#slowly dipping my toe back into writing again

[saetoru]

i think taking a break from writing smut for like almost a year has been rly refreshing bc i think it made me stop questioning if my writing is interesting without sex and just write it how i want. and then tbh a part of me has realized i like writing without the sex half the time. it’s nice. it’s fun to explore intimacy in as many non sexual ways as you can

[kyuuviix]

hi lol here more laios content

NSFW - CW //

rough fucking, slight mentions of biting, deep penetration ig, unprotected, overstim !!

afab reader btw !!#*(!";;!?

okay enjoy

you grind your teeth together, molars clenched tight. your feet were steady on their tippy toes, trying to retain your own balance as another slam against your ass makes you reel.

your knees buckle as his dick kisses your womb once again, gaining a sharp whimper in return.

"shhhh, shhh, it's okay..." laios cooed softly against the shell of your ear, both of his arms tightly wrapped over your tummy, hefty balls smacking your puffy pussy lips with each thorough thrust.

your back arched away from him, tears running down your face. his fat tip scrapes against the mushy spot in your hole- your legs pathetically giving out.

"o-oh my-gu-ha!"

your words were turned to gibberish, a thin sheen coating your bruised lips as one of his large hands fanned out over your lower abdomen, pressing down softly.

oh shit.

you could only see white for a solid second, his other hand gripping the fat on your hip to hold you up.

his thrusts stuttered, a crackled whine broke from between his parted lips, tipping his head forward against the crevice of your neck. the heat of his breath coated your skin, hurried whispers following closely.

"mmm, 'm getting close, s-ooo good..."

sandy hair tickled your clammy skin as he perched you up, teeth slowly sinking into your warm flesh.

then, his hand on your stomach pushed down even more, a sloppy squelch following as slick trailed down your inner thighs, and he held still- raising a bicep over your ribs.

you could feel it. your mind was shattering beyond recognition, his cock bottoming out inside of you, twitching endlessly as he filled you to the brim.

it was disgustingly warm. made you feel all cradled and full, head lulled into that dreamy headspace you always ended up in when you two had sex, but this felt different.

the heat was feverish, tingling up your spine as your tears of pure pleasure beaded at your waterline, making you clamp your eyes shut.

you couldn't stop shaking- it felt like your orgasm had stretched out to last hours. you didn't even notice how you two were now cooped up in bed, laios nuzzling into your neck and praising you with sweet nothings.

"you okay?" his voice was still so soft, fingers running over your jawline as your eyes fluttered open.

"did i hurt you anywhere? are you comfortable?"

you responded with as small nod, curling your feet into the sheets. you were floating on cloud 9.

"'m fine," you gave a slight hoarse chuckle, twisting onto your side. "just a bit hungry."

at that, his eyes gave a small gleam, before he took two fingers and dipped them between the mess between your thighs, holding the mixture over your tongue.

"give it a taste, then."

-

idk how i feel bout this one i got a bit uninspired and drabbled this in boredom 😞 okay im probably gonna be a nsfw alphabet with him before i twist around and start writing that prompt up

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[boyfriendstevie]

sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment. 

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so. 

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question. 

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss. 

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite. 

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out. 

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor. 

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips. 

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick. 

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming. 

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?” 

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand. 

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts. 

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.” 

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth. 

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way. 

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement. 

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent. 

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?” 

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve. 

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?” 

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“ 

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name. 

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk. 

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones. 

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts. 

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out. 

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part two

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part two word count: 12.4k

part two warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, me forcing you to read extensive vampire lore, the supernatural elements are ramped up a notch (or, like, eight notches), semi-graphic descriptions and depictions of violence

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: and to absolutely no one’s surprise, I cannot stop talking about vampire heeseung, so this story will be more than two parts. this is not the end. I want to say it will be around 4-5. potentially more. (yay if you’re excited, and my apologies if you’re not.) again, I want to name the sources I used to help me create this: the dark moon webtoon is where lots of the lore comes from, and influences from twilight are also scattered throughout. okay I think that’s it. for now at least… as always, happy reading ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Everything hurts. 

As your consciousness slowly begins to trickle back in, pain is the most prominent sensation. It comes in slow, steady waves. With a certain kind of deep ache. 

Eyes still screwed shut, your brow furrows. The movement only inspires anothing intense wave of throbbing pain that thuds against your temples. 

As senses begin to emerge, you can tell that you’re horizontal. Lying down. The surface beneath you is soft. It dips and curves, gives to the shape of your body. A bed, maybe. 

Delicately, you try moving your right arm. Wiggling your toes. Both are responsive, but there’s a profound soreness sitting deep within your muscle that makes you strain against a whimper from even the tiniest of movements. 

And your throat. It’s so dry. Scraped raw as if someone has taken sandpaper to it. As if you’ve been screaming. 

You inhale deeply, assessing the way air inflates the lungs beneath your ribs. Even there, deep within you, there’s a dull, muted ache. A pain that lingers. As the ensuing exhale leaves your body, you note another sensation. 

The emptiness of your stomach. The deep pangs of hunger that roll like nausea. 

With no small amount of reluctance, you begin the arduous task of opening your eyes. One slow blink that bleeds into another. 

At first, the only thing you see is a vast expanse of white. Blinding light makes you want to squint. Close your eyes again. But it’s nothing but a trick of your own senses. Causes by eyes that have gone unused for an extended period of time. 

Slowly, the space above you begins to take on its true tone. A soft, even light gray that coats the expanse of the ceiling. Turning your head to the side, you ignore the protest of pain from your neck. 

You let your eyes wander for a minute. But as the space around you begins to come into focus, you’re left with more questions than answers. 

Your earlier assertion had been correct. You are lying in a bed. But it’s not the one you’ve grown used to. This isn’t your apartment. 

No, the bedroom around you is an unfamiliar one. But that’s undoubtedly what it is: a bedroom. Threadbare maybe, but with small touches of life. Aside from your current resting place, there’s a desk on the opposite side of the room. A nightstand right next to you. A small lamp that emanate a warm, golden glow. 

Forcing your body into an upright position, you wince at the effort it takes just to sit upright, to maneuver every aching limb into place. 

More details of the room come into focus. A computer monitor and keyboard on the desk. The small stack of books next to it. A record player. A small dresser. Little trinkets of personality, but nothing that serves you now. 

Even through the haze in your sleep-addled mind, you’re sure you’ve never seen any of it before. Why are you here? Where is here?

And why does your body hurt so damn much, nerves under your skin singing like they’ve been wrung out to dry?

The fog in your mind refuses to clear. Soon, another emotion begins to emerge alongside the confusion as the reality of the situation sets in. 

You’re alone. In an unfamiliar room. Hungry as if it’s been days since you’ve eaten. 

Judging from the way your limbs respond to even the most minute of movements, you’re injured. Badly. 

Flexing your left leg again, you wince. Can you even walk right now? 

This is bad. This is very, very bad. 

The beginnings of panic begin to trace your mind. Again, you’re searching the room. This time, however, you focus on memorizing the layout. Finding anything that might be of any use to you, that might help you identify your location. That might help you craft an escape.

Your search turns up two doors, one to your left and one directly across from the foot of the bed. Both are unmarked. Both are pulled shut. 

It’s possible that your panic is premature. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that this was nothing more than the bedroom of a rather minimalistic university student. But if that were the case why did you wake up here alone, head pounding, body aching?

That alone is definitive. Something is very wrong. 

Instinctively, you try to retrace your steps. You must have gotten here somehow. But the more you try to walk back through your memory, the hazier things become. The inside of your mind is like a murky labyrinth, dead ends at every corner. Rearranging and shifting the more you try to focus. 

It’s as if a dense fog has clouded over your ability to think, to recall. No matter how close you get to a memory, you can’t see anything. 

That alone is enough to send another fresh wave of panic straight to your bones. Alone, injured, and you can’t remember any of the events that led you to this strange place. 

Gingerly, you turn your body so that your legs hang off the side of the bed, bare feet resting lightly on the floor. That movement alone requires several of your deep inhales. 

Slowly, you try putting weight on your feet, your legs. It’s not pleasant by any means, but they hold steady. Or at the very least, they don’t buckle beneath you. Aside from the soreness, there’s a distinct fatigue in your extremities. One that gives them a slight shake the longer you try to stand. 

You doubt you can run, but at least you’re not completely immobile. Maybe, given enough adrenaline, you can walk. Crawl. 

But now you’re faced with another dilemma. Two doors. Two points of entry, two potential routes to escape. Or two paths to further danger. Trapped in a windowless room, you have no way of knowing which of your two choices, if any, is better. 

But you can’t just stay here. Backed into a corner, practically a sitting duck. Eyes darting between the two doors, you steel yourself for the inevitable flash of pain fully standing will inevitably cause. 

The door to the left of the bed. The door at the foot of the bed. 

Just as you’ve decided to veer to the right, muscles tensing in anticipation, a knock rings out. Your breath catches in your throat, panic reaching its peak as your heart beats a furious rhythm in your chest. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go.One rap against the door to your left. Two. Three. 

You won’t make it to the other door in time. Not on your legs. 

There’s a moment of suspended silence. And then, the door is opening. 

Instinctively, you push yourself backwards on the bed., trying to put as much space as physically possible between you and the stranger that enters. 

And a stranger he certainly is. With a tentative sort of slowness, a boy peers around the edge of the door, squinting in the low light. 

When he sees that you’re upright, he pushes into the room fully, closing the door quietly behind him. The glimpse you get over his shoulder doesn’t reveal much. Another room, maybe, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain. 

“You’re awake,” he nods, more to himself than anything. “I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

Back pressed against the wall, you have nowhere left to go. Still hunched as if that will do anything to protect you, you stare at the boy in front of you. 

Maybe, you think. Maybe you could move fast enough to grab the lamp from the nightstand before he realizes what’s happening. Could use it as some sort of weapon, some meager means of self-defense. 

“Who are you?” Your throat is scraped raw. It hurts to speak, to think, to do much of anything. “Where am I?”

“Oh.” The boy pauses for a moment. For the first time since he entered, he stops to look at you. Really look at you. The extent of the terror that’s embedded in your features, written in the positioning of your body. 

Immediately, he stops in his tracks. Retreats a few steps until he’s back at the far edge of the room, just in front of the door he entered from. “Sorry, I guess it was probably quite the shock to wake up here. My name is Jake. You’re in our…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Well, our home, I suppose.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Chest still rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even your breathing. You can still feel your pulse in your neck. 

If the situation weren't so disorienting, so terrifyingly confusing, you might be mildly amused by the almost… sheepish look that crosses his features. Where he avoids eye contact with you from the doorframe, this boy certainly doesn’t look like a threat. 

If you had to guess, you’d say that he — Jake — is around your age. With dark hair that falls across his forehead and wide, dark eyes, he has a distinct sort of beauty that almost reminds you of… 

Suddenly, in the confines of your missing memories, you’re grasping at straws again. 

“Specifically,” Jake adds, realizing the information might be pertinent to you, “this is Heeseung’s room.”

Heeseung. You know that name. You think it’s the one you were searching for. 

Heeseung. 

It sparks something. A flicker of a memory. A ghost of the answers you seek. 

You feel like you’re on the verge of a revelation when you ask, “Where is he? Heeseung?”

Jake’s expression betrays no surprise. He’d expected you to ask him that, you realize. It does, however, suddenly appear a bit more guarded. “He’s recovering. That poison he got out of you really did a number on him.”

For a moment, his words do nothing but reverberate in your aching skull. And then—

“Poison?”

Jake just looks at you for a second, brow pulling down in confusion as if you’re the strange one in this situation. As if poison and Heeseung’s apparent removal of it should already be old news. Then, a flicker of realization crosses his features. His brow softens. 

“That’s right,” he mumbles. Again, it seems more for his benefit than yours. “I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

Moonflower? In humans? 

“Memory loss?”

“It’s only temporary,” Jake says, as if that’s enough to make everything better. “Everything will start to come back soon, I’m sure.” He pauses, frowning. A flicker of sympathy enters his gaze. “I feel like I should warn you, though. Judging from the way you and Heeseung came in here a couple of nights ago, it might be a lot to take in all at once when they do.”

A couple of nights ago. Which means—

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Just over two days. It’s Friday night now. Almost midnight.” While the shock of that settles into your system, Jake continues, “Which reminds me, I brought you some things I thought you might need.”

He turns away from you, opening the door. When he closes it behind him again, he now has two bags in his hand. Carefully, like one might approach a wounded animal, he takes slow footsteps towards you. 

Setting the bags down next to the nightstand, he explains, “This one has water and food. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so feel free to have whatever, and let us know if there’s anything else you want.”

Looking at the second bag, he adds, “I also brought you some clothes. We didn’t really have anything for a girl here. I mean, Sunghoon had a couple of things, but I didn’t really think you’d want them. Sunoo and Niki went out and got some stuff. I’m sure they did their best, but, uh,” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “No promises.”

Jake nods towards the dresser that sits by the desk. “If you hate everything, you can also look through whatever Heeseung has in there. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.”

That name again. Heeseung. There’s nothing solid in your memory, but heat finds itself on your cheekbones anyway. The thought of wearing his clothes just feels like something that should warrant that reaction, even if you’re not sure why. 

“There’s also a bathroom through that door.” Jake jerks his chin towards the door across from the foot of the bed. And maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have enough time to craft an escape through there, you think. This conversation might have been significantly more awkward in a bathroom. “Feel free to use anything in there, including the shower, if you want. There should be clean towels in the bottom drawer.”

He takes another long look at you, that same sympathy from earlier coloring his gaze. It feels weighted, heavy. As if he’s forseen some great tragedy you’re not yet privy too. As if he knows something you don’t. “I’m sure you have a million questions, but I think you’ll feel better with some food and water in you.” He nods towards the bags he set close to you. “And a fresh change of clothes.” 

He’s probably right. With the urgency of your former panic subsiding, you still don’t feel at ease. But neither fight nor flight seem like appropriate responses to this situation. Which leaves you stuck with a third one: reluctant trust. 

As you make your peace with it, something begins to press at the fog in your mind. It swirls, collects as if being pressed against a glass window. Your memories are still evasive, but there’s something there, in that haze. Syllables stuck on a loop, a constant repetition that begs your attention. 

Heeseung. 

There’s a sudden urgency in your gut. The distinct feeling that things will start to make sense again if you can just see him, talk to him. Jake said that he’s recovering. From poison. But you don’t know what that means, don’t understand what kind of gravity it might hold. 

Vague sentiments conveyed through a messenger are hardly enough to satisfy the tugging in your mind. 

So you ask, “Can I see him? Heeseung?”

Something flickers across Jake’s gaze, too fast for you to catch it fully. Concern maybe. A premonition of fear. Still, he says, “He’s okay. I promise. You’ll be able to see him soon.” For a moment, Jake falls into silence, weighing words on his tongue like he can’t decide if he should share them or not. “But he’s not really in the best shape for visitors right now. Take care of you first, and then we can talk more if you want. And when you’re both ready, you can see Heeseung, too.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer, but Jake holds the cards here. You have nothing to leverage, nothing to bargain. 

Before he leaves, he reiterates, “I’m sure that your memories will start to come back soon. Like I said, it might be a lot all at once. I’ll let you eat and get changed, if you want. The door locks.” He nods to the door handle. “So does the one on the bathroom door. And please, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just outside.”

Gently, Jake opens the door, pulls it shut behind him. And then you’re alone again. 

Gone is the frantic terror you awoke with, and left in its wake is a gentler sort of fear. A deep sense of unease that refuses to fade. 

Pushing it aside for now, you attend to your baser needs. Heeding Jake’s advice, you retrieve the first bag he left for you, pulling it up onto the bed. 

The first thing you see is a bottle of water. You make quick work of pulling it out, removing the cap, and taking a long sip. It’s cool, refreshing. Soothes your aching throat before settling heavily at the bottom of your empty stomach. 

Taking another handful of gulps, you replace the cap before setting it on the nightstand. Opening the bag further, you reveal its other contents. 

It’s possibly the strangest assortment of food that you’ve ever seen. Frowning in confusion, you take stock of what you’ve been given. It just gets weirder the more you look at it. It’s as if Jake went to the grocery store and just grabbed the first thing he saw in every aisle with no regard for how they would fit together. As if he hasn’t made himself a meal since the day he was born. 

The first thing you pull out is a box of dry pasta, completely inedible without cooking utensils you currently have no access to. Jake did say you could ask him for anything, but even boiling water has a way of feeling like an insurmountable task in your current state. You move on. 

What follows is hardly better. There’s a singular, unripe avocado, an entire family sized bag of clementine oranges, three boxes of breakfast cereal, a loaf of bread, and — you pause a moment to count — eight different kinds of granola bars. 

