#so I'm saying this here so that I can express this without having to water it down and be like “wow i love you guys!!” to them

[bestworstcase]

I totally forget if you've commented on this before, so my apologies if you have and I missed it, but how do you feel about theories regarding Mercury's semblance and/or eyes? what I mean by this is some people think that Mercury actually does have silver eyes or that he does still have a semblance somehow (or could form a new one) and I'm wondering what your stance is. and how the answers to these questions fit into your reading of the narrative as a whole. obviously there's something to be said for Marcus Black being abusive and seemingly killing/stealing a part of his son's soul as a part of that, etc.

ough

i have posted abt this before but it was. a while ago and i can't find the post anymore lmao so take two!!

some facts:

elemental mercury is commonly called quicksilver, and its symbol Hg derives from its older name hydrargyrum, from the greek, meaning "silver water."

mercury is the roman god of trade and eloquence, travel and theft; the divine messenger; and a psychopomp who guides souls of the newly dead to the underworld. 

some more facts:

silver-eyed warriors are symbolically linked to 1. the grim(m) reaper and 2. butterflies, which are commonly and cross-culturally regarded as symbols of death/reincarnation. 

"In Rome one can see a marble bas-relief representing a young man stretched out on a bed, and a  butterfly which, in flight, seems to be exiting the mouth of this dead man, because the ancients, as well as the common people of our day, believed that the spirit leaves through the mouth."

(quirks eyebrow.)

silver eyes have some metaphysical connection to death that goes beyond symbolism: ruby's eyes awaken when she witnesses death and she hears pyrrha's final words in her dreams for months afterward; the light arises from love and grief; salem herself seems to have begun experimenting with silver eyes and resurrection and grimm after cinder's injury. 

the glare itself at least resembles the pure white light of the threshold between life and death (personally, i think it is that light)

the silver-eyed warrior of legend is not a person; she is a hero destined to live and die alone fighting grimm because that is what she is meant for. she exists for no other purpose. (she is the mirror-image of a grimm.)

"All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be. […] You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!"

(quirks eyebrow.)

ok. so, we've got

☑️ a boy with silvery-grey eyes

☑️ alluding to a mythical psychopomp

☑️ named "quicksilver"/"silver water"

☑️ or "keeper of boundaries"

☑️ raised to be a killer/warrior

☑️ violently denied his personhood

☑️ nihilistically feels destined for this life

lol. lmao, even!

some more facts:

when salem wounded ruby's self-image by insinuating that summer rose (really, ruby's imagined ideal self, ruby-rose-without-flaws) confronted salem and failed, ruby's glare struck inward—her conception of herself, her aspirational self, fractured and her light attacked her.

"He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my semblance, he stole it with his! 'This is a crutch! This makes you weak!' He told me I could have it back when I was strong… so I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am!"

semblances are an outward manifestation of the soul, an expression of one's true character, intertwined and inextricable from a person's identity and self-image. 

mercury is extremely toxic. famously. 

quirks. eyebrow.

ok. ok

think about what happened with ruby's eyes solely from hearing salem say "your mother said those words to me; she was wrong, too"—because her conception of herself is so bound up in the idea of summer rose, ideal huntress, the best of us, supermom, perfected reflection of ruby rose, all she wishes she was—confronting the real summer rose, who tried and failed and never came back, fractures ruby's self-identity and precipitates her tailspin in v8-9 and that begins with her light rebounding on her.

(this is because silver eyes require true self-knowledge and clarity of purpose which is why ruby struggles with them, in this essay i will—)

so think about that. and consider the implications for a silver-eyed boy abused and molded from birth into something antithetical to the nature of this magic—a remorseless killer—whose true self was literally stolen from him by his father. and he never got it back. 

(*i think mercury is probably not a reliable narrator in regard to what his father did to him—he was a kid and he's still taking what his horrifically abusive father said to him as objective fact—and i expect he'll find his semblance again in vacuo. but this is what mercury believes is true.)

like. we know silver-eyes can be harmed by their own light: ruby's first glare put her in a coma for several days after beacon fell, and the light turned inward and hurt her when her self-image cracked. right?

gestures: mercury. quicksilver. poison.

(but also: mercury can be used to draw elemental silver from ore.) (patio process)

my theory is that 

mercury does have silver eyes

marcus black's semblance was in a similar vein as tyrian's – painful disruption or forcible suppression of another person's semblance, maybe allowing him to mimic/copy that power

his semblance + his abuse and the things he said of mercury's semblance (it makes you weak, it's a crutch) shattered mercury's sense of identity and completely broke him to the idea that his sole purpose is to obey and kill. 

mercury's light reacted to this shattering by driving inward, like what happened to ruby but far more severe, and that is what caused his semblance to be (apparently) lost forever: his self-image broke in such a fundamental, traumatic way that his own light kept him alive by blinding him to his true self.

but the poison is the cure: if he finds his light again to protect someone he loves (emerald), he unblinds himself / rediscovers the true self he buried and his semblance is resurrected with it. figuratively speaking.

it's death-and-rebirth and psychopomps all the way down

[ilovettrpgs]

i just realized that everything I ever have done and ever will do is because of the love I have for my friends and the fact that I want to ensure I can always find a way to make them happy because to me them being happy is all that matters when they are everything that my world matters and revolves around. There will never be anything more important to me than them because I love them like they're my own family, and I want to live and die for them

[i-like-loserz]

apt for two

pairing: san x reader

cw: smut (18+), drunk!san with needy-desperate vibes (as always), afab!reader, friends-to-lovers, praise kink, mommy kink, handjob, nipple play (m!recieving), breeding kink, unprotected piv, eternal boner (you'll find out), mention of asian glow, san's fancam, not beta-read, etc.

wc: 4k (wow)

note: I WAS SUPPOSED TO FINISH LIKE THREE 1/4 DONE FICS BUT INSTEAD IM DOING THIS :) also i get asian glow too, so i love the representation i'm getting with drunk-teez!

1 shot

tonight was supposed to involve a pregame at your place before bar-hopping, but somebody decided to ditch you and turn in early (wooyoung). of course, it wasn't until 9:30 that you got the text.

you'd been waiting so patiently, only having one drink. you were saving the rest to share with your friends once he arrived. it was supposed to be the three of you, but now it's just--

2 shots

"maybe he's just tired because of work or something?"

san is sweet, trying to lighten your disappointment.

he just took his second shot, barely wincing as he swallows it quickly before gently setting the glass back on the counter -- you can tell he's trying to hide his distaste for the liquor.

"he's just hungover because he decided to go out without us last night, sannie..." you drone, "he's probably sleeping off the club."

"hm, you're probably right. but if he were here, it probably wouldn't be that fun if he's hungover."

"that's true..."

you pour another round of shots.

3 shots

"hey, let's play a game." san looks at you with bright eyes.

you can see it already -- the flush spreading across his cheeks. for such a big guy, he sure get tipsy easily.

"what kind of game? there's only the two of us."

"how about...apateu?"

"with two people?" he nods with a cute little smile. how could you deny him? "sure, if you want"

5 shots (for san)

you bite back an adoring smile as you watch san down a second shot. his expressions are a lot freer now, letting himself wince just from the smell of tequila, followed by a grossed-out groan after he takes it.

"okay, maybe we should stop. you've lost twice already." he's not very good at this game -- even when you let him pick the number for each turn.

"no, no, let's go again!" his eyes are glazed over, lids heavy from the liquor as he tries to convince you to continue.

you let a smile crack as you watch him sway prettily in front of you, "...you seem a lot more drunk than me though."

"hm?" he smiles back, "that's okay? right?"

you can't help but laugh at his adorableness. he picks up your shot glass and nudges it closer to you.

"just take one, so we're even."

it might just be the liquor, or that pretty blush on his face, but you're feeling bold.

"mm, but you had two, baby."

you say it so casually, yet he reacts to that word immediately. his expression is quickly replaced with something needy.

oh, so he liked that....

"t-then take two." he suggests with a stutter.

you pour yourself one more, right to the brim, and he watches on in awe. you drink it easily, enjoying the way san's eyes stare at your lips as you lick them clean.

"i don't think we're gonna make it to the bars tonight." you tease.

his small shy smile returns, "just stay here...with me, then."

5 shots + a glass of water (for san)

you guide san to the couch with a glass of water in your hand.

barely a few steps from the kitchen counter, he makes you stop for a moment so he can clumsily lace his fingers with yours.

"it's more secure" he murmurs shyly.

you don't say anything as you continue to lead him into the living room, but when you turn away you're biting your lip to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

you're afraid that your cuteness aggression will scare him away.

he immediately picks up a pillow to snuggle against his chest as he sits down. always needing something in his lap...

he looks up at you, all pink cheeks and smiles, as you set the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him.

you sit down next to him and settle against the plush seat with a sigh.

"what now?" he asks eager and curious.

eager for what?

"well, first, drink some water," san obediently takes a few sips of water as you continue to speak, "do you want to watch a movie or something?"

you were planning on letting him crash on the couch, but how could you leave him when he's looking at you like that?

"hm..." he puts the glass down before looking back at you with a shy expression, "can we watch something else?"

"like what?"

"can i show you some of my fancams?"

"...fancams...?"

"yeah, i want to show you how i look in concert."

you almost giggle from how shy he's being. isn't tequila supposed to make you bolder?

"sannie, i've been to your concerts."

he pouts -- actually pouts, "but you haven't seen them like this!"

how could you deny him?

"ok, ok, let's have a look then."

you try to give him the remote to look it up, but he immediately struggles to type with it -- even turning off the tv at some point -- so you have to take over.

"so it's...'san fancam--'" you press in each letter individually.

"'--ice on my teeth 241115'" he finishes for you.

"...1...5..."

you finally type it all in and click on the video. you see woo (the ditcher of the night, you remind yourself) crouching in front of a sleekly dressed san, who looks very different from the soft and cuddly man next to you.

"how do you remember all of the numbers for the title?" you question as you finally relax back onto the couch.

he shrugs, "i dunno, i just do -- wait, start it over, we were talking during the start!"

"san, it's been like, two seconds."

"please??"

you start it over to placate him.

as you watch the video, you notice how quiet he is next to you.

he must be really into his own fancams...

you get it though. you've never watched his fancams before (you've only seen woo's because he forces you to binge them with him whenever you facetime), but he looks really good in that long coat, glasses, and with his hair slicked back like that, hitting every note with that stupidly handsome look on his face.

he looks so serious...so domineering. delectable.

so...not how you usually see him.

you turn to look at him, wondering if he's just as entranced by himself as you are -- but he's already looking at you.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you're caught ogling your friend, right in front of him.

"so...? do you like it?"

"yeah, it was a good performance, san."

"sannie." he corrects, "do you really like it, or are you just saying that?"

"no, i really like it--"

"which part? do you like the outfit? a lot of people say they like that outfit on me the most. but there's also one where i have on a see-through top..." he starts to ramble.

oh, now you know what he's looking for.

your voice is soft as you coo to him, "you looked great up there, sannie. so talented...and handsome." he smiles sheepishly as you compliment him, "did you show this to me because you wanted to show off? show me how good you are in front of a crowd?"

now he's shy.

"just wanted to know if you liked what you see."

you cradle his face with your hand, "you're so cute, baby," he melts against your touch, nuzzling his warm cheek against you, "just want some praise, hm?"

it's crazy that you have this man falling apart for you with a few words and a bare touch of your hand.

on stage, he looks so regal and put together.

right here? he looks undeniably soft and malleable.

"do you like me?"

"of course, i do." you caress his cheek with your thumb, enjoying the heat that radiates off his skin, "you're a sweetheart."

"no, like, do you like-like me?" his eyes meet yours, wide with hope and yearning.

"what, are we in middle school?" you tease.

he whines softly, "im serious"

you ignore his question and throw it back at him.

"do you like me?"

he's hesitant, timid, but eventually --

"mhm."

"oh really? since when?"

"since forever."

"why didn't you tell me?"

"because..." san briefly looks away, "because i don't know if you like me"

your hand drifts from his jaw to his chin. you can't help but admire his perfect features -- his fluffy hair, dark brows, intense eyes, cute nose, and...his lips.

you carefully glide your thumb over his pretty bottom lip, enamored by how pretty and pink it is.

he stutters out a breath.

"and if i do?"

"c-can you kiss me?" he sounds so sweet and timid when he asks. his eyes eagerly glance down at your lips as you drag his bottom lip down, revealing his pearly white teeth.

you're mesmerized by his mouth. you press against his perfect teeth and he opens up immediately, letting you drag your thumb against his soft tongue. he sucks it in, laving sweetly against the sensitive pad of your finger as he stares up at you, eager to please.

"such a good boy~"

he whines, brows furrowing in desperate need. what a sweet sound.

you move your hand from his mouth so you can get in a better position. you shift from the couch to his lap, wanting to feel his body against yours. his arms immediately loop around your body, finding your waist so he can press you closer.

you dip in, hand at the base of his neck to control him, and nudge your nose against his -- just to tease him. he tries to push up and press his lips to yours, but you stop him, hand firmly holding him back.

"what am i gonna do with you?" you shake your head, "silly boy..."

he looks confused, brows tighten together endearingly, an expression that's slightly embarrassed.

"i-i thought you wanted to kiss."

"did i say that?"

"n-no, but--"

"you think you're so pretty that anyone would let you hit?" your hand moves up to the center of his neck. you press gently on the sides of his throat, pulling a groan from his lips. "mm...maybe you are pretty..."

he shivers from the praise. you can tell he's trying to hold back, but he's still subtly trying to move his hips under you, desperate for any type of friction.

"please? just one kiss?"

"just one?" you ghost your lips on his.

he whimpers at the feeling. you guess his lips are especially sensitive.

"please"

you give in, leaning against his silky pink lips. you feel him melt against you, sighing into it like it's the sweet relief of water in a barren desert. he desperately attempts to pull you closer by your waist, but you're already firmly pressed against him.

he deepens the kiss, delicately licking against the seam of lips before diving in and dragging his tongue against yours. you taste the tequila and lust -- it makes you hungry for more. he moans prettily when you nip at his lips, sucking on the sweet, sensitive skin until it gets all puffy and plump.

when you break the kiss, he attempts to chase your lips for more, not ready to separate. you dodge his advances with an amused smile, loving how needy he is already.

"you said one kiss"

"mmm, i think i messed up on that one..." he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips as he stares hungrily at yours, eyelids heavy but gaze wanting, "can we try again?"

“maybe if you earn it again…”

he groans, “fuck,” he presses his hips against yours, making you feel how hard he is under his pants, “but i need you so bad, mommy.”

hearing that word slip from his beautiful lips almost makes you melt into a puddle, right on his lap. if it weren’t for the way you were straddling him, your thighs would’ve immediately pressed together from the amount of need you were feeling. 

you press down on him just as eagerly, panting from the pressure of his hard cock against your aching clit. 

"yeah? you gonna be a good boy and fill me up?"

"mhmm~" his deep voice drones, vibrating from his chest against yours, "please let me -- i need to be inside of you."

you roll your hips against him, coaxing cute whimpers from him with every press.

"think you deserve it?" you taunt. san can't even answer you, merely nodding with his eyes squeezed shut, reveling in the feeling of your body grinding against his.

your hands move down from his neck, over his chest and stomach before settling right against his covered cock. you can feel the way he twitches under his pants, desperately begging for attention.

he groans when you press against him, the minimal pressure is already too much for him to handle.

"you're already so hard for me." you stroke him over his pants, feeling the perfect contours of his erection even when separated by the fabric.

"m'always hard for you" he slurs, hips subtly flexed upwards in an attempt to feel more of you.

"let me see." you unbutton his pants with ease and use a bit of force to pull them off just far enough to reveal his pretty cock and the top of his legs. his blushing tip weeps delicately with beads of cum, already spilling against his shaft -- evidence of how close he already is to the edge.

when you wrap your hand around him, his body stiffens and his hands instantly grip over the top of your thighs to ground himself.

"w-wait...not yet--" he begs, head thrown back in ecstasy.

you haven't even done anything yet.

"sannie," you can feel him throbbing against your fingers, "baby, are you okay?"

"d-don't move." he shudders, "i m-might--"

you watch his facial expressions closely as you squeeze your fist around him, nearly drooling from the way his eyebrows scrunch together with intensity.

"oops..." you fail to hide your smile but it doesn't matter, he can't see it anyway. you swipe your thumb against the edge of his tip, massaging that sweet spot as his legs begin to shake.

you slip your other hand under his shirt, feeling up his muscled torso to his heaving chest. his skin is warm and smooth against your fingers and it makes you want to leave pretty marks all over him.

his back arches when you lazily drag your index finger against his nipple. you circle your finger around it experimentally and the needy bud hardens from your teasing touch.

"sensitive boy..." you hum.

he whimpers sweetly, "t-too much--"

you ignore his words and pinch his nipple. his mouth opens and he's barely able to take a handful of breaths before he's crying out in broken moans and thrusting against your hand. you work him through it with hushed praises, letting him fuck your fist until he's too weak to continue.

you take your other hand and run your fingers through his hair lovingly as his climax moves through him before caressing the back of his flushed neck. his overstimulated body shivers against your gentle touch, but he still leans into it.

he made a mess.

his cum spurted all over -- spilling over your hand and dripping on your lap -- so now, your pants (and his) are ruined. when san finally calms down a bit, he peeks down at the mess as well.

"i-i'm sorry, i tried to hold it in..." he stares at you with rounded eyes, sparkling with shame and embarrassment.

you tilt your head as you regard the flushed man before you, "if you're gonna be so messy, clean it up." he cowers slightly at your taunting words.

"h-how..."

you lift the hem of his shirt wordlessly and -- after a moment of confusion -- he obediently raises his arms to let you take it off. he watches on with a surprised expression as you bundle it up and use it to wipe your hands and lap.

"what? you thought i'd make you lick it up?" you tease, "didn't know you were that much of a pervert."

"i-no, i d-don't know." he stammers.

you accidentally brush against him as you're cleaning up and his body jolts harshly from the feeling. you gently move the shirt away and notice that he's still hard.

how the fuck--

he can feel your stare.

"u-um...it's..." he attempts to cover himself up with his hands, "this is normal." you throw his shirt to the side and take him by the wrists. you move his hands away and his cock twitches from your attention.

"is it?" when you look up at his face he's blushing, thoroughly embarrassed by his needy body.

"only...when i think of you." he says quietly, "y-you can just ignore it though." he stares at the way your smaller hands wrap around his wrists.

cute.

just to see what he'd do, you put his hands on your body, leading them up from your hips to your chest. he immediately gropes your tits in his large hands, letting out a pathetic noise.

"didn't know you were so insatiable..." you push him away and get off of his lap. he whines from the loss of contact but as soon as he sees you start to strip for him, he's silent, watching on in awe.

you pull off your shirt but leave your bra on -- just another way to tease and deprive him of what he wants. next, you shimmy off your pants before throwing them in his lap.

"look at the stains you left on them," you pout, "those were new." (no they weren't) "you're gonna have to buy me a new pair."

"yeah, o-ok, i'll buy you anything you want..." san ignores the pants and continues to stare at you with a cute spaced-out expression, refusing to miss even a second of you nearly naked in front of him.

he looks so good sitting there, waiting so patiently for you. his broad shoulders -- that stretch every shirt he owns -- lift every so often with the deep breaths he's taking.

his bare body is tan and fucking chiseled, you swear you could get off just grinding on his stupidly perfect abs. and the way he's keeping his hands to himself, despite how eager his cock stands for you.

when you start to approach him again, he shoves the stained clothing away to make room for you. you caress his face as you settle on top of him again.

"don't worry, baby, i'll help you."

"fuck, please."

back on top of him, you roll your hips so your covered cunt just barely grazes his hard cock. he lets out a helpless groan from the bare touch.

"oops, i forgot to take these off..." you snap the waistband of your panties against your hips, "is it okay if we just shove them to the side?" you ask, guiding his hand to feel the lace that decorates the edges.

he tugs at the fabric with thinly veiled frustration. you're surprised he hasn't lost it already. you loop your arms around his neck, letting him touch as much of you as he wants.

his hand travels under your thighs to press right over your clothed center.

"just don't mess these up too, okay?"

"i'll try my best" he presses the pads of his fingers against your cunt, feeling your wet slick soak through the thin fabric of your underwear. "f-fuck, you're already dripping."

"i'm all ready for you, sannie..." you press your hips against his hand, "you could probably just slip it right in" you whisper.

that's all the convincing it takes for him to push his hand under the fabric and run his finger against the soft lips of your cunt.

"feels good, baby~" you shove your face against the crook of his neck, mouthing and nipping against his skin. he hums gratefully at the praise -- it almost sounds like he's purring.

your slick coats his fingers as he rubs them against your sopping hole, gently pressing into you until you stretch around him. you bite your lip as he thrusts into you shallowly, barely able to finger-fuck you correctly because of how far his arm is stretched around your body.

you swear you're making a mess of his hand, dripping everywhere because of how much you want him inside of you. you pull your face away from his neck, eyes locking with his, "sannie, just fuck me."

you lift your hips up enough to press his weeping cock against you.

"b-but what about--"

you pull him in for a kiss and he immediately leans into it, melting against you once again. if you weren't so horny, you'd gush over how easy he is for you.

"don't worry, baby, i can take it."

san listens, pulling your panties to the side so he can position himself against you. he runs his cock against the seam of your cunt a few times to lubricate himself enough before slowly pushing against you. you press down at the same time, legs shaking slightly as your body stretches to accommodate his size.

"o-oh, fuck!" he chokes out, overwhelmed by the feeling of your soaking cunt sucking him in. you both moan when you sit all the way down, letting him fill you to the brim.

"mm...you fill me up so good, baby." you sigh, starting to roll your hips against him. he's so big that he presses against all the special spots inside of you with every move you make.

his hips involuntarily jerk upwards every time you lift your hips away from him, desperately needing to feel you all around him. he'd probably like cockwarming, you think -- or you would think if he wasn't fucking the thoughts from your mind.

"m-mommy, it's -- too much--" his hands wrap around your waist, squeezing faint bruises into your skin as he grapples with the feeling of your tightness fluttering around him.

your head tilts back as you speed up against him, "be good, sannie..." your breaths come out short and labored, "let mommy use your cock -- mm...fuck, yes." your mind is hazy as he hits all the right places inside of you.

he whines, pressing his face against your chest as you move against him, "i don't think i'm going to last." he twitches inside of you, already worked up to the edge.

"then go ahead," you breathe, "cum in me."

you feel the way his hips flex at the thought of filling you up, of making a mess out of you.

"i-i shouldn't..." he says -- but he's fucking up against you harder.

"why not, sannie?" you taunt, "don't want to get me pregnant?"

he lifts his head from your chest to look at you, "p-pregnant?"

"mhm," you smile down at him, "give me your babies so i can't go anywhere."

you're suddenly pressed against his hips, hard, his cock stretching you to your limit. you can feel him everywhere. you moan loudly, cunt fluttering uncontrollably from the intense pleasure he's pressing into you.

"you'd be mine?" he questions with an eager tone, almost innocently so. you can feel the way he throbs inside of you, just a touch away from tipping over the edge.

he refuses to move until you answer him.

so you try to. at least with the 1% of brain power he leaves you with.

"a-and you'd be mine." you can barely focus on the words you want to say.

san starts to shallowly thrust into you, "i'm already yours..."

"then i'm yours too."

his hands cradle your face as you continue to move against each other more desperately. he guides your face to his, pressing his lips against yours messily, teeth dragging and tongues mingling.

it's like he's only doing it to taste you. to feel you because he can't believe you're real. to claim your whole body because he can't take being away from you, even by a few centimeters.

you reach your highs together, moving perfectly in sync until you're both shaking in pleasure. you feel his hot cum fill you up, spurt after spurt -- so much in fact, you can feel it start to drip out of you, down his cock, and onto his lap.

"fuck, i might actually get pregnant from this." you say to yourself.

you feel him twitch inside of you again.

well, shit.

[nochepsicodelica]

. ๋࣭݁ ｡˚ The Drunken Collection

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating and sluggishly reach to grab it from where it rests on Toji's nightstand. You squint at the blinding brightness of your screen and answer the phone.

-Hello?- You say, your voice quiet from being abruptly woken up. You get a deep laugh on the other end as an immediate response.

-Who's this?- Toji gasps after checking his phone and seeing your contact name and picture on the screen. -It's my babyyyy. My baby baby.-

-Toji...- you start, unable to get through the sentence without letting out a tired laugh. He sounds drunk. -You okay?-

-No, I don't know where you are. I checked every room in this stupid house. It's like a fuckin' maze and I can't find you. Are you actually hiding from me, doll?-

You hear him open another door, followed by an almost inaudible "hello" away from his phone, and then a few seconds of silence, before he slams the door shut again. You figure you should let him know where you are before he breaks one of the doors from the force he's using to shut them.

-Baby?- you call, hoping he's listening.

-Not in that one either. Damn it, ma. You're scaring the hell out of me. Just... just tell me where you are. Gonna fuckin' throw up... Where are you?-

-Toji, go have some water and relax. I'm not there. I'm home, in bed.-

-Really? Why the hell am I even here, then?-

-You're out with friends, baby. Don't worry too much about me. I was sleeping just a couple minutes ago.-

-Sleeping? Without me?- He scoffs, a sudden mild sting in his chest taking main priority over his nausea. -You don't miss me, do you?-

-I do, baby. I miss you lots, but...-

-Then, i'm coming home. Easy. Byeee, love you.-

Before you can get another word in, you hear the dial tone. You sigh and click your phone off, before rolling off of Toji's side of the bed and transporting to the living room to sleep a little longer on the couch, since you have a delivery coming soon.

Forty minutes later, you wake up to the sound of knocking. You spring off the couch and make your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you see Toji and Shiu, a notable contrast in their demeanors. Shiu looks composed, as usual, and Toji... not so much. You open the door, greeting both of them with a smile.

"Hey, Shiu. Thanks for bringing him home," you say, opening the door a little more for them.

