#its also 9k words

[cl0udl3ss-sky]

Trial by Fire | Arcane Odyssey oneshot

I just finished up another thing, Recovery, but since this takes place before that I'm posting this here first, even though its been up on AO3 for like a month. https://archiveofourown.org/works/48037168/chapters/121121560

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[lloydskywalkers]

three sword style

Or, Lloyd and his evolving relationship with what it means to choose a weapon, as supervised by Kai. listen I know Wu technically gives them all their new weapons in season 11 according to some random book referenced in the ninjago wiki (or at least Lloyd’s sword) but you know who ACTUALLY has a degree in making weapons and canonically has made a golden sword SO. My canon now. (also spot the brain rot I infected myself with in the title) 

Lloyd grows up in a world of weaponry and at the speed of light. 

There are worse ways to grow up, maybe. There are also better ones — one where kids get to grow up instead blasting into teenager-hood in the span of seconds — but Lloyd doesn’t like to complain about where he’s ended up. 

Second to the speed of light thing, though, the weapons part is pretty big. 

Weapons determine the single biggest turning point in his life, after all. It’s the Golden Weapons that make him the Green Ninja, a title that’s a lot more important than Lloyd’s ever been. It’s also that particular title that makes Lloyd the weapon, so that’s fun. Ninjago’s prophesied emergency failsafe, the Green Ninja — that’s him. 

On a nicer note, it’s the Fangblade that gets him a big brother, and proves that there’s someone out there who cares about Lloyd over some stupid weapon, so hah. 

Getting back to the point, though—

Weapons. Lloyd’s been making do without one, and he’s been making pretty good do, thank you very much. He’s got his power, and he’s got himself. That’s all the weapon Lloyd needs. 

But no one else seems to agree, and since ninety percent of the time whatever prophecy-of-doom crops up this month involves cursed weaponry of some sort, they all figure it’s a good a reason as any to stick Lloyd with a reliable weapon. 

And while wielding all the elements is one thing, wielding every kind of weapon at once would be kind of difficult, even for his dad. 

So Lloyd finally gets an actual, for-real, decision that he gets to make all by himself. 

It’s a monumentous occasion — and yes, that is a word, Nya, Lloyd knows some stuff — so if Lloyd was smart he’d treasure it and take his time. 

With that in mind, it takes all of thirty seconds for Lloyd to choose. This is only mildly insulting to some parties. 

“Fine, sure, go with the most basic pick in the world,” Jay scoffs. “Swords. Boring.”

“Sounds like you’re just jealous,” Kai shoots back.

“Jealous of swords? Please. I just thought Lloyd was a little more creative than that.”

“I like swords,” Lloyd says, at a loss. 

“Jay is only relieved that no one will one-up his nunchuck expertise, now,” Zane smiles. 

Jay sputters indignantly. “No one’s one-upping me, I’m the best there is!” 

“Uh-huh,” Cole shakes his head. “Well, if that’s what Lloyd wants, that’s the end of it.” His mouth quirks. “Means more training time for Kai, anyways.” 

“More training to be better than you,” Kai retorts. 

“Like the rest of you, Lloyd will continue to work toward mastering at least the basics of any weapon,” Sensei Wu sighs. “A ninja confined to one weapon alone—”

“Is a dead ninja,” Jay nods.

Sensei Wu cuts his eyes at him. “That is not how I was going to finish.”

“The point stands though, right?”

“The point,” Sensei Wu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that while Lloyd will continue to train with all of you, focusing on swordsmanship will become the priority. So yes, in a way. More training for Kai.”

Lloyd rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry…?”

“Why are you sorry?” Kai beams, more proud than smug. “I finally get an official katana apprentice. We’re gonna be awesome.”

And that alone, Lloyd thinks, makes it worth all the complaining. 

“Great,” Jay throws his arms up. “Now we’re stuck with two slice ‘em dice ‘em ninjas.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Cole says. “It’s Kai, how dangerous can he be.”

“I resent that,” Kai says. “Just because you beat me once or twice—”

“Try thirteen times, and counting.”

“—it does not mean I’m not as dangerous as you,” Kai narrows his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Wanna prove it?”

“Bring it on, rock man.”

“Not in the kitchen, for FSM’s sake—“

Whether or not Cole beats him (which he does, pretty badly, because Cole is kinda terrifying like that) Lloyd knows that to some degree, Kai is dangerous. Very dangerous, with or without his swords.

It’s hard to think of Kai like that, though. When Lloyd thinks of Kai, he thinks of warm arms wrapped tight around him in the Fire Temple. Thinks of the first hugs he’s gotten from someone other than his father that felt like home. Thinks of protection — thinks safe. Thinks family. 

He’s wanted to be like Kai for a while, now. So yeah. It’s an easy choice. 

Plus, swords are way cool.

______

Kai starts training him in Dareth’s dojo. It takes about a week for them to get banished to the roof of their apartment, which is mostly Lloyd’s fault — but Kai’s the one supposed to be teaching him, so he can take the blame this time. 

…well, maybe Lloyd’s the one who keeps losing his grip on the katana, but that’s not quite his fault, either.  

Kai is better than basically any swordsman on this side of Ninjago in years, if not all Ninjago. Lloyd knows this because Uncle Wu told him so, and because Kai wipes the floor with him the first, second, and twenty-ninth time they spar.

“The point is to keep your grip on the katana, you know,” Kai says, as Lloyd retrieves his sword from where it went flying (again). “What kind of hold it that supposed to be, butterfingers deluxe?”

“You said not to grip it too tight,” Lloyd complains. 

Kai rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause you had it in a death hold. I didn’t say, ‘let go and let it fly’.”

“I didn’t let it fly, you knocked it out of my hand!”

“Aha, so you’re admitting I won. Again.”

“N-no!” Lloyd protests. “I’m just warming up. I’ll show you this time.” 

But as Kai takes his stance again, his own katana held with a kind of grace Lloyd has zero idea how to ever accomplish, Lloyd thinks he might be a bit of a lost cause. 

It’s difficult, because every time he goes to swing his sword, his power thrums in his blood, in his hands, always ready to lash out. It’s quickly become a habit, to start every fight slinging green blasts around. Lloyd’s already grown fond of the little bell-like sounds his power makes, the steady pulse as bright green builds in his palms. 

Lloyd is the Green Ninja, after all. His power is what makes him, well, him. He’s his own best weapon — he’s the one the prophecy needs to make things right.

Kai keeps putting weapons in his hands, anyways. 

Training katanas, mostly. He got to hold the Sword of Fire once, before his dad took it. It was beautiful — Lloyd kinda gets why Kai’s so up in arms about it getting stolen.

That and the whole don’t-give-Garmadon-the-Golden-Weapons thing.

Kai seems confused that Lloyd remembers it, which is weird because the Golden Weapons are kind of a big deal, but Lloyd decides to chalk it up to all the other weirdness in his life. 

The first true katana Kai ever gives Lloyd is…not quite as cool as the Sword of Fire, and definitely not as beautiful, but in a way that Lloyd likes. 

“We’re kinda short on weapons,” Kai admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I don’t exactly have access to smithing equipment right now, which means you’re stuck with one of my old ones. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Lloyd adjusts his hands around the hilt, taking an experimental swing. “This is a great sword!”

“Yeah, okay, liar — and don’t swing it around like that, you look like you’re waving a pool noodle.” 

Kai grabs his hands, forcing Lloyd’s arms to hold steady.

“Like this, okay?” Kai says. “We’re gonna start by practicing single movements.” 

“Aw,” Lloyd visibly wilts. “More katas? I thought I was gonna get to learn some cool moves.”

“This is a cool move. If you’re good, you finish things in one hit,” Kai says. “One strike, and the fight’s over.”

“Like a headshot,” Lloyd nods.

“No,” Kai rolls his eyes. “This is not a video game. This is a real sword, and you’re going to learn to use it right.”

“And then we can do the cool moves?”

Kai narrows his eyes. “Do your katas or I’m firing you.”

Lloyd sticks his tongue out at him. “You can’t fire me. I’m the Green Ninja.”

“Yeah? I’ll demote you to Green Washer-of-Dishes for the rest of the month.”

“No! You can’t, Nya and I have a deal!” 

Jokes aside, Lloyd is sure to remind Kai, as he scrubs dishes and Kai dries them, that he does take training seriously.

He takes all his training seriously. It’s kind of his only job. 

Lloyd practices hits until his knuckles split and scab, masters high kicks with shins colored violent blues and purples, forms green starbursts in his hands until his fingers crack and bleed. 

When his palms blister from the sword hilt on top of it all, Kai makes him hold still until he’s wrapped the first-aid bandage around his hands at least five times, then shoves his old gloves on him when he starts to form calluses.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t need them, but Lloyd still wears the gloves everyday and tucks them away each night, storing them with the other few, treasured things he’s been gifted.

______

The longer he trains with swords, the more Lloyd gains calluses and nicked fingers and perpetually smells a little like cloves. 

That last part Lloyd enjoys, though he’ll never admit it. He’s not about to go and tell people he enjoys cleaning stuff, no thanks. 

But there’s something nice about helping Kai take care of the katanas, in a relaxing sort of way. The wood-smoke tang of cloves smells like home, which Lloyd treasures, because home isn’t something he’s very used to. 

Treasures is probably an understatement. Lloyd latches onto it like he’s starving. Part of it’s because this is something he gets to have with Kai, all by himself. He’s never had something like that before, either — a special thing that’s shared just with him. 

Well, maybe besides the green gi, but the Green Ninja is something that belongs to everyone. Whatever Lloyd does when he puts the green gi on is everyone’s business, since it determines the fate of the world or something like that, and it doesn’t really even feel like his. Not yet, at least. 

But sitting cross-legged in the weapons room while Kai teaches him how to clean katanas without damaging them — that belongs to Lloyd. 

He learns a lot with it too, because Kai always starts rambling about ten minutes in — not the confident, cocky way he does sometimes in front of everyone else, but in an honest way that Lloyd isn’t entirely sure he even means to be. 

“—not the best oil, but it works when you’re in a pinch. S’what my parents left behind, at the shop, so it’s good enough.”

Lloyd looks up at him, curious. He keeps quiet — Kai and Nya don’t talk much about their parents, if at all. Lloyd gets it, of course, but it makes the little tidbits they share valuable. 

“I don’t remember a lot about my parents,” Kai continues. “But I remember some things. About my dad. He was a great smith, I know that much. Could make about anything. Swords were his favorite, though.” 

Uncle Wu’s candlelight casts Kai’s eyes with a glow that makes it seem like he’s on fire himself, flickering and fading. He looks very far away, all of the sudden, and Lloyd has the urge to grab for his arm and make him stay here. 

“Guess I latched onto that,” Kai smiles ruefully, and he’s back again. “Never could reach his level, but I learned how to make an okay sword.”

Lloyd chews on his lip. He knows all about latching on to your parents — wanting to be great at the things they are.

That maybe, if you’re good enough, they’ll be proud enough to come back. 

He doesn’t think that’s a happy thing to say, though, so he tells Kai instead, “I think your swords are great.”

Kai’s lips quirk. “Uh-huh. Then you better treat them like it.”

“I do,” Lloyd protests. He gestures at the katana across his lap. “See? I did it perfect this time.”

Kai nods his head at a spot Lloyd noticeably missed. He flushes.

“Almost perfect.”

“Practice, young student,” Kai says, in a gravely voice that’s probably supposed to sound like Uncle Wu. “A thousand hours of practice for you.”

“Ugh,” Lloyd groans. “All I do is practice. Practice practice practice, and then I’m still not enou—”

He cuts off. Oops. Maybe Kai’s honestly is a little too contagious. 

Kai goes quiet, hands stilling on the katana. There’s a deep furrow between his eyes as he stares at Lloyd, in a way that makes him feel a little like a bug under a microscope. Or that Kai can see right through him, which is bad, because all Lloyd’s got in him is a bunch of tangled thoughts and worries and nothing an actual ninja should have. 

“You know,” he says, carefully. “We probably need to stock up on the good oil. I’m kinda running low.”

Lloyd knows darn well Kai has enough choji oil to get them through an apocalypse. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kai nods. “If we go now, we can probably hit the convenience store, too. Get a sugar boost before—”

“I’m in!” Lloyd shoots to his feet before he can stop himself, any protests forgotten. Training has included a healthy diet lately, so Lloyd doesn’t collapse and pass out because his blood’s eighty percent sugar — Zane’s words, not his. 

If he needs to get his blood sugar up, why can’t he just eat sugar all the time? It makes no sense. 

“Do not tell the others,” Kai hisses, as they make their way into the city. “Especially Cole, if you don’t wanna lose your sweets before you can take a bite. We’re just getting polish for katanas, as far as you know.”

“I know nothing,” Lloyd says obediently. “Hey, do you think we could use olive oil on the katanas?”

Kai’s stare could heat iron. “I’ll kill you.” 

“It was a joke! A joke, heh.”

______

For all that Lloyd’s life revolves around training to defeat anyone and everyone, the guys are still weirdly protective. Over anyone and everyone, including Lloyd himself. 

“C’mon, I can handle the cool attacks,” Lloyd complains, as Kai drags him into place.

“They’re not cool — okay, they’re kinda cool — but that’s not what we’re learning now,” Kai sighs. “You’re learning Aikido. Well, a form of it, technically. It’s focused on defending yourself, but in a way that lessens the chances of injuring your attacker.”  

Lloyd frowns. “Isn’t that counterintoo — counterintuitive?”

“Big words today,” Kai mutters. He shakes his head. “And it’s counterproductive, by the way, but — no,  because now that we’re training, half your attackers are us, and I’d like to leave practice with my arms intact.”

Lloyd grins. “So you’re admitting I’m better than you.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Kai says pointedly.

“Don’t need to. You’ve already admitted defeat.”

“And, brat—” Lloyd yelps as Kai digs his knuckles into his hair. “Defending yourself is incredibly important.”

As they settle back into position, Kai pauses, a muscle in his jaw working. He looks as if he’s having an internal argument with himself, before finally sighing. 

“The thing about any weapon, but especially swords,” he says, correcting Lloyd’s grip on the katana. “Is that they can be used a lot of ways. But the one thing you never, ever want to forget—”

And Kai’s tone grows serious, his jaw tensing again. “Is that they can kill.”

Lloyd looks down, to the sharp edges of the blade. It suddenly feels a bit heavier, and the room just a bit darker. 

“The way we’re training you, the way we were trained, we don’t always — we try to avoid it.” Kai’s voice wavers, and for a moment, Lloyd remembers that Kai isn’t all that much older than he is. 

Well, now, especially. 

“But sometimes, it’s…you don’t really…well.” He lets out a breath. “This is a sword. It can take a life really quick, if you aren’t careful. And sometimes, you don’t get the choice to be careful or not.”

Lloyd swallows. He hasn’t thought about it much — hasn’t wanted to, but it lives in his mind like a terrible itch he can’t get rid of. 

He’s no stranger to the idea of killing someone. Darkley’s was blunt as it was cold. But as a ninja, it’s suddenly realer than it ever was in school. 

As the Green Ninja, with his destiny drawn out in front of him, it’s pretty much unavoidable. 

He’s going to kill his father, or he’s going to die. 

Kai’s hands grab tight around his shoulders. “We’re gonna do everything we can to make sure you don’t end up in that situation, okay?” He gives Lloyd a small, strained smile. “Don’t ever feel like you have to change who you are, just ‘cause you’re a ninja now.”

How do you know who I am, Lloyd wants to ask. How do you know I’m not a murderer? How do you know I’m not awful? 

Kai’s eyes are impossibly kind and far, far too knowing. 

“But,” and his tone grows serious again. “If it’s your life or theirs.” 

Lloyd feels a bit like the oxygen’s been sucked out of the room. 

“Promise me. You have to promise — you will always, always choose your own.” 

Lloyd stares back. Kai gives him a little shake.

“You promise me?”

Finally, as if moved by puppet strings, Lloyd nods. 

“I promise,” he rasps. 

Kai looks relieved, but it’s not quite in a happy way. “As long as you come back alive, that’s what matters. I don’t care what else happens — you come back alive, and we’re good.” 

“Okay,” Lloyd says. His eyes feel wet. It’s strange, someone caring so much about something like that.  

“Which is why,” Kai says, finally stepping back as his tone lightens. “You’re gonna nail that block this time. Or I’m making you polish every weapon in the dojo again.”

“Oh, no,” Lloyd stares at him in horror. “I’ve been practicing that stupid move for hours!”

“And you’ll be cleaning weapons for hours if you don’t get it.” 

“You suck,” Lloyd grumbles. “Worst teacher of all time.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kai claps him on the back, and Lloyd lets out his own sigh of relief at the lightened atmosphere. “You’re the one that picked swords, buddy.”

______

Kai’s a hypocrite, though, and Lloyd could hate him for it, because as they slide down the snowy mountain-side, Lloyd’s body clashing against his family in ways he’d never, ever let it if he had control, he has to watch as Kai — again — chooses a life other than his own. 

Because Kai doesn’t have the experience Morro does, but he’s better with a sword, he’s better than anyone Lloyd knows, and he loses. And Lloyd’s arm drags the Sword of Sanctuary up and Kai is a stupid, stupid, stupid hypocrite—

Lloyd’s angry enough that tearing control back from Morro is easy. 

He knows a thing or two about swords himself, and Morro’s holding it wrong, anyways. 

______

Training had already taken a hit after they lose Zane, for obvious reasons. Everything had taken a hit after they lost Zane, and between the tournament and Morro and everything else Lloyd’s pointedly ignoring, it’s suddenly been ages since he’s had a proper sword lesson. 

Kai decides to make up for it by finally teaching him the fun stuff. 

“Don’t — call it that in front of Cole,” Kai grunts over the loud screech of metal on metal. His knee bends, just the slightest tell—

Lloyd falls back, dancing away from Kai’s returning strike. He knows now, just how dangerous Kai can be — he’d like to forget it, but it’d be doing him a disservice. 

Besides, Lloyd’s had his body dragged left and right over Ninjago, used as the worst kind of weapon to hurt the people he loves, and they still trust him. Being on the dangerous end of Chen’s stupid staff is nothing to being on the dangerous end of a katana Kai’s made himself, and Lloyd’s determined to hold onto the faith he’s had since that day in the volcano. 

Kai won’t hurt him. 

He’ll kick his ass in training, though, so Lloyd had better get back with the show. 

He retaliates with a feint to the right — too obvious for Kai, but enough to steal his attention for Lloyd to land a high kick to his side.

“Watch that,” Kai scolds, forced two steps backs. 

“Why?” Lloyd grins over the edge of Kai’s blade as he catches his blow dead-on. “Scared I’m gonna beat you too soon?”

Kai snorts. “You aren’t beating me at all, shortstack—”

“Not short—”

“And,” Kai’s katana moves so fast Lloyd barely manages to dodge, rolling into a somersault before surging back up to meet his backstrike. “You’re advertising your weak point.”

Lloyd frowns. “S’not a weak point.”

Kai’s katana flashes — Lloyd moves right just before he realizes it’s a feint, cursing himself — then the hilt of his katana is smacking hard against a bone in his right ankle. 

There’s a hot flash of pain as his body completely betrays him, his ankle buckling and sending him stumbling with a yelp.

Kai’s expression isn’t gloating, at least. On the downside, he has that sad kind of look that usually means he’s feeling guilty. 

“It’s not usually that bad,” he tries, even as his cheeks flare hot. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Kai shakes his head. “You need to protect that. Make sure no one knows it’s a weak point but you. Putting it in reach of your opponent is a bad way to do that.” 

Lloyd grits his teeth, but he knows Kai’s right. He’ll never regret pushing himself the way he did, clambering up the tower steps on a broken ankle. The fate of Ninjago was a lot heavier on his shoulders than any thoughts of consequences. 

It still sucks, that it’ll never heal quite right. 

But it isn’t like he’s the only one with an old wound turned weak spot, he reminds himself, as he wraps his aching ankle once again. Jay’s got zig-zagging lightning scars all down his arms that ache during heavy rain. Nya can only rotate her arm so far before her shoulder goes numb, a souvenir from a broken arm. Cole’s the worst, maybe, with how he’s strained himself lifting impossibly heavy weights, fractured fingers and broken bones that throb in the cold. 

Kai’s got his own share of weaknesses, though he works hard to hide them. Lloyd’s managed to pick out most — some of them he’s helped treat himself.

He doesn’t like to think about those times, though.

“So I’ve got an idea for a move,” Kai grins at him, once Lloyd’s ankle is stable. “It’s gonna take some timing, but since I don’t have a weak spot there — you’re gonna run and launch.”

Lloyd tilts his head. “Launch off your right ankle?”

“No,” Kai rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go down for a handspring. When my legs are low, you’re gonna jump on, so when I shoot up—”

“Ooh, I go flying,” Lloyd concludes. 

“Exactly.” 

“Let’s do it! I’m gonna look so cool—”

“Okay, but we’re gonna look stupid as it gets if we don’t get the — timing, timing!” 

It takes about five tries to get it right. That’s all they agree on admitting to — the less said about the forgotten sixth and seventh tries, the better. 

But on try eight, Lloyd finally feels his left and right foot connect with Kai’s just as he hits the lowest point of the handspring — and this time, he remembers to bend his own knees and launch up, and with a sudden weightlessness, he’s flying. 

“Slash, slash, don’t forget to slash!”

 Years of training are the only reason Lloyd’s able to get his arms to obey him fast enough, the wind-up pulling on his shoulders before he sweeps the katana down, slashing out—

“Yes!” Kai’s cheer abruptly turns to a yelp as he loses his balance, crumpling to the floor. Lloyd’s already sprawled across the training mats, since landing was a whole lot harder than he’d planned for — but the training dummy is cut in half. One perfect hit. 

“Now, if we can just manage that in an actual fight, we’ll look awesome,” Kai grins.

Lloyd glances at him. “Are you gonna fall flat on your face then, too?”

Red stains his cheeks. “No,” Kai sputters. “That was — you didn’t see that.”

“Uh-huh,” Lloyd snorts. He tilts his head, considering the unfortunate training dummy. “Y’know, I bet I can manage a flip in there,” he mutters. 

Kai shrugs. “Yeah, probably.” He lips quirk up. “It’d look pretty cool. Y’know what, let’s go for it. I wanna see the look on Jay’s face when you flip down on him during sparring.”

______

It takes Kai all of ten minutes into the next fight to start regretting that one. 

“Got a runner!” Jay calls, as one of the thugs they’ve been rounding up breaks loose from where Zane’s kindly explaining the terms of surrender and Cole’s standing with his lava punch ready to show them what happens if they don’t agree. 

“I got ‘im!” Lloyd calls, darting after the masked man. 

He tugs his katana free from its sheathe, mind already racing. The time spent on his own, guarding his own back, gave Lloyd the rare opportunity to learn things in ways the guys probably would’ve had his head for.

With the lessons Kai’s drilled into him, the steady form of swordsmanship driven into his nerves, Lloyd’s found a creativity in tweaking things to match his style. 

So when the thug sprints past a number of abandoned boxes, scrabbling as he narrowly avoids stumbling on the concrete, Lloyd’s already got the perfect move in mind. 

Step, step, jump — tuck in tight, so there’s enough momentum to rotate at least twice — and bam, it’s like a wind-up toy. The more spins he gets in, the harder his landing is, disarming the guy with a perfect slash while kicking his teeth in. 

Neat and effective, in Lloyd’s opinion.

Sadly, his opinion is not shared. 

Kai sputters. “What was that?”

“Cool as heck, that’s what it was,” Lloyd grins. 

Kai is supremely unimpressed. “What did I say about wasting movements?”

Lloyd shuffles. “Don’t…do it?”

“Then why, exactly, did you feel the need to flip three — not one but three — times before striking?”

“Because,” Lloyd says. “It was cool. As heck.”

Kai pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Lloyd valiantly bites back any comments about him taking after Sensei Wu. 

“There’s a difference between adding your own flare,” he finally says. “And squandering your energy like a spinning top.”

“Squandering — spinning top—” Lloyd sputters. “Hey, I got the guy just fine, didn’t I? I didn’t squander anything.”

“And what’re you gonna do if someone wises up and snipes you mid-flip?”

“Who’s gonna snipe me, there are no snipers around, dummy—”

“There could be, hypothetically!”

“Hypothetically, please. You’re just jealous ‘cause you can only do two flips—”

“I can do sixteen if I want, I’m just smarter—”

Despite his arguments, Lloyd does resolve to try for restraint. Unfortunately, Lloyd’s also got the memory of a goldfish, so Kai should really know better. 

He just can’t help it. The next time they clash with a run-of-the-mill villain who’s stealing secret plans for bombs or whatever ridiculous thing it is that week, Lloyd finds himself on one building with the criminal on the next. 

The solution is obvious. Kai doesn’t agree. 

“FIVE FLIPS?! THAT WAS A THREE-FOOT DISTANCE!”

Lloyd carefully places the now-unconscious criminal on the rooftop, stands back up, and wisely back-flips the heck outta there. 

______

As his sword movements grow more complicated and the green power take a near-constant presence in his veins, the gentle pulse of energy as familiar as a friend, Lloyd grows stronger, too.

This kickstarts an entirely new problem, because Lloyd can’t go five steps without ruining something, it seems. 

In his defense, he doesn’t start breaking swords at a criminal rate until after Morro, so Lloyd’s gonna blame it all on him.

He stares blankly at the katana in his hands — or the remains of it, to be exact. Half the blade is somewhere across the street, where it went skidding after Lloyd’s final hit snapped it clean in two. 

Kai stares just as blankly when Lloyd wordlessly offers the pieces up. 

“Okay,” he finally says. “Maybe I went wrong with the balance, or something? This was probably just a fluke.”

He turns it over, frowning. “Wouldn’t hurt to reinforce the next one, I guess…”

Reinforcements or not, it takes the third shattered sword for Kai to wise on. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lloyd warbles tearfully, the remains of Kai’s careful metalwork cradled in his arms. “I don’t know what happened, I was just swinging it, and it went — it went—”

“It went in six different directions, apparently,” Kai mutters. 

Lloyd slumps. “It was only four this time,” he mutters. 

“I guess this is what we get for training you as well as we did,” Kai says. “Cole and his super strength, I’ll never be free of it.”

“Didn’t he beat you by tripping you flat on your face?”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, oh cruel destroyer of my swords,” Kai scowls. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Lloyd protests. “I tried really hard this time, but the last guy had this giant bat, and I thought I could cut it in half, but I swung so hard I screwed up my strike and went…in six…different directions…”

Kai scrubs a hand over his face. He glances at Lloyd, eyes searching. 

“But you beat him?”

“Duh,” Lloyd says. The faith people have in him.

“And you didn’t get hit yourself?”

Lloyd shakes his head. “Not a scratch.” It’s not even a lie this time.

“Then I guess it was a noble sacrifice,” Kai sighs. “I can live with that.”

The katana’s sad remnants join the equally sad — and steadily growing — pile of scrap metal made by Lloyd’s awful sword skills. They have a pretty fun time melting it all down though, watching the metal bubble as Kai starts drafting the next run of layered steel he’ll shape into a katana. 

“I’m gonna be a master katana maker at this rate,” he huffs, wiping at his forehead. Lloyd, who’s hanging over the forge to watch the different colors the liquid metal makes, taps lazily at his knee with his foot. The forge flares brighter as Kai’s fire does, and he mumbles a distracted thanks. 

“A master hothead,” Lloyd says. Kai rolls his eyes. “If I ever figure out how to be a master swordsman, maybe you can take a break and figure out how to make other weapons.”

“Hey, I’m great at making other weapons.”

“Yeah, like ‘block of metal’ and ‘triangle of metal’ and ‘weird rectangle of metal’, and—”

“You’re gonna get a stick for next battle if you keep that up,” Kai growls, but his lips are twitching.

“Hypotenuse of metal,” Lloyd whispers.

“The heck, that’s not even a shape—” 

The forge grows steadily hotter as Kai works, bright sparks popping and steam hissing up in little curling wisps. It doesn’t bother Lloyd too much — ever since that day in the volcano, the press of heat is more like a second skin. He’s nowhere near as durable as Kai, of course, who could probably hop in the forge and come out with only a sunburn, but it’s enough to feel cozy instead of sweaty and dizzy. 

“Y’know, you don’t have to use a sword,” Kai says hesitantly, as he inspects a hammer. “There are a lot of other weapons that would fit your style. If you ever wanna try out a spear like Nya, that might suit you pretty well.”

“No!” Lloyd says sharply. Biting his tongue, he amends, “I’ve already been training with swords for forever. I don’t wanna change my whole style for something else.”

Kai eyes him shrewdly, but his lips finally twitch up in amusement. “If you say so,” he says. “But I swear, break my sword again and you will get a stick for your next weapon. Or chopsticks. A butter knife—”

______

Lloyd gets a new sword, of course. And another one. He might grouse and complain, but Kai doesn’t truly get angry about the swords. He does, however, get very angry over Lloyd’s total idiocy with what happens to said shattered swords. 

His first mistake is the usual one — Lloyd swings a bit too hard at a sloppy angle and there’s a high-pitched screech as the sword dies a sad death, splitting in two. 

Lloyd stares blankly at the now much-shorter katana in his hands, which is his second mistake. The delay costs him, and he scrambles to duck the thief’s vicious punch, their own sword having been knocked away in the scuffle. Their boot comes up, swinging for his head, and Lloyd springs back, landing palms-first on the floor and launching himself out of range. 

He also, unthinking, drops the broken katana — mistake number three. 

His fourth mistake is the worst one possible, because Lloyd brings his hand up to block what he’s sure will be another punch, only to get slashed by the jagged end of the katana he just dropped.

A sharp, burning pain explodes across his hand, and Lloyd stifles a shriek. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid move. 

The thief comes in for round two, Lloyd’s own snapped katana glinting in the fluorescent building lights, and Lloyd freezes. It occurs to him that he should probably just go ahead and hit the thief with an burst of green, but that’s also when Kai mows them down with a viciousness that reminds Lloyd — Kai always goes easy on him in training. 

“I had him handled,” he still protests, after the thief’s been hauled off to prison (or the hospital, possibly).

Kai ignores him, sheathing his katana and storming his way. 

He grabs Lloyd’s hand before he can protest, pulling back the torn fabric of his glove and slapping his own hood against the gash on his hand to stem the bleeding. 

“What did I say,” Kai says angrily. 

Lloyd flinches at the stinging pain in his hand, and tries to glare back. 

Kai’s having none of it. “Your sword is supposed to take the hits,” he snaps. “Not you!” 

“It did take the hit,” Lloyd finally throws back. “I just broke it, and — I was fine!”

“You hand’s bleeding all over my hood, that is not fine!”

“Then take your hood off and it won’t get blood on it!”

“My hood isn’t what I’m worried about!”

By the time Zane’s stitched Lloyd’s hand up, wincing barely kept at a minimum, Kai’s cooled down.

Somewhat. 

“It was an accident, okay?” Lloyd says, for the billionth time. “I didn’t realize he had a weapon. I wasn’t trying to sacrifice my hand, or whatever.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like something you’d do.”

“Coming from you, that’s somewhat hypocritical,” Zane murmurs. 

Lloyd snickers. Kai turns to Zane in utter betrayal. 

Of course, this means that Lloyd’s next lesson is how to treat sword wounds in emergency situations, in painstaking and excruciating detail. His hand stings every time he grasps the katana handle for solid week, though, so Lloyd takes equally careful notes.

______

Lloyd goes and breaks another three katanas after that. At this point, he kinda thinks Kai should just give up and let him go into battle weapon-less again. You don’t need weapons to do Spinjitzu. The green power won’t break, and Lloyd certainly won’t split into six pieces.

(He hopes.)

Kai keeps putting swords in his hands anyways. 

Lloyd could always just say no — he’s supposed to be leader or something, he can make his own decisions.

But he thinks of sparring sessions and smelling like cloves every other evening, thinks of the tiny dragons Kai still takes the time to carve into his katana handles, and throwing all that away would feel as great as sawing off his own arm. 

So he picks the katana up, does his stupid katas, and promises to do better this time.

That doesn’t magically fix things, of course. 

“How,” Kai says blankly, staring at the katana that now lies in a record eight pieces. 

“Um.” Lloyd twists his fingers together. “I definitely didn’t use it to prop open a door like you said never to do.”

Kai gives him a smile that shows exactly all of his teeth. 

“You have five seconds to run.”

______

All that training on treating sword wounds pays off. Possibly more than learning how to fight with a sword in the first place, when Kai drops in the middle of battle with a wicked slash across his lower thigh. 

“Of all the — stupid, embarrassing—”

“Shut up,” Lloyd says tightly. He’s already focusing half his energy on not throwing up at the amount of blood soaking between his fingers where they’re pressed tightly over Kai’s leg. “Stop moving, I gotta see if it — if it hit an artery.”

“It better not have,” Kai pants, wincing as Lloyd presses down harder. “If it hit an artery I’m screwed.”

“Shut up.” 

Lloyd’s heartbeat is a thunderstorm in his ears, panic welling up in his throat as Kai’s blood swims in his vision. 

“Hey, hey,” Kai’s hand falters, then clasps Lloyd’s own. “M’gonna be fine. Takes a lot more than a stupid leg wound to take me out.” 

“That’d be so lame,” Lloyd breathes, somewhat hysterically. He’s torn his own belt off for a tourniquet, which is step one, he thinks — hood can go around the actual wound, and if he steals Kai’s belt, then he can double reinforce it— 

“I can always cauterize,” Kai says shakily, sounding like he’d rather do anything else in the world. “It’ll be — move!”

Lloyd manages to roll them both out of the way as the assassin who nailed Kai comes in to finish the job, sword scraping sparks across the rooftop. Lloyd flashes a furious glare over his shoulder, mind racing as he holds himself in front of Kai. 

“Here.” The familiar hilt of Kai’s katana slaps against Lloyd’s open hand — the other is quick to follow suit. “Remember, double wielding — better for defense.”

Lloyd nods on instinct. He adjusts his grip on both swords, the blood on his fingers making the hilts tacky and sticky. It’s going to be a pain to clean later, a vague part of his mind notes. 

Of course Lloyd remembers dual wielding. It is better for defending, but you lose power on striking and reach — he can deal with that. Kai does. 

And it’s exactly what he needs, right now. The assassin won’t even get close to Kai.

One spin, then another. The katanas’ weight is familiar, balanced in the slightly-weird way Lloyd likes best, the way Kai makes all his swords. He finds his footing, finds the stance, and moves.

When Kai fights, he fights like the first flash of flame from a match strike — quick and bursting, fast enough it all but blinds the enemy. 

When Lloyd fights, it feels like dancing — slower to start, picking steps deliberately, building to that bursting strike faster and faster. 

It only takes one strike, after all. And Lloyd’s got two swords. 

Silver flashes across the rooftop, a piercing screech as one of his katana meets the assassin’s broader blade, forcing it back—

The assassin drops with a cry before falling silent, the shattered pieces of a katana scattered around him. 

“Saw that…one coming,” Kai moans. 

Still breathing heavily, Lloyd tries not to cringe.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, after Kai’s securely in a hospital bed and enduring Nya’s forty-five minute lecture about the many ways your arteries can kill you. 

Kai waves his hand, slightly cross-eyed and loopy from medication. “Y’know what? I wanted a new sword anyways. You saved me, so…skip the lecture and we’ll call it square?”

Lloyd lets a small smirk crawl up his face. 

“You know, I feel like there’s something very important you should keep in mind, about your weapons taking the hit, instead of you—” 

“When I get out of here, you’re toast.”

______

“I think I know where I’m going wrong,” Kai says. 

He’s spent the weekend with his father, the two of them either shut up in the forge or buzzing and forth about blacksmithing. It leaves Lloyd feeling a little weird — some mix between happy for Kai and achingly jealous, which then leaves him mostly just sad, which sucks. Lloyd sucks — it’s terrible to feel that way. Everyone was happy when Lloyd got both his parents back after that first battle, and even if he’s lost that — the least he can do is be happy for Kai and Nya. 

It ends up working out pretty great in the end, because Kai looks a little like he’s unraveled the mysteries of the universe right now. 

Half his right eyebrow is also scorched off, but Lloyd decides not to mention it for now. It’ll be funny to see the look on his face, when he notices. 

“I was talking with my dad, who’s got a lot more experience with this stuff, and he suggested something,” Kai continues. He fiddles with whatever he’s got hidden behind his back, and Lloyd has to stifle the urge to dart around him and see. 

“No more katana,” Kai says. “You’re good with ‘em, but I think we need a change-up.”

“You mean good at breaking them,” Lloyd mutters.

“If the sword breaks on you, it’s my fault,” Kai says. “I’m not exactly the world’s best blacksmith. Y’know, you should really think about getting someone else to—”

“No.” Lloyd bites his tongue immediately, aware of how bratty he sounds. 

And selfish. It’s not like Kai has tons of time to just make Lloyd swords all the time. 

As if reading his thoughts, Kai scuffs his hair. “Stop that. I like making swords.” The small edge of a smile pulls at his lips. “I worked pretty hard to become a blacksmith. So it feels kinda good, that someone appreciates the work for once.”

He shakes his head. “Anyways! Meet your new battle buddy. This is called a dao sword.” 

Lloyd stares at the curved, silvery blade Kai’s handed to him. It’s thicker than the katana he’s used to, the blade growing broader at the end before tapering off. 

“Historically, it’s better suited for quick slashing, but it’s fairly versatile,” Kai continues. 

Lloyd carefully lifts the sword, his eyes widening just a bit. 

“And heavier,” Kai grins. “Which means it’s gonna be at least a little more difficult for you to shatter.”

His hands fit easily around the handle — there’s plenty of room for a two-handed grip, and enough balance if he wants to switch back to one. 

“The guard’s a bit better with protection, and it’s got this tassel here you can wrap around your hand — yeah, like that — to help keep it steady. Or just look fancy.”

Stepping back, Lloyd adjust his hold. Normally he’d do something silly, or needlessly complicated, just to make Kai roll his eyes, but something about this one feels heavier — he doesn’t want to mess it up. He takes a single, experimental swing instead. 

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. “It’s sharp.”

“I’d hope so. What do you think I am, a half-rate blacksmith — don’t answer that, by the way.”

Lloyd simply grins, taking a few more swings. It is heavier than the katana he’s used to, broader and chunkier — but it feels at home in his hands. 

“It’s incredible,” Lloyd says, turning back to Kai. “Thank you.”

Kai colors, just a bit. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying! I love it. It’s perfect.”

“Well, as long as it holds up, that’s good enough for me,” Kai says, rubbing the back of his head. “Wanna give it a test drive?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd says. “I bet I can do even more flips with it.”

“And stab yourself in the leg in the process, but sure, go ahead, squander my gift—”

______

Lloyd’s careful, more so than ever, with the dao sword. When they all split across Ninjago, Lloyd clings to the piece of his family and tries to remember Kai’s instructions, making sure his hands are firmly wrapped and his right ankle always stays low. 

So when it breaks on the river with Harumi, Lloyd wants to cry.