Pushing past the strangeness, you figure you don’t need a Michelin star meal to ease the hunger. For now, you decide that one of the granola bars and a clementine look the most appetizing. 

After a few minutes, the blunt edges of hunger lose their sharpness. But even with a bit of food in your system, the nausea hold steady. 

Mind addled, you curse yourself for not asking him the most obvious question. What the hell happened to you? 

But he did say your memories should be coming back soon, and you decide you’ll just have to trust in that for now. 

Next, you reach for the bag of clothes. You didn’t think it was possible, but it somehow manages to be even stranger than the food. 

To your shoppers’ credit, they are girls’ clothes, yes, but it seems that was the only criteria for selection. It’s the dead of winter, and the first two things you pull out are a pair of denim shorts and a sundress. Frowning, you refold them both, placing them back in the bag. At least they still have their tags. Hopefully the two boys Jake mentioned kept their receipt. 

That leaves you with your other option. Glancing over at the dresser, his dresser, you’re at an impasse. 

Even with gaping holes in your memory, it feels invasive, far too intimate to look through his things. To go through his clothes until you find something that suits you. To wear it without his permission. 

Taking a sidelong glance at the pair of denim shorts, you decide you don’t have all that much pride left to barter, anyway. After all, you work up disoriented, weak, and missing all of your memories in the boy’s bed. What’s a spare change of clothes in comparison with that?

As you gingerly pad your way to the dresser, you decide it feels less like snooping if you only reach for what’s on top. Luck is on your side. The first thing you see when you open the top drawer is a sweatshirt and matching pair of sweatpants, both of which are ridiculously soft. 

Stolen goods in tow, you continue towards the bathroom door. Pulling it closed behind you, you see that Jake was telling the truth. The lock slides into place with a small click.  

Like his bedroom, Heeseung’s bathroom is fairly nondescript. Devoid of decor, it holds what he needs and little else. Opening the bottom drawer of the vanity, you find a clean towel and set it down on the counter, next to the clothes. 

Lifting your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. It’s enough to have you double take. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The tangled mess of hair and dark circles of exhaustion beneath your eyes are things you could forgive. Two days of straight sleep is enough to wreak at least a little havoc on anyone. 

But that’s not what has your reflection freezing. 

Delicately, as if the truth will somehow be less awful if revealed slowly, you tilt your head to the side. Pull your hair away, tuck it behind your ear. Expose the dark, mottled assortment of discolored marks that extend all the way from your jaw to the base of your neck. 

Bruises. Deep, dark bruises. 

And on top of them, uneven, flaky patches of multicolored crimson. Dried blood, you realize as your stomach gives a sickening lurch. 

Is it yours? Heeseung’s? Someone else’s? 

The fog in your mind suddenly feels like an enclosure. Holding you hostage and dangling your forgotten memories just out of reach. Trapping you in the darkness and offering no way out, no way through. Just a dim candle against the vast, midnight darkness of terror. 

You’re too wrung out to cry, too confused to so much as gasp. As reality unfolds, devastation seems to be the norm, not the exception. Even if your throat weren’t raw, you’re not sure you’d scream. 

With trepidation, you raise a hand, watching the way your fingers tremble in your reflection. And then your run a gentle touch over the evidence of destruction, a war waged on your skin. Once it nears your jaw, you feel something. A small bump that has you hissing at the contact. 

Leaning forward, you examine it closer. It’s a tiny wound, barely perceptible. It reminds you of a vaccination at the doctor’s office. Neat, sterile. 

Enough to be confusing, yes. Arguably even concerning. But it’s not what has you reeling. 

Because around the tiny mark are two more puncture wounds. Perfectly circular still, but decidedly larger. Rougher. Deeper. They’re embedded into your skin on either side of the smaller wound. And if you didn’t know any better, if your mind had any more capacity for the impossible, you’d almost think they look like…

You’d almost think they look like bite marks. 

The longer you stare, the more sinister they appear. The more hopelessly horrified you feel. What happened to you? Why does the side of your neck look like a watercolor painting of violets? Why does it look like you’ve been bitten?

If this is what you look like, what kind of state is Heeseung in? Jake said it himself that he’s in no condition for visitors. 

What if he’s not recovering as well as Jake said? What if it’s your fault—?

No. You won’t let yourself spiral there. 

Memories, you just need your memories. 

Which means you just need a little more time. 

The shower, to your relief, has plenty of hot water to spare. For long minutes, you just stand there, letting it pour over you, your skin, your aching muscles. As water seeps through the drain, it carries some of your tension with it.

You watch as the water that circles the drain runs red before it clears again, blood washed away from your skin.

It’s instinct, mostly. The desire to confirm what you already know, that has you retracing the strange marks on your neck. 

A hiss of pain is the only thing that ensues in response at first. But then something else comes. 

A flicker of a memory. 

A strange place, a dark room. 

New Haven. The publishing house. Because you had gone there to meet Professor Kim, to show him your draft, to see the space you’d won an internship in. 

It’s coming back now, in fragments. 

There had been something strange, though. It was dark when you arrived. Dark and empty and quiet until—

Until suddenly it wasn’t. Until Heeseung was there with you.

Warm water traces steady lines on your skin. Your memory reappears in tangled, discombobulated jumbles. Things clicking into place as you do your best to sort them chronologically. 

Heeseung was there, but he wasn’t supposed to be. You had gone there to see Professor Kim. Why wasn’t he—?

The sudden flash of memory is sickening. Has another bout of nausea threatening the contents of your stomach. 

It all comes back, all at once. Replaying like a nightmare, like a scene plucked from a horror film. 

Blood dripping from your professor’s mouth. Clothes tattered on his body. Heeseung shielding you, protecting you. 

But Professor Kim wasn’t himself. He wasn’t right. He threw something at you. Something that hit you right where he intended. 

Without your permission, your fingers are back on the slippery skin of your neck. The blood is gone, but the wound remains just the same. The wound that Professor Kim gave to you. 

You remember the feeling of floating, of being distant from your body, removed from reality. Mind on some other plane of existence. 

You remember gentle, insistent, desperate hands on your waist. Your jaw. Your forehead. 

Heeseung, bent over you, consuming your limited plane of vision as your eyelids became too heavy to remain open. 

Pain in your neck. Sharp at first. Then dull, numbing. 

Heeseung. Heeseung bit you. Held you in his arms as consciousness drained from your body along with your blood. 

Poison, Jake had called it. ‘Poison he got out of you.’

It’s all so strange. They’re your memories, yes, and you’re sure of them, but why was there poison in your neck? Why was biting you the solution? How did his teeth leave such perfectly circular marks on—?

The final puzzle piece clicks into place. 

Vampire attacks. You had been worried about Heeseung, relieved to see him safe and sound at New Haven. Because you had just read about vampire attacks. 

Robotically, you turn the water off. Step out of the shower, wrap a towel around your body. 

His clothes are soft against your skin. 

Heeseung saved you. Of that, you’re sure. But what about the three people at the river? The three victims of a vampire attack?

It can’t be true. It can’t. You don’t know him, not really, but he’s just… Heeseung. 

An annoyingly competent poet and a massive pain in your ass. Someone that walks you home when you stay too late in the library. Someone that calls your writing awful when it is, when you need a cold, hard reality check. 

He’s… he’s just Heeseung. He’s not a—

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the thought. 

But your memories are back, and there’s a alertness to your mind that only sharpens as the fog clears. 

At the edge of your mind, Jake’s voice replays. Something you glossed over in your confusion, something you fixate on now. 

“I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

“I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

The strange assortment of food. Jake’s undeniable, uncanny beauty. The kind you’ve only ever seen in one other person. 

Jake was right. You do feel a bit better with food and water in your stomach. With the last three days of horror washed off of your skin. But your mind is alert now. The memories are coming back. Puzzle pieces rearranging and clicking into place with alarming accuracy. 

And as the dust settles, you’re suddenly very, very afraid of the reality that greets you. 

In your mind, the facts play on a loop. 

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how to leave. Jake has been nothing but kind, but if he so wished, you’re sure he could overpower you easily. And he insinuated that he’s not the only one here. 

You need answers. You need to leave. But Heeseung…

You have to know. 

Is the boy you’ve been trying to outwrite for months, the boy you shared a moment under a moonlit sky with, is he a… a vampire?

Why was he at New Haven that day? Did he know about Professor Kim? Did he know about the deaths at the river? Was he complicit in them? Was he responsible for them?

Clothed in determination and a fleeting moment of bravery, you undo the lock on the bathroom door, passing through the bedroom, his bedroom, on furious footsteps. The second door opens just as easily as the bathroom had, and suddenly, you’re in the room you caught just a glimpse of before. A living room, of sorts. Some sort of common area. 

True to his earlier word, Jake sits nearby. Planted on a navy sofa, he looks up when you enter. “How are you feeling? Do you need any—”

Manners are the last thing on your mind when you interrupt him mid-sentence. “What are you?” Not ‘who are you.’ That won’t give you the answer you seek. The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Jake’s mouth falls shut, presses into a line. Hesitation paints his features. “I don’t think this is the best—”

You won’t hear it. “What are you?”

Jake holds up his palms in surrender. “Your memories are starting to come back, I take it. Look, we can explain everything, just—”

On the far end of the room, another door opens. Another boy enters. Just like Heeseung, just like Jake, he’s beautiful. Moves with that same unnatural grace that you used to admire when you thought no one would notice. Now, it has another surge of nausea rolling in your stomach. 

Jake glances at the new arrival. He sighs. “This isn’t really a good time, Sunghoon. Why don’t you—”

The boy, Sunghoon, never hears Jake’s suggestion. Instead, he cuts him off. And once again, your world is spinning. 

“He’s back.”

…..

You are the last to enter the strange room. On the heels of Jake and Sunghoon, despite the former’s insistence that you wait and see him later, you take in your surroundings. 

Odd enough was the long, winding hallway that led you here, but this is even stranger. Instead of a proper door, the room is guarded by long, thick metal bars. They stand ajar now but bear a rather impressive lock. You have the distinct impression that this place was designed to keep people out. Or maybe rather to keep someone in. 

You hear him before you see him. Memories recovered, the sound of his voice is something you’re well attuned to, even if it flickers with a strong tone of annoyance. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I told you, it’s a ridiculously strong sedative at its core. We’ll react strangely, yes, but it’s not the same as bloodlust—”

“Still,” another voice argues. “We all saw how she looked when you brought her in. You had to have drank a considerable amount—”

“I told you I’m fine, Jungwon,” Heeseung counters. “Do I look out of control to you? Would I be sitting here having this conversation with you if I was?”

“Fine.” It’s the same voice. Jungwon. “If you’re alive and well, then maybe you can answer my question. What were you doing at New Haven? Do you know how long we’ve—”

It’s probably stupid, shoving past people in their own home. People that you suspect are dangerous, that might not really be people at all. But you have to see him. You have to know. 

Once you finally get around Sunghoon, your view of the room opens up. Sparsely decorated, dimly lit, and there are four other boys you don’t recognize. You pay them no attention. 

Because in the middle of it all stands Heeseung. Maybe, if you squint, you could argue that he looks a little worse for wear. There’s a pink flush under his eyes, a slight disarray to his usually perfect hair, but other than that, he paints the perfect, untouchable picture he always has. 

At the commotion of your sudden movement, all eyes in the room turn from Heeseung and land squarely on you. For a moment, seven gazes just look at you. All of them are blank. Lost. Out of depth. 

All except for the one you match. 

Where he stands, Heeseung stares at you with an intensity you’ve only seen once before. In a moment you wish you could forget. In a fragmented memory you already know you’re cursed to carry forever. 

Slowly, his eyes scan the length of your body, something in his jaw tightening when he notes the clothes you’re wearing. His clothes. 

Jungwon is still pressing him for answers. Heeseung doesn’t bother to provide any. 

Instead, he says, “Give us a minute.”

He’s still looking at you. Frozen in place, his eyes trace the line of your neck, ghosting over the array of bruises, the twin wounds he left there. His voice betrays no emotion, but his eyes flash with something that looks all too much like regret, shame. 

Jungwon balks for a moment. “No, I’m not giving you a minute. You could have jeopardized everything we’ve been working towards—”

Heeseung does break eye contact with you then. Turning to the boy that stands next to him, he says, “What’s done is done, Jungwon. A few more minutes won’t change that. You can shout at me some more in a minute.”

“Ouch.” A boy that you don’t recognize winces. 

“Right?” another one of the strangers agrees. “A pretty human over five hundred years of brotherhood.” He shakes his head. “I’d expect that from Sunghoon, maybe, but—”

Behind you, Jake sighs. “Is this really the time, you two?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees, arms crossing his chest as he pouts. “And I take offense to that, you know. I would not put all of your hard work in danger for a human.” Sunghoon takes a sidelong glance at you. “No offense.”

“Just give us a minute,” Heeseung repeats again, more command in his voice this time as he slides a palm through his hair in frustration. “Please. All of you.”

There’s enough authority in his voice time. Or maybe enough pleading. Whatever it is, the rest of the room files out, one by one. Even Jungwon, although he does cast one final, warning look over his shoulder. 

It’s lost on Heeseung, who has already turned his attention back to you. “Are you okay?” 

An echo of the past, a reminder of why you’re here. Of why your throat threatens to close up now, just looking at him.  

Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how you’d answer him. Physically, you’re sore. Tired even though you’ve been sleeping for days. Temporary aches. Things that will heal with rest and time. 

Mentally, though… Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. Even now, face to face with him, you can’t reconcile all of the pieces of Heeseung you’ve gathered. 

Indifferent student. Brilliant writer. Honest reviewer. Maybe even a friend. 

Vampire. 

You don’t know what to make of him. You don’t know how to piece him together. 

He’s here, standing in front of you. You used to stare at the back of his head during lectures. Used to fantasize about him giving you a minute of his time. 

And now, it’s just the two of you. Alone. His eyes search your face, his focus consumed by you. And he’s never felt further away. 

You don't answer his question. Instead, you ask one of your own. 

“What’s going on?” Your voice is small, holds none of the command you wish it could. “And don’t… don’t you dare lie to me.”

Across from you, Heeseung exhales. There’s a distinct sorrow in his eyes. “I won’t. But it’s a long story. And there are parts of it I’m not sure you’ll like.”

“I don’t care.” But you do, so much that it hurts. You almost wish you were still begging for scraps of his attention. At least then, you knew where you stood. “I want the truth.” That much, at least, is honest. 

Heeseung nods, as if any of this is simple. “Then you’ll have it.”

A beat of silence passes. You remember the question you had asked Jake less than an hour ago. What are you? You can’t quite bring yourself to ask it now. Not with everything that has passed between you. Not when it feels like more of an accusation than an inquiry. 

You wear his wounds on your skin. You don’t know why you still want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, you ask, “Who are you?” The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Heeseung doesn’t smile, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’m not undercover. My name is Heeseung.” The flicker of amusement dies. He knows what you’re really asking him. He knows it’s not an easy answer to give, not an easy truth to receive. “But I’m… different. I was born with a strange ability.”

You breathe. “What kind of ability?”

Heeseung looks down at his hands. Studies them for a moment before turning back to you. “It would be easier to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Instinctively, your hand finds the wound on your neck. 

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “That’s not the ability I’m referring to.” 

There’s a chair in the room, just behind him. He walks to it and sits down at the edge, knees wide. “Come here.”

You shouldn’t. You should stay as far away as space allows. You shouldn’t let him do anything. In every sense of the word, he holds the advantage here. You’re in his home. He has knowledge you don’t. The only thing you have left to leverage is the distance between you and your decision to maintain it. 

But every inch between you was doomed to be a losing battle. Steady, slow footsteps erase the distance between you as you come to stand directly in front of him. 

At this angle, with your positioning, he’s forced to look up at you. Chin lifted, he whispers, “Hold out your hand.”

You could try to fight. You could question him. You don’t. Resistance was always going to be futile. In no time at all, your hand is outstretched. 

Once again, Heeseung studies his own fingers. A shudder traces the length of his spine. Hesitation spills from every minute movement, every microexpression you’re allowed. It’s straining him, you realize. This ability is not something he’s excited to share. 

You can’t decide if that eases your worry or increases it tenfold. 

But after another wasted moment, his right hand reaches out to encircle the skin of your left wrist. For a few stilted heartbeats, it’s just the two of you in a strange room, a cage of sorts, your wrist cradled in his loose grip. 

Then, your vision begins to flicker. At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Something lingering side effect of a long sleep as everything begins to go out of focus. 

But as the room around you fades, something takes its place. It takes a moment to manifest completely, for your eyes to adjust. 

In front of you, Heeseung still sits in his chair, gaze trained on your wide eyes. But the two of you are no longer in the small, threadbare room. Instead, you stand in an open field, freckled with wildflowers and teeming with butterflies. Above you, the sky is blue and vast, the late summer sun casting a vibrant glow over everything. 