"Ah, it's not a problem. He threatened to punch a hole in the wall if I didn't drive him home, immediately. Kept whining and crying about how you went to sleep without him." The brunette chuckles.

"Hiii, pretty baby," Toji coos at you, cheesing so hard that his cheeks go red. The smile drops when he turns to the man behind him. "Shiu, go 'way. Gonna treat my girl real fuckin' good." Toji turns to look at you again with a devilish smirk on his face, before waddling over and shrinking you in his embrace.

"Toji." You manage to peek at the spiky-haired man behind your giant, offering him a polite smile through the squishing you endure from Toji.

"Nah, he's right. The wife's waiting for me, so I do gotta scram."

"Thank you, Shiu. I really, really appreciate you bringing him back. Say hi to your lady for me--" You cut yourself off with a sound that resembles the squeak of a dog toy when Toji squeezes you tighter in his arms.

Shiu laughs, nodding in response to your extended greetings. "Will do. Goodnight."

The door shuts and it's just you and Toji. Certain parts of his shirt reek of alcohol, like he spilled some of it on himself and it dried up.

"Baby, that was rude," you say, lifting your head off of him.

"Mm," Toji grunts, dismissively, his arms keeping your body firm against his. "Not my fault he wouldn't leave. Rushed him for a reason, too. Wanted to see my baby, already." He smirks at your perplexed expression, before leaning in and stealing a kiss from you. Yep, you can still taste what he drank.

He groans, like he just took a big sip of cold water on a scorching hot summer day. "Been wanting to do that for hours. More, more," he says, leaning in again. You give him a couple more kisses before pulling away. "Gimme a kiss, yeah, baby?" he requests instantly after. You try not to laugh at how he sounds like the birds in those funny videos, where they talk and make the obnoxious kissy noises.

"Last one, Toji. We have to--" he cuts you off by putting his lips on yours. Not exactly a kiss, but your lips are right up against each other, and you can hear him humming out giddy little laughs. When he pulls away, he makes a popping sound with his mouth—his rendition of the obnoxious kissing noise—and smiles like an idiot. This manages to break your composed bearing, easily luring out the laughter you tried so hard to stifle. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing," he says, with a dumb grin. "One more, one more."

You want to see if he does it again, so you regress what you said about that last one being the last one, and let him kiss you. Lo and behold, he makes the popping sound, again, right after separating from you, following it with a chuckle.

"Again?" He asks, not waiting for you to answer before he steals another kiss and does the pop! again.

"That's how you kiss?" You ask him, unable to contain the smile on your face.

"Mhm. You like it, huh? You want more, but you just don't wanna admit it." He gives you a teasing grin. "Don't even-- don't even worry, doll. I see you. You're all I see," he says, guiding your head back to rest on him. He smiles with his eyes shut, something that could easily lead to him tipping both of you over if he falls asleep. "Missed you lots, bug. Bug... mmm..." He sighs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Got myself a little lovebug," he murmurs, a small laugh following.

"Yeah, I missed you, too. Don't you want to go to bed?" You ask, not moving in his sturdy hold.

"Are you going, too? I'm not gonna go if you're not going, so don't even try to send me off alone."

"Toji." You giggle, shifting to look at him, again. "Why wouldn't I go with you? We always sleep together."

"I don't know, maybe sleeping without me, earlier, made you realize you like sleeping without me, better."

"You're still on that?" You ask, only getting an affirmative hum in response from him. "I slept on your side of the bed, if that makes you feel better," you say, attempting to reason with him. Again, he simply hums. "I even hugged your pillow, and used your nightstand. The whole time, I was hoping you were having a good time with your friends, and then, I fell asleep. I fell asleep thinking of you, baby."

A smile forms on Toji's lips, his scar lifting, like the rest of his features upon taking in this new piece of information.

"Yeah? You thought about me? You missed me?" There's a gleam in his tired, fern-colored eyes, as he looks at you, awaiting your response.

"Of course, I did. We weren't in bed together, so of course I was going to miss you and wonder about you."

He laughs, the sound coming off as something of relief and release of what gnawed at him for way too long. "Okay," he chuckles. "Yeah-- yeah, I forgive you, mama," he says, pulling you into a bear hug that is so tight, that it lures strained groans and squeaks from you, due to the pressure on your body. "Love you," he murmurs, pressing multiple quick kisses to the top of your head. "Fucking love you, gorgeous. Love you."

"Love--" you snicker. "Love you, too, Toji. Let's go to bed, alright?"

"Mhm. Take me with you," he says, releasing you from his hold and giving you his hand, entrusting you to guide him to the room, while he trails behind you, slowly, like a shadow.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with the homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say it doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly every day during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

As book!Tom who grew up in an orphanage: he's secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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Masterlist

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[simjaexy]

★ 𝙀𝙣𝙝𝙖 𝙃𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙭 (𝙁) 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ★

౨ৎ why fight when we can just fuck?

warnings ⇀ MINORS DNI!!!, lowercase intended, crying, arguments, eating out (jay), shower sex (jake), cursing, dom! heeseung x sub! reader, hair gripping (sunghoon), overstimulation (jay), mean dom! sunghoon x sub brat! reader, blowjobs (sunghoon), rough sex, jealousy (sunghoon)

genre ⇀ pure smut, little angst

w.c ⇀ 980

a/n ⇀ sorry for not posting for awhile but i made a drabble of the hyung line! i’m planning on making a heeseung fic soon so stay tuned for that :) i hope you enjoy so please reblog, comment, like, etc! not proofread!

masterlist here

౨ৎ you and heeseung had a disagreement over something trivial, but it escalated quickly. the tension was palpable, and you both ended up saying things you didn't mean.

later that evening, heeseung knocked on your door, his face filled with regret. "i'm really sorry," he said softly. "i didn't mean to hurt you.” he noticed your silence and held your hand, “i think i know what to do to make you forgive me.” was all he said before shutting the door behind him.

“h-hee!” you cried out when you felt his girth dick hitting the right spots that made your eyes roll back. heeseung groaned feeling you clench around him. he pinned both of your arms down on the bed and nibbled at your neck causing you to jerk at the sensation.

“fuck you feel so tight. wanna fuck this pussy all day. would you let me baby?” he whispered in your ear. you nodded your head feeling your climax finally coming.

“fuck hee i’m cumming!” you moaned. he slapped your ass watching it jiggle. a smirk never falling off his face.

“fuck go head and cream on this dick.” he spoke. that was all you needed before your orgasm came over you. heeseung slowed down and soon he came too.

“i’m sorry baby for having that stupid argument. i love you.” heeseung mumbled, rubbing his face in your neck. you giggled and kissed his cheek.

“it’s okay hee, i forgive you.”

౨ৎ you and jay had a heated argument about his busy schedule. you felt neglected, and he felt misunderstood. after cooling off, jay came to you with a sincere expression.

"i'm sorry for not considering your feelings," he admitted. "i promise to make more time for us."

he cupped your face when he saw a few tears streaming down, “it really hurts jay.”

he kissed your cheek, “how about i make it up to you now?”

“oh god seongie!” you cried out, feeling his tongue lick your bud. he groaned when you gripped his hair. he continued nibbling and licking your bud, the sweet taste of you making him feel crazy.

your back arched and jerked when he suddenly licked your folds, “seongie too much!” you whined.

“mhm.” was all jay said. he dipped his tongue in your hole and swirled it around causing your eyes to roll back. you felt your orgasm coming and locked your legs around jays head.

“s-seongie im cumming! please!” you whimpered. seongie looked up at you, his intense hazed lustful gaze staring at you caused you to finally cum. you groaned when he still continued to lick up all your sweet taste.

“n-no. no more.” you rasped out. jay finally let go of your pussy and licked his lips. you saw him starting to unbuckled his belt.

“i don’t think i’m gonna stop anytime soon darling. i’m gonna make it up to you.”

౨ৎ you and jake had a disagreement about a decision he made without consulting you. feeling hurt, you distanced yourself. jake noticed and came to you, looking genuinely sorry.

"i didn't mean to make you feel left out," he said. "i should have talked to you first. i'm really sorry.”

you nodded your head, still feeling a bit upset. jake noticed your same expression and rubbed your hip, “how about we wash these negativities away?”

“fuck jake!” you squealed out. the sound of loud skin slapping and moans filling up the steamy bathroom.

jake threw his head back feeling your clench around him. the steamy water making him feel even more hot.

“yeah? you like that? wanna fuck you so good.” he moaned. you frantically nodded your head. you would’ve been on the ground if it weren’t for jake holding your hips in place.

“pussy feels so good. does my princess feel good?” he slurred out. you felt your orgasm coming after hearing his dirty words. the only thing you could do was nod your head.

“g-gonna cum. cumming!” you gasped. that’s when you felt your legs shaking with you pussy throbbing around jake’s dick. jake came right then and there.

“m’sorry princess. i love you.” he said.

you hummed, still tired, “i love you too jake.”

౨ৎ you and sunghoon had an argument about a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control. both of you were stubborn, but sunghoon eventually approached you with a apology.

"i'm sorry for being so stubborn," he confessed. "i value our relationship too much to let this come between us."

you rolled your eyes, “should have though bout that before flirting with that waitress.” you mumbled.

sunghoon sighed, knowing you weren’t gonna let it down. instead of saying anything, sunghoon grabbed your wrist and took you guys to your bedroom.

“fuck just like that kitten.” he groaned. you moaned around his dick, feeling it throb in your mouth. the noise of your slobber and his precum around his dick turning you on more. your pussy wet with slick. sunghoon gripped your hair when he felt you hollow your cheeks.

“ah~ fuck! that’s right kitten, such a good kitten.” he purred out. you felt tears gathering around your eyes when he started pushing his dick deeper into your mouth.

sunghoon felt your hand tapping against his thigh, but that didn’t stop him. if you were gonna have attitude after his apology, he’ll find a way to make you shut up.

he felt his orgasm coming and lolled his head back, “shit gonna cum.” he said. that’s when he let go of your hair making you lick around his tip, wanting to taste his cum in your mouth.

feeling your wet tongue licking his tip made him jerk forward and that’s when he finally came in your mouth. you swallowed every bit of it and hummed in content.

sunghoon rubbed your jaw, “don’t complain about being jealous when your the only one that can make me cum like this.”

[majinbangus]

I’m now obsessed with dog!Simon, thank you for the nourishment for my enclosure. I shall now go feral /pos

i'm so glad you like the concept <3 》 18+

"I'm sorry... what?"

You stare blankly at Soap. He stares back, a tad reprimanding. Ghost hovers behind him, naked and expectant, raptorial smirk on his face. They've both blocked you in the bathroom.

Soap crosses his arms, looking a little disappointed in you. "When I got you your dog, I thought it was implied that you take care of him. That includes bathing him."

"But he's not really—"

"He can take care of himself most days, but he's still yours to take care of, sweetheart. He'll need at least one bath once a week. If you can't do that, we can't keep him."

There's a part of you that thinks that may be for the best—if that happens, maybe you can talk Soap into getting you an actual dog—but when you look over Soap's shoulder to eyeball Ghost, you can't help but feel a slight pang at the thought of losing him. Or perhaps that's just the thought of disappointing Soap and Ghost, and going back on the compromise. Whatever the reason, you can't bring yourself to get rid of him. He's here now, might as well keep him, right?

"I'll... take care of him." You finally say after a minute of contemplating, and Soap's face breaks out with a proud grin.

"I'll leave you to it then."

Without much else to say, Soap walks out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with Ghost. You shuffle nervously between your feet. "Uh, you can stay there. I'm gonna warm up the water for you."

He doesn't say anything as he watches you. Doesn't say anything at all, even when the water is ready and the tub is full, or when you stiffly guide him into the bath, stripping down to your underthings so you don't get your clothes wet. You sit on the tub's edge, cupping water into your hand and start rubbing along his shoulders and neck, and that's when he makes a small noise, groaning at the gentle touch of your fingers.

"That feels good, pet. Think I like it when you clean me."

"Anytime." The word is out before you can stop it. You start massaging your fingers into his scalp, getting his hair wet. "I mean, you know, I'll take care of you whenever you need it."

"And if I need this every night?"

Your fingers play with his hair and you stubbornly refuse to meet his gaze. You know he's looking at you. Daring you to look him in the eyes. To challenge him. You don't, instead—

"Then I'll give you this every night."

You roll over and show him your belly.

In your peripheral, you see him smirk. Faster than you can react, his hand darts out to grab your wrist. You don't try to fight it as he pulls your hand under the water, brushing your knuckles against the apex of his legs. There's a twitch as he wraps your fingers it. You slowly start to pump your hand and he gifts you with a deep groan.

"Don't I have an attentive master?" Ghost praises and you gulp, but fasten your pace.

Soap said it was your responsibility to take care of him, so that's exactly what you'll do.

-

When you've finally cleaned and dried both yourself and Ghost, you both wander back to the living room where Soap awaits, watching a movie. You go and join him, pecking his cheek when you sit down.

"Come, Ghost." You pat the spot next to you, and he obeys, pulling you into his lap once he gets on the couch. His hands wander shamelessly, catching Soap's attention.

"Good bath?" Soap asks knowingly, chuckling at your dazed expression.

"Uh-huh."

He chuckles at your simple reply and shifts to pat your head. "That's a good girl."

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[worldsover]

Detonation Mechanism ft. Isa

20k words

It's cute, fluffy, love-at-first-sight romance with Isa, but it turns out the kitten is naughtier than she appears.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

She'll be just like the last one. And the one before that. The one before that. The pattern, you've done everything in your power to break it and have yet to do so successfully. You'd rather not meet her at all if it's going to be that way, but the pressure from your mutual friends to get together for a blind date is akin to trying to turn around a tank with grocery bags in hand. You don't know if it's the same for Isa, but she didn't exactly put up a fight to meet, either, and that worries you a little bit. All you knew about Isa was a list of allergies so extensive that it resembled a complex food import document. You were always complaining about eating out at the same five places, so you were at least looking forward to eating at the trendy vegan restaurant she suggested.

Waiting amidst the bustling pedestrian plaza nearby, you double-check for the time and address on your phone and scan the area again. In truth, you want to get this over with. The air is thick with noise—the roar of traffic, people chatting, a street busker playing her guitar under the shade of an awning across from where you wait. The sun glares down mercilessly and your eyes water without warning, the summer heat already leaving you parched. It feels as though the world itself doesn’t want you to find love.

A notification on your screen.

> "you here already?"

> "Yep!"

> "i'm by the sculpture! of the guy! you'll know it's me!"

You do. Or, you hope. Hope that Isa is the red-haired woman waving wildly and looking around.

As you wave back with more restraint, you smile, because how else can you respond to the warmth of the sun—oh, how quickly you change your tune. You smile because that's how you combat freezing up at her prettiness. On first impression, Isa is already the most stunning person you've ever seen. Her eyes become half-moons when she smiles brightly, and you happily melt under her gaze. But then, there are those jeans holding in her thighs, her tight shirt not holding back her smooth midriff. All in all, very cute. You liken her expressions to that of a feisty cat. You haven't stopped smiling; how can you?

The world wants you to find love.

You can't believe it when she hugs you like she's known you for years. Her perfume wafts into your nose, and she smells sweet, too sweet, like you'd probably go into anaphylactic shock if you kissed her—who's the allergic one now?

"Hi!" Isa gives you one last squeeze before releasing you. "Nice to meet you."

You sputter—great start. "Wow, hi. Nice to meet you too."

"I'm Isa." Her grin is like a curly bracket as she looks up at you, not even close to your height. Her lips are pouty, red like her hair, and it doesn't help that she's looking at you as though you were already boyfriend material. "It's a nickname."

You have to hold back from telling her that she's the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life. "Isa," you repeat, almost stupidly, but then get over yourself. "It suits you."

"Yeah? Thank you." Her eyes turn into half-moons again when she smiles and nods, looking as though she'll purr any second now.

"Hold on, let me guess. You look like a… Sumin."

She laughs out loud. "Oh my god."

You gasp. "Did I get it?"

"No, no, that's one of my best friend's names."

"Damn. I thought I figured you out."

"Nope. I'm Lee Chaeyoung. Nice to meet you." She offers her hand.

You shake it and tell her your name in turn. "So, ready to eat?"

Her smile widens. She takes your bicep in hand, again her innate familiarity surprising you. "This way," she says, squeezing your arm.

"I know, I know," you say.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here. I've only been once, but I love this place."

You're inclined to like the place as well—the atmosphere is bright and vibrant, and the energy is positive like everyone's in their element. The restaurant has large windows with shutters drawn up to let in a lot of sunlight and natural airflow. A large indoor tree sits by a seating area next to the windows, providing a nice feeling of nature indoors. The tables and chairs are all a light-colored wood that matches the decor. You'd never walk into this place by accident—this is clearly a hipster vegan joint meant for millennials who think they can live forever if they just eat the right plants—but with Isa by your side, you don't care.

You care. You haven't felt nerves like these for ages. You're blaming your stuttering on how difficult the menu is to read, but if you're being honest, her beauty is throwing you for a loop. You're afraid you'll misspeak or do something weird like accidentally spill some soup on her, or try to kiss her before you learn her name properly, or any number of other things that can go wrong on a first date.

Isa orders for the both of you as if she knows the menu inside and out (you have no reason to suspect she doesn't), and as soon as she starts talking, you hang onto every word. She sounds passionate about this place, which is so cute of her, so of course, you agree with what she chooses.

The dish that appears in front of you, ratatouille and spaghetti, comes as a surprise because you were more focused on Isa than paying attention to what you ordered. You're embarrassed. If you had one great property about you, it would be your ability to snall talk and bullshit; instead, you're all avoidant eyes and quiet eating. You don't want to reveal too much about yourself, how humdrum your work is, or how many hours you spend on YouTube or reading manga every day. But Isa, she's a force of nature that can't be held back by any of your defenses, and you can't remain so closed off for too long, what with her relentless teasing and prodding at all the right times. She has you smiling in minutes.

A woman of many passions, she talks at length about decorating her house, finding new artists to listen to, and recording vlogs for all the countries she's visited. You're on the topic of travel.  "No, I'm serious, there are some nice parks in Canada," you say.

"I could see that. I'm imagining somewhere remote, where the stars are visible and you can stand on top of a hill and breathe in the fresh, cool air." Isa takes in a deep breath as though to demonstrate. "Ooh, have you ever seen the aurora borealis? So pretty."

"Yeah," you say as you keep your eyes on her.

"Wait, you've been?" She's bouncing in her seat now.

You chuckle. "I did, once."

"I'm so jealous."

"It's a long drive, getting far enough from the city lights. Plus, you have to be lucky with the timing. But it's worth it."

"Can we go?" she asks, all sincere.

"Together? To Canada?" you ask.

Isa ducks her head. "Sorry, that's presumptuous, right?"

You pat her forearm. "No, it's okay. I didn't mean to make fun, that would be incredible to do. You really wanna go?"

"Eventually. If the stars align." Isa makes a dramatic face, as if winking but unable to get her other eye to cooperate and stay open.

You burst out laughing, attracting stares.

"What? What?" she asks.

But you keep laughing, and she can't help but join in. In that moment, there's something true and incomparable and fantastical about Isa, and whatever connection the two of you have. Her foot touches yours and neither of you move away. She meets your eyes, drawing you in closer. Every laugh. Every smile. Every quirk of her brow. Her beauty ensnares your attention like a well-laid trap. Beckons you to steal glances, toward her plump lips, her clear skin, the outline of her neck as she drinks from her glass, the graceful slope of her nose, the red hair that frames her face. Her legs, encased in tight denim that stretches beyond infinity, make you linger longer.

"I don't bite," she purrs, leans forward, offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. "Unless you want me to."

Your stomach drops. Whatever picture you had of Isa as a wholesome, innocent girl crumbles to pieces, in a good, groin-stirring, mouth-shutting way.

"Hey." Her hand touches your forearm. "I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong. I'm having too much fun."

You clear your throat. "No, you're fine. More than fine." You squeeze her hand, admiring her delicate fingers and white-manicured nails. "I'm having fun with you too."

"Good! I guess we should, like, actually get to know each other though."

"Yeah," you reply, chuckling nervously. You first share the more basic biographical information: you're a few years older than her, but you agree to drop the formalities as though you were close friends already.

"Oh, by the way," you say, "I'm sorry."

She freezes up. "Sorry for what?"

"About all your allergies, I mean, chicken? Come on. I didn't even know that was a thing."

Isa laughs, and the more you hear her laugh, the more you want to tell jokes over and over just to hear it again. "Well, it's okay. I can just eat everything else. Like this ratatouille. It's really good."

You laugh with her. "Yeah, it is."

From there, it's easy to open up, talk more about yourself when she asks questions, to engage in small talk you wouldn't normally bother with. Just as with her hobbies, she wears many hats in her job, always busy doing something whether it's brand deals or graphic design or one of her million side projects. Somehow, she manages to make your life sound interesting with her unabashed sincerity. The more you ask about her interests, the more your own apathy toward dating seems silly and unfounded, a self-defeating cycle you've made worse by following it.

You're halfway through your meals when suddenly, Isa breaks the rhythm of the conversation with the question: "Why are you single?"

"What?" You snort. "Where did that come from?"

"Well," she begins, setting down her fork, "you're handsome, for one."

You hold back a gasp, not wanting to seem overly affected. "Thank you," you say in earnest, smiling bashfully.

"You're funny, and you're really good at making me feel comfortable with you." Once again, she squeezes your bicep, and more quietly, like admitting a secret, she adds, "And your body is nice. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

You're blushing, if not for her compliments, then for how adorable she looks being so transparent about how she feels. You decide to return the favor. "You're cute. Very cute. And I love your sense of style, especially the red hair, and how much fun we're having talking."

"Really?" Her eyes light up as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "I've never met anyone quite like you before."

"And I want to know more about you," she whispers. Isa leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, fingers laced together. "So, explain yourself, why you're single."

"Geez," you say, putting your hands up in defense, laughing again. "Okay, okay. Where to begin? I guess I haven't exactly had the best luck with dating."

She frowns. "Aww, I'm sorry. That's no good."

"I mean, it's tough, right? You have to meet new people and try to get to know them and they might turn out to be terrible dates who dump you in public or ghost you." You laugh, but it's mostly forced. "Or even worse, there are the friends that you dated and then had to stop being friends with because the relationship just didn't work out, and you have no one to hang out with on weekends. And now I sound like a loser."

"Hey, it's not like that." She squeezes your arm. "So you don't bother with dating as much, right? Well, that's understandable, especially after those bad experiences."

You appreciate her empathy; it helps to put your worries into words that feel more grounded, as though your concerns were normal rather than yours alone. "Right, but it doesn't help when people ask why I don't have a girlfriend, as if having a significant other is the only important relationship in your life. As though that's all that matters." You realize you're ranting too much and try to rein yourself in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to lay it on you so thick."

But Isa is already leaning into your arm. "Don't be sorry. It makes me feel better about myself to hear that other people have their own problems they have to deal with." She pauses. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened before this?"

You straighten up. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

So you do. Tell her about the failures, the heartbreak, how your ex was still in your friend group after the breakup. You shouldn't. This is the exact sort of first-date taboo that should be avoided at all costs. But she listens. She truly listens, and she understands. It feels good, to be heard by someone so receptive. There's a relief in getting it all off your chest, an intimacy in sharing secrets—and it helps that she's more attractive than any other woman you've met.

You've never taken so long eating such a simple dish.

After finishing up your meal, the mood to something light-hearted, and Isa asks if you want some… She's leaning forward, once more showing off her breasts in her crop top, and you stare in awe. She watches you take in every detail, and slowly, seductively, slightly, parts her mouth open. You blink rapidly and force yourself to meet her gaze.

"I said, you want some vegan ice cream?"

"Sure. We can, um, split it." You swallow.

Like nothing happened, she orders the creamy delight and as you tuck into the shared bowl, she savors each spoonful with slow, tantalizing movements of her tongue. Desire surges in your lower regions, and you attempt to adjust yourself subtly.

Isa flashes a provocative smile. "It's okay to look, you know?"

That ice cream must taste really good for her, how deliciously she's sucking on it. Your mind wanders. How might her lips taste, feel, upon yours, upon your neck, upon your chest, down? Shuddering at the thought, you clumsily shove a large scoop of the frozen treat into your mouth, only to regret it as your brain tries to make sense of the contrasting temperature.

When your face contorts from the chill, Isa laughs, and then she seems to catch herself; her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I swear, I don't act this way with people I just met. But, it, you know, feels natural with you for some reason. Maybe you bring out the animal in me. Or, err…"

You clear your throat. "No, it's okay. It's hot. Actually, no, it's not okay, don't bring animals into this restaurant."

Isa laughs—another success, another tug at your heart. Her legs graze yours under the table until every nerve ending is on fire; you and Isa end up having a side competition under the table, both of you taking turns touching the other, to see who can make the other react first.

Isa wins.

Her cheeks flush red and you can't stop glancing at her parted lips.

Music. You were talking about… "You said you like R&B, right?" you ask. "You have a really nice voice for it. Ever consider singing?"

"Actually, I've thought about it," she says, straightening up in her chair. "I even took some lessons in high school. They said I could've been big, you know?"

Picturing Isa on stage is easy; she'd have a million followers. "That's really cool," you say. "Maybe you could sing me a song sometime."

"Maybe. But I might need to be in a more comfortable setting. Like, maybe my home or yours." She winks and your stomach drops again. She is toying with you and it's working, maybe too well. The anticipation of her flirty touches has you wanting more and more, the sexual tension building each time her foot or her hand brushes against yours. It feels like she's already undressing you with her eyes.

"That sounds good," you say.

"Yeah," Isa says, "we could do karaoke, drink a bit if you're down for that."

"You have any more talents or is a million hobbies not enough for you?"

"I also learned dance too. I still do that actually, I'm in a club."

You scoff. "Seriously, what are you doing here instead of performing? You could literally be the top idol, right now."

Isa shrugs. "That's just life. Sometimes, we don't get what we want. But then better things come along. And you get to eat ice cream with them." She laughs again, so carefree and happy—and so sexy that it's hard not to feel confident around her. "You're a pretty good thing, if I do say so myself."

