#then editing the words underneath all the pictures

[hyperfixation-stationn]

I can’t find any scans of the special edition Journal 3 with a high definition look at what’s under the pictures…

What if I… what if I scanned my journal and edited them…. Hahaha…..

Oh

(The editing process)

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

[wiishopwednesday]

longing for something you can never return to

[ID: a collection of images relating to nostalgia. the first image is a genius screenshot of the lyrics to car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)." the screenshot reads "We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back." the second image is the "we got the torture labyrinth tomorrow" meme template, edited to instead say "We got missing what we can never return to tomorrow/What?/We got the beginning of the rest of our lives tomorrow/Ohhhh/Okay." the third image is a discord screenshot, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and reads "Duuudeee you missed out on those 7 days where god created earth you are fucked LOL." the fourth image is a screenshot of a piece of text, which reads in bolder font "You can never leave home." underneath it, in normal text, it reads "You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." the fifth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user ryebreadgf, which reads "YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN BITE AND SCRATCH AND BEG BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK!" the sixth image is a screenshot of a piece of text that reads, "YOU KILL YOURSELF AND IMMEDIATELY WAKE UP AS A CHILD ON YOUR PARENTS BED. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE SUN IS SHINING." the seventh image is a picture of two uneven dark yellow boxed next to each other on a off-white background. the first box reads, in handwriting, "I'm terrified of change." the second box reads, "I'm terrified of staying this way forever." the eighth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user dakotajohnsongf, which reads "women be looking at pictures of their childhood selves and trying to find a way back to them." the ninth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user bestofgentleearth, containing a screenshot from a forum of some kind. a line of text reads "(16 hours ago) butterfly said:" underneath, an indented section of text reads "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer." the tenth image is another tumblr post by user cursedsuggestion, which reads "the friend you miss comes home for good. you never see another mirror. it's summer forever and that terrible thought you keep having finally disappears." the eleventh image is a screenshot of a reddit post, with the original poster's username and icon cropped out so only the text is visible. it reads "I'm not sure how to word this, but I constantly go through this deep sense of loss. I feel like I terribly miss something I love from the bottom of my heart, but I don't know what it is, exactly. Nothing in life satisfies me, nothing makes me content, but l wouldn't say I'm depressed either. There's just this endless search for something, and at times I feel I can catch a glimpse of it - different sceneries pop into my head at times, like of a particular beach at night, and I'm moved to tears. Or I remember a dream and all the feelings that were stirring while I saw that dream, and feel entirely connected to them." the twelfth image is a screenshot of a tumblr post, but the original poster is cropped out so only the text is visible, which reads "wait i wasn't ready. i never finished that game of tag. i still need to learn how to do a cartwheel. my friends and i never finished making that bridge over the creek. i want to go back. can you carry me to bed one last time? and maybe i'll wake up tomorrow in my childhood room with my pink walls and we'll laugh over this dream at breakfast." the thirteenth image is another tumblr screenshot of a post by user heavensghost, which reads "uhhh yh sure u can go back but no one will be waiting for you there."

the fourteenth image is a screenshot of a reddit comment, with the user's information cropped out so that only the text is visible, which reads "HIRAETH (heer-eye-th) 'A deep homesickness; an intense form of longing or nostalgia for a place long gone, or even an unaccountable homesickness for a place you have never visited. A pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.'" the fifteenth image is a collection of 3 rows of black boxes, with 3 boxes in each row. the first box has a white, vague form of a human. the second box pictures the human form stretching its arms and legs out. from the third box onward, the human figure starts to dissipate into white dots until it has completely disappeared and only dots remain. the sixteenth image is a tumblr post by user n1ntendos, which reads "I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!!! anyways." the seventeenth image is a screenshot of text that reads "I cling to everything - CDs that skip, rings that turn my fingers green, the dead ends of my hair, old love notes that turn my stomach over and over. And I'm not proud but there are still boxes under my bed. And I'm not proud but my closet is still running out of space. And nostalgia is a fucking waste of time but my heart is full with it. Tell me I won't hold this forever. Tell me there will be a day where I let gloriously go." the eighteenth image is an image of larger text that reads "It's a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world." the nineteenth image is a photograph of a large white dog standing in a dark, flowing river surrounded by a dark forest and green trees. the dog is facing away from the viewer with its mouth open. the dog appears to be glowing, likely due to a lens flare of some kind. the entire picture feels very melancholy and nostalgic. the twentieth image is larger text that reads "Nostalgia is the aching realization that you can't go back again. The longing, no matter how intense, can never be met." the twenty-first image is a screenshot of an instagram dm, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and it reads "well the time passes anyway so I have to." the twenty-second image is a screenshot of the spotify lyrics for gerard way's song "action cat." the lyrics read "Hey/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you too." the twenty-third image is a screenshot of text that reads "YOUR CHILDHOOD DOG IS ALIVE. YOUR DEAD BEST FRIEND WANTS TO GET COFFEE. YOU HAVE BEEN KIND AND GOOD. THERE IS NOTHING CHASING YOU. YOU CAN SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO?" the twenty-fourth image is a continuation of the lyrics from car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)" that were pictured in the first image. these lyrics read "We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/(Don't spend too much time on it)." end ID.]