In your shock, you nearly wrench your arm out of Heeseung’s grip. He senses the movement, tightens his fingers around your wrist before you can pull away. 

“Sorry.” He glances at where you two are touching. “It’s better not to break contact once you’re in. It’s quite disorienting if you do. And it will give you awful motion sickness.”

Once you’re in where? Turning your head, you look for something, anything, that makes even the tiniest bit of sense. But all you see is grass. The vast expanse of an open field that only ends where it meets the sky. 

“Where are we?”

“Still in the same room,” Heeseung says. “Physically, at least.” He takes a deep breath. “This is the ability I referred to. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but I can… project my consciousness, I guess. As long as we maintain physical contact, I can show you things from my mind. Memories, visions, anything I dream up. What you see now is the field where I discovered my ability, actually. A friend and I were playing here. I was ten.” He pauses, looks at you. “The year was 1534.”

The full weight of his words barely has time to settle before the vision is morphing, the scene changing into another. 

“It’s difficult to know where to start, but I suppose the beginning is as good a place as any. In the Kingdom of Celedis,” he narrates, “there were eight noble families that had been feuding with each other for over a century. As a result of their petty infighting, the common people suffered. There was constant strife throughout the kingdom. Pains that caused immense suffering but left the nobles untouched. There were frequent blockades, limits on trading, restricted movement, and nasty skirmishes along the borders. Petty crime ran rampant, unchecked. People weren’t safe anywhere, not even in their homes.”

You see it just as he imagines it. Tired, hungry, exhausted people. Mistreated and left to the whims of whatever best suited the nobles’ current desires. 

And the rulers, the nobles themselves. Eight men, adorned in finery, showered with gifts and praise and fine wines while the people just outside the walls of their ornate homes suffered just to survive, starving to death while they gorged themselves on luxury. 

You wouldn’t consider yourself an expert in history, and it’s not like the scenario is exactly uncommon, but you still find it strange that you’ve never heard of this place, not even in passing. 

“Celedis?” You frown. 

“It’s been erased now,” is all Heeseung says. “From both existence and memory. But it was real, a long time ago. And it was where I was born.”

Again, the scene around you starts to take on that odd, unfocused quality. It’s changing again. By now, you almost feel accustomed to the way images and light start to distort as one vision bleeds into another. 

“Celedis was a strange kingdom,” Heeseung continues. “Full of old magic. Ancient rituals and rites that faded from most places but held true there. The land was, in many ways, just as alive as you and I. And it grew weary of seeing its people suffer.”

You see a man now, dressed in simple clothes, tucked in the back corner of what appears to be a shop. He’s surrounded by crystals, trinkets, and old, leather-bound books. 

“One night, the eight noble lords received a message from a seer, one that claimed to communicate with the land, to speak for Celedis as its messenger. The seer told them that the old magic of the land would grant them a single wish on one condition: There had to be peace in the kingdom by the night of the blood moon. A night that comes only once every hundred years. When the moon itself shines bright red.  

“Seven of the lords, eager to have a wish granted, did as the seer advised. They ceased their fighting, recalled their troops. Began to support and protect their people once again. The eighth lord, however, did not.”

After a moment, you’re plunged into darkness. Above you, the night sky of Heeseung’s mind twinkles with distant stars and a distinct, crimson red moon. Seven men, all dressed in finery, stand around an oak tree. The rules of Heeseung’s ability don’t seem to be governed by the laws of physics. You watch as an eighth man appears, seemingly out of thin air. The same man from the crystal shop. 

“The seven who heeded the seer’s advice gathered on the night of the blood moon to pass along their wish — they wanted their bloodlines to endure forever. 

“The seer passed this message along, but old magic is a fickle thing. You have to be precise with your words, or things will be lost in translation. Interpreted in strange ways.”

Now, you stand in a nursery. There’s a crib in the corner. A pregnant woman bends over it, singing a soft lullaby. 

“Within the year, each of the seven noble lords gave birth to a son. They took this with great joy, a sign that their wish had come true. Before the year reached its end, each of the seven had procured a strong, healthy heir to succeed them.”

Suddenly, you’re back in the endless field from before, watching two young boys play in the distance. 

“But these were no ordinary sons. And around the age of ten, each of them revealed a special ability, a supernatural gift.” 

The two boys are playing a game, you realize. You can’t decipher the rules, but you watch as they throw their heads back in a burst of carefree laughter. The first young boy grabs his friend by the wrist. A harmless gesture. A meaningless touch. 

The second boy recoils as if he’s been burned. Hand back at his side, he doubles over in pain, emptying the contents of his stomach. 

In front of you, Heeseung looks away. 

In the distance, another version of Heeseung apologizes profusely as the other child turns his back. 

He changes the scene before you can watch any further. 

You’re in a bedroom now, watching a young man put on a jacket. It’s startling, almost, how similar he looks. The two of you watch as Heeseung, because it is undoubtedly him, pulls the jacket over his back, slides his arms through the sleeves. 

The resemblance is so uncanny that the only thing that sets this Heeseung apart, really, is the style of his clothing. The coat that obviously belongs to another century, lost to time. 

“And once each son reached their twenty-first birthday,” Heesung says. “They stopped aging.”

Heeseung and his jacket dissolve, change into something else. The new scene you look out upon is somber. Heeseung is there again, this time dressed in all black. The clothes of a mourner. Aside from that, he looks exactly the same. 

Then you see the casket. The portrait standing next to it. It’s her, you realize. The woman from the nursery, the one who hummed the lullaby. Much, much older though. Fifty years older. Maybe sixty. 

You look at this vision’s Heeseung again. He hasn’t aged a day. Still the epitome of youth, even as he mourns the death of his mother. 

“This was the interpretation of the wish, how it was warped through old magic. The bloodline would endure forever, because each son that had been born in the year of the blood moon was born immortal. But by doing so, the seven lords’ wish had also effectively ended their bloodline. Their sons would never grow old, never bear children. And none were ever given a sibling. 

“The eighth lord, the one that did not agree to peace and therefore did not receive a wish, had not yet foreseen this tragedy. He didn’t understand the implications of immortality, the terrible burden it brings. All he saw was an opportunity that he had lost. In his eyes, it had been stolen.”

You watch as the eighth lord bangs on the door of the crystal shop, face red, fury obvious in every inch of his visage. 

“When he discovered the nature of the gift the other lords had been given, the eighth became enraged. He went to the seer and demanded that he pass along his wish to the old magic of the land. That his son, born as an ordinary human, would also be given the gift of immortality.”

In front of you, the lord lunges at the seer, rage in his eyes. The seer raises his hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. 

“The seer pleaded with the lord. He tried to explain that he had no way of passing his request along. That the ability to communicate with old magic was not something he could do whenever he so pleased.”

The scene changes, the seer and his shop disappearing. Again, you see the oak tree. This time, though, it is only the eighth lord that stands before it. His eyes are sunken, shaded with deep, dark shadows. A mad desperation is painted across his features. 

“After murdering the seer for his insolence, the eighth lord went to the oak tree, a place rumored to be full of old magic. He wished for his son to become like the other seven sons, and he gave the seer’s blood as an offering.” 

The scene morphs again, fading until you’re surrounded by the ghastliest thing you’ve seen yet. You and Heeseung are in a small room. In the center, there’s an ornate dining table adorned with expensive cutlery and fine china. Lined with a lacy white tablecloth. 

And blood. The room, the tablecloth, the plates, are covered in dark, red blood. 

“There was one last thing that the eighth lord did not yet understand about immortality. About the other seven sons.”

One by one, you watch as they appear. 

Jake. Sunghoon. Jungwon. The others whose names you do not yet know. Heeseung.

Their mouths, clothes, faces, are all covered in it, dripping with it. Blood. 

“The old magic, above all, favors balance. In exchange for eternal life, it deemed that the only thing capable of sustaining it would be the life of others. Their blood. Once a year, on the anniversary of the day the seven noble lords cast their selfish wish, their seven sons would need to feed. To consume blood. This would sustain them for the rest of the year. They did not need to eat, drink, or sleep on any other day.

“But that one day, every year, they would always need blood.”

The horror of the bloody dining room fades. Now, you see the eighth son. Your eyes widen in fear as the image continues to develop in front of you, one ghastly scene traded for another. He is in a throne room, back bent unnaturally, a predatory glint in his eyes. Blood covers his mouth, his jaw. And as he rises to his full height, the rest of the horror is unveiled. 

He stands above the pale, drained, lifeless body of his father. 

“As I said before, old magic is a fickle thing. It listened to the eighth lord’s request that his son ‘become like the other seven sons,’ but not everything was the same. He was granted immortality, yes, and he also needed to consume blood to sustain himself. Unlike the original seven, he needed to feed frequently. Consume blood often. If he didn’t, the urges would drive him mad. Send him into a frenzy. 

“It was in such a state that he killed his own father. Murdered the rest of his family and every other living soul he found in the castle.”

You now stand in the dim light of a castle corridor. Beams of moonlight cast a cool glow as a soft breeze rustles tree branches just outside the window. It’s quiet, eerily so. In front of you, a person lies motionless. The wound on their neck matches yours, but instead of bruising, it’s surrounded by fresh blood. 

You watch in silent horror as the eighth son’s victim begins to twitch. At first, it’s just the fingers of their left hand. A spasm that shakes their shoulder. And then their mouth opens, face contorted in agony as they let out a long, blood curdling scream. 

Heeseung spares you the burden of hearing it.

“One of his victims, however, he did not drain fully of blood. Lost to his instinct, he had gorged himself so full that he could drink no more. This human, nearly dead, began to transform. And after long hours of acute agony, turned into a vampire of the same nature as the eighth son. Uncontrollable. Frenzied. And full of bloodlust.”

It reminds you of a montage, the scene that plays next. Still standing in front of Heeseung, your wrist still between his fingers, you watch as villages appear and fade. Families, lovers, children running in fear as the domino effect begins to take place. As one vampire becomes ten. As they fall into bloodlust, leaving a bloody path in their wake. 

The image of a young woman, mouth agape and features frozen in terror, remains imprinted on the backs of your eyelids as the small, dark room of Heeseung’s home comes back into view. As the last of the illusion fades, he releases his grip, freeing you from his ability. 

Your arm falls limply to your side. 

“For years,” he tells you, and there’s no image to accompany his words now. Nowhere to look but his eyes. “We just existed. Tried to carve meaning into our lives, tried to find a reason to keep living once it became apparent that was never something we would need to fight for. 

“But terror continued to reign. Vampire populations continued to spread and after three hundred long years of acting only in our own self-interest, we decided to intervene. To help the human effort to eradicate vampirism and the blight it had become. 

“But we never wanted to become judge, jury, or executioner. And playing god was never something we found pleasure in. We let many live. Vampires that demonstrated restraint, that chose to live far away from humans. Vampires that we came across on days we were tired of killing. Of being monsters.”

His words hang heavy between you. Was it a mistake, not finishing the job? Was it mercy?

“Professor Kim is what brought us here, actually. He has an unnaturally high level of control over his instincts. One we’ve never seen from a descendent of the eighth son.”

You inhale, more pieces beginning to fall into place. “So you enrolled in his course—”

“With the intention of winning the internship, yes,” he confirms. “Of getting a chance to study him up close.” 

Heeseung smiles wryly. “You were quite the pain at first, actually. After those first few days of class, I wasn’t so sure I could outwrite you.”

You have no idea what to say to that. An apology feels strange, but he’s just told you that you essentially foiled a grand plan to reduce the threat of vampires, to better understand their nature. “I…”

Heeseung pushes on, “It didn’t end up mattering, though.” He frowns. “The last day of the semester, the day I was late. I’d been following him. Trailing him from his house when he…” He trails off. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. But I think he scented me. Or somehow realized I was on his tail.”

You frown. “Is that unusual?” You remember Jake’s words earlier. I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up. “I thought that vampires had heightened senses.”

“We do,” Heeseung clarifies. “But there are differences between us — the original seven — and all other vampires. Our senses are much stronger. They still have sharper senses than a human, yes, but I accounted for that. He shouldn’t have been able to detect me.”

“What are the other differences?”

“The seven of us are the only ones with any kind of additional abilities. We each have one, and they’re all different. We only need to feed once a year, and we have far more control over our instincts. We don’t experience bloodlust nearly as strong.” He passes you a meaningful glance. “Unless we’re feeding.”

Looking around, Heeseung confirms your suspicions.  “That’s what this room is, actually. A precautionary measure. It hasn’t happened in the last five hundred years, but we like knowing that there’s somewhere we won’t be able to escape, should the need for that ever arise.” 

“And you’re in here, because you… you drank my blood.”

Heeseung’s expression is unreadable. “Yes. The others thought it would be wise. It was precautionary. And ultimately unnecessary.” Again, he glances at your neck. “I didn’t experience any bloodlust. I was weak for a couple of days, but that wasn’t because of you. The dart that the professor shot you with had traces of moonflower in it. It’s poisonous for us.” 

As he looks at you, he explains, “Humans can ingest it safely in small doses, usually. Some brew it as a tea. You just have to be careful not to have too much, since it can cause temporary memory loss. But injected straight into the bloodstream, the effects are unknown.” His eyes flicker with a memory. You, crumpled in his arms, losing your grip on consciousness. “But it didn’t look good.”

So he had sucked it out of your neck. 

Your neck. Where he bit you.

Another piece of the vision he’s just shown you comes flashing back. 

“You bit me.” 

Heeseung meets your gaze. “I did.”

“Am I…” It’s hard to quell the panic once the realization starts to set in. Flashes of faces contorted in agony swim across your vision. “Am I going to change?”

“No,” Heeseung shakes his head. Leans forward, as if to reach for you. He thinks better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side. “No, that’s another difference. The seven of us can’t create new vampires.”

“Oh.” As the panic ebbs, you find yourself at a loss again. He saved you. Knowingly ingested a substance that could harm him to do so. Gratitude feels in order, but you can’t quite bring yourself to express it. 

The truth you want most to avoid dances on the tip of your tongue. “And you only… feed once a year.”

Again, Heeseung nods. “It doesn’t hurt us to ingest blood more frequently, but it’s not necessary. And like I said, we avoid it. We’re better at maintaining our inhibitions, but blood still has power over us. When we feed, it’s in a room like this. One we can’t get out of until we have complete control again.”

The questions that arise are morbid. How much blood is required to satisfy a year’s worth of thirst? How do they choose? Who lives, who dies for the hunger that binds them to this world? In the last five hundred years, how much blood has been washed from their hands, from his hands?

You can hardly ask him, but the truth still remains. “You’ve killed people.”

Heeseung’s gaze falls to the floor. “I won’t pretend to be innocent.” There’s a distinct edge of self-loathing when he says, “I won’t pretend that I’m not still… a monster. But the blood we ingest comes from animals, not humans.” 

He looks back to you, gaze searching as if he craves something from you. A flicker of trust. The reassurance that you’re not appalled by him, by everything he’s told you. 

You match his eye, and he hates the fear he finds reflected there. 

A moment of stilted silence passes. Another. The weight of a million revelations and a thousand unanswered questions rests heavily between you. It’s a lot to digest all at once. Too much. So much that your mind struggles to bear the weight of it all, to organize the information you’ve received into categories that give sense to the illogical, the impossible. 

Outside the barred door, you hear the whisper of a scuffle. 

“Stop that!”

“Move over. It’s been way more than a minute. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to—”

Heeseung sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns towards the door. “Just come in if you’re going to.”

Six boys tumble through the door in an excited heap. It reminds you a bit of overenthusiastic puppies. Again, you find the differences hard to reconcile. Killers. Monsters. Immortals beings with unnatural powers. 

And they look about as threatening as a gang of kittens. 

“So,” Jake starts, glancing between the two of you. “Did he tell you everything?”

You spare a look at Heeseung. The long fingers that rest at his side. “Showed me, actually.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jake’s features. “Oh.” He tamps it quickly. “That is more efficient, I suppose.”

“Well,” another boy pipes up, one you don’t yet have a name for. “At least now you know why he’s been following you home like a lovesick puppy every night. You can rest assured he’s not just some crazy stalker, and he—”

“Jay,” Heeseung bites. “Would you shut up already?”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Oh.” Jay winces, realizing the misstep a moment too late. “Sorry, man.” 

Heeseung exhales again. “We were worried Professor Kim might do something,” he explains, looking at you. “It was a precautionary measure.” 

Behind you, you hear a snicker. “Precautionary measure, my ass.”

But you’re too caught up in a sudden realization. Your professor. “It was Professor Kim, then. Those bodies at the river…”

“No, actually.” Jake shakes his head. “We don’t think he was responsible for the bodies at the river.” He nods towards another boy. “Sunoo had eyes on him that night. He was home when the attacks occurred.” 