You contemplate Isa's sudden musing. "I'd be your biggest fan, trust me."

"But, you know," Isa says, "I could teach you a thing or two about dancing too."

You imagine Isa dancing with you, her body pressing against yours. It's a delightful thought. Unfortunately: "I'm pretty much a fish out of water when it comes to anything involving coordination. Mmm, maybe one day. I can try and surprise you."

"It's okay. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Or, you can watch me." Her lips curl up. "I like showing off sometimes." Eating her last bite of ice cream, a large dollop falls onto the bare skin between her neck and clavicle, its white and creamy and sticky nature reminding you of how it'd be to leave a warmer mark there. A streak of desire runs through your body, and you almost feel bad at the sudden urge to lick it off her skin. Instead, Isa whimpers at the cold sensation while her fingers scoop up the excess and pop into her mouth, sucking each digit clean.

"I see that," you reply, voice strained, and look away.

How Isa is able to move on from that so easily, you don't know. Your shirt feels too tight on your shoulders, and you shift in your seat to adjust your trousers.

You call the server over for the check—just in time to save you from your horniness—and Isa thanks you with a peck on your cheek that has you almost melting into her arms. The moment your card is swiped and the receipt signed, she takes your hand in hers as though she never wants to let go.

There's a crowd of people outside, bunches of people coming in and out of restaurants and stores, a group of college students dancing to some choreography, but you feel like you and Isa are in your own bubble.

"Thank you for tonight," she whispers in your ear, as the streets are getting loud with all the people. She's warm, and her breath is warm, and her smile is warm, and every moment makes you feel warm. Isa looks at you like she's feeling the same way, clinging to your arm and to your every word and to the promises of more dates.

You continue to sneak glances, ensure you're not dreaming. The setting sun peeks out behind the skyscrapers, shining light onto her bright skin—she may be an angel in her radiance; you’ve never told anyone that on the first date because a pickup line like that would be too cheesy, but you have to tell her anyway. (“Seriously? Fell from what? Ugh!” She rolls her eyes but with a huge smile on her face. Nothing could be more precious.) You didn't realize otherworldly beauty even existed outside of the internet or the cinema, but somehow, it just ended up on your lap for the price of a vegan entrée and some wine.

As you walk through a nearby urban park, Isa squeezes your hand. "I'm kinda surprised."

"About?" You tilt your head.

"How well this is going. I didn't think blind dates were supposed to go this well."

"So this is your first one?" You nudge her with a playful shoulder. "Lucky. So, you wanna do anything else?"

"Do you?"

You scan the shops, assessing your options. There's a stationery store, a convenience mart, and a plethora of designer boutiques far exceeding your pay grade. "Whatever you feel like." Well, hopefully not the latter.

"Let's go there." Isa points to the stationary shop and drags you there.

You browse the aisles, letting go of her hand to flip through the pages of a journal. Isa decides to get herself some notebooks—one covered in red roses and a kitten in shades of pink. You scan the shelves and notice a book on calligraphy and pull it out. After shuffling some items around, you find some pencil grips and grab them for yourself, then find Isa in the pen and pencils section.

"Cute." Though looking at the things she's holding, you're not talking about them.

"Oh, thanks." She shifts the books in her arms and pokes you on the side. "There are some markers and pencils with kittens on them, maybe you can give it as a gift to a friend."

"You can just say you want them. It seems you've got a whole theme going on there. You don't even have a cat," you tease.

She sighs loudly. "No, don't remind me. I wish I could have one so bad."

"I'm more of a dog person," you say, "but kittens aren't half bad."

"Hmph. Kittens are so cute though." Her pout is even more adorable. "Kittens are small, furry, warm."

"And lazy. Mean. Cranky," you counter.

Isa swats your arm. "Noo, they aren't."

With the kitten pencils and markers now secured in your shopping bag, you exit the stationary store and head to the convenience store nearby. After a few minutes of browsing and chatting, you leave with two bags of snacks and drinks. You offer to help carry her bags home, and the two of you are on a bus.

Isa leans her head on your shoulder as she places a hand on your thigh. "Thanks again for tonight."

"Any time," you say, grabbing her hand. "So, uh, are you free next week?"

She shakes her head, looking apologetic. "No, I'm leaving on a camping trip with some friends."

"Ah, that sounds like fun." Your heart sinks. "Well, how about when you get back?"

"Of course! I'll text you as soon as I'm home."

"Okay, great." You don't know what else to say because all you're thinking about is how much you'll miss her. And the ride seems too short for your liking. The two of you are still holding hands, and it feels as if your hands are made for each other: her fingers are warm and delicate as they intertwine with yours, her touch gentle and tender, and everything you never knew you wanted.

"My stop's coming up," Isa says reluctantly.

"I'll walk you home." You pat the bags in your other hand. "These snacks will be useful later."

"Yeah? Okay."

Isa leads the way to her apartment. Her neighborhood is cozy; the streets are lined with small houses, bakeries and cafes, and a playground.

When you reach the entrance of the building, you hand Isa her bags of stuff, not wanting to let go of her hand.

"Thanks for going out with me today," you say. "I hope we can do this again soon."

Isa doesn't let go of your hand either. "I hope so too."

The moment stretches on, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave, but your heart won't stop beating out of your chest. You finally let go of her hand to place them in your pockets, looking elsewhere, anywhere but her eyes. Her red lips call to you.

Isa looks around—there's no one outside at this hour, the sky darkening and stars beginning to dot the sky. She bites her lip—god, how you'd love to bite down on her plump lips, kiss those curves on her face and body until she was left squirming and moaning on her bed. She takes your face in her hands, stands on tiptoes, leans in close to you, and kisses your cheek. Your heart stops. You turn to look at her, stunned by how forward she was, by how good that felt, and oh—now, her lips are on yours. Your head is spinning: her mouth tastes like honey and mint and every flower in the world; she's pulling you down and closer to her while her other hand wraps around your waist; she's whimpering as you pull her body flush against yours by her hip and ass, kissing her back fiercely, deeper and deeper—

You're left wanting more as she pulls away, swaying from side to side. Her hand reaches to stroke your face. You're dazed and speechless.

Isa giggles. "We should do this again. I really enjoyed myself. I hope you did too."

"Yeah," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "I definitely did."

"Okay. Bye bye!" She waves with a warm smile and then runs into the building before you can say anything else.

You've only just met her, but somehow the world is darker again, like you're reminded that it's nighttime.

A text.

> "you could've kissed me sooner :p"

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weekend zooms by, and the week lurches forward like a train coming out of the station, slow and dragging until it gradually builds up momentum as the minutes fly by. You wonder where Isa is right now as you sit at your desk at work. You wonder if she's thinking about you the way you're thinking about her. Your coworkers pry about what's making you smile, and you can only be honest—that there's a woman who's made you feel alive for the first time in a long time. Meanwhile, you're forced to endure smug, self-congratulatory remarks from Sullyoon about getting you and Isa together. But you don't mind the jests and good-natured ribbing if it means you get to daydream about Isa for hours on end.

Only when you get home after a long day of work that you realize how far along she's gotten under your skin because you haven't been this distracted in years. She's a very well-formed fantasy: you picture making dinner for her, so you're learning vegan recipes, and cutting out everything from soy to eggs—it's no sacrifice when it's all for her. But your imagination ends up taking other shapes too, her sex appeal oozing out of every pore and action between the cuteness. You'd take her apart with your tongue—and fingers, too—before putting her back together again with your dick. When it feels as though you've lost your focus forever, your mind has never been clearer. Every night, you're thinking of Isa before you fall asleep, dreaming of her in bed with you—holding her tight until the sun peeks through the curtains—

> "hi, hi, i'm back. you free right now?"

You answer the text immediately, despite it coming after midnight.

> "heyy, i'm free"

> "cool! i'm at home right now, wanna come over?"

> "sure, omw"

> "great! see you soon!"

Riding the subway, the hum of electricity and chatter fills your ears, and you wish this were a bullet train instead. When you knock, your hands are clammy and your stomach is twisting itself into knots.

The door swings open. There she is. Your eyes drink her in, radiant Isa clad in snug black yoga pants and a loose tank top, crimson hair falling down her shoulders like lava from a volcano. There's your fantasy, your plaguing distraction, your obsession. Whatever you were feeling hasn't gone anyway: everything that was there was real, made more concrete at the sight of her.

You don't really know her, but it feels as though you've missed her so much already.

Isa doesn't say anything. Simply steps closer, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes full of want, and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Your hands roam over her ass and cup it gently while her mouth presses into you. You both sigh into the kiss, and she tugs on your lower lip, sucking and nipping on it. The door clicks shut behind you.

"Hey," you breathe out after finally breaking the kiss. "That was—"

Isa's tongue flicks your lips. "Is it okay if we keep doing that?" Her voice is like silk on your ears. "Please?"

Because the silk forms a web made to ensnare you, you oblige, pulling her close again to recapture her mouth. She's intoxicating, her taste—like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate—her body—soft skin and sweet perfume—and most of all, her sighs—the cutest little creature in need as your tongues glide over each other. Then you move down to give her neck a peck, and she arches up against you.

"I missed you," Isa sighs out.

You groan softly at that. You're in her home, cozy, warm, and familiar, with the soft light of a candle casting gentle shadows on the walls and scenting the air with a floral aroma.

"I literally texted you the moment I got home," she adds. "Sorry if I had to make you rush here."

"Don't worry about it," you reply, placing a kiss on her collarbone. "I couldn't wait to see you."

"Really?" She beams.

"Of course."

She lets go of your shoulders and leads you to the couch. "I'm sure you wanted to plan a real date, and I want that too, but... I really wanted to kiss you again."

"Well, I can't say no to that," you say.

"We'll have plenty of time for dates later. Let's just watch something on TV," she says, eyes crinkled, and you decide that you are honestly fine with whatever Isa wants.

The two of you curl up on one side of the couch, your arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around your waist, and she turns on some show about a guy who owns a farm or something. Naturally, your distraction returns, made tangible and real as she sits by your side. You can't stop thinking about what's underneath her clothes, what she'll look like after you make her come over and over again.

Isa glances at you, then back at the TV, then back to you. "What?" she asks.

"Just looking at you," you confess as you cup her cheek. "You're so beautiful that I can’t stop."

"You, you're so, ugh, I can't..."

"But I mean it, sincerely." You point at the cat notebook on the table. "You're like that cute kitten, curled up in me."

She scoffs, pushing the notebook aside and swatting your shoulder. "Yah, you're so cheesy." But there's still a smile on her face, so you'll take that as a victory.

As the two of you watch the show, or at least attempt to, neither of you is truly there in spirit. Isa is playing with your fingers, eyeing you like she wants to devour you; your hands stroke her shoulder as if to silently communicate your desire for something more than talking or watching TV; your faces are angled toward each other rather than the television. Your touch ventures lower, toward her sides, then her thighs, and you massage them through the fabric of her pants.

"Your hands. So warm," she says as she takes one of your hands into her own and kisses the center of your palm. "So firm, and strong. It's nice." 

There are photos on the walls of Isa with whom you assume are family and friends, as well as some art from artists you don't recognize. As you suspected, there are plenty of cat-related objects scattered about, an entire corner of the bookshelf filled with picture books, figurines of cats and dogs and other cute animals on every shelf. In addition to that notebook you bought her, you also spot the pencils on a table next to her laptop. There's a mug next to that one, with a cat printed on its side.

Isa nuzzles into your neck, staring at you. There's something about her demeanor that makes her seem more shy and unsure of herself than before. Her fingers play with the hem of your shirt, trying to sneak their way underneath while she strokes your cheek with the other hand.

It's not just her home. She is a cat.

Isa is a cat in how she purrs when you scratch behind her ears just right. In how she arches against your body with every brush of your fingertips against her neck. In how she paws at your shoulders, begging for more and more attention, leaning in for gentle, affectionate kisses to her nose. In how she rubs herself against you like she knows what it does to you. In how she mewls when your palms come down to caress her lower back, then squeezes her ass. Isa, in your arms, is the sort of pet that makes you want to spoil her all the time. You're not sure what you did in a past life to deserve a creature so magnificent and adorable and sexy and sweet and lovable.

You call her as she is. "Kitten." It comes out your mouth like a reflex, like a message to yourself more than anything.

A small gasp escapes her lips, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.

Your thumb brushes along her jawline. "It really suits you."

"Again," she pleads.

You whisper "Kitten" again, this time deeper.

Isa shivers and exhales weakly, her hand reaching for yours in a desperate grip. "One more."

"Kitten." You chuckle to yourself, in disbelief, in awe; how could a woman be… "So cute. Kitten. Kitten." Your lips follow your thumb on her jaw. "You like when I say that?"

"Oh, oh, fuck. Yeah. How... how do you know just what to say to me? How to touch me? No one's ever treated me like this before. I've been thinking about you. Especially when I was out in the woods. I was with my friends and it was fun, but..." She pauses, trying to find the right words.

You squeeze her waist. "It's okay, I'm listening."

Isa nods, biting her lip. "I just felt like I needed to see you again. Like something was missing. And when I got home, I just wanted to meet you again. I know it sounds stupid, we just met."

"No, it's not stupid," you say. "I feel the same way. I swear. More, to be honest."

"Okay, good—hngh." Isa gasps as your lips find their way to her neck, and the taste of her soft skin leaves you hungry for more. "Oh, fuh... you see? You make me feel so, so good, oh my god. I wasn't sure if it was just the mood of that date, but no, it's you, it's definitely you."

Her hand sneaks back under your shirt and caresses your bare torso. But then she stops herself, pushing you back.

"You okay?" you ask and then wait patiently for her to calm down.

"This isn't like me," she says. "Or at least, it hasn't been in a long time, or maybe ever. I don't know why I'm acting like this with you, someone I just met."

As she moves her hands restlessly, you reach for them and hold them tightly in yours. "I understand. And I don't mind at all," you say.

Isa looks down at her lap. "It's just… I feel like I can trust you completely. Even though we just met, it feels like we've known each other forever."

"I'll admit, I'm also a little confused," you confess.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"But… I'm all in. I don't care."

A silent peace of acceptance falls between the two of you.

Isa breaks the silence with a shattering statement even if so quiet as to let the world's hum speak over her. "This, this is going to lead to us having sex, right?" Quieter: "I want this. Do you?"

You do. You want it. You want it more than you want any other woman in this city, hell, maybe in the world. You want to know what it feels like to hold Isa tight while you slide into her, what her cries sound like when you fill her, what it would be like to hold her in your arms after fucking her. You want this gorgeous face right next to yours, her hair tickling your face while you're trying to sleep, waking up to a sweet smile. morning kisses. You want her on top of you, taking your cock, her perfect breasts bouncing as she rides you; to be under her with your mouth between her thighs. You want her body against yours, for you to make her dinner, to go shopping with, to sleep next to on the sofa every night.

If there were one last thing you wanted in your life, then it's Isa. You can only nod, dumbfoundedly.

She smiles, then giggles, and you can't help but join in on her giddiness. "Good. Okay. Yeah. Obviously." Isa turns to look you in the eyes. "I've been doing some thinking. And, um, I want to do this, but, I have one rule."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"When you cum, I want you to cum inside me."

Your mouth falls open.

She stammers, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm on the pill, and I don't like condoms, and I just... I've always wanted to feel a guy cum inside of me. And you're so fucking hot and sexy, and I just want it so bad."

Your heart pounds faster and faster, the same way Isa speaks faster and faster.

"I want you to fuck me. Like an animal. And I want you to breed me. I want you to fill me up with your seed while you call me kitten and good girl and..." After she trails off, she buries her face in her hands. "I can't believe I just said all that."

Cup her cheek and stroke it with your thumb. "It's okay." You nod, and you nod harder as if your acceptance is growing immediately. "Yeah, I can do that for you. You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?"

"That's an understatement," she admits. "It's crazy. I shared a tent with three friends, and while they were sleeping, I was touching myself. Rubbing my thighs, my hand down my pants. Thinking about you. You're so... I don't know." She shakes her head, unable to find the words to capture the intensity. "And I've been just going crazy trying to figure out why."

"You figure it out?" she asks.

"Yeah, kinda," she says "I guess it's nothing so complicated, and it's nothing I haven't already said... it's how you look at me, how you talk to me like there's nothing else that matters, how you make me feel safe and wanted. And yeah, all that on top of you being really handsome too. It feels nice."

You choke back your response. It feels like you should have something more meaningful to say in response to all of this, but no matter how hard you try, only banalities come to mind.

"I probably need help or something—"

You put your fingers over her mouth. "Stop. Listen, please." You lift her chin to meet her gaze again. "I love how open you are about all this. I don't know if I could even be this honest with myself. Not without you."

Isa exhales in relief, while her body relaxes against yours. "Thank you. I was so worried you’d think I was a freak or something."

"No way. I think it's incredibly sexy." And now that you're talking honesty. "I think I get what happened. It happened to me too."

"What's that?"

"Love at first sight."

Isa blinks, then bursts into laughter and hits your shoulder. "You're such a dork!" She shakes her head but continues to laugh heartily, eyes crinkled and flashing beautifully.

"But doesn't that describe this?"

Isa smirks and leans her head on your shoulder. "Maybe." She pokes your chest with a finger. "Honestly? Yeah. It does. I felt that, too. God, it's so stupid, right?" She laughs again, this time pressing her face into your chest. "We're seriously screwed, huh?"

"Yeah," you say gently. "We are."

Isa grabs your shirt and tilts her head upwards so that she can look at you again. "Like, who even does this?"

She leans towards you, closes her eyes, and kisses you with a gentle passion and small noises.

You run a hand down her back as the other cradles the back of her head. She groans softly into your lips, then parts them with her tongue as she sits up straighter.

"You and me," you say. "This is the kind of shit that happens when you meet your soulmate."

Her eyes fly open, and you chuckle. "Shut up! Stop!"

"If we're gonna be screwed, let's be screwed together."

"What even are you saying right now? You're so... mmm!" Isa lets out a strangled cry as your lips travel downward, planting light kisses on her jawline, her neck, and the crease between her neck and shoulder, before clamping onto the sweet flesh of her shoulder and sucking.

"I'll take care of you, I promise." Your kisses pause a moment, which earns a whimper from Isa as you look up at her.

Once more the silence falls over the two of you like a thick veil. This moment feels like forever, but in the whole history of forever, it has only just begun, too fast for you to comprehend.

"Please tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to," you say. "Whenever you feel uncomfortable, or don't like something I do, just tell me, okay?"

Isa nods. "Of course. Just…"

You don't remember when the two of you started slouching on the couch, or when you put your hand down your pants, or when she started rubbing her palm over her crotch. Your cock has been stiff this whole time, or that a wet spot has formed on her yoga pants. Her juices stain the fabric enough that you can see the outline of her pussy. You and Isa's hands move in unison, eye contact steadfast.

"So you like when I call you Kitten?" you ask.

She whines as she continues to rub her cunt. "Mhm!"

"I'll make sure to do it a lot. Call you good girl too."

"Ohmygod, fuck." Her other hand clutches her chest, pinching the nipple hardening through her tank top.

By now, you're so hard it's painful like it needs to escape or you'll die in the prison of your pants. "You're such a good girl. I love seeing you like this, kitten."

Her whimpers increase in pitch; the shape of her pussy is more pronounced; her pants are soaked to the touch. She's so wet you can smell it, the scent only furthering your lust. "I need it." Isa shuffles into your lap, ready to straddle and kiss you.

You pull back and grab her by the shoulders, turning her around to face the TV like you're a mere extension of the couch.

Isa whimpers. "What?"

Already, you find yourself slipping into your role, guided by your instincts. "You can be patient, can't you? You've been gone for a whole week. What's another ten minutes or however long is left in this show? Trust me."

"Fine." Isa pouts and crosses her arms and leans back against your chest. "I'll wait."

The two of you resume watching the show, and you have certainly missed what was going on because now they're in space or something. Isa wiggles her ass, and you squeeze her hips to still her movements. You're not sure who's being teased more here: your erection might break through your pants, and Isa seems to be on the brink of something with her sighs, with her thighs pressing together.

You whisper her new pet name Kitten in her ear; in response, she mouths out all sorts of names, Daddy, Sir, Owner, or Master. Each one sounds lovely falling off her tongue. With your chin on her shoulder, you intersperse lazy pecks on her cheek or neck.

As the current show about animal husbandry or astronomy or the world ending or whatever comes to a close, Isa leans back, and her earlobe grazes your lips. When you give a gentle nip, she sucks in her breath, and her hand goes to her mouth to contain a tiny yelp.

"Not too loud," you say, gentle but stern.

"Please, please"—her voice cracking—"I can't wait."

"You've done so well." You kiss her jaw. "What a good girl. What do you want?"

"I want to taste you. Please?"

"Yeah? Alright, you've been patient enough. You can have your treat, kitten."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Isa clambers off your lap, and then kneels between your legs, grabs your waistband; your cock springs up in front of her face. Her eyes go wide enough that the whites of her eyes are visible around her irises, and her mouth hangs open. Her fingers curl around you. "You're bigger than I imagined."

You must have an insufferable smirk on your face because she's already frowning and playfully swatting you. But just as quickly, lust washes over her features, her eyes narrowing. Isa's gaze is rapt as she strokes you with a feather-light touch, exploring your length with her palms, savoring the skin stretched over hardened steel. "What did you imagine?" you ask.

"About how you'd feel in my hand, in my mouth... in my pussy." She strokes you slowly, almost like petting a small animal.

"Did you think about me filling you up when you were on your camping trip?" You caress her cheek with your hand and run your thumb along her plump lower lip. "Did you picture me breeding you while you rubbed your clit?"

"Yeah. And I imagined you'd be big too. But this..." Isa becomes motionless, and she doesn't break eye contact with your dick.

"Enjoying the view?"

She nods.

"Show me how much then."

Isa closes her eyes and rubs her cheek against your length. She licks your cockhead, swirls over the crown, and dips into the slit. A kiss at the base of your cock, then another halfway down, and another at the very tip, all in that order and the reverse order and every other possible combination—she plants them all in the span of a few dizzying moments. With half-closed eyes somehow still focused on the task at hand, Isa mouths in the general region of your cock without actually sucking it. Not enough. Nowhere close to where you need to be. Just like the first date, Isa is so deeply aware of the effect she has on you, and yet playing at oblivious innocence and naivety. She's a cat playing with its food, but that makes sense because she is a cat.

You take a fistful of her hair, tug firmly, and let out a soft growl.

With a dribble of spit and precum on her chin, her gaze turns up, eyes wide with wonder. "S-sorry. I wanted to kiss it because it's so pretty."

"And I thought I was being a tease. Come on." You grab her by the chin and press your thumb into her bottom lip. "I thought you wanted to taste me."

"Yeah! Of course, I do." Isa nods. She wipes her chin with her arm, and with your other hand, you point your cock at her face.

"Open wide."

Her tongue lolls out. "Aahhh."

Rub the head of your dick along her lips, and Isa captures it with her mouth to suck. She hums contentedly, slurps on the crown while stroking with her palm. She drags her pursed lips down your shaft like she's worshiping vegan ice cream on a spoon. Isa bobs back and forth, careful at first but quickly gaining momentum and depth. Never once does she break eye contact, so eager to please you, to do good for her new owner. She's the perfect kitten.

You pet your kitten. "That's a good girl."

Simple words, simple touches, but they make Isa whimper into your cock. Her fingers work frantically beneath her waistband while she services you. The sound of her pussy's wetness is almost as loud as the sloppy noises of her blowjob.

"Thih, cock, sgooh," she mumbles on your dick. She spits you out, a long string of saliva trailing from her tongue to your dick, and then she smiles up at you like the happy little cat she is. "So good. I shouldn't have waited this long. I wish I'd done this on our first date."

You groan. "You would've done that? On our first date?"

"Mhmm!" Her tongue pokes out between her lips. "You didn't notice me teasing you the whole time? I swear I was being really obvious. And I was so turned on because of you."

"Yeah? Well, you made me feel like I could barely breathe around you, I was so fucking hot for you." 

"I know it makes me a slut—"

"No, it doesn't. If it's because of me... you know... soulmates..."

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Even if you're being silly." She smirks. "You don't have a problem with a slutty kitten though, do you?"

"Of course not."

Isa lets out a satisfied sigh and begins pumping your cock again. "Good. Because I would've gone under the table and blown you then and there if you asked."

"You're wild."

"You make me wild," she counters. She plants kisses along your shaft as she fondles your balls, her other hand still busy in her pants. "Or even when we walked through that alleyway. Do you remember? You were following me to my apartment and I swear I could feel your eyes on my ass."

You chuckle. "You weren't wrong. It's such a nice ass."

"Thank you!" In between words, she licks your sack with broad tongue swathes. "But when we got to the alley, I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me from behind. Or push me against the wall and fuck me. Or just shove me to my knees and fuck my mouth until you filled my belly with cum."

You grab her hair again and pull her away. "Hah. It'll be my pleasure to keep you well fed. But, as hot as that sounds, I think we should save that for another day."

As much as you want to continue this conversation, and as much as you want to hear Isa tell you all of her filthy little fantasies while she strokes you and pleases you and praises you, there's something more that's been occupying your mind: the pussy that's been drenching her clothes and making her moan into your cock with every stroke of her fingers.

"You said you had a rule for me. What was it again?" you ask.

Isa takes her hand out of her pants, leaving behind a damp stain on her pants, and licks them clean, like cleaning a mess of vegan ice cream—the image stuck with you quite profoundly—two fingers in her mouth, in and out, in and out, over and over until she finally pulls them out with a wet pop. "Oh yeah, that. I was having such a good time I forgot. But I… I just need it inside me so bad. I've been craving it forever. I can't believe how horny I am."

"That's not all you said though. You wanted me to do something for you, right?"

"Yeah. Right. I want to..." She falters as if the words have become foreign to her at this moment. Isa opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again before finally spitting them out: "I want to feel you cum inside me."

