy trail till you reach his collarbone, fingertips pressing into the cold skin as you try to feel for a pulse. He hums, a mischievous glint in his eye when he realizes what you’re doing.

“You won’t find a heartbeat, cher. Not from me.” Remy confirms your thoughts. You can only hum in response, leaning up to press a soft kiss where your hand had been, over his heart. Remy lets out a low groan at the action, inciting a slow grind of his hips against yours.

“Merde.” He mumbles.“You play a dangerous game, makin’ a dead heart flutter.”

“Do I really?” You ask, biting your lip. Remy leans in, just far enough to teasingly brush his lips against your own before he moves down the length of your neck, never touching you in the way to crave so badly.

“I get the feeling you like dangerous games.” There's something sharp against your neck, the tips of his fangs gently dragging across the skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but not out of fear. He grinds his hips into you once again, your hips eagerly bucking to meet his own. You swallow deeply at the sound he makes at the action- realizing that you just might want him to bite into you. It’s crazy. You feel crazy. It must be so tantalizing for him to be pressed against you like this, fully aware of the red-hot blood rushing through your veins and the constant pounding of your heart. And yet, he never takes the bait.

Remy’s lips meet your own again right as your hands meet the buckle of his jeans. He sighs against your lips as you undo it, sliding your hand underneath the stiff fabric to feel the hardness he hides underneath. He’s… big. Not necessarily long, but he’s thicker than you had expected him to be. You stroke him over the fabric of his boxers, feeling his length twitch under your touch. When he separates from the kiss, he tucks his head into your shoulder. You can’t help but giggle at the action as you begin to pull both garments down, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen once freed.

“Are you sensitive, Remy?” You ask him, turning your head to bury it in his hair. You wrap your hand around his cock, hearing him moan before cursing quietly when you give him a slight squeeze.

“Sometimes.” He mumbles, one of his calloused hands coming up to one of your breasts, gently rubbing his thumb over your nipple to encourage it to a stiff peak. You can’t help but let out a surprised moan as he pinches and teases, feeling his smile against the skin of your shoulder.

“But I got nothin’ on you.” Remy kisses your breast, before taking a long, slow lick across the sensitive skin. He takes the nub into his mouth, giving it a short suck before he lets go of it with a pop.

You almost want to whine and complain when Remy removes himself from you, but quickly lose the thought as you watch him remove his pants and boxers in one movment. Once he’s done, he slowly slides his hands from your ankles to your hips, hooking his fingers underneath the fabric of your bottoms. He kisses the space beneath your belly button, red eyes trained on your own as he slowly drags the clothing down, undressing you until you’re bare. He licks his lips at the sight of you, slowly spreading your legs as he begins to kiss from your knees to your…

“You don’t- you don’t have to do that.” You stutter out once you realize what he’s doing. You’ve never been eaten out before, and the sight of him between your legs has already got you flushed and nervous- embarresed, even. Remy’s eyes shift back up to your face, his fingers sliding between your admittedly slick folds as you try to hold back a moan.

“Vampires are creatures of desire, cher. Thirsty ones at that.” He rumbles, and it’s like everywhere he touches you is on fire, his cool hands stroking you into a lustful heat. “Should I beg for you to consider?” He’s got this knowing look on his face, watching you as you bite your lip, face twitching with pleasure every time those fingers of his graze your clit. He slides a finger into you without resistance, curling it just right. You buck your hips into the feeling, nodding vigorously as a final go-ahead.

Remy dives into your cunt like a man starved.

Every lick of his tongue and curl of his fingers has you seeing stars. Fuck, did it feel good. He touches you expertly, finding spots within you that you didn't even know you had. He lets a moan slip now and then, fully immersed in the warm wetness of your pussy.

Your legs are hooked over his shoulders, a hand splayed across your lower abdomen to keep you from bucking up into his mouth as he enjoys himself. You feel close to cumming embarrassingly quick- quick in a way you had never known yourself to even be capable of.