You frown. “So who was?”

“We don’t know.” Jungwon’s ire may not be directed at you, but you feel it all the same. “We have no idea, and your professor was our best shot at figuring it out.” He looks at Heeseung. “Thanks to the stunt you pulled, we have no way of getting closer to him now.”

Heeseung glares back. “If by stunt, you mean saving someone’s life, then yes, I pulled a stunt.”

“And now there have been three more attacks in the last two days!”

“Wait.” For a moment, your voice reverberates off the walls as all seven of them fall into silence, gazes turning to you. Your face heats at the sudden influx of attention. Finding your words again, you state the obvious oddity. “But it doesn’t make any sense that Professor Kim is a vampire. He hates vampires. Everything New Haven has published is essentially just anti-vampire propaganda.”

“That’s another mystery,” Heeseung says. “Something else we were trying to figure out. And honestly, Jungwon, I don’t think it would have mattered. I told you, he scented me that day, so I’m sure he already knew—”

“That’s impossible.” Jungwon scoffs. 

“And yet it happened.” Heeseung frowns. “There’s something strange about him.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a thin line. “Something that we’re no closer to finding out. It will take months for another one of us to get any sort of trust from him. Never mind access to New Haven.”

With the urgency of an alarm bell, an idea starts to take form in your mind. Rough around the edges but solid in shape. “I think I can help with that.” Again, seven pairs of eyes fall on you, all in varying states of disbelief. “I’m interning with him. At New Haven.”

Heeseung is the first to break the silence. “Like hell you are. Or did you forget that the last time he saw you, he shot you with poison?”

Sunghoon nods. “It does seem like a pretty bad idea.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head. “Think about it. He shot me with something that’s poisonous to vampires. And I think it’s because he saw Heeseung. If he really did… scent you, then he knew you were a vampire. I think… I think he might have been trying to protect me.”

The room is quiet for a moment, your inference settling into the air. It’s a long shot maybe, but it’s starting to come together. 

After a minute, Sunoo says tentatively, “She might be right.” No one else speaks up, but you see a few heads nod in agreement. 

Heeseung is quick to shut them down. “No way. No fucking way. Those are terrible odds, and I’m not betting on them. None of you should be either.”

But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense to you. Why else would your professor shoot you full of something poisonous to vampires? 

You try to think of the scene from his eyes. He walked in on you and Heeseung alone in a dark room. You were frightened out of your mind, and in the split second he had to analyze things, he could have misjudged the source of your fear. One vampire for another. 

So you double down. “I’m serious. This could be the in we need.”

“There is no we,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re not a part of this.”

His dismissal makes you bristle. If what Jungwon said is true, the attacks are only increasing, leaving more victims in their wake. And your professor may have unusual amounts of control, but he certainly wasn’t demonstrating that two nights ago. 

“So what, I’m supposed to go home, pretend that everything is normal, and just let people keep dying?” Your gaze meets Jungwon’s. “That’s what will happen, isn’t it? You said there were three more attacks just in the time I was unconscious. How many people have died now?”

Jungwon’s lips are tight. “Eleven.”

“Eleven people,” you echo. “If I go to Professor Kim and tell him—”

“You’re not going anywhere near that man,” Heeseung counters. “We’ll take care of it. It’s what we do.”

But his excuses are wearing thin in your mind, turning flimsy the more you consider them. “How? If he can identify you as vampires, then there’s no way you’ll ever get close enough to figure out how he might be connected to all of this.” You turn, addressing all seven of them. “I, on the other hand, have a draft written about the intrinsic evil of vampirism. I have a bite mark healing on my neck. If I go to him and say that I hate vampires too, that I was attacked by Heeseung, and his poison was the only thing that saved me, then I’ll earn his trust.”

Heeseung just scoffs, shaking his head. “Are the rest of you hearing this?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth hesitantly. “I mean… she kind of has a point.”

Heeseung glares. “Besides you.”

Sunoo frowns for a moment, parts his lips. 

Heeseung doesn’t let him get a word out. “Don’t even try it.” He turns to the others, something pleading in his gaze. “Jungwon, Jay, Niki, Jake, you have to see how insane this is. She’s a human.”

Your lips pull tight. “A human that’s standing right here.”

Jungwon maintains an even tone when he restates the simple fact, “If this professor truly can scent us, we don’t have any way of investigating him further. Not without using force.” He turns to look at you, gaze assessing. “Do you really think he’ll believe that you’re on his side?”

Do you? Maybe Heeseung is right. Maybe you’re betting on ludicrous odds, wasting the last of your luck on a game that was rigged from the beginning. But why inject you with a substance poisonous to vampires? Why publish all of those anti-vampire stories?

You match Jungwon’s eye. “I do.”

“Okay.” Jungwon nods, mulling it over in his mind. “Okay.”

Heeseung watches the exchange with heated eyes. “Absolutely not—”

“You’ve been overruled,” Jay interjects. 

“Six to one,” Niki agrees. Glancing at you, he amends, “Make that seven to one.”

Heeseung is still seeing red. “This isn’t a fucking group vote. We’re not deciding which coffee table to put in the living room. This is a life.” Turning to you, his voice softens, an edge of pleading in his tone. “This is your life.”

“Exactly.” You’re begging too, for a bit of understanding. “It’s my life. A week ago, it was completely consumed by winning an internship, getting my writing published. And now there are vampire attacks ravaging my city. The professor I wanted to impress so badly might just be one of them. Even if I walk away from here and vow to never go near New Haven again, my life won’t go back to what it was. I won’t be safe. So I’m going to do what I can to get back to the things that are important to me.” Eyes heating, you add, “So yes, I am a part of this now, whether you like it or not. And I have the marks on my neck to prove it.”

“Damn,” Sunghoon whistles lowly. “That was kind of beautiful.”

“You have a way with words,” Sunoo agrees. 

“Of course she does,” Jay nods. “Remember how frustrated Heeseung was a few months ago after she presented her analysis or whatever in class? He was so stressed he’d lose out on the internship bec—”

Heeseung’s glare could freeze hellfire. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“It’s late,” Jungwon interrupts, sensing the response that builds on Jay’s tongue. Pouring water over the flames before they can escalate into a full blown argument. Again, he addresses you. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.” He glances around the room, and you imagine he’s trying to see things from your perspective. “Or any one of us would be happy to take you back home, if that’s what you prefer.”

There are aspects of your apartment that appeal to you. Sleeping in your own bed comes to mind. As does getting some distance from all of this. From him. You’ve taken in far too much information in the span of a few hours, and the throbbing against your temple has yet to ease. 

But your apartment is also empty. Quiet, isolated. With recent events in mind, you’re not sure it would feel like such a safe haven. If you’re quite ready to be truly alone. 

Still, you’re tentative. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You’re not,” Jake shakes his head. “It’s been a long few days. I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“Hasn’t she been asleep for, like, two days straight?” Sunghoon whispers to Jay. 

The only thing he gets in response is an elbow to the ribs. 

Jungwon ignores them. “You’re not overstaying anything. You can go home when you’re ready.”

“Ugh,” Niki grumbles. “Does that mean Heeseung’s gonna try and hang out in my room again? Because—”

He falls silent when at least three matching glares turn in his direction. 

Suddenly sheepish, you offer, “I can sleep somewhere else.” Glancing at Heeseung, you add, “I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed again.” 

Heeseung just gives you a strange look. Niki bursts out laughing. 

“Damn,” Jay says. “Two hundred years really is a long time, I guess. Humans these days don’t remember anything about vampires.”

Cheeks heating with embarrassment, you realize your mistake. Of course. Not only are the boys in front of you blood-drinking immortal beings that have been alive since the early sixteenth century, but they also don’t sleep. 

Mollified, you feel the urge to defend yourself. “Why do you even have beds, then?”

This time, it’s Sunghoon that erupts in a fit of laughter. The other six avoid your gaze pointedly. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but once the realization sinks in, your cheeks heat even further. 

“Oh, cut the poor girl some slack,” Sunoo scolds. Turning to you, he’s kind when he explains, “We don’t sleep, but we do relax. An old force of habit, I suppose. It’s nice to just lay down sometimes.”

Jay can’t help himself. “Among other things, right Sunghoon?”

“Ignore them,” Jungwon advises. “Five hundred year old children.”

“Hey!” Sunghoon protests. “We’re not the ones that couldn’t handle a sex joke—”

Heeseung just sighs, a stray strand of hair falling over his eyes. For a moment, he looks like the boy you used to sit behind in class. Dreamy. Moody. Untouchable. So painfully out of reach that spite made you want to try anyway. 

He’s here now. Within your grasp. And when he looks at you, the quiet words he whispers are meant only for your ears. “I can walk you to my—er—your room, if you’re ready.”

You’re not ready. You don’t think you ever will be. But even a life spun on top of its head has a way of unfolding in predictable ways. Such is the nature of things, and so flows the progression of time. 

You don’t say anything, but you do nod. 

Trailing after him silently down the hallway you came from, you’re not sure if it feels more right to fall into step beside him or let him lead you. In the end, he makes the decision for you. Without breaking stride, Heeseung slows down until your shoulders are aligned, eyes facing forward. 

He doesn’t say anything as the two of you track a steady path to his bedroom. Mind leaden with the weight of the last five hundred years, you remain silent as well. Finally, you pass the common room again. 

He opens the door to his bedroom, steps to the side to let you walk in first. 

Unwittingly, your eyes land on the most conspicuous piece of furniture in the room. Your cheekbones are flaming again, and finding sleep in that bed suddenly feels like an arduous task. 

Heeseung follows your gaze. The golden glow of his skin remains the same, but his eyes flash with embarrassment. “You don't, uh…” He trails off. Even poets struggle with finding the right words at times. Finally, he settles on, “Not all of us live like Sunghoon.”

“He seems nice,” you say, desperate to draw your minds away from where they’ve wandered. 

“That’s one way of putting it.” But there’s affection in his voice when he says it. Brothers, you think. All of them. They seem like brothers. 

Heeseung’s eyes scan the expanse of his bedroom as if he’s looking at it for the first time. “There’s not much.” He seems almost apologetic for it. “But help yourself to whatever you like. The computer doesn’t have a password. And there’s books on the desk, too.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. And you mean it. He’s not someone you expected to be generous with their space, their belongings. Another aspect of him you had all wrong. 

“I’ll let you have some space then.” He pauses at the door. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if there's anything you need.”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

He hesitates a moment longer. You can see it in the curve of his lips, the arrangement of his features. There’s more he wants to say. Something else he wants to tell you. 

Instead, he closes the door behind him on his way out. Gently, so that it hardly makes a noise. 

His bed is comfortable when you lay down, even if your mind is still racing a million miles a minute. Distantly, you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat now. What he thinks of the way it picks up speed every time certain moments replay in your head. 

But despite yourself, despite him, despite everything, you manage to drift off after only a few long minutes. Tucked away in the corner of a strange home, the sleep that greets you is blissfully dreamless.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: WHEW. This is the most info-dumpy we'll be getting, so I hope this made for an enjoyable follow up to the first part regardless. The relationship between our two leads will really start to take off in the next part, as will the remaining aspects of the ~mystery~ now that (most of) the lore/backstory is covered. as always, I love to know what you're thinking!

[incognit0slut]

Pretty when you sleep

As newlyweds, Spencer couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Even when you were asleep.

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) fem reader, consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, very minimum plot yet very heavy smut. words: around 2k

a/n: In another episode of me getting inspired by a clip that I turned into a gif and wrote something out of it🥴 if you want to read my other attempts at writing a blurb based on gifs, find the hashtag #gifwriting on my page. Also, I can't believe this is my first fic of him as a husband.

YOU WERE TOO PRETTY TO RESIST. You just looked so goddamn tempting while laying on your stomach like that. It didn’t help when the strap of your nightgown fell from your shoulder, uncovering the swell of your breast.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. So soft. So irresistible.

Spencer always made sure he had your consent every time he touched you. He grew to understand what you liked and didn't like when it came to sex, and sure, maybe thinking of brushing his fingers along your skin while you were unconscious wasn't the best idea. But he couldn't help it. You were just too inviting to resist, so he placed a hand on your hip.

You stirred at the sudden contact he initiated and unconsciously readjust into a more comfortable position, your toes curling before relaxing once more. When you finally stopped squirming around, he reached out again, letting his rough fingers travel up your exposed leg. He started at your knee before going further up between the apex of your plush thighs, where that sweet little cunt of yours was waiting for him.

You were still asleep, even as he started to carefully stroke you, dragging a single knuckle up and down against your thin panties and suppressed a groan as he felt the heat radiating from underneath the material. Your breathing pattern began to change as he continued with his teasing. By the time he circled your clit and added the slightest amount of pressure on it, you started to pant and push your ass higher into the air in response.

He smiled. You wanted this.

Of course, you did. The way your body reacted to his touch spoke for itself. You were already getting so wet that your panties were turning damp and sticky with arousal. He continued to massage your clit through the thin cotton, and he watched in awe as your breath hitched in your throat, almost as though you could feel his actions even when you were unconscious.

Spencer kept his eyes trained on your body as he moved to dip your panties down your legs, carefully lifting your body up just enough to slide them down your curves, allowing them to sit around one of your ankles. Then he carefully slipped off his own clothes, trying to keep as quiet as possible, before his palms splayed against your body to move you onto your back.

“So pretty," he mumbled under his breath as he took note of your loose nightgown and the way it had risen up, exposing more of your skin to his prying eyes. He moved over the mattress slowly, making sure you were still fast asleep, and slipped between your now parted legs.

God, how had he become so lucky? Having you reciprocate his feelings was already a surprise when he confessed, but it surpassed his expectations when you agreed to be his girlfriend. Ten months of pure bliss was what he felt throughout your relationship, and when he noticed some of your clutter in his apartment, he wanted to see it every time he came home.

And now, miraculously, you were his wife. The word carried a weight of joy and wonder that he couldn't quite fathom. Every morning waking up to your shared life, and every night falling asleep next to you, felt like a dream too good to be true. 

Granted, you've shared intimate nights so much that he should've gotten used to your body by now. Yet, every touch felt as electrifying and exhilarating as the first time and he found himself still captivated by the warmth of your presence. Even now as he fisted his cock, giving himself a teasing tug as he ran his thumb against the tip, his eyes raking your exposed body.

The way your legs parted for him, showing off your wetness and how already swollen you were even when he was barely touching you. His gaze swept over your exposed breast that slipped out of your nightgown and he brushed a thumb against one of your stiff peaks, feeling the way you trembled beneath him.

The way you shuddered made him jerk his hips against yours erratically, pushing his cock against your mound. Your body reacted to his touch, even in slumber, as your hips arched off the bed. His breath hitched when he rutted his hips forward. The sight of his cock against your abdomen showed him just how deep he would be inside you.

He then eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen tip through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way your pussy spread for him, as though inviting him inside. Your arousal coated his swollen head as he focused his attention on your clit, pressing down on it with his cock as he listened to the increased pace of your breathing.

He moved his cock back up as he let the underside split your folds open, resting his girth between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. You were so fucking pretty it was unreal.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, holding onto the base of his cock as he started to drag the tip through your wetness again, grunting softly as it caught against your tight entrance. “Look at you swallowing me.”

Spencer exercised restraint as he gave soft, subtle thrusts into your aching cunt. His gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart as he continued pushing himself forward, feeling your body begin to resist his entrance as he tried to change the angle.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he whispered. His chest rumbled with a groan as he felt you clenching around his thickness, causing his eyes to snap up to your face in surprise, thinking that he’d wake you up. But you were still very much asleep. "I can't resist you."

He let out a sigh as he managed to thrust his hips further. He paused for a second to cherish the feeling of his cock being completely buried deep inside you, running his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel himself inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he throbbed at the sensation.

He held your hips and slowly dragged his thick cock from your cunt, leaving the tip to keep you stretched out before plunging back inside. The restraint he once had now long gone with the way your body hungrily sucked him. His pace increased as he leaned forward, hovering his body over yours with his hands splayed on either side of your head. He sucked in a breath at the way your body adjusted to him, clenching around his cock as he kept rutting his hips.

And then you suddenly stirred. You moved slightly, your chin tilting upward, and your lips parting to release a breath. Your eyes slowly flutter open from your slumber as you feel the warmth of his body, the subtle shift of his weight, and the aching sensation between your thighs.

"What..." Your voice cracked as you turned to see him, only to let out a low groan at him thrusting a bit harder against you.

"Shh, it's just me," he whispered. The haze of your sleep lifted, and your gaze met him at the same time he leaned down, pressing his lips onto yours. 

He captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip as your hands pressed to his chest, feeling his flushed, hot body against your own. You let him devour you while his hips increased in speed, rolling against yours as whimpers began to spill from your lips. Your thighs instinctively tightened around him, curses spilling beneath a heavy breath as the bliss filled your body.