"That's it." You grab her hand. "I'm not just going to cum inside you though. I'm going to breed you. I'm going to make sure your womb is nice and full of my cum. How does that sound?"

"Yeah." Isa nods, nods harder, and ramps up until you see her happier than she's ever been before; she practically melts into your arms as she gets up and plants a kiss on your lips. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

It is much like you imagined: like the rest of her house, thoroughly decorated, a safe space with all sorts of cute trinkets and animal memorabilia, a plush rug on the floor, and a huge bed covered with a soft blanket, all in soft pastels. But a home is not a home without its pet: Isa lays down on her back and rubs her legs together, your dick still at attention for her.

You unbutton your shirt; she likewise divests herself of her clothing—her tank top rises to expose a bit of her flat stomach, she twists when taking off her bra, her breasts fall free, and she peels off her pants with such a slow deliberation that you can't tell if it's for show or if she's simply so aroused that it's painful to move. Her body is slim in the right places but with plenty to squeeze, her thighs and tits soft like marshmallows.

"Daddy," she purrs in response, patting the sheets.

"My turn to taste you."

You climb onto the bed and kneel between Isa's legs. You trace the contours of her thighs, loving how her nipples stiffen at your touch, how she squirms when your hands come too close to her dripping slit. Your fingers graze against the slick skin of her inner thigh, then brush lightly over her outer lips and clit and inner folds, then find their way back to your own lips, where you can't resist licking them clean, tasting your kitten—bitter yet sweet, salty yet fragrant—and Isa writhes in wanton display before you.

"Please. I want you inside me." Isa whines like a kitten in distress, and you plan on taking care of her distress now and always.

You lift her by the hips and shimmy under her body so that she straddles your face. "This first."

Once you steady Isa above you, your tongue flicks against the swollen bud of nerve endings; Isa cries out your name at the first touch. Then, you're licking away, lapping at her wetness that trickles down your throat. Her pussy lips are plump like the ones on her mouth; her clit is just as red as her lips as you pull the hood back with a finger and flick your tongue faster. Her body is still, frozen in rapture. Grab her ass. Push her closer. As you nuzzle into her folds, she leans forward, pressing her face to your hip, while hands grip your thighs and nails dig into your skin.

"Fuck! Daddy! So good," she squeals. "Ahh! Right there. Ohmygod, you're amazing at this. I can't even think... oh fuck!" Isa squeezes tighter around your head, which can't bother you one bit. You feel her warm and heavy weight on you, her body taut above you, and her breaths on your crotch are equally hot as the air around you. You can hear her muffled voice, though it's impossible to tell what she's saying from how much she's slurring her words and drooling onto your legs.

So you stop, wipe her juices from your face, and say, "What was that?"

"C-can I taste you too?" She looks back at you with wide, innocent eyes. "While you eat me out, can I suck your cock? Please? It looks so yummy."

"Hmm." You pretend to consider her offer for a moment and stroke the small of her back with your hands. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Isa kisses your leg, lapping up the mess she made, before pecking her way toward your cock. Just when you take another lick, her lips wrap around your shaft.

"Fuck," you curse when Isa starts bobbing her head on your cock again. You push your middle finger into her entrance to feel her walls squeeze around it and then press your mouth against her clit with renewed vigor. You start to hear and feel the gags she's making as she chokes on your cock—you wonder how far she'll go if she can take it down her throat.

Nothing distracts you from your delicious treat—you run the flat of your tongue across Isa's outer folds before switching to short licks inside of her, all while savoring the juices that dribble down your face. Her pussy tastes wonderful, a musty sweetness that is as addictive as a drug and just as hard to ignore. The moans that rumble in her throat and echo around your shaft—she is everything. You want to eat Isa's pussy every day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Does this count as vegan?) As your fingers work feverishly in tandem with your tongue, your hips thrust reflexively into her mouth. She pushes down as if she's trying to impale herself on your dick—until finally, finally, the tip hits the back of her throat. You've never been with a woman who took you so deep so quickly. Here she is managing it without an issue. She was made for this. Your kitten.

Isa pulls back and cries out: "Oh fuck, Daddy, please!" And it's not just that she's gasping for air because of your length: her body goes rigid while her legs squeeze you tight. With a shuddering cry, her juices gush out onto your face while you continue licking and drinking, all the way through the tail end of her climax.

When the trembling dies down, she collapses, body limp atop yours. While aftershocks rock her, two of your fingers slip into her entrance to tease out every bit of her pleasure, curling to find and push that spot deep inside. A third finger eases in, her pussy tender and pliable with arousal, and you can tell that Isa can barely move from how overstimulated she is; yet, when you pull your digits out, Isa whimpers at the emptiness. She nuzzles against your hip, eyes shut tight, and a grin like she's in a dream.

"That's it, kitten," you say. "That's what you deserve."

Isa lets out a cute, pleased noise. "I've never... not like that... I've never felt like that before." Biting her lip, she gazes at your still-erect member, close enough for her warm breath to tickle it. "D-Did you cum? I didn't feel you in my mouth."

"Not yet, kitten. Don't worry." You pat your cockhead against her cheek and nose. "You did such a good job. But I still want to fill you up like I promised."

"Good." She rolls off of you, then curls up on her side and bats her lashes at you. "I'm, um, I'm really, really sensitive now... But, also, I also need your dick inside me. Please."

"Okay, kitten." You sit up on the bed and whisper in her ear, "But only because you said please so nicely."

Isa's legs wrap around you like she's done this a hundred times before. Her eyes are so tender and sweet; it's almost enough to make you want to give up and hold her to your chest forever and forget about sex and cuddles. Almost.

You lay her down in the middle of the bed, a princess, a beloved pet, an object of your desire and adoration. She spreads herself for you, displaying her raw pussy lips and erect clit—she must be desperate for your cock to still be this swollen and needy after such a thorough orgasm. Like a test, you slap your shaft against Isa's pussy, earning a gasp as her body jerks upward in response. "I'm going to breed you, just like you asked."

"Yes," she says, with the widest, most joyful smile on her face while crossing her heels behind your back. "Fill me up with your cock, Daddy. I'm waiting."

"It'll hurt a little though." You thrust slowly along her cunt—her wetness coats the head of your cock as it pushes inside the tiny gap between her clit and the rest of her pussy—snug, snug, too snug for entry without some force.

"I don't care—ah!" She winces when you pull back and rub circles with the tip of your cock. "I've waited so long. And I know I'm safe with you."

You test the waters, dipping your cockhead once again, then a few dozen more times. Despite her discomfort, or because of it, she's trying to push back against you with every movement. She's so sensitive it looks painful—you're barely touching her with your cock and already she's squirming and whimpering.

"Give. Give it. Give it to me," she pleads.

One deep breath, two deep breaths, and then you capitulate, push inside—the hardest thing in the world meets and splits open the easiest/softest. A perfect match. The walls of her cunt stretch around your thickness, clinging on like they're never going to let go. Though you sink deeper and deeper with ease, the friction makes her squeal. Her back arches off the bed, she claws at the sheets, and her mouth falls open with a gasp that becomes a mewl that becomes a squeal that becomes a litany of garbled noises. It's a slow process, taking your time to ensure she can feel every vein, every contour of your cock. When your length carves out space in her pussy and hits that sweet spot inside her, she lets out a sigh and a whimper—she feels fuller than she has in her entire life.

"You good?" you ask.

She nods rapidly and flaps her arms at you; when you're within reach, she yanks you down for a sloppy kiss that mostly consists of sucking on your bottom lip while her tongue explores.

"You're such a good kitten," you whisper between kisses. "So good at taking my cock."

She mewls into your mouth and bucks her hips upwards. "But it's not enough. Need more."

You give a few shallow thrusts of your dick, your forehead against hers as you examine her reaction. "More? Is this better?"

"More." Whatever discomfort or pain is left on Isa's face melts away. She grinds as though to get closer, though she already has your whole length inside her. "Please."

You slam the length of your cock into Isa with a grunt—whatever thoughts are left in Isa's brain evaporate. Your pace is slow and deliberate, so she tries to fuck herself on you faster than you're fucking her; whenever you pull out, her hips follow after you, like she can't stand for your cock to leave her empty for so long.

You give one of her breasts a firm squeeze while your thumb rubs over her firm nipple. With your free hand, you slip two fingers into Isa's mouth; she accepts them readily, her tongue swirling around your digits. She sucks on your fingers till they're dripping with her spit—your other hand alternates between both breasts now. They deserve all the attention they get, and then ten times over. Isa's breasts aren't the biggest, but they're the prettiest: perky with small pink nipples; they bounce enticingly with your movements. When you squeeze them, she starts grazing your back with her nails while her heels dig into you. Her walls spasm and clench around your girth—her orgasm is imminent.

"Daddy, please," she whines. "Need to cum!"

"Kitten, we just got started." You pull your cock out of her pussy and slide it between her labia, between the plushness of her folds. You lean down to plant soft pecks on her forehead, on her eyelids, and then down to her lips again as you continue to rut against her pussy. "Aren't you sensitive?"

Isa lets out the cutest growl and shakes her head. "N-noouh... It, it doesn't matter. You stretch me open so good."

You slide your hands under Isa's ass; she sits up, making it easier for you to carry her off the bed. With her ankles still hooked around each other like a seatbelt, you stand upright, bringing Isa up with you—she's light as a feather as buries her face in the crook of your neck. Even as you take a step back, away from the bed, Isa continues to rub her sensitive core against your throbbing shaft. Maybe here, she's not so much a kitten, but a puppy whose tail wags when happy or excited.

Next to her nightstand, you press Isa against the wall with your body while you adjust your grip on her ass—in this position, your fingers sink deep into the supple flesh. You lower your hips to angle your cock towards the entrance of Isa's cunt and let gravity do its work: she sinks onto your dick with a squeal. Isa gasps sharply as your cock hits a new part of her insides, and she claws at your back harder than ever. You can almost see the outline of your shaft through her taut midriff with how deeply you're penetrating her.

Isa mutters, "So much of Daddy's cock is inside me. It feels so good. Harder. Fuck me harder."

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

You start bouncing her like a cheap toy, pulling her up until only the tip is inside of her, then slamming her back down to the hilt again with enough force to make the pictures on her wall rattle. Isa can do little more than hold onto you for dear life, your cock her only tether to this world—her eyes have gone blank again, and you can feel her going rigid in the same way she did earlier when you made her cum. You continue fucking into her with no pause in your rhythm, no rest for Isa's aching cunt.

"Cum with me, please! Please!"

"Gonna breed you so hard, kitten, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming," you manage to say, and that's all you can muster before the tidal wave of orgasm overtakes you and washes all other thoughts and feelings away. You pump her with everything you have, and it's a struggle to keep your balance, as you're responsible for the weight of both of you.

A strangled sound escapes Isa's lips, head thrown back, a rosy tint on her chest and face, nipples rock hard, breasts squished against your chest, eyes closed, brow furrowed, teeth gritted, thighs squeezing your hips with unbelievable force—it's an allergy-long list.

You know that she's feeling everything you're feeling. With every spasm of her walls around you milking you, your seed erupts inside of her and floods her womb. Your hips are a blur as they pump into Isa's warmth again and again. Her cunt is a hot and sticky mess with juices leaking down her inner thighs—you feel it all around your cock, dripping onto the carpet below—and you're adding thick rope after rope of your cum into the mix. Your knees are weak; they wobble like jello, but you fight to stay upright. Isa is still conscious—somewhat—and she clings to you for support and safety as if she wants to stay connected with you forever. You fuck her until neither of you can take it anymore, her silken heat pulsating with sensitivity. And then, she sighs, and you feel her body go slack, and you're ready to do the same.

The two of you collapse onto the bed, sweaty, tired, satisfied. There's an instant where you consider pulling out, but you don't. You can't; there's nowhere else to go and no one else to be. Isa asked you to cum inside, and you have, so you'll stay inside until your dick softens enough to slide out naturally. You enjoy the hot, slick feel of her insides too much anyway to want to pull out so quickly, the cream leaking out from around your cockhead. You also just want to bask in this afterglow with your precious kitten.

Isa curls up against you as she wraps her limbs around your body and pulls you close, and you feel a strange surge of emotion well up inside of you as you hold her in return. It's not the same euphoria from climaxing or even the physical warmth of sex. It's something deeper, something you've never felt before.

"How was your first time feeling cum inside?" you ask after a moment of silence.

"G-good." She grips your wrist tightly as her face flushes red again. "Even better than I imagined. And the fact it's yours... it makes me feel all fuzzy inside," she finishes softly.

You kiss her cheek. "I know what you mean."

"I can't believe it." Isa purrs as she rubs her ass against your limp cock. "You're really good at that," she murmurs while nuzzling into your neck. "What the hell. And you're telling me you had bad luck with girls before?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They couldn't handle my dick. And maybe I'd get too rough and... ah, never mind." You feel ashamed admitting these things, but Isa is so understanding. She rubs your cheek and smiles back at you.

"Hey, if they can't take it, that's their loss." Isa kisses you sweetly, then giggles.

There's something about the way Isa acts and talks and is, in general, that puts you at ease—as if she can accept you no matter who you are or what you do, which is funny because she barely knows anything about you."Kitten," you say to yourself, like a habit that's formed whenever you see her now. "Seriously, it's perfect for you."

"I love it." Isa responds. "And I love hearing it come out of your mouth."

"Actually. I can think of something better."

She stares up at you, her eyes half-lidded, her smile lazy and contented. "What is it?" she asks.

"Mine. My kitten."

Isa looks away, embarrassed. "Oh, well, okay then, I'm yours."

***

The more Lee Chaeyoung, your lover, opens up to you, the more she reveals how compatible the two of you are. You watch horror movies together, enjoy the same drinks, have similar tastes in food. She confesses a bit too eagerly that she loves to cook, finding it more of a challenge for her than anyone else. Best of all, her sense of humor clicks with yours. You feel like you could just talk for hours, whether it's idle chatter, playing games together, or simply relaxing and enjoying her company. Most importantly, the connection you two feel is immediate; your bodies, your minds, every part of you so in tune.

And then there are those wild fantasies that dance within her mind. It drives you to embark on late-night research sessions, delving into the depths of the internet to discover how best to fulfill her desires. While you cherish these wholesome moments with Isa, the temptation to give in becomes increasingly difficult to resist. With someone as naturally sensual as her, it's only a matter of time before you succumb. You get the funny feeling that Isa might find a way to substitute sleep with sex if given the chance.

After an exhausting day of work, you're at your usual rendezvous point with Isa, but with a few of her friends for dinner. Isa's eyes lock onto yours—you would travel to hell and back if it meant getting to see her smile like that; fortunately, the meeting spot is only a block away from the mundane inferno of your job. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms, her legs wrapped around your waist as she kisses you deeply. Her friends respond with various levels of disgust, amusement, and jealousy.

"How was your day?" she asks as she climbs down.

"It was okay, I guess. A lot better now that I got to see you." You stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead. "Sorry for being late. I had something important I needed to pick up."

"Oh?" A raise of her brow.

You reach into your pocket and pull out a small bag with a collection of hair ties. "Because you lost your favorite one a few days ago," you say.

Her eyes light up when she sees what's inside. "Thank you!" She wraps her arms around your neck and showers your face in kisses.

"Of course," you respond through stifled laughter. "You wouldn't stop whining about it."

She pulls back, mock offense written on her face before she eyes the small gift again with delight twinkling in her eyes. You share an affectionate bump as you return towards where her friends are waiting, the streets alive with the hum of nightlife and the liveliness of the city's residents.

As you all arrive at Sumin's apartment, you feel nervous, excited, and jittery all at the same time. You've only heard about these friends, and now there's all this pressure. Isa keeps staring at you and flashing you little knowing grins, and you can't stop smiling back at her. As you both sit down on the sofa and watch her friends cook in the kitchen, she throws herself into your lap, sitting with her legs draped over yours.

Woah," you say, surprised. "Are you trying to show off in front of your friends? Everyone's watching, you know."

Isa chuckles, leaning back against your chest and looking up at you. "Maybe. Do you want me to stop?"

You smile back at her, squeezing her thigh. "Uhh, a little, to be honest. I don't want your other friends to think of me as some douche."

She rubs her thumb across your palm, nodding in agreement. "I think I've made it obvious how much I like you, but you're right, you're right." Isa pouts, getting off your lap, though it's too late; you feel a stirring in your groin as you look at her slender body.

Just then, her friends finish up the meal, and everyone sits down to eat. Isa insists on sitting next to you, and she keeps smiling and looking over at you as you eat together. "Did you like the beef?" she asks. "I can cook it better than any you've ever had."

"Yeah, it was really good," you reply. You're still hungry. Not food.

"How did you two end up together?" Chaehyun asks before she drinks some more beer.

Sullyoon raises her hand, a grin on her as always when talking about you too. "Oh, it was me." She gives Isa a wink. "I actually set them up because Isa didn't have the balls."

Isa pouts. "Hey, that's not true."

You chuckle, enjoying the way her cheeks are flushed as her friends tease her.

"Besides, that was just the first step. What really sealed the deal was all the snacks he bought for me at the store," she says, grinning proudly.

"Really?" Sumin asks?

"Actually," you interject, "it was love at first sight when we saw each other."

"Eww," she says, rolling her eyes.

You grin sheepishly, putting your hands up defensively. "Well, it's true! We just... I don't know, there's just something about her that feels right."

Isa smiles and bites her lip, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she stares at you with dreamy eyes. "Yeah," she agrees softly.

There's a short lull in the conversation as everyone processes what you both have just said. You try to break the mood: "But really, it was the snacks. I'm serious!"

That earns a few laughs from everyone. Isa's hand rests on your shoulder, and you feel her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, brushing the goosebumps she just made. She bites her lip, looks over at you, and you can tell she's dying to get her hands on you, too.

The rest of the night goes along without a hitch as you play some games with everyone, eat more food. Afterwards, you walk with Isa, and she reaches out to grab your hand as you walk. The street lamps act as loyal guides, casting their gentle glow upon the silent, deserted roads, illuminating your path as you journey towards the car.

When you finally arrive at your destination, an electric charge lingers in the air, and if you look up there should be thunder clouds and static electricity where there's an inky black night sky, and kablam—Isa's lips meet yours, and there comes the strike.

As you reluctantly part, gasping for air, Isa leans her head against yours, her finger tracing a delicate path along your cheek. "I had so much fun tonight," she murmurs.

You run a hand through Isa’s red hair, a darker and more faded color. "Yeah. I did too."

"So… my place again?" she asks. It feels like the sort of question she'll be asking a lot.

You meet her gaze, giving her a nod and a renewed kiss. Opening the car door, you allow Isa to slip into the passenger seat.

"Did you like hanging out with my friends?" Isa asks.

"Yeah, a lot." When you step into the vehicle, you take in the new car smell; it's only a few days old. But more overpowering is Isa's hand cream as you take her hand and kiss it again, and again, and again.

She laughs as you tickle her with pecks. "They liked you too! I didn't think you would click so well with them." She pauses. "They also thought we were really cute together."

You start up the car and pull off, eager to get the two of you back to her place. "I'm glad. That means I get to keep being around your friends, which means I get to spend more time with you."

Her cheeks flush and her mouth quirks upward. "Okay, I have a question for you, what do you want to do when we get to my place?" Her tone is teasing and seductive.

"Hmm, I don't know. What do you want me to do to you?"

She grins and giggles, but doesn't answer right away. Her legs cross over each other as she ponders her response. You look at her and smile. You love how cute she looks when she's thinking, and you especially love when she's thinking of you. "We could… cook something. Together. Or, you know, you could read me a book to sleep and—no. Th-the only thing I can think of is last time... God, I don't want you to think of me as some kind of pervert."

"Hey," you say softly. "I like your perversion." Your fingers run along her thigh, brushing against her inner leg. "I've got some things in mind that I'd like to try myself, so it's fine."

"I can't even sleep in my own couch or bed properly without thinking about you fucking me," she mumbles, before biting her lip and staring out the window with a frown.

"I'm sorry."

She waves your apology away dismissively. "No! It's not that bad, I'm definitely exaggerating. But sometimes, before I sleep, I get into the same position and..." Her voice trails off as her eyes close and her eyebrows furrow together. Her hands move on their own, miming the same actions as they had before, fingers running down her torso, over her breasts, her hips. As quick as her hand makes it there, she stops, and the blush deepens on her face. Her eyes flutter open and meet yours, then flick to the road ahead of you. "Yeah," she says, trying to shake off the thoughts plaguing her mind.

"Woah," you say. You reach out and touch her thigh, running your fingertips along the smooth, cool material. "You okay?"

"Yes." Her gaze fixes on the passing scenery beyond the window. "Just... really turned on. And we still have a drive ahead."

You chuckle. "Well, I'll try my best to distract you."

Isa groans as you run a hand up her thigh and squeeze gently. She grabs your wrist. "Ah, ahhh, that feels nice. But don’t get carried away. Crashing isn’t sexy."

You laugh, nodding. "Right, right." You pull your hand back, focusing on the road.

The two of you have more mundane conversations, but somehow the topic comes up: "So you know how you... um, call me kitten?"

A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean into her words. "Yep."

Her cheeks flush, and she playfully averts her gaze, her voice tinged with a bashful giggle. "What if, uh, we played more with that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, since I love cats so much and we can't even have one." She holds up the cat plushie you keep in the car for good measure.

You also note the word "we" and smile to yourself. "Are you sure that's the reason? Not just you being horny."

"Yah!"

"Alright, alright," you concede, the playful tone of your voice mirroring hers. "So, what kind of things were you thinking of? Other than a collar, obviously."

"And a leash."

"Well…" Never mind, you don't mind eschewing some realism here.

"But, yeah, that was the start. That I kinda, you know, wanted to try. But also, you were really good at taking charge. How you teased me and made me wait and rewarded me when I'm good. More of that. I want you to claim me and own me and…" She trails off, too embarrassed and blushing to say anymore. It's incredibly cute to watch her squirm as she tries to bring up the rest of her ideas. With your research, you already have an idea of what sorts of things she might be into, but it’s best to hear from her.

"Go on, kitten, talk," you command, putting a heavy weight in your tone, and she almost immediately lets out a sigh of relief.

"Please, be patient," she whines, laughing. Her voice drops to a whisper, the lust in her eyes undeniable. "You could be the, uhm, dominant one and, uh, I would, do whatever you want me to."

"That’s what I figured."

"Right." She can't even look at you. "I meant, you know, really getting into it, the whole roleplay thing."

The mere idea makes you want to put the pedal to the floor and reach Isa's place as quickly as possible, but you calm yourself.

She continues: "So, you could, maybe pet me, and I would purr."

You pat the head of the cat plushie next to Isa, who places a hand on it, giggling. "Yeah, and you have such a cute little kitty mouth and even your tongue is like a little lappy tongue."

Isa turns even more red and stops talking, covering her face with her hands and laughing. You chuckle, and after a moment she gathers her wits and puts her hands down.

"Yeah," she confirms, her voice filled with both excitement and shyness. "And maybe... you can give me commands to learn some tricks. Like waving my paws at you or shaking my head no." Her words spill forth in a rush of anticipation.

And again, you want to note that’s less of a kitten thing and more of a puppy thing, but you don’t mind making an exception for her. A playful glint dances in your eyes. "And you're meant to be my plaything, a slutty... pet kitten for your owner?" you suggest, your voice heavy with desire and dominance.

She nods, her brain slipping like a broken record. "Yes," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything you said... and maybe you could really punish me if I'm naughty."

Isa's breath hitches, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she considers the question. "However you see fit. But maybe... you could take your belt and use it to smack my butt when I'm being naughty." She pauses, her voice growing softer. "Actually, I kinda like it when you're really rough with me. Like... how I get all dizzy when you tire me out. And it's hot when you treat me like a toy, like when you carried me… fuck. You could even tie me up or choke me, if that's what you want."

"Or I could just use a gag if I felt lazy," you say playfully, the possibilities swirling in your mind.

Isa laughs, a sound that holds both excitement and a hint of anticipation. Yet, beneath the laughter, a whimper escapes her lips. "Speaking of which," she murmurs, "I wanted to buy some things for this." Her eyes meet yours briefly before darting away. Isa squirms in her seat, her cheeks flushed as she busies herself with searching for the necessary items online. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, casting a warm and inviting light upon her features.

A smile graces your lips as you pat her head. "Good girl," you praise, your voice filled with affection. "I like it when you're helpful."

Eventually, she gives you directions to some store, and you continue driving in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts.

The two of you arrive, and you realize quickly that it's a sex shop, the neon sign flickering in the night, windows blackened by curtains. The car engine purrs to a halt.

"I was surprised it's still open," Isa says.

You glance at the shop's entrance, its door ajar, beckoning you inside, even if the rest of the exterior looks quite sketchy. "There are probably customers who can only shop for this kind of thing at night," you reply with a shrug.

Stepping out of the car, Isa leads the way, her stride filled with confidence. The store's interior greets you with emptiness, save for a bored employee who looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Undeterred, you grab a shopping basket, its metal handle cool against your palm, and begin to venture down the aisles, searching for the items you need. "I think we could get the collar and leash here," you suggest.

Your eyes scan the shelves until they land upon a display of collars and harnesses. Among them, one catches your attention—a delicate collar adorned with a tiny bell that tinkles with every movement, along with matching cat ears. You pluck it from its hook and hold it up for Isa to see. "This one is cute," you say, excitement lacing your voice.

Isa's eyes light up as she nods in agreement, her fingers reaching out to caress another collar with a keyhole cutout in the front. "This would work too.”

Together, you gather the collars and leashes, placing them gently into the basket. Your exploration continues, which leads you to a section dedicated to all things furry. A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you remark, "I guess we're furries now?"

Isa chuckles "I don't think just wearing cat ears makes me a furry."

Your search within the furry section yields a couple of tail plugs, their soft fur tickling your fingertips. You also grab a simpler metal butt plug, its smooth surface gleaming under the store's fluorescent lights. "But this part of the store has a lot of relevant things for us," you remark.

Isa's laughter echoes through the aisles as she plucks a box from the shelf and holds it up to her head. "Do you think this will look cute on me?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.