“Remy!” It's an urgent call of his name, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as you attempt to warn him. He hums in response, right over your clit, and it does nothing but push your body further. You come with a rather embarrassing noise, hips twitching and thighs pressing into the side of his head. You can't help but assume that not needing to breathe was only a bonus for the man currently suffocating between your pillowy thighs.

He lets you ride out your orgasm with enthusiasm, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around your sensitive cunt as your breathing begins to even out and your legs begin to relax around him.

He looks absolutely wrecked when he sits up. His hair is messy, a pussydrunk smile he's certainly not afraid to hide spreading across his face.

“You feelin’ alright, cher?” He asks. You eagerly nod in response, leaning into his touch when he crawls back over you to place a kiss against your lips. You've never been one to taste yourself, but you find that you don’t mind tasting it on his lips. Remy's cock begins a slow grind against you, grazing your clit with every stroke. You moan into the kiss, a string of spit between your mouths when you separate long enough to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” The word is whispered, but that doesn't stop Remy from catching it. He lets out a low laugh, collecting your wetness as he grinds.

“You ready for me?” He asks. You nodd, closing your eyes as you eagerly wait for the stretch of his cock. Exempt, he stops.

“I need you to give me a yes, cher.”

“Yes-” He swallows the rest of that word in an eager kiss, finally sliding into your heat inch by inch. You both moan in union, feeling every inch of that slow stretch. He's cold. Not freezing, but cold. It's unlike any feeling you've felt before, and surprisingly, you want more of it.

His body begins to warm a little more everywhere the two of you touch- and god, does it feel good. Remy favors a steady pace, with powerful thrusts that hit you right every single time. It felt like he was made for you, and he most definitely felt the same. Remy kisses you like a man in love, fucking you in a way that makes you see rings instead of stars.

Every smack of his hips against yours is rather careful, measured even. It's only when he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach like a ragdoll that you realize the kind of strength he holds- suddenly grateful for his caution. He's quick to go back to rearranging your insides once he has you on your knees, front pressed against your back as he kisses at the nape of your neck and slides his arm around your front, palm splayed under a boob with his thumb on the valley between.

“Look at us, love.” His chest rumbles against your back, and it's not even a whole minute before the position changes again, Remy pulling you against him as he sits up onto his knees, holding you steady as he makes you face the mirror.

You wish that you could see his reflection in that mirror as you gaze upon the sight of you, red face flushed and needy. You don't see the way he holds you pressed so tightly against his chest, or the way he admires that evocative image of you, shaking with each thrust.

“Aren't you a sight, bele.” His breath is cold against your ear, his hand coming down to circle your clit as his thrusts pick up in pace. You can tell he's close, reaching that peak just as fast as you reach your own. You grasp at his hands, moans and whine only getting louder as that pleasure gets ever-so-close.

His groan against your ear is unnecessarily hot, his thrusts stuttering right before he pulls out of you. His cock rests just below your lower lips, using the friction of your thighs as he reaches that high. He cums in thick streaks, your own release following directly after.

There's a buzzing sound right as Remy sits back, placing you in his lap as he kisses across your shoulders sweetly. You relax against him, boneless as you both try to catch your breath. The buzzing stops for a moment before it continues again. You hardly register the noise, and are certainly in no condition to try and find the source.

When Remy looks over to the sound, he finds your phone hiding beneath the scattered clothes on the floor. It's his shirt, and he reaches over to grab it. The phone is set to the side as he maneuvers you around, dressing you in his shirt like a gentleman.

“Cher?” You hum, only halfway aware at the moment as Remy calls your name. He hands you your phone, and you open your eyes just enough to unlock it and see the fifteen missed calls from Ashley and Sophie.

“God damnit. Can't I have any peace?” You curse. Remy laughs, watching from over your shoulder as you check the additional excessive Snapchat messages from them.

“Maybe we should send them a message, no?” Remy reaches over to your phone, swiping over to the Snapchat camera, angling it to where both of your sweaty, disheveled faces are inframe, along with the line of purple hickies that trail down your neck. Jesus christ, you were about to fuck him all over again for even suggesting this. Who knew you were into revenge like that?