He wants to cry for a lot of other reasons, but it still hurts — another thing he cares for that Harumi’s managed to break so easily. It hurts that they all work so hard, time and again, and it always ends up shattering around them anyways. Hurts that they pour themselves out for this city again and again and it’s still not enough. 

(Hurts that he’s never, ever going to outrun that worthless little kid in the snow.)

He learns, later — he’s got much more to lose to her than just a sword. 

It hurts all the same.

But the sword’s broken and Lloyd’s on a one-way collision course with his father, and it’s much too late to turn back now. 

Lloyd enters Kryptarium Prison with nothing but himself and his power. It was enough the first time, it’s got to be enough this one as well. 

Lloyd was enough the first time — if he isn’t enough now—

If he isn’t—

______

He isn’t.

He throws himself against his father and shatters his heart with every hit. Then the rest of him goes and shatters too, ribs cracking and skin splitting as he’s battered through walls and bruised against stone. His power sparks and screams as it tries to save him, pushed to its limits.

A part of Lloyd finds it funny — he can’t even keep his power together. He wonders if he’ll snap into six pieces and fly everywhere, just like Kai’s poor katanas, with nothing left but broken pieces of Lloyd to melt down for scrap. 

Kai doesn’t find it funny in the slightest. Not the muffled voice Lloyd hears breaking as his family tries to put him back together, not the filthy embrace Lloyd gets when it’s finally over, not the multiple hour-long lectures Lloyd’s forced to sit through even three months out. 

“I don’t care how many swords you break,” he hisses, giving Lloyd a shake that’s forceful enough his teeth almost rattle. “I don’t care if you shatter a thousand. They’re supposed to protect you. You’re supposed to choose yourself. Don’t you ever, ever, put yourself out there to break again.” 

Lloyd must’ve broken a hundred promises by now. He can’t seem to do anything right, truly — not being the Green Ninja, not being a good brother, not being Garmadon’s son.

But, as he nods and makes another promise, he can try. 

For Kai, he’ll try. 

______

Things are different, after his father, but it’s the same way things are always different after their family escapes by the skin of their teeth. Each new threat leaves another lingering wound, but Lloyd likes to think it stitches them closer in the aftermath. 

With everyone’s attention so laser-focused on Lloyd after everything, it makes it easier for him to spot the others’ bad days. 

It only takes him five minutes to track down Kai this time. Lloyd carefully lowers himself cross-legged next to him on the floor, katana laid across his lap.

Kai tenses, as if preparing for another speech. 

Please. Lloyd’s methods are way sneakier — and better — these days. 

“So,” he starts, as he dips the edge of a rag in Kai’s choji oil. “I was patrolling today, and I saw like, a demon cat, I think? I mean, it was definitely a cat. It looked kind of like the one Zane used to feed when we lived at the apartment, all stripey and stuff. I was gonna try and pet it, ‘cause patrol was pretty boring and what was I supposed to do, ignore it? So I did the whole pspsps thing, and it was not a fan — and I swear, it hissed at me, and it looked just like my dad. When he's all Oni, y’know? Which is rude, cats are supposed to be comforting, not traumatic—”

Lloyd’s rambling grows more and more nonsensical as he goes, jumping from topic to topic as he works on the katana. He can feel the tension seeping out of Kai where he sits beside him though, bit by bit until Kai’s finally leaning against his shoulder. 

“Missed a spot,” he speaks up suddenly, his voice only cracking a little.

Lloyd squints at the sword. “Where?”

Kai taps a bandaged finger on the blade. 

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. He adjusts the rag. “Thanks.”

 Kai speaks up again, after a minute, “You’ve gotten good at this.”

“Had a good teacher.”

There’s a faint snort. “Debatable.”

“With who?” Lloyd says. “I’m your number one sword student. And your only one. I win automatically.” 

“The others use swords. Sometimes.”

“Yeah, and Jay still whines every time the super special weapon-of-the-week to defeat evil ends up being a sword again,” Lloyd says. 

“S’cause Jay’s better with nunchucks. Totally different concept.”

“But he isn’t better with a sword.”

“Definitely not better than me.”

“I’m your best student,” Lloyd says. “Jay can’t be better than me. That’s illegal.”

“If the Green Ninja declares it,” Kai says, but there’s an edge of laughter in his voice, a thawing out of the numb blankness he’d worn earlier. He slumps, just a bit heavier, against Lloyd.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Kai mutters. 

“‘Kay.” Lloyd turns the sword over, squinting at his reflection. “Sometime, though?”

“If you can manage not to break anymore katanas before I finish your new weapon, maybe.”

“You guys won’t even let me out to fight,” Lloyd grouses. “It’s not as if I’ll have a chance to.”

Kai makes a huffing noise. “Maybe if you’d sit still long enough to heal—”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you,” Lloyd scowls. “Look, I know I messed up with — with her, but—”

“That’s not what this is about,” Kai says sharply. “It’s about you being okay.”

Normally, Lloyd would protest. Should protest — he doesn’t deserve to get off that easy. But Kai’s gone tense again, so he lets it go, just this once. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs anyways. 

“No, don’t. You’re doin’ good,” Kai sighs, and he sounds so very, very tired. “Just…take it easy, okay? ’Til I get your sword done.” 

“Sorry for breaking the old one, too,” Lloyd says. “I really did try to keep it safe.” 

“I’ll make you a hundred swords,” Kai says. “A thousand, if I have to. Just keep using them, okay? Swords are your weapon.”

Like Lloyd’s ever going to forget that, at this point.

______

It’s only after the Oni are more a memory and Lloyd has been subjected to an unholy amount of recuperation that Kai allows him to even see the sword he’s made this time.

It’s well worth the wait, though.

“It’s gold,” Lloyd murmurs, reverently holding the new dao blade. 

“Yeah, well,” Kai shrugs, a little bashful. “I thought you should match us, at some point.”

Lloyd has to try very hard not to pretend that doesn’t make a small, lingering part of him want to tear up.

“Is this jade?” he says instead, carefully tracing a finger over the single panel of green that decorates the blade. 

“Technically it’s jadeite, and no, you don’t wanna know where I got it,” Kai corrects. 

“I don’t care,” Lloyd says. “I love it. It’s the best sword ever. I — thank you, so much—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Kai says quickly. “You’re welcome, or whatever, just — you’ll use it, right?”

Lloyd gives him a long, flat look. 

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“You are not allowed to joke about that—!”

______

The golden dao sword never breaks. 

It takes Lloyd several fights with it to stop holding back, but once he realizes this sword won’t shatter to pieces in his hands, he lets himself get creative.

And the sword holds, again and again. 

Against Aspheera’s burning soldiers, against the bitter chill of the Never Realm, against the Skull Sorcerer’s monsters in the depths of Shintaro, against the heavy weight of water and cold crystal — the dao blade holds.

Kai tells him it’s because Lloyd’s finally learned how to stop using his weapon as a glorified baseball bat. Lloyd thinks it’s because Kai knows blacksmithing for ninja better than anyone else in the world.

His powers grow, too — along with his options, which he’d really have preferred to just…avoid. 

Real fun that it wasn’t the many years of pent-up anger issues, but crippling traumatic grief, that’s the key to unlocking his shapeshifting abilities. Hilarious. 

It still stings, a bit, that no one ever bothered to tell him he was walking around with the blood of two mythical beings just chilling in his veins, Would’ve been nice to know, maybe, before he got stuck having a whole crisis about it smack in the middle of another world-ending crisis. 

Oni, dragon, Green Ninja. Like he needs another title.

In the end, it doesn’t matter much what he thinks. Everyone moves on and Lloyd is a multi-bred freak of nature, or something. 

His father thinks he should hone his Oni powers. Sensei Wu thinks he should listen to his father but also remember his dragon side. His mother thinks he should read the eight-hundred page historical brick of a book about all known history of the Oni and the dragon. He doesn’t have a clue what his great-grandparents think of him, except that a family reunion would be world-ending levels of terrible. 

Lloyd, who’s grown attached to looking like himself and happens to like being human, keeps reaching for his dao blade first. 

Swordsmanship is something he’s proud of. He’s worked hard for it, through blisters and bruises and blood. It’s something that belongs to him and Kai, something shared and freely given. Something passed onto him, something taught and earned, something treasured.

Lloyd doesn’t have a lot of things like that, so he treasures it all the more himself. 

Treasures the humanity of his family, and how lucky he is to be part of that.

Treasures the things he’s learned from them like family heirlooms he’s never had.

Treasures the fact that they’re there—

Treasures the—

______

The monastery is so quiet, Lloyd’s starting to understand how people lose their minds.

Not really. He hasn’t started talking to himself yet, so that’s a good sign, right? It doesn’t count, if you’re yelling for other people. Doesn’t count if you’re screaming curses at your stupid grandfather who let your whole world split apart and tore away the only people that were yours. 

“It doesn’t count,” he whispers to the sword in his lap. 

Lloyd stares dully at his reflection in the dao sword, marred by the splotchy wear and ugly chipping at the blade’s edges. It’s in miserable shape, worn down and neglected.

A lot like himself, maybe. 

He shudders, drawing in a breath. Sulking won’t sharpen swords. And when Kai gets back — which he will — he’ll be so disappointed that Lloyd’s gone and treated his sword like dirt. 

The smell of choji oil makes his eyes sting, but the familiar sound the rag makes across the blade soothes it. 

He’s glad he took the time to sharpen it up, too, when he visits the city. More than glad when he finds himself atop the train, his missing hood leaving him distinctly uncomfortable as he prepares to fight. 

Lloyd’s hands have warped and twisted, burst in purple and grown claws sharp enough to slice. If he can make them his own again, after that, he can make them hold steady now. 

The handle of the dao blade is worn and familiar, the fraying tassel the same bright green where it brushes the back of his hands, and Kai’s voice yells in his head as loud as ever as he swings it once—

One flip this time, he decides. One flip, one strike.

Swords are his weapon, after all. It’s important for him to remember that.  

And even if he doesn’t—

______

Lloyd’s grown up in a world of weapons, and far faster than he probably should. 

But with every sword swing, every familiar callous carved into his hand, Kai’s there to remind him that his sword is the weapon.

And Lloyd, power or no power, is just Lloyd. 

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Au: Jason

there's something burning in the empty room inside my head fill it up with doubt let it in, let it spread

When Jason gets Tim's text in the groupchat, he ignores it. And then a short series of buzzes distract him from a drug bust. It hasn't even been that long since he reconciled with the family, with Bruce. He thinks that perhaps he should have left it sooner.

He glances at it momentarily when the buzzing stops and he doesn't need to knock out more guys. He sees Tim's question dedicated towards him, and his response is instant, his thumbs flying over in response.

He doesn't care, he's trying to patrol.

(He does not have Danny's number in this phone, it's new. A model from this year rather than one from four years ago. He wants that old phone back. He hasn't even looked at their old letters yet.)

(Jason bets that they've been packed away in storage with the rest of his things. He doesn't want to visit the manor, but maybe he should. Just to find those letters again. He's not sure if he's allowed to.)

And then Tim says its Danny, and Jason flies up to the past texts to find the photo before he can think. And then there is Danny staring right at him again, with the same old smile on his face that he always aimed at people. Lopsided, Danny's favorite kind of smile.

Something old, something new. He's got piercings, and his eyes are as blue as they've ever been. He has an undercut, it looks self-done. It looks good. He looks tired.

Danny's good at hiding things from people, it comes with the purchase of being a street kid. But Jason can't have someone else's back without knowing the ins and outs of the person in question. Jason knows when Danny is tired, and Danny knows when he is too.

Before his death, whenever Danny came over he never missed a beat in telling Jason that he looked like shit. Were Bruce's fancy rich-people, cloud-made mattresses too soft for him? He can find him a moth-eaten street mat for him if he needs it. It'd be like the good old days.

(Jason wishes he could have told him he was Robin, but it wouldn't be safe.)

Jason had to see him with his own eyes, had to confirm with his own eyes just how much Danny had changed. It's just his luck -- if he has any left -- that he arrives to Bruce's dumb gala just as Danny steps out onto their once-shared, west-end balcony.

He drops down, something heavy in his throat, before he can properly think it through. Danny looks up before his feet even touch the ground, like he knew he was there. Jason wonders if he did. There is a cigarette in Danny's mouth. Something old. And something flashes in his eyes that Jason cannot place. Danny looks tense.

Jason feels like he's made a mistake.

In the end, watching Danny walk away feels a lot like Jason is losing something -- or is he missing something? Is it both? He wants to reach out, grab Danny's arm, but his feet are glued to the balcony floor. There are so many things he wants to say, but his tongue has glued itself to the roof of his mouth. Something has crawled into his mouth and died.

So much has been said with so little words. He wants to spin Danny around and ask him so many questions.

What do you mean you spoke to my ghost?

What do you mean I told you the Joker killed me?

What else have I told you?

The Fentons were right?

What happened while I was gone?

Why are you scarred? Where did those come from?

(He is not blind. He saw those silver lightning scars etched into his best friend's skin, saw that it disappeared under his sleeves. Danny did not have those the last time Jason saw him, the last time he was alive.)

(The sight of it makes him alight with murderous intent. He wants to take his best friend by the front of his shirt and shake him -- who did this to you? Who did it? Tell him, he will fix it.)

(But he can't. He doesn't. Doing that means revealing who he is. It means telling his best friend that he has been alive for the last five years and he did not tell him. It would mean telling his best friend that he did not want him to know.)

You're going to kill the Joker for me?

What have I missed?

What do I not know?

You look so tired.

But before he can even get his mouth to move, Danny is gone back inside. The door swinging open, music once muffled now blaring out for only a few seconds before Danny is slipped back inside.

And Jason is left on the balcony, alone, with more questions than he thought he would have. He stares at the broken cigarette on the ground, it feels like a metaphor for something. Jason can't figure out for his second life what it is.

Maybe it's not a metaphor at all, maybe the curtains are sometimes just blue. Maybe sometimes your best friend just tells a vigilante that he is going to murder someone; that he is going to avenge his best friend with his bare hands and feel no remorse for it.

It is what Jason wants Bruce to do, wants someone who loves him to do. But he's not sure if its something he wants Danny to do. Not when he has been living a normal life -- or as normal as it could be -- without hide nor tail knowledge of what Jason used to do, or what he does now.

What have I missed?

Danny. He's missed Danny. He didn't look into Amity Park out of fear of what he'll find; of what he might do. But now Jason thinks he might have to.

Danny has talked to his ghost. Danny is going to kill for him. He has that look in his eyes that Jason knows so familiar; the one where he needs Jason to play distractor while he stole something from the corner store. The one where he looks a kid five years his senior in the eyes and kicks him in the dick because he cornered him and Jason, itching for a fight.

There's a look so familiar in his eyes; the one of a boy that's set his mind to something and he is going to do it. He can't call it the eyes of a cornered animal, because Danny has never been cornered, not when he's been with Jason. He calls it the eyes of a boy about to do something he will never regret.

He watches him leave with the Vlad Masters guy. He hides atop the roof and eavesdrops. The paparazzi have since left now that it was much later in the night; they are not the bigger fish, even if they sometimes parade it to be.

"I thought I told you to make nice." Vlad Masters scowls as he walks to the other side of the sleek black limousine. "To not embarrass me."

Jason frowns at the way he talks. His fingers itch, and something old lurches in his chest: the same old protectiveness that he used to feel whenever he and Danny were about to get into a fight. And then, later, when they would stand inside Bruce's galas with people who couldn't care less if they breathed or died.

Danny scowls right back at him, all venom and bite, and leans against the side of the car. "I did make nice -- as nice as I could when you dragged me here."

Vlad Master rolls his eyes, huffing. Jason's frown only deepens. It's not easy to make Danny do anything he doesn't want to. His sister has tried, so have his parents, as well as his teachers. But Danny is wild and so is Jason. Rebellion and disobedience -- no, independence -- cut into them from the streets like its broken glass.

Jason doesn't remember Danny ever mentioning knowing a Vlad Masters. They must have met after Jason died, then. He doesn't like him. He's the same as all the other socialites in that party. There is a greed in his eyes that Jason knows rots down to the core of him.

"I thought you would enjoy being here, little badger." Masters tries, and his tone makes Jason ruffle. As does the nickname. Danny's scowl only ever deepens, his fingers curling to dig nails into his palms. He looks at Masters like he wants him to burst into flames. "You are friends of the Waynes, I thought you would like the little reunion."

"Whether I did or didn't is none of your business." Danny says. The door clicks open on Masters' side, as if they remembered that they were on the street rather than in the car. Masters climbs into the back, and Danny opens the door. He only reaches in though, and pulls out a old hoodie.

Danny pulls it over his head, and his vest and button-down are hidden underneath it. "Don't wait up you old fruitloop, there's someone here I need to see." And he slams the door shut with more force than necessary.

(Jason makes a mental note to look into Vlad Masters. Who is he to Danny. How did they meet? There is an old animosity between each other that Jason has never seen before. Not even when they were on the streets. Not to this extent.)

Jason's heart seizes up. Danny's reminder early surges to the front of his mind. Right. That's right. He's going to go see him. Jason. He is going to lay flowers on his grave. He remembers that Jason likes zinnias. There are no florists open this late at night, Jason thinks.

He follows Danny from the rooftops. Danny sticks close to the buildings, slipping in and out of shadows. Jason wants to know where he learned how to do that. Where did he learn how to move without a sound?

Five years is a long time to be away from someone, Jason thinks. Something that fills him with dread. Five years is a long, long time. He's afraid that it's been too long. Will he still know Danny like he used to, if he asks? And if he doesn't?

More, more, more. More questions than answers. More things that Jason doesn't know about someone he used know to like the back of his hand. It scares him, and he hates it.

(There is scarring on Danny's hand that Jason has never seen before. Maybe that's the metaphor he was missing before. Maybe there are still more.)

Danny moves like a ghost down Gotham's streets, his hands shoved into his pockets without a care in the world. It is confusing. It is concerning. It is proof that more things have changed than Jason likes.

Danny somehow finds a florist open at this time of night, and buys a bouquet. And like he told the Red Hood, he buys zinnias. Reds and yellows. For a moment, Jason thinks that Danny knows. He wonders if he does.

What would he have told him, if he was a ghost? He told him that the Joker killed him. Maybe that means he told Danny he was Robin too, like he always wanted to. But couldn't, because it wasn't safe, and it wasn't just his secret to tell?

Why has nothing changed, now that he was alive again?

"Did you know," Danny starts, when he sits down at Jason's grave with flowers slipping gently from his fingers, before the tombstone below. Jason is as close as he can without being seen, hiding like a ghost. "That red zinnias mean stead beating of a heart?" He smiles sardonically, "You picked quite the flower, Jay."

(There is an echoing in his ears, Danny's voice faint in the back of his mind. Ghosts can hear you when you speak to their grave, did you know? Jason can hear him better than he should.)

Jason knows the irony. Perhaps it's got double the meaning now, now that he's alive again. Danny doesn't know that though, sitting before his grave with flowers that symbolize a beating heart. Between the two of them, Jason thinks that the only heart here is Danny.

(Between the two of them, the only heart here is one that's made between the two of them.)

"Yellow zinnias," Danny continues, resting his chin in his hand, "mean daily remembrance." His smile tilts on the axis of his mouth, a wrinkle between his brows. He looks pained. Hurt. There is no comment made. Like it doesn't need to be said.

Jason thinks he can hear it anyways, and his heart twists like someone took it and twisted it like a rag, trying to drain the dirty water out of the cloth. He hurts.

I miss you. Is what he hears. Is what Danny doesn't say. Is what Jason knows he's thinking anyways.

I am right here. Is what Jason wants to say, but doesn't. He is right here. But his feet are grave-bound to the floor, and a part of him feels like he's clawing out his own grave again. But the dirt falling is endless and merciless. He can't get free.

He bites his tongue, a lump in his throat. Shame wells in his heart and Jason wants to shrink away from this. His feet are grave-bound to the floor.

"I'm sorry for not visiting sooner." Danny says, hand dropping out of his chin to pick at the ends of his sleeves. His smile fades into a frown. His voice wobbles. "I'm sorry, I don't have an excuse. I should have."

Please don't be. Jason thinks. He doesn't think he can be upset about it, not when Danny is laying yellow flowers on his grave that mean remembrance. i think of you daily. Not when Danny was going to kill the Joker for him.

Jason still doesn't know what to think of that. He still isn't sure if it's real or not.

"I went to one of Bruce's galas today." Danny says, and Jason knows. He saw him there. Danny smiles weakly. "I know, right? First time in five years. Vlad dragged me along, you remember him right?"

No, I don't. Jason thinks, and he feels a flutter of anxiety. A sense of impending doom. A choking dread. What else have I missed? He thinks again. Why doesn't he remember? Danny told him about Vlad, but it can only be from when he was a ghost. How long was he a ghost before he was revived? How often did he and Danny speak?

Jason doesn't like not knowing things, he doesn't like not knowing things about himself.

It would be so easy, a little voice whispers, to reveal himself now. To step forward and take his helmet off. To tell Danny that he was alive. To demand answers that only Danny could know.

But then what? When Danny inevitably asks his own questions? About how long Jason's been alive? Why he was dressed the way he was? Why he didn't say anything earlier, on the balcony?

(But he did say it earlier, when he offered Danny the cigarette and silently asked him for his thoughts.)

Jason is afraid of what Danny might think of him, if he tells him what he's done. About the blood on his hands and the bridges he's burned. What if telling him is just more gasoline on another bridge, with Danny holding the match? He stays silent. Fear is a powerful motivator. It's a powerful deterrent, too.

"The asshole blackmailed me into coming." Danny says, drawing his knees up to his chest. He looks disinterested. Annoyed, actually. Like what he is saying isn't sending alarm bells through Jason's mind. Like what he's saying doesn't concern him. "It's really dumb, actually."

He sighs, long and tired. There is grief etched into every line and pore in his face. "I could have handled it without even needing to come to the gala, I've done it before." He mutters when his eyes open. His fingers brush against the petals of the bouquet.

(And that only sends more alarm bells ringing in Jason's mind. Red lights blaring. Distress fills the cavity of his lungs. What has he missed?)

"I only agreed because I missed you," Danny says, "and Bruce. He invited me to come over sometime soon, to catch up. I agreed and I'm not sure why I did."

Jason didn't know that.

Danny continues talking. Jason listens in dutifully. He feels like a stranger imposing on his own grave. It's ridiculous. It makes sense. He feels like he should slink away and let Danny talk to his grave in peace. He cannot bring himself to move.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's sitting in front of him, like it's the good old days and they're back in Jason's room in the manor. Staying up late and trading stories back and forth. Sneaking out to the balcony and climbing onto rooftops they’re not supposed to go on. 

Jazz is getting her psychology degree. Him and Sam had a big fight a few years ago, but they’re better now. Tucker wants to start his own tech business. 

And on and on Danny goes, rambling about every little thing he can think of in the last five years since they last talked. He jumps back and forth between topics, when he remembers something he cuts to it. And then jumps back off to the next thought passing through his mind.

"I don't know what I want to do." Danny says, finally, after he exhausts every other topic to talk about. "I wanted to be an astronaut, but now I'm not so sure." His knees draw up to his chin, and he looks so sad. He looks nineteen. Small despite his size.

Were they really just nineteen, verging on twenty? Jason feels older among his years. Fourteen feels so far away.

Danny breathes in slowly, it's a sound that trembles. From where he stands, Jason sees Danny's eyes film over with tears. He makes a choked out sound that sounds like a terrible mix of a laugh and a sob.

"Where did you go?" He whispers. He tries to smile, and it is this pained, awful thing that drops within a second. Fingers clutch at his legs, diggings wrinkles into the fabric. "I know you're still here. Where did you go?"

There is no answer. Guilt is an animal with claws, and it burrows into Jason's heart to make itself home between the tendons. Tears slide from Danny's eyes down his cheeks. He still cries for him, five years later. Five years after. Jason feels worse.

"I haven't stopped looking for you." Danny continues, his voice cracks, and the words run over Jason's ears like water sliding off a duck's back. He doesn't hear it at first -- no, he doesn't understand it at first. And then when he does, he plunges his hands into the waters of his mind to drudge it back up.

You're looking for me? Do you know I'm alive?

It's another question to Jason's never-ending list.

"You might as well tell me where you are now." He smiles again; tries to. It wobbles, lips pulling back to show teeth as more tears spill over and carve red marks down Danny's face. "Or I'll find Cujo and sick him on you. He's gettin' real good at tracking things you know."

Jason doesn't know who Cujo is. But it sounds like a dog. He knows Danny's always wanted one, but their apartments would never allow it. It's not like his parents could afford one either.

There is a silence that hangs over them, with only the sound of the city around them. Danny seems to tremble more and more as each second passes, until finally a bubble pops. His smile drops, and so do his knees that were pressed into his chest.

He doesn't say a thing, not with words anyways. He hunches over and hugs himself with nails that dig into his elbows, failing to stifle a years' old grief. Jason wants to flee, lest he breaks his word to himself and steps out to console and dry Danny's falling tears. It feels like a betrayal unto himself to only stand there and watch him drown in his grief.

Guilt is a thing with claws, and Jason leaves the cemetery with hatred eating his tongue. Danny deserves the privacy that a ghost cannot give him. Jason may no longer be a ghost, but he is still the next best thing. either way I'm left holding onto the shovel and rope digging in the dirt finding bones, finding ghosts

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: When he arrived in Hisui, he had nothing. Not even a name. He was given the name Nobori. Years later, he finds the name Ingo. Who is he?

It's MY turn to give Ingo identity issues! Also happy two year anniversary to me posting fic!

[glass-warehouse]

me @ kenshi

[lovethytendytenderly]

As per @ullybug it's wip wednesday and I sure have been working on my wips. chucking this one under a readmore cause its uhh, filth, pure filth. I dropped it into one of my gcs with the comment "Did anyone order a side of nipple play with this riding or just me?"

Ned sits there, not moving in Tristan’s lap, not letting him thrust, and plays with Tristan’s nipples. Every touch draws a moan from Tristan and every pinch a sob. Ned doesn’t neglect himself, reaching down to play with his own hard and drooling cock or fondle his balls whenever Tristan looks like he needs a moment’s rest. Ned gathers a handful of precum, thumbing at the head and feeling it spark up his spine, causing a feedback loop where he clenches down around Tristan which causes Tristan to thrust up into him which causes his hand to tighten. By the time he pulls his hand away to go back to playing with Tristan, the both of them are breathing heavily.

Tristan lets out a small gasp when Ned touches precum slicked fingers to his chest that has Ned feeling powerful. He loves the way Tristan looks under him; how trusting he is to let Ned do whatever he wants with his body. Ned pinches again, digging his nail forcefully into the small bud and pressing down. Tristan goes fully boneless underneath him, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Tristan doesn’t make a sound, just a slow exhale of air like a deflating balloon. His hands, Ned is proud to note, have not moved from where Ned put them.

Ned is going to remember this moment forever; Tristan perfect inside of and underneath him; Tristan’s pink and perky nipples matched only by the redness of his mouth; the look on his slack face blank and halfway to subspace just from this. Ned hopes he can get Tristan there by the time they both come.

[ceilidho]

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i was expecting another bear shifter update in like . idk a month? but damn better call you the pony express bc you delivered!!! fabulous, great, lifechanging. i love youuuuuuuu

i actually had quite a bit of it done already since i'd only really written for that fic since finishing my ghoap haunted house fic. and the way i write makes it sometimes kind of easy to finish fics because i tend to write non-linearly, like i'll write part of a scene from the first half and then ill write most of the ending and then ill write some of the middle, and then slowly ill start filling in the middle.

so it looks like parts/chapters are coming out in quick succession, but really i'd originally written "the whole fic" but just needed to add like an extra 1000 words to a specific scene before posting it.

thank you so much im glad you're enjoying it!!!!

[aphel1on]

trying to real quick edit like 12 fucking k to post this weekend bc BOTH of the next chapters of my wips got really out of hand

[jessiesjaded]

most interesting popular accounts to me are the ones that just post stuff like gifsets or art or writing but never ever say anything, like no tag rambles, no personal posts, no opinions, no rants. im always like surely.... surely you have something to say....

[flux1563]

FIRST OF ALL

tags : squirting, anal, pussy gaping, ass gaping, golden shower, kidnapping, gangbang

Words : 9k

Kim Minju was a picture of poise and elegance as she stepped onto the crimson carpet. Her heart raced in time with the flashing bulbs of the paparazzi cameras. She had spent hours perfecting her makeup and selecting the right dress, a delicate dance of silk that whispered around her legs with every step she took. The air had excitement, the kind that only comes from a night of glitz and glamour.

Minju's eyes searched the sea of faces, looking for her manager, Mr. Park. He was always there, guiding her through the labyrinth of smiles and small talk that made up these events. Tonight was no different; the award show promised to be a pivotal moment in her career. She had been nominated for Best Supporting Actress, and the buzz surrounding her performance was electric.

As the final award was announced, Minju felt a strange sense of calmness wash over her. It was almost as if the world had gone mute, the only sound being the rhythmic beating of her heart. Her name wasn't called. She forced a smile and clapped for the winner, her thoughts racing. Was she disappointed? Yes. But she also knew she had given her all. It was a learning experience, another stepping stone in her journey.

Mr. Park, noticing her expression, gave her a reassuring pat on the back as they exited the venue. The cool evening air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the auditorium. She took a deep breath, the scent of her favorite gardenia perfume lingering faintly on the breeze. The car was waiting, a sleek black sedan, its engine humming quietly.

When Minju opened the door, she was shocked to find four men already inside, leaving only one seat for her. They were strangers, their faces unfamiliar and expressions unreadable. Panic began to creep in as she scanned the vehicle. One man, tall and broad-shouldered, took up the entire backseat, his arms crossed over his chest. Another, with piercing eyes and a sharp jawline, sat next to him, his legs stretched out, filling the space. The remaining two were in the front, both dressed in black suits, one driving, the other glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Mr. Park's voice was firm, but not unkind, as he urged her to sit down. "Just for tonight, Minju," he said, his eyes holding a glint of excitement she hadn't seen before. "I've arranged something special to cheer you up." She hesitated, the situation feeling eerily wrong, but his assurance washed over her like a warm blanket, and she found herself slipping into the car, the door closing with a soft thud that echoed through her mind.

The man with the sharp jawline leaned closer and placed a cool, damp cloth over her eyes. "Don't worry, Miss," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "This will help you relax." The scent of mint filled her nose, and she felt a gentle pressure on the back of her neck. Her eyes grew heavy, and she didn't fight it. The last thing she heard was the soft rumble of Mr. Park's voice, promising that she'd be safe.

When Minju's eyes fluttered open again, the world was a blur. Her senses slowly returned, and she realized she was no longer in the car. The scent of the mint cloth lingered, but it was replaced by the faint smell of fresh paint and new carpets. She felt the cushioned leather beneath her, and the murmur of distant voices grew clearer. Her head swam with confusion as she tried to sit up, her body feeling weightless and disoriented.

The man with the piercing eyes and sharp jawline was the first to come into focus. He offered her a warm smile, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the situation. "Welcome to your surprise, Miss Kim," he said, his voice now a gentle purr. The room she was in was dimly lit, with walls lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes she knew she would never read. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the twinkling lights of the city skyline, a stark contrast to the cozy cocoon she found herself in.

"Where am I? What's going on?" she asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty. The men exchanged glances, and Mr. Park stepped forward, his own smile a little too forced. "You're in a safe place, Minju," he assured her. "We're just taking a small detour from the usual post-show festivities." The room spun, and she had to grip the armrest of the chair to steady herself. "But why? Where is everyone else?"

"Tonight, you're ours," the man in the backseat said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him, watching her with a hunger she couldn't place. "We've got a special evening planned for you."

Before Minju could protest, two of the men had moved swiftly and grabbed her hands, their grip firm and unyielding. The other two approached her from either side, and with a quick jerk, they began to rip at the delicate fabric of her gown. She gasped as the dress gave way, revealing her bare skin. The material fell around her in a pool of silk, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. A part of her wanted to scream, to fight, but she was paralyzed, her mind racing with the implications of this nightmare unfolding before her.

Her attempts to struggle were met with laughter from the men, their grips tightening around her wrists and ankles as they easily overpowered her. Despite her training in self-defense, she found herself utterly helpless. The man with the sharp jawline leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You're not going anywhere, Miss Kim," he whispered, his fingers digging into her skin. Panic set in, and she tried to pull away, but her efforts were futile against their collective strength.

The AC in the room hummed softly, blowing cold air across her exposed skin. Goosebumps prickled along her arms and legs, and she shivered. The two men who had been holding her hands moved to her sides, each placing a hand on the clasp of her bra. The anticipation was palpable, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. With a flick of their thumbs, her bra fell away, leaving her bare and vulnerable before them. The cool air from the vent kissed her skin, making her nipples peak, and she felt a warm rush of embarrassment spread through her.

The man with the piercing eyes and sharp jawline leaned in and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. She gasped, her eyes flying open. The shock of his touch was like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolting mix of fear and a strange, unwelcome arousal through her body. The tall, broad-shouldered man on the other side of her followed suit, his mouth moving down her stomach to the edge of her panties. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine, and she tried to squirm away, but the other two held her firmly in place.

"Please stop," she managed to whimper, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I'll do anything." The men laughed, their grips tightening even more as they continued to explore her body. The man at her breasts bit down gently, and she felt the sharp sting of pain followed by a warm wetness as he sucked. Her body responded despite her mind's screaming protest, and she couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips.

The man between her legs spoke up, his voice gruff with excitement. "It's getting wet here, are you sure you don't want to do this?" The question hung in the air, thick with malice and lust. Minju felt a rush of cold dread as she realized the gravity of her situation. Her body was betraying her, her arousal growing against her will. She knew she had to find a way out of this, to regain control.

With surprising strength, she jerked her legs up, catching the tall man off guard. He stumbled back, cursing under his breath. The man with the sharp jawline released her nipple with a wet pop, his eyes narrowing. "Feisty, aren't we?" He said, smiling wickedly. Before she could react, the two men holding her down had torn away her last shred of dignity, leaving her panties in their hands. They tossed them aside, revealing her shaved pussy to their hungry gazes.

The second man, the one who had been watching her struggle with a twisted smile, leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Wow, you treat your pussy so well, Minju. It's like a sweet, ripe peach." His words were like a slap in the face, a cruel twist to the knot in her stomach. She had never felt so exposed, so violated. Yet, she couldn't ignore the way her body responded to his voice, the way her clit throbbed at his words.

The first man's wild suckling grew more intense, his teeth grazing her sensitive nipple, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, the taste of blood mingling with the mint from the cloth. The man between her legs chuckled, his breath warm and humid against her inner thigh. "I can see why they call it a peach," he murmured, his tongue tracing the delicate folds of her sex. She felt his rough hands spread her open, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be anywhere but here.

Minju moaned "ahh..." as the second man's tongue replaced his fingers, delving into her with a fervor that made her toes curl. His expertise was clear, his touch calculated to elicit the maximum response from her traitorous body. Her hips bucked, trying to escape the sensation, but the men held her in place, their laughter echoing through the room. She could feel herself getting wetter, a betrayal that only served to fuel their excitement. The man at her breasts took his cue, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh before his tongue soothed the sting.

"I can't, please stop," she gasped, the words barely coherent. She felt the man holding her hand tighten his grip, his thumb stroking her palm in a mockery of comfort.

"Are you going to cum, Minju?" he asked, his tone a blend of amusement and demand. Her heart raced as she felt the pressure building inside her, the man's relentless mouth on her sex pushing her closer to the edge she desperately wanted to avoid. Her body was a maelstrom of conflicting sensations, each touch and kiss sending waves of both fear and arousal crashing through her.

"Noo," she whimpered, trying to pull away, but her body was a traitor. Her hips bucked upward, seeking more, and she could feel the wetness of her pussy smearing against the leather chair. The man between her legs took this as an invitation, his tongue swirling around her clit with the precision of a maestro. The sensation was overwhelming, and she knew she was going to come.

"It's so much, I can't take it," she gasped out, her voice trembling. The man's mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and stroking with a ferocity that had her nails digging into the armrest. The man at her breasts took the opportunity to bite down harder, the sting of pain sending her spiraling into a whirlwind of sensation. She felt the first wave of her orgasm building, her breath hitching in her throat.

The dam broke, and she squirted, her juices spraying out like a fountain, drenching the man's face and soaking the chair beneath her. Her legs shook violently, and she screamed out her climax, unable to hold back any longer. The men laughed, their grips loosening slightly in amazement. The one who had been teasing her clit looked up, her fluids dripping from his chin, a look of triumph in his eyes. "Look at that," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Our little peach is ripe for the picking."

The room spun as Minju's body convulsed through the orgasm she hadn't wanted to give them. She felt their hands on her, touching her everywhere, their breath hot and ragged in her ears. Her mind was a tumult of thoughts, a mix of horror and unwanted pleasure. "You're such a squirter, Minju," the man whispered, his voice a mix of awe and disgust. "And a slut." The word hung in the air, a knife twisting in her gut.

Her legs felt like jelly, but they released her, and she collapsed onto the floor, her ass up and her face down. The cool leather was a stark contrast to the heat of the room, the heat of her body. She trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the fabric of the chair sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. The men stepped away, giving her a moment of respite, their eyes still hungry as they took in the sight of her exposed body.

Minju's mind raced as she lay on the floor, her body still quaking from the forced climax. She knew she had to find a way out of this nightmare, but her limbs felt like lead. The sound of a zipper echoed through the room, and she felt the panic rising again. Before she could even process the thought, the man with the sharp jawline had scooped her up and placed her on the chair, straddling him. Her legs were shaking, but she felt the unyielding grip of the other man as he stood behind her, his erection pressing into her back.

The tall, broad-shouldered man took position in front of her, his own arousal evident as he unbuckled his belt.

Minju's eyes widened in horror as she saw the massive erection sprouting from his pants, the tip glistening with precum. He mustered a twisted smile as he took his cock in hand and began to stroke it, his eyes never leaving hers. The sight was overwhelming, a monstrous spectacle that made her knees go weak. The thought of that thing inside her was unbearable, but she knew she had no choice. She braced herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the first man's hands spreading her thighs wider. The head of his cock nudged against her wetness, the sheer size of it making her quiver with dread.

With a cruel chuckle, he pushed the tip in, stretching her pussy to its limits. She bit her lip to hold back a scream, her eyes watering as the pain shot through her. The man's girth was unbelievable, and she couldn't fathom how much more of him there was to come. The room around her grew fuzzy, the pain consuming her, as he inched his way deeper and deeper. The stretch was agonizing, but she knew that the worst was yet to come. He took his time, relishing her discomfort, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he watched her face contort in pain.

"Ahh, so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. Minju's nails dug into the man back as she tried to push herself away, but the other men held her in place, their hands roaming her body. The man behind her leaned in, his breath hot against her neck. "You're going to love this, baby," he whispered.