Taking the box from her hands, you read the label—a kit to transform Isa into a feline goddess, complete with cat ears, a bushy tail, and mitts made of faux fur for your hands to poke out from. She didn't have to ask—you can already picture it. "Hmm, I think so."

You grab a different set, one without the mitts instead. Your exploration of the shop continues until you find yourselves in the fetish and roleplay section, a realm filled with endless possibilities. Bondage ropes, gags, cuffs, tape, and a blindfold join the basket.

Isa's voice breaks through the silence, her tone filled with awe and amusement. "Wow, we are really going all in."

"Well, I mean, I guess we could gift these if we're not using any of them?"

 "That's true. Although, you know," she pauses, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I think I'd prefer to keep them, just in case."

 You nod, and continue browsing through the selections, adding more and more to the shopping basket. You eventually end up with a pile of toys and accessories, and you head to the counter to check out. The transaction complete, you grab the bags from the car and begin the journey back home.

 The weight of your purchases fills the car. "Don’t think I’ve ever spent that much," you jest, bags as passengers of the back seats. "I could've bought a refrigerator with what we got today. You looked pretty excited."

 Isa nudges your elbow gently as you resume driving. "Aww, c'mon. It wasn't that much."

 "It's a lot. But nothing says we have to use all of these tonight."

"I had fun anyway," she says, her eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief. "Like, I didn't even know they could sell a dildo in that size."

You shake your head in disbelief. "I definitely did not know that either."

The drive home is quieter now; perhaps both of you need some time to digest everything or maybe exhaustion has settled upon your shoulders, remarkably late to be shopping. Regardless, the silence wraps around you like a cozy blanket, comforting and familiar. You steal glances at Isa, her head nodding as she struggles to keep her eyes open, tiredness finally catching up with her.

As you approach the parking lot of her place, she turns to you, a yawn escaping her lips as she stretches. "So, are we really doing this tonight?"

You study her tired expression, a gentle smile curving your lips. "Looks like you don't have the energy for it."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement, her eyelids heavy. "But we can at least try on the collar, right? And maybe a leash too."

You park the car and enter her apartment hand in hand. Both of you are too weary to engage in anything too active. Sitting on her bed, you gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. With gentle hands and loving intent, you help Isa put on the collar and leash. In this quiet moment, the weight of your purchases fades into insignificance.

She leans against you and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. "Mmm, this feels nice," she whispers with a soft smile.

You wrap your arm around her, your touch grazing her back with tenderness. "Yes, it does," you respond, your voice laced with warmth as you press a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head.

Moments pass as you revel in the closeness and intimacy shared between you two. The weariness of the day slowly takes its toll on Isa, her eyes heavy with sleep as she falls into a peaceful slumber. You gently remove the collar from her delicate neck before joining her in a state of restfulness.

As dawn breaks, the darkness still cloaks the world beyond the windowsill, casting a serene atmosphere within the room. Isa lies beside you, her vivid red hair splayed gracefully across the pillow. Shifting slightly against the headboard, you sit up, observing her serene form.

Isa stirs beside you, murmuring softly in her sleep. Your hand instinctively glides through her hair, caressing her strands in an attempt to lull her back into peaceful dreams. Gradually, her restlessness subsides, and she curls up on the bed, her head resting gently in your lap. You continue to pet her, savoring the sensation of her soft hair cascading through your fingers, feeling the tension in her body gradually dissipate under your gentle touch.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you retrieve the collar and leash. With utmost care, you secure the collar around her neck, clasping it tenderly. Tugging gently on the leash, she shifts, turning onto her side as she gazes up at you with sleepy eyes.

"Hello," she murmurs softly, her voice raspy with sleep.

A playful twinkle dances in your eyes as she playfully paws at your pants, her actions betraying her half-awake state. "Hi, kitten," you respond, your words infused with affection.

Her lips curl into a contented smile, her eyes still closed. "Mmm, that feels lovely," she purrs, the warmth of her breath against your groin causing you to grow. She nuzzles her face closer, her cheek rubbing gently against your clothed erection, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from her lips.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper, pulling on her leash gently. "You like feeling your owner's cock on your face."

"Mmhmm," she mumbles in response, nodding with sleepy acquiescence. Her tongue slips out to moisten your clothed shaft, tracing teasing patterns that leave droplets of saliva upon the fabric.

You allow her to continue. Your hand continues to caress her hair while pulling lightly on the leash. She is fully awake now, but she maintains the guise of half-consciousness, her hands exploring your thighs, your hardened length, and eventually slipping beneath your waistband to cup your testicles. A quiet groan escapes your lips as her fingers tease and stroke your sac, intensifying the pleasure that courses through you.

Driven by desire and the intoxicating sensation of her touch, you slowly lower your pants and boxers. With closed eyes, Isa remains blissfully unaware of the freedom you have granted your erection. A mischievous giggle escapes her lips as your engorged shaft brushes against her nose.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay," she says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I love how big and heavy your cock is."

You drink in the sight before you, captivated by the image of her mouth agape, her tongue peeking out in anticipation. She searches for your shaft without needing to see it, her breath hot upon your skin. Finally finding your tip, she lavishes it with lazy kitten-like licks that send waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Isa begins to take your cockhead into her mouth, her movements unhurried as she places it delicately between her lips, producing a gentle hum of satisfaction. A quiet moan escapes your throat as you feel her warm and wet mouth enveloping your tip, her tongue swirling sensually along your shaft. Her fingers find their way to the base of your cock, stroking it with a gentle rhythm.

The leash tightens around your hand as a surge of heat courses through your veins. Isa continues to suckle on your tip with an air of carefree abandon, contentedly humming and purring against the sensitive flesh. Her other hand tenderly caresses your testicles, eliciting a louder moan of pleasure from your lips.

If not for the telltale signs of her increasing arousal, you might still believe the façade of her half-asleep state. Yet, her hips writhe and rise in the air, her thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for more. Entranced by this view of her unbridled desire, your hand descends to grab and squeeze her ass through her sweatpants. She gasps in response, her hand quickening its pace along your length. The passion between you intensifies as she strives to maintain her lips around your cockhead while her fingers twist around your engorged shaft. The pleasure becomes nearly overwhelming, the warmth and wetness of her mouth coupled with the tantalizing flicks of her tongue sending you hurtling towards the precipice of climax. It is then that you pull on her leash, your voice laden with a mixture of restraint and longing.

You reluctantly withdraw the pulsating erection from her entrancing mouth, causing Isa to emit a soft whimper as you gently lift her to meet your gaze. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from your earlier intimacy. The sight of her arousal is almost too much to bear.

"How about we pick up where we left off last night?" you suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isa nods eagerly, her eyes lustful and full of desire. "Yes, Daddy," she whispers back, her voice trembling with anticipation.

You tenderly stroke her hair, the gesture eliciting shivers from her delicate frame. "Good girl," you murmur, your voice filled with affection. "Now, take off your clothes for me and get on all fours on the bed."

She obeys your command, her movements graceful as she removes her shirt and sweatpants. Her breath catches in her throat as her breasts bounce freely, their curves captivating your gaze. With each article of clothing discarded, her thick hips are bared to you, an invitation that sets your pulse racing. The sight of her thighs, smooth and inviting, arouses a primal desire within you. Your palm glides across their soft, pillowy skin, reveling in the exquisite sensation.

You reach down and retrieve the bags you left on the floor, your fingers grazing over the array of items until they land on the cat tail plug nestled among the contents. The plug end gleams in the soft light, its sleek surface inviting to the touch. With a gentle caress, you turn it over in your hand, feeling the plushness of the fluffy tail against your skin. Running the tail plug over Isa's body, you revel in the power it holds. The toy traces a path along her bare chest and down her bare legs, the contrast of the cold metal and the soft fur eliciting a delicious squirm from her. Your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you ask, "Have you ever tried anything anal before? Or this type of toy?"

Isa shakes her head bashfully, yet there's a palpable eagerness in her eyes as she holds her hands behind her back, offering herself to you completely.

"I'm going to have to prepare you then," you say, taking out a bottle of lube and applying it generously to the plug. You take the bottle with you as you settle on your knees and crouch down behind her ass, holding the toy in one hand. Your index prods the underside of her tailbone, and she gasps as you reach down, kissing her plump asscheeks. "Is this okay?" you ask, wanting to make sure.

"Y-yes, Daddy," Isa stammers. You drag the pad of your finger against her skin, eliciting a tremor from her and a new gasp that drops into a long moan, and then you take that as a cue to rub it down her crack, tickling her pussy along the way. "O-oh, Daddy!" she whines, humping your hand in need.

"Kitten, remember." As you speak, you press two of your fingers between her plump folds, your thumb and forefinger gently squeezing her clit. She wiggles her ass, squeaking. "If you want to be a good girl, you have to be patient."

"Daddy," she begs, "please, please, more..." She bucks again, her wet folds clamping around your fingers and your knuckles squeezing her entrance. You rub them up and down, spreading her juices. She's a sticky mess, her arousal dripping down your hand, and you grin, pleased.

"No, not yet. We have to get your ass ready first." Your pointer digit now slick, you squeeze a dollop of lube in your other hand, and you smear it along her asshole.

"Ah!" Isa cries, tensing up at the sudden cold. You shush her, rubbing her pucker with your fingertip, then gradually pressing your lubed finger into her, past the tight ring of muscle, feeling the walls of her ass tense around your digit. You move slowly, pushing your finger further into Isa, letting her get used to the sensation. You reach the second knuckle, and you can feel her starting to relax, her walls loosening up around you. "Ohhh," she moans, her hands balled into fists on the bedsheets.

You curl your finger, pushing against her walls, trying to get her accustomed to the sensation. She moans louder, her hips bucking back against your hand. She seems to be enjoying herself, so you continue, slipping another finger into her ass, this time your middle finger.

"Ah! Daddy!" She cries out, her back arching and her ass pushing against your fingers, taking them deeper into her. You continue, working your fingers in and out of her ass, stretching her out. "It feels so good, Daddy," she moans, her voice trembling.

You pull your fingers out of her ass, and you place the tip of the plug against her, gently pushing it in. "Here’s the plug now," you explain, as you press it against her entrance. "You need to relax, kitten, and let it in."

With a whimper, Isa goes pliant, and you exert steady pressure. Her brow furrows as the plug breaches her entrance, slowly sinking into her clutching heat. She winces as the girth spreads her wide, and you pause, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion.

When her expression smooths, you resume pushing, watching inch after inch disappear until only the flared base remains nestled between her cheeks. The furry tail sways with each squirm of her hips.

You caress the warm skin of her backside. "How does that feel, kitten?"

"So good, Daddy," she breathes, gazing at you through heavy lids. "I didn't know my ass could stretch like that."

A surge of pride washes over you as you reward her obedience with words of affirmation. "Good girl," you murmur, pressing a kiss against her ass before redirecting your attention to her dripping-wet pussy. With a teasing motion, you spread her folds apart, running your fingers up and down her slick slit, teasing her entrance. Her thighs fall open with a needy whine. "I think we should have some breakfast first," you say, unable to keep the grin from your voice.

She whines. "Nooo, but I, I need your cock, in me, or your fingers, or anything—"

"Not yet," you say sternly. "You have to be patient. And if I tell you to wait, then you'll wait."

Isa pouts in response, her bottom lip jutting out in a sulky pout, but ultimately nods her agreement. You remove the leash from her collar, and the two of you make your way towards the kitchen. As she walks, there’s a slight awkwardness to her gait, a subtle gracelessness that somehow only adds to her allure. Her posterior sways enticingly with each step, captivating your attention as you trail behind in a purposeful slowness. She knows what she’s doing too: the seductive undulation of her hips from side to side makes her tail bounce playfully, and she casts a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

You follow her lead, entering the kitchen where you open the fridge and begin gathering ingredients. Your eyes flick towards Isa, who’s settled herself onto a barstool. Her legs are spread wide, and her fingers tease and rub at her own clit. The tail plug nestled between her legs seems like the most natural extension of her body. A mixture of surprise and intrigue crosses your face. "What are you doing?" you ask, walking over to her.

She blinks up at you with feigned innocence, but a glint of mischief dances in her eyes. "Just getting used to my new tail, Daddy," she purrs playfully. "Aren't I such a good kitten?"

You shake your head. "Looks like you're trying to make me fuck you." You reach over, taking hold of the base of the tail plug and pulling it out slightly, before shoving it back in. Isa cries out, her body tensing up as you repeat the action, fucking her ass with the plug. "If you can't control yourself, then maybe I'll just have to punish you."

A chorus of moans escapes Isa's lips, her defiant fingers moving faster against her clit in a desperate plea for more. "Yes, Daddy, please," she begs, her voice a symphony of need and longing.

Your grin widens, a surge of dominance coursing through your veins as you grab her arm, pulling it away from her throbbing core. "No, kitten," you assert firmly, your voice commanding. "You're not allowed to touch yourself."

Isa whimpers in protest, her desire palpable, but she obediently complies with your command, her hands remaining bound behind her back. You release her arm, your eyes locked on the sight of her restrained beauty, her need radiating from every pore.

"Since you insist on misbehaving like that," you declare, your voice laced with a hint of playful authority, "I'll have to tie you properly." With purposeful determination, you retrieve the rope you had acquired for this very purpose, expertly maneuvering it around her delicate wrists, binding them securely together. Isa's whimper of surrender echoes through the room as the rope bites into her skin, marking her as yours.

With the task completed, you turn your attention back to the kitchen, resuming your culinary endeavors. The rhythmic sound of knife meeting cutting board fills the air as you deftly chop vegetables and toss them into a waiting bowl. Isa's eyes never leave you, her body wriggling with anticipation and desire, the tail plug nestled between her legs a constant reminder of her submissive state.

"Daddy, please," she pleads, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "I want your cock so bad. I need you to fuck me."

You shake your head, ignoring her, and continue working. You add the dressing to the salad, and you bring it over to her. She glances toward the cutlery in front of her, and you nod—if she wants to be a naughty animal, then she deserves to be treated like one. You also give her water in a bowl for added measure. You smile as you watch her try to pick up the salad with her mouth, struggling to use her lips and tongue to get the lettuce into her mouth. She eventually manages it, and she starts chewing, swallowing the vegetables. Isa also laps up from the bowl with a blush on her face.

You watch her eat, pleased, and you stroke your cock through your pants, teasing yourself. After she finishes the salad and as much of the water as she can, you get up from your seat, and you grab a hold of the rope binding her wrists together, pulling on it and leading her to the bedroom.

You help carefully pull the tail plug out of her ass, and you slip in a new butt plug, smaller and more discreet. "I think you can handle this one," you say, squeezing her ass and rubbing her back. She mewls, her legs quivering.

You grab a pair of panties and slip them onto her, helping her into them and pulling them up her thick thighs. She wiggles her hips, struggling to keep herself balanced as you adjust them for her, before you take out a skirt and help her step into it.

"We're going out today, kitten," you say. "You're going to wear your collar and cat ears in public, and no one will know that your slutty kitten asshole is going to be filled up. And if you’re good, then maybe you’ll get what you really want."

"Really?" she asks, her eyes widening with excitement.

You nod. "Yes, really."

"O-Okay." You quickly dress and head outside, the two of you enjoying the morning and the quiet streets. You don't have any concrete plans today, but there's a list of things in your mind that you would enjoy getting Isa to do: pet her in public, talk her into cumming just from sitting in your lap, even a spank here or there. While you don't bring the leash this time, you might try it some time in the future, and you want her to be comfortable. Right now, she just looks like a fashionable girl wearing animal ears.

As the two of you go on with your day, you try to spot signs of the fact she's aroused: the way she walks, the way she moves her arms, her eyes constantly wandering down and scanning the bulge in your pants. You catch her trying to squeeze her legs together or rub her thighs to get friction. At one point, when you sit in an isolated corner of a coffee shop, she rests her head in your lap and purrs contentedly. You gently rub her hair and scratch behind her ears, whispering for her to "think about Master's cock filling you up while your other hole's all plugged up" but also "not to cum without Master's permission." There's a soft moan against your crotch, then a warm sigh as her cheek rubs into your leg.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

After spending the whole day taking her around and making her go do mundane tasks with the plug, and most importantly having her beg and beg for you to fuck her—"in the park, on a bench, or the bushes in a hiking trail, anywhere please" she said—you're excited, eager for this evening. Isa looks back at you with tears brimming in her eyes, and her knees wobbling, as she's panting and trying to hold back from cumming. "Please," she begs. "I need it. Please, anything."

You think you have her just about at her limit when you both return to the car to drive back to Isa's place. Even the walk from the parking lot to Isa's apartment door has her clinging to you for support as she stumbles.

"Hey, kitten," you say, touching the small of her back under her shirt. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine. I'm just, so, so, worked up, fuck. I want your cock," she pouts, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She hunches forward, unable to look at you.

"I bet," you tease, kissing the top of her head. "I'll give you what you want soon, kitten. Just a little longer."

She whimpers. "Please."

"Okay, c'mon, baby," you say, letting go and opening the door for her. She staggers in on her jelly-like legs, her cheeks flushed and her breath hitching. You get behind her and hug her; holding her as tightly as you are, Isa relaxes into you. Her heart is pounding wildly against your palm. You set her down onto the couch, and she gives you a grateful smile, which you kiss in turn. Your hands roam all over her, down her waist and settling between her legs. You slip under her panties and tease the metal plug in her butt, twisting it until you hear a deep sigh from her. "You're so wet," you tell her. "Look at you. So sweet."

She makes a keening noise when you tug on the plug, just so, just enough to remind her of what you both want. Your finger teases along her folds, gently brushing up and down against the seam, up towards the hood of her clit. Isa shivers.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" you ask as you rub her clit.

"Mmhm," Isa nods furiously, her hands coming up to grasp at your shoulders, looking for purchase. "P-please. Make me cum."

At this point, a single digit thrust would probably be enough to push her over the edge. Instead, you remove your hands from her panties, place them on her breasts, squeeze them, and gently tug on her nipples. You love the way the skin of her neck and breasts blush with arousal. "You've been a good kitten," you say, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. "I'm so proud of you."

“Can, can I get a reward?” she asks, almost in tears.

You brush her tousled hair. “Shh, shh, of course. Do you want to cum on Daddy’s face?”

She nods emphatically while her pussy soaks her panties and leaks onto the couch. “Y-yes, Daddy, anything.”

In response, you pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, and she clings to you like a lifeline, as if afraid that if she lets you go, you won’t touch her and she might break into pieces from frustration. You lie down on the bed, and Isa climbs on top of you.

She quickly aligns her pussy with your face, and your mouth waters in anticipation at the sight of her darkened panties. You hook one finger around the thin and wet fabric and pull them down to reveal her swollen pussy, her asshole plugged tightly. “You smell so good,” you say, licking your lips as she mewls. “Sit.”

Isa does as told, and the warmth of her mound rests on your chin. She braces her hands on the headboard as you raise your head a bit to reach her core. You kiss her lower lips with reverence and delicacy, like you would kiss her lips. They're warm, warm and soaked with her honey, and they part easily to reveal the pink insides. Her clit is standing erect, almost painfully so, and the hood has pulled away.

You begin by flicking the tip of your tongue against it. She jumps. Then, you take the sensitive pearl into your mouth. Isa groans at this, but you don't stay for too long. You place wet, loud kisses against her mound and inner thighs, before going back to her clit. This time, you suck on it. A little nip sends her jumping on you again, and she yelps. The next kiss is quick and soft.

As she grows accustomed to the new stimulation, you suck and lick and nibble her clit, all while keeping an eye on her face. You see it scrunch up, her nose crinkling in pleasure, her eyes shut. Her moans are accompanied by whines, little pathetic sounds that let you know she's getting close to her breaking point.

There is nothing quite like eating out Isa while she has a toy in her ass and she's wearing cat ears and a cute collar, but more delicious than any picture is the taste of her cream, musky and tangy and addictive. It drips from the swollen labia that your tongue slides through, coating your tongue and making you dizzy with lust. It's strong and you can't help but groan as you dig your face deeper against her sex, lips meeting lips as your tongue.

Isa grinds down on your mouth, and her hips tremble when you begin to circle your tongue around her clit, giving the firm bundle of nerves light but frequent attention. She's a mess on you, and you're happy to be cleanup duty, your chin and shirt a mop. As she rocks back and forth, you reach up at her nipples through her shirt and twist and pinch and roll the stiff buds.

With that, Isa's hips rock one last time as her thighs close and press against the sides of your head. You hear the distant, muffled, muted sounds of her whining, crying, moaning. By now, you can even feel how hard her heart is beating. Her breaths become erratic, and the trembling of her hips turns into shaking. She leans backwards, balancing her weight on your midsection, and the tension in her body snaps.

For a moment, she's floating, mind empty, then everything rushes into her brain like a dam has broken. For the first time that day, she cums, and she cums hard. She's always thought of it as "seeing stars" but now it feels more like being tossed into space and feeling all the gravity around her all at once. All the weight on her body disappears, but the pressure of you increases. She doesn't hear, she doesn't feel. Isa is the color white.

All of a sudden, Isa feels weak. It feels like the universe is a heavy blanket on her. She can barely hold her weight on her body. You're the only thing that feels real at the moment. That, and her pussy, which still tingles with her orgasm, and you can only imagine how the plug in her ass is magnifying everything.

Isa collapses against you, the softness of her flesh warming your chest. She's still convulsing with little aftershocks, her entire body covered in goosebumps. She hears herself saying things like "I love you so much" and "thank you Daddy thank you". The words leave her mouth on their own as she begins to come down from her high.

For as much as you love being her seat, you pull her down into a spoon. You wrap your arms around her. Her heart pounds against your forearm and hand. The scent of her shampoo and sweat fill your nostrils. Everything is still hot from her body heat, and you take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. "Was that worth the wait, kitten?" you ask her.

"Yeah," she says weakly, the only word she can manage at the moment. Her legs are still shaking, and she takes a few moments to focus on slowing down her breathing and her heartbeat. "Well..."

"Well? You need more, huh?" you chuckle. You should've learned to never be surprised at Isa's appetite by now, and the plug in her ass isn't making her any less horny.

"Mmm, mhm. I need your cock so badly. Fuck my ass. I need Daddy to claim me."

You kiss her cheek and tell her to flip over so that she's laying on her stomach, her round ass staring up at you. "You did such a good job," you whisper as you rub your palms across her lower back before lifting her skirt to get a good view.

The plug sits in Isa's asshole, glistening with her fluids. A bottle of lube waits on the nightstand, and you pour it generously over her crack. With as much care as you can muster, you begin to slowly draw it out, savoring the sight of her clenched hole stretching to accommodate the thickest part of the toy. There is an audible pop when the tapered plug slips free, causing Isa to hiss in pleasure as her rectum reflexively tightens to fill the emptiness left inside.

Her delicate fingers reach behind to part her plump cheeks and expose herself further to your gaze. You bite your lip, taken by the lewdness of the image in front of you. You add more lube to the area, another spurt on your index, and circle around the ring of her anus to coat it before pushing a finger in, massaging her inner walls. "How does that feel, baby?" you ask, watching the way her head jerks back and she squirms beneath you.

"Amazing," she mutters, her voice sounding far away. Prone on the bed, Isa is powerless to resist as you slowly remove your finger, adding a second digit. Her ass grips you so snugly, sucking you deeper with each pump, like it's a sleeve for your fingers. She trembles at the feeling of fullness inside, at the raw vulnerability of being splayed before you like this, your gaze unabashedly on her naked ass as you work her open. "C-can you bring me a pillow, please?"

You kiss the nape of her neck as you reach down and slide the pillow under her pelvis. Her ass raised, her back arched, Isa is the picture of supplication. "So beautiful," you whisper against her skin, and she shudders with arousal.

"Da... daddy, do you need to stretch me more?" Isa stammers. You place your palm at the small of her back, caressing the dip of her spine with gentle circles.

"No, kitten," you soothe. "You're ready."

"Yes. God, yes."

With one hand squeezing the supple curve of her butt, you pour lube liberally across the tip of your erection. You position the head of your cock at the rim of her ass and begin to apply pressure, using your thumbs to massage her soft cheeks. Even your tip struggles to breach her, her entrance reluctant to admit anything more girthy than a couple of fingers. With more lube, and two hands spreading her ass open, you finally push through her anal muscles' resistance, gasping as the tightness and warmth of her insides engulfs the head of your shaft.

Isa tenses in response, her hands clawing at the bed sheets. The sound she lets out is almost like a pained meow as your cock plunges further into her depths. "Relax," you murmur, using a tender yet reassuring voice to soothe her.

She responds by shifting her hips, attempting to adjust the angle to your thrust, her movements awkward and fumbling due to her precarious position. Her efforts cause her to clench down on your shaft, a wave of pleasure washing over you, before relaxing once again.

A shaky breath escapes your throat as you feel yourself slipping past the ring of her sphincter. "Good, good girl," you praise once you've sunk halfway into her, taking a moment to drink in the erotic view in front of you. "Fuck, you're tight. Almost there."

Her body shudders as she fights to hold still, to restrain her hips from moving on their own accord, a low cry emanating from her lips.

Your hand roams over her waist and upper thigh, seeking out the delicate bud hidden in the cleft of her pussy. You rub a couple of fingers over the tender flesh, delighting in the way her back arches as you stimulate the swollen organ. Savoring her broken sobs, you ease forward, burying the rest of your length in her ass. You gently slap her butt, marveling at the way it bounces with each contact.

Isa moans as you pull your dick out slightly before plunging it back into her ass, beginning with slow, shallow pumps. The motion is easy and fluid, despite her virgin-tightness.

You press your palms flat against the mattress and use your forearms for leverage to piston into her. As you drive your shaft deeper into her ass, the combination of her intoxicating aroma and your lust for her spurs you to move faster and harder, until you find yourself rutting her, your balls slapping against her puffy cunt with each frantic thrust.

"Yes! More," she begs, and you groan in reply. Your eyes are fixed on your cock, sliding in and out of her stretched hole, the ridges of your shaft disappearing and reappearing as you pump. Your mouth goes dry as you watch the way her body clings to your cock, how she's utterly and completely full of you.