"Spence..." you whimpered. You were breathless, eyes screwed shut, legs now parting even further to give him better access. Throughout the time you were in a relationship with him, you never imagined being woken up like this, but you weren't complaining. Not when you could feel his cock stretching you so deliciously.

Spencer was often embarrassed when it came to dirty talk, but once he realized how much you relished those whispered, filthy words, it became a personal mission to keep you thoroughly satisfied. Knowing how much you loved hearing those filthy words became a secret thrill for him, which was why when he leaned closer to whisper in your ear, you became a whining mess.

“You're always so tight,” he began, his voice deep and raspy, right in your ear before he nipped at the lobe, sending a gasp spilling for your lips as you reached for him in an overwhelming burst of arousal. “Look at you taking me so well. It's like your pussy is made for me.”

A rush of burning heat filled your body, his words affecting you with heat spreading from between your thighs to reach even your toes and fingertips. He buried himself between your neck while thrusting inside of you with rising desperation, pushing himself further, his body rolling against yours.

“Faster,” you begged him in a breathless whimper, all before your teeth sank into your lip, brow wrinkling, moans filling in your chest. It only took him a second to comply. The thrusts of his hips created a loud smack as drove his cock deeper inside of you. You couldn’t help but cry out, overwhelmed by the pleasure, squeezing yourself so tight around him that he let out a grunt.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groaned in your ear, having the proximately to tell you the dirty, nasty things on his mind. His lips brushed over your neck as he increased his pace. “I love fucking you like this.”

“Please… don’t stop—” You gulped with a brief pause. “Feels so... so good.”

He shook his head against your shoulder.

"I'm not stopping," he continued to whisper in his gruff voice, earning goosebumps on your quivering body. “I love feeling you this close.” He pressed an open kiss on your skin. "I love making you desperate."

“Fuck,” you cried out, body weakening with his every word. The sounds of him pumping into your slick, wet arousal became louder the quicker he thrust into you. “I-I’m getting c-close."

You continued to warble out broken sentences, trying to form any coherent thoughts but all you felt was the searing pleasure that flowed through you. The lewd sounds continued to fill the room as your essence dribbled down your ass and onto the bed, staining the sheets. "I-I'm gonna—"

“Come for me,” he encouraged, lips pressing to your skin between words. “Go on, come on my cock.” The choice words sent a shiver down your spine as the heat bubbled between your thighs. 

“I'm coming,” you cried out, voice straining and struggling to speak from him leaving you so breathless. Your body tensed as the pleasure swelled through your body and his final confession toppled you right over the edge.

“I love this so much,” he groaned between you gasping as the first wave of pleasure surged through you, “I love you.”

You finally let go, toes curling in ecstasy as you arched your back, legs growing further apart. Your head spins from the warmth filling every inch of you as he fucked you through your orgasm. You gasped his name, overwhelmed with the bliss he offered, the emotions that drove you at his words. You wanted to say them back, but you couldn't even think properly as the wave of pleasure washed over you.

He continued to thrust, eyes closed, brow creased, lips parted, huffing and groaning and holding you tighter until he reached his own peak. The moment a heavy exhale left his lips, his hips slowed and his cock twitched, signaling the pleasure filling him as he released inside of you. You moaned at the sensation before he eased himself and collapsed on the bed, bringing you along with him as you settled on top of his body.

The two of you lingered in the aftermath of passion for a few seconds too long—breathless, hot, sweaty, and tired. When you lifted your head to look at him, you noticed the softness in his eyes, your heart fluttering at the sight. 

"Well, good morning to you, Dr. Reid," you teased.

He laughed, his hands absentmindedly stroking your back. There was a warmth in his gaze, filled with affection as you continued to stare at him. "Good morning, Mrs. Reid."

You couldn't help but smile at the endearment as you placed your head on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you let his warmth envelop you, singking further into the arms of your husband.

a/n: If you have a specific clip you want me to be inspired by, come and drop me a message. But please be specific so I would know which scene you're talking about.

[storiesofsvu]

Sweet Girl

Olivia Benson x reader warnings: language, smut, mommy kink. requested: yes. the rare occurrence of me writing for Olivia, and it being smut on top of that? don't expect this to happen for a while LOL. Somewhere between a drabble and a one shot. absolutely no plot.

You knew exactly what you were getting in for, that had been your plan from the very beginning. Olivia had been having an extremely long week, the two of you barely seeing each other, having to suffice with goodnight texts rather than tangling yourselves in each others limbs at the end of the day. Bored, you’d gone out and bought a few new lingerie sets and once you knew she was in the clear for Friday night completely off, you’d headed to her place dolled up with dinner and wine. It was absolutely no surprise that dinner got completely forgotten once she saw a piece of pink lace peeking out from under your shirt.

She took her time admiring you in the bedroom, letting you show off the delicate set, her eyes darkening with the slow twirl you did, popping up on your toes to make sure she didn’t miss the bow on the back. Her hands traced over the fabric, purposely avoiding the areas you wanted her to touch the most at first, letting you whine, waiting until you were putty in her arms, whimpering under her touch. Then she finally took off your bra, leaning over you on the bed to catch a nipple in between her lips, sucking at it, flicking it with the tip of her tongue before nipping gently and you moaned. She repeated the action on the other side, her fingers continuing to toy with your chest, feeling the way your body was practically trembling underneath her.

“That’s it sweetheart.” She murmured, pressing a tender kiss in the center of your chest, “always so good for me.” Her kisses trailed down your body until her fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties and she pulled them down your legs, letting out a small chuckle at the sudden shyness that had overcome you. Her hands brushed up your legs, rubbing soothingly at your soft skin, “spread your legs for mommy, I want to see you.”

Letting out a breath you obliged, letting your legs fall open so she could shift between them, a gasp escaping you lips when she palmed at your pussy. Her fingers slipped between your folds, rubbing at you as the heel of her hand gently ground into your clit, watching the way you let out a satisfied moan.

“What would you like sweet girl?” She asked, pressing a little harder, “to get off on my fingers, in my mouth or on mommy’s cock?”

“Your cock.” You groaned, hips bucking up off the bed when she dipped two of her fingertips into your cunt, sighing at the way you were already squeezing around her, at just how wet you were already.

“That’s what I thought.” She leant over you, giving your clit a gentle kiss before shifting from the bed to rid herself of the rest of her clothes and grab the strap.

Returning to the bed Olivia climbed over you, her hand finding its way between your legs once again, a finger slipping into your cunt and you groaned, your head thrown back into the pillows.

“More…”

“So eager already.” She teased before adding a second finger, pumping them steadily in and out of your pussy, watching every time she pulled them out, smirking at how much of your juices were coating her fingers.

“Feels so good.” You murmured, hips chasing her movements, practically begging for more.

“I’ve got to warm you up sweetheart.” She cooed, her fingers beginning to curl and scissor inside you, stretching you out for the toy between her legs. “That’s it…” she purred when she could easily slide a third finger in and you couldn’t hold back the moan, body arching off the bed when she curled her fingers and hit the sweet spot inside you.

“Need you…” you whimpered and she slipped her fingers from you.

“I’m right here baby.” She replied, leaning over you to capture your lips in a kiss while she smeared your juices over her cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing it.

“Oh god…” Your eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapping around her to pull her impossibly close to you, making her hips meet yours, burying herself fully inside you.

“Feel good?” She asked with a smirk in her voice, peppering your jawline with kisses as you adjusted to her size.

“Yes…” you breathed out, relaxing against the bed and she started to move, “oh god.. so fucking good.”

Olivia’s hand moved to your leg, gently grabbing your thigh to shift it upwards, pinning it to the bed so she could reach even deeper within you, her hips setting a steady pace as her cock continued to plunge into you. Her lips met yours in a breathless kiss, moving with ease against your lips, tongue just daring to slip into your mouth as you whimpered.

Each thrust of her cock hit the sensitive spot inside you, each ridge of the toy dragged over your walls, your pussy fluttering around it faster than you wanted to admit. Pleasure was firing through your entire body, your skin on fire, nipples brushing against her chest as she fucked you. The kiss broke with a louder moan leaving your lips, your head thrown back and Olivia took advantage, her mouth making its way down your neck, leaving kisses and love bites across your tender skin, burying herself in the crook of your neck as she picked up the pace.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your pussy clenching down around her cock, hips eagerly meeting hers with each thrust.

“You take me so well sweet girl.” She praised, kissing the side of your neck, “so good for me, every time. My good little girl.”

“Mommy please…” you whined out and she let out a breath, pulling herself from your neck.

“Are you close sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded, biting at your lip as you held back another moan, “would you like to come?”

“Yes! Please!”

“You know you don’t have to ask.” She chuckled, her hand sneaking between your bodies to play with your clit, fingers rubbing it before pinching it gently and you gasped, your body jumping off the bed when she followed it up with a particularly deep thrust. “That’s it baby.. come for me.”

Her praise was all you needed, your body trembling with pleasure, a cry leaving your lips as your pussy pulsed around her, juices leaking out, smearing across your thighs and your hands clenched at her body.

“Good girl…” she cooed, her thrusts slowing as she fucked you through your orgasm, “just like that.” As her hips slowed her hand came up to your face, brushing off any mussed up hair, smoothing it back as she left gentle kisses across your face. “You’re so gorgeous, so pretty, my perfect sweet girl.”

You let out a little whimper, tilting your head up so she could kiss you properly before she shifted, slipping out of you so she could toss the toy to the side to be cleaned later. Her free hand didn’t once leave your body until she was back in the bed, pulling the covers up around the two of you, encouraging you to curl into her side. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, smiling at the very satisfied sigh you let out in response before giving your body a gentle squeeze, linking her free hand with yours.

“Feeling better now?”

“Absolutely perfect.” You left a kiss on her chest, “thank you.”

“Anything for my sweet girl.”

———————————

@red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @lesbianspacecowboy @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @venablemayfairgoode @alexusonfire @mysticfalls01 @beccabarba @littlegaybabe @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @molllss @wosoimagines @brienneseveruscalawayfanfiction @solemnnova @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @wandas-wife @emskisworld @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt @wandasbrat @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @sia2raw @ladysc @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @momlifebehard @holycrapraewth @alexxavicry @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @temp0rary-bliss @prentiss-theorem

[cameronsprincess]

Office Hours — R.C

request: Hi!! Can you write like a CEO rafe and his wife who comes to visit him at the office and he fucks her on his desk where everybody can hear her moaning his name and then he walks out all smug, leaving for the day to continue pleasing his wife at home (from anon)

CW: CEO!Rafe, wife!reader, semi public sex(?), unprotected sex, choking, slapping, degrading, breeding kink. and i think that’s it.

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated<3

note: CEO Rafe is so sexy to me, and this is an NYC AU, not in the OBX💞

Rafe always loved when you came to visit him at work. Your husband had a very busy schedule, multiple meetings, business trips, and visiting location sites for new businesses he wanted to open up.

It was a rarity that you caught him in the office, alone and with some time to spare for you.

So when he called you today, asking you to come in to the office to see him, you jumped on the opportunity.

“Mrs. Cameron, he’s in his office waiting on you.”

You smile at Rafe’s assistant, nodding your head as you make your way down the long hallway of the building. Reaching the end of the hall, you stand in front of his office door, Rafe Cameron, CEO, is in big bold letters across the middle.

You push the door open, — not bothering to knock since he knows you’re coming — and find him sitting behind his desk, his office phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he spoke sternly to whoever was on the other end.

He looks up, bright blue eyes finding yours as he smiles softly, “I gotta call you back.” he says to whoever was on the other end of the line, hanging up before they can even respond.

“Hi beautiful.” he says, smiling and standing from behind his desk, making his way toward you.

You smile widely, shutting the door behind you and meeting his steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting on your toes to kiss his lips. “Hi handsome, I’ve missed you.”

Rafe melts against your lips, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as he deepens the kiss. His hands slide down your body, wrapping around your waist, large hands gripping your ass firmly through your tight black leggings.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours and smiling. “I’ve missed you baby, I promise, I’ll take some time off soon and we’ll go to the house in the Bahamas, spend some real time together, okay?”

You smile up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod your head in agreement. Rafe dips his head down, his lips finding yours again and slowly kissing you.

His tongue makes its way into your mouth again, brushing with yours as his hands begin roaming the expanse of your body. You moan softly into his mouth when his fingertips rub against your clothed thighs. It’d been a few days since you’d had your husband, and you were craving him, in more ways than one.

“Rafe, I need you.”

He smiles against your lips, backing the two of you up until your back hits a wall. He presses his hips into you, the feel of his already hard cock pressed against your clothed core making your breath catch in your throat.

“Yeah? My wife wanna be fucked in my office? Let everyone hear how good I make her feel?”

You suck in a sharp breath, mumbling a one word response, “Yes.”

His eyes darken and he places his hands on the underside of your ass, lifting you up and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to his desk, setting your ass down on the sleek wood surface. You watch him intently as he undoes the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off and leaving his broad, tanned chest and abdomen on display.

You reach out to run your fingers down his abs, but he slaps your hands away. “Nuh uh, baby. No touching.”

You frown, letting out a frustrated sigh that makes Rafe smirk. “You gonna be a fuckin’ brat? Huh? Just let me know, I can make you wait if that’s what you want..”

Your eyes go wide, shaking your head fast as you say, “No no no, ‘m sorry baby, I just… I need to feel you.”

He smirks, popping the button on his black dress slacks before working the zipper and shoving them down his legs, letting the material pool at his feet. Your eyes trail from his face down to his tight black boxer briefs, the hard, thick outline of his cock pressed firmly against the thin material.

“See something you want baby?” he teases, placing his right hand over his hard-on, squeezing himself lightly, a low, raspy groan escaping him.

Your thighs squeeze together, your eyes glued on his hard dick. “Yes. Want your cock, need to feel you stretch me, please.”

Rafe growls, taking one long step toward you. His fingers dig into the waistband of your leggings, ripping them down your legs. He hisses in a breath when he sees you’d opted for no panties today.

“Fuck, you plan this? To come in here and seduce me during office hours?” 

You can’t contain the mischievous smirk that spreads across your lips. “Maybeeee.”

“Mhm, my wife is such a fucking slut. I love it.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Rafe slapping your cheek has you gasping instead. The sting from his hand has more arousal pooling between your legs, and you whine, your clit throbbing with need.

“Rafe, please. Fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, it’s been four days, I-”

Rafe shuts you up, his lips aggressively finding yours. He wraps his fingers into the back of your hair, pulling your head back to allow him better access to your mouth. His tongue finds yours, fighting for dominance while his free hand slides its way under your ass, lifting you up just enough so your soaked cunt is level with his hard dick.

He tightens his grip in your hair, pulling your lips from his as his darkened over eyes find yours. “Ready for me baby?”

You whimper out a small “yes” and he removes his hand from your hair, using the now free hand to grip his cock in his hands. He strokes himself softly, spitting down onto the base and spreading it around his length with his hand.

He scoots your ass further down the desk, running his swollen head through your arousal slick entrance before he slowly pushes into you. You hiss in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to push into you agonizingly slow.

“Fuck sweet girl, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”

A loud moan slips past your lips, the feel of his thick cock stretching you out making your brain short circuit.

“F-ffffuck, Rafe. Please move, need to- need to feel you move..”

A low growl rumbles in Rafe’s chest, and he slowly pulls out, slamming himself back inside of your warm, wet cunt. You gasp loudly, screaming his name as you wrap your arms around his neck, your nails digging into the soft skin of his back.

Rafe begins to roughly pound himself into you, his left hand under your ass and keeping you pressed into him while he right hands makes it’s way around your throat, squeezing hard and forcing your eyes on him.

“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted me to fuck you like a slut in my office, let all my employees hear you fucking scream for me?” He pauses, removing his right hand from your throat and smacking at your face again, a deep, red handprint left burning on your cheek. “Go on, fucking scream baby, let everyone in this goddamn place know who the fuck owns this sweet pussy.”

You’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Your brain is so foggy from how good his cock feels buried deep inside you, how his filthy words and aggressive actions on your body turn you on even more. You can’t form a coherent response, and this only pushes Rafe to be meaner, and fuck you harder.

He slowly pulls himself from you, making you whine at how empty you feel without him filling you. His large hands grip at your hips, lifting your ass from the desk and flipping you so your stomach lay flat on the surface now. He slaps at your ass harshly, making you scream in pain and pleasure. “Answer me! Who the fuck is making you feel this good? Hmm? Who owns this fucking pussy, baby?”

He slams back into you, his hands firmly planted on your hips so he can pull you back to meet each of his thrusts.

Screaming his name, you answer his question. “You! You, Rafe. Feel so fucking good! You own my pussy, all for you!”