[blog-o-meter]

Room 5 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) escapes to a quaint little hotel by the beach for a few days. On the first night, she realizes that the hot guy in the neighboring room is a... loud guy, and she finds that she can't seem to escape him no matter where she goes.

warnings: 18+, voyeurism (auditory), self-masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, cursing

required listening: 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

word count: 17,415

a/n: sorry this one is so long (compared to my other fics), but I just had too much fun writing this one. I honestly could've gone writing more. If anything, I can just add on, but I think I wrapped a nice, little bow on this one. I hope you guys like it, and I would appreciate any and all feedback!! pls enjoy :) edit: I continued the story in a sequel of sorts, which you can check out below!

Making Room (Part 2) | Room On Fire (Part 3) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

reblogs and likes are appreciated and lets me know if you'd like to see more!

The boutique hotel looked absolutely adorable, white brick on the outside and only two stories — a tiny café and gift shop downstairs and the rooms up top, just steps away from the ocean. It sat between two tall condo buildings, which mostly housed an older crowd of out-of-state tourists.

I was in search of the perfect place for a weekend getaway, and this place seemed to check all the boxes. It wasn’t near any of the busy beach accesses where all of the rowdy high schoolers seemed to hang out at, and the pictures of the café seemed like it was straight out of an interior designer’s Pinterest board. This place, The Pearl, seemed perfect.

Actually, I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long while, having booked this trip about a month ago. Funnily enough, I lived just 30 minutes away from the beach but never had the time to just get away for a couple of days — until now.

After I checked in, I carried my weekend bag and backpack up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the wood creaking underneath my sandals. When I turned on the mid-level landing, that’s when I heard a second set of footsteps coming down from above. I turned my head up, my eyes falling on the drop-dead gorgeous man carefully shuffling down the steps.

Our shoulders brushed as I squeezed by with my luggage, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver that branched out from where our arms grazed.

“Sorry,” I whispered without missing a beat.

The guy smiled politely as he turned his head back, his big, brown eyes inviting, “You’re good.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing his warm, low voice. The stranger was ridiculously attractive, his muscles bulging out of the wife beater covering his torso, his tousled brown hair elegantly falling over his eyebrows. His smile, though, was what made my skin prickle — a wide, genuine grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth behind his pink lips.

I returned a polite smile, continuing my journey up the stairs before he could notice my blushing cheeks. When I arrived to the top of the landing, I saw that the second floor was T-shaped, the rooms in ascending order the further I walked down the hallway.

I turned the corner, immediately sensing the change in atmosphere compared to the row of rooms I had just passed. This section of the hallway seemed much more secluded, quiet, possibly because, indeed, it was in its own corner of the floor away from all the other rooms.

I passed by the one other door in the hall, reaching my room — 6 — at the end where a singular window accented the softly-lit hallway. Setting my bags down, I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my text messages with the hotel manager for the code to my door. I appreciated the fact that the rooms had a code to enter instead of a plastic key card that I could lose in the sand.

As I input the code into the lock, the wooden staircases creaked as a set of footsteps became louder and louder making their way toward me. It was the same handsome man I had brushed shoulders with earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder as he approached the only other door, room 5.

Our eyes met briefly, a flicker of recognition in his. “Good night, neighbor,” he said with a slight nod, that same smile that made my chest warm flashing across his face as he made his way inside his room, the heavy door falling closed behind him.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What are the odds the hot guy and I were staying next to each other? 1 in 5 it seems.

Shaking off the butterflies fluttering around my stomach, I finished inputting the code and dragging my bags inside the freezing room, stopping to admire the details of what my hard-earned paycheck had managed to spoil me with. The room was quaint, a neutral island color palette — the large bathroom and queen-sized bed to my right and the 70” flatscreen tv and closet on the shared wall to my left, a built-in marble counter all along the bottom.

The bathroom was my favorite: an art-deco flair with hints of coastal influence. The full shower was astounding in the best way possible — a beautiful mosaic pattern along the whole wall, double shower heads on opposite ends, and with enough space to possibly fit maybe 5 people. I could literally walk about ten steps between the two shower heads.

I walked back out to the room, setting my bags on the counter and starting to unpack, not in any particular rush to venture outside. As I organized my stuff — bikinis, pajamas, toiletries — I turned on the tv, flipping through channels and settling on HBO, Black Swan playing a few minutes in.

Enthralled by the movie and remembering I had a few snacks in my backpack, I changed into my pajamas and dug out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates from my backpack, climbing into bed and stretching out my arms and legs, excited to start my weekend getaway.