"Fuck, look at you, so greedy," you growl as she pushes back against your cock. You pause for a brief moment and she whines in protest, then you unsheathe your dick and slap it against her gaping asshole. She jolts at the impact, her body shivering at the feeling. Your hips pull back, and with a powerful snap, you ram your cock into her asshole. She cries out in pain and pleasure, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"D-daddy, don't tease me!" she exclaims, her voice pleading, yet laced with desperation. You smirk at the familiarity of her tone.

You bend down, wrapping your arm around her torso and pulling her up and flush against your chest, the weight of her breasts pressing against your bicep and forearm. In this position, both of you are sitting up, her in your lap like you're her throne—her master, her god, her owner. She leans into you, tilting her head back to look up into your eyes, the adoration and reverence shining within her gaze unmistakable. Your shaft presses against her lower back, and she wiggles her ass desperately to urge you to keep fucking her.

You kiss her neck, inhaling her scent, her arousal. With such an incredible woman in your arms, you are overcome by the desire to mark her, to stake your claim on her, to brand her as your possession. In one swift movement, you sink your teeth into her neck, biting into the delicate skin. Isa whines, her head thrown back, eyes half-lidded and glazed over "Mine," you utter in a low, possessive voice.

"Yours," she answers breathlessly, her lips curled in a delirious smile.

You wrap two large hands around her waist, angling your hips just so as you lift her up, and then, she's sliding down your cock, enveloping you in her warmth as you fill her to the brim. As she takes you into her, she stretches open and lets out an obscene moan, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"D-daddy!" Isa whimpers, her body trembling at the intensity of the sensations flooding her. "You're so big."

Sitting on you like this, your cock feels impossibly thick inside of her. She can't help the way her thighs twitch involuntarily, nor can she ignore the way her pussy clenches at nothing. With both of her hands, she grabs onto your arm and guides your hand down between her legs, right over her pussy.

"Touch me," she breathes.

You grin at her request, and you oblige, bringing your fingers to her clit. At that moment, you roll your hips upward, meeting her downward motions with a rough, deep thrust, the force of which knocks the breath out of her lungs. Any amount of control she has above you evaporates at this point, leaving her helpless as you bounce her in your lap while your digits play at her raw and pink nub, or probe her slick, wet entrance.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of her whimpers, of the wet slaps of her ass against your hips, of her needy begging, and of your guttural grunts of effort. Despite the intense climax that shook her only minutes ago, Isa finds herself teetering on the edge of another, and she yearns for release. She's not the only one: her walls cling tightly to your shaft, refusing to yield its grip, and your length pulses with the desperate desire to burst.

"God, I want to feel you cum in my ass, Daddy," she sighs, her head rolling back to lean on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed in concentration, and her mouth hangs open as she gasps and pants and cries with each penetration. You grunt, your gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of her: her reddened, sweaty face, the droplets of perspiration that cling to her collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of her heaving chest, the swaying of her heavy, unrestrained tits.

You suckle at the skin behind her ear, grazing her lobe with your teeth. "Then cum, kitten."

In an instant, a tremor shoots up her spine. With a scream of pure pleasure, her body becomes rigid and then goes limp, her senses overloading as her cunt clamps around your fingers—which doesn't compare at all to her ass clenching and tightening around your cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum too—"

But Isa's mind is hazy with ecstasy, her body taut with her own release, that she barely registers the hot and sticky substance suddenly gushing into her anal entrance. Yours on the other hand is sharp and clear as day, and you allow yourself to drown in the euphoria that comes with each spurt. She's a perfect fit for you, made to be yours, and you've marked her as such. Every time she clenches in her pleasure, your cock responds with its own throb, its own gush, its own pulse.

When you collapse, she collapses with you, her thighs sticky and wet as she pants on the bed, lying beside you. You grab a bunch of tissue paper, clean the leaky, creamy mess you've made of her ass.

Her eyes flutter shut and you whisper words of affection and praise. You cradle her in your arms, stroking her hair and tracing patterns across the flushed skin of her back and belly, enjoying the warmth of her body. Her head rests on your shoulder, your neck. Your legs are entwined, and the softness of her chest molds to the planes of your own. Her breathing eventually steadies, and her pulse calms.

Isa lifts her head up, placing her hands on your chest to prop herself up. With lidded eyes and a mischievous smile, she whispers, "I hope you know what you started, Daddy."

A wicked grin creeps upon your lips at her implication, and your hands find their way to her waist, squeezing her hipbones. "And what's that?"

Her gaze softens, and she gazes lovingly into your eyes, a shy smile on her lips. "I hope you don't plan on going anywhere. I don't think I can ever let you go, especially now," she says softly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"I wouldn't dream of it." You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "You're mine. So I'm yours, kitten."

"Good."

Isa smiles, and you'll never fail to fall in love with the sight of her radiance; that smile makes you believe you may never fail again.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Not really in the Christmas/holiday spirit but I figured might as well pull it out of the draft archives before the year end.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars • Part 2

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes. 

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods. 

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.” 

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost. 

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?” 

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.” 

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.” 

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you. 

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to. 

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way. 

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

[sylvieisoffline]

Steamy Interrogation

word count: 3k words

tags: 🔞 Explicit sexual content / NSFW (18+) MDNI! | Slight Gunplay (used as a prop)| Dubcon | Improper Use of Evol | Power Imbalance | Mild Objectification | Overstimulation

Please only consume what you can handle.

note: Aaaand I'm back with another Sylus fic! I swear I have the other LIs in my drafts, it's just that I'm so inspired doing Sylus' ones first haha. Have y'all seen Magnum Opus? It's soooo good and I'm so satisfied with how they gave us a peek into sylusmc's dynamic in a free 5-Star Card. Hope you enjoy this one and please let me know in the comments what you'd like to read from me next. divider by: @cafekitsune

You text Kieran after a particularly arduous mission, asking if you could use the hot tub on their penthouse again. You were already in front of the unit but insisted on waiting for his reply before you go in.

It had been a sort of an after-mission ritual. When after one mission had you very sore and your gym buddy / best friend Kieran started offering access to one of his brother's places. You were reluctant at first, initially overcome with embarrassment with the idea of taking baths on another person's place. Someone you haven't met moreso.

"My brother doesn't stay there anyway. He just bought the place 'cause it looked nice and wanted to have someplace to stay whenever he's here in Linkon—which he rarely does now by the way. Even Luke is sulking with how busy he's become that he doesn't even visit now."

You agreed then, asking him, like, ten more times after that even if he kept reassuring you that it was fine.

You were pulled back to reality when your phone pinged with a new notification.

“Sure, left the doors open. Make yourself at home ;)”

You thanked him, entering the unit and depositing your stuff on one of the couches. The place is quiet—sunlight slicing through the tall glass windows, steam already curling from the water’s surface. You strip without much thought and slip into the heat, letting it swallow the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you climb out and sit at the edge, towel draped lazily across your lap as you dry your hair.

That’s when you hear the bathroom door open.

Heavy, deliberate steps echo into the space, followed by the unmistakable sound of a safety catch clicking off.

“Don’t move.”

You freeze.

Your breath catches as you look up—and see him.

Not Kieran.

Someone else. Taller. Sharper.

Ruby eyes locked on you, gun aimed steady and unshaking.

“Who the hell are you?” “I—I thought this place was empty,” you stammer, arms instinctively tightening around your towel. “Hands where I can see them,” he says coldly.

You raise your arms slowly. The towel lifts with you, but slips slightly—your bare body catching in the low light.

His right eye glows as he's scrutinizing but his expression doesn’t change. You can't help but marvel at the sight.

You momentarily hope that he doesn't sense the ugly feeling other than fear simmering in your system after being entranced in his eyes like that.

“Drop it.” “What?” “The towel.”

You hesitate. But he doesn’t lower the gun.

Your fingers loosen, the towel falls in a soft heap by your feet. You stand there, completely bare under his gaze.

“Turn around,” he commands.

You swallow hard and obey.

Behind you, the silence stretches—then breaks.

You hear the rustling of clothes. Heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. Something heavy hits the floor as goosebumps crawl through your skin.

You hear footsteps again—bare this time. He comes closer.

The cold press of the barrel nudges the small of your back.

“Move.”

You step forward, slowly, heart racing, body burning with both dread and something else.

He deliberately walks behind you, still holding the gun to the small of your back while nearing the tub. You hesitantly dip yourself back in the bubbling water and hear him follow suit.

The soft click of metal resounds in the bathroom as he sets the gun down on the ledge. Then, you hear something unfamiliar—an electric hum, faint and low. A red current crawls up your limbs before you can react.

You gasp.

Your wrists are yanked back behind you—locked in place. Your ankles drawn together, suspended in a precise tension as your body floats slightly above the water’s surface.

“What—what is this—?” “It's my evol, miss.” he murmurs, voice low and unreadable.

You struggle, but his Evol holds firm.

Then suddenly—he’s behind you.

You feel him.

The weight of his chest just barely grazing your back, his breath curling against your ear, and lower still—the unmistakable, thick heat resting against the dip of your ass, barely sheathed by the water. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t truly touched you, but your body reacts anyway—muscles twitching, skin hypersensitive, breath stuttering.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says, and this time, his hand grips your jaw, tilting your head just enough to expose your throat. “Let me ask again—why are you here?”

“I—I didn’t know—Kieran said—”

The second his name leaves your lips, the man scoffs.

“Kieran.” His voice dips, a bitter curl at the edge. “Of course.”

The tension in the air shifts—something sharper than suspicion settling between you.

He clicks his tongue, almost amused. His hand leaves your jaw, his breath brushing your neck as he trails his lips along your skin—just barely grazing, barely touching. Then, he parts his lips and nips.

A sharp little bite just beneath your ear.

You gasp, your hips twitching again despite how sensitive you already are.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” He breaths,“Why you’re shaking.”

Another nip—this time lower, right at the curve of your throat, then down along your collarbone. Each bite is purposeful, not deep enough to bruise but firm enough to sting just slightly, a wicked contrast to the warm water sloshing around your body.

His hands slide up, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples before he skirts around to let his mouth follow. His teeth scrape one, then he sucks it into his mouth with slow, deliberate pressure.

You arch into him with a choked whimper, the mix of pain and heat making your thighs tense under the surface.

“Why you’re so fucking wet.”

Heat sears through you, your body betraying you with another twitch. Your lips part to deny it, but he’s already moved.

His tongue circles your nipple again, slow and wet, before he switches to the other. His Evol tugs your arms tighter behind your back, just enough to make your chest arch out toward him—putting everything on display, just how he wants it.

“Look at you,” he purrs, mouth trailing back up to your throat. “Bound, dripping, squirming…All from a little teasing.”

Another sharp bite at the side of your neck makes you moan, your head falling against his shoulder. He moves back to the spot behind you as he repositions your body to not sink further into the tub. He chuckles low in his chest, the water rippling as his hand disappears beneath the surface, his fingers ghosting over your folds—barely a touch, but enough to make you squirm.

One slow stroke.

Another.

You gasp, your knees buckling in the water, but the Evol keeps you suspended, helpless.

“Sensitive,” he notes, fingers teasing your bud. “How convenient.”

You barely register the meaning before his fingers press more firmly against you, slipping between your folds. You jolt. Your Evol-bound wrists twitch, but the restraints hold firm. His thumb brushes your clit, expertly timed with another push—your body jerking as sparks shoot up your spine. You cry out, unable to contain the sound this time, trembling violently in his grip.

“Interesting,” he muses, stroking once. Twice. A slow, torturous pace. “You’re not denying it.”

A humiliated moan leaves your throat, and he chuckles—a deep, quiet sound that makes your stomach twist.

“Too easy,” he murmurs. “Is that all it takes?”

A slow drag of his fingers up and down. Dipping inside, teasing at your entrance but not pushing in anymore. His thumb brushes your clit in the lightest touch, barely a graze, but it still sends a violent tremor through you.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan.

“Don’t be shy now.” His free hand grips your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “I want to hear you.”

He presses his thumb down fully this time, circling once—slow, precise, devastating. You scream, hips jerking into his touch, body desperate for friction.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, dragging his lips against the shell of your ear. “So desperate. Maybe I should just leave you like this. Struggling. Needy.”

The thought makes you whine. Your fingers flex uselessly, your ankles twitching against the unrelenting grip of his Evol.

“Or maybe,” he breathes, “I should push you a little further.”

You barely have time to process the words before he thrusts two fingers inside you.

A cry rips from your throat, your body clenching down instinctively around the sudden stretch.

He hums. “Tight.” Another stroke, deeper this time, his fingers curling just right. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You shake your head desperately. “N-no—”

“Liar.”

A sharp thrust. Another. His pace is still measured, still controlled, but every movement is meant to unravel you, to keep you right at the edge.

And it’s working.

Your thighs tremble, the pressure in your core winding tight, pleasure building so fast it’s nearly unbearable. Your breathing turns ragged, broken moans slipping past your lips.

“You gonna cum already?” he taunts, his fingers pressing deep, thumb rolling slow, teasing circles against your clit. “So quick. Is that all it takes?”

You shake your head again, but your body betrays you—the telltale tension coiling impossibly tight.

“Come for me.” His voice drops to a whisper, dark and commanding.

“Now.”

And you do.

Your body jerks violently against the restraints, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you convulse around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers keep moving, prolonging every aftershock, pushing you straight into overstimulation. Your legs shake, another cry spilling from your lips.

"S-sir, 's too much. Pleas���"

“Too much?” he purrs, amused. “You sure?”

He finally withdraws his fingers—only to drag them up, pressing them against your lips.

“Open.”

You hesitate, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for refusal. You part your lips, your own taste spreading over your tongue as he pushes his fingers in.

“Good girl.”

Then—he shifts.

The water moves as he steps even closer, his Evol releasing your legs just enough for you to feel him lining up against you. You choke back a sob, realization dawning through the pleasure-drunk haze.

“You already took my fingers so well,” he breathes, his cock pressing against your entrance now, thick and hard. “Let’s see how much more you can handle."

When he finally presses himself against you again—thick, hard, ready—you’re already dripping around nothing.

“You’re going to take every inch,” he says lowly. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”

He pushes in slowly, deliberately. You dig your nails into your palms as you struggle to accomodate his girth, each inch more unbearable than the last. You moan, helpless under the flood of sensation.

Your entire body arches—mouth falling open in a silent scream as your walls stretch around him, the sudden intrusion overwhelming. He’s thick, hard, relentless from the first stroke, and your Evol-bound body can do nothing but take it.

Then he begins to move.

“Fuck—” His voice finally drops from its usual cool tone, his grip tightening on your waist. “So fucking tight.” he growls into your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well for someone who wasn’t expecting company.”

Slow at first—just enough for you to feel every ridge, every pulse. Then faster, deeper, brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air again, water splashing around your bodies. Your voice is a blur of moans and gasps, lost in the sound of him fucking you like he owns you. Every thrust is deep, purposeful—like he’s trying to brand his shape inside you.

“That’s it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours. “Take it.”

Your mind is blank, fogged with the blinding edge of overstimulation. Pleasure coils violently in your belly—shame and ecstasy twined too tightly to separate. Your climax crashes over you before you can stop it, hips jerking in the water as you sob through it, Evol still locking you in place.

But he doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts harder, riding out your orgasm only to build another. His hands grip your hips now, fingers digging bruises into your skin as he pistons into you, his pace brutal and fast.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Let go. Come for me again."

Your body locks around him, shaking with every thrust as he fucks you hard, water splashing around both of you as the pace builds again. Each slap of skin sends sparks through your body, and your climax slams into you harder than the first—violent, uncontrollable, teeth letting go of your lip as you scream.

But the man doesn’t let go. Not yet.

His grip is bruising on your waist as he thrusts through your orgasm, chasing his own release, panting now—low, guttural noises ripping from his throat until finally he drives into you one last time and groans, spilling into you, body tight with tension.

Your Evol restraints dissolve, and you slump forward, boneless and shaking. He catches you, pulls you against him, your bodies still half-submerged in the water.

But he’s not done.

You barely register movement until he lifts you—just enough to sit you on the edge of the tub, legs spread, dripping, glistening in the soft steam-lit glow.

“Don’t move.”

His tone is lower now, huskier. Almost reverent.

He kneels in the water between your thighs, hands parting you again, spreading you wide for him. You flinch from the contact, still sensitive—but that only makes him smirk.

“So soft,” he murmurs, fingers stroking your swollen folds before his tongue finally presses flat against you.

Your head drops back with a cry, the sudden rush of wet heat too much, too sharp. He licks slow, dragging the flat of his tongue up and over your clit in lazy, deliberate strokes.

You buck against him, fingers digging into the tiled edge of the tub, helpless to the fire blooming again in your core.

“Still sweet,” he mutters between licks. “Still twitching for me.”

His tongue circles your clit again, over and over, switching between soft teases and sudden hard flicks that make your thighs jerk and close around his head—until his Evol restrains you again, keeping your legs spread wide open for him.

He moans into you at the same time he presses two fingers back inside, tongue working in perfect rhythm, dragging you toward the edge again.

“Come on,” he growls against you. “Give it to me. Again.”

You don’t stand a chance.

You cum again, thighs shaking violently, your cries echoing in the steamy air, body collapsing into shudders as he licks you through every aftershock—until you’re a wrecked, panting mess above him, still twitching from the overstimulation.

Your body gives out the moment it’s over.

Every last drop of strength drains from your limbs—your mission fatigue, the emotional whiplash of being interrogated at gunpoint, the overwhelming pleasure wrung out of you in waves—it all crashes down at once.

You collapse into his arms.

His hands shift under your legs and behind your back, lifting you gently from the tub. You hear water dripping off you both as he carries you across the marble floor, steps unhurried, expression unreadable—but his hold is firm. Protective. Possessive.

He sets you down on a soft surface, kneeling beside you. He begins to wipe you down with a patience that doesn’t quite match his earlier ruthlessness. You flinch once, still sensitive, and his touch instantly softens.

He doesn’t say anything. But his eyes linger on every part of you he touches, watching the way your body reacts—memorizing you all over again, even now.

When he’s done, he scoops you up again, walks you into the bedroom, and lowers you onto his bed.

His sheets smell like him—amber, leather, gunmetal.

You barely register the soft rustle of fabric as he dresses you in one of his button-downs, sleeves swallowing your arms. He tucks the hem under your thighs and smooths it out over your belly. It’s oversized, but warm. Familiar.

He pulls the covers over you and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering a moment.

He then leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click.

In the living room, Sylus towels off, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a loose black shirt. His fingers run through his wet hair before he picks up his phone and dials.

The line rings once.

“What?” Kieran’s voice comes through groggy and irritable. “It’s late, man.”

“You didn’t think to tell me you've already met my Beloved?” Sylus says flatly.

There’s a pause. Then an incredulous laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sylus’ jaw clenches.

“The woman you’ve been letting use the penthouse. The one you’ve been hiding from me.”

“What? I wasn’t hiding—wait.” There’s a beat of silence. “You met her?”

“I did more than just meet her.”

“Sylus,” Kieran says, voice rising with panic. “What did you do?”

Sylus groans and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“What didn’t we do?”

There’s a choked sound on the other end of the line.

“Are you fucking serious?! You better not have hurt her or els—”

“Calm down,” Sylus cuts in, voice cool again. “If anyone’s ass needs to get handed back to them, it's yours—for letting strangers use my property without telling me.”

“She’s not a stranger,” Kieran snaps. “She’s the only one I’ve let use it. You’re lucky it was her and not, I don’t know, someone actually dangerous.”

“Hmph.” A rare hint of amusement glints in Sylus’ tone. “Then you’ve made your one good decision today.”

“Sylus—seriously, just…Be gentle with her, okay?”

“I always am,” he replies smoothly, ending the call before Kieran can protest further.

He returns to the bedroom quietly.

The lights are dim now, your breathing soft and even beneath the covers. He slips in behind you, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

His nose brushes your slightly damp hair. He inhales deeply—like he’s grounding himself in the scent of you, the warmth of you in his bed.

You shift in your sleep, instinctively curling toward him. He smiles against your temple and presses a soft kiss there.

“We’re finally reunited,” he whispers. “My Beloved Sorceress.”

And he holds you tighter—like he never intends to let you go again.

© sylvieisoffline's original work | all rights reserved | translation, plagiarization, and copying is strictly prohibited

[wosospacegirl]

Small blurb of barcelona teen! Reader being jealous of Vicky and Alexia's relationship pls 🙏🏽 it doesn't have to be long just a lil blurb?

Summary: Barça teen! reader is jealous of Vicky's and Alexia's relationship

Word count: 2.5k

Note: three fics in one day, you guys are getting spoiled <3

I didn't proofread this one, so I'm sorry.

..

Y/n stood by the side of the pitch, narrowed eyes and tensed shoulder, as she drank her water and watched La Reina with narrowed eyes.

Alexia had an arm around Vicky, her head resting on the girl’s head as they both laughed. Y/n was a bit far away, but she could read Alexia’s lip and conclude that she said ‘bebè’.

It was a cute nickname, maternal even, and it wouldn't be a problem if it wasn’t the same–among a million others– that Alexia called her.

“Wow, you okay?” Pina asked brows furrowed. “You’re destroying the water bottle.”

“Uh? What?” Y/n turned to Pina and then to herself, she had squeezed the water bottle so hard she had drops of water running down her hand into the pitch. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Why are you mad?” Pina sat down by the pitch and patted the spot of glass next to her.

Y/n accepted the silent invitation and plotted herself down, discarting the water bottle to the side. Although Y/n’s eyes didn’t leave Alexia and Vicky, now Alexia was ticking Vicky.

Immature. Both of them. They should act professionally while on the pitch. And Y/n wasn’t even thinking that because she was a little jealous. Of course not! 

“Is it because you did that pass to Patri wrong?” Pina said beside her. “I've told you! She 's not mad.”

Y/n turned her head. “Sorry, what?”

“Are you unable to hold a conversation today?” Pina asked, rolling her eyes.

“Not feeling like talking, them?” 

“I am actually,” Y/n murmured, she wasn’t very talkative, but seeing Alexia being so affectionate towards Vicky got her grumpy, even more grumpy than she normally was.

“Yep,” Y/n said, lying her body completely down on the grass, Pina following her moments later. 

“Ok,” Pina said. “We can just sit here in silence, petita.”

..

During lunch Alexia sat right next to Vicky, not next to her as she normally did. Y/n didn’t care that much, Alexia could very well eat outside on the street for all Y/n cared, she just didn’t need to fuss over Vicky so much.

“You did very well today,” Alexia said, patting Vicky’s head. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Yeah, you scored good goals too, bebè,” Aitana chimed in. “Your pace is getting better each training, that’s good, not many young–”

Y/n stopped paying attention to what they had to say. During all day, the seniors had been on Vicky because she was getting ready to be a starter on the next Barcelona’s game.

Y/n understand it was a big thing, when she played as a starter she was super nervous and having the team by her side made her feel even better. But, again, did Alexia need to be all… motherly over her? Was that really necessary?

Vicky was 18 years old while Y/n was 15 years old. They had a good enough friendship, Vicky even did a sleepover by Y/n’s house, or well, Alexia and Olga’s house, since she lived with them.

Vicky was sweet and funny, and she deserved to be complimented and recognized by her amazing skills. Y/n just wished Alexia didn’t completely ignore her.

She felt like an older sister whose sibling had just been born. Maybe she was being dramatic, and she was never  dramatic, but the whole situation made her angry and grumpy.

Alexia was like a big sister to her! Olga and Alexia had taken her in when she was 14 to live with them in order for her to play for Barcelona, she needed grown ups to keep an eye on her and Alexia had a spare bedroom. It all worked together.

“Stop playing with your food, nena,” Alexia said from the other side of the table, watching as Y/n passed the fork around her lentils without actually eating them.

Y/n looked up and found Alexia’s eyes, an impatient expression on her face. La reina was very annoying with anything food related, and Y/n just couldn't care less.

“Stop bossing me around,” Y/n bite back, looking back at her plate.

She could feel the tension building up on the table.

Aitana quietly took her plate and left to sit at another table, Vicky did the same, and then Marta. Leaving only Alexia and Y/n at the table

Y/n was normally very chill, she never spoke with anyone teasingly or in a bad manner, she knew better. She wasn’t immature, but something she did acted like a grumpy teen, and today was the day.

“Go on,” Alexia said, putting her knife and fork down and leaning back on her chair. “What’s bothering you?”

“You’re bothering me,” Y/n mumbled. She also wasn’t one to cause a scene or be disrupted, the whole team didn’t need to have their lunch ruined by her.

“And why is that?” 

“You just are,” Y/n said, holding her fork and practically stabbing her lentils before putting it in her mouth.

“You’re in a bad mood all morning and that’s my fault?” Alexia asked, lifting on brow. “You teenagers really–”

“Alexia, let me eat, please,” Y/n said, not wanting to keep the conversation going.

Alexia sighed, taking her plate and getting up from the table. “You can't eat on your own today if you’re going to be rude.”

..

“See you tomorrow, bebè!” Alexia waved at Vicky as the young girl left the changing room.

Now it was only her and Y/n. They hadn’t talked since the lunch incident, and Y/n was very happy with that, but Alexia clearly wasn’t.

“I don’t like when you get this close off, nena,” Alexia sighed, taking off her training kit and putting on a normal shirt. “We’ve talked about this so many times, me and Olga even put on therapy!”

Y/n had a small problem with talking about her feelings. When she first moved in with Alexia, she was quiet for a whole two weeks, she just–didn’t talk. It wasn’t like she was scared.

She wanted to live with Alexia, but everything was very sudden, so she just kept to herself.

There was one incident where she needed tampons, and Alexia was out in Madrid for a talk show, and Y/n couldn’t seem to talk to Olga about it. Again, Y/n wasn’t scared. She just didn’t like changes, and it took her some time to get to know and feel comfortable around people.

Alexia did everything she could to make Y/n warm up, and after a few weeks, it worked! But after she told Y/n Olga was moving in, it all went to stage one.