He slaps your ass again, a dark chuckle falling from him, “That’s right baby, I fucking own you and this sweet fucking pussy. Never forget that, aight?”

Tears fill your eyes, your pussy clenching tightly around your husband’s thick cock as he repeatedly pushes in and out of you at a fast and rough pace. “Y-yes sir. Never gonna forget it, fuck!”

The first few tears spill past your eyes as Rafe continues to brutally fuck himself into you from behind. Your walls clench around him tightly, strings of curses and moans slipping past your lips. “Fuck, Rafe. Ah ah, s’close baby, fuck!”

Rafe leans forward, the weight of his body on your back as his lips hungrily kiss at your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. “Go on baby, make a fucking mess on my cock and desk, let go f’me.”

That was all it took, Rafe kissing harshly at your neck and his permission to let go sent you tumbling over the edge, your pussy tightening once more as you came undone around him.

He fucks you through your high, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he curses under his breath. “Gonna cum baby, gonna fill this pretty little pussy up, make you a mama. You want that? Wanna have my babies?”

“Y-yes! P-please! Want your cum, Rafe! Wanna have all your babies, fuck, please please.”

Rafe’s thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he pushes into you a few more times. You let out a loud moan when you feel his hot cum spill inside you, painting your inner walls white.

“Fuck!” Rafe shouts as his hips slow, burying himself to the hilt and stilling inside you.

Your body collapses onto the desk, the cool surface feeling good against your hot, sweat slick skin. You wince when Rafe pulls his softening cock from inside you, pulling up his boxers and slacks before grabbing his white button up off the floor.

You hear him disappear into his private bathroom that’s in his office, the sound of the sink turning on making you lift your head from the desk.

He walks behind you, gently laying your head back down as he brings the warm, wet hand towel between your legs and cleaning you up. Once finished, he tosses the damp towel to the side, pulling your leggings back up your legs and lifting you into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, your head resting against his firm chest. “I’ve missed you, thank you for that.” you say softly.

Rafe dips his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your tangled hair before whispering, “You’re welcome, baby. ‘M yours for the rest of the day.”

You lift your head, brows furrowed in confusion when you hear his office door open, multiple sets of eyes on the two of you before they all avert their eyes to the ground. You hide your flushed face in his neck, not wanting the attention on you when you know everyone knows what just took place in your husbands office.

You hear Rafe speak, “Angie, forward all my calls for the rest of the day. I’m going home for the day, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

His assistant clears her throat awkwardly, letting out a quiet “Yes, Mr. Cameron.” before Rafe begins walking the two of you out of his work building and to his car.

rafe taglist: @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @vhour @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust0 @sylverdragon @the-sylver-dragon @ditzyzombiesblog @romaescapes @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

[schoenpepper]

Hi teh needing some all time comfort so can I request for Trey, Jade and Floyd where their S/O got injured? Like sprained their ankle or something. Or broke their toe nail from taekwando because they had a miscalculation kick🙂

(Totally did not happen to me haha)

It Hurts, Doesn't It?

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, trey's is suggestive kyahhh idk what i wrote for him

A/N: Sige beh para sayo <3 HAHAHAHAAHAHA unahin ko req mo kasi kawawa ka naman pagbibigyan na kita. My phone died and it ain't charging on any cable so I'm gonna cry haha goodnight good morning good afterevening

Masterlist

Trey's hands are warm and gentle, massaging your ankle with practiced motions. "You uh, do this often?" you wince when he rolls it a bit too much to the left.

"Too much. Children are clumsy."

"I'm not a child."

He shoots you an unimpressed look over the top of his glasses, his fingers slowly pressing on the spots that make you hiss and thrash under his touch. "Stay still or it won't get any better."

"Okay," you pout, "big brother."

There's something dangerous in his honey dipped eyes that makes you attempt to pull back, but there's just no escaping him when he gently tugs on your leg and makes you lose your balance. "You aren't my sibling," he whispers, "and I am not your brother." You get it, you really do. You nod your head and try to pull back again, but suddenly, his lips are on your skin, pressing light kisses over the painful parts.

"What are you—?!"

"I wouldn't do this for my siblings," Trey's kisses slowly continue to climb up your leg, "so don't call me that again."

Floyd thinks the situation is funny, so he pokes and prods at the reddened skin on your ankle while laughing. "Shrimpy, how'd you manage to do that? Did you trip over yourself?" You know better than to regale him of your sad tale, so you purse your lips and pull your leg away from his restless hands.

"Floyd, it hurts. Cut it out please."

He frowns and leans in closer. You lean back against the bench, trying not to move your foot too quickly when he's closing in the distance without leaving you any chance to breathe. "But you promised to spend today with me. You can't back out on your promises."

You shake your head. "Nothing I can do, Floydie. I can't play with you when I can barely even walk."

"You can't walk, shrimpy?" you're suddenly hoisted up into his arms, "I'll carry ya'."

"Floyd! Put me down, please!"

He shakes his head and runs off, forcing you to wrap your arms around him for support.

"Nah, don't feel like it. Let's go play in Azul's office!"

Jade regards your ankle with his typical smile that betrays nothing of his true thoughts, slowly rubbing the area in a rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. His gloves are tucked on your lap, his hat sloping down on your head almost covering your eyes. "Still," he speaks in a soft, low tone, "it is rather impressive you could injure yourself in such a situation."

Translation: That was dumb. How the fuck did you get hurt like that?

You give him a sheepish smile, pulling up the brim of the hat so that your view of his pretty face, all tense with the slightest tinge of worry, is unimpeded. "Thank you for helping, Jade."

"Of course. It's not as if I'm doing it for free."

Well, you should have expected it already. Octavinelle's brand of benevolence is often expensive. Your hands subconsciously fiddle with the satin of his gloves. "Of course, what do you want?"

His smile turns a little more genuine.

"And I could ask anything of you?"

You grimace. "Within reason."

"Then perhaps," his tone is a bit breathier when he gets closer to you, "a kiss for your knight in shining armor?"

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @fsh1 @lemon-koii

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

-

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

-

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

[shomixremix]

HOT SPRINGS OF INAZUMA ♥︎

this was inspired by @captainfia 's absolutely amazing art of itto in the bath. wrote this in one go, that's how great the fanart is. thank you for giving me what to write for this wonderful sweet himbo <3

can you tell itto is my favorite

tags: arataki itto, female!reader, fluff, slight angst, smut, sex in a hot spring, established relationship (kinda??), jealousy, mentions of an arranged marriage, forbidden love

-> you decide to unwind after a rough day in the nearby hot spring, only to be met with someone already hogging it - a very large, very handsome, very demon someone.

reqs open!! | minors DNI

dressed in a silk kimono and nothing else, you make your way to the hot spring not far from your house. there is not one but two neatly folded towels in your arms, one significantly larger than the other. even though you couldn't be certain, the smirk on your lips was already anticipating the feeling of a much larger body behind you.

the smirk curls into a full-blown grin as you realize your intuition was right yet again; the big, burly body you knew every crevice and curve of stretched lazily in the bath. you set the towels down on a nearby rock, slipping out your wooden sandals.

you can't help but be in awe of the man, no matter how many times you've seen and felt him before. the red marks adorning his body that you were so familiar with and sometimes oh so desperately traced on your pillow to try and feel him closer never failed to make your lower stomach swirl with arousal. always forgetting your lover was a mythical animalistic being, and therefore, had a very sharp sense of smell.

"fuuuccckkk..." he groaned out as he threw his head back, "don't just stare, love bug, get in here"

you smile at the little petname the demon used, eager hands running down to untie your kimono and let it ruffle against your feet. as soon as it was discarded of your body, you dip your toes in the hot water hesitantly.

it was an understatement to say you had fully expected him to pull you in playfully by your feet, rough-housing you until you were maneuvered onto his lap. yet, the oni does nothing of the sort, his head continuing to hang back in what you assumed was pleasure and tiredness.

you step in further, letting your thighs be submerged by the hot water. only then does he notice your existence, eager, crimson eyes watching you as you float closer to him. 'like an angel', he thinks.

"you're early" slips off your tongue, a loving smile on your face as you look at the oni in front of you. his face stretches out in a toothy grin, a soft blush in his cheeks under the moonlight.

"what's wrong, itto? that excited to see me?" you tease through a chuckle, tempting him as you very slowly move through the water.

"you know i always am, sweets", he teases back, a hint of hunger in the way he's looking at you. however, you also notice a gleam of something that wasn't an ever-present look on his handsome face - exhaustion. the kind which you've only seen from very overworked soldiers and generals.

"you okay, arataki? you look tired"

to your surprise, he doesn't answer the question, submerging deeper into the water until only his chest and head were left uncovered. you make your way over to him, sitting down in his lap, your legs wrapped around each one of his meaty thighs.

"hm? what's wrong, itto?" you repeat your question as your fingers run through his mane, yet to no avail - the oni's arms run to grab your hips, pulling you even closer.

"nothin', baby, everything's just fine. just... tired, a bit."

"aww, my poor oni..." you coo softly as you kiss his neck, trying to further relax your lover, "did the arataki gang stumble into some monsters? is that why you're tired, love?"

he grumbles something incoherently, his claws digging in the softness of your waist and hips. the big, rough-looking demon turns into mush as you kiss him, dishing out quiet praises into your ear.

"mmph, love bug, so good.. so freakin' good to me, baby... missed ya', missed ya' a lot.."

"aww, missed you too, itto!" your final kiss is pressed onto the point where his neck meets his chest, where you nuzzle you head and still. however, your rest is far from guaranteed - you know damn well not a single one of your hot-spring dates could end without itto letting you ride him.

so, just like every other time, the demon pulls you in closer, letting your softness brush lightly over his shaft under the water's surface. you giggle at the all familiar feeling, slowly sinking down on him, just how he likes. just how you like, too.

"ohhh, itto..." you moan into the night. even after so many times and so many nights stolen and spent here, with him, you weren't used to his size. it took a bit of a struggle and one sharp thrust of his hips, but soon you were fully seated on the oni.

much to your dismay, your lover didn't thrust his hips into yours and bury his head into your chest, as always. no, this time he simply laid back, head thrown back as his forearms rested on the hot spring's edges.

your instincts tell you something is wrong - the usually bubbly, excited, restless oni was now slumped and without energy, not even caring for the fact that he was inside you, that he was wrapped in your velvety warmth. your palm reaches to touch his neck, slowly tracing the big, red markings down his torso.

"anything i can do to help, itto?" you ask unsurely. you weren't used to being the one carrying the conversations between the two of you - his much more extroverted personality took care of that. yet, he remained quiet. too quiet.

"jus' stay like that for a lil' while, sweets, hmm?" he mumbled, enjoying the warmth of his bath.

"i brought all kinds of soaps and oils.." you hum, a hand running through his mane, "would you like me to help you wash off, oni?"

arataki only nods, letting out a large sigh as you shift a bit on his lap so you could grab the toiletries. his sigh turns into a groan as soon as your hands meet his body again, massaging every defined muscle with a mixture of dendrobium oil and sakura petals. his eyes never shift towards your body, head thrown back from the pleasure.

now that he was completely cleaned of any musk from a hard day's work - aka running around and playing adventurers with the gang - his usual self still hasn't emerged, making your eyebrows scrunch in worry.

he wasn't very willing to talk, you knew. yet you needed a way to make him feel even an ounce better.

your own neediness and the fact that itto never once before denied your pleasure made you roll your hips to his, earning a slight groan from him. that only encouraged you more, rolling your hips again, and again, and again...

"shiiittt, sweets.." he howled, his tense muscles relaxing into your touches. how you loved every curve of that enormous body... your hands go over his pillow-y pecs, across his defined abs that always make you drool and all the way down to his belly button and the little happy trail that, indeed, made you very happy. your roll your hips again, desperate for his attention. the warmth of the bath wasn't enough - you needed the warmth of the oni.

as he gets more desperate, his grip on your hips becomes tighter and tighter. you know he's close to snapping, his hips shallowly thrusting into your warmth. to get him to loosen up completely, you lay your body forward, nuzzling your face into his neck, right under his ear.

"itto.." you breathe into him, "fuck me. please. i've looked forward to this all day..."

no matter how tired, those weren't words any oni could ignore - let alone an oni desperately in love. in cruel, tangled, messy love.

"fuck, baby..." he groans, giving you a rough thrust, "missed ya' too.."

his pace picks up and suddenly, he's hunched forward, handsome face nestled in the crook of your neck, big, beefy biceps wrapped around your waist. his sharp fangs grazed your skin, always careful not to leave a mark.

"don't.. hah.." the usually over-confident itto hesitated. he hesitated!

"don't go, baby, yeah? lemme bring you to the gang, you know everyone loves ya', they'll be more than.. fuck! more than excited to see i finally brought ya' home"

the look in your eyes changes from one of pure arousal to a saddened one, your hand running to cradle his cheek.

"you know i can't, arataki.." you coo, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "i'd love to, i'd love to stay in a tent with you forever, but..."

there was no need to finish that sentence. itto knew well why you couldn't - that, however, didn't make it any easier.

"yeah, yeah, i know" he grumbled, obviously saddened himself.

"'ts not fair! i see ya' maybe once a week, love bug, it's drivin' me fuckin' crazy!"

you hug him tight as he continues pounding into you, each word followed by an upset, feverish thrust.

"i know, it hurts me too, love.. i miss you every day, more than you know.. i miss you, and your arms, and your body, and your horns, and-"

"and being bounced like this in my lap, yeah? that what you miss the most, sweets?" he teases through a smirk, grabbing on to you almost possesively.

you laugh sweetly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "i do, i really do. but that's not what i miss the most. you, all of you, are what i miss the most"

suddenly, you let out a sigh, struggling to say your next words. "you know, that commissioner recently came to ask for my hand..."

you could practically hear his heart breaking as his thrusts slowed.

"oh, uh.." he cleared his throat, trying to mask his sadness, "congrats, love bug. you'll..." he swallows hard, his words physically hurting him.

"you'll be sucha good wife"

but not his wife, like you wanted to be. that thought was breaking your heart into a cajilion pieces.

"itto, i- i don't want to stop seeing you..." you choke out, "you know i'd go with you if i could"

"so then go with me!" he almost growls, a hint of irritation and fear in his voice. "come home with me, baby, i'll marry ya' instead. i'll let ya' pick out wherever to live and i'll give ya' as many little oni's as you'd like. hell, sweets, i'll retire from the gang if that's what you ask-"

you shut him up with a bittersweet kiss, tears streaming down your face as you're being bounced in his lap.

"i can't!" you cry, "i can't and it's killing me! i want that too, itto, i wanna run away and stay with you! but i can't, i can't and i'm gonna go crazy if we stop seeing each other because of my future husband!"

once again buried in your shoulder, itto continues rocking into you and groans. he's hiding your face, and you know why - he doesn't want you to see just how devastated he is.

"fuck, never gonna stop seein' ya', love bug.. never... and don't even give a fuck that you'll have to explain to your fuckin' husband why all your babies have horns, why each and every one of 'em looks nothin' like him..."

you laugh at his statement. you want to reply something, but all that comes out of your mouth is a moan of his name.

"yeah, that's right.. that's right, fuck, baby, yeah? not his name, yeah? not on his lap, not his face buried in these pretty tits, not coming around his dick, hm? yeah, yeah!"

you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement, way too absorbed by euphoria to form words.

"that's it, that's it sweets, yeah? 'ts okay, 'ts okay, baby, come. fuck, come around my dick, will ya'? come on your oni, make sure they all know that a demon fucked ya', that a demon none of them would get even close to stuffed ya' full, hm? wanna have you dripping at the thought of me as you marry him, yeah?"

you could hear the jealousy practically dripping from his words as he lost himself in his thrusts, hips eagerly chasing his high. you obey his command, reaching your peak and collapsing on his chest as you ride the waves of pleasure. the smell of sakura petals from his skin hits your nose, and suddenly, you never want to leave his perfectly, inescapably safe touches.

"ooohhh, fuckkkkk, baby..." he groans as he finally finds his release, shallowly thrusting into you as rope after rope of warmth fill your insides. after a few moments he stills, arms wrapped tightly around you.

you stay in his embrace the rest of the night, letting him peck at the skin of your shoulders and neck while you gently bite his beefy body. not a word was said, both of you far too afraid to speak. this might have been the last time you ever see each other, and neither of you wanted to ruin the comfortable afterglow of your love-making.

soon, the time of your return comes and you have to unwillingly unglue yourself from his arms. you get out of the spring, dressing back into your robe as you hand him a towel, your legs still slightly wobbly.

"goodbye, my oni" you say shakily, pressing a feathery kiss right above his lips.

"see you next week in here, sweets" he says, but he can't be certain of that - he can't be certain he'll ever see you again.