The first thrust was like a punch to the gut, the pain stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt herself stretch around him, the invasion both terrifying and exhilarating. Her body trembled, her pussy clenching around the thick, unyielding intrusion. Yet, amidst the horror, there was a spark of something else, a flicker of the pleasure that had betrayed her earlier. Her mind screamed for her to fight, but her body was already responding to the rhythmic motion, her muscles contracting around him in a desperate attempt to escape and yet, paradoxically, to feel more.

"Already orgasm?" The man with the sharp jawline mocked, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. "We didn't even start yet, you're such a slut." His words were like a slap in the face, a cold reminder of her helplessness. He began to move, his hips rising and falling with a brutal precision that had her teeth gritted. Each stroke sent a new wave of agony through her, but it was tinged with a dark, unwelcome craving. Her body was a traitor, her pussy greedily devouring every inch of him as he pushed deeper.

Minju's mind was a battleground of fear and arousal. She didn't want this, didn't want any of it, but she couldn't deny the way her body was responding. Her voice, shaky and desperate, broke through the cacophony of her thoughts. "Please move, I want it," she whispered, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The room grew quiet, the only sound the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the ragged gasps of the men holding her down.

The man with the sharp jawline took her invitation and began to pound into her with a ferocity that made her eyes water. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body, the pain melding with the pleasure until she could no longer tell them apart. She felt the man's mouth move to her nipple again, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he sucked it into his mouth. The sensation was intense, a symphony of pleasure that washed over the agony of the intrusion below.

"Ahh, yess," she found herself moaning, the words slipping out despite her best efforts to remain silent. "So big, fuck..." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, a plea that she didn't even realize she was making. The man's hips ground against her, his cock filling her completely, stretching her to the point of pain. But it was a pain that she was beginning to crave, a pain that seemed to hold the key to some twisted form of relief.

"Suck my nipples more," she begged, arching her back as the pleasure began to build again. The man took the cue, his teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh before he took one peak into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp contrast to the brutal pounding she was receiving. She could feel the man's erection pulsing against her back, and she knew he was getting off on her suffering. But she didn't care anymore, she just needed the release.

The second man's breath was hot on her neck, his hand moving from her hip to the small of her back. His fingers began to trace the cleft of her ass, teasing her puckered hole. The sensation was alien and terrifying, but it sent a thrill through her body that she couldn't ignore. He chuckled darkly as she tensed, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "You're so tight here too," he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against her asshole. "But we'll loosen you up, don't worry."

Minju's voice was a desperate whisper. "No, no, not there," she pleaded, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to ignore the way her body responded to his touch. The first man took a moment to admire the look of fear and need on her face before resuming his relentless assault on her pussy. "Please," she gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "I can't, it's too much."

But the man didn't care; he kept trying to push his dick deeper into Minju's asshole. His thumb circled the tight ring of muscle, applying pressure that made her body spasm. She could feel her own wetness mingling with his spit, the slickness of it making her skin crawl. "You're going to take all of us," he said, his voice a promise of more torment. "And you're going to love it."

"Ahh, it feels weird," she whined, her body tensing up as his thumb breached her ass, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. The pain was intense, a stark contrast to the pleasure still pulsing through her pussy from the first man's relentless pounding. She could feel the head of the second man's cock pressing against her, the blunt pressure a stark reminder of the new violation that awaited her.

But then, something strange happened. The pain began to morph into something else, something that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The pressure grew, building into a crescendo that matched the rhythm of the man's strokes inside her. Her pussy tightened around him, desperately seeking more, and she felt her orgasm start to crest. "Ahh, no," she moaned, her voice a mix of agony and ecstasy. "I can't take it, I'm cumming again, ahh, ahh, ahh..."

Her body convulsed, her pussy spasming around the thick cock that filled her so completely. The man's grip on her hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he felt her climax. She could hear his grunts of pleasure, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass with each plunge. And then, as if on cue, the third man grabbed her head, his grip like a vice as he pushed his own erection into her mouth. "You're talking too much, Minju," he grunted, his voice low and menacing.

Her jaw ached from the stretch, but she took him in willingly, the taste of her own juices mingling with the saltiness of his cock. The sound of her own slurps filled her ears, the obscene sounds of her mouth working his shaft almost as degrading as the pain in her ass. "Glukkk glukk glukk," she moaned around the thick meat, the words muffled but clear in their meaning. She enjoyed it, the feeling of being used, of being their plaything. The humiliation only served to heighten her arousal, a dark thrill that she never knew existed within her.

For what felt like an eternity, the three men took turns using her body, their rhythmic thrusts becoming a symphony of depravity. The man in her pussy pounded with a relentlessness that was almost soothing in its consistency, filling her up completely. The man in her ass took his time, stretching her open with each slow, deliberate push until she was taking his full length, her cries of pain muffled by the cock in her throat. And the third, the one who had claimed her mouth, fucked her face with a vigor that had her eyes watering.

"I think I'm gonna cum, Minju," the man in her ass grunted, his grip on her hips tightening until it felt like he was trying to split her in two. His words were a declaration, a warning of the impending climax that she could feel building within him. And as if on cue, the man in her pussy sped up, his strokes becoming more erratic, his breathing ragged. She knew she was close too, the tension in her own body coiling tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap.

The room was a blur of movement, the men's bodies a tapestry of sweat and power as they used her. The pain was a living thing, pulsing through her, but it had transformed into something else. Something that made her body beg for more. And when the man in her mouth finally came, his hot seed spurting down her throat, she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. It was as if she had been given a role to play, and she was playing it to perfection.

The man in her pussy grunted, his hips bucking wildly as he reached his climax. He pulled out just in time to shoot his load all over her stomach, the hot, sticky fluid spattering her skin. The sight of his release only made the man in her ass more eager, his thrusts becoming more demanding, more primal. He grunted and pushed in deeper, the pressure building until she felt his cock swell and throb inside her. And then, with a roar, he came too, filling her up with his seed, the sensation so intense it brought tears to her eyes.

Gasping for air, Minju felt the men pull out of her in unison, their cocks slick with her juices. The sudden emptiness was almost as intense as the fullness she had just endured, and she couldn't help the whine of protest that escaped her lips. The sharp-jawed man chuckled, stroking her cheek with a gentle touch that seemed almost tender in the aftermath of the brutal assault. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine.

She could feel their eyes on her, their gazes raking over her trembling form, assessing her reactions. "But we're not done yet," he said, his voice a promise of more to come. "Each one of us gets a turn in every hole. That's the deal."

Minju's body felt like it had been wrung out like a wet towel, her muscles quivering with exhaustion. Yet, she couldn't deny the need that still thrummed through her veins. She didn't know if she could take it, if she could handle the onslaught of pleasure and pain that awaited her. The men seemed to sense her hesitation, their smiles growing more predatory as they looked at her.

The sharp-jawed man took a step back, his cock still glistening with her juices. "Time to switch places," he said, his voice a low growl. The man who had been fucking her mouth stepped forward, his own erection bobbing eagerly as he took position behind her. He didn't bother with any pretense of gentleness, pushing into her ass without warning.

The pain was immediate and intense, but she found herself pushing back, her body craving the fullness she had just felt moments ago. The man behind her took the hint, his strokes growing faster and deeper until she was crying out around the cock that filled her pussy. The man who had just her pussy come to her mouth, stroking his member as he watched the scene unfold before him. "Look at her," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Such a good little slut."

The second man's grip on her pussy was like iron, his thumb pressing against her clit as he drove into her ass. She squirted again, the force of her orgasm surprising her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the warmth of his cum fill her, his grunts of pleasure echoing through the room. And then, it was the third man's turn, his cock sliding into her pussy with a wet, gasping sound. She felt so full, so stretched, that she thought she might split apart.

But she didn't. Instead, she took it, her body moving with the rhythm of their abuse, her hips rising and falling as she was used in ways she had never imagined. The man in her ass began to spank her, each smack sending a shockwave of sensation through her. She could feel her orgasm building again, her pussy clenching around his cock, her ass tightening around the other. The sharp sting of the slaps only heightened the pleasure, sending her spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

And then, with a roar, the man in her ass came, his cum flooding her bowels, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. She felt his cock jerk inside her, the pulse of his release sending her own orgasm crashing over her. She screamed around the cock in her mouth, her body shaking with the force of it. The man in her pussy took his cue, his thrusts growing more frantic, his grip on her hips almost painful.

And when he came, it was with a snarl, his cum spurting out in hot, thick ropes that coated her inner thighs and dripped down to the floor. The man who had been watching stepped forward, his own erection now fully restored. He pulled out of her mouth, his cock shiny with her saliva, and moved to take his place in her ass.

The cycle continued, each man taking her in a different combination of holes, their pleasure becoming a symphony of grunts and slaps, moans and whimpers. She was theirs to use, to fill, to claim. And as the night went on, Minju realized she didn't just want them to cum inside her; she needed it. The thought of their seed filling her, marking her as theirs, was intoxicating.

With each new thrust, she felt herself slipping further into a dark, depraved world that she had never known existed. But she didn't care. All she cared about was the feeling of their hands on her body, their cocks inside her, the taste of their desire. And when the last man finally came, his hot cum spurting into her mouth, she swallowed it down greedily, her eyes never leaving his.

"Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek. And in that moment, she knew she was theirs. She had been broken, reshaped into a vessel for their pleasure. And she liked it. She liked it more than she could ever admit. The room was a blur of satiated bodies, their breaths heavy with satisfaction. But Minju's mind was already racing, planning how she could get more of this twisted game.

As she lay there, her body trembling from the exertion, she felt a hand on her chin, tilting her head up to look into the sharp-jawed man's eyes.

"How many squirt do you have for us today, Minju?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Her eyes searched his, desperation melding with the haze of pleasure that still clouded her judgment. "I don't know... maybe 10 or 15... I can't think," she replied, her voice a soft whimper. The idea of being able to squirt that many times seemed impossible, yet her body had already proven it could handle more than she had ever thought possible.

The sharp-jawed man chuckled, his hand moving to cup her chin. "Good, because we're not done with you yet," he said, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "We're going to drain you, Minju. Every last drop of cum you're worth."

The fourth man, who had been watching the whole time with a mix of envy and anticipation, stood up from the couch. He was the most muscular of them all, his broad chest heaving with excitement as he unzipped his pants. His erection sprang out, thick and veiny, a testament to his desire. He stepped forward, the smirk on his face growing as he took in the sight of her used body, glistening with their cum.

Minju's eyes widened as he approached, her mind reeling from the sheer size of his cock. It was easily the biggest she had ever seen, dwarfing the others that had already claimed her. A bolt of fear shot through her, but her body, now a willing accomplice in her degradation, responded with a fresh wave of arousal. "No, no," she whispered, her voice a mix of fear and lust. "It won't fit."

The sharp-jawed man leaned in closer, his smile cold and cruel. "Just shut up," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Because you can't run anymore." His words sent a chill down her spine, a stark reminder of her captivity. She was theirs, and she knew it. The fourth man stepped closer, his hand stroking the length of his erection as he looked down at her with a hunger that was almost palpable.

With trembling hands, Minju reached up and took the head of his cock in her mouth, feeling it stretch her lips to the point of pain. He was so thick, so much more than she had ever had before, and she knew it would be a challenge to take all of him. But she was determined to try, her need for their approval overriding any sense of self-preservation she might have once had.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, tasting the salty precum that had begun to leak out. He groaned in pleasure, his hand coming to the back of her head to guide her movements. His grip grew firmer, pushing her down further, and she felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she took a deep breath through her nose and relaxed her throat, willing herself to accommodate his monstrous size.

The fourth man's eyes lit up as she took more of him, his hips starting to rock gently, pushing deeper with each stroke. "Ur throat is so tight and wet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. His words sent a shiver of excitement down her spine, the praise fueling her determination. She took him as deep as she could, her throat convulsing around his shaft as she fought the urge to gag.

The sharp-jawed man watched with a sadistic grin, his hand moving to fondle her breasts as he whispered, "Good girl, take it all." The words were a command, and she obeyed, her mouth moving up and down the thick length of the fourth man's cock. His hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, his strokes growing more forceful.

The pressure built in her throat, the taste of him becoming more intense with each passing second. She could feel him swelling, his cock growing even bigger, and she knew he was close. "Aghh, fuck," he groaned, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep into her mouth. "I'm gonna cum, don't you dare spill it out." The threat was clear, and she responded with a muffled moan of understanding, her eyes watering as she braced herself for the onslaught.

And then, with a roar, he did. His cum shot into her throat, hot and thick, filling her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on not choking. He pulled out, his cock still twitching as he stepped back, panting. "Look at her," the sharp-jawed man said, his voice filled with amusement. "Such a good little cockslut."

Minju felt a twisted sense of pride at the words, her cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. The men around her chuckled, their eyes gleaming with lust. "Now, let's see if you can handle this," .

This one was different, she realized with a sinking feeling. His cock was longer and thicker than the others, a weapon of pure pleasure and pain. She tried to sit up, her body already feeling the strain of the previous assaults, but the sharp-jawed man pushed her back down. "No more games, Minju," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're going to take him, and you're going to enjoy it."

The fourth man took position between her legs, his cock bobbing as he stared down at her trembling form. "Please," she whispered, her voice a hoarse plea. "I can't..." But it was too late. With a brutal shove, he plunged into her pussy, the sound of her wetness mingling with her whimpers of pain. Her body was so sensitive, so overwhelmed, that it was all she could do to not scream.

He began to move, his strokes long and deep, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Please, no more," she whimpered, her pussy clenching around his cock. But he paid her no heed, his focus solely on his own pleasure.

"You're too tight," he grunted, his grip on her hips tightening as he pushed in harder.

The sharp-jawed man leaned in, his hand moving to her clit, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You'll get used to it," he whispered, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves.

And then, with a suddenness that took her breath away, the pain disappeared, replaced by a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Her body arched off the bed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she came again, her pussy contracting around the invading cock. The fourth man took her through the motions, his strokes growing more forceful, more demanding. She felt like she was being split in two, the sensation so overwhelming she didn't know if she could handle it.

But she did. Each thrust sent her spiraling higher and higher, until she was a writhing mess of pleasure and pain, her body a canvas for their depravity. "Fuck me," she moaned, the words slipping from her lips unbidden. "Fuck me harder."

The sharp-jawed man chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he watched her degradation. "Look at you," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're loving this."

The fourth man took her words to heart, his strokes becoming more punishing, his cock stretching her pussy to its limits. She felt herself climbing again, the pressure building until she was on the edge, her body trembling with the effort to hold back. "Agh, I'm gonna cum," she screamed, her voice raw and desperate.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving her feeling empty and exposed. "Do it," he said, his voice a demand. "Squirt on my cock." He stroked himself, his cock slick with her juices, and she could see the challenge in his eyes.

With a trembling hand, she reached down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit. It was swollen and sensitive, the slightest touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She began to rub it, her eyes locked on his, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. The sharp-jawed man leaned in closer, his hand moving to her hip, his grip firm and possessive. "Come on," he urged, his voice low and hungry. "Show us how much of a slut you really are."

The pressure grew, her body coiled like a spring about to snap. With a final, desperate cry, she let go, her pussy clenching around the fourth man's cock as she squirted. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, a deluge of wetness that soaked the bed beneath her. The men cheered, their eyes alight with excitement as they watched her body convulse with pleasure.

The fourth man leaned in, his hand moving from her hip to her chin, tilting her head back so he could kiss her. His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting the remnants of the fourth man's cum. "Keep going," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "We want more."

Her hand moved faster on her clit, her hips rising off the bed as she felt the next orgasm building. The sharp-jawed man's cock was back in her mouth, his movements growing more urgent as he felt her body tighten around his shaft. She squirted again.

Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably now, the intensity of her orgasms threatening to overwhelm her. It was as if her body had taken on a mind of its own, the need for more pleasure an insatiable beast that demanded to be fed. "It's too much," she gasped . "I think I'm gonna collapse."

But the fourth man just chuckled, his eyes glinting with malicious excitement. "No, you can't," he said, his voice a dark caress. "We're not done with you yet." He reached down, his hand grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're going to keep squirting for us, no matter what."

With a grunt, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and flipped her over, so she was ass up and face down. Her cheek pressed into the wet, sticky mattress, she could feel the coolness of the spilled cum against her skin. The sharp-jawed man stepped back, watching with a cruel smile as the fourth man took his place. His cock was still hard, still thick and demanding, and she knew what was coming.

He didn't bother with preamble, simply pushing her legs apart and sinking into her pussy with a ferocity that took her breath away. Her squirt had only made him hungrier, and now he was going to feast. The first few thrusts were so hard she thought she'd pass out, her body unprepared for the intensity. But she didn't. Instead, she felt her pussy stretch to accommodate him, her walls tightening around him as she took him in, inch by brutal inch.

The sharp-jawed man watched, stroking his own cock as he observed the scene with a sadistic smile. "That's it," he encouraged. "Make her squirt like the slut she is." The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes glued to her ass as it bounced with every punishing thrust.

The fourth man's strokes grew more erratic. With a snarl, he grabbed her hips, his cock slamming into her with a force that made the bed shake. "Do it," he grunted, his voice strained. "Give me your squirt."

And she did. With a scream that was equal parts pleasure and pain, Minju's pussy clenched around him, sending a jet of fluid shooting out, soaking the bed even more. He groaned, his movements becoming more frenzied, his grip on her hips bruising. The sharp-jawed man watched with a mix of fascination and hunger, his own hand moving faster on his erection. "So good," he murmured, his voice tight with his own need.

The fourth man's rhythm grew erratic, his hips slamming into her ass with a force that made her teeth chatter. She felt his cock swell, the pressure inside her building until she thought she'd burst. And then, with a final, guttural roar, he came, his cum filling her to the brim. She could feel it leaking out of her, running down her thighs, mixing with the mess that was already there.

"Yes, yes," she moaned, her body shaking with the intensity of her own orgasm. She had never felt so used, so completely owned.

The fourth man's cock twitched inside her, the final pulses of his cum filling her until she felt like she would overflow. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of fullness and satisfaction that she had never experienced before. Her pussy quivered around him, the muscles clenching involuntarily, eager to milk every last drop.

It's so full," Minju murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow she was face-first in, her body still shaking from the last round of brutal ecstasy. The fourth man's cum was still dripping from her pussy, leaving a sticky trail down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. The sharp-jawed man took a step closer, his cock still standing at attention despite the depraved scene that had just played out. "Look at what a mess you've made," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and disgust.

The fourth man chuckled, his hand moving to her hip as he pulled her back onto her knees. "Don't worry, baby," he said, his voice a sickly sweet promise. "I've got plenty more where that came from." His grip tightened, his cock, which had only just begun to soften, now growing hard again with the renewed interest in her body.

The sharp-jawed man took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. "You think you're special?" he sneered. "You think we won't use you up and spit you out?" His hand came down, slapping her ass with a wet sound that echoed through the room. "You're nothing but a cum dumpster to us."

The words stung, but Minju couldn't deny the truth. She was theirs to use, their toy to discard when they were done. Yet, the thought only made her more eager, her body begging for another round of their brutal attentions. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible. "I'm not... I can't..." But she knew she could. Some twisted part of her wanted to, needed to prove she could take it all.

The fourth man grinned, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the challenge. He bent down, his grip strong as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned his cock at her soaking entrance. The sharp-jawed man moved in, his hand reaching for her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You're going to take it all," he said, his voice a low growl. "Every drop ."

With a roar, the fourth man thrust into her, lifting her off the bed as he began to pound her from behind. The sharp-jawed man held her hand, their fingers entwined as he watched the scene unfold, his own arousal evident in the tight grip and the way he licked his lips. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes raked over her body, and it only made her more wet, her pussy clenching around the thick cock invading her.

"Ahh... yes," she moaned, her voice a desperate cry. "So good, I'm cumming again." The words were torn from her as she felt the familiar tightening in her belly, her muscles contracting as the orgasm built. It was a sweet agony, the kind that made her want to scream and beg for mercy, all while pushing back against the man inside her, urging him to go deeper.

The fourth man's grip on her hips tightened, his own hips slapping against her ass as he drove into her with renewed vigor. "That's it," he grunted, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "Squirt for me, baby. Squirt like the slut you are."

Minju's body responded to his words, the muscles in her pussy clenching around his cock as she began to squirt uncontrollably. The sensation was overwhelming, her body seemingly having a mind of its own as it sought to please the men who had so completely claimed her. The sharp-jawed man's eyes widened in amazement as he watched the spectacle, his hand moving to stroke his own cock faster. "Fuck, look at her," he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "She's like a fucking fountain."

The fourth man's eyes glazed over with pleasure, his strokes becoming more erratic as he felt his own climax approaching. "Yeah, baby," he grunted. "Come on, let's do it together." His hand moved from her hip to her clit, his thumb rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "I'm gonna fill you up so good."

Minju's body responded to his touch, the sensation of his cock inside her combined with the pressure on her clit pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel another orgasm building, the tension in her abdomen tightening with each passing second. "Yes," she moaned, her voice barely recognizable. "I'm gonna cum again."

The sharp-jawed man's grip on her hand tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he whispered, "Show us, baby. Let us see it all." His words were a command, one that she desperately wanted to obey. She felt her pussy clench around the fourth man's cock, her body begging for more, for the release she knew was just a heartbeat away.

"I think this is my last squirt," Minju gasped as the fourth man's cock swelled inside her, his cum shooting into her with a force that made her entire body shake. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that left her gasping for breath.

And then, with a grunt of his own release, the fourth man pulled out, leaving her pussy gaping and empty. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, her body trembling uncontrollably. The sticky wetness of her squirt and their combined cum coated the floor beneath her, a stark reminder of her newfound role.

Minju's eyes had gone blurry, the world spinning around her in a haze of pleasure and pain. She felt like she was going to faint, the intensity of her orgasms leaving her dizzy and weak. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort to fill her lungs. The sharp-jawed man stepped closer, a look of dark satisfaction on his face. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of amazement and contempt. "So fucking pathetic."

The other men chuckled, their eyes glinting with lust as they watched her collapse. The fourth man reached down, his hand wrapping around her arm, and hauled her to her feet. "Come on," he said, his voice gruff. "You're not done yet." He tugged her along behind him, her legs wobbly and unsteady. She could feel the warmth of the cum running down her thighs, a sticky mess that seemed to cling to her skin.

They brought her to the bathroom, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the heat of the room she'd just left. The sharp-jawed man flipped on the lights, and she blinked against the harsh brightness. The room was large, with a claw-footed bathtub in the center and a gleaming chrome shower in the corner.

The fourth man held her up, his grip unyielding as he positioned her in front of the mirror. She looked at her reflection, not recognizing the woman who stared back at her. Her makeup was smeared, her dress torn and stained, her eyes swollen from crying. She was a mess, a shell of the glamorous starlet she had been just hours ago.

"Look at yourself," the sharp-jawed man said, his voice a mix of amusement and disgust. "You're nothing but a used cum rag now." The words hit her like a slap in the face.

Minju's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. Her legs felt like jelly, her body utterly drained from the onslaught of pleasure and pain she'd endured. She lay there, her eyes unfocused, staring at the reflection in the mirror. She could see the bruises already beginning to form on her hips and thighs, the marks of their possession etched into her skin.

The men formed a circle around her, their cocks still hard and glistening with her juices. The sharp-jawed man stepped forward, his expression a twisted mix of amusement and cruelty. "Time to clean up," he announced, his voice echoing in the bathroom. And with that, they began to piss all over her. The warm streams of urine rained down on her body, washing away the cum and sweat that coated her.

Minju's eyes widened in horror, her body tense with humiliation. She had never felt so degraded, so utterly used. Yet, as the urine hit her skin, she felt a strange sense of relief, as if the sting of it was washing away the last remnants of her dignity. The smell was overpowering, the stench of piss mingling with the musky scent of sex that filled the room. She tried to look away, but the sharp-jawed man grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze in the mirror.

"Look at yourself," he said, his voice cold and mocking. "This is what you are now. A dirty little cum slut." His words sent a shiver down her spine, even as her pussy clenched around the emptiness inside her. It was as if her body had been rewired to crave their degradation, to thrive on their contempt.

As the last of their piss rained down on her, she felt herself slipping away, the world going dark around the edges. Her breathing grew shallow, her vision swimming as she teetered on the brink of consciousness. The sharp-jawed man stepped back, his smile fading as he took in her condition. "Looks like she's had enough for now," he said, his voice deceptively casual.

The fourth man chuckled, zipping up his pants. "Let's leave her here to clean up. Maybe she'll learn to appreciate her new role." The others laughed, their footsteps echoing through the room as they left, the door slamming shut behind them.

Alone, Minju lay on the cold floor, her body a map of bruises and cum stains. She could feel the stickiness between her cheeks, the result of the fourth man's merciless assault. The smell of piss hung heavy in the air, a humiliating reminder of her submission.

Her vision swam, and she felt the room spin as the last of her strength gave way. With a final whimper, she passed out, her body giving in to the relentless waves of pain and pleasure that had overtaken her.

When she awoke, it was to the harsh light of morning filtering through the bathroom window. The floor was cold and sticky beneath her, and she could feel the crust of dried cum and piss on her skin. Her eyes felt gritty, and her throat was parched, the taste of bile and semen still lingering in her mouth. She tried to sit up, but her body protested, the ache in her ass and pussy a stark reminder of the night's events.

With a groan, she managed to push herself onto her hands and knees, her head spinning as she took in the room. The bathtub was stained, the floor around it a mess of cum and urine. Her reflection in the mirror was a horror show, her face puffy from crying, her once-pristine dress torn and stained beyond recognition. The sharp-jawed man's words echoed in her mind, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust and shame.

Mr. Park's voice grew louder as he approached the bathroom door, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. "Minju," he called out, his tone one of forced concern. "Are you okay in there?" The sound of his voice was like a knife in her gut, a stark reminder of the betrayal that had led to her current state. She didn't bother to respond, knowing that her voice would only betray her.

The door swung open, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately going to the mess on the floor. His expression shifted from concern to one of cold calculation. "You've made quite a mess," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. She could see the disgust in his eyes as he took in the state of her body, cum spurted from her ass and pussy like some grotesque art project.

Minju's eyes fell to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, the only sign of the turmoil inside her. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But she knew that sorry wasn't enough. Not for what she'd done, and not for the way she'd let them treat her.

Mr. Park sighed, his eyes scanning the room before returning to her. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of pity and revulsion. "What have you become?" He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch her face. She flinched away, the simple contact feeling like a brand of ownership she didn't want.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I can't..."

"You can," he said, his tone firm. "You will." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "This is your new life now. Get used to it."

Minju felt a spark of defiance flare up inside her, but it was quickly snuffed out by the weight of his stare. She knew he was right. She had no choice but to submit to their desires, to embrace the slut that she had become. With a heavy heart, she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Park."

The week passed in a blur of pain and pleasure, the men taking her whenever and however they wanted. Her body was a playground for their desires, a canvas for their depravity. Yet, amidst the pain and humiliation, she found a strange solace in her new role. Each time she squirted for them, each time she took their cum, she felt a sense of belonging, of purpose.

When she finally returned to work, she was a different woman. She walked with a newfound confidence, her eyes downcast in submission. The other employees whispered about her, wondering what had changed. But she knew. She was theirs, their little cum slut, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

One night, after a particularly grueling session with the sharp-jawed man and his friends, she sent a message to Mr. Park. "Thanks for that surprise," she wrote, her thumbs moving over the screen with surprising ease. "Right now, I know the truth about myself. I am a slut for a big cock."

The response was almost instant. "Good girl," he texted back. "Keep that in mind. We have more surprises in store for you."

Her stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and dread. She knew she had no say in the matter, that she would take whatever they gave her and ask for more. And she liked it. The thought of it made her wet, her pussy clenching with anticipation.

The next week at work was a blur of meetings and shoots, each one more grueling than the last. But she never forgot her message to Mr. Park. It played on repeat in her mind, a constant reminder of who and what she was. And she liked it. The idea of being used by those powerful men again, of feeling their cocks fill her up and empty her out, was a thrill she couldn't resist.

On her lunch break, she found herself in the bathroom, her hand slipping into her panties to touch her still-sensitive clit. The thought of their next meeting had her pussy soaked, and she couldn't help but wonder what they had planned for her. Would it be more of the same, or would they find new ways to break her, to make her squirt for them?

The anticipation was almost too much to bear. But she knew she could handle it. She had to. She was their cum slut, after all.

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

part 2

summary: it's been a week since you and ellie's date. you weren't ignoring her - but you were also too afraid of what she might be. so when she shows up to your apartment, you have pretty mixed feelings

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie, lot of talk about blood, oral(r!receiving), fingering(r! receiving), afab reader, ellie's a bit stalker-y tbh, smallest bit of bloodplay (what do u expect), slightest bit of praise kink, this shit is filthy tbh

word count: ~9k

a/n: listen i'm sorry I work 50 hr weeks and i'm writing a book so it takes me FOREVER to write shit but i hope y'all like this one cause i love it. if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

part 1

You hadn't talked to Ellie in nearly a week. 

It wasn’t that you were ignoring her. It was just that any time she texted you you could do nothing but stare at the letters for several minutes hoping they’d make sense before you finally shut your phone off. She had called you once, the day after your date, but you just let it ring in your hand until it finally fell silent, convincing yourself that it was only because you were hungover and didn’t feel like talking to anybody. (She, of course, left you a voicemail telling you how much she enjoyed your date and that Riley wanted to meet you.) 

You weren't ignoring her. 

You were just avoiding her. 

Which was different, right? 

That night, when Ellie came back into the sitting room with two glasses of water, she had found you standing by the mantle, looking for all the world like a frightened animal. When you had heard her coming, you had set the frame down as though it had burned you, putting it back into its spot on the mantle, face down. Perhaps it was better like that. If you had to look at the sepia face staring up at you and the very real, unchanged face smiling at you in the warmth of this house, you weren't sure how you'd react. 

You weren't sure what your face held, but whatever it was made Ellie's steps slow. She came to a stop several feet away, looking at you warily. “Everything okay?” 

You had only nodded and politely asked her to take you home. 

She didn’t argue, and you couldn’t decide if you preferred that over the alternative. She opened the car door for you, closing it gently once you were settled. You didn't say much on the drive home - your head was still swimming with wine and confusion and the heat still pooling between your legs. Ellie tried making conversation, asking you about your plans for the week and if you wanted to meet up again sometime, but your heart wasn’t in it; it was a million miles and two-hundred years away. You could only give her one-word replies, running your hands over the expensive leather seats to ground yourself. 

She walked you to the door of your apartment complex. You didn’t kiss her, only said goodnight and went inside, leaving her standing out in the cold. Although you weren’t sure if she could actually feel it. 

You weren’t sure what she was. 

The logical part of your brain tried to convince you that it wasn’t anything, that you had just been drunk and tired and way too turned on to think straight. You tried to tell yourself it hadn’t been Ellie in that picture - that it was an ancestor that looked disturbingly similar - that it was just a stage photo taken to look like it was from the 1800s - that you weren’t crazy. But some part of you - some primal instinct that prickled at your skin and raised the hair on the back of your neck - knew that you were full of shit and wouldn’t let you forget it. 

You knew what you saw. It was no trick of the light, no staged photo. Ellie had - impossibly, inexplicably - been at that house in 1816. 

You sat in the quiet of your apartment, only the light of the full moon and your laptop’s blue screen illuminating your bedroom. You couldn't even hear the normal traffic that blared from the street all hours of the night. The only thing you could hear - the only sound penetrating this deafening, suffocating silence - was your own heartbeat. 

You felt so stupid - crazy, really - but you typed the words anyway: What can live forever?

That wasn't entirely helpful. Google fed you an article about jellyfish - Turritopsis dohrnii, the “immortal jellyfish”. The only creature on Earth that was biologically immortal. You rubbed at your aching eyes - you hadn't been sleeping well - and tried again. 

Can humans live forever? 

That didn't really help either. Now you got articles about cryogenic freezing and uploading your consciousness into a computer - you were pretty sure the former hadn't even been a thing in the 1800s, and as for the latter, you definitely didn't think Ellie was a computer. A computer couldn’t kiss like that, couldn’t grip your hair and press promises into the hollow of your throat, cold fingers skimming over your skin-

You groaned, pressing your knuckles into your eyes. That kind of train of thought was exactly why it had become increasingly difficult to avoid Ellie. You couldn’t count the number of times in the past few days that your thumb had hovered over her name on your phone, your wired, sleep-deprived heart unable to resist a mystery. But this wasn’t some fucking Agatha Christie novel, and you definitely weren’t the main character. This was real life, and until you knew what Ellie was and what she could do - other than have eternal beauty, apparently - your instinct told you not to trust her. 

You felt insanely stupid - illogical and delusional and a million other synonyms - but the cheesy scene in that teenage-brain rot vampire movie came to mind: You’re pale white and ice cold. Maybe it wasn’t the most outlandish idea, when you really thought about it; it was no more outlandish than Ellie being at that house when it was built in 1816. Besides, maybe it added up: Her fingers had felt like ice on your cheek. She never blushed, not even after you had made out - a fact that had left you self-conscious before but would make a lot more sense. You couldn't deny that you had felt a strong, unnatural pull to her. And the metallic smell that seemed to cling to her beneath her perfume….

So, feeling like a cheap impersonator of Kristen Stewart, you typed in vampires. 

The page was still buffering, your shitty, cheap internet taking its sweet time as always, when there was a sharp knock on your apartment door. 

You jumped so hard your laptop slipped from the bed and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. You flinched, hoping it was just a broken screen you could live with. You got up, stepping around the fallen soldier, and left the blissful darkness of your bedroom, flicking the light on in your living room. But when you opened the front door, you wanted nothing more than to slam it shut again. 

Ellie stood in the dingy hallway, the worn leather jacket finally making an appearance over her shoulders. Her hair stood at odd ends, as though she had been tugging at it. Yet, even looking haggard in a torn jacket, she looked just as good as she had amongst the stars. 

And here you were, standing in your messy apartment in your favorite pajamas, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. 

Somehow, Ellie was the one that looked sheepish; she couldn't quite meet your eyes, scratching the back of her head and fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. Before your survival instincts could convince you to close the door, she said, in the softest voice imaginable, “Hi.” 

And you could no longer bring yourself to close the door in her adorable fucking face.

When you didn't respond, Ellie nodded, seemingly to herself, rocking on her heels awkwardly. She spoke to her shoes when she said, “Sorry, I know this is probably really fucking weird.” 

“That's an understatement,” you said, surprising yourself with a laugh. You almost felt bad when she flinched.

Frankly, you probably should have closed the door and locked it behind you. You had only gone on one date with Ellie, and she was suddenly showing up to your apartment in the middle of the night. You had practically ghosted her for several days now, and for some reason she had come crawling back to you like a dog. Yeah, it was beyond weird - creepy, almost. And yet…. 

You pulled the blanket tighter around you to try to hide your pajamas - an oversized t-shirt from some anime you hadn't watched in years and a pair of shorts so short you couldn't possibly wear them anywhere other than your own room. You leaned against the doorframe, trying your damnedest to look nonchalant - to look like your heart wasn't trying to escape your chest - and said, “What are you doing here?” 

Ellie shifted, fidgeting, biting her lip so hard it looked like she might draw blood (could she bleed?). “You just…. After our date, you seemed really upset and I've been worried about you.” She spoke in a rush, as though the words were racing to leave her tongue. “I-I don't know if it's something I did, but if it is - I want to make it up to you. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I-” She hesitated, finally looking up at you through her lashes. “And, honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.” 

Your heart did some kind of embarrassing acrobatic routine at her words. You tried to keep your voice steady, as though your cheeks weren't obviously burning: “You didn't do anything. I just….” 

I saw a picture of you looking just as young and beautiful in 1816 and freaked out and honestly I don't know what you are or if you're dangerous and I'm scared to find out but I also can't deny that I haven't stopped thinking about you either. 

Yeah, you couldn't say that. 

Instead, you said, like a coward,, “I've just been busy, honestly.” 

Tension drained from Ellie, her jaw visibly unclenching, that cute pinch between her brows smoothing. A relieved smile tugged at her lips. 

“Okay,” she said, a little too breathlessly. She cleared her throat and tried again: “Okay. That's-That's good. Um….” She looked around, taking in your dim apartment behind you before her eyes landed on you again. She noticed, seemingly for the first time, that you were in your pajamas. An amused - almost fond - smile lit up her eyes. “You look a little busy right now. Do you… I can text you later, maybe? I'd love to go on another date. If you want to.” 

You sized her up, taking in the infamous jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. She blended in surprisingly well with your shabby apartment complex - down to the worn out converse. You shouldn't have invited her in. After everything, you'd be stupid to invite her into your apartment. You were just talking about how she might be dangerous, how you couldn't trust her…. 

So, you didn't invite her inside. You simply said, “I was actually just about to turn on a movie,” and walked away. You left the door open, a silent expectation for her to follow you inside. Without looking back, you said, “Do you want anything to drink?” 

When Ellie didn't respond, you turned back to find her still standing right outside the door. Her eyes were wide, looking like a deer watching a car barrel towards it, unable to move. She rocked back on her heels, blowing an awkward breath through pursed lips. “Can I, um- Can I come in?” 

You slowly turned to her, setting down the empty cup you had picked up. Taking a cautious step toward her, you said, “What do you mean?” 

Ellie laughed that rough, charming laugh, but it rang hollow. It would have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn't already looking for red flags. “I mean, it's rude to come in uninvited. I've never been to your place before, I don't want to - you know, overstep, I guess.” 

You squinted at her, alarm bells blaring in your ears. “You're not overstepping anything.” 

She pressed her lips together, impatience creeping into her shoulders. “So… Can I come in?” 

“Can you?” 

Ellie blinked at you. “What?” 

You took several steps towards her, stopping just inside the doorway - just where she couldn't reach you. There was some kind of panic behind her eyes, like a child that had been caught red-handed. Setting your shoulders, you repeated, “Can you?” 

She stumbled over her words, syllables tripping over her tongue: “I- it's rude to just barge into somebody's home-” 

“And I'm telling you it's not rude,” you interrupted. You held a hand out to her, careful to keep your fingers right inside the doorway. “So why can't you come in?” 

Ellie looked at your outstretched hand, her eyes wide and desperate. She reached out to you before drawing her hand back sharply, as though she had been burned. A low growl rose from her throat, and she snapped, “I just can't, okay?” 

Your eyebrows rose, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You should have been afraid - you were so close to the truth you could taste it - but you couldn't find the fear inside yourself. Instead, there was only the warm touch of relief. 

You took another step towards her, still carefully inside the doorway. You were so close you could smell that warm, metallic scent that clung to her. Knowing what it might be, it should have disgusted you; instead, you were buzzing with an overwhelming curiosity. A restlessness burned in your fingertips - inexplicably, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her. You wanted to feel the burn of her cold fingers against you. 

“Tell me what you are,” you murmured, unwilling to speak any louder for fear that you would shatter the barrier between you - the barrier protecting you.