Y/n didn’t talk to Olga, not a single word.

And that’s when she started therapy. Y/n didn't want to, but Alexia dragged her. After a few sessions Y/n realized therapy was fun, they played cards and just talked.

Right now Y/n felt a bit like that 14 year old who had just moved in, lots of feeling on her chest, but little words and little confidence to express them.

She loved Olga and Alexia, especially Alexia, who was like a big sister to her. Y/n had a hard time showing it to Alexia at times, but she hoped Alexia knew it.  

Y/n also hoped that Alexia would just find out she was jealous because Y/n didn’t want to be the one to admit it.

“Come on, talk to me, cariño,” Alesia tried to get the girl to talk. “I saw you during training earlier, you looked angry, did something happen?”

Alexia tugged Y/n gently, to get her to sit by her side.

“I-I’m…” Y/n tried, it was hard for her, talking about her feelings, but Alexia was looking at her like she had all the time in the world, so she breathed deeply and tried again. 

“I don’t like how you treat Vicky.” Y/n said each word slowly as she stared at everything but Alexia, feeling embarrassed. 

Ew, feelings.

“No, you treat her well, very well,” Y/n mumbled, looking at the floor and feeling Alexia patting her back, something she did whenever they were having a serious talk. “I just don’t think you need to be, like… tickling her or calling her bebè,” Y/n said the last part so quietly that Alexia barely understood it.

“What do you mean by that? Don’t you think I treat her well?” Alexia looked at her, confused.

Alexia wasn’t the most sociable person around, but she tried to be at least welcoming to the younger ones on the team.

Silence hung between them.

“Nena,” Alexia said. “Are you…jealous?” There was no teasing in her voice, just purely confusion.

Y/n rolled her eyes. Great, that's exactly where she didn’t want them to be. She just wanted Alexia to know she was jealous, she didn’t want to have a big talk around it.

“It’s not jealousy, Alexia,” Y/n said grumply, looking at the girl, a slight flush on her cheeks. “I just don’t see why would you be playing around when we have a big game tomorrow, we should be focu–”

“Cariño, si us plau,” [please] Alexia said, a smile forming on her lips. “You don’t need to be jealous. You don’t even like when I call you bebè or when I tickle you!”

Y/n got up from the bench and stood in front of Alexia, crossing her arms.

“And? That doesn’t mean you have to do with other people,” Y/n murmured. “It’s not jealousy, it's just…”

“You don’t like that I treat Vicky the same way I treat you?” Alexia guessed.

“Yes!” Y/n said, throwing her arm in the air. It took her long enough.

“That's jealousy, cariño, the definition of jealousy is feeling like someone or something only belongs to them,” Alexia said, now with a slight teasing tone. “You feel like I shouldn't treat others with the same attention I treat you.”

Y/n listened to Alexia and what her definition of jealousy was. If she had any doubts before, she had none now. She was jealous, and now, more embarrassed than ever.

“Let’s just forget I ever said anything,” Y//n said, wanting to go into her and not leave anymore. 

How did people have these conversations about feelings all the time? Y/n felt like she was hit by a truck!

“No, stay here, It’s okay,” Alexia said, holding Y/n’s wrists gently. “Sometimes I feel jealous of you and Olga, did you know that?”

Y/n looked at her, narrowed eyes.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better about this whole thing,” Y/n said suspiciously.

Alexia laughed at Y/n. Sometimes Y/n was dramatic without even trying to be.

“Of course not, boba,”[silly] Alexia said. “I really do, especially a few months after Olga moved in and you warmed up to her, I was always the one you came for advice or just to talk, but then it all changed and Olag became your ‘go to person’.”

Y/n was silent, Alexia was kind of right, she really did that.

“Well, Olga is very talkative,” Y/n said. “Better than both of us together, really.”

“And that’s why she gets along so well with us, nena,” Alexia said, getting up from the bench as she took hers and Y/n’s sport bag. “She has a soft spot for socially awkward footballers.”

“You're doing that again, stop it,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes as she followed Alexia through Barcelona's hallways, heading to the car park.

“Doing what?” Alexia asked, confused.

“Being in love, lower it down in front of the minor here, please.” Y/n got into the passenger seat and Alexia drove away.

The song on the radio was the only sound on the car for a good 15 minutes.

“Do you want me to stop calling Vicky bebè?” Alexia asked, not looking at Y/n, keeping her focus on the car.

Y/n was silent, looking at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. She knew what the right answer would be: ‘No, you can keep calling her that, it’s no problem, I’ll just work on it in therapy’.

But Y/n allowed herself to be petty.

“You can just, like, call her Vicky,” Y/n said, trying to sound casual. “Like the rest of us do.”

“Alright,” Alexia chuckled. “I’ll only call you bebè now.”

“Please, do not,” Y/n groaned. “That’s embarrassing.

“Ets la meva bebè" Alexia said teasingly. “Meus i de l'Olga.” [You're my baby, my and Olga's baby]

Alexia spent the whole drive calling Y/n bebè, so Y/n thought she deserved some revenge on that and on being all fussy over Vicky.

..

When they got home, Y/n went straight to the living room, where she knew Olga would be. The woman was lying down on the sofa wearing pajamas, a soft blanket over her as she watched television.

Y/n got closer to Olha and, without saying a word, laid her head on Olga’s lap.

“Nena, how are you?” Olga asked, turning her whole attention to Y/n, her hands going straight to the girl’s scalp, massaging it. “Bad day?”

Y/n mumbled something inaudible against the blanket.

“What was that, cariño?” Olga asked again, more softly now.

Y/n, without taking her head from Olga’s lap, pointed at the arched door by the corner of her room, where she knew Alexia was.

Olga quickly stared at Alexia accusingly, narrowing her eyes. "What did you do to my niña?"

The smile on her face dropped quickly.

"Me? I didn't do anything! She was grumpy all day, but then she was fine again during our drive back home!” Alexia defended herself. “She’s just being dramatic right now because she knows you’ll fall for it, Olguita!”

Alexia had a soft expression on her face, it meant the world when she saw Y/n and Olga being cute and close together, but now it seemed like they were both siding up against her. 

Olga rolled her eyes at Alexia. “Don’t talk to nenã like that when she’s sad, Alexia!.”

Olga turned her attention to Yn once again. "Cariño, don't be sad. Whatever Alexia did, I just know she was in the wrong and I’ll make sure she apologizes, oi?"

"Olguita?! I did nothing!" Alexia said, now impatient. “We just had a heart-to-heart conversation! She's just trying to get back at me for calling Vicky bebè!”

"What do you think about us watching a film in your room? Huh?" Olga suggested, compelled to ignore Alexia’s existence. "Would that make you feel better?"

"That'll be good, Olga," Y/n agreed, smiling mischievously at Alexia. "Can it be just the two of us? Please?" Y/n asked Olga, big puppy eyes on her face.

"Of course, cariño!" Olga agreed, getting up from the sofa and walking straight through Alexia, not even giving the player a kiss!

When Y/n walked past Alexia, she grabbed the youngest by her arm. "What are you doing, malcriada?"

"It's not nice, is it? Being ignored?" Yn said sarcastically, lifting her eyebrows. “And don’t call me malcriada, you’re raising me.”

Alexia held the bridge of her nose. “And I’m clearly failing it, since you’re acting like a four year old,”

Yn shrugged, and passed through Alexia and went after Olga.

It looked like Alexia was watching some telenovelas alone.

..

Notes: Please like, reblog and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Let me know if you guys like this little universe!

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[carnalcrows]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT - CHEONGSAN

pairing: lee cheong-san x ftm reader

synopsis: The real infection here is horniness pt.2

content warnings: 18+, public sex, zombies, very little angst at the start, cheong-san eats reader out.

word count: 1.4k

The rooftop was colder than you expected. Maybe it was the breeze, maybe it was the fear, or maybe it was just the fact that you were watching Lee Cheong-san’s heart get ripped out of his chest without a single zombie in sight.

“I’m sorry, Cheong-san,” On-jo said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t need to hear more. The way his shoulders tensed, the barely-there quiver in his breath—it was obvious.

You weren’t jealous. You had never been jealous. You were just angry. Angry because Cheong-san had spent so much time putting On-jo first, saving her, loving her, and now here he was, getting nothing back.

On-jo turned away like that was the end of it.

Cheong-san didn’t move.

"Cheong-san," you called, just loud enough for him to hear. His head lifted slightly, his expression guarded.

He didn’t need to say anything. You just nodded toward the far side of the rooftop, away from prying eyes. He hesitated before following you.

"You good?" you asked once the two of you were alone.

Cheong-san scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Do I look good?"

You looked him over. He looked wrecked—not just from the apocalypse, but from that rejection. His eyes were unfocused, his jaw clenched tight like he was fighting himself just to keep standing.

"No," you admitted. "You look like shit."

"Great. Thanks."

You shrugged. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. But also, On-jo doesn't know what the hell she's missing."

Cheong-san exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don’t need a pep talk, okay? Just—" He sighed. "I need to get out of my own head."

You knew what he meant.

"You can take it out on me," you murmured.

His gaze snapped to yours.

You took a step closer, testing the waters. "You're all wound up, and it's not like we have much time left anyway." You tilted your head, watching the way his lips parted slightly at your words. "Might as well do something that feels good."

A pause.

Then, something in Cheong-san snapped.

His mouth crashed against yours, all heat and frustration. It was messy, uncoordinated, desperate—like he needed to drown out everything else with you. His hands grabbed at your hoodie, pulling you in until you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

You let him take what he needed, fingers threading through his hair, tugging slightly just to hear him gasp against your lips. He pushed you back until your spine hit the cold rooftop railing, his hands bracing against it on either side of you.

"Tell me to stop," he muttered, his breath hot against your lips.

You grinned, tilting your chin up. "Why would I do that?"

A low curse left his mouth before he kissed you again, deeper this time. It was filthy—the way his tongue slid against yours, the way his hands curled into the fabric of your clothes like he needed to ground himself with you.

Cheong-san’s mouth was hot against your skin, his lips trailing downward with a purpose you didn’t quite understand yet. Your hands stayed tangled in his hair, gripping slightly as he pressed kisses lower, across your stomach, making your breath hitch.

Then he knelt, hands sliding to your thighs, parting them with slow, deliberate pressure. You felt the shift in the air, the way his breath ghosted over you, how focused he was.

Your fingers twitched in his hair. "Cheong-san, what are you—?"

A sharp gasp cut off your words as his mouth met your folds.

It was warm. Soft. His tongue flicked out, slow and testing, like he was figuring out exactly what made you react. And, oh, you reacted. Your hips jerked slightly, unprepared for the sensation, a sharp inhale escaping your lips.

Cheong-san huffed a laugh against you, his grip tightening to hold you still. "Relax," he murmured, voice thick, amused. "Trust me."

Trust? That was hard when your heart was slamming against your ribs, your body alight with something you’d never felt before. You were trying to process—trying to understand—but then he did it again, this time with more pressure, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.

A whimper slipped out before you could stop it.

Cheong-san groaned, low and satisfied, like that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He adjusted his grip, fingers digging into your thighs as he really started working—his tongue tracing slow, teasing patterns against your clit, his lips pressing just right. The wet heat of his mouth sent a shock through every inch of you, and you barely managed to stifle the desperate sound bubbling up.

Your head fell back, fingers clenching in his hair, legs threatening to close around his head from the sheer intensity of it. But Cheong-san held you firm, his movements becoming more precise, more deliberate. Like he was discovering a whole new way to ruin you.

"You’re—" Your voice broke off into a breathy gasp as he sucked lightly, sending sparks straight up your spine. "Cheong-san, what—fuck—"

Another low groan from him, this time more needy, like he was getting just as much out of this as you were. The vibrations made your whole body jolt.

Your thighs trembled against his hold, heat coiling tighter and tighter inside you, something building fast. Your breath came in short, shaky gasps, body arching into him despite yourself.

Cheong-san felt it, heard it, and leaned into it—his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, mouth dragging across every sensitive inch of you until—

Everything snapped.

Your body tensed, a sharp cry slipping past your lips before you could stop it. The heat, the pressure, and the overwhelming pleasure all crashed over you at once, leaving your mind blank, and your body shaking.

Cheong-san didn’t stop. He eased you through it, his hands steady on your thighs, his tongue still working on your cunt—gentler now, soothing, until the aftershocks had passed and you were nothing but a wrecked mess beneath him.

Only then did he pull back, his lips swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you with something bordering on starved. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing heavily.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his voice hoarse, wrecked.

Your chest was still heaving, your limbs feeling boneless as you tried to process what the fuck just happened. You met his gaze, dazed, completely spent.

"...Jesus Christ, Cheong-san."

A slow, cocky grin spread across his face, and before you could fully catch your breath, he was already moving back up, pressing his lips to yours, pulling you back into him like he was far from finished.

You barely registered the sound of something scraping against the building’s edge.

Then, a guttural voice cut through the haze.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You and Cheong-san jolted apart just in time to see Yoon Gwi-nam’s face—half-bloodied, half-deranged—peeking over the ledge as he scaled the school building.

He stared at you both like he had just walked in on his own parents.

A strangled, horrified noise left his mouth, and in his sheer disgust, he lost his grip.

The last thing you saw was his expression twisting in absolute horror before he plummeted back down.

Silence.

"...Did you just kill him by eating me out?"

He blinked, looking back at you. His lips were swollen, his hair was still a mess from your fingers, and he was clearly still too dazed to function properly. "I—" He exhaled. "I think I did."

That was it. You lost it.

You doubled over, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Holy shit. Holy shit."

Cheong-san ran a hand down his face, half in disbelief, half in secondhand embarrassment. "Goddammit," he muttered. "Gwi-nam of all people had to see that? If he survives this fall, he's gonna be even more insufferable."

You wiped a tear from your eye, finally managing to catch your breath. "If he survives, I feel like he’s gonna need therapy more than revenge."

Cheong-san groaned, leaning back against the railing. "I can't believe my first time got witnessed by that greasy bastard."

You grinned, reaching up to fix his ruffled hair. "Hey, at least it was memorable."

"Too memorable," he muttered.

Before you could respond, a voice rang out from behind you.

"Cheong-san?"

You both froze.

Slowly—painfully slowly—you turned your head.

Standing in the doorway, eyes wide and horrified, were Cheong-san’s best friend, Lee Su-hyeok, and the absolute last person you wanted to be here right now—Nam On-jo.

Your pants were still crumpled around the floor, your lower half free from any cover.

Oh, shit.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[kenobi-general]

i'm right here - E.M.

Summary: You've been friends with Eddie ever since middle school. You come back to Hawkins after spending a few years living with your parents in Texas, but you're met with the news that he's dating Chrissy- the one who would always say bad things about him. You like each other, but neither knows about each other's feelings.

Ps: You're Steve Harrington's sister and your nickname is Harrington/shortie.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: None for now!

Word count: 7k

⋆˚✿˖°

You flushed the toilet so the water running on the shower would get hotter while Steve was in there. "Come on, Steve. Hurry the fuck up, you're not meeting the Queen of England!" You whined.

"You're so gonna pay for that later!" He yelled as he threatened you.

Moments after his shower, Steve showed up on the staircase, fixing up his damp hair with a towel. "I think you should know Eddie is seeing Chrissy Cunningham. I know you guys haven't seen each other in almost like three years”.

He couldn’t read your expression, though he knew you had a thing for your friend. “Keep your panties on, groupie. I know you have a crush on him" He mocked you without noticing you were almost choking on your own spit.

"First, don't ever say that nasty thing again. And second, I don't have a crush on him".

"Yeah, the way you hide it is so nonchalant" Steve satirized, laughing at the way you tried to throw a cushion at him.

"If you don't shut up and hurry up, I'll let the entire school know you use Farrah Fawcet's hair spray" Steve almost choked on his cereal and you snorted.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

You and Eddie were good friends before you moved out to Texas. It's not like you were best friends, but you were pretty close. You would always go to your hideout together to smoke weed and then you'd go to his house to see him play guitar.

It kinda hit you like a truck to know he was seeing the one girl who had always been talking shit about him and mocking him at school and he didn't even know that. Point being, if he actually did know, then he was just being completely oblivious.

You had no idea how you'd react when seeing him with Chrissy, but nothing prepared you for the moment you got inside the school. His hair was longer, he was skinny and he had a lot more rings than you remembered. You couldn't shake the feeling of seeing him laughing close to her, while she was wearing her cheerleader outfit. This might be the weirdest shit you've seen, the outcast going out with the most popular girl in school, if not the city.

You stood there for a good two minutes without saying anything, while Steve kept calling you out of your daydreaming. "Jesus, can you act like you're not going to faint?".

You grit your teeth and elbow your brother on the ribs. “Shut the fuck up”.

Steve pulls you by your arm and makes a beeline to his locker. You had to be in your class in about 10 minutes, but when Eddie saw you in the distance, he froze. He kept staring at you while Chrissy poked him in the chest, calling his name out. You didn't see he was looking until you realized he was coming towards you.

"Oh my God, the better Harrington!" He said out loud and your brother let out a sarcastic laugh. Eddie was smiling widely, opening his arms. He reached you in a tight grip, his arms wrapped around your neck.

"Eddie!" You gave him a big smile, even though he didn't see it.

He smelled just like you remembered, tobacco and a cheap cologne. Obviously not the same one anymore, but it still smelled too good. His curls were brushing your face, tickling your nose.

You held him by his skinny waist and could barely breathe. This was the closest you've been to him in a million years. "It's such a surprise to see you. Your brother didn't tell me you would come!".

"Yeah, she came back from Texas. Ditched our parents to come and live with her favorite family member" He joked and Eddie laughed.

"No way you came back to Hawkins" He let go of you, still looking surprised.

Your breath hitched your throat at the way he looked at you as you nodded. It seemed like Eddie couldn’t believe you were standing right there in front of him. He could never think you would come back to that hell hole and the thought of seeing you every day made his heart race for some reason. Steve was completely aware of your feelings, now you couldn't hide you did have a crush on him.

"I didn't want to stay with our parents forever. I wanted to be more independent, you know. And then Steve and I talked, he agreed on having me over" You started rambling, your hands were shaking and you almost stumbled over your words.

Steve noticed the way you were practically stressing and hovered over your shoulder. "You mean I was obliged to have you over" He taunted.

"Good to see you're back, shortie" You forgot how much you loved when he called you like that.

Eddie was really surprised to see you there. Happy, even. For a moment he forgot about Chrissy, turning over to call her out. Oh, God. You looked over your brother and he squinted.

"You remember Chrissy? You guys were in plays together, right?" He reached over her hand, you watched her smile and snuggle with him.

Like it's hard to not remember her.

"Sure! How have you been?" You played cool. Deep inside you wanted to smash her head against the lockers and snap at her for being such a bitch. And hypocritical.

You and Eddie didn't talk too much after that, you had to get to your locker before going to class. He made sure you'd meet during lunch, but you don't think you had the guts to be there. Because Chrissy would be there.

The entire time Steve was watching over you while you were at their table. Good thing you at least met his friends he was always talking about. You got along really well with Robin, she was really nice. You had a lot of fun on the first day, not just because of them. But because you were able to make friends from your classes, which you were afraid wouldn't happen.

After school, your brother gave you a ride back home before he went to work. During the entire time, you were complaining about Chrissy and Steve was trying to make you feel conformed. It was actually hard for him to see how much you liked Eddie and how much you hated her.

Even though you were always mocking each other, he loved you unconditionally.

"God, what a fucking bitch. You know her better than me now, right? You remember how much she would talk shit about him? Obviously not right at his face, but people knew. I knew!" You snapped.

"Look, I know. Maybe she's changed a bit, I don't see her doing what she used to do. But he likes her" He tried being reasonable.

"Of course he likes her. She's pretty, she's the head cheerleader. She's a manipulative twat" Your brother snorted at your words.

"I get that it would bother you. It does seem hypocritical, but people change. Sometimes it's hard to understand her motivations, maybe she just sees something different in him" You frowned at Steve.

"I don't buy that".

"Either way, we're going to a haunted house tomorrow after my shift. He's coming too. I don't know about her" He said, pulling by the driveway.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" You retorted. It wasn't enough for you to know he was seeing the most two-faced person at school besides Jason. You had to go out with her as well.

Later that night, you had been thinking about a way of spending time with your brother and his friends without being catastrophically awkward near Eddie. And worse, near him and Chrissy. You just wish you could punch the life out of her pretty face, but you couldn't.

With Halloween being closer, the city was already decorated with adornments and the stores have set a good amount of Halloween displays. You and Steve were yet to decorate his house, but every other neighbor had already done that.

You were finishing getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror, nervously thinking about Eddie. God, you don't remember the last time you acted so foolish over a crush like that, it was honestly terrifying as hell.

But then again, what's the reason you're being like that if he's one of your closest friends? And also, it doesn't matter how you look because Chrissy is seeing him anyway. You huffed, walking downstairs to wait for Steve, who was almost late, again.

"Steve, get your ugly face right here, so we can use you to scare the kids" You shouted, taunting your brother, so he would hurry up.

He took about two minutes to show up. His hair perfectly sat on his head, like always. He looked like he was about to go to a Fashion Week event.

"You know it's dark in there, right? No one's going to see you".

"Fuck you, sis. I have a date afterwards, but that's none of your business" He replied.

There was a good amount of people already waiting in line when you got there. You saw Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie. It was the first time you were seeing him out of school, but it didn't feel like it was the same thing. You just had no idea why.

"You forgot your baseball bat, Harrington" The metalhead implied, snorting. Steve let out a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm not scared of it, dumbass. You should be the one scared of the spiders" Your brother brought it up. And then you remembered it like it was yesterday.

You were in your basement placing the Halloween decoration for your "private" party, there were a lot of spiders, cockroaches and bats spread all over the wall. But the spiders were too realistic, and before he even got in the room, you dropped one of them on his head and he started screaming.

It made you laugh so hard you almost peed yourself. You didn't know he was scared of spiders at the time, and it was too amusing for you. For him, it was terrifying, honestly. You immediately started laughing at the memory, and he stared at you.

"Oh, God. I remember that, like it was yesterday. You were so scared of the spider decoration, I've never seen you walk up the stairs so fast" You were still laughing. He chuckled at the thought, pushing your shoulder slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. But big spiders are crazy shit" He was still chuckling. Steve looked from you to his friend, tilting his head. You still were good friends, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

It was a big haunted house. They really put effort into the ornament, the features included demons, ghosts, skeletons, zombies, monsters, possessed people, witches, serial killers, and slashers. For the most part of it, it was just walking through the hallways without a jump scare, but that was the fun was about.

You were walking with Nancy and Robin, too close to not be apart from each other. But one of the zombies screamed so loud next to you that Robin's reflection was to just run out of that hallway. You were still laughing with Nancy at your friend's reaction.

Then you told her to reach for the girl while you stayed behind. You liked seeing the details of it, how they managed to make an entire house so well decorated. The only creepy thing was a possessed face hanging out of a frame, but it wasn't moving.

You were walking backwards, still staring at the details, when you bumped your back into something and immediately yelled. Your heart was racing like crazy. You turn around and see Eddie there.

"Holy shit, I didn't see you there!" He was placing a hand over his chest. He was probably looking for the others. "Jesus H. Christ, I almost had a stroke".

"Just you? I thought I was having a heart attack" You slapped him on his forearm and he laughed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I lost one of my rings" He replied, and you were about to speak, but he cut you off. "Before you say that's not important, it's my favorite one".

You chuckled, obviously. You thought it was cute, him having a favorite ring when they were all weird alike. But he was a weirdo as well. In a good way.

"I didn't say anything" You defended yourself. "I think it's probably going to be really hard to look for it here. It's too dark”.

He crouched down, looking for the accessory in every possible corner of the place. If only there was a flashlight in there.

"Who even wants a ring like that?" You joked, you knew he was going to flip at you for talking shit about a ring. But that was the fun about it.

"Shut up and help me, shortie. You're still a little evil as I remember" He retorted and you snorted. You would always be one to mock him and playfully satirize his tastes, even though you never judged him for not liking the things he liked.

You and Eddie spent a good amount of time looking for that ring. You looked behind the decoration, under it, in every single corner of the place. You even asked the masked people, the zombies, witches and the other staff for his accessory and didn't find it.

"Remember when we went to that fair when we were, like, 12? You lost your earrings and couldn't stop crying" He started, making his way back to the second floor.

You chuckled. They were your favorite, because Steve got them for you from a bag of chips, and you thought it was so cute you always wore them.

"I only stopped crying when he promised me he would get me a new pair. But he never did and eventually I forgot about it".

"You almost made us look everywhere. It was impossible, and we had to. You said you were going to pull our hair out of our scalp if we didn't help" Eddie was laughing at the memory.

"Are you saying that if we don't find it, you're going to cry and pull my hair out?". He snorted.

"No, but I am going to be sad. I bought it like, a few years ago when I went to Ohio". Really, he sounds too cute talking about a ring.

It hit you that you were thinking it was cute only because you thought he was cute. Your brother and the others were probably looking for you right now. And it didn't take longer for one of them to find you there. Two weirdos looking behind the decorations.

After a moment of silence, you spoke. "So, how are things with Chrissy?". You were interested in his relationship with her, you just wanted to know about how far it would go.

"We've only been going out for a couple of months. She's really nice. Kinda weird to think of it, she's still a cheerleader, and I'm the outcast".

"Yeah, real nice" You satirize, but he doesn't catch it. "I'm really happy for you. Not so much for her".

He was about to ask what you meant, but someone showed up behind you.

"As much as I would like to stay over the entire night, can we just leave?" Robin asked as she saw you both weirdly looking at the ornaments.

"He lost one of his rings and he's going to cry if he doesn't find it" You mock.

"Oh, I think Steve found it right after you dropped it".

Indeed, your brother found his ring and kept it in his pocket. Turns out, the night out was fun, despite your conversation with Eddie. You know you shouldn't have said too much, but he was probably going to forget about it anyway.