"yeah," you whisper, eyes full of tears, "see you, itto"

you turn around, leaving back to your estate with waterfalls of tears pouring down your cheeks. you could still faintly feel your grip on him as you lie alone in your bed, only the image of his crimson eyes and white mane running through your mind.

your oni. the man you love. the man who loves you, endlessly.

the demon you can't be with. because demons and pretty commissioner's daughters didn't go together in inazuma.

you sigh as you look out your window, your view spreading to the yashiori island, knowing your love was somewhere out there, asleep under the stars, probably dreaming of you. tears fill your eyes once more as you look around your room, the supplies you collected over the past few weeks lying readily.

soon, you'd escape, and run away to itto. you weren't giving up on him, and you begged all seven archons for him not to give up on you, too.

[prettiestofpisces]

could you write a stewie comfort sex fix of reader comforting her after the finals loss last year?

Breanna Stewart x Reader

🤍: smut, thigh riding

love your feed back, thank you…muah

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tears streamed down stewies face as soon as she entered the car. she was angry, angry at herself as she was unable to play breanna stewart basketball tonight.

you couldn’t bring yourself to console nor comfort stewie being her feelings were so fresh. you didn’t want to invalidate all the hurt going on inside.

therefore the car ride home was silent, new york street lights illuminating the salty streaks that fell from breanna.

once you’d arrive home the silence was disrupted by breanna slamming the car door shut.

startled, all you do is stare.

she walks around the front of the car to meet you at the door to your house.

“for fucks sake, i was named mvp and played like that…” her tone of voice soft yet sharp.

“baby you’re going to be okay. you had an off night and sandy still trusted you every single second” your keys jingled as you unlocked the door.

walking inside your home with her head held low, her voice trembles “she trusted me and i couldn’t deliver, i wasn’t able to capitalise on a single play”

you turned around to see the love of your life sulking in pity.

“breanna mackenzie stewart, enough!”

“you and i both know what you’re capable of, so does the world, sandy, and the 11 other women in that liberty uniform”

you grabbed her face to look at you.

“please baby give yourself some grace”

lacing your hand in hers you guide her to your bedroom “i’m going to run you a bath, so you can rejuvenate and just relax, okay?”

entering the bathroom you run the water in the tub. as it fills, steam expels from the bath and you assist breanna in taking off her clothes.

“c’mere baby…” you start with her shirt, moving on to her sports bra, topless stewie folds her arms over chest.

bringing her sweats and boxers down to her ankles she kicks them off and is ready to step foot in the hot water.

before allowing her to, you throw in some salts and essential oils in attempt to calm her nerves.

dipping her toes in breanna submerges the rest of her body and every muscle that makes up her 6’4” stature untenses.

“babe, will you join me?” she looks at you with glossy eyes.

“of course my love.”

you proceed to remove your own clothing which consisted of a dress and panties.

dropping down into the tub as well you straddle breanna.

her palms come to rest in the small of your back while her face lays on your bare chest, your breast doubling as pillows. she lets out a deep sigh against your soft skin and you remain in this position for another ten or so minutes.

suddenly breanna’s body shakes repeatedly, emotions swallowing her whole.

“please baby i hate to see you cry, tell me what i can do, anything.” you hug her head burying her face deeper into your chest.

you give her a moment to collect herself, and she slowly lifts her head with a sniffle.

“i want you to make yourself feel good, like you always do for me…”

“…i want you to ride my thighs” again her voice soft, not demanding at all, however you rush to have her thighs against your puffy clit.

situating yourself over one of her muscular legs, breanna takes hold of your waist and grinds your hips down.

the warm water and dragging of your clit swarming your body with pleasure.

“you make me feel so good stewie” you slurred

“what’s that honey?” she says.

“win or lose my pussy is yours” still, your words almost incomprehensible.

it didn’t matter to breanna what you said, she knew she made you hot, bothered, and soaked, even outside the tub.

“come all over me princess”

breanna takes one hand from your waists to grab a handful of your boob, her mouth latching onto the other.

“shit shit shit” you grind a little harder.

“i’m almost there” edging yourself on.

water splashed outside of the tub soaking the ground however neither of you dared to care as it was a problem for later.

the water cooled but the steam from you body heat made its way to the air, thickening it.

with one more rough thrust against her thigh you feel yourself squirt, adding to the liquid in the bath already.

“fuck baby i love you so god damn much” your body convulses over and over as you ride out your orgasm.

you connect lips with hers and share the most passionate kiss. breanna murmurs “i love you too” in between kisses. once separated a string of saliva trails from your mouths.

you make an effort to catch your breath.

“tell me you’re feeling better because i sure as hell am” you heave.

“as long as you feel good, so do i” she looks at you with utter fulfilment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[frvnkcastles]

SET MY WORLD ON FIRE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with sex because of pain but want to give it a try with Frank.

Warnings: Female reader, feminine nicknames, light smut

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: Soooo I’m back with another PTSD related fic. I rarely write smut anymore but I wanted to do something like this because surprise surprise, it’s something I deal with. I suffer from chronic pain called vulvodynia, which is kinda similar to vaginismus I guess, and it makes having sex very painful or even impossible. There isn’t a lot of information about it available but I’m pretty sure it can be connected to (C-)PTSD or trauma in general (also other anxiety disorders). And I just think Frank would be so understanding and a safe person to try new things with. That’s all, thank you for reading <3

Your breathing was heavy as you rested on your back, your eyes locked with Frank’s as he hovered above you on the bed, and your fingers running through the coarse hairs on the back of his head. The air was tense and there was a ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach, but deep down, you were excited, too. And most importantly, you trusted Frank. You knew that the moment would be over with your say-so, and he’d be off of your body within seconds, but so far, you were willing to push your limits.

”Gorgeous girl”, he muttered while caressing your cheek and traveling down to grip your jaw softly, just enough to tilt your head up so he could lean down to kiss your neck. His lips left a trail of goosebumps and you closed your eyes to fully revel in the feeling, your arms hanging around his neck and your legs around his hips.

His name escaped your lips and you could feel his mouth curling up into a smile against your skin. ”Yeah, sweetheart?” he rasped, lifting his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. He took in the sight of you, eyes squeezed shut and a mixture of pleasure and anxiety twisting your features. ”Hey, look at me”, he demanded gently, and licking your lips, you met his gaze only to feel even more vulnerable under the intensity of it.

”Y’know nothin’ happens without your permission, yeah? ’M just here to go at your pace. You got nothin’ to worry about, I promise”, he explained, tilting his head at you, and slowly, you managed a nod.

You had wanted this for a long time. You had wanted him for a long time. But no matter how strong that desire in you grew, you knew that your body wasn’t on the same page with you, that regardless of your feelings, it would hurt. And when you had told Frank as much, he had sworn to be gentle with you, to proceed as slowly as you needed him to, with promises of being honored you’d trust him with it.

”Breathe for me, pretty girl”, he encouraged, and swallowing, you inhaled deeply through your nose, and following his example, you exhaled through your mouth. ”There ya go”, he smiled at you before biting his lip and deciding to dip a toe in the waters. ”Can I touch you?”

Your breath got stuck in your throat, but once again, you nodded. ”Yes, please”, you requested quietly, and satisfied, Frank let his hands venture across your body. You were already reduced to just your underwear, making it easy for his thick fingers to graze against your skin and glide down between your legs. He was careful, but you still tensed up, and he could immediately tell. You stared at the ceiling and tried to keep your breathing balanced, but you were scared.

”Want me to stop?” Frank asked, but despite the fear bubbling in your chest, you immediately shook your head.

”I want to feel you”, you admitted, and chuckling softly, Frank nodded.

He tried his best to be gentle, but you still gasped sharply at the feeling of his finger prodding, and Frank’s chest ached at the idea of causing you any pain. Nevertheless, when you didn’t tell him to stop, he pushed further, and somewhere within his movements, the initial pain melted into a warm, pleasant feeling.

”This okay?” he whispered, peppering your face with kisses as he moved his hand back and forth, and nodding rapidly, you clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle any stray moans about to slip out. Frank noticed in an instant and with his free hand wrangled your palm away from your face, wanting to hear everything.

”It’s good. It’s really good”, you breathed out, and with a crooked smile, Frank leaned his forehead against yours and kissed the air out of your lungs. His lips were like magic, just like his fingers, and the combined sensation of the two had you seeing stars, speechless as you writhed under the weight of his body.

Before you could reach your climax, though, Frank withdrew his hand from you, and when you whined at the loss, his grin widened. ”Shh, sh, it’s okay. Be patient f’me, baby”, he reassured before wetting his lips and looking down at where your bodies were about to connect.

”We’ll take it slow, yeah? I got you, sweetheart. Tell me to stop and I will”, he promised you, and with an impatient nod, you agreed to his words. It was a terrible mix to be both needy and scared, to want him more than anything in the world but dread that you wouldn’t be able to go through it. But Frank was endlessly patient with you, and like he had sworn, his movements were languid and careful.

The grunt that rose from his throat when he entered you made you want to keep going. You would have done anything for him in that moment. The exertion of being slow was obvious on his creased forehead, but he didn’t break his promise — he slid in slowly, pausing as soon as you sucked in a pained breath.

”Hurts”, you croaked out, wringing your eyes shut, and immediately jumping to action, Frank smoothed the lines in the corners of your eyes.

”Hey, hey, don’t worry. I ain’t movin’ ’til you tell me to, aight?” Frank whispered, and with a gulp, you nodded.

”Maybe… maybe if you… make small movements back and forth”, you proposed, and humming in response, Frank kissed your forehead.

”You know what to do if it ain’t feelin’ right”, he noted before inching his hips forward just the slightest, then pulling back and repeating the motion. It was an attempt to get you used to him, and it had you huffing and puffing with the hopes of remembering to breathe through it, but it didn’t seem like the pain was going anywhere.

”This would be a lot easier if you were… smaller”, you pointed out with a wry smile, earning a snort from Frank.

”Wanna stop?” he asked again, but you shook your head.

”I think I can take a little more”, you said hopefully, and with concern shining in his eyes, Frank nodded reluctantly and made a firmer thrust, only for you to immediately regret it.

Your hands flew to his chest to push him away, and reacting quickly, Frank pulled out and watched the ache bloom on your face. With a frustrated huff, you ran a palm across your features, and as Frank got off of you and knelt on the bed, you sat up, as well.

”You okay, sweetheart? Shit, I shoulda— I didn’t wanna hurt ya”, he stammered, hands hovering over you, not sure if it was okay to touch you.

Pursing your lips in a sad smile, you took his hand and squeezed. ”I’m okay. It’s not your fault”, you told him quietly. Nonetheless, regret blossomed in Frank’s chest as he watched you curl up and wrap your arms around your knees bashfully. But when he saw the look on your face, he knew you were feeling much worse than he was.

”Hey, it ain’t your fault either, ya know that, right?” he spoke up, tilting his head down to catch your gaze, which you expertly avoided. Frustrated tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away.

”I guess”, you shrugged. ”It just doesn’t seem fair to you. To—to get you all worked up, and then I can’t even—I can’t—”, you tried to explain, but Frank hastily shot down your anxieties.

”You don’t owe me anythin’. Just ’cause you make me turned on, and trust me, you really do, I don’t expect you to do anythin’ ’bout it. It ain’t fun for me if it ain’t fun for you”, he stated matter-of-factly, his fingertips caressing your arm as he sat closer to you.

”I guess we can always do other stuff”, you tried to see the positive in the situation, and with an encouraging smile, Frank opened his arms for you, and you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the welcoming embrace.

”That’s right, sweetheart. I’m happy to use my fingers if that felt good. Would love to get my mouth on you”, he whispered into your ear, and with blush creeping to your cheeks, you covered your face with both hands and giggled. ”And if you ever wanna do the same for me, that’s more than enough. Or if you want to try this again some other time, I’m okay with exploring. There’s no pressure”, Frank went on, and with a genuine smile, you gave him a grateful look.

”Sorry for ruining the mood. I really do want you, you know”, you wanted him to know, and with half a smile, Frank kissed you.

”Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I know”, he sighed, his hand caressing your hair tenderly. ”How ’bout we order some food and maybe you’ll feel better?” he proposed then, and full of adoration for the man and all his patience and understanding.

”Thank you, Frankie.”

The guilt in you began to dissipate eventually, and underneath all the frustration, you felt lucky to have someone like Frank. Someone who you could trust to take care of you, someone who was okay with taking things slow. It hadn’t always been the case with other men, but with Frank, you felt safe. You felt like it would be okay, regardless of the outcome.

[bts-trash-blog]

Best Of Us Hidden Moments

A Hidden Moment following the event of Chapter 24: Never

Summary: just little moments that I thought up their after posting a chapter or just didn't flow like I wanted to

Pairing: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby Omega!Reader

Warning: A/O/B!Vers, angst, fluff, smut(all the warnings on the main story tbh)

A/n: dipping my toes back into the BOU universe with a little hidden moment after the last chapter of BOU I posted well over a year ago(almost two). And god I’ve missed it. This isn’t my official comeback just something for all of you that have stuck around while I found my passion for writing again:) thank you all so much.

PREV...._.Next

You were hot-sticky and thirsty. Three things you absolutely hated-yet you didn't want to leave the panting pile of cuddles. Namjoons was sloppily kissing your shoulder as his fingertips dragged shapes into your skin. Hoseok was on your other side, his lips pressed to the top of your head as your body rested against his chest. Your mind in a haze-dropping into something you could only explain as a blanket of softness- a feeling you’ve never truly felt before as you entered a full drop. You’ve only ever heard of this feeling from your friends, and even then their words don't even come close to this feeling. Light. You felt light for the first time since your first heat, even then it didn’t feel like this.

Your mind is has gone completely blank-your breath slowing more and more with every passing second. Your eyes slowly closing as your fingertips start to mimic the shapes that Namjoon was drawing against you on Hoseok's chest. The feeling of your head rising and falling with each of his breath brought you closer and closer to sleep. Then it's like something snapped in you as Hoseoks grabs a piece of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. It felt like a crashing wave against cracked glass, your shoulders slightly tenseing, so slight you wouldn’t have guessed anyone would have noticed. But you were wrong. It had Hoseok's hand moving under your chin and lifting your head up to look up at him.

“Hi there princess- you there?” His voice was soft- his nose nudging against yours as you shook your head slowly blinking up at him as he chuckled softly at you. “Okay-what about you baby boy?” He asked as the Omega behind you grunted, his chin hooking over your shoulder as you heard him letting out a soft breath.

“I'm good. Just happy.” Namjoons words had Hoseok's chuckling as you blush. Your mind slowly coming back more and more as you grew cold. You’re naked. Holy shit you’re naked.

“Can I get the sheet or something?” You mumbled softly voice slightly shaking. Hearing Namjoon sigh a kiss dragging across your shoulder as he lifted himself from your back. His hand moved to pull you from Hoseok’s chest-a playful growl passing said Alphas lips as you roll onto your back. Your eyes look up and meet his-fuck-they’re blow out and glossed over his swollen lips parted and glossy. The way he gives you a soft smile he suddenly dives on top of you, making a grunt leave your lips. His hips pressed against yours, the feeling of his boxers against your still bare sensitive cunt had your inventory buckling up into him. “Sensitive.” You whimper as he chuckles at you his lips pressing to your scent glands as one of his hands moves down to rub against your outer thigh. One of your hands automatically falls into his messy hair, his breathing almost turned into a purring sounds as a giggle filling the room as you look over to your Alpha. Hoseoks eyes were soft, smile big and his scent was minty pushing around you like a fresh breeze. “Still cold-and kinda naked.” You mumble making the two men laugh as you feel Namjoon rub his cheek against your shoulder.

“Just how we like it-well besides the cold-shit you are cold.” Hoseok mumbled when his hand moved from where it was in your hair to your bare none Namjoon filled should. You watch as the Alphas eyes widen then his body quickly diving down and pulling the flat sheet of the bed over the two of you. His own body stays out from it making your lips turn from a teasing smile to a pout as he tucks the two of you in.Huffing at the Alpha as he tries to leave the bed-hand leaving Namjoons hair your hand wraps around his wrist. Landing back onto his knees on the bed he bends down, one hand landing next to your head as the other cups your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Making you mind draw a blank- any and all awareness of being nude underneath Namjoon going away. When he pulls away a pout falls right back onto your lips making him smile down at you, his hand moving to soothe your hair down, then moves his hand to rest on the back of Namjoons head.

“Joonie? Keep pup warm for Alpha-gotta get you guys clean, gonna run the shower. I'll be right back I promise.” His words had the male on top of you nodding as you close your eyes, fingers threading back through Namjoons hair. The feeling of the Omegas lips pressing along your collarbone-the feeling brought chills under every spot he touched. The soft feeling was making you slowly drift as your heart the bathroom door close.