“Hopefully more than a first date,” Ellie said, that hollow laugh trying to cut through the tension. When you only looked at her, she faltered, that mask cracking just a little more. Ellie's jaw worked, the muscle flexing. She said, slowly now, as though you were a frightened animal, “I'm just Ellie. I'm here because I missed you. I really want to come in and just watch a movie with you. Can I please come in?” A desperate whine tinted her words, sending an embarrassing flush to your cheeks. 

You grit your teeth, lifting your chin stubbornly. “I found that picture. The one of the house - the one dated back to 1816 when it was built. You were there.” If she had any, you imagined the blood would've drained from Ellie's face. “How were you there? How old are you, really? What are you?”

Ellie looked like she wanted to argue - her lips curled back in a snarl, her fists clenched at her sides. You should have been afraid - you should have been terrified - but really you were just craving the truth. 

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders dropping as all the fight seemed to leave her body at once. She scrubbed a hand across her face and said, “Look, nobody's ever…. Nobody's ever asked me that before. Nobody… nobody cared before. Nobody looked. The people I've met on Seeking only wanted sex and money - that's what I'm good at. But you….” She paused, lips opening and closing hesitantly. “I don't know why, but you're different. You obviously know something isn't normal here. So I'd really, really like to talk.” 

You hesitated, crossing your arms. “If I let you in here, how do I know you won't just… try to shut me up.” You couldn't phrase it any other way. 

“I'm not going to hurt you,” she said. She brought her hands up, fingers seeming to press at some invisible barrier that separated you. “Besides,” she added with a short, wicked flash of teeth (you had never noticed just how sharp her canines really were), “I'm not particularly worried about you spreading anything. Nobody would actually believe you.” 

You swallowed, her words sending a dangerous chill down your spine. She was right, of course. Who would believe somebody who started spreading rumors that some rich woman they met on a dating website was a bloodthirsty monster? 

Every ounce of your self-preservation instincts told you to close the door, to ignore the inhuman pull you felt towards her. It screamed at you that this was an awful idea that could only end in heartbreak, that you'd be far safer if you simply never spoke to this woman again. It was the natural instinct of prey. 

And yet, like an idiot, you said, “Fine. You can come in.” 

With the spell broken, Ellie stepped through the doorway with a relieved sigh. You took a hasty step back to let her through, but it didn't much matter. By coming through, she stepped right into your personal space, so close that you could feel her breath on your cheeks. It brought a rush of memories from the night at her house - you could practically feel the hard bookcase against your back, her lips pressing against your pulse, so shockingly hot compared to the rest of her. 

You muttered an apology - unsure just what you were apologizing for - and stepped aside. Gesturing to your living room, you said, “Make yourself comfortable,” before retreating to the kitchen. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a retreat. Your apartment was small, no larger than Ellie’s bedroom, probably (you tried very hard to not think about Ellie’s bedroom). The sink was only a few extra steps away from your couch, but the shabby carpet changed abruptly into tile, so it was technically a different room. 

When you went to ask her again if she wanted anything to drink, your voice died in your throat. Does she drink? That thought alone caused your brain to short-circuit, some survival instinct forcing you to face reality and change the question to Does she drink water? 

You decided not to ask, instead filling up two glasses of water before squaring your shoulders, taking a deep breath, and going back into the living room. It was small, only enough space for a single sofa that had been gifted to you, a coffee table, a TV stand that you had found at a second-hand shop, and a small TV that you bought off of Facebook marketplace. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy. You had set up string lights on the ceiling, and you plugged them in before turning off the blaring overhead light, casting the room in a warm, hazy glow. 

Ellie had taken a seat on the sofa, hands fiddling absently in her lap. You set the glasses down on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away as you physically could. You pulled your legs up so they acted as a barrier between you. 

After several long, unbearably silent moments, Ellie blew out a breath, laughing awkwardly. She didn't look at you when she said, “You probably have questions.”

“No shit, I have questions.” It came out sharper than you intended, and you just hoped she couldn't bleed. “My first one being why the hell did you show up to my apartment in the middle of the night?” 

Ellie winced; you almost felt bad about it. “To be fair, it's only seven.” When you only scowled at her, she hastily continued, “I told you. I missed you. I… I was worried about you.” 

“Why?” you said, unable to prevent your voice from softening. “We only went on one date.” 

Ellie shrugged, looking as though she'd be blushing if she could. Her voice was small when she said, “I just… really like you, I guess.” 

And you decided to leave it at that. 

“What are you?” you asked instead.

She looked at you then, a twinkle in her eye. “I think you know that already.” 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

Ellie held your gaze; you felt as though you were paralyzed, your body frozen under the watchful eyes of a predator. “I have a lot of names. Nosferatu. Hominus Nocturna. Upyr. Leech. Blood breed.” Her teeth - fangs - flashed when she smiled. “Vampire. Pick your favorite.” 

You weren’t surprised - you had known, after all. But your hands shook where they rested on your knees, your palms suddenly sticky with sweat. Your heart hammered against your ribs and you wondered if she could hear it. You weren’t surprised, your body just hadn't gotten the memo. 

You nodded and cleared your throat. You reached for the glass just to have something to do with your hands. The cold water was a blissful distraction, giving you a moment of reprieve. When you set it back down, you hoped she didn’t see the way your fingers trembled. 

When you found your tongue again, you said, “What about the pictures?” When Ellie only furrowed her brow and cocked her head, you continued, “On your profile. And all the pictures you sent me. All the myths say that… vampires,” you choked on the word, “don’t show up in pictures. And mirrors,” you added, suddenly remembering the mirror in her foyer. You left the question hanging in the air, a tangible thing, until Ellie reached out to grab it. 

“That myth was written centuries ago,” she said, amusement tinting her words. “Silver… silver’s basically my kryptonite, right? That one’s true. Mirrors used to be made with it, which is why it wouldn’t show a reflection. But now they’re mostly made of aluminum, I think - like the one you saw at my house. Photos are the same idea,” she continued, taking out her phone as though to demonstrate. She turned the camera on, turning it around so you could see her image on the screen. “Film cameras were made with silver too - a lot of film cameras still are. But for the most part, there’s none in phone cameras. I can send you all the selfies you want.” Her image in the camera grinned that devastatingly crooked grin before she clicked the phone off again, tucking it back into her pocket. 

Her mini history lesson left your head spinning. You shook it off and said, “Did you ask me out just to…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence. 

Elllie’s eyes widened in alarm. She turned her entire body to you, and you suddenly wanted to shrink away from her intense stare. Her words rushed past her lips, fighting to get out first: “No! Holy shit, no - it’s not like that, I swear. I asked you out because I liked you, okay?” 

You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that pulled at your lips. Cocking a brow, you teased, “Past tense?” 

Ellie fumbled for a moment, her lips opening and closing with no sound, before she finally huffed out an incredulous laugh, looking up at you from under her lashes. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest. Clearing your throat, you said, “Do you… Do you turn people?” 

“I haven’t for a long time.” 

You weren’t sure if that brought you any comfort. 

You didn’t want to ask, but you needed to know: “How many… humans have you killed?” 

Ellie didn’t look at you when she said, “You don’t want to know the answer to that.” She paused before adding, “But if it’s any comfort, I haven’t done that in a long time either.” 

“So if you don’t turn people and you don’t kill them, what do you eat?” You regretted the question as soon as you asked it. 

“You can… feed on somebody without turning them. It takes practice to know how much to drink without hurting them. And I’ve had a lot of practice.” 

You decided to leave it at that. 

“If you’re not trying to… you know, feed… on me…,” the words felt impossibly big in your mouth, “then can you turn it off?” 

Ellie’s brow furrowed again. “Turn what off?” 

“You know, the,” you waved a hand over yourself, as if encompassing your entire being, “the weird, vampire allure you have. The intense… draw I feel when I’m near you.” 

When you looked up at her, Ellie had that playful spark in her eye again, her lips quirking. She was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing she had ever seen, something new and entrancing. “That’s a myth,” she murmured.

The soft, rough tone in her voice caused a shiver to race down your spine. You asked, dumbly, “What?” 

Ellie’s smile only widened. “There’s no weird, vampire allure. There’s nothing supernatural about that. That’s just how much you like me.” 

Your cheeks flushed, your skin aflame with something akin to embarrassment, but it was slightly softer, more pleasant. You nodded, and could only bring your lips to say, weakly, “Okay.”

But Ellie didn't seem keen on dropping it. She turned to face you fully, drawing her legs up onto the couch; it was small enough that you could feel her pants on your shin, the rough press of denim against your bare skin. “Hell no, you don't just get to brush past that. You really-” She licked her lips and you tried not to trace the path of her tongue with your eyes. 

She didn't have to finish the question. Besides, there'd be no point in hiding it. Maybe you didn't even want to.

You looked up at her, her intense expression making you want to sink into the floor. You made yourself nod, your tongue refusing to hold onto any words to describe it. 

Ellie leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving yours. You felt so incredibly small under her gaze. Something akin to hunger flashed in her eyes, the eagerness of a snake right before it strikes, yet the icy feeling of fear didn't run through your blood. No, something far warmer flooded your veins. 

Her voice dropping to a murmur, Ellie said, “Got any more questions, sweetheart?” 

You almost didn't ask. You shouldn't, really. It'd be like tempting fate, placing your head right into its enticing maw. But your curiosity tugged at you, impossible to ignore or deny, so you said, “Can I see them?”

You didn't want to elaborate - you didn't even have to. Ellie pulled her legs under her so she could lean closer, close enough for you to smell that sweetly metallic scent that made your head spin. Still, she gave you enough space to move away as she parted her lips, watching you carefully.

Her fangs glistened in the low light, the bulbs above you glinting off the pearly white surface. You weren't sure how you didn’t notice them before. You didn't want to say they were obvious, but they were definitely hard to miss. They extended just below her regular teeth, longer than a canine should have been, the tip wickedly sharp. 

You reached a hand out subconsciously, stopping just a few inches from her face. Your fingers curled, your fight or flight instincts warring with that same stubborn curiosity that you couldn’t seem to tamp down. You were not about to literally put your hand in the bear's mouth - but then Ellie met your eyes with a hunger that burned your cheeks, her still-parted lips curling up in amusement, and nodded. 

You felt her breath against your skin, hot and wet, as you moved closer, pressing just the tip of your finger against the point of a fang. 

You immediately drew your hand back, wincing at the sudden sting. The slightest touch had pricked your skin, the point deadly sharp. 

“Shit,” you hissed, watching as a bead of blood bloomed thick and red, tracing a line down your finger. You cursed again, popping the digit into your mouth in an attempt to stop the bleeding, the taste of metal coating your tongue. Pulling your finger from your mouth, you grimaced apologetically up at Ellie and said, laughing awkwardly, “Fuck, those things are sharp-” 

You didn’t get to finish your sentence; you hardly even had time to register the sudden, intense hunger etched on every line of Ellie's face. Her cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, her grip just shy of painful. Her other hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your face up to kiss you. 

It wasn't like what it had been at her house all those nights ago. There, in the low light of her sitting room, her kiss had been warm and slow, a gentle guidance that left you relaxed and pleasantly lightheaded, like the wine that had still blurred the edges of your vision. It had been a kiss that was really more of a question, one you hadn’t yet had the answer to. 

The way Ellie kissed you now felt like a demand. She leaned over you, releasing your wrist to brace herself on the armrest behind your shoulder, her body pressed in a cold line against yours, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. She wedged her knee between yours, the rough denim of her jeans scratching your bare thighs, and an involuntary shudder wracked through your body. Using the hand against your jaw, Ellie tilted your chin just right to press in harder, pressing her tongue against the seam of your lips. You gasped, parting your lips, a heady warmth pooling between your legs. You felt Ellie's tongue press into you in search of metal- 

It was too fast for you to process, but suddenly Ellie was back on the other side of the couch, gasping for air she didn't need. She had a hand over her mouth, refusing to look at you. 

“Fuck,” she cursed, muffled by her fingers. Her other hand clutched at the cushion beneath her, as though it were a restraint. “Shit, I'm sorry. That was totally - I shouldn't have - fuck.”

Your brain was dizzy with whiplash, your chest still fighting to regain the breath she had stolen from you. You were suddenly far too warm, missing the chill of her body against yours. Your hands that had somehow ended up fisted in the cushions ached when you released them; a small splotch of blood stained the fabric from your injured finger, staining your skin. 

Past the haze in your brain and the warmth that was impossible to ignore between your legs, you could only make your mouth say, “What the fuck, Ellie?” 

It was like you had kicked a dog. Ellie - with her razor sharp teeth and predatory instincts - hung her head in shame, squeezing her eyes closed. She scrubbed a hand over her face and moved to stand, saying, “I'm so fucking sorry, I'll leave-” 

You reached out to grab her wrist, the cold biting into your fingers. For a moment it seemed like she was frozen, caught in ice, staring down at where your skin met hers. You could feel a pulse pounding in your fingers and you knew it wasn't hers. 

“Why the fuck,” you said before your own traitorous heart gave out on you, “did you stop?” 

You saw the question in Ellie’s eyes before she said it. You couldn't hear her ask it - if you did, the logical part of your brain might catch up to you and stop you. You tugged on her wrist, wrapping your other hand around the back of her neck to pull her back into you. 

The logical part of you - the part that fought to keep you alive - didn't matter right now. 

Ellie’s gasp was muffled as you pulled her down to kiss her again, grunting when she landed clumsily on top of you. There was a moment where you both froze, your lips locked, and you mentally prepared yourself for the awkwardness that would surely follow. 

Yet, surprisingly, it never came. Instead, Ellie giggled into your mouth and the taste of it was like the sweetest drug, coating your throat and giving you a euphoric high. She moved the arm you were still holding, twisting her wrist so she could slide her hand into yours, locking your fingers. Her other hand braced against the couch by your hip, supporting herself as she finally pulled away from you. She didn’t go far; you could see each speck of green and brown and gold in her eyes, could count her freckles like you had counted the stars as a child. 

Ellie was laughing, but there was no malice behind it. It was warm, far too warm for the silence that lived within her ribcage. You wondered if it would taste like the wine she had bought you - like wood and fire on your tongue, a sultry spice that was just a little out of your tax bracket. 

“What are you doing?” Ellie murmured, her breath catching in your lashes. 

You shrugged, feeling exposed under her intense gaze, sure she could hear the tremble in your breath. You shifted, leaning back on your elbows and looking up at her through your lashes. You tried - and failed - to sound nonchalant when you said, “We never finished what we started at your house.” 

Ellie furrowed her brow and you had the strongest urge to reach up and smooth it out. Confusion was a cute look on her. “Are you sure?” she said, looking at you like you might run away any moment. “I mean-“ 

You placed your finger on her bottom lip, her words coming to a stuttering stop. There was still blood smeared on your skin, a new bloom pooling from the wound, tracing its slow path down to your knuckle. Ellie froze, her trembling lips the only part that seemed capable of movement. You felt like you’d choke on your own held breath.

Ellie’s eyes were eclipsed, a barely contained hunger hiding in wait there. You had never before felt so much like watched prey, like a mouse taunting a cat, fascinated by its sharp teeth. Her voice was a low murmur, a heat you could feel against your skin and in your chest: “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know.” 

You hummed, tilting your head and dipping the tip of your finger between her parted lips. You felt her shudder, her mouth dropping open, and a flush crept up your neck, tingling in each of your fingertips. Ellie’s eyelids fluttered; she gripped your hand so tight it ached in your wrist. She was shaking under your hands, desperately trying to hold herself together even as she was coming apart at the seams. 

You waited until she opened her eyes, looking at you for some kind of relief. You pressed your finger to her tongue lightly, just enough for her to taste the fresh blood there, and said, “The best games always are.” 

That must have been all the confirmation Ellie needed. She wrapped her lips around your finger, her tongue warm and wet against your skin. You felt her moan, the purr of it against your hand, the vibration of it tracing a hot finger down your chest, settling low in your stomach. When she sucked, her throat bobbing, you felt it like electricity, as though her tongue were elsewhere. 

Ellie whined when you pulled your hand back, leaving a smear of blood on her bottom lip. Her eyes were half-lidded, her breath hard and fast against your cheeks, and you couldn't stop yourself from grabbing her hair and pulling her back into you. 

Her mouth tasted of metal - of you, your life. It should have been repulsive, tasting the thing that rushed beneath your skin on somebody's tongue, but it only sent a warm shudder through your body, pooling low in your stomach. Her fingers pressed into the dip at your hip, digging in enough to bruise. Ellie groaned when you pressed your tongue between her lips, chasing the taste of your own lifeblood. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” she moaned against your lips. She pressed you back against the cushions, slotting her thigh between your legs- 

You pulled back, panting. You tried to speak - you had something to say, but you couldn't quite remember it as you met Ellie's hungry eyes. She had you pinned, her thigh pressing just too lightly where you wanted her most, and every coherent thought you could have had dissolved into the air. 

“I, um,” you started, words failing you. Ellie tilted her head with a smug smirk, but something akin to concern flashed in her eyes, so you tried again. “I was just thinking - Wouldn't you rather do this somewhere… nicer?” You winced, unsure how else to word it. Your small, shabby apartment was definitely a step - several dozen steps - down from her fucking Victorian mansion. 

Ellie paused, looking around at the small space before you. Her eyes lingered on the small TV, a dying plant in the corner, the pictures of your family and friends hanging on the walls. She took it in slowly, as though there were more to consider than a living room the size of her closet, before finally looking back down at you. 

Shrugging, she said, “I think it's nice,” and leaned down to kiss you again. 

Without any further protest, you tangled your fingers in Ellie's hair, using the leverage to pull her closer. When she gasped at the sting of it, you couldn't stop the buck of your hips, grinding down against her thigh, whimpering at the friction of denim between your legs. Ellie pressed her thigh further into you, smiling against your lips when you moaned; you could feel each jolt of electricity through the thin fabric of your shorts. 

Ellie hummed, tracing her tongue in a hot line down your jaw. She pressed a hard kiss to the hinge of your jaw and murmured, voice rough in your ear, “I need to know how else you taste.” 

You groaned, arching up into her. You felt, with a cold realization, her teeth against your skin, her fangs pressing at the soft swell of your throat. She didn’t press in hard enough to harm you - hard enough to feed on you - but just hard enough for you to feel the sting of it. You tilted your head back, granting her better access, and felt her grin against you, a short huff of laughter in your ear. 

“God, it’s like you want me to.” Her voice was the purr of a cat playing with its food. She released her vice grip on your hip, instead gliding her hand over your stomach, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt. You cursed, shivering from more than just her cold skin on yours. You wanted to swallow her accompanying moan. “It’d be so easy just to sink my teeth in right,” she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, and you were sure she could feel it jump beneath her lips, “here.” 

Ellie’s hand glided up your stomach, rucking up your shirt. Goosebumps raised across your skin, exposed to the chilly air of your apartment. She was right - some reckless, animalistic part of you wanted to know what it’d feel like. Some part of you wanted her to sink her teeth into you and take whatever she wanted.

”Can I?” Ellie murmured, breaking you from your thoughts. She had your shirt fisted in her hand, looking at you with raw want, and it made your head spin. You only lifted your arms in response, helping her tug your shirt over your head. 

You cursed, shielding your body, a shiver racking through your shoulders. “Fuck, it’s cold,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. “You’re not exactly helping either. You’re like a fucking-“ 

You almost said vampire and bit your tongue around another mindless laugh. 

Ellie leaned back to take you in, her eyes raking over your body; you felt strangely like you were exposed beneath a magnifying glass. She gently pulled your hands away from your body, raising them above your head so she could see you, bare and vulnerable before her. She grasped your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the armrest above your head. She traced the other hand across your chest, a trail of goosebumps following her touch. 

“This is my favorite part, you know.” She still refused to speak any louder than a murmur, a low growl, as though to speak any loud would break whatever spell she had over you. You groaned when cold fingers skated over your nipple, pulling a smile to her lips. “Seeing someone squirming under me. Seeing their want, feeling it written across their body.” She leaned down over you, her lips barely brushing against yours, and whispered, “I can hear the pounding of your heart.” She pinched your nipple between her fingers, pulling a choked gasp from your chest. “I can hear it skip every time I touch you.” 

You tried to lift your head, wanting desperately to catch her lips, but she was too fast. She released your wrists, but you left them where they were, not quite registering the sudden freedom because her tongue - so hot compared to the rest of her - licked a slow line over your nipple, her fingers still toying with the other. Your whole body jolted, your chest lifting to meet her waiting mouth, and you felt her smile against your skin. 

Lifting her head, Ellie gave your nipple a last teasing pinch before letting her hand glide down your body. You whimpered when her fingers dipped just below your waistband and you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it, because she was looking at you again with those dark, hungry eyes and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be devoured. Ellie ran her hand over your waistband, fingers coming to grip your hip so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises there in the morning, branded with her fingerprints. 

She cursed, fingers tightening around your hips, pulling at you impatiently. “Fuck, come here.” 

Ellie guided you to sit up, maneuvering you so you were sitting straight, your feet planted firmly on the floor. She crawled off the couch, kneeling on the floor before you, her hands gently but firmly coaxing your knees apart. Pressing a hand to your chest, Ellie pushed you back to relax against the cushions before she settled on the floor between your legs. Your heart was pounding against your rib cage, and it made you dizzy knowing that she could hear it like music. 

Humming, Ellie leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, smiling when you shivered. Your brain was distracted by the heat in your stomach, so you almost didn’t realize she was talking again: “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Taking you home that night.” She pressed another kiss to your feverish skin, lips tracing higher up your thigh, her teeth grazing your skin enough to sting. “I can’t stop thinking about how you smelled - sinfully sweet. How you sounded, the flutter of your heart when I kissed you. The prettiest sounds spilled from your lips when I kissed your neck - you were practically begging me to bite you.” 

You gasped when she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh. She didn’t break your skin - didn’t drink from you - but when she pulled back you could see the red welt she had left behind. You hoped it would bruise by morning. 

“Stop talking,” you whined, reaching out to twist your fingers in her hair. She huffed a laugh against your skin when you tugged. “God, I didn’t know you’d be such a tease when I matched with you.” 

In response, Ellie brought a hand up to press her palm right between your legs. You gasped, the chill of her fingers through your thin shorts like a shot of electricity through you. Smiling, Elle grinded her palm against you, right where the fabric was the wettest. You had to bite your lip to stifle a moan. 

“I like to take my time,” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I want to watch you come apart for me. And I will take,” she continued, pressing harder against you until you saw stars, “however long I want.” 

You cursed when she removed her hand, quickly replacing it with her mouth. Ellie pressed a kiss to the crease of your thigh, her tongue warm against the exposed skin. When you pulled at her hair, you could feel the vibration of her moans. She took the waistband of your shorts between her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin and chuckling when you jumped. 

“You smell so fucking good,” she said, voice muffled as she pressed a kiss right where you wanted her most. You tried to buck up into her, to chase the feeling of her mouth and her teeth, but she dug her fingers into the dip of your hipbones and held you in place. She breathed you in, and you could feel her warm breath fanning over you. Ellie groaned, so low it was nearly a growl, and said, “Fuck, I need to taste you.”

The only word you could make your mindless mouth say was Please as you lifted your hips, hastily helping Ellie shove your shorts and underwear down your legs. You had never before felt the rough fabric of your couch against your bare ass and you frankly weren’t sure how you felt about it, but that thought was promptly shoved from your mind because Ellie was hooking her arms under your legs, tugging you closer so your hips were right at the edge of the couch. You let your head fall back when she pressed a kiss to your pussy, just the barest brush of her lips. 

“Look at me,” Ellie said, her nails digging into your thighs. You lifted your head to look down at her, confused, and the sight of her kneeling between your legs made your stomach do an embarrassing flip. Your legs tried to close on instinct against the new wave of warmth between them, but Ellie’s hands hooked under your thighs kept them apart. 

Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, on her knees before you. Her eyes were impossibly dark, the green appearing nearly black. Her plush, pink lips were parted, short huffs of breath fanning against you - you couldn’t look away from those lips, imaging all the impossible things she could do to you. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” she murmured, holding your gaze - you couldn’t even think about looking away. “If you look away, I’ll stop. Understand?” She waited until you finally nodded - nothing more than a short jerk of your head - before she smiled. You barely heard her quiet “Good girl” before she pressed forward and licked a slow, hot line over you. 

Instinct wanted to let your head fall back again but, remembering her threat, you forced yourself to keep your eyes trained on Ellie, bearing witness to how she unraveled you. She held your hot gaze as she drew slow, torturous circles around your clit with her tongue, just barely brushing against where you needed her most. 

An embarrassing whine pulled at your throat as you tried desperately to press down against her mouth, but Ellie’s hands held you firmly in place. The only thing you could do was twist your fingers in her hair, tugging uselessly as you watched her take her goddamn time. She didn’t lie - she was going to take exactly as long as she wanted. 

“Oh, fuck.” You couldn't control the breathy moans spilling from your mouth when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a slow stripe up to your aching clit. Your fingers tightened in her hair, and you felt the vibration of her moan like a shot of electricity. Forgetting her demand entirely, you let your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against the cushions. 

You whimpered pathetically when Ellie pulled away, the sudden loss of her mouth like a tangible ache. You raised your head, a complaint already on your tongue, but it died behind your teeth. Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, her hair slicked back from her forehead, and those perfectly parted lips shined wetly - slick with you. She untangled one hand from around your thigh, choosing instead to slide her fingers over your pussy. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” she said, and pressed two fingers inside you. 

You cursed, a high pitched moan hanging in the air before you. Your eyes wanted to roll back, but you blinked hard, forcing them to stay trained on Ellie. You couldn't bear the thought of her stopping again. 

Green eyes looked up at you from between your legs, shining dangerously. Pressing back in, she flicked her tongue over your clit before taking it into her mouth, your hips bucking when she sucked. You hooked your legs over her shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull her closer, your heels digging into her back; you used your grip on her hair to guide her exactly where you needed her, watching her eyes flutter as she groaned against you. 

Ellie curled her fingers inside you, rubbing circles over that soft spot that made you see stars. In some distant, hysteric part of your mind, you thought about how you were definitely being loud enough for your neighbors to hear you through your paper-thin walls, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care because she was pressing her tongue against your clit, her fingers inside of you moving to the same intoxicating beat. 

An overwhelming warmth was building up in your stomach, a heat that you were desperate to hang on to. You gripped Ellie’s hair, afraid she would pull away, because you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back, fluttering shut against the wave that crashed into you. She must have been feeling merciful, because she didn’t even slow when you let your head drop back, breathy moans just dripping from your lips like honey, slow and thick and impossibly sweet. You couldn’t think of anything past Ellie’s mouth and tongue and fingers, every sense you had honing in on the heat of her lips. You arched into her when you came, hips bucking against her mouth, chasing a high that would be all too easy to get addicted to. 

Ellie worked you through it, tracing gentle circles over your clit and drawing the sweetest whimpers from your lips. She didn’t stop until your vice grip on her hair finally released, your hips stilling as you slumped back against the cushions. She finally pulled away, leaning back against her heels, and when you looked down at her you nearly whimpered at the sight. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles from your incessant tugging, her lips swollen and shining. She licked her lips and you felt like you might die. 

“Fuck,” was all you could say, laughing weakly. You felt spent, your chest aching from the breath you couldn’t quite catch. 

Ellie hummed, tilting her head, that infuriating smirk back on her lips. She pushed herself up onto her knees, one hand snaking its way to your hip, and you realized the fingers on her other hand were still inside you. She held your gaze, raising her eyebrows as though looking for permission, before she slowly slid her fingers out of you, pausing for one maddening moment, before pressing them roughly back into you. 

“Fuck,” you said again, your back arching into her. Your fingers twisted in the cushions under you as though you needed something to hold onto. 

“God, look at you,” she murmured, pumping her fingers into you, hard and slow, pressing into the intoxicating spot inside you. “So fucking pretty. Your body’s practically begging for me.” 

Your mouth dropped open when her thumb found your clit, sliding over it in the same delicious rhythm of her fingers. You whimpered, body jolting when she leaned up just enough to take your nipple into her mouth, eyes crossing when she slammed into you harder. 

It didn’t take long for you to come again, your orgasm slamming into you with such force that sparks flashed in your eyes. You reached out to grip Ellie’s shoulder, nails digging into her skin as though to keep yourself grounded. You thought you cried her name, but you couldn’t be sure. 

She didn’t stop until you were twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering beneath her. Ellie released your nipple, pressing a gentle kiss to your breastbone as she slowly slid her fingers out of you. You clenched around the sudden emptiness, missing her fingers even though your pussy ached, overstimulated and spent. 

Ellie leaned back to look up at you, waiting until you met her blurry eyes before she slipped her fingers past her lips, sucking the digits into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, tongue gathering every last drop of you. 

You groaned, watching as she slid her fingers slowly from her lips, before you grabbed her face and pulled her up into a kiss. You pressed your tongue past her lips, moaning at the sharp taste of you on her tongue. 

Ellie was laughing when she pulled away, taking your face in her hands. She looked up at you, those green eyes shining so brightly you felt like you had to look away. You held her gaze anyway, unwilling to look away from the sun. You weren’t sure what it meant - what any of this meant, really. You had let this strange girl into your apartment, knowing exactly what she was, and had let her unravel you on your gifted couch. You had gone on one date, and instead of finding somebody else to take home to her ridiculous Victorian home, she had sought you out. 

Honestly, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, she had said. 

You weren’t sure what any of it meant. But, honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. 

“For the record,” Ellie said, pausing to press another long kiss to your lips; when she pulled away, she didn’t go far, her lips moving against yours, “that wasn’t any weird vampire allure either.” 

@macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peekayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound @kirammanss @elliespookie @starsfortaylor @ripelyswife @autisticintr0vert @g3latin @sunflarie @williamellieslilho @kl1q @livvieloveswomen

[lilbitt]

What are Brothers For?

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore X Annie

A/N: Sooo, Hi! I write a lil bit, but I’ve never written fan fiction a day in my life and I blame this entirely on Michael and Wumni for shooting that scene the way they did. And I blame Ryan too, for leaving it like that. My brain wouldn’t let me rest until I got these words out on a google doc and I figured I’d post it, cause why not. Lol enjoy, or don’t idk. May not be that amazing but EYE was cheesing while writing it. Also, this is damn near 9k words. I, honest to God, tried to end it at 5k, then 6, then 7 and Stack and Annie? Yea, those mfs were NOT letting me. I do not take responsibility for this length. It ended when they were done 👐🏾

C/W: A lil angst, SMUT, cursing, a beginner in writing southern dialect 🥹, MDI

She should have felt it. As soon as she opened her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. If not then, while she prayed and tended to her alter. If not then, while she washed up and ate a quick breakfast. And if not then, while she opened up shop, despite the rare but heavy downpour that’d started, and that didn’t leave her anticipating many – if any – visitors. She shoulda’ felt that something was….off – something in the air that would make an ordinary Tuesday, unordinary. But she hadn’t.

She blamed it on her mood, on the nasty attitude she’d been tryin’, and failin’, to shake. It’d overtaken her senses. The persistent thrum of irritation buzzing under her skin. The annoyance that’d started off twisting low in her stomach, before slitherin’ its way up to her chest where it settled – heavy and uncomfortable. The anger that gripped at her throat – pointed, hot, unrelentin’ like the Mississippi heat. It was all too heavy, and all that heaviness was distractin’. 

Still, she tried to go on like business as usual. 

While rain pounded on the roof, Annie worked. Or she started to, taking some light inventory, and then staring into space as if orders filled themselves. As if enough doing nothing could clear her head, and settle her heart, and allow her to do the sacred work her people trusted her with. Truth was, she hadn’t felt clear – hadn’t felt at peace – in days. And maybe that was her fault. Keeping her thoughts to herself and not speakin’ the words she knew she should be mature enough to express. 

Words she felt she shouldn’t have to express. 

And that’s what really had her swallowin’ down the things that’d be better off spoken. Cause, before, they hadn’t needed words.  Annie and Smoke had put the work in, learned each other inside out – had energies so intertwined they could sense when everything was all good. Could sense when it was the opposite. And all it took was a look, a touch, a twitch of a lip to fill each other out and fix what was goin’ on. Even after he’d left for some years, chasing money she didn’t ask for and running behind a brother that would never sit still, their connection was still there. Hadn’t just disappeared. She could still read him better than any bones she threw. And he could still read her – should still be able to read her. Pick up on her moods. Fix what was wrong. But, Annie guessed to fix what was wrong – one had to notice somethin’ was wrong, and to notice somethin’ was wrong, one had to be around – and these days? His black ass never was. 

Between the Juke, and whateva’ the hell else he and Stack got up to, Annie didn’t see much difference between him being up north versus back here in the Delta. He was never around when he’d run off to Chicago, and he was hardly around now. 

Annie sucked her teeth, just thinkin’ about it. Why should she have to beg for a scrap of his attention after he’d left her? After she’d taken him back despite the pain he’d caused? The pain he was still causing? She wouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t have to do it. Not when he’d talked so much shit ‘bout how he loved her, and was sorry, and was ready ta’ pick up where they left off. It had all sounded good, but words anit mean nothin’ when the only time he cared to be around was when he was sleepin’. 

She was confused, and angry, and hurt, and neglected, and horny and it was fuckin’ wit her mojo. She was love and light, and he was bringin’ storm clouds.

Annie shook her head at herself, laughing, completely unamused. “Who else but the great Elijah Moore to get me outta character?” He made her sick. An’ she wanted him to fix it. 

A pounding, heavy like the rain, but louder and harsher on her ears, startled Annie out of her thoughts, and she jumped a little, head turning towards her door. The wood threatened to cave in, somebody was kockin’ so hard. 

“Now just who in the hell–?”

“Annie! Girl, open this do’. A nigga ‘bouta drown out here!” 

Her big brown eyes were rolling before Stack even finished speaking. This anit the Moore she’d asked for. Still, she padded across the room to answer, save he actually break her door down and she have to cut him as a result. She swung the door open, just as Stack, who stood protected from the rain on her porch, had raised his hand to ‘knock’ again. 

“You done lost yo mind bangin’ on my door like that? What’s wrong with you?” 

Stack’s thick lips split into a grin, arm dropping at his side. 

“Now, why you gotta greet a nigga like that Annie? I was just makin’ sure you heard me.” His dimple popped, gold caps glinting. “Now lemme in. It’s nasty out here girl. Hot as hell too.” 

And it was. Just cause it was raining in the Delta, didn’t mean it was cool in the Delta. The heat was still there. Now it was just wet heat – thick and humid and suffocating. Still, Annie didn’t move, crossing her arms under her heavy bosom instead. 

“What chu’ want Stack?”  

His shoulders rose then dropped, lips still curved up. “I was in the area.” 

Annie’s cheek didn’t even twitch. 

Stack wrinkled his nose playfully.

“You so mean sometimes,” he laughed. “Nah, you got me. I’m playin’ errand boy. Smoke sent me to check up on ya’. Figured it was gone start rainin’ and wanted to make sure you was good. Glad my ass left ‘fo it really started coming down.” 

Annie’s cheek twitched at that. But not cause she thought somethin’ was funny. Wasn’t shit funny bout what he’d just said actually. 

“‘Scuse me?” 

The heavy feeling that already sat in her chest grew heavier, distractin’ her and allowing Stack to slide inside, her feet shifting unconsciously to let him by. 

He walked in like he owned the place, eyes flitting over the herbs, and spices, and everything else she had lining the shelves in her shop. He didn’t know if he believed in all that – magic, and spells, and spirits. There was damn sure no magic present when he was growin’ up. No spirits watchin’ over him. No spells to make the bad go away. But shit, maybe it wasn’t like that for everybody – maybe some niggas had somebody on the other side lookin’ out. And maybe he’d had his brother, and his brother’d had him and that was all they’d needed to get through. 

“He sent you to what?” Stack turned around to face her.

“To check on you. Why you looking like that?” 

Annie didn’t know how she was looking. But she could guess. She felt her eyes squint further, like she could make sense of the words Stack was saying. Not that they were hard to comprehend, just that–

“Why he couldn’t bring his ass down here and check on me himself?” 

Stack blinked. Then smirked. 

“He holed up in his lil office, stressin’ bout numbers like always. What, you miss him? Yo man’ll be back tonight girl.” 

Annie laughed. Sharp, decisive, done.

“The hell he will,” Annie started walking, stompin’ really, deeper into the house, leaving the door wide open. “You can take yo’ happy ass right back down to that Juke Joint and tell ‘im I’m just fine. And tell that nigga to get comfortable down there while you at it, cause he anit comin back here. Run that errand.”

She entered her small kitchen, pacing back and forth to work out some of her energy. He’d been coming in after she’d already went to bed, rising before her eyes were open in the morning, and now he couldn’t be bothered to come out and check on her himself? 

Stack didn’t go back to the Juke. Instead, he closed the door, shutting them off from the rain that was coming down harder than before – as if it sensed the river of emotion welling up in Annie – and followed behind her.

“Uh,” his voice paused Annies pacing. She turned her head sharply in his direction, eyebrow arched like she dared him to say somethin’ stupid. “Y’all havin a lil lovers spat or somethin’?” 

“Or somethin’.” Her voice was flat. “I anit in the mood for you or yo brothers shit today. You can let yoself out.” It wasn’t Stack she was mad at. Not really. She loved Stack, not so much as a brother, but more so as an extension of Smoke. There wasn’t one without the other. Elijah wouldn’t be Elijah without Elias, and vice versa, so she’d made space for both men in her life when she committed to being with one. Right now though, she didn’t have space for either of them, especially Stacks childish ass.

“Now hol’ on,” he stepped further into the kitchen, voice light, lips tugging upwards like this was a game. “Why it gotta be all that? Big brotha’ fuckin’ up? What he do? Talk to Stacky Stack.” He pulled out a chair, plopping down and leaning back, spreading his legs wide like he had all the time in the world. Like Annie wasn’t spitting fire at him with her eyes. 

“You think this funny Stack?” She stood directly in front of him, lips twisting up. “You anit bout to come up in here, treating me like I’m a joke, cause you a child stuck in a grown man’s body, and can’t take nothin’ serious. Now I told you to leave.” 

His eyes got comically big, “Who said you was a joke??” 

She’d opened her mouth to respond, stepping forward threateningly, and he quickly cut her off. 

“Annie, swea’ fo’ God, I don’t think you a joke. I know better than that. My bad for playin’.” He raised his hands in surrender, dropping any smirk that’d lingered on his lips. “I just anit know y’all was fighting, is all. Anit like y’all.” 

Annie considered him for a moment, and then sighed, shoulders losing their defensive edge, and feet starting to pace again. 

“We ain’t fightin’,” she mumbled. “He gotta be around for us to fight.” She was talking moreso to herself, finally speaking the words that’d been tumbling ‘round in her brain the last few days. “Maybe I was mistakin’ thinkin’ we could pick up where we left off. Thinkin’  that spark was still there. Maybe things done changed too much. It gotta be that. Been waiting on him all this time, just for him to come back and treat me like this? It anit that much busy in the world.” 