“Oh fuck yes.”

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

Text

Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care?

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you. Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist."

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you.

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her.

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities, so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together."

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay.

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately.

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked.

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion.

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children. And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire."

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture.

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century.

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone.

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety.

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again.

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch."

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?"

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse.

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger.

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd."

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver.

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers.

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago.

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief.

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so.

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone.

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain.

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #kinktober 2023 #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots

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appocalipse · 10 months ago

Note

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon.

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great."

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well.

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway, hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words.

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe.

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over.

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

[join my 3k followers celebration! ♥]

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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skzdarlings · 8 months ago

Text

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness. Everything feels romantic. Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix, Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium. He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance.

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate. A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in. Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad. He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek.

You poke that cheek. A muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.

“Do not,” he says.

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.”

You obey his demand for silence. For about six seconds.

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably.

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says. “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed. You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him. Felix sighs but slows his pace. To your surprise, he answers your question. “A month,” he says. “I’ve been working there a month.”

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say. “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop. Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together. He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.

“I already told you,” he says. “My job is checking tickets. Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.

He smiles. It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow. He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart? You can’t hold one down. You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they? Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring. And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it. Except by acting out. It’s fun, right? Looking for trouble. Makes you feel something for a minute. Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside. You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped. Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth.

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues. “You told me I was a good boy, yeah? Your words. And you think you’re bad. A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?”

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature.

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says. “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you? You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay. But you don’t make it easy. And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.”

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface. To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background.

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask.

He is still smiling.

He laughs, a low chuckle. He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight.

“No, I’m not,” he says. “I’m just the same as you. Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time. Just so good, you know?” He is almost theatrical in tone. “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you. Isn’t it?”

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips. It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes.

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper.

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good. If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours. He abruptly steps back.

Oh. You blink quickly. Yes. Of course. It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it? He does not need to flaunt it. He can just smile at you.

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his. He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street. So seemingly innocent. Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat.

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples.

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs. He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life. It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are. “I’m not sick. See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run. Twisted, on the other hand… well…”

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate. You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you.

You smile back at him.

You still intend to win.

It is a twenty minute walk. Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations. Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires. He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed. Very, very detailed.

“Um, right,” he says. “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.”

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario. He looks a little wan.

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished.

“I dunno, get creative. My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh? Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out. Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end.

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says. “I am standing right beside you. You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.” You do not bother hiding your texts.

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies. “It sounds like my business.”

“Well, it’s not. We’ve already established the world revolves around me. You’re the supporting character, pal.”

“Right,” he says. He blinks at the screen. In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?”

It never hurts to be thorough. You type the address and send it to the boys.

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes.

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat. “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over. “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt. “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow. “Is this what you call winning?” he asks.

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows. “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say. “And my opinion is the only one that matters.”

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown. Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips. He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him. “Come on,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse. You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house. Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway. It is an ostentatious design to say the least. You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties. “This place belongs to my parents. They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.”

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach. “About your background, I mean. You and me really are alike.”

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings. Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite. It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door.

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks. He stands silent for a long moment. When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say. “You know.”

“Uhh.” He blinks quickly. “I have feelings all the time. Every day.”

“Wow,” you say. “That sounds exhausting. Explains a lot about you.”

“All right.” He shakes his head. He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look. You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door. The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing. It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping. Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire. You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips.

Felix is none-the-wiser. He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code. It beeps and goes quiet. You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight. He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans. Unassuming, gentle, sweet. Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass. But he can. He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you.

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space. You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack. The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care. The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name.

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts. “Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away. You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing. Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft. It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky. And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you.

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says. “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.”

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him. The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality. Mutual objectification is more your style. Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings.

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door. “It’s freaky.”

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking. Ugh. You shake it off and push open his bedroom door.