When the feeling of Namjoon lips started to press roughly against your skin-it had your eyes opening. Confusion as the sweet scent of peaches started to go sour. He’s sad? Why is he sad? Does he regret it? Your fingers stopped moving as he let out a shaken breath when he pulled away and looked at you. His eyes wide, blown out as tears suddenly line his eyes making your other leg wrap around his waist rolling the two of you over. Following your instincts without a single thought as you land on top of his chest.

“Omega?” You wonder out loud, hand moving wrapping around his head as your forehead pressed against his. It makes him chirp as his hand rests on top of your thighs, the sound of him swallowing as he takes another shaky breath in had your tilting your head as on of your hands moves to his chin. Moving his forhead to alone with yours as your rested agains him. “Joonie?”

“I thought you were gonna leave us. Leave me. That we ruined everything…that I ruined everything.” He rambles out-it was jumbled together into a whisper of words as you ‘shush’ him though he shakes his head as he blinks. A tear falling down, your thumb caching it as he looks up at you. “Every single second up till this point I thought you’d leave.”

“Joonie, what?” You whisper, making him close his eyes “I was hurt-mad but I wasn’t gonna leave you over this.” You feel as he takes a deep breath in as he smiles softly as his eyes open again. Though his eyes held a twist of sadness as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin nodding. “Do..so you need to talk about it more?” He closes his eyes, twitching his nose as he nods. Eyes opening back up as you give him a soft smile.

“I’m terrified I’m gonna end up being alone.” His voice was a feather like whisper as he kept his eyes locked with yours. “It’s why I’ve alway been so possessive over Hobi and Yoon-what..what if they find someone new? Better more Omega- and just leave? Just leave me?” His voice tapered off as his eyes closed and his scent was rotten pears, overly sweets peaches and soured sweet cream. It had you wanting to almost gag-hearing the shuffling a feet and the smell of Hoseok pushing his scent under the door had you and the Omega below you relax. “I don't know why..just…people leave. I didn't want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave. I need you with me-with our Alphas.” He takes a deep breath in, pink tongue peaking out from his lips as he blinked up at you. The slight gleam of his tears had you hand moving to cup his cheek thumb wiping under his eye as you nod, making him swallow as his eyes close. “Every single one of my partners before the boys left-said I was too much or-or just not enough. That I was the only problem.So I get in my head-and it's hard to get out of it with a new situation…and you’re new.”

“I get that.” You whisper, making him nod eyes open as he leans up lips pressing against yours as a smile lift onto your lips. It makes him smile his dimples in show as you nuzzle your nose to his. “New is hard-change is hard. Time…time helps a lot with change.”

“The boys have also helped a lot they always help me process my thoughts like this…” he pauses as you feel his hand slid from one of your thighs up your hips to your lower back. “Though with you everything is so new and I don’t want to fuck this up and every which way it feels like I am.” You raise your eyebrow, a question on your lips as he sighs up at you-the sound of running water makes your heart speed up. Hoseoks slowly cracked the door, your eyes meeting as you glare softly making his eyes widen as he shuts the door. “See I just fucked up-alpha is trying to do aftercare and I’m making it all about me.” his eyes close-tears falling as you shake your head lips pressing across his cheeks. Every breath he took he seemed to check on, gets each kiss you press seemed to steady his lungs. As you finally land your lips back onto his, the feeling of him finally catching his breath had relief fill you chest. Pulling away hair falling ino your face making you huff. One of his hands reached up, pushing it back over your shoulders.

“Joonie-I want it to be about you-my life is going to be you…and stop saying you’re fucking up baby.”

“But I do-I always fuck up.”

“How? How have you fucked up?”

“I mean I tried to attack you when I first met you.”

“I mean now that I know what you have it makes sense.” Your words had a giggle passing up his chest as his hand moved to grab one of yours, fingers threading together. His lips pressed against your hands as he looked back up at you.

“Or when-when I growled at Bambam.”

“I mean I’d do the same.”

“I’ve growled at your mother.”

“I’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t ask enough questions at the start.”

“You have time now.”

“But what if I’m not enough?” You pause, smile dropping as you move down, pressing your forehead back against his as you take a deep breath in. Hair falling caging your faces together as the sound of the shower running and Hoseok's whistling as the afternoon sun cast between the rooms blackout currents and it gleams against Namjoons skin through your strands of hair. How could he ever think he wasn’t enough? You felt your eyes water, and you felt yourself finally resting fully against him, weighing him down with you entirely. You give him a broken smile as you traced his lips down to his chin with your pointer finger. How could he ever be less than this? Less than perfect. “What if you do leave me? Leave us?”

“Are you gonna leave me?” Your question had him sitting up, your body sliding down to his thighs as he grabs your face and glares.

“Never.” You smile brightly, head tilting as your legs move to wrap behind him as you feel the sheet slip down, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him.

“And I wouldn’t want to ever leave you.” You pause your eyes closing as you press your forehead against his. “I’m new with…all of this and the three of you have made me feel so safe…for the most part.” You mumble under your breath as you look into his eyes. “One mistake-one that you three didn’t know was one-isn’t gonna have me leaving.” The words that passed your lips had a rattling breath leave him as you give him a bright smile. Arms wrapped around him as you being to rock the two of you, chirps passing your lips as you notice his scent slowly twisting back. Pears and peaches ripe and sweet. Just how it should be. Hoseok clearing his throat had you blink your eyes open and see at the still very dry Alpha standing at the steam filled bathroom.

“Showers ready.”

“We are too. Come on baby.” You whisper against Namjoon's shoulder pulling away and crawling out of bed. As your feet meet the floor Hoseok was in front of you helping you up out of the bed. A kiss pressed passionately yet softly against your lips has his hand slips from yours to your jaw. It had you breathing a soft puff as he smiled down at you when he pulled away. His nose touching yours as he lets his hands drop from your face.

“Good job pup.” Pride spreads across your chest at the praise given to you. Moving forward and turn waiting for Namjoon as he gets up behind you. “Let's get cleaned up, then we’ll eat.”

“Yay food!” You cheer, making Namjoon giggle as the three of you trail back into the bathroom. You bullying your way into the shower letting the pressurized water spray down on your body first. The heat pelting on your slight tense back as your hand reaches up to go through your hair when you feel your arms sliding around your body. “I'm starving.” You giggle softly making Hoseok laugh as you turn around and sigh as you see his bright smile and bare chest. “I always hear how hungry Lisa or Bam would get after..after stuff and I never got it till now.” You awkwardly giggle as you catch Namjoon slipping into the massive shower his eyes meeting yours. “Anyway…” You trail off blinking quickly as you pull away and look around you the shampoo and conditioner you had used the last time you were here. Seeing it you quickly move to wash it through your hair though Hoseok swats your hand gently away.

“Alpha cleans.” His voice was playful with a smile as you huffed as the feeling of his hands moving to take the shampoo. Soon he was scratching at your scalp making you grunt in response as suddenly Namjoon was moving around the two of you, helping rinse your hair.

“Me next.” He whispered, moving your wet hair to the side and pressing a kiss, quickly you switch places as Hoseok smiles at Namjoon. “Hi Alpha.”

“Hi baby boy. How are you feeling?”

“Better, pup helped a lot.” His words had you look over to Hoseok and smile as the two of you moved to wrap him into your arms. “You guys always help.”

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Can you do one where reader and him are best friends and he walks in on her changing and they both get really flustered? from his pov?

Delicate point of view

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!! So sorry for not getting back to it!! My apps been buggy and hasn’t been showing me any submissions but it’s starting to work again!! I hope you didn’t have to wait too long for this… thank you for the support my loves. I adore each and every one of you!!

This as requested will be in Harry’s POV but I’ll be using ‘him’ I can just write easier that way instead of using ‘I’ and of course adding in ‘you/y/n’ whenever applicable. I hope that’s okay my love. Thank you again for the request!!

Pairings: Harry x insecure! Reader (decided it could make it more cute!!) exact weight/ body not specified to be all inclusive for different insecurities!!

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

-

Harry had, had a busy day at the recording studio. He was a busy man with a busy schedule and sometimes it was impossible to spend time with those he loved however he had found some time to finally spend some time to relax with you— his best friend. You had been his friend for a long time, since childhood practically. You had both seen each other grow. He had seen you on your best days and worst days and had seen you grow into a mature beautiful woman. He always adored you, seeing you as the most gorgeous person ever but he never made any advances upon you. Not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know how you felt, you sometimes seemed like you wanted him but then at other points you seemed to not want him…. Whether that be due to insecurity or fear of something certain he couldn’t of been sure but gods did he wish he could be with you sometimes. You were both intimate people whom adored one another but nothing ever pushed you guys over the edge of dipping your toes into the depths of love.

He slowly pushed your front door open, he had sent you a message letting you know he was coming to yours for a bit and you were in the shower but your phone had been left on the messages so it indicated you had seen it so Harry walked into the home, quietly shutting the door behind him. He then began walking upstairs wandering into your room gently pushing the door open “y/n I’m here and—“ “HARRY!!” His words were cut off by your voice as you stood there wide eyed dressed in just your underwear and bra. “ohhhh… shit.” He cussed as you both stared at each other wide eyed, his eyes trailed up and down your body a flush of red covering his face his green eyes wide as he admired you thoroughly, he could’ve looked at you all day- admiring all the curves on your body. The tone of your skin… the way your skin looked so soft and delectable… it made his heart race. You genuinely looked perfect to him. His eyes continued scanning up and down your body, unable to look away. Harry had always been the perfect match for you, you were insecure and desperately needed someone to uplift you. Sometimes your weight and body in general scared you and Harry didn’t hesitate to- as your best friend- assure you that weight didn’t matter. Assure you that a real man or a real mature human being would love you as you were… but still right now you were scared shitless. What if he thought you were ugly? you were just unable to speak in general too shocked and rather horrified that your handsome best friend was here staring at you practically nude. Your mouth opened and closed over and over again like a fish, unable to get your words out until eventually— “Harry cover your eyes!!!” Came from your lips and Harry quickly threw a hand over his eyes his ring covered fingers covering his eyes “Jesus Christ y/n..” he chuckled shaking his head “don’t peak!! I swear to god harry,” his cheeks were flushed bright red and he only laughed keeping his eyes covered, “don’t laugh Harry oh my god!! How embarrassing. Oh my god my best friend just saw me nude!” He continued chuckling at your rambling and just for your comfort to make you more comfortable he turned around.

His hands rested on his hips as he stared at the door listening to you rummage around clearly trying to get dressed “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so much, y/n.” He spoke. “Because YOU Harry fucking styles!! My BEST FRIEND!! Saw me…. Nude! Saw my body!” He could see your shadow moving slightly proving your hands were moving about as you practically freaked out more. He laughed still bright red “not completely nude…” “Harry! Not the point!” His dimples appeared as he grinned.

He heard you groan slightly as you nearly tripped up from putting on your jeans so quickly, your hands trembling your face flushed and your eyes watering fearfully. Harry was genuinely the kindest human being ever but still it terrified you for him to see you like this. “You okay?” He asked and you nodded, before eventually remembering he couldn’t see you and murmuring a quiet “yeah.”

You pulled on your T-shirt as finally you were fully dressed again and Harry turned around looking at you with a small smile before his smile disappeared “hey… what’s the matter?” His brows furrowed concerned and he walked towards you only for you to step backwards “y/n… hey.” He reached out grabbing onto your trembling hands holding onto your hands securely before he brought your hands up to his lips pressing soft kisses to your hands “what’s wrong. You look like you’re about to cry,” he pointed out concerned for you watching as you tried to shy away but he gently cupped your cheek in his hand. He knew the look on your face, he wasn’t stupid, he saw the insecurity the way the fear and sadness flashed before your eyes and he exhaled softly “let me guess… you’re afraid I think you’re ugly?” His words hurt your heart and you looked at him, your lower lip trembling slightly giving him the answer he needed. Sure you were both only best friends but he was always so tender with you. “Darling… don’t be silly. You’re beautiful inside and out… and seeing you without clothes on…. You’re just more gorgeous.” He spoke with a reassuring smile. “Really?” And he nodded his head “of course really. Cant you see my face..?” He chuckled out and you took time to finally examine his face cheeks bright red, eyes glistening, and a wide smile on his face his dimples very apparent. “Oh…” you trailed off softly and he smiled before holding your face in his hands stroking his thumbs against your cheeks lovingly “you’re so so beautiful… the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Soon in a rather intimate way Harry leaned in to press soft kisses against your forehead, before trailing the kisses down your cheeks, across your nose, to your other cheek and down to your chin gently avoiding your lips “every part of you. Your nose…. Your cheeks… your lips.. your eyes… your body. All of you is… perfection.” He always knew how you were insecure, how you tried to fit in how perfect you tried to be how the pressure of society was nowadays to have a “perfect” body and perfect face. “Do you really think I’m beautiful? Perfect?” You asked with teary eyes and he nodded his head slowly “of course.” He continued stroking his thumbs against your cheeks softly “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again… whatever you weigh. Whatever anybody weighs… to the right person… it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But there’ll always be judgemental people out there… but no matter what my love… you’re beautiful…. Fuck what anyone else thinks. You’re my best friend and I think you’re perfect. I know you’re perfect.”

You smiled staring into his eyes watching as he began getting closer and closer until his lips were brushing against yours in a subtle kiss, as if making sure it was okay with you, but you didn’t respond— too shocked, but at you not pulling back, he took that as a yes and leaned in kissing you more deeply pressing his lips hard against yours but the tenderness remained, his hand caressing against your cheek, before eventually he pulled back after a singular kiss to look into your eyes “and… also…” his thumb brushed against your cheek “butterflies can’t see their wings, but they’re beautiful without knowing it.” His lips curved into a small smile as your smile slowly grew and you leaned in kissing him realising just how perfect you both were for each other… the butterflies within your stomach swirled desperately. Oh how you loved him and oh how he loved you.

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day twenty: vibrators

pairing: phillip graves x reader

word count: 621

notes: happy day twenty! we're in the final stretch of kinktober 2024, and i can't believe how quickly it's gone by. i had to write for my man again, i'm obsessed with him lmao

it wasn’t often you two broke out the toys when you had sex. most days, you hardly even needed them, not with the way you two rolled around in the sheets. your lovemaking was electric, always had been, but that night, he wanted to try something a little different.

you were on your back, your arms around his neck and one of his around your waist, holding you to him as he thrust into you. his hips moved slowly, sensually, each of his thrusts deliberate and well timed. you felt his lips on your neck, kissing his way down to your collarbone, and you closed your eyes with a soft hum.

“mm, god, you feel so damn good, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his free hand fumbling around a bit on the bed beside you. you whined softly as he continued to thrust into you, and suddenly, you heard a faint buzzing sound flick to life.

“hm?” you murmured, jumping a little as he traced a small bullet vibrator along your arm.

“shh, just relax, i got ya,” he whispered, the vibrator tracing over your thigh, and then it was between your legs.

a sharp gasp left your lips as the buzzing toy made contact with your sensitive folds, ghosting over your clit before coming to rest on it gently. you mewled quietly, still clinging to him as he continued to thrust into you. you felt him chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest as he kissed along your neck, up to your ear. he took your earlobe between his teeth and tugging playfully, then dipped down to nuzzle your neck.

“phil, shit …” you breathed, and he pressed more kisses to your skin.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, nipping at your jaw to leave a little red mark.

“feels so good,” you confirmed, smiling breathlessly.

“knew it would.” he went back to kissing your neck, his thrusts still slow and lazy. this wasn’t about the rush, it was simply about the pleasure. neither of you had anywhere to be, no plans, no deployments or assignments. it was rare you got to just be together, and he wanted to make the most of it.

he moved the vibrator in slow circles, listening to the way your breath hitched every time it merely brushed against your clit. you rolled your hips against it, and against his, listening to the way he groaned.

“gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, nipping at your neck with a soft chuckle.

“maybe that’s the plan,” you countered, and he pressed the toy to your folds once again, making you cry out briefly.

“ah ah, think carefully next time,” he teased.

you huffed and cupped the back of his head, guiding him down so you could press a kiss to his lips. he groaned again as he returned it, and he pressed the vibrator to your clit once more.

“c’mon baby, cum for me,” he muttered against your lips, his voice muffled. “cum for me like a good girl. that’s it …”

you whimpered softly, your legs wrapping around his hips and one of your hands fumbling for the vibrator. he laughed softly as you grasped it and tossed it aside, feeling the muscles in your abdomen tense. then, your orgasm hit you harder than you were expected, the build up taking you by surprise. you gasped and clung to him, hiding your face against him as your toes curled and eyes squeezed shut. 

as you calmed down, he kissed your cheek, his hips still moving lazily as he thrust slowly into you.

“that’s the stuff,” he mumbled, capturing your lips in another kiss. “let’s see just how many more you got ~”