Annie huffed, shaking her head. “Maybe I just need to cut my losses. Go be wit’ somebody that wonna wake up to me in the morning at least.” 

Those last words were spoken out of hurt, just her venting mostly, but Stack sat straight up, eyes narrowing on her with a seriousness that rivaled his brothers. 

“What chu’ mean?” 

Annie paused, blinking, and turning her head to face the younger twin like she’d just remembered he was there. 

He was watching her, posture stiff, muscles tensed in his collared shirt like he didn’t plan to exhale til she answered. 

Annie raised an eyebrow. She knew why he was looking like that, and she doubled down, purely out of spite. 

“I meant what I said. Maybe I needa’ find somebody new. Put all this old shit behind me.” 

There. Let him run back to the Juke and report that to Elijah. 

Stack studied her for a beat and then slowly, much to her amusement, shook his head. Like she’d just asked him for permission to move on. 

“Nah. We ain’t gone go and do that. The nigga been a lil busy – I’ll give you that. I’ll tell him start bringing his ass home earlier, but you know he love you. You anit gon’–”

“I anit gon’ what?” She cut him off, laughing. “Stack, I’ma grown ass woman and I’ma do whatever I please.” 

Her laughter stopped. “Just like he do whatever he please.” The anger that’d been gripping her throat, let go, and the words came pouring out her mouth like lava. “The nigga like a ghost. After leaving me for all these years, he come back, and he like a ghost. Always at that damn Juke Joint, and wherever else he be. Ain’ never got time for me. For the woman that prayed over him every day while he was gone. For the woman that prayed over his brother. 

“No. Its fuck me. And he anit even been doin’ that. So if I wonna be wit’ somebody who actually present – who don’t avoid me like I’m the klan – who wants to be around me, and talk to me, and touch me, I can do that and it anit a thang a Moore on this earth can do about it,” she looked pointedly at Stack. “Any Moore.” 

A boom of thunder rang out, loud, and deep, and damn near shaking the little shack. It was warning them of the storms to come. Warning them that the rain wouldn’t be stopping no time soon, and that the Delta better get ready for a flood.

Neither party in the kitchen flinched at the sound. Their eyes remained locked, Annie’s chest rising and falling in anger, Stack still unmoving, still tense. He broke eye contact first, ‘hmming’ in the back of his throat, eyes darting to the floor before jumping back to hers. He nodded once, like he’d just made a decision, and then sat back in the chair, legs spreading wide again, shoulders dropping in that low easy way of his. He tilted his head back a little, let his eyelids drop slightly.

“C’mere.”  

Annie blinked. 

“Boy what?” His tone had dropped, voice low and thick and sweet – like honey. A tone that probably worked on every other woman in the Delta. Annie just looked at him like he was crazy. 

“You heard me. C’mere.” 

She stayed where she was, arms crossing, and eye brow raising in warning. 

“Boy, if you don’t get up, go on somewhere, an’ stop playin’ wit me. I just told you, this anit a game.” 

“You right, it anit.” He let his eyes roam her lazily, cocking his head a little as he traced over the swell of her chest, the curve of her hips, the softness of her stomach. He let her see that he was looking, even as her eyes narrowed dangerously at his gaze. “It anit a game at all Annie,” he was still talking low. “You plannin’ on gettin’ some random niggas killed, all cause you a lil mad right now and that ain’t right girl.” 

Annie’s face screwed up.

“Cause I’m ma–”

He cut her off.

“You say Smoke anit takin’ care of business? I believe you. His drawers up his ass right now. The nigga done forgot what he got at home. That’s his bad. Lemme talk to ‘im. But you know anit gon’ be no other niggas Annie. Don’t even talk like that. 

“You say you needa’ be listened to? Needa’ be touched? Needa’ work out some of that pressure? I’ll handle allat right now, but don’t make ’im – make us – put some nigga six feet deep cause you wonna act out.” 

Her mouth parted, no words coming out, as she processed what he’d just said. 

“Now, c’mere.” He jerked his head lazily, signaling for her to step forward. 

The processing was done. 

She laughed. Not meanly. Not angrily. Genuinely laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. The sound that bubbled up out of her throat wasn’t light and airy and polite. She was damn near wheezing, hunched over like he’d just told the joke of the decade. The sheer audacity of the Moore men – of men in general – needed to be studied. She didn’t even think Stack was playin’. She believed he was dead serious and that made her laugh harder, right there in the kitchen in front of his face, paying no mind to the way his lips started frowning up – to the way his eyes narrowed. 

“What’s funny?” 

She wiped at her eyes, standing up straight, and trying to get her shoulders to stop shaking. 

“You Stack. You are what’s funny,” she looked him dead in the eyes, not phased by the look she saw on his face. She saw that same look on Smoke’s face all the time. The exact same look – literally. “You think you can ‘handle’ me and Smoke wouldn’t put you six feet deep? You think you, can tell me, what I can and cannot do? You think if I even let you touch me, you’d have the slightest idea of what to do wit’ all this?” She chortled. “Nigga please. Even if you did know what to do wit’ me, an’ you don’t, it anit gone fix what Smoke is doin’. You don’t know nothin’ bout this Stack.” 

Stack shook his head.

“Anit ‘bout fixin’ what he doin’. It’s ‘bout makin’ sure you good, til he fix what he doin. Makin’ sure you don’t make us drop no bodies cause you anit thinkin’ straight.” He wasn’t laughing wit her. But he was smirking now. Leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely. Even as his jaw jumped. He made himself focus on the other thing she’d said, letting that shit ‘bout not being able to handle her go unacknowledged. For now.

“You anit gotta worry bout me. This anit ‘bout me and Smoke anit puttin’ me six feet no where. Y’know it don’t work like that Annie. I am Smoke. Smoke is me. I’m bouta help my brother keep the best thing that ever happened to him. That ain’t the same as you havin’ some random nigga thinkin’ he can slide up in here and take what anit his.” He suddenly stood, and Annie instinctively took a step back, before remembering who she was and squaring her shoulders. 

“Now, you gone c’mere’ or you gon’ make me come over there?” 

Annie’s voice was more serious the next time she spoke. 

“Stack..” she warned. “Enough of yo games. Go ‘on somewhere–”

He was up on her. Two long strides is all it took to close the distance between them and he had his chest pressed to her titties, stomach flush with hers, one arm locked tight around her waist, before she could even startle. 

Annie’s arms instinctively went to push at him as she breathed, 

“Stack what the– mmmm,”

Her own words trailed off, dying on her tongue, when his other hand gently, but swiftly, tilted her face, and his fat tongue hit her neck. 

“Stop being ungrateful. I’m tryna’ look out.” 

There was no hesitation as he tongued her neck, and Annie’s brain clouded for a moment when he tongued at a particular spot, sucking gently and then harder, when he realized what he’d found on the first try. 

She wasn’t laughing, or sassing him, now. Now, she was being reminded of just how long it’d been since she’d had a man wrapped around her like this. Being reminded of how good it felt. She almost titled her head back to give Stack more room to work, fingers instinctively clenching at the fabric of his shirt – before she remembered this was indeed, Stack sucking on her neck like he had every right and all the time in the world. 

She resumed pushing at the solid frame in front of her. 

“Stack, c’mon now. Stop, hmm, stop playin’.” 

He gave one last hard suck on her spot, before pulling his head back to look at her. She was trying to look stern, lips pressed in a firm line, eyebrows furrowed. But them eyes – them big brown eyes, told it all. His gold caps glinted, hand rubbing at her lower back, right above where all that ass she had on her sat. 

“Who playin?” He licked his lips like he could still taste her skin. “Told you, I’m helpin’. You needa be touched?” His hands were suddenly gripping at her dress, pulling at the blue layers, raising the fabric. “I got chu’ Annie. You anit gotta get niggas killed cause you need some lovin’. I’ll get that anger worked out of ya.” 

Her hands dropped from his chest, down to her dress, pushing the fabric back down whenever he went to pull it up. Once. Twice. Thrice. His movements were lazy, consistent but unrushed, his deep brown eyes glittering with amusement and the beginning sparks of lust. Annie on the other hand, was fighting for her life. 

“Stack, I will put a root on yo’ ass!” The threat didn’t have the intended affect, cause her pupils were blown just a little too wide, nipples poking at her dress just a little to pointedly, voice coming out just a little too breathless. She couldn’t let him get that dress up. One, cause it was Stack and two, cause–

“Gahhh damn. This pussy always dripping like this, or that’s just cause of me?” Between their dance of pushing her dress up and down, one of his slick hands had managed to get underneath the fabric. He anit even waste time toying wit’ her, smoothly working his fingers into her drawers and between her fat, soft lips. Annie gasped, brain short circuiting for a moment as his thick digits slid up and down her vulva, not aiming for anything in particular just yet. Just feelin’ all that wet. Stack smirked sharply. 

“Why y’all women do that? This pussy needy as hell, and you tryna deny her. Mm, mm, mm,” his fingers fluttered over her hole and then slid right back up. Up and down, up and down. “This shit don’ even make no sense. I barely touched you.” He shook his head like it was a shame.

 “Yeah, Smoke fuckin’ up. You got every right to be mad girl. Wet ass pussy like this, you needa’ be taken care of every day. Shit.” The rain falling outside was no match to the fuckin’ tsunami he had his fingers sliding through right now. Stack wanted all that wet in his mouth. Around his fingers. Around his dick. When he got back to the Juke, he and Smoke was gon’ have words, cause that nigga was trippin’, letting all this slip through his fingers. 

Annie’s breath stuttered when his fingers just barely brushed her button, and then left it alone. Like he was teasing her. She choked back a noise that was rising in her throat at the loss, letting go of the useless hold she had on her dress and gripping his wrist instead. She just held it, like she didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or push it back upwards, under her hood where her clit had started to poke. While she contemplated, Stack’s fingers still leisurely explored. He felt her soft curls, her softer lips, that hard clit he was purposefully avoiding, and his mouth watered. Slowly, he worked his fingers back down, ignoring the way her hand tightened on his wrist and positioning his thick digits at her entrance.

“Stack, shit, Elias wait,” At the sound of his real name, Stack paused, eyes jumping back up to meet hers. Annie’s lips were parted, eyes low but still sharp, still working, like she was deciding on something. 

“What? You really ain’ bout to let me give this pussy what she want?” He asked, the playful edge in his voice not really that playful. 

They both felt the way her little hole had started twitching, like it could sense something wanted to enter and was glad to let it in. There was no denyin’ the juices that were running over his fingers and sticking to her thick thighs – no denyin’ the heady scent of her pussy that rested in the air between them, warm and spicy and enticing. 

Annie studied him. Face so much like Elijah’s, but so different – much like their personalities. She bit her lip, turned something over in her head, shook a memory from the past away and then made her decision. 

“If we do this, and you don’t leave this pussy ruined, you will walk outta here with a root on you.” And she halfway meant it. 

This wasn’t ‘bout Smoke, or whatever the hell was wrong wit’ him. Wasn’t ‘bout the past, or even Stack really. This was ‘bout Annie getting hers. After the way she’d been feelin’? She deserved. 

Stack’s head cocked, teeth flashing like a shark who’d just caught the scent of blood. His eyes shined mischievously, a “Be careful what you ask for,” dropping from his lips, like a promise and a warning, right before two thick digits buried themselves to the hilt in Annie’s soft channel. 

Her head fell back immediately, a whimpering, “Oh fuck,” falling from her lips. He was stretchin’ her, that tight pussy of hers locking down on his fingers like it was trying to stop the intrusion and make sure it never left at the same time. 

“Mmmm,” Stack kissed at the column of her throat, trying to pull his fingers out a little and smirking when he couldn’t. “You gotta lighten up. Let me work.” 

Annie wasn’t tryna hear that. 

“Either you know how to break in tight pussy, or you don’t.”

Stack had her laid flat on her kitchen table before she could exhale. Annie gasped, doe eyes bugging impossibly wider as she looked up at Stack. 

He’d yanked his fingers out of her heat, turned her big fine ass around, and laid her out like a Sunday dinner after church. 

“‘Thas’ like the third time you done talked to me like that. Like cause I’m tha’ lil brother, I’m a lil nigga.” He forced her legs open, forced her dress up and out his way, eyeing the damn near translucent gusset of her underwear. “Promise yah Annie, that’ll be tha’ last time you do that.” 

He ripped her drawers off her like they were made of paper, and before Annie could even hiss at the stingin’ feeling it’d left on her thighs, Stack was on his knees, fingers buried back in her tight heat, and tongue deep between her lips. He damn near put his whole face in the pussy and Annie’s hips shot up instinctively, running from that good feeling he suddenly had thrumming through her body. Stack wasn’t trippin’, he just followed. Like a dog with a bone. Flattening his wide tongue and licking through her sticky wetness long and slow, like he was gathering as much of her juice as he could on the way up to her clit. 

And when he got there? 

It was like music to his ears – mo’ beautiful than the blues even – the way she moaned his name. 

“Stack, oh my God.” 

It’d been so long since she had somebody on that spot. 

Stack locked his lips around her bud, eyes peering up at them big heaving titties and that pretty face he could barely see, as he circled his tongue clockwise, then counterclockwise, and back again around her bundle of her nerves. Her mouth was dropped open but her pussy was like a vice around his fat fingers, and this time he anit say nothin’ bout her needing to lighten up. He just forced her open. Just broke her in. He worked his fingers in and out of her gushy walls, fighting back against the tight snap of her hole over and over again. 

“Hmm, oh shiit.” Her eyes closed on their own accord, hands scratching at the table like she was looking for something to ground her. It felt like her pussy was alive the way it was pulsing – the way it was crying. Annie didn’t even know what to do with all the good she was feeling. Hadn’t expected to be seein’ stars like this. For as much as Stack played, he was takin’ this serious. Lapping at her clit like he was scared it would disappear, like he was delirious for her pussy, jaw be damned. On and on it went, licking all the way down to where his fingers were buried. Licking all the way back up to that special spot, and giving it the attention it was askin fo’. 

He let his teeth graze her button and Annie keened, hips finally dropping back on the table with a thud. 

“Fuck, Stack. Do that again.” It was just on the right side of too much. Toeing that line of pleasure and pain that made everything go fuzzy. 

He soothed her clit with his fat tongue, and for once, followed orders. Let his teeth, gold caps and all, graze her bundle of nerves again. And again. And again. Always soothing her in between. Always working his fingers in and out of her center, groaning into the pussy as her juices took over his senses. 

She matched him, groaning louder, hand finding the top of his head, as her hips rose again. Not running. But using. 

“Eat that fuckin pussy Stack. Eat that gushy fuckin pussy. This what I deserve.” 

She anit have to be on his face to ride his tongue. She was guiding him, movin’ his head where she wanted, hips rolling slow as they raised up, then dropping back down fast, lovin’ the way her fat clit felt against his tongue.   

“Ouuu, Stack.” She spit his name out, teeth clenched so hard that if she wasn’t careful, she’d break one. 

“Why are you eating it like that, fuck.” 

Stack fought the hold she had on his head, raising his face up for a second. His twinkling brown eyes looked dark as tar now. His facial hair dripping wit’ her essence. His voice guttural when he said, 

“Cause this how good pussy deserve to be eaten Annie.” 

And then he was back in it. Tongue hitting every spot she had down there. Fingers twisting up inside of her like he was searching for something hidden. Annie’s eyes rolled, body falling back on to the table for good as Stack thrummed her clit with his tongue like he was playin’ guitar. 

She was starting to feel achy down there. In a way that had her pushin’ at his head for him to stop, when what she really needed was for him to keep goin’. And he knew that. Stack brought his free hand up, locking his fingers with hers and keeping her out his way. 

Another boom of thunder sounded outside. Still warning of that flood that would surely be comin’ soon. 

“Stack. S-stack. You eating it too good. I can’t - I can’t–”

But she would. 

Stack lathered her clit in his spit. Pushed his fingers back inside her. Held ‘em there. Angled ‘em down. And then told all that sweet cream to come on, fingers curling up in a come hither motion. 

And Annie? 

Annie almost crossed to the other side before it was her time. 

She screamed, big thighs clamping around his head, stomach tightening viciously for a second and then completely deflating as her pussy gushed, releasing all that pint up juice she’d been holding. 

Stack let her smother him. He anit care. He’d die in the pussy, right between ha’ thick ass thighs if he had to. Long as she got what she needed. Long as it put her head back on straight. Smoke always cleaned up Stack’s messes, Stack was committed to returning the favor. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Stack!” 

Annie flooded his mouth. 

Stack drunk it all. 

Big tongue slurping at her nectar, trying to get up in her hole and get it from the source. He was greedy. And that trait remained firmly intact whether he was chasing money, or eating pussy.

Annie banged her hands on the table, hips turning every which way as Stack sucked her through her orgasm. 

Words fell from her mouth in a language he didn’t understand. He anit have to understand it though, to know she was sayin’ she felt good. 

By the time she was pushing at his head again, her sensitive center actually needed a break. The pussy was quiverin’, it was so overwhelmed. He obliged, pulling his face from between her thighs, lickin’ his lips and shakin’ his head like he hadn’t gotten enough of her. 

“Could bottle that shit and sell it girl. Fuck some herbs,” Stack flexed his jaw as he stood and stepped back, lookin’ down where she laid splayed out on the table. 

His dick was past solid. Hard like his head. And lookin’ at her, dress halfway up her stomach, legs spread wide and still trembling, rich dark skin that he now knew for a fact tasted as sweet as it looked – he was ready to give her what she really needed. Somethin’ to really work that anger out of her, till Smoke got his fuckin’ head on straight. His hands went to his slacks. 

Annie was still tryin’ to catch her breath, eyes still screwed shut, body still in another dimension. That was the type of mouth you did put a root on – just to keep it comin’ back. The tension she had been carryin’ in her body all day – all month damn near, had leaked right out of her body with the rest of the liquid she’d gushed out. Annie felt her lips tug up, head still far in the clouds and body still mostly mush. 

“Guess you don’t got that big ass mouth for no reason,” she teased. 

Stack let out a bark of laughter and she cracked her eyes open. 

 “I anit got this big ass dick for no reason neither.” 

Annie managed to prop herself up on her elbows, eyes dropping from Stack’s smirking face, down to the long thick dick he held in his hands. Annie blinked, her center clenching, like she hadn’t just came five seconds ago. She watched as Stack stroked himself, from root to tip, pearly white drops beading at his mushroom head. Pretty dick for a pretty nigga. She bit her lip, eyes jumping back to his face. 

He smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was salacious. It made her center clench again. 

He stepped forward. 

“Before I give you this,” he stroked his dick, “I wonna’ say sorry.” 

Annie’s brows furrowed. 

“Nigga left all them years ago cause I convinced him to go.”

Annie felt her high fading fast. 

“Stack, I don’t want to–”

“Nah, lemme talk Annie,” he cut her off, taking his last step forward, lettin’ go of himself in favor of grippin’ her hips – pulling them closer to the edge of the table. 

Annie choked in surprise, gasping when Stack’s big hands went to the back of her thighs next, putting them in the air and making her legs fold in on themselves. She felt her pussy spread open, like a flower blossomin’, cause of the new position.

“Stack -”

“Maybe if we wouldn’t of never left, the nigga wouldn’t be actin’ so stupid right now. Shit wouldn’t be strained ‘tween y’all. He feelin’ like he don’t deserve yo forgiveness. Wouldn’t be nun’ to forgive, if he wouldn’t of never left wit’ me.” 

Annie disagreed. But she wasn’t ‘bout to talk about it right now. 

“Stack -”

He slapped his heavy dick down on all that wet, right between where her nether lips had spread, and both of their eyes fluttered. The next time he spoke, his teeth were clenched.

“I’m bouta fuck yah so good you forgive both a’ us,” his accent wrapped thickly around his words, like feeling all that gush against his dick was makin’ him lose it. “Bouta fuck yah so good, you forget all that hurt you was feelin’. Fuck yah so good, you know he sorry, befo’ he even say it. Fuck yah so good you know I’m sorry.” 

Annie was tryin’ to focus on his words, tryin’ to hold his gaze, but he’d started moving his hips as he spoke, sliding his member up and down between her soft folds, nudging her clit with his big head on every pass. Her eyes fluttered again, head dropping, a low “Ouuu”, slipping past her lips.

Stack watched her for a beat, sliding his dick through the mess she was making, once. Twice. Three times more. 

“We so sorry mama.” 

And then he slid in deep. 

Thunder clapped outside.

Annie’s breath left her body, fluttering eyes flying right back open, soft brown orbs gazing up at him like he’d just taken something from her. He bit back a curse, throat working as her tight heat enveloped him. Smoke was fuckin’ crazy.  

Stack gripped at her pillowy thighs – could already tell he was gone be the one that had to keep ‘em in the air – and let his signature smirk take over his face.

“Now what was that you said earlier? Bout how I anit know what to do wit all this? Wit’ you?” He tilted his head like he was thinking. 

“Stack..” Annie breathed, trying to sound stern through her panting. “Don’t go doing too much no-”

“Let’s test that out, Annie. See if you know me, as well as you know magic?” 

He slid out slow, all the way to the tip, making her feel every inch of what was stretching her wide. Annie’s toes flexed in her boots. They weren’t even undressed. She anit have to be naked for Stack to give her what she needed though. And Annie was ‘bout to get exactly that. 

“Sorry ‘bout this too,” he said, shrugging, eyes squinting playfully. “Cause you gon’ feel this shit.” 

Any quick witted response was derailed as a yelp tore from her throat instead. 

Stack had his pelvis pressed firmly against hers, every inch of that dick buried back inside her heat before she could blink.

Deep. 

He was so deep.

She could feel him in her chest where that annoyance had set. Could feel him under her skin, all over, where that irritation had thrummed. Could feel him everywhere, he was so deep.

Stack slid out, slowly like she was somethin’ precious. And then he slammed right back inside, thick length hitting every wall, every corner, every hidden spot in her pussy. And then he did it again. And again. 

Annie’s mouth formed a round O, hands clutching at her dress, thighs trembling in his hold. Stack wasn’t even giving her time to adjust. And it hurt so good.  

He trailed his eyes over her open mouth, her shaking hands. Snapped his hips forward harder.  

“What’s wrong wit’ chu? This what you wanted right? What you needed? What you was ‘bout to run off on my brother to get?” 

His fingers hadn’t done a damn thing to loosen her up. He had to bully her pussy open over and over again, had to force all that tight, to stretch.  It was like it couldn’t make up its mind – the way the pussy was leaking every where, hugging him like it never wanted him to leave one second, and then fighting him the next, tight hole locking back up every time he slid out to the head. 

“Oh my – ugh Stack!” She said his name like she was mad at him. If that was the case, she was only ‘bout to get madder. 

His narrow hips worked, pure bliss coursing through his body as he felt all that good surround his dick. All that slippery nectar. Them gushy walls. He changed his angle a lil bit, and then his eyes narrowed – jaw jumped, when Annie fought his hold on her thighs. Not to run. But to spread her legs wider.  

He was moving in her easier now, all that liquid she was leaking making it possible for him to slide in and out as he pleased. Annie was adjusting. Annie was feeling – none of the bad from this morning. This week. This month. No, Annie was feeling good and Annie was just getting started. 

He’d stroked inside her again, new angle hitting a spot, deep and hidden and one she could never reach on her own. One that had her slamming her feet down on the table, spreading her thighs wide, licking her full lips. 

“Again! Do that agai- ugh yesssss!” 

Stack leaned forward, hands coming down on the table on either side of her frame, gold making an appearance when he smirked down at her. 

“Do what again? This? Do this again?” 

He pulled out, immediately thrusting his hips forward into that soft spot she was talkin’ ‘bout. What felt like raw electricity shot through Annie’s body at the movement. 

“Yesssss, that’s what the fuck I’m talking ‘bout. That’s what I need.”

Stack obliged. Hips moving like the pussy was running away from him. In and out. Always going deep. Always hitting that spot. He watched her closely, lip tucked between his teeth. Tracked the little gasps that left her mouth every time he drove into her. The way her brows furrowed. The way her eyes fluttered. The way she fought to open them back up every time, meeting his stare head on. 

“Ouuuu Stack – my God!”   

Outside the rain kept comin’. In sheets. In droves. Weighing down the branches of trees. Turning dirt into mud. Creatin’ puddles now – and much worse later. Water was needed. To nourish, to clean, to grow. But the rain? The rain was an inconvenience. And it anit care. Still kept comin’. Pitter pattering against the windows. Falling from the sky. Unrelenting. Unforgiving. The Delta would just have to deal. 

Outside lighting flashed. Outside thunder roared. 

Inside? 

Inside, Annie cursed. And Stack cursed back.

“Fuck! Fuck this pussy! Fuck this pussy just like that! Don’ stop, Stack.” 

He grunted, talked right over the loud squelching noises that filled the room, “I anit stoppin’. I’m in this shit. Who can’t handle you? I’m in this shit, girl!” 

Annie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, hips raising to meet his like he wasn’t droppin’ the dick fast enough, “Ouuuu, give me that dick Stack. Give it to me! I wonna feel it in my stomach. I feel it in my stomach!” 

Stack swiveled his hips while he was still buried deep, stirring all that wet. All that juice that was dripping down his dick. “I’m fuckin’ you good? Fuckin’ you how I said I would?” 

Her pussy pulsed in agreement with her, “Ouuu yes, yes, yes. You fuckin’ me so good, don’t stop.”

Stack went from holding himself up by his hands, down to his elbows, getting closer, boxing her in. His lips found that spot on her neck, sucking hard. Mouth came up to her ear, talkin’ shit. 

“Ain’ gon stop. Sayin’ sorry remember? Gotta fuck this good wet ass pussy tell she forgive me.” 

Annie moaned, hands coming up to grip at his strong arms. “She say she anit gone never forgive you. You gotta keep fuckin me, keep fuckin me, oh my god, Stack. I feel it!” 

Stack wanted to laugh at her words. Couldn’t. Cause he felt it too. The way that pussy was tightening up, getting impossibly wetter, jumping around his dick like it couldn’t wait to release something it’d been holding back. 

He swiveled his hips. Stroked her from root to tip and back again at an impossible speed. Fuckin’ into her like he had a point to prove. Like he had a relationship to save. Annie scratched at his arms, then rubbed, like she was soothing the sting. 

He clenched his jaw, feeling her pussy jump again, feeling that tight hole get tighter, “Pussy must be magick. You put some magick in this pussy girl? Huh? This fat pussy got some mutha fuckin magick in it?” 

Annie couldn’t speak. All she could do was whimper. Grip his arms tighter. Leak all over him. Brace herself for what she felt building inside of her. For what she felt about to snap loose. 

Stack pulled out, then slammed in, making Annie cry out in ecstasy. He gritted his teeth. Felt his balls start to tighten.

“All ‘dem years ago, sayin’ you anit want both uh’ us,”

He pulled out, then slammed in. 

“This make me think yah was lyin’ Annie.” 

Pulled out, then slammed in. 

“Cause the way this pussy talkin?” 

Pulled out, then slammed in. 

“Pussy sayin’ you shoulda been let me in.” 

He brought his face right above hers, roamed his eyes over all that pretty. All that strength. All that perfect. 

He pulled out again. 

“Pussy sayin’ she ‘ont ever want me leave Annie!” 

Then slammed in. 

Annie shattered. And Stack stilled, mushroom head pressed right into that gushy spot, unmoving, even as the rush of liquid that erupted from her pussy tried to force him out. 

“Oh my – Oh my – Elias – STACKKKK!” 

She wasn’t cumming. She was flooding. Pussy raining down on Stack, not unlike the rain outside. 

Pleasure. That’s what she felt. So consuming it ran from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. It overwhelmed her. Annie ran for the first time, thighs trying to snap close, hips trying to jerk back, trying to get him to lay off that spot before she passed out. 

Stack anit care. Stayed on her. Stayed pressed into her even as his knees went a little weak at the feel of her walls choking his length. Her wet surrounding him. 

“Stop runnin’ from what you need,” he slid his arm between them, forced one thigh back open. “Jus’ take it. Get all that bad energy up out ya’.” 

Annie didn’t have no choice. She came tell her ears were ringing, tell her breath left her body, tell she didn’t even know what bad energy he was talking ‘bout. 

And Stack watched, head tilting almost in wander, eyes raking over her face like he’d never seen a prettier picture. His dick jerked just lookin’ at her, and his eyes snapped shut, willing himself not to nut. 

Annie was trying to get air back into her lungs, walls squeezing around Stack again – not on purpose, just on instinct, and it was enough to make him lose it.

“Shit,” he cursed, eyes still closed tight like that was the only thing keeping him sane. “You good if I move?” 

She blamed him. For how good he’d just made her feel. Blamed Smoke. For how long it’d been since he’d touched her. Blamed them both for what came out her mouth next, eyes cracking open slowly, voice coming out breathy, taunting.  

“You good if you move? Look tense. Can’t handle a little pussy? The little brother got little stamina?” 

His eyes flew open. Shock and indignation both clouding those dark orbs. He’d just fucked life back into her. They both knew it. And still Annie pushed. Because if he could give it? She wanted more. Honestly, who knew when she’d get loved down like this again? She was bein’ greedy, takin’ as much as she could while it was offered. She deserved to be greedy. 

Stack blinked above her, less focused on his urge to cum now, and more surprised by how much of a brat Annie was being. He’d never pegged her as that. Stack shook his head. Hell, maybe she normally wasn’t, but knowin’ how Smoke was actin’, it’d probably been good and long since she had the attitude fucked outta her. 

He watched her, watch him, and saw that gleam in her eyes. Like she couldn’t wait for his response – like she was hungry for it.

“You got a greedy pussy Annie,”  he pushed himself up, stood upright again between her spread thighs.

 So greedy you really need two niggas takin’ care of you on the regular.

Stack forced that thought out his head. Cause this shit wasn’t ‘bout him. It was ‘bout her and his dumbass brother. 

“You wanted more? Jus’ say that. Ain’ gotta hurt a nigga feelings. You know I’m sensitive, girl.” His tone was light. Too light.

“You want more? Say it.” Their eyes met, his prompting hers to speak, refusing to move until she did. 

She opened her mouth to do just that, to tell him what she wanted and how she wanted it. 

Stack never gave her the chance. Sliding out and proceeding to show her just how long his stamina could really be. 

They weren’t working out Annie’s built up pressure anymore. That had already been done. Now, they were just fucking. Rough, and nasty, and loud. The table was shaking, their voices were cracking, and the storm outside didn’t have shit on what was brewing between them. 

One second he had her by the hips, had the lower half of her body damn near in the air and was pulling that pussy up to him every time he fucked into her. 

“Pussy so fuckin’ good. This what you wanted? You gone take it then. Gone take all this dick tell yo’ ass can’t walk straight!” 

The next, she was flat on the table, moaning filth in his ear while he pressed his weight into her, digging deep in her guts. 

“Ouuuu I love that dick Elias. Love the way you fucking this pussy. You love this pussy? This pussy good?” 

They went back and forth. She matched him stroke for stroke, word for word, pushing when he pulled and pulling when he pushed. 

Strings of cream clung to his dick, pooled at his base. Her pussy was loud, talking like it wanted to join the conversation. He was fucking the love and light back into her. She was making him lose his goddamn mind. 

By the time they were approaching their peaks, they were nose to nose, bodies moving like they had a mind of their own. Annie’s hands gripping at his back, his arms, everywhere she could reach – eyes squeezed tight in bliss. Stack cupped her face, forced his brown orbs to stay open, to stay locked on her, as he panted in time with her breaths. 

The rain kept coming down outside. Fast, and loud, and dangerous. 

“I’m bout to cum Elias! Stack I’m bout to - it feel like so much – Elias!” 

“I feel it girl, I feel it – fuck! Me too, Annie, fuck!” 

If he wasn’t pinning her down, she would have levitated. 

If she was his, he would have shot his seed as deep as he could. Woulda hoped it took. 

They came in unison, the tension in their bodies snapping. Annie cried out loudly, core clamping down, rivers of that essence that made both Moore men crazy, pouring out of her sweet center. Stack cursed, yanking his hips out and up just in time, cumming so hard he would have collapsed if he wasn’t already damn near laid flat on top of her. His eyes shut on their own accord, stars appearing behind his closed lids. 

“Shit Annie!” 

Rain was funny sometimes. It could choose to wreck havoc – cause floods, displace homes, come down long enough and hard enough to drown entire communities if it so pleased. And…it could also choose to storm a little and then stop. Outside, the downpour lightened to a drizzle, seemingly out of nowhere. Inconsistent drops – light, unrushed, harmless. There would be some mess to clean up – the rain never left anything completely in tact – but it seemed the Delta had lucked out this time. The damage wouldn’t be irreparable. 

Inside Annie’s kitchen? 

There were no guarantees of such luck. 

The two caught their breath, gradually coming down from the peak they’d reached. And Elias felt wrong. Hot. Itchy. Like he was too big for his clothes. He frowned a little, not liking the discomfort. Not understandin’ where it was comin’ from. 

He opened his eyes. Damn near lost his breath again when he was faced with Annie’s searching gaze. Neither spoke. Until she did. 

“‘Lias?” 

He swallowed. Didn’t really know what was being asked. Knew and just didn’t know how to answer. How she wanted him to respond. Elias felt like a boy again. Elias felt like he wanted to fall into Annie and get the fuck away from her at the same time. Elias remembered his brother, remembered that he’d done this for him. For them – Smoke and Annie. 

Stack is who responded to her, smirk on his lips, eyes squinting, gold caps shining. 

“Annie.” He tilted his head playfully, made his tone light, kept it light, even when her eyes narrowed. “Surprised you can still talk. I worked all that attitude out huh?” He laughed. “I know I did. Now you and that big head nigga can work y’all shit out – no outside parties needed, girl.” 

“Elias–”

“And you anit gotta thank me, it was my pleasure, trust.” Stack winked. “Now lemme clean you up so I can get back down to this juke and talk to this nigga.” He let his dimple pop, ignored the look in her brown eyes. “Wouldn’t want all this to be for nothin’ right?” 

Annie watched him. For so long he damn near broke out into a sweat. And then she nodded. Slow. Reluctant. But she gave it to him. Let him run. “Right. Wouldn’t want this to be for nothing.” His dimple popped harder, smirk grew wider. Too wide. Forced. Uncomfortable. 

He let his eyes scan her face one more time - quick but thorough.

Nodded to himself. To her. 

“Right.”

♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎

So, Hi again! Omg y’all - that poor table. Lol if you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyedddd! Not gone lie, this was supposed to end on a much lighter note. And then, it just didn’t lol. I had a lot of fun exploring this and figuring out a circumstance where Annie and Stack would happen though, especially with Smoke on the same earth, anddd this what I came up with. Anyways, don’t know if I’ll be writing anything else. I would like to, cause this was fun, but I’m not gone force it. I just had to get this out my head before I went crazy! Let me know what you think if you feel so inclinedddd 🫶🏾🧡

[dykeforhire]

The Neighbor

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

Emily Prentiss has a new neighbor… unbeknownst to her, they can see directly into her bedroom from their window…

Warnings: smut, voyeurism (slight stalking if you think about it)

Word count: 9k (SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

Available on ao3

Masterlist

Taglist: @chestnutninny @maximoffwitch

Placing the last of the moving box contents on the shelf in your living room, you let out a sigh. It had been a stressful week.

Moving into a new apartment, in a new city, and starting a new job was not for the weak of heart. You cut the taped seams of the box, folded it up, and placed it in a neat pile with the other disregarded cardboard slabs.

Trudging into your shiny kitchen, you reached for the fresh bottle of wine on the counter and cracked it open. Pouring yourself a decent helping of the flaxen liquid before plopping onto the couch. With another sigh, you stretched over to the side table and picked up the TV remote. Flipping through Netflix for a while before deciding on a true crime series. You settled in against the couch cushion and pressed play.

The sun had just begun to set and the open blinds were letting an orange tint fall over the carpet in streaks. You had to admit this apartment was much nicer than any you’ve had before. Only thanks to your new job, of course.

Before you knew it, the series credits were rolling and the apartment was overtaken by the cover of night, the only illumination in the room being your TV and a small candle on the counter.

You got off the couch and made your way towards the bedroom, grabbing a pair of loose boxers, and a t-shirt from the dresser, throwing your hair up into a knot before heading into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The feeling of near-scalding water was an instant relief to your strained muscles, all the heavy lifting you’ve done the past few days causing quite a tension in your back.

Once you were out of the shower and feeling refreshed, you applied your usual skincare regime, then slathered your body in its entirety with your favorite lotion. You pulled the tie from your hair and shook it out, attempting to tame the mess it had made of itself.

Once satisfied, you sauntered back out to the living room. Blowing out the candle that was still burning and crossed the room, sights set on closing the blinds for the night.

But once you reached the large floor-to-ceiling window, something else beyond caught your eye.

The building you had moved into was built in a sort of ‘U’ shape. Your apartment, being on the inner side of the building, gave you a direct view of the small courtyard below. It also gave you a direct view of the neighboring apartments on the other side of the courtyard.

The yard itself couldn’t be more than 50 feet across, and that just so happened to be the perfect distance to gaze directly into your neighbor's window.

You gripped the pull chord, but your breath caught in your throat upon realizing what you were looking at.

It was a woman, tall and svelte. And from what you could see, insanely beautiful. Her long, dark silver hair shone in the luminance from the bedside lamp she had just switched on. She was almost fully nude, aside from the black panties and bralette adorning her ample bosom.

Looking a bit past her, you noticed another figure come into view.

It was, or at least you thought it was, an older gentleman. But when they pulled their shirt off, you were met with a surprising pair of breasts.

An elder butch?? Nice. You shook away the subconscious thought.

You continued watching as the pair latched onto each other, the taller woman running her long fingers through the short locks of the latter while their lips locked with a fiery passion. They fell onto the mattress, femme straddling the butch’s lap.

You felt a pang deep in your belly, knocking you back into reality.

A rush of guilt ran over you as you turned away from the window, averting your gaze from the vulgar scene. You had never been into the act of voyeurism before, especially in this capacity.

But something was stirring within you at the thought of watching more. Another pang hitting your core at the thought of watching your beautiful neighbor take her partner’s fingers in earnest.

Against your better judgment, you looked through the blinds again. Biting your lip you took in the scene once more.

The femme had begun kissing down her partner's chest, the muscles in her back bending and flexing beneath the skin.

An unforeseen moan left your throat as the woman took a nipple into her mouth. Your hand shot up to your mouth in surprise but soon began tracing the skin of it as you became enamored by the view.

The woman had been flipped over and was now on the receiving end of her partner’s ministrations. A thick hand covers the woman’s clothed center, her head rolling backward as she ground into her partner's palm.

You couldn’t help but reach down and press against your own underwear. The fabric, already damp with the heat and intensity of your arousal. Pushing the leg-band to the side, you ran a finger through your slit. A bit astonished by the amount of arousal that has accumulated.

You continued watching as your neighbor’s actions grew more lewd by the minute. Tongues against mouth and skin, fingers touching in areas you never should have seen. But still, you couldn’t peel yourself away from the window.