He shakes his head and leads you in. He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison. His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets. Yes. That is more your thing. Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core. You want him to lose control. You want to drive him crazy. You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer. A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top. He takes it out and immediately unlocks you.

The cuffs fall to the floor. He scoops them up and jingles them in your face.

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say. “You evil son of a bitch.”

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings. But he knew you wanted to play him. He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer. Now there is no reason to linger. Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again.

He is going to make you ask for it.

That is not your style. You hate being out-smarted. And you really, really, really hate losing.

“Right,” you say. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom. It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights. You are swimming in blue, breathing it in. His hair, the room, and moonlight.

You will never see this colour the same way again. Of that much you are certain.

“Blue,” you say.

His brow crinkles. “Blue?” he repeats.

“Mm.” You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze. “Red. Yellow. Green. Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath. The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you. He is dazzling. This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room. “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…”

“Uh-huh,” he says. He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely. Now he knows what you are capable of doing. Now you understand each other.

He follows you, assessing every step you take. There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more.

“And what does blue mean?” he asks. “To you?”

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins. So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting. The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces.

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth. His confidence is easy. He needs no grand display of machoism. He just smiles that pretty pink mouth. The glitter on his cheek sparkles.

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says. Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.”

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand. You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table. You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well. Because it is not as though he loves the clock. It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents. You can read him that easily too. He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks. He likes neon and blue and you.

“Put what back?” you ask. You have reached the front door. Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob.

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says.

You push the door open.

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say. With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?”

Red to stop. Yellow to pause. Green to give in.

“Blue,” he says. To play.

You smile. You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.”

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came. He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t make me do this.”

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice. There is nothing soft about him. He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body. You feel each glance. A shiver races down your spine. Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze.

It also gets you so, so hot.

All that tension snaps.

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate. You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe. You show him no mercy this time. Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again.

You glance over your shoulder. He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused.

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again. Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you.

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth. You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block. There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes.

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you. You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone. A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you.

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes. Your heart leaps. The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend. You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light. You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds. But running on the road will expose you too quickly.

You will not surrender that easily. He knows that.

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea. You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow. He is not behind you so you race back to his house.

There is no way he will circle back here. He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates. He would never guess you ran back into his house. Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait.

You run back up the driveway. The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked. Nope. He locked it. Maybe that is why he was delayed.

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in. But no, you are still winning. He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows. You do not think he had time to set the alarm. Did he? Maybe that is why he was so far behind.

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard. You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape. The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around. There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit. In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight. Of course.

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath. You strategize your next move. Should you pose on one of the pool chairs? Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum. Someone is making their way down the side of the house.

You panic. You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide. You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it.

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard. He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered. He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open.

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence. You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.

“I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You should have known better. Of course he had the same idea as you. Now what? How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move?

You peek around the storage trunk. Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight. Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut. He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock. He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him.

So that is why he took so long. He unlocked the gate before giving chase. He laid a trap and you ran right into it.

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper.

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly. It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches.

Your heart tempers itself when he stops. He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard. “You don’t need to hide. I promise I’m not mad.” He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees. He hums thoughtfully to himself. “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…” He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning. “Hmm, hmm, hmm…”

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin. You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him. You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you. So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him. You almost want to scream. He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him.

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone. He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble. Even though you are far away, it makes you jump. You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping.

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it. He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing. Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile.

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says. “I thought we were turning into friends. Don’t you want to be my friend?”

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table. He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you.

He is giving you time, you realize. He wants you worked up. He wants your heart racing. He wants you quivering and soft and afraid.

You look around frantically, searching for an escape.

Your hope rises then plummets. The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap. It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you.

You jump at another slam. It was the shed door. He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside.

“Come on,” he says into the shed. “Don’t be scared.”

You take a deep breath. You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned. You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can.

He is just as quiet. You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena. Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth.

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him.

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth. He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand. “Yeah, that’s it,” he says. “Fight me. Brat.”

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before. There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front. You kick your legs as he straddles your backside. He brings your hands together on the base of your spine.