You wanted him to be happy, you really did. But every time you remember what Chrissy did and how much shit she used to talk about him, you can't help but be bitter about it.

You spent the weekend at home and had a sleepover at Robin's with Nancy. You had a really great time getting to know them better, listening to their stories about school and other things about Hawkins.

It was a good thing to get distracted and not think too much about Eddie and his new girlfriend. For all you know, he's been having a great time with her. 

Steve asked you to spend more time with him and the others at their table during lunch. You had no problem with that, because you weren’t that close to the other girls from your classes yet, and it would be too awkward for you. Nonsense. It was way more awkward now, sitting next to Robin and Jonathan, while your brother was sitting right in front of you with Nancy on one side, and Eddie - with her. 

You guys were talking about the Halloween party someone you didn’t know was going to throw the following weekend. You were all figuring out what to wear, and you could hear Robin rambling about wanting to rent a camo costume. Everyone laughed when you said Steve should probably wear his former sailor Scoops Ahoy uniform as he flipped you a finger. 

Your brother reminded everyone at the table the times you both would go outside for trick or treating and would come back with heavy buckets of candy, because he would steal them from the other kids. Steve also brought up the one time Eddie was following along with you two, but started wheezing because his asthma was bad. 

“Oh, no. Poor Eddie” Chrissy pouted, holding his chin before leaving a peck on his cheek. He mirrored her playfully, and you scrunched your nose. “I didn’t know you were asthmatic”.

“Of course you didn’t” Your words slipped from your mouth faster than your brain could think of it and Steve kicked you on the shin under the table. 

Chrissy flipped her head to look at you, her head almost tilted, like she didn’t get what you said. Eddie didn’t notice what you said, either. 

Once they were back to talking about the Halloween party, you couldn’t stop watching them both being too cheesy next to each other. It started annoying you, at some point. Jonathan was probably bothered by it too, but he’s one that wouldn’t even kiss in front of people anyway. 

After class, you were heading to the library to work on a new project. Halfway through your walk, Eddie reached over your shoulder. He pulled you by his hand. He had just finished smoking a cigarette, from the looks of it. 

“Hey, how’s school been?” He wrapped your shoulder around one of his arms, walking side to side. 

“So far, so good. It’s different from Texas but, still, it’s school” You shrugged. There wasn’t much of a difference, really. “How have you been during these few years?”

“Ah, nothing much. Been helping uncle Wayne, selling goodies for the kids and practicing with my band. Which, by the way, you should see us some time”. 

“I definitely will. I still remember you wanted your future band to be called Corroded Coffin” You chuckled. 

You found a table near the entrance and sat down, while Eddie followed you doing the same, resting one of his arms on the chair. 

“Yep, that’s the name” You couldn’t point out the effect his smile actually had over you. Maybe this is one of the features she saw in him. 

“I’m hopeful the band is going to work out, you know. You’ve always loved playing”. And you loved watching your friend play guitar, not just because he looked so sexy doing it. But because he was a really good player. 

Eddie nodded, resting his head against your shoulder while you tried to remember what you were about to do at the library. 

“Doesn’t it bother Chrissy that you’re friends with girls?” You know this is dangerous territory. Not for him, but for you. Because you know you might end up talking more than you should. 

He shook his head. That is some twisted information for you to gather. Maybe it’s because she thinks no one would actually be in love with him.

You were in seventh grade, you were friends with Chrissy and other girls at the time. Hawkins always had a group of cheerleaders, and their captains were always the same. Too pretty, too skinny and too bitchy. God, she was such a bitch. 

You honestly hated that, so you never really went for it. But during classes and sleepovers with the other girls, you were slowly finding out the blonde, sweet-smiling girl was only sweet to people she chose to be. You had no idea if she ever talked shit about you, but that doesn’t seem like it. 

Either way, you knew, and you still remember how she would talk about your brother, even if she said she was kidding. Steve is the hottest guy ever, but he’s such a fucking himbo. And then she would look at you and say “Steve is a great guy, I’m just kidding”. Yeah… right. Then, you always overheard her saying how creepy and lunatic Eddie was. How he could never be able to pick up a girl, because he wasn’t attractive at all. You never did anything, because you didn’t want to start a fight. 

You didn’t want to hurt him, telling him the truth. Why would you say it now? It would probably hurt him more. One, because you kept it from him. And two, he might not even want to believe you after four years. Everything was already fucked up, Steve knew how much you liked Eddie and how much you cared about him. But it was hard to tell him that. Steve never said anything either, because Eddie was closer to you, not him. He didn’t want to overstep your friendship. 

You only realized the metalhead was talking to you when he slightly tapped his palm over your forehead. “Fucking trapped over there? I’ve been talking to you like a dork over here”. 

Your smile almost faltered, lowering your head. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m still thinking about that, it’s weird dating her, right?”. 

“A little, but we like each other”. He was grinning too hard. “She’s really nice, by the way. I was wondering if you and the girls could include her in your hanging outs?”.

God, how are you gonna say no to him? Fuck no, you couldn’t. But you will have to, don’t you? If you say no, he’s gonna be upset. 

“Uh- I can ask Robin and Nance about that, see what they think?” You were almost spilling everything out to him, just so you could get rid of that puppy eyed face he was pulling. 

“Really? Sounds good, shortie!” He gave you a tight hug before leaving you alone. 

And then, you threw your notebook on the table and leaned your arms against it, holding your head in your hands. How long until you consider going back to fucking Texas already?

-

You would spend most of the days trying to distract yourself from thinking about Eddie and his relationship with Chrissy. It was starting to become obsessive and Steve was already too annoyed to hear you talking about his friend over and over. He would tell you to get over it, but it was really impossible to forget how much shit she used to talk about your friend. Maybe it's the fact that you decided to hide it from him, maybe it's because you don't wanna ruin it for him seeing how happy he is.

Steve was about to go on a double date bowling with Robin and Vicky when he looked over the living room, watching as you flipped over the channels looking for something to watch. Everything seemed boring because your head was way too far from this planet. He stepped in front of the TV as he placed his hands over his waist and looked at you. You raise your head and stare back at him with a frown.

"Why are you looking at me like that, freak?" You pushed him off and sat back on the couch, still frantically pushing the buttons on the remote.

"I'm going on a double date and you look like shit. I thought maybe you'd like to go" You scoffed at his words, shaking your head.

"And be the fifth wheel? No, thanks"

Why would you even want to be there with two couples, while watching them having fun? You're not in the mood to get out of the house and interact.

Steve didn't even think about insisting, he fumbled for his car keys over the pocket of his jeans and left.

You huffed. Maybe it wasn't so bad to go with them and just play a little, right? What if you were supposed to be doing that instead of feeling sorry for Eddie? Who, by the way, must be having a lot of fun with her right now. Rolling your eyes, you get up from the couch and go to your bedroom looking for something to wear. You didn't want to actually dress up like you usually do, so you put on your favorite Nike and grab a denim jacket before leaving the house.

The sad thing about deciding to go out is that you'd have to walk down the streets. For a moment you didn't realize it, but then it came to your mind that you didn't know where the hell the bowling place was. As you stopped in your tracks in the middle of your walk, you laughed sarcastically. How can you be so dumb? The only other choice you had was to head over to the closest gas station and find a phone.

You tried Nancy's, but she was with Jonathan. Dustin and the other kids were too young to drive and you weren't actually friends with anyone else. The only other choice was probably unavailable either, but you had to try. You didn't want to walk back home and it wasn't exactly that safe to be alone in the streets when it's dark.

You heard the other line ringing too many times. Of course it's just ringing. You feel like a stupid bitch for calling. But only until the line goes on.

"Hello?" It's him, you feel yourself freezing in place and suddenly your throat goes dry.

It felt like you stood there holding the phone for several minutes before you could speak up. You heard his voice say "hello" about three times.

"If this is you, Henderson, I'm going to freaking punch you at school! Stop calling me, you punk" He said with a sigh and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you'd be getting calls from girls and even from your girlfriend. But never from Dustin" You feel your heart racing against your chest and it's ridiculous to notice how dumb it is to feel like that.

"Huh? Who is it?"

You laugh again and bite your lower lip playfully. "If you guess, I'll give you a chocolate yoohoo".

Eddie snorts and laughs.

"Hey, shortie. What do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"I'll tell you, but if you laugh I'll chop off a chunk of your hair!" You warn him as you play with the phone wire.

"You wouldn't! I promise I won't laugh, just tell me"

"I was going to the bowling place, but it turns out I don't know the address. Stevie is on a double date with Robin and my only option was Nancy" It wasn't entirely true, you really wanted to call him first. But you didn't want to be desperate because of him.

"Ouch" He muses "So I wasn't an option?"

"No- It's not... I thought you were out with Chrissy so I didn't want to bother you" Saying it out loud sounds a lot more stupid than it was inside your head.

This is actually pretty ridiculous and so humiliating.

"You never bother me, shortie. And Chris is out with her girl friends" Chris. Ugh, this is so weird. "So, where the hell are you so I can pick you up?"

He arrived at the gas station in less than ten minutes. Eddie parked his van and got off the vehicle just so he could open the passenger door for you. This is so sweet I could just punch his face, you thought. 

He sat next to you and turned the radio back on, a song from Metallica started playing at a low volume and you scrunched up your eyebrows. This is something you never witnessed, he was always playing music too loud back then.

"What happened to the loud music?" You ask as you buckle yourself and Eddie starts the car.

"Uh, force of habit" He laughs through his nose. "Chrissy usually wants to turn it down so I just leave it. I kinda got used to it"

She what? God, she's such a bitch.

You try not to show off your disappointment, so you act like it's okay. "So it doesn't bother you that she doesn't want your radio to be loud?"

"You'd be surprised she doesn't want to change the tapes all the time" He says it with a smile on his face, but it bothers you on such a high level.

You trip over your words a few times. You're really bad at disguising your actions. For a bitch, she's quite nice to him. Maybe she's changed.

"Wow, she really loves you" Your words come out sarcastically but he doesn't notice it and agrees with you.

"Yeah, I think she does. Sometimes it's hard to believe it" Everything about this is so wrong and you can't help but feel bad for him. You're really trying to be happy.

Before Eddie pulls up by the bowling parking lot, he makes sure he stays and pairs up with you so you can all play. You like the idea, and your stomach fills in with butterflies and he looks at you and says you and he are the best "couple".

Steve looks at you weird when you show up with Eddie, and gives you a sided eye when he greets his friend. You just shrug, letting him know you'll explain it later. Robin, on the other hand, seems quite happy to see him there. They became really close after everything that happened after Vecna, and how he's grateful for them for taking care of him when he almost died. You only knew the story, you could see some fading scars over his face, just like the ones Steve has.

"Alright, shortie. You take the lighter balls and I'll have the heavy ones. We're aiming for all the pins, try not to slip over the lane. And no bumpers" He says it like you're a child and fakes a gasp when you punch him in the shoulder.

"I've played before, you moron!"

"You can't even hold the ball without complaining that your fingers hurt" Steve chimes in your conversation, sitting next to you as you put on your shoes.

You look over at him and roll your eyes. "How would you play with a broken finger, bro?" You tease him.

Your brother seems confused with your question. You get up from your seat only to step up with your right foot over your it right where his hand rests. Your bowling shoe presses against his fingers and you watch as Steve struggles to pull his hand back to him. His fingers look bruised already and he takes a few steps toward you.

"You little bitch" He whispers. "You better find some other place to sleep tonight"

You stare back at him with a sided smile over your face, while he tries not to choke his own sister in public.

"Alright brother and sister, let's have some fun okay? It's just a joke" Robin comes to you both and holds her friend's forearm, pulling him closer to her. You watch him give you the middle finger and you can't help but laugh.

Steve's date is a nice girl and really smart. Emma is also funny and likes to make jokes as well, but her father isn't so nice. She had to leave earlier than she thought after her dad came to pick her up. You see how your brother seems upset, especially because it's been so long since he hadn't been having fun with girls. They were all too annoying or too difficult to deal with.

It was you against Eddie and Robin against Steve now. Eddie took his time to teach you a few things and tricks, he graciously grasped his calloused fingers against your skin and you could feel a strange electricity run through your body and Eddie felt the same. For a moment he thought it could’ve been his mind playing games, but when he looked over to his left side he saw Steve staring at both of you with worry in his eyes. 

Your brother doesn’t want things to go wrong for his friend, and he knows how much Eddie cared about you too. The metalhead shook his head lightly and focused on telling you how to release the ball without it hurting your fingers. All you could hear was a buzz in your ears and it was hard to stay sane when there’s a man standing inches from your face teaching you how to hold a fucking bowling ball. 

The next few minutes, though, were played in slow motion for Eddie. He watched as Chrissy arrived with Jason resting his right arm around her small shoulders. She was smiling at him and laughing at something he was telling her. If it wasn’t for Robin, Eddie probably would’ve dropped the heavier ball over your foot. You didn’t see it happening right away because you were tying your shoes, but when you noticed Steve kicking you incessantly, you turned over just in time to see her with the basketball team leader. 

Isn’t it just funny? Funny how both are the most popular and obnoxious people in school. Funny how they “match” because of the status and how wrong everything about that is. Eddie stood there frozen in his place, his shoulders were hard as a rock and slumped, while Robin tried talking to him. You looked over Steve and saw his expression turn into anger. You know how much he tries not to break someone’s nose when he crosses his arms against his chest and just scowls at people. That’s how protective he is over his friends and he learned to be protective over Eddie as well. 

“What a fucking bitch” Robin whispered right next to Eddie, who instantly turned his head to look at her for a second. “I’m sorry”.

She rested one of her hands over his shoulder and he didn’t move an inch from his place as he watched them both look at each other and smile. They didn’t even notice all of you from the other side of the place and maybe it was for the best. You felt as Steve pulled you by your hand and looked at Robin, who was still holding Eddie’s shoulder while all of you walked out of there without being noticed. 

He didn’t have an expression on his face for the first seconds after you got to the parking lot. But as soon as he stood closer to his van, Eddie gripped a strand of his hair with both hands leaving a heavy sigh from his lips. The three of you didn’t know what to say or do, and watched as your friend had an outbreak moment. He laughed, Eddie laughed so loud and it was an obvious fake laugh. The one you let out when you’re nervous. Now looking closely, you can see a tear being shed and slide down his cheek. You couldn’t help yourself and walked up to him, holding him closely as you rested your chin on his shoulder. He’s a little taller, so you have to be on tippy toes. 

“She-” His voice broke from holding back the tears and you forcefully closed your eyes in anger. “She said she loved me” 

“I’m really sorry, Ed” You try to comfort him but you know he’s hurting and it won’t make a difference now. But you want to be there for him and stop the tears from falling if you need to. 

“How could she do that?” His voice was barely above a whisper and he wasn’t feeling ashamed of crying in front of his friends. 

It takes both of you a few minutes after breaking the contact, and you watch as Eddie tries to get rid of his wet face with the hem of his t-shirt. Don’t look, now is not the fucking time. You don’t answer his question, but you know it’s time for you to let him know the truth. He deserves to know she’s always been and always will be a fucking slut. Eddie gets in the car after opening the passenger door for you and you sit there not really knowing how you’re going to say it. 

As he sits down and exhales a long sigh, he fixes his messed hair and looks at you. His smile is broken and his eyes are a little puffy and you feel your heart break. Your first instinct is to carefully place one hand over his jawline and rub your thumb against his skin. “I’m sorry about the outbreak” He says.

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, Eddie”

“I just don’t fucking understand anything! She said she was hanging out with her cheerleader friends and I told her it was okay and that I was staying home. I was tired from working at the library. God, she- It’s Jason fucking Carver, that guy hates me!” Eddie sounded pretty much like he was frustrated with everything at that moment and you couldn’t do much. 

You couldn’t do anything to take away his pain, you just had to be there for him. Maybe it’s better to end this now and accept the fact he’s gonna hate you forever, rather than hiding from him what she’s been like from the beginning. 

“She’s always been like that, Eddie” You whispered, watching as he slowly looked at you with a blank stare. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head a little. “She… used to talk about you back in middle school. A lot of bad things. About how creepy you were and that you would never have friends. When we were all together before the plays, she would say things like that, Chrissy used to talk about Steve too. She talked about him so many times”. 

You were trying to be patient and wait for a response but it never came. He just kept staring back at you for a couple of minutes, biting his lower lip a little too hard for your liking. And then he laughed again, and that’s when you knew shit was about to go down. Because you know he would believe you. But it comes with a consequence. 

He laughed for a few seconds and tossed his head back with a hard laugh. God, it was actually terrifying to look at him like that. Eddie lowered his head and gripped your hand with one of his own. He didn’t push it, he just placed it back over your lap.

“So, you’re telling me… that you’ve known this entire time she never liked me- And- And you never told me?” His tone came out a little hoarse and hurt, it made your skin shiver. It’s not like he was gonna yell at you because it isn’t Eddie, but he was definitely hurt. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you back then, Eddie. And then when I found out you were together I saw how happy you were!” You felt your own tears stream down your face as you tried to keep eye contact with him, but it was too painful to look. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking happy now? Why would you never tell me someone was talking shit about me?” Eddie was so upset with you right now, but he could never treat a woman like shit. Not even when he’s the most stressed. 

“Because you didn’t deserve that! It was Chrissy, she was never nice to people she didn’t like. I don’t think she ever liked me as a matter of fact! She never got along with Steve!” 

“It doesn’t concern me if she liked me or not. It matters to me what she did back then and why the fuck she decided I was the one she liked now! Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. She literally played me and I’m sitting in my fucking car right now just digesting everything she ever did” Eddie started crying again and this time his tears were from being upset and disappointed. It was because of you now, not because of her. 

He called you Harrington, it's the weirdest thing to ever hear when it comes to him, because he never calls his friends by their last name unless he's mad or it's just a joke. But it isn't a joke.

“I know, I’m really sorry about that. I never bought the story that she genuinely liked you and I really wanted to believe she did. But I never trusted her, I never liked her either. Eddie, I swear I never wanted you to get hurt like this” You raised your left hand to brush off his tears while with your right one you held his shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I really believed she did. She never seemed to make it like it wasn’t true. God, I’m so fucking dumb! You should’ve told me befo-” His words choked over his crying and you felt your heart sink in your chest. 

“I never wanted things to end like this, I’m so sorry Eds. I really am, I was supposed to let you know, I know that. It wasn’t fair to you!” 

“She was the only person who ever liked me and now I’m back to being alone and-” You gripped his wet chin and raised his head so he could look at you. Eddie was a mess, his hair was damp from all the crying and his bangs were all over his face. 

“Hey, she’s not the only person who ever liked you…” Your hands were trembling and your heart was racing.

"What does that even mean?" He looked very confused. He was struggling to stop crying and you could see how much he was stressed.

It was a surprise he wasn't having an asthma attack yet.

You bit your lower lip and didn't try to disguise what you wanted to say. You just hated that the situation brought you two into this mess and now you're about to tell him what you've been holding in for years.

Both of you were looking intensely at each other and Eddie let out a gasp of disbelief. He was surprised, that was the only word enough to describe him right now. 

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[latin5mamii]

5:42 am

genre: JudeBellingham x you; cute and fluff

summary: After a whole night of no-sleep, you decide to help your boyfriend forget about his overthinking for once.

author's note: Cute and fluffy! Didn't want to make it too depressing so i added a bit of humor; i know this is work is unexpected but i'm getting a lot of inspiration rn!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

The world is still asleep when Jude wakes, moving with the careful precision of someone practiced in not disturbing the peace. His hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and he shifts cautiously to sit up on the edge of the bed.

The room is dark save for the faint blue light creeping through the curtains, a soft haze that makes everything feel slower, quieter.

He doesn’t hear you stir behind him.

The mattress dips slightly as you roll over, and he freezes. For a second, he thinks you’ll fall back asleep, but your voice—soft and warm like the blankets tangled around you—breaks the silence.

"You're already up"

It’s not a question, and there’s no frustration in your tone—just a quiet understanding. Before every match, he could never sleep. He’d toss and turn, get up for water, but he could never settle—especially now, with so much to think about.

Jude glances over his shoulder, a little sheepish as he meets your sleepy gaze.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs. His voice is a whisper, rough from the early hour.

“You didn’t.” You stretch slightly, the movement slow and lazy. “You never do.”

He smiles at that—small, almost imperceptible in the low light. You sit up halfway, leaning on your elbow as you watch him tug on a sweatshirt over his T-shirt.

“Don’t go just yet,” you say, voice still quiet but carrying a softness that stops him mid-motion. “Come back here for a minute; you have so much time left. ”

Jude doesn't hesitate even for a second as soon as he sees you—still cocooned in blankets, your hair messy and your eyes heavy-lidded but bright. It’s not a hard choice, not really.

He slips back into bed without a word, settling beside you. Your arm loops around his waist instinctively, and he leans into it, letting his head rest against yours.

The silence in the room is thick but comforting, punctuated only by the faint hum of the world outside—a car passing, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jude’s breathing evens out as he melts into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders softening. You run your hand gently along his back, tracing patterns you don’t think about but that he seems to feel, leaning into each movement.

“You think too much,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but close enough that he hears it.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his arm drapes over you, pulling you closer. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel him exhale deeply, as if the weight of what you said has settled somewhere in his chest.

“I just want to get it right,” he murmurs, finally. The words are small but heavy, like they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days.

“You always do.”

The response is automatic, and you mean it—every syllable. You wish you could pull his thoughts away, fold it neatly into something manageable. But for now, all you can do is hold him.

Jude pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. The dim light softens his features—his dark eyes are wide, thoughtful, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something but decides against it.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing a hand through his hair, which is still slightly messy from sleep.

Jude lingers in the embrace a moment longer, his face tucked against the curve of your neck, the warmth of your skin drawing out a softness he didn’t realize he needed. But when he finally shifts, there’s something lighter in his expression. He nudges his nose against your cheek, playful, and murmurs,

“You’ve turned me into a morning person, you know.”

You laugh, low and easy, your fingers pausing in his hair to tap lightly against the side of his head. “I don’t think you get to claim that title until you actually enjoy mornings, Jude.”

He pulls back enough to look at you, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “What if I just enjoy mornings with you?”

“That’s sweet,” you tease, your smile brightening the dim room. “But you still groan every time the alarm goes off, so I’m not sure it counts.”

“Details.” He grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before sitting up. The bed shifts under his weight, and you watch as he stretches, the hem of his sweatshirt riding up slightly. The sight makes you laugh—something about the way his early-morning dishevelment feels so ordinary and yet so utterly him.

He glances over his shoulder at you, catching the amused tilt of your smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, though the laughter still dances in your voice. “You’re just...cute like this.”

His ears turn a little pink, and he rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s make some coffee before you embarrass me even more.”

“Embarrass you? Never,” you shoot back, but you’re already sitting up, tossing the blankets aside. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly, reaching for the oversized sweater draped over the chair beside the bed. Jude is already standing, holding a hand out to help you up.

The two of you move quietly even though you're alone in the house, the soft shuffle of your steps the only sound. Jude goes straight to the counter, pulling out the coffee beans and the grinder.

“You want tea, right?” he asks over his shoulder, already reaching for the kettle.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning against the counter and watching him. He moves with a kind of easy precision, his focus shifting between the coffee and the kettle like it’s a little morning ritual he’s perfected. You can’t help but smile—it’s a far cry from the nerves that had him tossing and turning earlier.

“What’s funny now?” he asks, catching your expression as he sets the kettle to boil.

“Just you,” you say, your voice light. “All serious about coffee like it’s a science.”

“It is a science,” he replies, mock-indignant. “And you’re lucky I’m good at it, or you’d be stuck drinking whatever shit they call coffee down the street.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back, barely suppressing a laugh. “Says the guy who puts honey in his coffee.

Jude shakes his head, chuckling as he stirs the honey into his mug. “Is it that bad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug, fighting back a grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t say bad. Just...no okay it's actually bad.”

Jude groans dramatically, hand over his heart as if your words wounded him. “Wow. First thing in the morning, and you’re already coming for me.”

After a moment, you set your mug down and glance at him. “What do you want for breakfast? Or are we just surviving on caffeine today?”

Jude’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile. “Surviving on caffeine sounds very me,” he admits. Then, after a beat, he straightens and adds, “But pancakes sound better.”

“Pancakes?” you say, arching a brow. “Aren't you the man who claims he doesn’t need breakfast?”

“I’m evolving,” he says, feigning a look of mock importance. “Also, I think we have chocolate chips in the pantry.”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Chocolate chip pancakes at dawn? I really am impressed.”

He nudges your side playfully, grinning. “Come on, let’s do it. We’ll make them quick. I’ll even let you flip them.”

“Generous of you,” you tease, already moving toward the pantry.

The only sounds are the soft clatter of bowls and utensils as the two of you work together, gathering ingredients and mixing the batter. Jude insists he’s got the perfect pancake recipe memorized, but you end up adding a little extra milk to the bowl when he’s not looking, just to mess with him.

“What did you just do?” he asks, squinting at you suspiciously as you stir.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, biting back a grin. “Just making sure it’s not too thick.”

He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue, instead grabbing a ladle and heating the pan. “Alright, let’s see how this goes.”

The first pancake comes out a little lopsided, and you burst into laughter as Jude flips it onto a plate with exaggerated precision.

“Hey,” he says, pointing the spatula at you, “it’s not about how it looks—it’s about how it tastes.”

“Sure, Chef Jude,” you reply, still laughing as you lean against the counter, watching him pour the next one.

The second pancake is better—golden brown and perfectly round—and by the time the stack is finished, the kitchen smells like warm batter and melted chocolate. Jude sets the plate on the table with a triumphant flourish, and you grab two forks, sliding into a chair beside him.

Jude nudges your foot under the table, catching your eye as he chews his first bite.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning.

You smile back, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the pancakes. “Not bad at all.”

You pause eating and carefully set the little fork down on your plate. Looking at him, you offer a gentle smile, hoping to ease the weight of the long night.

“You’re going to do great today. I just know it.”

He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing your nose and then your cheek. After a moment, his hand settles softly on yours.

"I hope your predictions are right, then"