That is until the long-haired woman fell backward, her head nearly hanging off the end of the bed as the other woman began dragging her tongue down her torso and towards her center. Her eyes seemed to look directly at you as she gasped at the contact of her lover's tongue.

Your stomach immediately dropped and you jumped away from the window, pulling your hand out from your boxers. The embarrassment and guilt began filling your cheeks with a hot flush.

You waited a moment before peeking out the window again, making sure you were in the clear to exit. To your surprise, her curtains had been shut. You felt slightly disappointed, but the overwhelming concern for your sanity soon sealed that.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you went back to the bathroom to clean yourself up before flopping into your bed and letting sleep slowly consume you.

…

Over the next few days, you had been hyper-aware of your surroundings whilst leaving the building for work. You were petrified by the thought of running into the beautiful woman who’d inevitably caught you watching her personal affairs through the window.

Luckily enough, the past week has been very successful.

You hadn’t seen her at all, not even through the window, and you were hoping that you never would.

But today you weren’t so lucky.

It had been a stressful day at the office, and all you wanted was to relax in your apartment. You’d ordered some Chinese takeout and had gone down to the foyer to retrieve it.

Just as you were about to pay the man, a flash of metallic hair came through the entrance.

Your heart nearly dropped out of your ass as you made eye contact with the silver fox. Her deep brown irises practically melt you into a pile of nothing.

What made it even worse was the stupid smirk she wore as she held your gaze while walking past. The scent of her musky perfume and cigarettes trailing close behind.

She was taller than you thought she’d be, just a few inches more than you, also taking into account the heeled boots she wore. She was dressed in a blood-red silk blouse, black wide-legged trousers, and a matching blazer that hung in the bend of her elbow.

“Ma’am?” The delivery driver interrupted.

“I- sorry… here...” You handed him a twenty and turned around to head reluctantly towards the elevator.

You hoped that you wouldn’t be stuck in there with her, but of course, as you rounded the corner… her hand flung out and stopped the closing door, holding it open for you.

You sighed, wishing that some greater force would just take you out right then and there.

“Thanks…” you spoke sheepishly, avoiding her eyes as she smiled at you. You reached past her to press your floor number but quickly realized she lived on the same floor.

“Same floor, huh?” She questioned, her voice husky. You felt a tickle in your belly at the tone.

“Seems like it, aha…” You replied, still avoiding her gaze and leaning against the wall.

She mirrored your position on the opposite side. You could feel her eyes on you and it made your anxiety skyrocket, but it also made you feel some other type of way.

I wonder if she actually knows it was me… or is it just my brain playing tricks on me? You thought to yourself.

“That smells good. Whatcha get?” She asks, and you finally manage to look up at her. Her eyes were already locked on you as she chewed her gum with a smile.

“Oh, just some chicken and lo mein.” You gave her a tight smile then bit your bottom lip. She only hummed in response, but you caught how her eyes fell to your mouth at the action. You couldn’t help but blush and subsequently dip your head in avoidance of her gaze once again.

“How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” Her tone was a bit softer now, questioning.

“I moved in just over a week ago, actually… so I haven’t had much time for things other than unpacking and work.” you swung the take-out bag back and forth idly, trying to distract yourself from the inappropriate memories of the woman attempting to resurface.

“I see, how’s unpacking coming?” The bell signifying that you’ve reached the floor chimed.

“It’s coming... Work keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” You chuckled halfheartedly to yourself, stepping through the elevator doors and pausing to wait for her, nervously.

“I completely understand… Well, if you ever need help with that or anything else I’m in 63B… or...” She smirks, pulling a card from her purse and passing it to you. “Here’s my contact info.”

You hesitantly reached out to take it, somewhat dumbfounded that she had her very own business cards. Upon inspecting it further, you noticed something even more intimidating.

“Huh, I would not have pegged you as FBI… Emily Prentiss?” you looked up at her, quirking a brow.

“There are a lot of things you wouldn’t peg about me…” She quipped, tilting her head in question to signify you give her your name as well.

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n.” you answered, smiling softly.

“Well it was lovely to meet you Y/n, although I must get going.. wouldn’t want you to be eating cold food, right?” She chuckled, and you blushed at her kind comment.

“Nice to meet you as well. Have a good night!” You smiled, giving her a shy wave before starting towards the direction of your apartment.

“You too, hon… Oh, and Y/n?” you spun around at the call of your name. “Next time you wanna watch… just give me a call.” she waved her finger at the card that was still in your hand and smiled devilishly.

You stood there, watching, mouth agape in shock as she spun around laughing, and began striding towards her apartment.

My god, this woman will be the death of me.

…

After finally managing to calm yourself down enough to eat without choking, you figured a little binge-watching on the couch with a bowl of ice cream would make for a wonderful end to your rather eventful night.

Curled up against a throw pillow, with a chilled bowl of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s on your blanket-covered lap, you pressed play on your most recently watched series.

Once the bowl was finished and long forgotten on the side table, you scooted over the cushions to lay down and pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes eventually grew heavy, blinking slower and slower, inevitably letting the angels of slumber take you under.

Until, of course, the phone buzzed loudly on the pillow next to you. You groaned, reaching for it and squinting at the brightness of the screen.

Unknown number?

With a slightly confused expression, you unlocked the phone and opened the message.

“Hey stranger… open your blinds.”

Uh oh.

Somehow, you were now more awake than you had been all day. Sitting up, you began typing with shaky hands.

“How did you get my number?”

“Did you forget my line of work already, baby?” a shudder ran through you at the pet name.

“So I see… and what if I don’t?” The courage you had over text was almost laughable in comparison to what you had felt in the elevator.

“Just do it.” The excitement thrumming inside your chest threatened to burst at the demand.

That being said, you stood up and padded over to the window. Grabbing the lift chord between your thumb and index, you took a deep breath before quickly pulling it.

Upon raising your eyes to her apartment, you let out a gasp. There she was, Emily Prentiss in all her magnificent glory.

She had pulled a chair over to the window and was sitting cross-legged, draped in a silk robe. A similar shade as the blouse she had on earlier that day. Her silver hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing her face in a seductive shadow. And even with the distance between windows, you could tell she was wearing that devious smirk.

You watched as her gaze fell towards the phone in her lap, she picked it up and began typing.

“Do you like what you see, Y/n?”

“Yes.” you let out a shaky breath as you looked back out the window.

She placed the phone on the table next to the chair and placed her hands in her lap. She began pulling at the ties of her robe, letting them fall to the side.

You felt your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat at the sight.

Her slender fingers trailed over the folded neckline, before dipping beneath and pulling it open, bringing the black lace teddy she wore underneath into view.

You thought you might drop dead at that very moment. The oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts you had on were a bit embarrassing in contrast. But alas, you were too engrossed in Emily’s teasing to care all that much.

Her hands ran down the length of her torso and down to her toned thighs, slowly spreading them apart. Your knees felt weak, and your palms sweaty. You wanted nothing more than to spread those legs with your own hands, letting yourself fall in between them to taste her.

A flush spread through you at the thought, chest and cheeks growing rosey.

She raised her left hand, running through her hair and flipping it to one side. The latter continued its journey back up her torso, toying with the bits of lace at the edge of her top.

With a slackened jaw, you stepped backward and sat on the edge of the couch, mirroring her position. And with a burst of courage, you picked up the phone again, hesitating a bit before finally deciding to press the call button.

It only rang once before the older woman answered.

“Mm.. that was bold.” She purred, her eyes aimed directly at you through the window.

“I wanna hear you...” Your voice was soft and breathy, the arousal seeping into your ability to control it.

“Hear me what?” She quirked a brow.

“I want to hear it when you touch yourself.”

“Oh, you do? And what makes you think I’m gonna touch myself?” Her tone was condescending, but you watched as she scooted forward in the seat, leaning back against the chair.

“I’ll do it if you do.” Your breathing was slightly labored, the excitement in your chest causing a chill to run through your body.

“Hmm, that does sound like a good deal…” she paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. “Take off that shirt for me, Angel.” She whispered seductively into the microphone.

You whimpered, your sex ache with desire and begging for some sort of relief.

“Yes ma’am.” You quickly placed the phone on the arm of the couch and began pulling the large shirt over your head, tossing it behind you carelessly. Emily hummed in response to your eagerness.

“So eager to please… I love it.” Her voice is like velvet in your ears, pulling another soft noise from your throat. You sat with attention, hands placed patiently in your lap, awaiting further instruction.

“Play with your nipples for me, baby. Nice and slow.”

Without hesitation you brought your fingers to your mouth, wetting the tips with a swipe of your tongue, then dragging them over an already stiffened bud. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, holding back the noises threatening to escape.

“Good girl… so pretty, on display for everyone to see, but so needy for me.” Her eyes blackened as they watched you touch yourself. You couldn’t hold back the soft groan as you pinched your nipple, pulling it lightly before switching to the other side and doing the same.

Emily let out a soft moan, her free hand began to trail down her torso again. She squeezed at her own thighs, spreading them open further.

“Can I see yours, too?” You sounded almost innocent in asking, but the way you burned and ached for her was nowhere near it.

“Say please.”

“Please… let me see you, Emily.” Your voice came out almost like a whine. She smiled, pressing the speaker button on the phone before placing it back on the side table.

You watched as she shrugged the silk robe off and brought her nimble fingers up to the straps of her teddy, looping around the fabric and slowly tugging them down.

You were practically panting like a dog as she revealed the freckled flesh at an agonizing pace.

Once the hem was low enough, her breasts fell out of the cups with ease. Dusky nipples on full display and standing proudly.

You bite your lip to stifle the scream of excitement you so badly want to release.

Emily chuckles softly, bringing her hands up to squeeze at the heavy flesh of her breasts. She throws her chin up and smiles brightly.

“Jesus, Emily…” you sigh, running a hand over your hair to pull the damp strands away from your face, then sliding the same hand back down to your chest.

Then, to test the waters, you drug your nails down the softness of your stomach, dancing over the waistband of your shorts and lower to cup your covered center.

“You’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand it.” You desperately laughed, brows furrowed and thighs squeezing together for some semblance of relief.

“Watch that hand, Y/n…” Her voice was deep and you couldn’t help but release an audible groan, fussing at the idea of waiting.

“Impatient, are we?” She folded her arms across her bare chest, you hmphed at the loss. “Because I will gladly end this call right now.”

Immediately you corrected your position, folding your hands in your lap.

“That’s what I thought… wouldn’t want that now, right?”

“No, ma’am. Just tell me what you want me to do. Anything, please.” She was amused by your begging, letting out a low chuckle at the desperation in your voice.

“Take those shorts off and spread your legs.” The demand was abrupt, and it caused your pulse to jump. You sat in silence for a moment, she noticed your hesitation.

“What? Haven’t got panties on?” She smirked, and you cowered your head in a hot flush.

“No, I don’t…” You looked back up at her through the glass and smiled innocently.

She bit her lip, seemingly in thought, while also trailing her eyes over your mostly naked body. She tittered to herself, looking down at her lap, before looking up again.

“I’d say, if you had panties on, we could continue this little voyeur session. But… I think I’d rather see that pretty pussy of yours up close and personal. Not through a window.” You couldn’t help but shy again, her dirty compliment causing another pang of arousal to hit you.

“Are you saying I should come over, Prentiss?” You couldn’t help the smirk that crawled onto your face at the suggestion.

“Hmm… may-be.” She tilted her head and smiled, crossing her legs.

“Give me five minutes.” You smiled at her and picked up the phone, hanging it up. You shot her a wave as you got up from the couch, throwing your shirt back on before walking away from the window.

Making your way into the bathroom, you placed your palms on the countertop and sighed, leaning against it. Looking up at the mirror, you took note of your flushed cheeks, red and glazed.

You gave yourself a quick once-over, making sure to put on a little extra deodorant and spritzing some of your favorite perfume before splashing some cold water on your face.

Walking into your bedroom, you grab a pair of discarded sweatpants and pull them on over your shorts before step into a pair of slippers, grabbing your keys and phone before rushing out the front door.

You practically sprinted through the halls, nearly losing a shoe in the process. Your heart was racing with exertion and anticipation as you searched for her apartment number.

When you finally reach her door, you stand there for a moment. Hunched over with your hands on your knees, taking a deep breath. You raised a shaky hand to knock on the door but before you could, it was flung open and Emily’s figure stood in front of you.

“Hey, stranger.” She smirked, her scent suddenly overwhelming your senses once again. It reminded you of a gust of cold night air mixed with cigarettes and a rich cologne. Which would prove quite accurate once she stepped aside, inviting you in, noticing the open window and an ashtray still smoking on the windowsill.

“Hey…” You gave her a shy bow of your head, and stepped forward through the door, brushing against her warm, silk-covered chest as you did so.

You smiled proudly to yourself, shocked that you’ve managed to get this far with such a magnificent woman.

Placing your keys and phone on the table next to the door, you took a deep breath to ground yourself.

Hearing the door click shut, you spun around to face her. Immediately, you’re met with her strong hands gripping your hips and pulling you in, then pushing you over to and up against the nearest wall.

Her face was mere inches away from yours, close enough for you to feel her breath ghosting at your lips. She smirked again, her blackened irises twinkling in the low light, thumbs pressing into your hip bones causing you to let out a hmph.

“You know, Y/n… I have been dying to get my hands on you ever since I caught you watching me...” She gave you a once over, leaning in close to your ear and nipping at the lobe. “hands in your pants.. playing with yourself like I was some porno…” She moaned against your neck and you shivered, the closeness becoming all too much.

“Fuck Emily…” Your knees almost gave out when you felt her place a few sloppy kisses on the sensitive underside of your jaw.

Her mouth was so warm and wet, and when she began dragging her tongue from your collarbone up to your ear, the sounds you almost let out could’ve been called in as a noise complaint. Instead, you choked out a soft gasp, bringing your hands up to grasp at her shoulders.

Emily rasped out a chuckle, the vibrations hitting you like a truck. Every sense and nerve ending in your body kicked into top-gear.

“So responsive and I haven’t even touched you yet.” She pulled back and whispered against your lips.

“Well you should…please.” Your voice was barely audible, your eyes heavy as they looked up at her through your lashes.

Emily groaned and pressed herself against you, crashing your lips together. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her impossibly closer. Her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, running over your stomach before squeezing your waist, urging your hips to roll into hers. You couldn’t help but to moan at the sensation.

And Emily, being the opportunist she is, used that moment to slip her tongue into your open mouth. You graciously welcomed the wet muscle, closing your lips around it and sucking gently. She hummed, pulling back to continue with her assault of open mouth kisses on your neck.

You let your head roll back, allowing her more access as her teeth scraped against the skin before biting down and sucking a bruise into it.

Your hand ran up the back of her neck, tangling your fingers in her nape and tugging at it gently in an attempt to bring her mouth back to yours.

But Emily had other plans.

“Let's go to the bedroom before I have to carry you there myself.” She smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, pulling your arms from behind her and taking your hand in her own.

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded with a near comical enthusiasm. She beamed at your excitement, laughing to herself quietly before dragging you down the hall to her room.

As you passed through the halls, you took in the decor. Walls, covered in pictures of friends and coworkers. A majority of the pictures were a bit old, as she had striking black hair and a baby face, as well as bangs in some. And very very pretty, you might add. The aesthetic of the apartment was overall romantically dark, with lots of black, red, and other warm-toned colors. She had a plethora of lamps and candles lit, adding a sensual ambiance.

“It’s so pretty in here, smells nice… you smell so nice.” You giggled, practically fawning over the woman. The arousal that had been rushing to your head putting you in some sort of giggly daze.

“You’re sweet, thank you… you smell very nice too.” She craned her neck to smile at you, causing another giggle to erupt from your chest as you blushed.

You admired her form in front of you. The sway of her hips underneath the silk, her toned legs, the beautiful, multi-tone silver hair that cascaded so gracefully past her shoulders. You looked down at the hand that was intertwined with yours. Her fingers, long and slightly aged with a few prominent veins twisting from her knuckles to her wrist, as well as one thicker vein that travelled up the back of her forearm.

“I like your hands.” You blurted out, blushing, a bit embarrassed after the fact.

“You’re about to love my hands, baby.” She quipped, and you flushed even harder. Emily chuckled again, pushing the bedroom door open. You followed in behind the woman eagerly, excitement rising like bile in your throat.

Her bedroom was a bit warmer than the rest of the apartment, and it smelt the most like her out of all the other rooms you’d been in. Her large mattress was dressed simply, with two pairs of pillows and a thick, bohemian patterned comforter. The room was kept neat, not a single stray item of clothing to be seen. There was also a faint humming of what sounded like jazz playing from an older-looking sound system in the corner.

Before you can take in your surroundings further, Emily is pressing you down onto the mattress and her body, climbing over you. Your hands immediately attach to her thighs, climbing up towards the apex as she straddles your hips. She runs a hand through her hair, flipping it to the side before leaning down to connect your lips with a smile.

It’s slow and sloppy and she groans against your mouth when you tightly squeeze the muscle of her upper thigh. Her hands slide under your shirt, nails gently scratching at your stomach before sliding upward, coming to a stop over your breasts and squeezing. You gasp, brows furrowing at the contact. Savoring the way her fingers circle over your nipples before pinching them between her index and middle fingers.

You find Emily’s mouth again, pressing your tongue past her lips to roll against hers. Her mouth tasted like bitter cigarettes and a hint of mouthwash, assuming she took a swig before you arrived. You wanted to taste her forever.

Gaining a bit of confidence, you begin moving your hands up a bit further, brushing your thumbs over her hips, then towards her pelvis. The muscles in her abdomen flutter beneath your fingertips at the touch. She puffs out a breath and presses further into you.

Emily pulls her hands out from beneath your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your bare chest, the rush of cold air causing the buds to stiffen. She runs her palms over them, you arch into her touch.

Her kisses start to leave your mouth, trailing over your cheeks, down the sides of your neck, over your collarbones, and finally to your chest. She smiles against your skin before taking your nipple between her teeth and tugging it gently.

Moaning aloud at the sharpness of her teeth, your head falls back against the duvet. Pulling a hand away from her thighs, you bury it at the base of her head, holding her tight against you.

“Sh-it, Emily…” you pant, raising up to look down at her, but quickly falling back when her eyes lock with yours as she begins trailing lower on your torso.

You quickly pull your shirt the rest of the way off and Emily giggles against the skin of your belly, kissing, biting, marking. She lets her hair fall like a curtain around her face, the strands tickling you as she descends.

With a final nip directly below your belly button, she peels herself out from your vice-like grip, sliding off your lap and kneeling on the mattress.

You watch as she begins untying her robe, letting it fall off her shoulders and tossing it across the room. You sit up on your elbows, taking in the curves of her body up close.

“May I?” You nod towards her chest.

“I suppose…” she smirks, placing her hands on the bed behind her and leaning back, pushing her already ample chest out. You couldn’t help but stare in awe.

Rolling onto your stomach then matching her position on your knees, you reach out, curling your fingers around the edge of her top and pulling the lace down, letting her breasts spill out.

You hum to yourself, palming the heavy tissue before diving in to place wet kisses over the soft skin. You looked up to watch her face as it screwed into a lust-blown expression while watching your mouth envelope her.

Her skin tasted bittersweet against your tongue, and it was utterly addicting. You wrap your arms around her torso, holding her tight and burying your face between the valley of her breasts, pecking and sucking the pale skin. You could feel Emily’s breath fanning over your face, cooling the flush on your cheeks.

She let out a soft hum, her head lulling to the side as you sucked a nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the bud before biting into it gently. She lets out a yelp of surprise, hand grasping at the back of your head.

You smiled against her before craning your neck up to kiss her again. She opens her mouth, inviting your tongue in with a faint disparity.

Flinging a leg over her hip and settling into her lap, you urged her back against the pillows, mouths still locked together. Your hands pressed against her chest, squeezing as she pulled you up.

“You’re a really good kisser.” You whisper against her lips between sloppy kisses, the saliva beginning to spread across your chin and philtrum. Her hands grip your ass through your sweatpants, pulling your pelvis into her.

“Mm, so are you…” her nails rake up your nude sides, before wrapping tightly around your breasts.

“Oh-” you break the kiss, gasping at the roughness of her touch.

“I love your tits…” you cut her off with an urgent kiss, taking her soft, wet, bottom lip between yours sensually. She pulls back, “so pretty-” you cut her off once again, taking her top lip between yours this time.

“Just shut up and keep touching me” your hands grip her desperately below her ears. “Please…”

Emily groans before forcefully suctioning her mouth to yours, tongues tangling against each other.

You began to roll your hips into her, grinding slowly against the softness of her thigh. She grips at your hips, lifting and pulling you down onto her harder.

You let out a pitchy moan that she immediately swallowed. Her hands slip lower, gripping your ass through the fabric of your sweatpants.

“Take your pants off.” You could feel her smile into the kiss, and you hummed against her.

“How about you take them off?” You gave her a quick peck before climbing off her lap, falling backwards on the mattress with a giggle.

She smiled at you, raising up on her knees before running her palms from your shins to your thighs, giving them a squeeze before dipping into your waistband and pulling it down.

Once the pants were completely discarded, Emily placed your legs over her shoulders, holding eye contact as she pressed chaste kisses on the inside of your calves. Baring her teeth against the flesh before biting into it.

You let out a moan at the sharpness, but the pain was quickly soothed when she ran her tongue over the mark.

She began moving further up your legs, leaving kisses along their length. Her hands then drove up the back of your thighs, pressing them up and open.

You whine and your body tenses up as her teeth dig into the sensitive skin on the back of your thighs, hands flying out to hold on to the duvet as your hips raise towards her. She chuckles at your deplorable neediness.

“God.. please.” You release your grip on the bed and move to grasp at her arms as they wrap around your legs, fingertips grazing against the waistband of your shorts.

“I am definitely not God.” Emily humphs, sucking a hickey into your inner thigh, licking over it before turning her head and doing the same on the other side.

“Certainly feels like it…” you pant, running your hand through her hair before balling it up in your fist and tugging it gently. She croons, pulling away from your thighs and crawling up your torso.

You groan at the loss of contact, but quickly quiet down when her mouth attaches to your nipple and her pelvis grinds against your center, still covered by the thin shorts.

“Oh-” your mouth falls open at the pressure, releasing a silent moan.

Emily then wraps her arms around your torso and sits back on her heels, pulling you up into her lap once again. Your thighs squeeze around her hips, and your arms loop around her neck, one hand buried in the back of her head while the other grips the skin of her shoulder.

“I want you.” You pant against her open mouth. She moans against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling it softly.

The room has grown sweltering, and the faint saxophone mingling with the sound of your mixed breaths only thickens the atmosphere.

You feel her hand as it slides from its spot on your waist down past the curve of your ass. You’re practically trembling when her fingers begin to slip past the hem of your shorts.

Her eyes lock with yours when she finally makes contact with your drenched core, watching you. You shudder as her fingers glide through your slit, drawing teasing circles in the slick.

Your head falls against her shoulder with a gasp when she nudges your clit, hips immediately sputtering into a sloppy rhythm. You whimper against the skin of her neck, suckling gently to stifle the uninhibited noises escaping from your throat.

The intensity of it was almost too much. You didn’t realize just how strongly you wanted this until now.

Drenched, whining and moaning against the hot neck of your very attractive neighbor, who just so happens to be employed by The FBI (making her inherently hotter), while she plays with your pussy as you straddle her lap.

God those fingers are good. Too good.

So fucking good you can feel yourself rapidly approaching orgasm and she’s hardly even fucked you yet.

“Put your fingers inside me… want you to feel it when I cum for you-OH!” You cry out as she slips two of those delicious fingers easily inside. Rubbing oh-so-sweetly against the spongy spot just past your opening.

“So fucking wet.. so needy. How close are you, baby? Gonna cum for me?” Emily’s voice is deep but soft against your ear, and you shiver at the brush of her lips against the cartilage.

“Mhm, so close.. I need more.” She hums again, sliding her hand out from behind you and slipping it past the waistband in the front of your shorts.

Her fingers dip down and collect the wetness from your slit, dragging it up to your swollen bud, circling it with a practiced ease.

You're panting hard against her neck, practically humping her hand like a feral dog as she plays with you. You bite into her shoulder with a groan when she slips her fingers back inside you from the new angle

“Emily- oh my god. Keep going.” You chant, leaning back in her grip and bouncing slightly on her hand.

“That’s so fucking hot, keep riding my fingers, baby.” Emily's eyes are wide, watching your body move with intent. Her mouth hangs open slightly, lips swollen and glistening.

Your whines grow louder when she begins thrusting into you as your hips fall back down on her lap, her palm pressing against your clit.

The knot in your belly is growing by the second now, and you know it’ll only be a short while before you're practically seizing against her.

“M’gonna cum…” you pant, breathless and clenching a fist in her hair while the other claws at her back.

“Cum for me, baby… fuck you feel so good.” Emily practically moans, kissing the junction of your neck and shoulder as her free hand moves to pinch at your nipple.

“Fuckfuckfuck… oh, Emily-” your body tenses up, thighs quivering as the quaking force of an orgasm hits you.

You let out quick and breathy moans as your hips stutter against Emily’s stilled hand, fucking the remainder of your orgasm out little by little.

Emily’s tongue darts out to lap up the beads of sweat that have begun collecting over your collar bones. She then moves up the flushed skin of your neck, placing gentle kisses over the marks she left.

“You’re gonna have fun covering those up…” She chuckles, kissing up your jaw and over your cheek.

You whip your head around to give her a ridiculous look, something like shock, but also not surprised because you were practically begging for it.

You definitely did not mind being marked by her, in fact it gave you material to think about when you’d inevitably go home and jerk off to just thoughts of her.

“You’re ridiculous…” you lean in to kiss her, slowly sucking on her bottom lip before tilting your head and opening up for her tongue to slide in.

When she slips her fingers out from your still sensitive sex, a moan falls from your lips and into her awaiting mouth.

You pull away, looking over her perfect face, watching as places her wet digits into her mouth. Hollowing her cheeks and sucking your arousal from them.

Your mouth falls open, you could probably cum again just from watching her do that.

But when she brought the same fingers up to your mouth, smearing the wet mixture over your lips and chin before leaning in to kiss you once again, you thought you might die.

The string of saliva that hung between you and Emily was disgustingly hot. So hot in fact, that you just had to take her hand in your own and bring those beautiful fingers back up to suck them clean yourself.

“Mm, shit…” she grinned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

You twirled your tongue slowly between her fingers, savoring the taste of her spit mixed with your own arousal. Closing your lips around the digits, you bobbed your head, taking them as deep in your mouth as you could without gagging.

Emily watched you with an impressed face, chuckling to herself with a quirked brow as you repeated the movement over a few more times.

You pulled her fingers from your mouth with a pop and kissed the tips before tilting your head down and looking up at her through your lashes.

“You were right about me loving your hands.” You sheepishly giggle, slouching against her body and wrapping your arms around her shoulders again.

“I certainly was.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning back, pulling you down against the pillows with her.

You smile down at her with the new position, arms braced on each side of her head while your bottom settles over her stomach.

“And what about mine, hm? Do you think you’ll looove my hands, too?” You smiled teasingly, dipping down to kiss her. Placing a few chaste pecks before Emily deepened the kiss, flicking her tongue against your upper lip. Her hands rise up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer so that your chest pressed against hers.

“Mm, why don’t we put them to the test and find out?” She murmured against your open mouth.

“I like that idea.” You gave her a final deep, wet kiss and pulled away, trailing your lips down to her neck.

Nipping at the soft skin of her throat, you raised yourself off her hips, moving backwards and shoving her legs open with your own so you could settle between them.

“I think it’s time this stupid thing comes off.” You drone, pulling the lace teddy down her torso, leaving gentle kisses on each patch of skin revealed.

“You loved it.” Emily said frankly, raising her head to watch as you peel the fabric away from her skin.

“Mmm…I so did.” You groan, nipping at the softness of her lower belly, causing her to yelp and twitch against you. You smiled, placing a kiss over the spot.

Sitting up, you ran your palms over Emily’s smooth thighs, taking in her flushed state in front of you. Cheeks glazed, hair mused, covered in the marks of your passion. She watches you expectantly, eyes dark and fingers toying with the skin of her lip.

Your eyes drift down to her pelvis that sat in front of yours.

You couldn’t help but notice the arousal that had begun seeping through the lace over her center. With a hum and a bite of your lip, you brought your hand down to her pubic bone, resting your fingers on the covered mound while your thumb brushed over the sticky fabric.

Emily grumbled, spreading her legs further and digging her heels into your ass.

“So wet…” you raise the thumb to your mouth, sucking it in and groaning as you absorb the piquant flavor of Emily’s arousal. Making sure to look her in the eye as you do so. She hums, eyes glinting with excitement.

“I think I know what I wanna do next…” you give her a sharp smile before moving to tug the lace down her legs. Emily lets out an almost youthful giggle, shrieking as you forcefully yank the fabric from her body.

“And what might that be, y/n?” Emily questions sarcastically, sitting up on her elbows.

“You’ll see…” You kiss her knees and shins as you scoot even further down the mattress, flattening out on your belly.

You wrap an arm around her thigh, maneuvering it so Emily’s calf would rest on your shoulder. The other roams up towards her torso, giving her breast a squeeze before tweaking her nipple.

Emily groans, bringing a hand down to your hair, attempting to push your face against her.

“Patience, Chief.” you tsk, pinching her inner thigh.

“You make it so hard, saying things like that.” Emily whines, head falling back in anguish and her fingers tugging at your scalp.

You can’t help but smile up at her from between the columns of her thighs, placing an open mouth kiss on the dewy skin at the apex of her inner thigh.

Her scent is beginning to cloud your ability to think in proper terms. Heady and warm, heat is practically radiating from her sex. You place a gentle kiss on each side of her labia, she lets out a breathy moan.

Before you can get carried away with your mouth, you pull back. Admiring the beauty of her before gliding your thumb through the glistening slit, spreading her folds like a beautiful flower covered in morning dew.

“So pretty..” you whisper, placing a kiss atop the patch of trimmed hair and then another directly over her slit.

Emily moved to sit up again, reveling in the sight of you worshiping her pussy. Her hand ran through your hair, bunching it into a sloppy almost-ponytail.

“Stop teasing.” There’s a sternness in her voice that you simply cannot deny. You bring your middle and index fingers up to your mouth, dipping them inside and pulling them out. Looking up to Emily’s face, you place the moistened pads over her swollen bud. She hisses when you start moving in slow circles, pressing hard then softer with each loop.

The hand in your hair begins pulling tighter, inhaling a sharp breath as the sting becomes more painful.

“More.” Emily huffs, loosening her grip and smoothing the ruffled mess of your hair down.

“You’re gonna have to ask nicely…” your tone is condescending and give her another evil grin before placing more wet kisses on her thighs.

“I want your mouth… please” Emily grumbled, becoming increasingly impatient.

“There ya go… miss big shot, too proud to beg for me to eat her out.” You murmur that last bit before licking a broad stripe over her slit.

Her body arches into your touch, the same hand gripping at your scalp once again as she lets out a breath.

“Oh, I’ll beg. You just have to work for it…” her sentence trails off as you close your lips around her clit, sucking on it gently.

You take turns switching between licking and sucking on her pussy, studying all the little things that make her body tick. Every little tweak and touch that makes her hair stand, prickling to attention.

Emily begins letting out a steady stream of soft moans, panting as her head lulls back and raises up again.

“fingers.. please.” Her eyes are pleading when she looks down at you again.

You hum against her, pressing your middle and index finger against her opening. Dipping in slightly before pressing them in all the way. Your eyes are intent on her face as you turn your fingers over, curling up against her pubic bone.

Emily nods swiftly, closing her eyes and letting the pleasure consume her.

Your tongue continues its lazy circles over her clit as your fingers begin pumping inside of her. Curling upward each time your knuckles bottom out against her.

Emily’s breaths were ragged as she arched her back, grinding against your mouth and hand. Her chest is flushed, and the thin sheen of sweat between her breasts has begun to bead.

“Harder…” the older woman huffs.

You raise up slightly, bringing your knees under you for leverage, pulling your fingers all the way out before pounding them into her once again.

Emily wails a high pitched moan, her fist so tight against your scalp you can feel hairs being plucked from their follicles.

She looks down at you again, slack jawed. Her lips have chapped from all the panting, and her heavy, half-lidded eyes struggle to remain locked on you.

“Fuck, you’re so good…” Emily’s voice has lost its usual rasp, opting for a more high pitched and needy tone. “Kiss me.” She whimpers, curling herself closer to you while also tugging on your head.

You can feel her pussy clench around your fingers in the new position. The curve in her belly, forcing her insides to constrict.

You lick into Emily’s mouth, breathing in her chants of pleasure as you use your knee for leverage, fucking into her with stupifying force and pace.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck-” Emily’s blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your back, tearing red streaks into the flesh, her face scrunched in concentration.

You’re panting against her lips, pressing your forehead against her and putting every ounce of stamina you could muster into bringing this godess of a woman to orgasm.

“Fuck, y/n baby.. gonna cum.” Emily whines, her hands sliding back up to your head and pulling you into a passionate kiss. She whimpers into your mouth with each strong pump of your fingers, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

The lewd sounds of your ministrations fill the room, the wetness of her cunt, splattering over the duvet as well as your arm and leg.

“You look so pretty.. taking me so well.” You murmur, palm grinding over her clit. Emily lets out a groan and you can feel her thighs begin to tremble.

She pulls you back in, burying her face in your sweaty neck, biting into the skin and wrapping her legs around you tight as she topples over the edge.

Her moans are breathy and quiet, almost cries as she twitches with the shocks of her orgasm in your grasp. Her inner walls clamp down on your fingers and hold them in place while you work her clit gently with your thumb.

Emily’s bites against your neck turn into sloppy kisses and kitten licks as she comes back down to earth, grip loosening but unmoving from the closeness.

“I think we found our answer.” She pants out a laugh, letting her head fall back against the pillows.

“I think we did.” You chuckle in return, collapsing beside her and resting your head atop of her shoulder. Slipping out her gently, you bring your soiled fingers up to your mouth. Letting the divine taste of her orgasm sink into your tastebuds.

Emily tilts her head to watch, giving you a lazy smile before swatting your hand away and pressing her lips against yours, tasting herself.

She pulls away with a satisfied sigh, letting her limbs fall haphazardly to the bed, but keeping the arm behind your back snug around your shoulder.

She twirls your hair mindlessly as she catches her breath, you inhale the scent of her skin.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” Emily blurts out, you laugh against her collarbone.

“Could I bum one?” You tilt your head to her with a hopeful gaze.

“Only if you ask nicely.” She mocks, turning to you with a jeering expression.

“Please…” you place a few pecks on her neck. “oh please, chief Prentiss,” you kiss her hard on the cheek. “may I bum a cigarette from you?” You give her your best puppy dog eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute. It’s very hard to resist.” She smiles, her dimples on full display.

You lean in, placing a gentle kiss to her bottom lip.

“Not so bad yourself, Chief.” You wink, sitting up and turning your body towards her.

“Oh, cut that out.” Emily swats at your thigh, a bashful glow creeping up her cheeks.

You move to roll out of the bed and Emily follows, picking her discarded robe from the floor and throwing it on, not bothering to tie it.

She pads over to the closet, pulling out a matching robe from the rack and tossing it at you. She buckles over in laughter when it hits you square in the face.

“You think you’re sooo funny.” You gave her a deadpan look, putting a hand on your hip after you secured the silk over your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m hilarious.” Emily grins, walking past you and waving for you to follow her out the bedroom door. And you followed just like a puppy does its mother.

Entering the living area, Emily plops herself into the chair by the cracked windows. Grabbing the open pack of cigarettes, placing one in her mouth and lighting it up.

She looks over at your form, standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

She pats her lap, signaling for you to take a seat on her knee. You immediately beam, prancing over and plopping yourself down on her.

Emily chuckles to herself, grabbing another cigarette and placing it against your awaiting lips. She leans in, pressing the glowing end of hers against yours, lighting it.

That might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and you literally just fucked this woman silly.

“Hot.” You plainly state. Emily smiles, taking a drag and blowing it up into the air.

And there you sat, comfortably curled up in the lap of your gorgeous older neighbor, after being deliciously fucked, smoking one of her cigarettes.

Quite possibly the greatest night of your life.

…

[sturnsdarling]

Birthdays in Boston

A prequel to 'I don''t know how to forget you', and the full story behind the photo of matt and y/n on the fridge

vibe check: WHOLESOME VIBES, bestfriends to FWB to idiots in love Au. smut throughout (its worth being patient for it trust me), shower stuff (handjob/fingering), birthday sex, matt the much, squirting (its her bday she deserves it), daddy kink, fluffy matt and y/n moments, just all round good vibes dude

9k words

A/N: this was so much fun to write I LOVE THEM UGH. I could write a thousand stories about them honestly its just so wholesome. I know it takes a lil while to get smutty but i wanted to build tension and was honestly enjoying writing wholesome vibes lol also its literally my story so if you dont like it, kick rocks. anyways i hope you guys love his as much as i do

love and cigs, merc

"you guys are actually insane, you're not paying for a plane ticket for me to go home for my birthday" you rolled your eyes, legs tucked under you on the boys' sofa.

"why not? we'd come with you obviously" Nick said, his head leaning on your shoulder as he peered up at you.

"because it's so much money, are you crazy?" you replied.

"kid, you're being silly, we're doing it." Chris rolled his eyes, taking his phone out his pocket and pulling up flights.

"no, Chris" you launched yourself forward, attempting to grab his phone out his hand.

Chris stretched backwards, holding his phone out as far away from you as possible whilst trying to finish his purchase.

"Matt, grab her" Chris laughed, holding you back with his free hand.

You're frantically trying to get his phone from Chris' hand when Matt stands up off the sofa, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off Chris with ease. You flailed about in his arms but his grip didn't waver. He chuckled at your attempts to free yourself from his grip.

"Chris, i'm so serious, don't buy those fuckin' tickets" you near enough screamed, still trying to escape Matts arms.

You threw yourself forward, arms stretched out and matt immediately pinned them to your side. Nick was laid down on the sofa, too comfy to move from when he fell off your shoulder, belly laughing at the sight of you frantically trying to overpower Matt.

"Done." Chris said, turning his phone round to show you the confirmation page for the flights.

Your body went limp in Matts arms and he dropped you to your feet.

"you guys are the worst" you sulked, Matt brought a large hand to your hair, soothing down the tangled mess that had occurred from your altercation.

"shut up, kid, you deserve it" Matt said from behind you just before picking you up and spinning you round, "Boston birthdays!" he drew out his last word, singing it as you giggled in his arms.

"Boston birthdays!" Chris and Nick joined in from the sofa, cheesing at the sight of you, your head hung back on its hinge as a giant smile crept its way onto your faux sulk ridden features.

The plane ride back to Boston was a tiring one,

you spent basically the whole journey asleep on Matts shoulder, his blue fresh love hoodie on and a half read book open in your lap. Justin picked you all up from the airport and brought you to the boys house, the car ride through Boston was weirdly nostalgic, you hadn't been home in a couple months and the feeling of being back in your city, with all your favourite people in one place for your 21st birthday was enough to fill you with an overwhelming sense of joy.