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration. Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back.

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up. He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it. You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm.

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth. It hovers like he expects you to start screaming. You just exhale heavily, glaring. “All right,” he says. “Very good. Come on.”

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground. He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him. He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way.

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs. He catches you quickly. You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again.

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between. With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together.

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly.

“Not quite,” he says, laughing. “I’ve been picturing something else.”

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open. The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier.

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough. You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard. But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand. It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand.

“This is what I was picturing,” he says. It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper. His lips graze your ear and you shiver.

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth. A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart. His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons.

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you. “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more. “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?” You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips. He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly. “God, that’s hot,” he says. “You might be a brat but your pussy... It’s begging for it, isn’t it? Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm? Hmm?”

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns. You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.”

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply.

“You can do better than that,” he says. “Come on. Show me how much you want it. You can’t lie to me, sweetheart. I can feel it, hmm? Gonna feel it when you come. Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that? What’s it want?”

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuck you. You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need. You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right? Go on. Show me you want it. Show me.”

Your chest is heaving. Your eyes close. You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately. It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking.

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you. He knows you are about to come. This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand. You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you. The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue. He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch.

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth. You catch your breath, slumping against his chest.

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head. You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth. You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers. You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself. Strands of blue fall across his forehead. He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel.

He grins around his fingers. Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his. He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths. His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his. You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses.

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly. “Because for what we do next…” He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is. “Yeah, sweetheart. For that, I need all of you.”

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you. You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright. You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath.

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone. You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch. You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant.

You follow him to the open door. One step, two steps.

Then you say, “Blue.”

You take off running into the house.

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you.

He slams the door shut behind him. You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside. It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape.

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide. There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances. Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard. And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about.

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice. His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual. “Stop hiding. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…”

You peer at him between some boxes. He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too. The glittering amusement has left his eyes. They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air.

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it. He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place. He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables.

You shuffle with him, moving when he does. He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses.

“Come on now,” he says, turning around. He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple. “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says. “I know you, sweetheart. You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah? Hmm. You’re fast. I bet you’re flexible too. I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions. Get you making all sorts of noises for me…”

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move. Your limbs are still shaky. Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch.

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses. Did he hear that? Maybe not. He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs. It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs. In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.” Then he smiles again. He turns in your direction slowly. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you. Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house.

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good. You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.”

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet. It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says. He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you. “Don’t make me come get you,” he says. “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

You shuffle to the side. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs.

“Right,” he says. “Fine. We’ll do it that way.”

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away. You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on. It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide.

You can hear Felix stomping after you. You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide.

You yelp when he bursts in behind you. This time, he does not give. He grabs you roughly when you try to run again. With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder. He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back.

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom. “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?” He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him. He smiles. “Worth a shot, no?”

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says.

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you. He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans.

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him. “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.”

You were right. You will never see the colour blue the same way again. You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again.

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open. He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough. He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick. He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water. You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face. He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars. Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, baby,” he says. He reaches down to wipe a tear. “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle.

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach. He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress. Then he swoops up. He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything.

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips. He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.”

“Oh god,” is your rough reply.

“It’s Felix,” he says. “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He has a condom in his bedside drawer. Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?” He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips. You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy. “No, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m gonna have all of you. And you – are gonna – take it.”

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you. You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more. When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before. You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you. You let them melt into the physical sensations. When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you. You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says. Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His face is in your neck when he laughs. It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you. He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes. It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs.

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle. He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it. Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes.

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says.

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck. You get uncharacteristically bashful. Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much. Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed. Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile.

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks.

You nod. He smiles.

“Me too,” he says.

“That’s nice. Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh.

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes.

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while. You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light. You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress.

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head. “What! Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning. “I better be prepared.”

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you. I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says. “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back. “I still won this round.”

He lifts your face so he can look at you. Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you. You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore. Vexatious vixen, indeed.

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you say. You kiss again, long and sweet. Then you bop him on the nose. “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head. Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.

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