"Can you not just feel the 'og-ness', y/n/n" Chris peered round to you in the back seat, the whole car chuckling at Chris' favourite and very made up word.

"Chris, what does that even mean" Nick laughed, looking up from his phone.

"Its just the vibe, man, this kid gets it" Chris said, referring to you, "you get it, right y/n/n?"

You let out a breathy laugh through your nose, grinning at Chris, "yes, Chris, I can feel the og-ness"

"OG-NESS" Chris screamed, hanging his head out the window like a dog.

"kid, get your head back in the car" Justin said from the drivers seat, yanking Chris in by his hoodie.

"you're actually ridiculous" Matt shook his head, stretching his arm out behind you, his hand toying with a stray piece of your soft hair.

"He just feels the vibes, Matt, don't you feel the vibes?" you turned to look at him, your tone somewhat sarcastic as you batted your eyelashes at him.

A smirk filled his features as he peered over at you, eyes flitting down to your mouth and back up to meet your gaze again, "yeah, I feel the vibes"

The tension between you both was thick, and you weren't the only ones who felt it. Justin was watching the entire interaction from the review mirror, a knowing smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at Matt, biting your lip slightly and tearing your eyes from his.

After a short drive,

you guys were pulling into the boys house. Justin pulled into the driveway and Mary-lou, Jimmy and your mum were all outside the front of the house, smiles plastered over their faces as you all piled out of the car.

You squealed at the sight of your mother, fumbling out the car and racing over to her. She opened her arms instantly, catching you as your threw yourself into her.

"Hi, flower" she spoke into your hair, your arms crushing around her head as you pulled her into you

"Hi, mum" you replied, "god, I missed you so much" you nestled into the hug.

The boys were getting all of your bags out the car, Chris was already in his mothers arms, wrapped round her like a baby and Nick was racing ahead, running through the front door to find Trevor.

Justin and Matt were by the boot, Matt pulled your suitcase out and put it on the floor just before Justin slammed the boot shut. They picked up the bags and began to walk up to the house.

"so, whats going on with you and y/n" Justin said, slightly under his breath to his little brother.

Matts eyes widened slightly and he shot his gaze over to Justin, "what're you talkin' about?"

"come on, kid, I saw your little interaction in the back seat" Justin scoffed

"I dunno what you're on about" Matt shrugged, trying to fight the smile forming on his face, "there's nothin' going on with us"

Justin rolled his eyes and nodded, "right, sure there isn't"

You were all piled into the living room,

All the parents on one couch, you, Matt and Chris on another and Justin and Nick tucked up with Trevor on the smallest one. You sat like that for hours, talking about everything from childhood memories to LA stories, you told the boys' parents about college, and how you had found the perfect apartment off campus that was only ten minutes from the boys' house. You loved nights like this, where everyone was all in one place, talking about nothing and everything, tucked under Matts arm and your legs spread out over Chris'.

"whats up, fuckers" Nates voice boomed from the entry way.

everyone turned to see him standing in the doorframe, no-one questioning the fact that he had let himself in the house.

"oh shit, sorry y'all, didn't see y'there" Nate said, eyes wide as his hand flew over his mouth, gesturing to the parents all laughing and shaking their head at his entrance.

"NATE!" you screamed, pushing yourself up from your place on the couch and bounding over to him.

"was' up, trouble" Nate said, catching you in a warm hug, pulling you off the ground slightly.

"dude I haven't seen you in months, how have you been?" you pulled away from the hug.

"m'good man, just hangin' out and missin' y'all" Nate nodded, you both walked over to everyone on the sofas.

"whats up, kid" Nate said, laughing as Chris jumped into his arms, both Nick and Matt joining in on the hug, all of them hanging off each other as if it had been years since they'd seen each other.

Chris finally released his grip on Nate, letting him walk over to your guys' parents and give his 'hello' hugs and dapping up Justin. Everyone returned to their prior spots, Matt slumped down onto the couch and Chris sat on the other end, you thumped yourself down on top them, laying your head on Matts lap and your legs over Chris'. Nate lifted your legs up and planted himself between the boys, placing your legs back over him and Chris.

"so, what're we doin' for your birthday, kid" Nate tapped your leg.

"honestly, I don't wanna do anything" you shook your head "I jus' wanna be here with you guys and hang out, just like this" you looked around at the room, filled with everyone you loved, a warm feeling washing over you as Matt looked down at you.

"nah, we have to do something, it's your 21st" Matt said, his brows furrowing as he stared down at you

"I've never really cared about my birthday though, you know that" you replied, slightly awed at how handsome Matt looked from your position on his lap.

"Let me and Mary-lou make a dinner, at least? we can make that pie you love" your mum said from the other sofa.

"ugh, yes, please lets do that, you two in the kitchen is an unstoppable duo and the only thing I want for my birthday" you groaned, craning your head round to look at your mum and Mary-lou

"It's decided then, we'll have a big family dinner" Jimmy said, smacking his hands down on his knees and getting up, "I'll go get the groceries now"

Once Jimmy left to get groceries, everyone disbursed.

Nick, Nate and Chris all went up stairs to play fortnight, and your mum went home after suspiciously hiding in the kitchen to plan what her and Mary-lou were going to make for your meal. Matt and Justin went on a short pokemon-go hunt up the road, saying something about a shiny and sprinting out the house. You had gone out into the garden, telling everyone you wanted to catch the sunset from the hammock that was strung up between two giant trees.

You were laying in the net, swinging slightly as you stared off into the orange sunset, colours of pink and yellow illuminated the whole sky, the view from the top of the hill the boys' house was situated on giving you a near perfect view of the Boston skyline as the sun ducked behind it.

"Hey" Matts voice softly interrupted your solace.

You turned to look at him as he walked over to you, a giant smile engulfing your features at the sight of him.

"hey" you said, staring up at him as he rocked the edge of the hammock, "d'you wanna watch the sunset with me?"

"mhm" Matt nodded, "scooch up, pretty girl" he said, clumsily getting in the hammock and pulling you into him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and rested his chin on your head, rubbing small circles over your skin as you both swayed in the warm Boston breeze.

"thankyou, for doing this" you said, turning up to face him.

"doing what?" he smiled down at you

"bringing me home, I don't realise how much I miss it until I'm back" you said, turning back to face the skyline but quickly returning your gaze to Matts soft features, the orange light making his eyes shine as he smiled down at you.

"of course, anything for our best girl" Matt ruffled your hair in his fingers.

"I know its lame but, I really do feel the og-ness" you chuckled, quoting Chris from earlier.

Matt erupted into laughter, "kids really got a way with words" he said, refereing to Chris.

You laughed in response, your giggles making Matt laugh even more as he watched you throw your head back. Your laughter subsided and you settled into each other, watching the sun go down as you swayed in the tiny hammock. For a short moment, Matt let himself forget that you weren't actually together, eyes flitting over your soft profile as you stared off into the distance, taking in the view and simply relishing in the feeling of being home. You could feel his eyes on you, and turned to face him, blinking at him like a cat.

"what?" you smiled, a red colour dusting your cheeks.

"oh, nothin' you're jus-" Matt cut himself off, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "you're jus' really pretty"

You rolled your eyes and smiled, swatting his chest slightly. He caught your hand, bringing it to his face and planting a kiss on your palm. He placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch as you shifted closer to him. He let his eyes wander to your glossy lips, and you pulled at him slightly, edging his face closer to yours. Just as your lips brushed over each others, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

"Matt, y/n/n, dinners ready" Justin said from the back door.

You both quickly drew away from each other, Matt turned to look over his shoulder at Justin and you perched up with a hand on his chest. You looked at each other and not so gracefully got out of the hammock, you walking a little ahead of Matt and brushing past Justin with a smile. Matt was just a bit behind you, eyes fixated on your figure as you sauntered through the house.

"nothin' going on my ass" Justin muttered, grabbing Matt by the shoulder as he walked past him.

Matt just laughed and shook his head, pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek and turning to look at his brother sheepishly.

"don't worry, kid, your guys' little secret is safe w'me" Justin whispered just before walking off into the kitchen.

The next morning,

everyone was at the boys' house, you ended up staying the night in Nicks room after hours of chatting about anything and everything. Your mum had showed up early hours of that morning, wanting to be there when you woke up. Everyone had crept into Nicks bedroom, all holding balloons and gifts for you as they quietly shuffled and squished up at the end of his bed. You were dead asleep, hugging Nicks pillow as you felt the bed shift slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with everyone; your mum, Mary-lou, Jimmy, the boys and Justin all cheesing at you from the end of the bed

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY" they all shouted in unison, Chris popped a confetti popper and Matt blew air into his party blower.

You laughed, covering your face with your hands as Nick clicked the film camera, the flash of light hurting your still sleepy eyes.

Your mum came forward, leaning on the bed and giving you a tight hug, "happy birthday, my sweet"

"thanks mum" you smiled into the hug.

Your mum pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead. Everyone came forward one by one, giving you loving hugs and soft happy birthdays. The boys were last, and in perfect unison, they all jumped on top of you.

"BIRTHDAY BUNDLE" Nick screamed as a belly laugh erupted from your throat.

They all piled on top of you, squishing you beneath their weight as they laughed like little kids. You were giggling uncontrollably, nearly winded from their weight but consumed by laughter.

"I remember birthday bundles, you guys used to do that every year when you were little" Mary-lou said, chuckling to herself at the sight of her kids piled on top of you.

"Its a tradition" Chris said from beneath Matt, shifting where he was slightly to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"you guys are insane" you chuckled as the boys got off you one by one, "thank you" you smiled, looking at the room full of everyone you loved and feeling utterly grateful for their existence.

"okay, get up and shower, we're going shopping" Nick said, dragging you out his bed.

"shopping? why?" you questioned, stretching the tiredness out of your bones

"because, dumbass, its your birthday" he said, stating the obvious

you let out a breathy laugh through your nose and shook your head, "okay" you said as everyone piled out the room.

The shower water ran down your back,

the warmth soothing your skin as you tipped your head back, letting the water run over your face and down through your hair. There was a sudden cold waft of air in the steamy room and the sensation pulled you from your blissful moment. You ran your hands over your face, getting the water out of your eyes as you fluttered them open. You were met with a grinning, naked Matt standing in front of you, before you could open your mouth to be shocked, his hand was wrapped around your mouth, his finger coming to his mouth to shush you.

"shhh, pretty girl, s'only me" he said, moving his hand from your mouth and wrapping it round the side of your jaw.

"Matt? what're yo-" your questioning was cut off by him pulling your lips to his, he kissed you feverishly, his hand snaking round to the base of your spine to pull your wet body into him.

Your hands found his face immediately, returning the kiss as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, the warmth a welcomed sensation as your tongue pressed against his.

Matt broke the kiss, leaving you aching for more as he turned you both round so he was under the warm water for a moment.

"what're you doing in here? what if someone catches us?" You whispered, hands raking down his bare chest.

"no ones gonna catch us, sweetheart, everyone's downstairs" he said, pressing you into the cold tiles and bringing your mouth to his again.

You whimpered into the kiss, the feeling of his warm, completely bare and wet skin pressed against yours quickly igniting a desperate ache in you.

"mphm" Matt grunted as you moved your hand down to palm at his painfully hard cock, "not being able to kiss you for twenty four hours has been agony" he broke the kiss before quickly crashing his lips back into yours.

You chuckled at Matts desperation as his kiss became increasingly needy at the sensation of you pumping your hand up and down his length. He was near enough fucking into your fist, thumbs pressed hard into your cheeks as his tongue sloppily moved against yours.

The heat from the water mixed with your growing arousal made you both feel slightly lightheaded. Matt trailed a hand down your torso, palming softly over your tit before snaking his hand down between your legs. He found your puffy clit and rubbed slow, soft circles over it, just before gliding his ring finger through your folds, your sticky wetness covering his finger as he moved back up your pussy, using your juices as lubricant over your clit.

You bit down on Matts lip with a whimper, your grip tightening around his cock as you involuntarily bucked your hips into Matts fingers. Matt grunted into your mouth, the sting of his lip coupled with your tight grip around his length only serving to make him more desperate. He slid his long fingers through your folds once more, slipping two digits inside you with ease as you clenched around him,, your head rolling back into the tile as he curled his fingers inside of you.

Matt broke the kiss to trail wet, hot kissed down your neck, still fucking into your closed fist, completely reeling at the sensation of your hand around him.

Matt groaned as you began to turn your wrist, rubbing your thumb up and over his leaking tip, "fuck, princess, you're gonna make me cum if you keep doin' that" he breathed onto your wet skin.

"cum all over my hand, please, Matt" you moaned, the steady pace of his fingers making your back arch off the cold tile behind you.

Matt moaned at your words, "you first, birthday girl" he said as he pulled his fingers from you, using his soaked fingers to rub blissful circles over your throbbing clit.

You couldn't help the guttural moan that left your throat and Matt chuckled, bringing the hand on your cheek to your mouth, "shh, pretty girl, you don't want them to hear us, do you?" he smiled, his pace on your clit never wavering.

You shook your head, pleading eyes pouring into Matts as he worked your clit, ducking his head back down to nip and suck on your neck, soothing every sting of his teeth with the warm flat of his tongue. You pumped his dick impossibly fast as you chased your own orgasm, rolling your hips into Matts hand as your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. Only Matt would be able to make you feel this good with such a simple act.

You whimpered into his palm, the skin of his hand muffling your cries as you came, your whole body shaking as you tried to keep yourself upright. The sight of you cumming all over his hand sent Matt over the edge and soon enough, his hips were stuttering against your hand. With his eyes clenched shut and his forehead against your shoulder, Matt released sticky, warm cum all over your fist. You continued to work his length as he slowed his pace on your clit, movements sloppy from his orgasm and the sensation of you using his cum as lube to pump him.

Matts whole body shook against yours as he let out a soft chuckle into your skin, watching you in complete awe as you brought your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean of his cum.

"you're insane" Matt smiled, shaking his head before kissing you feverishly.

You kissed him back before pulling away, shifting slightly to stand under the warm water once more. You leant down to get the shampoo from the side, squeezing it into your hand and rubbing it through your hair.

"here, birthday girl, lemme do it for you" Matt said, replacing your hands with his as he worked the foam through your hair.

Your eyes closed at the massaging touch of Matts hands against your scalp, your head relaxing into his touch as you let out low satisfied hums. Matt did your whole shower routine for you, conditioning your hair, exfoliating your skin with the rough side of the sponge before going back over the way he came with the soft side. He treated you like you were royalty and he was your servant, peppering tender kisses all over your wet skin as he bathed you, whispering sweet praises in your ears about how beautiful you looked or how soft your skin was.

Once you were clean, he stepped out the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before holding a hand out to you and helping you step out onto the cold tile floor. He reached for the fluffy white towel and wrapped it round you, bringing you into a tight bear hug.

"happy birthday, pretty girl" he said, placing a loving kiss into the top of your wet hair.

"Thankyou, Matty" you cheesed up and him and he cringed at the old nickname.

"don't make that face! I used to call you 'Matty' all the time when we were little" you said, looking up at him with your chin rested on his chest.

"yeah, when we were little it was cute, now it just makes me feel weird" He chuckled scrunching his face up at you.

"well, I like it, so" you drew out your 'o', smiling cheekily up at Matt.

"you can have twenty four hours of calling me Matty, only because it's your birthday, and then you can go back to calling me daddy" Matt smirked, raising his brows and brushing his lips over yours.

"i've literally never called you daddy in the history of ever" you smiled, laughing into his parted lips.

"maybe you should start" he said in a low, seductive tone, pressing a kiss on your lips.

"In your dreams, Matty" you said, kissing him back with a smile etched on your lips.

The rest of your day was spent shopping with Nick,

It was the perfect day. You and Nick went to all your favourite thrift spots in Boston, spending the whole day talking about how ‘they just don’t do it like this in LA’ and complaining about west coast prices. Nick took you to your favourite lunch restaurant, a hidden gem in your home down and you guys spent hours chatting about nothing and everything. Even though you begged him not to, he told the staff that it was your birthday and your pancakes came out with sparklers and a song. You, obviously, wanted the ground to swallow you whole as the entire restaurant sung happy birthday to you, but the look on Nicks face from behind his phone made all the embarrassment worth it.

You and Matt spent the whole day texting, as usual, and he was nothing other than loving and attentive. Every thrift find you weren’t sure of he was there to give you his opinions, every selfie you and Nick took was sent straight to him along with photos of the city that really ‘captured the og-ness’.

Little did you know, the whole time you were out shopping and sending silly photos to Matt, he was helping set up your surprise back at the boys’ house.

Everyone had come over to help out; Mary-Lou and your mum were a dream team in the kitchen, making more food than anyone would ever need as the boys put up all the decorations in the back garden. There were party hats, streamers, balloons and a giant vintage style cake with your name sprawled across it in big pink letters.

Just before the sun was starting to set, you and Nick decided to make your way home. Nick sneakily messaged the family group chat and let everyone know you were both en route, just in case they needed to add any finishing touches before you arrived.

When the uber pulled up, you were completely none the wiser.

You and Nick waded into the house, both excited to show everyone what you had got but were met with an empty home.

“where is everyone?” you said, brows furrowed as you dropped your bags to the floor

Nick pretended to be as confused as you were, hoping you couldn’t hear the music that was blaring from the back garden.

“that’s so weird” Nick said in faux confusion, “maybe they’re outside?” he said, pointing to the back door.

“maybe” you said, nodding as you began to walk towards the garden, the music slowly coming into your senses as the confusion you felt grew.

Nick pulled out his phone, walking slowly behind you as you pushed down on the back door handle, stepping out into the garden, eyes on the floor.

“SURPRISE” everyone yelled in unison, party poppers going off as the sound of party horns rattled through your skull.

Your head shot up, and you were met with the boys' entire family and your mum, all clad in party hats and standing in front of a massive banner hanging from tree to tree with "happy birthday" sprawled across it.

An intense feeling of pure joy engulfed your body. A giant smile spread across your face as tears welled in your eyes. The entire garden was filled with balloons, streamers hung from the trees and an entire table filled with food. Your 'feel good' spotify playlist was blasting from a speaker that Justin had set up, 'Home' by Good Neighbours making the grass rumble with the bass as everyone came running up to you, all engulfing you in a giant hug, leaving you squished in the middle of them.

The air was filled with laughter, everyone jumping and screaming happy birthday over and over again, spinning and pulling you back and forth into tight, loving hugs. You couldn't help but well up, feeling completely overwhelmed by all the love you felt. You never cared about your birthday, but in this moment, you knew that you had an army of people who did, who cared about your birthday, who cared about you, more than anything.

The laughter subsided and your playlist began to rifle through songs, all your favourites playing and filling the garden with an energy that could only be described as you.

"how did you guys have time to do all of this?" you cheesed, looking around the garden and wiping the small tears from your eyes.

"It was the plan all along" Matt shrugged, his eyes trained on your glowing features.

"why do you think I kept you out the house all day?" Nick asked, putting his phone in his pocket and looping his arm round your shoulder.

"this is actually insane" you shook your head in disbelief, "is this my playlist?" you said, clocking the familiar music.

"that was my idea" Chris said, grinning at you like a proud kid.

You couldn't stop smiling, you took a moment to look around at everyone, taking in the fact that you were home, and you were spending your birthday with everyone you loved.

"you guys are incredible" you said, locking eyes with Matt, who was already looking at you.

"you deserve the world, flower" you mum came up to you, wrapping a warm arm around your waist as you pulled her into you close.

You spent the rest of the evening eating, laughing and having the best time.

Everyone was dancing about, the boys were making up silly routines that made your stomach ache with laughter as you keeled over on the grass, a drink in your hand and a plate of birthday cake on the floor beside you.

Matt came forward, slightly out of breath from the intense routine that Chris had forced him to join in on and held out a hand to you, pulling you up from the ground with a smile. Within seconds, his shoulder was at your stomach and you were hanging upside down over his back. He leapt out into a full sprint around the garden, your giggles filling the air and only serving to make him run faster. He was chanting happy birthday over and over again, singing the tune with a grin spread across his face. When he reached his brothers once more, he placed you down onto the grass, catching you by the waist as you nearly stacked it from lightheadedness.

You couldn't stop your laughter, it being echoed by everyone around you.

"guys, smile!" Nick said, a few feet away from you and Matt with his camera to his eye.

You both turned to face him, Matt shifted to stand behind you slightly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing his face close to yours with bared teeth, acting as if he was going to bite your ear with a wide smile. Your hands found Matts arms, gripping onto him as you squeezed your eyes shut, baring your teeth in a cheesy grin. The camera shutter went off and Nick giggled at the two of you, running off to take more photos of everyone.

Your hands didn't leave Matt, you caressed him gently as he dropped his smile and pressed a long kiss into your hair. You pushed into his touch, finally dropping your hands from his arms and turning to face him.

"thank you, for all of this" You said, absentmindedly taking Matts hand in yours loosely.

"It wasn't all me" he smiled, linking his fingers with yours.

"no I know, but, I know it was your idea" Your eyes poured into his as he fought his smile, you were right.

"it might have been" Matt gazed down at you, fighting every inclination to kiss you.

"you're ridiculous, you know that?" You shook your head slightly, gripping his hand tighter.

A smirk formed on Matts face, "you love it" his tone shifted slightly, carrying an air of seduction.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, glancing away from Matt and locking eyes with Justin, who was grinning behind his cup and watching the two of you act as if you were the only people in the world. He shot you a knowing wink and you smiled at him, your attention finding the grass in slight embarrassment.

Once the sun had set, you all settled in the garden, curled up on the furniture

"happy birthday, my sweet" your mum pulled you into a tight hug.

"thanks mum, i'll be home after tonight, I want to spend some proper time with you before we go back to LA" you said into her hair, just before you broke the hug.

"I'd love that" she smiled, her eyes glistening just as yours do when you smile.

Once your mum had left, Mary-lou and Jimmy went to bed, and it was just you and the boys, all sitting round the fireplace jimmy had built when you guys were little.

"Nate, are you staying here tonight?" you asked from your position on the bench, legs draped over Nicks.

"yeah I think so, gonna spoon with my boyfriend" Nate said, wrapping his arm around Chris shoulder and kissing his cheek.

"cant wait" Chris giggled.

Nate and Chris went up stairs first, saying something about 'burring kids on fort'.

It was just you Nick and Matt, you spent a while talking about the day and giggling about how oblivious you were. Matt couldn't stop staring at you, the way your features were illuminated by the flames captivating him completely. A small smile crept across Nicks face when he noticed his brothers inability to look away from you.

"I'm gonna go zone out and edit the pictures from today" Nick pulled your legs from across his, ruffling your hair as he stood up, "happy birthday, queen" He grinned.

You and Matt were finally alone, and he immediately came to join you on the small sofa you were curled up on.

He pulled your legs over his, rubbing small circles across your soft skin. You shut your eyes and let your head fall back onto the arm rest, reeling in his touch after what felt like forever.

"I um, I got you something" Matt said, breaking the comfortable silence.

You pulled your head up to look at him, "you got me something?" You mirrored his words.

Matt nodded with his lip tucked between his teeth, shifting slightly to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a small box with a little blue bow on it, handing it to you with nervous hands.

You took the box from him, admiring the effort he went to with a smile and a kind tut. Before you even opened it, you were grinning from ear to ear.

"you didn't have to do this" You smiled at him, your heart pounding in your chest at the sentiment of him giving you a gift, in secret

"just shut up and open it" Matt rolled his eyes, tapping your leg.

"Okay, okay" you shuffled to sit up, undoing the bow and handing him the ribbon.

You opened the box with a creak, your mouth falling agape slightly at the sight of a small gold heart locket staring back at you. It was engraved with swirls in a shape that followed the curves of the gold. A small blue gemstone sitting happily in the centre. You couldn't help but gasp slightly, it was beautiful.

"Matt..." you said softly, eyes finding his as he grinned at you.

"open it" He cocked his head slightly.

You furrowed your brows lovingly, glancing back down to the locket before carefully opening it. Inside, was a tiny photo of you and Matt when you were kids. Little Matt was in a backwards hat, holding your face with his tiny hand, innocently kissing your cheek as you smiled at the camera.

You were in awe, it was perfect. tears welled in your eyes as you shut the box, throwing yourself forward and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Matt giggled, hugging you back and nestling his head into your neck.

"do you like it?" He said, tucked into your hair.

"Matt..." You pulled away, "it's perfect, its beautiful, its-" you sighed, shaking your head and looking down at the box in your palm, "thank you" you said, a warm smile on your face as your eyes poured into his, flitting back and forth and watching as the fire flickered against his blue iris'

"you're welcome, angel" Matts hand found your cheek, caressing it slightly with his thumb as he pulled you into a tender, loving kiss.

Your lips slotted around his perfectly, you closed your eyes and leant into the kiss, deepening it with the brush of your tongue against Matts lip, asking for invitation.

Mat chuckled into your mouth, "easy, birthday girl, we're still in my garden remember?" He smiled, peppering a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away completely.

You and Matt spent the whole night talking,

wrapped up in each other and the warm embrace of the fire. The stars hung above your heads, illuminating your conversation as you laughed and joked, talking about everything from childhood memories to your favourite 'date nights'. On nights like this, it was easy to forget that you weren't together. Everything with Matt was so easy, you knew him better than you knew yourself and vice versa. You just worked, and, you hadn't realised in that moment, and wouldn't for a while but, you were falling in love with him.

When the fire finally died, you both retreated inside,

walking hand in hand through the house, trying to be as quiet as possible in attempts to not wake anyone up.

You crept up the stairs, following Matt with your hand loosely locked in his. You reached his bedroom door and paused just outside, Matt turned to face you, his hands finding your waist as yours found his shoulders.

"you know, I have another present for you" He whispered, moving his lips impossibly close to yours.

"really?" you whispered into his nearly open mouth.

"mhm" Matt nodded, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue instantly pressing against yours.

You kissed him back with matching desperation, wrapping your arms round his shoulders as he opened the door with one hand, leading you both inside to his dimly lit childhood bedroom.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only deepened it once you were safely hidden in the confides of his room. Matts fingers looped around the hem of your top, silently asking for permission to take it off as you broke the kiss. He slipped your top over your head and pulled his own off before quickly capturing your lips in a wet kiss once more. You whined at the sensation of his warm skin pressed against yours, falling against the bed as you straddled him.

You ground your hips against him as you bit down on his lip, growing more and more desperate for him as minutes passed. Matt groaned at the feeling on your warm, clothed pussy rubbing against his stiffening cock. He pushed you up, flipping you both over so your back was on the soft fabric of his duvet. You hit the bed with a giggle into your kiss, one Matt returned as he pulled away from your lips, trailing warm kisses across your skin, down your torso and to the hem of your jeans. Your hands found his hair, back arching into his touch as his grip on your ribs became bruising.

Matt sucked and kissed at the skin on your stomach, nipping at the flesh as he edged his hands down your torso and to the button of your jeans. He expertly pulled them open, breaking his embrace with your skin to tell you to lift your hips up. You complied, allowing him to pull your jeans down at an agonisingly slow pace. As he did, he kissed all the way down the inside of your legs, pressing his warm tongue against your skin. An uncontrollable whimper left your throat, a tingling warmth vibrating across your body at the feeling of Matts slow kisses.

You wear nearly bare for him, sprawled out on his bed, clad in a baby pink matching set he had gotten you a couple weeks earlier. Matt groaned at the sight of you, stretching like a cat and putting yourself on full display for him.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful" Matt shook his head, unable to control his wondering hands as one gripped your thigh, and the other found the soft flesh of your tit.

You smiled in response, a smile that quickly left your face as Matt leant down, capturing the soft skin of your stomach against his tongue once more. He was so gentle, taking his time as he worked his way down to wear you needed him the most. Your hands were tangled in his messy hair, pushing him against you with desperation as he kissed all round the hem of your panties, purposefully missing your throbbing clit with every wet, warm kiss.

His thumb came to your core, and your back arched instantly at the pressure of his digit against your sopping hole. He pushed the fabric against your pussy, making your juices seep through the lace. A chuckle left his lips at the sight, pride swelling in his chest over how wet you were for him.

"Matt, please" You whined, bucking your hips into his thumb, the tension making you feel lightheaded as you looked down at him with hooded eyes.

"you want it, angel?" Matt looked up at you, pressing his thumb harder against your clit as he began to rub slow circles against the lace.

You nodded with a whimper, your lip tucked between your teeth as you played with his soft, brown locks.

"okay, pretty girl" He smiled, letting you get away with the lack of verbal agreeance only because it was your birthday.

With that, he wrapped his mouth around your core. His tongue pressing against the soaking wet fabric as he slowly and passionately kissed your pussy. Your mouth opened, a moan nearly escaping your lips as you pressed a firm palm over your face, silencing any noises that tried to escape.

Matt pulled your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your warm pussy just before his mouth was back on you, lapping at your hole as it clenched around nothing. His pace was slow, but the pressure he was applying sent tingles all through your body.

He was relentless, not giving you a moment before he teased your hole with his middle finger, slipping it in with ease. Your thighs tensed around his head, locking him in. Matt didn't mind, in fact, he loved it. He groaned at the taste of you, watching as your back arched off the bed, pushing your throbbing pussy further into his mouth. He slipped a second finger into your clenching hole and began to suck gently on your clit, pumping his fingers at a faster pace than his mouth was working.

The sensation was euphoric, your whole body felt as if it was on fire as your vision began to blur. Matt curled his fingers inside of you, lapping and sucking at your clit like a man starved, relishing in the sight of you convulsing above him. You tensed and writhed, your toes curling as you involuntarily bucked your hips into his mouth. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked and sticky walls filling the air.

"you taste so good, angel" Matt spoke into your pussy before latching his lips around your clit once more, his tongue pressed flat against it as he worked your sopping hole.

All you could do was whimper in response, any sense of coherence leaving your brain as Matt brought you closer to the edge. The vibration of his soft moans against your pussy had you reeling, and with a knuckle deep curl of his fingers, your vision was white, your thighs tight around his head as a wave of blissful euphoria washed over you. You came all over Matts mouth, releasing your juices onto his fingers. He swiped his tongue through your folds, collecting your cum on his tongue with a groan as you shook above him, your grip on his hair relentless as you rode out your high on his face.

Matt kept his pace, determined to make you cum again, totally engrossed in the taste of you on his tongue. Your whole body began to tense, legs shaking as if they had their own mind as Matt pumped into you faster, sucking on your clit with feverish pressure. He near enough growled as he felt you clenching around him once more.

"Matt, Matt I think I'm gonna-" You were cut off by a sudden, guttural moan attempting to leave your throat. You tried your best to silence yourself, but the sensation that was ripping through your body was more than distracting.

You released a flood of juices all over Matts face, juices he encouraged with curling fingers and a lapping tongue. He couldn't help but smile as you squirted all over his face, shaking and convulsing on his mouth as he slowed his pace on your pussy.

you went completely limp, shivers creeping up your spine as Matt pulled his mouth from you, the cold air hitting your warm pussy once more.

"happy birthday, my pretty, pretty girl" Matt whispered, crawling up your body to capture your open mouth in a wet kiss.

The taste of yourself on his tongue sent you into a frenzy, and as if on instinct, you locked your legs around his waist, hands immediately going to the buckle of his belt, pulling his jeans open with utter desperation as you whimpered into his mouth.

Matts cock was painfully hard as you took him in your palm, a small whine leaving his lips as you pumped him, attempting to line him up with your gaping, soaked hole as he bucked into your hand. You were locked in between his arms, his body weight hovering just above you as you pressed his leaking tip between your folds, pushing it up and over your clit with needy whines.

Matt chuckled into the kiss, and waited until you brought his tip down to your hole before bucking his hips forward, sliding his length inside you with ease. You both moaned at the sensation, your head flying back to the pillow, breaking the kiss. Matt stared down at you in awe, the sight of your fucked out face making him lose all control. He bottomed out without warning, pressing his hips hard against yours.

"fuck, Matt" you whimpered into his ear, locking him into you with tight arms around his neck.

Matt groaned, pulling out of you before pushing into you once more, feeling lightheaded from the sensation of being nestled deep into your perfect, warm pussy and dipping his head down to the cook of your neck

The sting of him stretching you out was blissful, you nipped at his earlobe, "you stretch me out so fuckin' good, daddy" you whispered.

Matts attention was immediately back on you, eyes wide as he stilled inside you. You giggled slightly, looking at him with teasing eyes as he attempted to form a thought.

"say it again." he said, his tone stern but holding the air of a whimper

"make me cum all over your dick for my birthday, daddy" you said, biting your lip and giggling once more.

Matt growled, dipping his head down to kiss you with feverish passion as he began to rut into you, hard and fast. You moaned into his mouth, legs tight around his hips as he fucked you at a relentless pace. One hand was pressing bruises into your waist, holding you still as the other held your jaw, leading the kiss with gentle dominance as your walls clenched around him, milking him.

His dick pressed against your g-spot over and over again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrust into you, the whole bed shifting under you both. His grip on your jaw was soft, but the way he was kissing you was completely desperate, heavy breathes leaving his mouth every time he caught a sliver of air. Matt was completely lost in you, fucking you with passion you'd never felt before. The sensation of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls was mind boggling, and the pressure of his warm skin against yours had you reeling.

Matts hand moved from your waist down to your clit, and he began to work fast circles over the throbbing bud, looking down and watching as your pussy sucked him in.

"oh my god" you whimpered, eyes clenching shut.

"cum for me, princess, cum all over my dick, please" Matt was begging, actually begging to make you cum again.

He watched as all sense left your brain, your orgasm fast approaching as he kept his pace, fucking you with relentless desperation and rubbing fast circles against your clit, using your juices as lubrication for his movements.

"fuck, you're so beautiful like this, so fuckin' beautiful, taking me so well, such a pretty girl" Matts rambles were coming out in moans, watching as you approached your climax.

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you as you came all over his dick. The tight clench of your pussy around him sent him spiralling, and with a stutter of his hips and a hard, whimpering thrust, Matt came inside you, matching your breathy moans as his forehead rested against yours.

Matt stilled inside you completely, breathing heavily above you with closed eyes. You giggled, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips and he chuckled in response.

"best birthday sex, ever" you whispered with a smile.

Matt chuckled once more, opening his eyes to look at you cheesing up at him. He shook his head with a smirk and kissed you as he pulled out, his spent cock limp against his leg. He fell down onto you instantly, and your hands found his hair.

"we should do that every year" Matt muttered into your skin, a wave of tiredness washing over him as your gentle caresses on his head soothed his racing heart.

You didn't reply, only smiled to yourself at the sentiment, not quite realising the weight of Matts request due to your fucked out senses.

Within minutes, you and Matt were asleep, tangled up in one another's warm, naked bodies.

The next morning,

you and the boys were sitting around the breakfast table, eating waffles and drinking fresh orange juice. No one had noticed you sneak out of Matt's room in the early hours of that morning, and luckily when you snuck into nicks room to pretend to be asleep, he was dead asleep.

"yesterday was so fun, guys, I love it when we're all together" Chris said, already getting sentimental at ten in the morning.

"it was great, I really felt the OG-ness" You said, cocking a brow at Chris. Nick and Matt both groaned at you encouraging Chris' antics.

"YES!" Chris shouted, flinging his bacon out his hand, "the OG-ness, bro, I'm tellin' you, it's a thing" he continued, patting Nate on the chest.

Nate chuckled, "okay, kid"

Everyone laughed at Chris' outburst, the table filled with rolling eyes and warm hearts, because deep down, you all knew he was right. A comfortable silence filled the kitchen as you all continued to eat your breakfast, simply enjoying each others company.

"so" Nick said, taking a bite of bacon, "what did you guys get up to after we all went to sleep?" he asked, innocently.

You and Matt shared a quick look, both fighting the smiles forming on your face. You shuffled in your seat and shook your head slightly, "nothin' really, we just stayed up all night talking".

"yeah, just sat down here and hung out, pretty much" Matt added, a small smirk crawling its way across his face.

You glanced at him, trying to look as normal as possible. Nick watched the entire interaction with a look of bafflement on his face, eyes flitting between the both of you shifting in your skin on either side of the table.

"okay..." he drew out his word, taking a bite of his food with suspicion etched across his features.

The nearly awkward tension was cut off by Justin coming into the kitchen, he walked behind you and placed a firm hand on your shoulder with a squeeze, "how was the rest of your birthday evening, y/n/n" he asked, his accusatory tone going over everyones heads.

"it was good, thanks J" you looked up at him from your perched position.

"Good" he nodded with a smirk, before walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug.

Nick watched with furrowed brows, his eyes trained on you as you blushed. The puzzle pieces began to slot together in his mind, you looked at him, your face completely straight but somehow confirming his suspicions.

"OH MY GOD" Nick screamed, everyone in the room being totally startled by his volume.

"what Nick? what?" Chris jumped out his skin, looking around the kitchen for an axe murderer.

Nick locked eyes with you once more and your eyes widened slightly, unbeknownst to you. Matts focus was trained on you, and Nick looked to Matt, who suddenly looked very tense.

"no, nothing, nothing, I thought um- I thought I saw a bug" Nick stuttered his way through his lie.

A smile formed on your lips, as you returned your attention to your food. Matts shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at Nick, shooting him a grateful look. Nick was onto you both, but you knew your secret was safe with him, and realistically, he'd probably forget about it in a week. Of course he didn't, he kept it to himself for months, until the moment came where he needed to be a big brother and save the day, but thats a story for another time.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[jeonstudios]

fontana di trevi | 02

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 9k

warnings: same as last time basically: blood, needles, suicidal thoughts and intentions

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/2

<previous | next>

© fontana di trevi is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

“Thanks,” you smile politely as you close the car door, hearing the Uber drive off behind you. The walk up to the house is no different than last time, yet it definitely feels different. Both because of what happened almost a week ago, but also since you’re hoping this will be the last time.

What certainly is different is the surprised look on the vampire’s face as he opens the door to see you standing there with your hands in the pockets of your winter coat.

He himself is wearing a black hoodie, and once again, black shorts. His hair looks a little messier than how you’re used to seeing it. Almost like he’s been sleeping. Vampires don’t sleep, though, do they?

“I… didn’t think you’d show,” he admits honestly, nonetheless opening the door wider for you, and as you enter, you can’t help but think that he looks… almost cuddly.

Of course, he still gives off the usual intimidating aura, and he should probably be even scarier to you considering what happened last time you met him, but… you don’t know. Perhaps you’re just so deprived of human touch that a bloodthirsty vampire’s cold embrace seems inviting.

This time, he waits in the hallway while you step out of your shoes and remove your coat. 

“Yeah, I still want this. I just… wasn’t prepared,” you explain rather vaguely, knowing that he understands exactly what you’re getting at anyway. You want to die but on your terms.

“It wasn’t my intention. To do what I did.”

You meet his eyes. It’s not an outright apology, but it feels eerily close to one.

“You were there to… feed, weren’t you?”

He nods. “Didn’t get the chance to on Thursday or Friday.”

It’s your turn to nod in understanding. For a short moment, you stand there, looking at each other. 

Until you break the silence. “So, can we start?”

“Sure,” he agrees, turning around to head toward the kitchen.

Like the first time you showed up to his house when he didn’t think you were going to, he has to bring the supplies from wherever he keeps them. You take your spot at the table, slip off your cardigan, and wait.

The vampire returns with his hands full, placing the stuff down on the table before he pulls out another chair and positions it the same way as always. But his focus lies on your skin.

“These are new bruises?” he asks, carefully grasping your hand and very gently lifting it to better inspect the yellowing marks covering your skin. “You always bruise like this after?”

You follow his gaze. There are currently three bruises on your right arm, none the same as the night he almost killed you. Two are yellow and from when you bumped into a dresser at home a few days ago. The third is purple but smaller and its origin a mystery. If he wanted to see bruises, he should’ve seen the ones on your legs after you fell when he attacked you.

“Not the first time, but yeah. Usually just from the needle site, but lately, it’s all over. I guess I’m a little deficient in something,” you joke quietly, but the vampire doesn't laugh. 

“Why does it interest you so much? Do you have some kind of medical degree?” you ask, thinking back to when he first asked you why you didn’t wonder about his apparent knowledge.

“Not officially, but being dependent on humans like we are to some extent, you tend to pick up on stuff, and having been around as long as I have, it’s even more unavoidable. But I’ve never seen bruising this severe from blood loss.”

Fair enough. Your body should definitely try to keep the little blood remaining inside your veins, where it belongs. 

He starts prepping your arm, but instead of looking away, you close your eyes. Are you imagining things or has he been… softer lately? Making sure you got home safely instead of leaving you to your fate, almost worrying about your bruises, and being gentler in the way he attaches the needle? Then again, he’s only making sure you can give him as much blood as possible, and he also would’ve probably killed you if he’d gotten ahold of you last week.

“I take it you’ve killed before?” 

There’s a few seconds of silence, but then he answers, and there’s nothing hidden in his words or voice that reveals something more.

“I have.”

“How do you…,” you start, unsure of how to phrase your question. “I mean, what do you do… after?”

“Are you asking…?”

“How do you… dispose of them? And… I guess, how will you dispose of… me?”

It’s not really a sensitive question for you, so you’re not sure for whose sake you’re so careful. You doubt the vampire really cares.

You hear him exhale. “I guess it depends on the circumstances. I haven’t planned anything.”

You wince when he sticks you, more painful this time for some reason. The ball is placed in your hand like always, and you start to squeeze it.

Your curiosity isn’t that dire, so you’re not disappointed by his answer. Maybe he’s not even being honest, and it’s for your sake? Which brings you back to why he’s being extra gentle. The only other explanation you can think of is that he feels sorry for you. Maybe he just truly wants to spare you unnecessary pain and worry in the last moments of your pathetic life? Because this is it. With how shitty you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks and especially since last time, you know it won’t be long. Today’s the day.

One bag. He can take one bag and after that he’ll have to end it. That way, you don’t have to bleed out, and he’ll get as much blood as possible. If he takes your advice about how to drain the rest, well, that’s up to him.

You’re startled by the sound of knocking, opening your eyes to see the vampire rise from his chair, seemingly sharing your surprise. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, you close your eyes again, getting as comfortable as you can in the chair while wondering who’s at the door. A vampire friend? A vampire partner? Surely, he doesn’t hang out with humans on the regular? You always got the impression, both from him and vampires in pop culture, that they don’t really care for humans. In fact, a dirty human only pesters a vampire’s environment unless they’re actively dying.

Your heart hurts. It’s beating heavily inside your chest, a feeling you’ve grown somewhat used to over the weeks, but it feels undeniably worse. Like every beat is a painful and exhausting accomplishment. Your breaths grow heavier too. 

Surely, it’s been more than a minute. Is he on his way back? If he were a human, chatting with another human at the front door, maybe you would’ve heard them, but you can’t discern anything. 

It feels a little like your head’s in the clouds, and you’re not sure if your eyes are still closed or if they’re open and you just can’t see anything. You have a feeling that not only can’t you hear the vampire, you can’t hear anything anymore.

Realizing that this is it, you try to call for him quietly to tell him so, but although you’re pretty certain you’re dying, for some reason, you don’t want to interrupt whatever he’s doing with his visitor.

“Fine, alright, I’ll talk to him, but please, this is not a good time.”

“But he’s being an ass, and you were the last person he spoke to before he left for fucking Iceland.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at his friend, Yuqi. With how much she and Taehyung love each other, there’s a surprising amount of drama. 

“I don’t wanna get involved. I’ll call him later.”

“Fine, get back to me after. If he doesn’t answer, I’m taking the first flight.”

“Vampire?”

Yuqi, who was just about to turn around to leave, stops in her tracks.

“What… was that?” she asks, standing still before discreetly scenting the air. “Is that… blood?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. He’s used to smelling blood whenever you’re there to leave it, but not this much. Quickly, and without regard to Yuqi, he turns to rush back into his kitchen, eyes going even wider at the vision in front of him.

“Vampire?” you call out quietly again from the chair, eyes closed and unknowing of his return. You seem out of it, bordering on unconscious, and it’s not without reason. Jeongguk curses himself for not double checking the blood bag when he knows that brand is prone to ripping because the bag isn’t full; it’s broken, and your blood is dripping into a big puddle of red on the floor.

You think… you’re being… carried? By someone firm and… warm. You like that.

“I’m not warm," a low voice comments. "At least I’m not supposed to be.”

“I’m dying… right?” you mumble, feeling how the vampire puts you down on something soft.

“Probably, yeah.”

He does something to your arms, and you can’t figure out what, but you realize it has something to do with collecting the remaining blood when you’re gone.

There’s another voice.

Next time you open your eyes, you feel… different. And upset. You’re not as dizzy as you’ve become accustomed to, and the room doesn’t spin when you sit up on the bed. Your body hurts, but it feels more like you’re simply tired and beat than extremely weak. Most importantly, you feel, which means you’re not dead.

As if he could sense your awakening—or just possesses superhuman hearing—a door opens to reveal the vampire. He's wearing other clothes, grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his face doesn't give you anything.

“What happened?” you question, looking around the room that’s clearly a bedroom. “And where am I?”

“You passed out. There was a hole in the bag, so the blood was just leaking onto the floor. I had my friend steal some from the hospital, and I gave you a transfusion. Yuqi also brought some clothes and stuff for you, so you’re staying here at least until tomorrow. Then you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

“I… don’t understand. Why would you—why not just let me go then?”

“I changed my mind.”

You look at him, bewildered and trying to find the words. “What do you mean you changed your mind? We had an agreement?”

“I know, but I changed my mind. I’m not doing it. If the blood matters to you, the bags are in the freezer.”

“Why–what would I do with blood?” you question in frustration. Is he offering it back in case you want to drink it? Try to put it back inside your veins? Apparently, you’ve already had transfusions, so you have exactly zero use for frozen bags of blood. “Why can’t you just get on with it? Why not let me die?”

“I do not. Want. To,” he hisses.

You stare at him in silence, feeling confused and betrayed. He looks away but doesn't seem affected. No shame, no regret, no anything but a moment of frustration to breach otherwise calm determination.

“Here’s the stuff,” he gestures toward a duffel bag by the foot of the bed. “You have a bathroom right outside, and I’m gonna order some food for you. You should take it easy; I wasn’t able to give you as much blood as you really need, and unfortunately, what I’ve previously collected isn’t fit to give back. Since it’s been frozen and stored improperly for that kind of purpose, there would be a risk of clotting.”

You look at him from where you’re sitting on his bed, and he looks back at you. The irritation you feel grows beyond what you’re capable of conveying, and so it turns into defeat. It makes you angry, how he managed to back out of giving you what you wanted at the very last second. You spent months upholding your end of the deal, and when it finally came time for him to do the same, he didn’t. 

“Don’t bother,” you lie down slowly, your back facing him where he stands at the door. Silently, you curse your body for feeling so tired; ideally, you’d stomp out of there, slamming the door behind you. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Your own clothes are still wearable. The few stains of blood are relatively small and dried, and the vampire already placed you on his bed, so you don’t feel like you’ll do any more damage by sleeping in them. The house is quiet, but you don’t think he’s left it, which begs the question of where he is. And also if he sleeps and if he does, then… where? He never gave you a tour or anything, so you have no idea what the rest of his house looks like. Whatever; you don’t care, anyway.

His sheets smell clean, though, and it doesn’t take you long to pass out, truly exhausted.

When you wake up, you can’t find your phone, and without any other time measuring device, you don’t know what time it is. It appears like the sun rose not too long ago so that narrows your guess a little bit at least.

Sitting up slowly, you take a deep breath. You feel… okay. A bit sore almost, but more energetic than you have in a while. Unfortunately, it’s not necessarily a good thing in your book.

Sighing, you put your feet to the hardwood floor. They carry you with only a little dizziness, and you set your sight on the bedroom door. It opens smoothly, and you peer out, looking for the bathroom the vampire mentioned. There’s a door immediately to your left which you guess must be it, and so you head toward it. 

After successfully finding the bathroom and using it, you decide to continue the search for your phone. Since you thought last night would be your last and therefore arrived by Uber rather than driving, it means that without your phone, you have no way home.

You make your way down some stairs, recognizing the hallway as the one the vampire has led you through what feels like countless times. Last time you remember having your phone was in the kitchen, so that’s where you steer your steps.

As luck would have it, the kitchen is also where the vampire happens to be. Upon your entrance, your eyes immediately fall on the tall man where he stands, leaning back against the counter. Although he surely heard you approaching a long time ago, he only turns his head slowly toward you when you’re well into the room. He’s hard to read; doesn’t offer much.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

The vampire twists his body to look at the counter behind him, sliding something toward you. You take a step closer, inspecting the device when it’s in your hands. Three percent.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod and pushes off the counter, leaving the kitchen. You wait, quietly wondering what exactly goes on inside his head. He seems unfazed by the whole ordeal, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. But what you still don’t quite understand is why he claimed to have changed his mind. Could it be that he just didn’t want to deal with your body? 

The vampire returns with a white charger in his hand, his skin cold against yours when you accept it from him. Finding a fitting outlet near the table, you plug the charger in and sit down, gazing out through the window while you wait for the phone to charge enough for the trip home. The vampire has gone back to leaning wordlessly against the counter, and you ignore him.

Opening your phone, you find that the only unread notification you have is a spam email. Why are you surprised? With a small sigh, you lock the device again, hoping it’ll charge faster if you don’t use it. Forty percent should be enough.

It’s snowing outside, and you watch the big snowflakes fall slowly and silently to the already white ground. Waiting like this gives you time to go over all the things you’ve done wrong in your life.

Next time you unlock your phone, the battery has reached thirty-seven percent. You open the Uber app to see that a car can arrive in ten minutes. You confirm it, noting the time as eleven twenty-three. You’ll wait five more minutes before you start getting ready, which honestly is just putting your shoes and coat on. 

The seconds pass slowly one after the other. You wonder briefly how long it took the vampire to clean because, although you didn’t notice the blood dripping to the floor while it was happening, you understood that there was a lot of it. Must suck for him to have it wasted like that. The question is also why he would waste even more blood by giving you a transfusion? If he went through the pain of acquiring bagged blood, why not just drink that?

At eleven twenty-nine, your phone’s battery is at fifty-two percent. You unplug the charger from the wall, and as you stand, you place it on the table with a quiet ‘thanks.’

“Going home?” the vampire wonders, black eyes watching you. He looks casual, but there’s that hint of softness shining through again. 

You pass him on your way to the front door. “Yeah.”

“Reconsider,” he encourages, and you know he’s not talking about your journey home. 

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Yes,” he follows. “Whatever’s troubling you doesn’t matter. There’s so much for you to see and do, so many places to visit and people to meet. Your life is so incredibly short, and you won’t have time to see even a fraction of the world as is.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you say, bending down to put your boots on.

“Have you even been outside of this town?”

Why is he trying to control you? He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t care. It’s not like you’ll magically be fine after his ‘cheer up, pal,’ and ending your life is not a decision you have taken hastily or easily.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

“Of course. But it’s not…” you straighten up to look at him, frustration dripping from your words. “Don’t you see that I’m all alone? I don’t have anybody, no one to experience things with, and much less the money to just up and leave. Sure, maybe I could get a loan and travel through Italy for two weeks, but then what? I’ll be miserable and in debt.”

The vampire tilts his head, looking at you with his black eyes but not saying anything. He just doesn't understand. You put your other foot into your boot and reach for your coat before he can try to persuade you again for whatever reason.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “I’ll be going.”

He doesn’t stop you from opening the door, and he doesn’t follow you when you leave, one boot undone and with your coat held to your chest. Irritation turns to sadness and defeat as you wait for the Uber to arrive, taking the opportunity to actually put your coat on and tie your laces properly. Snow falls around you, and when you're done, you stand there, waiting pathetically by the side of the road in the cold. You’re back at square one.

Despite having slept for countless hours at the vampire’s house, you head straight for your bed the moment you return home. For another few hours, you sleep, and then you spend a few more lying there in the dark, thinking. 

It’s seven p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve wasted a lot of time, months even, waiting for the vampire to get what he wanted and follow through on his part. But that’s over now, so what are you waiting for right now? 

Two and a half hours later, you put your boots back on and throw a lighter jacket over your shoulders, one that allows easier access to your neck.

Still not feeling your best, it takes you fifteen minutes to walk what the vampire did in six, carrying you on his back. You don’t understand him. He acted like he didn’t want you to die, but if he cared about you at all, he would’ve backed out earlier and not waited until his actions brought you within an inch of your life for what, the third time? Was he hoping you’d stay alive so that you’d hopefully continue donating your blood, even if less frequently? 

Although nearing his feeding grounds, you’re hoping not to run into him. He did state that he changed his feeding days to Thursdays, and last week, when you did run into him, it seemed like a coincidence. Besides, this place is your best bet tonight; even the vampire admitted that there were others there last time. Surely, they’re around here somewhere tonight as well. 

Since you assume vampires don’t want unnecessary attention, you stake out near the same club as last week, but this time, you hide in the shadows around a corner. Then, you wait for a victim.

Thirty minutes to midnight, a woman stumbles out through the door, a bouncer holding it open for her. She’s obviously had a bit to drink, and as she clumsily fixes her little cross body bag and sets off along the street, you look around from your hiding spot.

But you don’t see or hear anything; not a dark figure moving nor the sound of footsteps. Still, you follow her, hoping for the best. Wanting to keep your distance, you instead find it hard to keep up with her, which is saying something about your current health.

About two hundred meters from the club, she suddenly slows down, her attention seemingly drawn to something in an alleyway. You weren’t sure exactly how the vampires hunt, but by how the woman begins to slowly drift inside the dark alleyway of her own accord, you guess they do have some kind of pull. Most women, even when slightly drunk, typically try not to do… that.

You quicken your steps as much as possible without breaking into a sprint. Not only do you want to speak to a vampire; if you can take that woman’s place and leave her unscathed, it’s an added bonus. Before you’ve caught up, the woman slowly and quietly disappears, and when you turn the corner with your phone in hand and flashlight turned on, you spot a man holding her to his body. 

Evidently hearing you approaching, the man has placed them against the wall, halfway obscured by a dumpster and hoping you’d walk past them, which you would have if you weren’t so focused on the woman and your mission.

The man squints in the light, and you very clearly discern long fangs. You take another step into the alleyway, but what you didn’t expect was to be grabbed from another direction. 

Gasping, you feel strong arms hold your back against someone’s chest, effortlessly keeping you immobile. 

“What can we offer? Though you smell like vampire already?” The man who holds you says, sounding surprised, and your phone is taken from your hand and the flashlight turned off. 

Obviously, they assume you’re one of the freaky ones looking for vampires because any normal person would run. Your reason for wanting to find one is different, though. 

“I have a proposition,” you stutter, not too scared but uncomfortable with how the man noses at your neck. Despite knowing that if the vampire bites, it’ll most likely be your neck, you can’t help trying to pull away. It’s just another bodily reaction. 

Your words intrigue him, and he moves, creating just a tad bit more space between your bodies and looking down at you with a curious smirk.

“A proposition, you say?”

“You can have my blood—all of it—if you take it right here and now.”

“What’s the catch?” he asks, raising an eyebrow much like a certain vampire you know. “What’s in it for you?”

“There is no catch. I want to die.”

The other vampire, curiously listening to your conversation, whispers something in the other woman’s ear, and lets her go. She stumbles away from him and then casually leaves the alleyway, turning the corner calmly as if nothing happened. 

You meet the vampire’s puzzled yet curious eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my blood if you think I’m trying to trick you into something. Except that it’s apparently B positive which I understand is not that desirable, but—”

“You’re Jeon’s human?”

“Uh—what? Who?” you ask, confused but slowly putting two and two together.

“Fuck, should we?” the other vampire questions quietly.

“Jeon,” the closest one to you starts, “is the vampire you smell of. He’s been very persistent no one touches his human.”

“Yeah. Can’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to have someone offer to be a walking blood bag, I wouldn’t let them outside at all.”

“I’m not… I’m not anyone’s, and I’m not a walking blood bag,” you explain, feeling belittled. “He made me a promise that he broke. He was going to help me die in exchange for my blood, but he just used me to collect blood, and then he didn’t deliver.”

The two vampires look at each other, and you feel like they didn’t really pay attention to anything you just said.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I wanna get on his bad side.”

“But he’s too arrogant,” the first one complains. “If I want something, why should he prevent me from getting it? He doesn’t own the supply here. I’m a thousand years old; I shouldn’t need to ask for permission.”

“Dude’s like three thousand years old, though? You don’t need to ask permission; you can literally choose anyone. Except this one, for some reason. I don’t think I would if I were you.”

“Our agreement is over,” you try to enter the conversation the two vampires are holding over your head.

“Well,” the one holding your arms peers down at you, “He said that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to touch you.”

You scoff, growing irritated again, “Okay, well, are there any vampires around that aren’t such wimps? If I can’t find anyone to just snap my neck, I’m going to the train tracks and then my blood will be wasted.”

That’s a lie, of course. There’s a reason you picked death by vampire; you’re too scared to do it any other way, and no matter how much you want to die, you can’t subject anyone else—like a poor train driver—to it. Vampires are cold and heartless. They don’t care.

“Hold on. Wait,” the vampire holds you tighter when you haphazardly try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look,” he says to the other, “He can’t tell us what to do. Besides, if he gets angry, we can just say that she said their agreement was over, and we did her a favor out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You don’t have a heart; you just want to annoy him.”

The vampire grins. At first, it’s a boyish smile directed at his friend, but when he slowly tilts his head down to look at you, it turns almost sinister. “I think I’m gonna do it.”

You gulp. No matter how much this is what you want, it does scare you. Mostly because you’re afraid it will be painful.

“Is there a way you can kill me first? I don’t want it to hurt.”

The smiling vampire shakes his head. 

“No.”

You thought death was supposed to be a void. A void of darkness, devoid of physical matter, emotions, and thoughts. But it hurts. It hurts so much. 

Then, a void does take over.

Jeongguk knew you’d try again. If he wouldn’t kill you, you were going to find someone who would. And despite hoping that you would’ve changed your mind, he was unfortunately right. He spent an hour roaming the dark streets around the town’s attempt at a nightlife, but he didn’t come across you. Not until he visits the same place where you first found him, a place he wouldn’t take as your first choice since you ran into him there a week earlier. 

He’s spent hours and hours these last weeks with you on his mind; the little human who wants to die so badly. It’s just something about you and your willingness to die that doesn’t sit right with him, and you won’t leave his thoughts. It’s not his business, he told himself as he saw you curled up and unconscious in your car. Who is he to tell someone what they should do with their life? If anything, respecting your wishes and consuming freely donated blood is easier and more ethical than taking it from plastered people who aren’t really sure what’s going on, right?

The scenes replaying the most in his head are more recent. It’s the way you suggested he kill and butcher your body, saying no one would look for you anyway, and how you called for him, unknowing that your blood was dripping to the floor but still trying your hardest to squeeze that ball for him. Your fingers were barely moving, but you tried since he wanted that blood. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, trying to convince you to live, but he guesses that he simply needs to know that you experienced some good things in life too. He can’t let you end it this way, as a lifeless body, discarded somewhere where no one will find you.

Anger, frustration, and an odd feeling of helplessness flood him as he takes in the sight of the vampire in the process of draining you dry. He rushes into the dark alleyway, the vampire looking up from your neck just as Jeongguk strikes. There’s not much of a fight after that. The first vampire stumbles backward, and Jeongguk grabs your lifeless body from him as the second vampire approaches, eyes wide and with his hands raised shoulder height.

“Easy, man.”

“I fucking told you to leave her alone.”

The dazed vampire grumbles something, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay him any attention. He places your body down on the snow-covered ground and looks at your pale face while searching for a pulse right under your jaw. 

“She wanted to die.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongguk growls. “How much did you take?”

There is no pulse.

“At least three fourths. Possibly more.”

Jeongguk shuts his eyes. There’s no coming back from that.

You’ve lost and regained consciousness due to blood loss one too many times by now, but this time, it really feels different. Opening your eyes, the sunlight filling the room irritates your eyes, forcing you to squint for a few seconds. 

Without moving, you focus on something. The vampire. Jeon, was it? You watch as he rummages through his closet, practically soundlessly, taking out a few items and looking them over before settling on what looks like two black shirts, one long-sleeve and one short-sleeve. Then he digs out a pair of shorts and another pair of sweatpants. 

You’re not used to seeing him in direct sunlight, but now, the rays filtering through the half-opened blinds paint him in a new light, and you let your eyes linger on his arms as he folds the clothes. The green t-shirt he wears is doing a great job at highlighting his veiny, muscular forearms as they work. Light and shadows play along those very defined muscles, accentuating them further.

Your first impression of him was a cold one, one that slowly warmed a little over time both physically and mentally. But in this light? Without even touching him, he looks… warmer to you. Inviting, almost like when he wore that black hoodie. 

You sigh quietly and pull the blanket that’s thrown over you closer. The vampire hears and turns around, placing the clothes at the foot of his large bed.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider his question. Though you’ve certainly felt better in a lot of ways, you don’t feel the way you’ve come to associate with severe blood loss. 

“Cold. And tired, but in a weird way.”

Weird is probably the best way to describe how you’re feeling in general. You feel light, but not weak. Tired, but not sleepy. 

He nods understandingly, “It’ll pass.”

You catch his gaze, holding it for a quiet moment. “You changed me, didn’t you?”

It’s the only explanation you can come up with. That vampire was hungry, and you remember slowly losing control in his grasp, both over your body and consciousness. With how many near-death experiences your body has endured in the last weeks—all blood loss related—there just wasn’t any chance you’d survive another draining.

“Yeah.” He looks away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t…”

You think you understand well enough what he’s trying to say, although you’re not too sure of his reasons or how to feel about it. He couldn’t let you die. In a way, you’re disappointed because you were finally getting what you wanted, and dying has proved itself to be surprisingly difficult for you. 

But you’re not angry; not like you were after the vampire saved you the first time. He mentioned once that not even vampires are immortal, so at least you know that you’re not doomed to an eternal life in suffering; you can always try again if you want. However, you’d be back at square one when it comes to options, but you don’t really feel the urgency anymore. At least not at the moment.

He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes with his deep, dark ones. “Let me show the world to you.”

Surprised to say the least, you mumble a quiet “What?”

He angles his body further toward you, and you see that despite the softer look on his face, he’s certain. “I want to show you everything the world has to offer. All the good things; the magical places and people.”

Not sure what to say, you just stare at him.

“Vampires are not immortal,” he continues. “If you really don’t want this, I’ll help you die. I promised. But please, think about it. No catch, no expectations.”

“But why… Why would you want that?” 

You’ve been alone for so long, unable to keep people around and interested, so why would this being be?

“Because I found that I really didn’t enjoy draining you of your life, especially when you were already so low to begin with. I want you to get the chance to experience the good things life has to offer, and I can’t help but want to be around when you do.”

“You don’t know me though.”

“I kinda want to,” he says, standing up with the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Think about it, okay? I’m not expecting anything from you other than that you consider.”

Still very much processing his words, you feel a cold shiver wreck your body, something the vampire notices.

“I’ll get you another blanket. Your body is still in the process of changing, and with that comes a decrease in temperature. It’s normal to feel cold.”

He’s about to leave when you call for him.

“Wait. What… What's your name? Your given name?”

He stops, and he smiles again. “Jeongguk. And I know yours already; it was on your door.”

You sleep for a little while longer, but when you start to feel better, you also start to think. You’ve been so certain for so long, and you still are—you think—but… either way, you’d like some answers; a clearer view of the whole picture.

“Jeongguk?” you call, unsure how loud you need to be. It feels strange to use a name for the vampire.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens. “Yeah?”

“I have some… questions.”

He nods, stepping into the darkness that is his bedroom and closing the door behind him. 

“Light sensitive?” he nods toward the window, where you’ve pulled the curtains closed over the blinds.

“Yeah… Is that normal?”

“It is. So is feeling sensitive to sound, touch, smell; basically all the senses. But it will pass pretty quickly.”

“Okay. Well, can you… tell me everything about being a vampire? I didn’t think you slept, but you do? Or why do I still sleep?”

He rounds the bed to sit next to you, and you feel it sink as he gets comfortable. Slowly, you turn to face him, watching him lean back against the headboard.

“So, basically, we can do all the things humans do. For instance, you’re still programmed to breathe, but it’s more of a habit and a way to smell than a means of survival.”

While he speaks, you try it. It’s strange, holding your breath and not feeling that strong, strong urge to take in air after a while.

“You can eat human food, but it’s not what sustains you, so most vampires don’t. It gets kinda boring after a while; you’ll see what I mean. Most also don’t sleep as they consider it a waste of time, but you can if you want to. I do pretty regularly. I find it… peaceful, and when you get older, it can be nice, getting a break between days.”

Hearing him talk so casually and almost… softly has you smiling slightly, unable to help it. So he had been sleeping when you knocked on the door, and his hair was all messy, and he looked so cuddly? You don’t know why, but you like that thought.

“You can exist in sunlight, you can consume garlic. Mirrors work for us as well. We don’t age like humans, but we can die if we’re pierced through the heart by something wooden—”

“—You mean staked?”

He looks at your wide, amused eyes and rolls his. “Yeah. Staked. Anyway, you’ll notice that your senses are heightened, and you’ll become stronger too. Not stronger than me, though,” he grins. “As for the blood, you can survive on any.”

“Any?”

What does he mean by that? Human and animal?

“Human, animal, vampire,” he says, the last one surprising you.

You blink, taken aback. “Vampires drink from other vampires?”

“We can. It’s not as common as feeding on humans as it’s mostly… a pretty intimate thing to do.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Thinking about it, you guess you can see why. Having someone so close, feeding on you without the power imbalance of prey versus predator that feeding on humans entails, must feel… intimate. More of a give and take. 

“You’ll need to feed in about a day or two, so you can choose. I have more human blood than just yours as it might be weird to drink your own blood, and I can get animal blood if that feels easier. Or… if you want to, you can drink from me.”

You look at him questioningly. “Didn’t you just say that it’s an intimate thing?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but if it would make for an easier transition for you, I don’t mind. I’ve taken a lot of blood from you, after all.”

“Okay,” you nod, briefly biting your lip. “I’ll think about it. About all of… this.”

Is death the thing you wanted above all else, or was it to get out of the life you were living? Now that your old life is, in a way, over, you’re not sure. Regardless, there are other worries still plaguing you. You look—almost stare—at his pretty face. 

“What?”

You bite your lip nervously again. “What if you change your mind? I’m assuming this was quite a rushed decision on your part. What if I don’t live up to your expectations? I barely knew how to navigate this world as a human, there’s no way I could… manage on my own as… as a vampire.”

Say you decide to give it a shot; what do you do if he grows tired of you?

“Changing someone is not something we take lightly. We don’t…” he looks around, seemingly searching for the right words. “We don’t change anyone if we’re not prepared to guide them, at least through the first years. Usually, vampires only end up turning their romantic partners, so for most, it means staying together for life. Regardless, it’s a big decision.”

Noticing your wide eyes, Jeongguk smiles and chuckles. “I’m not saying you have to hang around me for the rest of your life, and I won’t ask you to play my wife or anything, but I won’t abandon you.”

It’s surprising enough to hear that vampires not only regularly fall in love with humans but take changing someone so seriously. But you’re even more surprised to hear him use the word ‘wife.’

“Your wife?” you ask, truly bewildered that word was even in his thoughts. “You said vampirism doesn't make you much prettier?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It doesn’t. But you didn’t need to become prettier anyway.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m telling the truth? Don’t you remember what I told you when I carried you home that night?”

‘You’re a pretty girl, you know?’

Of course you remember, but it doesn’t mean it was true.

You roll your eyes. “You were feeling bad for me.”

“Hm,” Jeongguk looks away, thinking. “Okay, do you remember the very first thing I said to you?”

“That you weren’t going to turn me?”

“For sex, yeah. But I said I’d still fuck you.”

The smile he gives you reminds you more of the vampire that took your blood once every fortnight than the one who saved you. You don’t know what to say, and he seems to realize that, his smile turning softer.

“Like I said, I would’ve fucked you because you were pretty even as a human. Also, about luring said humans in? You will not have a problem with that if that’s something you’re interested in. I kinda want to see you do that, actually,” he grins, sending a shiver down your spine. “Hot.”

Jeongguk is sitting spread out on the rented apartment’s low couch, reading the back of a bottle of red wine when you pass him. It’s hot—a lot warmer than what you’re used to from your little hometown—and you sigh as you open the door to the balconet wider and fresh air starts to play with your dress. The weather doesn’t affect you like it used to, but some aspects are still more enjoyable than others. 

“I think I like Rome,” you place your hands on the railing, looking down at the scene two stories below you. It’s just after ten p.m., and people are dining outside the restaurant below you, their happy chatter accompanied by the romantic sound of street musicians. The air is humid, and besides the moonlight, the street is mainly illuminated by lights from the restaurant and surrounding shops.

You hear Jeongguk put the bottle down on the glass coffee table and stand up, something your human ears wouldn’t have picked up.

“We can stay longer if you want,” he offers quietly from right behind you.

Turning around, you let your gaze travel over his white dress shirt, held together by two single buttons—the rest lazily unbuttoned—and exposing most of his drool-worthy chest. He smirks, looking down at you, and you’re hit by how he hasn’t changed that much since you first met him in that alley. You’ve just gotten to see more sides of him.

You hold your breath, carefully reaching your hand out to pinch the fabric of his shirt between your thumb and index finger, pulling a little on it and nodding.

“Then we’ll stay,” he smiles, slowly stepping back and taking your hand softly in his. His skin feels warm against yours, and it’s almost like some sort of electric current courses through you. You grin as he pulls you toward him, moving to the slow and sensual music drifting up from outside.

Jeongguk lifts your hand above your head and twirls you. It makes you smile even wider, and you decide to place your arms loosely around his neck. He doesn’t object, just looks down at you, still smiling. 

One thing you'll never get used to is how handsome he is. Soft, black hair parted across his forehead, dark eyebrows and eyes, and a dimple that pops out when he smiles. One day, you’ll kiss his nose, you promise yourself. He looks so carefree, peering down at you like nothing else really matters; a mindset not too difficult to follow with him.

“How come everything is so… easy?”

He tilts his head, trying to make sense of your words as he places his hands on your waist. “Well… do you feel cared for?”

You think about it. All the new people—vampires—you’ve met so far are very funny and kind. They see you, and they listen to you. Especially Jeongguk’s friends, and even more so, Jeongguk. He’s easy to be around, and he’s been incredibly sweet to you, understanding that you’re going through a big change and that your previous life wasn’t all that great.

So you nod.

“Do you have anything that worries you?” He continues. “A looming anxiety regarding something?”

“No.” Turns out that Jeongguk and all his friends are filthy rich and also very generous, which means that you have no rent to pay, no stuff to buy, or bills to pay. Nor do you have people to impress or time-sensitive achievements to stress over.

Jeongguk’s smile turns extra cheeky. “Do you perhaps… also care a little bit for someone?”

You’d blush if that was something you could do. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

He chuckles before he turns a little more serious. “Jokes aside, there could be many reasons. Like I said, not feeling lonely or overly anxious surely helps a lot, but also stuff like… the change of scenery and seasons. But also…”

“Also…?”

He looks at you with a searching gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Tell me, did you ever see someone about how you felt?”

You shake your head.

“So you never got a diagnosis or medication?”

“No.”

“Then, maybe… you weren’t ‘only’ sad, and vampirism corrected some chemical imbalance in your brain. It could also explain why things are easier.”

Maybe. You thought that your mother dying was the catalyst for your sadness, and without seeing the point of the world, you got “weirder,” and the few people in your life withdrew. Then it was just you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t connect with people anymore. But maybe, like he said, it wasn’t ‘only’ feelings. A small part of you wishes you would’ve tried to get help, but a bigger part—although sad for the years you spent suffering—thinks this ending might be better.

He continues to sway your bodies, and you rest your head against his chest. When you left with him three months ago, one month after he changed you, you weren’t entirely certain where things would lead, because despite definitely feeling attracted to him, you didn’t really know him. But as the days pass, you don’t regret it, and you’re pretty sure you’re more than halfway to head over heels. You can’t deny that he gives you butterflies.

Sighing, you catch the scent of his naked skin against your cheek, reminded of something.

“You smell good. I remember thinking that you didn’t smell like anything?”

He laughs as you move your face slowly over his chest and up to his neck, smelling him.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing him in and closing your eyes. There’s the same notes of laundry detergent, soap, and cologne, but also something unique to him. He doesn’t smell like a human, but… almost. It draws you in, that’s for certain.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders quietly. 

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. It’s turned out to be harder to tell than you imagined.

“Well, if you want it… go for it.”

“Like this?” you ask, pushing on his chest with a smile. He lets you walk him slowly back toward the couch, and when the back of his knees hit the edge, he sinks down onto it. 

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

High on the vampire equivalent of adrenaline, you straddle his lap, only to be caught off guard by his scent again. “No, but really, you smell so good.”

He chuckles. “Vampires who are more… compatible tend to smell good to each other.”

His revelation has you sitting back, curious but almost a little worried. Despite the details of your relationship being... a bit unclear—mostly due to his unwillingness to pressure you, you think—you can't help but want him to like you. “Does that mean that I smell good to you as well then? I mean, I remember that you didn’t like my blood?”

“You smell incredible to me. Almost addictive,” he reveals quietly, softly, resting his hands on your thighs, and you think your human heart would’ve raced. “And about your blood… I lied.”

Though grinning happily, there’s at least a trace of regret in his eyes.

“You lied? About not liking my blood?”

“Yeah. B is actually one of the more highly regarded blood types. I’m also B, but negative.”

You shake your head at him before carefully leaning in. With a soft touch of your lips, you locate the pulsating artery in his neck, gently angling his head away with your hands. Then, as you’ve done regularly for the last months, you pierce his skin with your fangs.

“I’m kinda surprised you still believed I didn’t like your blood,” he continues, though it sounds a little strained, like he’s trying to keep still. “If I didn’t like your blood, I wouldn’t have needed to change my feeding days to the day before you came. Nor would I have tried to attack you.”

You listen to his words, but you’ll have to process them better later because his blood is pretty much the only thing on your mind. His blood and his body. It took you a few times to get over the mental association with blood and drinking it, but now, it’s not something bad. It tastes and feels good, energizing you in a way food just doesn’t anymore. And it’s a chance to bond, making you feel closer to him. 

He likes it too, if his body language is anything to go by. You know he tries to stay still to give you the best chance to get what you need without distractions, but the little… almost purring sound that reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest is hard to miss. As is the way his hips shift almost unnoticeably, but you haven’t spoken about that.

Being smaller and recently changed, you don’t require nearly as much blood as he does, and as soon as you feel the urge filled, you run your tongue over the wound to close it, just like he’s taught you to.

“Good?” he asks when you pull back, and you nod, licking your lips. 

You keep your eyes on his skin, knowing that it only takes a second for the wound to heal but up to two weeks for the scar from another vampire's teeth to fade to nothing. 

“All of the vampires we’ve met, they’ve looked so… amused when they understand I drink from you. Why is that? I get that it’s ‘intimate’ but they were pretty much all couples, weren’t they? Not that we’re… you know…”

You haven’t spoken about that, either, really.

It confused you, more so since you last week stumbled across a local couple smiling very cheekily when they saw the scar on Jeongguk’s neck that he’d made absolutely no effort to conceal.

He laughs. “It’s because only I have marks.”

You look puzzled. Yeah, sure, but you don’t understand why that would be amusing.

He looks at your confused face and continues. “The fact that you drink from me but not I from you usually means that I’ve submitted to you. That I belong to you. Which is not very common when I’m so much older than you. It’s usually the other way around if anything.”

“Oh,” you exclaim quietly, lifting your hand to your neck. “Should I…? Do you… want to feed from me? Cause I’m not sure that I…”

You don’t like the idea of losing blood. You know that Jeongguk has said that as a vampire, you quite literally can’t run out, but you don’t like it. Thinking about someone biting your neck has images from the night you died flashing before your eyes. You don’t remember much,  but you remember being scared and how much it hurt. Surely, it would be different to let him bite you, but… you don’t know. You can’t help but feel like maybe you should? Don’t you kind of owe it to him?

“I want to, of course I do, but not that badly. I get that it’s an uncomfortable concept for you, so that’s why I haven’t brought it up. If you ever feel comfortable enough, we can try, because it’s very hot, but otherwise, it doesn’t matter.”

You lower your hand, smiling carefully down at him. He runs his hands over your thighs softly.

“So, you’re really just… ancient?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah? You’re literally older than Jesus?”

He rolls his eyes, still smiling.

“Jokes aside, doesn’t it get boring? You were kinda grumpy when I first met you.”

“Truth be told, it does. I’ve seen everything, mostly even many times over. But getting to see everything with you is like getting to experience it for the first time all over again.”

“That’s kinda… cheesy,” you chuckle, but you can’t deny that it makes you feel warm inside. “Yuqi said you probably needed a change of scenery as well.”

“So what if it’s cheesy? It’s true," he grins, and it's your turn to roll your eyes. "And, yeah, she might’ve been right. I guess vampires get lonely too sometimes.”

Although he's still smiling, you can't help but hurt a little, thinking about him feeling lonely too.

“So then, what’s next?" you ask. "When do we leave for Portugal?”

“Depends on when you want to. I’ll just tell Taehyung we’ll meet them later. As for now, you know Fontana di Trevi?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna take a dip?”

“What? Isn’t it pretty shallow? And probably… illegal?”

“What are they gonna do? Stop us?” He smiles a wide, happy smile, his white fangs almost glimmering in the romantically dimmed light.

<previous | next> author's note: i hope you liked it!! please reblog if you did <3<3<3