At some point, I had drifted off with a chocolate in my hand only to be awoken by a sound. I didn’t know what it was at first, choosing to ignore it and keeping my eyes closed, hoping I’d drift back to sleep. But it persisted, and it wasn’t a sound I had expected to hear — a woman’s moans.

My eyes fluttered open, thinking it might’ve been coming from the tv. After all, Black Swan did have a sex scene. However, I found the tv to be off. Maybe I had forgotten I turned it off myself before drifting off to sleep. Then, a low, drawn-out groan rumbled through, clear as day.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flushed, burning at the realization of what I was hearing. I mean, I know a boutique hotel might not have the same amenities as a more established hotel chain, but you’d think thicker walls would have been a forethought. How could somebody planning to open a hotel not have thicker walls?

Again, I heard the moaning, and there was only one other room in the hallway that they could be coming from — room 5, the hot guy. I sat up in bed, heart pounding as I processed what was happening in the room behind the tv. The sounds were so clear you’d think they were having sex in the hallway.

In fact, I thought just that. There was no way that was happening right? I walked up to my room door and carefully peeked my head out, finding the hallway empty.

I retreated back into my room, my heart racing. Any other person would’ve probably turned the tv back on, or put on some headphones, something to block out the sounds, but what I did, I couldn’t tell anyone else about. I stood frozen, listening. I listened past the rhythmic porn-like moaning of the faceless woman, instead focusing on the low rumble of the hot neighbor guy’s voice.

The closet that shared a wall with his room beckoned my name, tempting me to inch closer. Before I knew it, my bare feet were shuffling toward the closet door, quietly swinging it open. The space was small, just big enough to fit a luggage rack and a few hangers up top, but the rhythmic thumping and guttural groans just behind the plaster called out to me.

Carefully, I leaned over the luggage rack, pressing my cheek against the cold, white wall. Every sound was clearer now — the creak of the bed slowing to a stop, the huffing coming from my neighbor, and the yelps coming from the mysterious lady. I could even make out some words.

“Bend over,” my neighbor spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

My stomach twisted hearing him speak in such a commanding yet intimate manner. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a stranger so polite in passing could be so primal behind closed doors; though, wasn’t everyone?

“You’re so huge, Nicholas,” the mystery lady spoke back.

I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was just so enthralled. Did they know just how thin the walls are, assuming they’d block out most sound like I did? I couldn’t imagine someone knowing the walls were thin and still choosing to have sex, especially knowing there was an occupied room next door.

The plaster was cool under my cheek, refreshingly so as I could feel myself becoming warmer and warmer. The sounds of their erotic encounter seemed to vibrate through the wall, through me. Without noticing, I had squeezed my thighs together, my hand finding its way at the band of my pajama pants. As soon as I felt my fingertip slip under my underwear, I was jolted out of my trance. What was I doing?

Before I could feel any more guilty for lingering longer than I should’ve, I pulled myself away from the wall and scampered back toward the bed, choosing to ignore what was going beyond next door, my heart racing. Grabbing my headphones from my nightstand and slipping them on, I threw myself into the sheets and turned on my white noise playlist. But as much as I forced myself to focus on the therapeutic noise, my imagination wandered, picturing the faces my neighbor — Nicholas — might be making right now as he pleasured the woman accompanying him. Before I knew it, though, I had managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, I made my way down the staircase to the hotel’s tiny café, eager to start my day with a light, sweet breakfast. As I descended down the last few steps, I looked over to the sea of tables, hesitation in my heels as my eyes landed on Nicholas sitting by his lonesome as he enjoyed a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a beat-up book in the other.

Swallowing the thought of what I did, and listened to, last night, I walked past him and approached the café counter, the smell of warm croissants and muffins enveloping my nostrils, a temporary distraction that I was grateful to experience.

“Hi,” I politely smiled to the employee, “Can I just get an Italian crème croissant with a hot green tea, please?” I quietly asked, not wanting to interrupt the quiet, calm atmosphere for the patrons of the café. 

The barista nodded her head, inputting my order into the tablet register, “We’ll send it over to your table,” she smiled.

I slipped her the money for my breakfast, smiling, “Thank you so much,” and making my way through the slew of empty tables.

I settled in at the corner table on the opposite end of the room, wanting to be as far away from Nicholas as possible to avoid any awkward conversations. Though, I may have chosen the worst table for my plan, accidentally giving myself a clear, unobstructed view of Nicholas from across the room.

His hair was damp, not purposefully styled in any particular way but still somehow falling over his eyebrows in such a perfect manner. He wore a loose flannel with a few buttons loose, the shirt billowing open to tease just enough of the gold cross chain draping over the sculpted valley between his chest.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, completely enthralled by what he was reading — Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I was stunned by his choice of literature. There was an old fellow a few tables down reading the newspaper to get his local news, meanwhile this guy, Nicholas, was probably on some page where the author is describing, in excruciating honesty, a night he had with a prostitute just as easily as one could describe their morning routine. In a way, I was impressed, curious.

As I waited for my breakfast, fiddling with my fingers, occasionally looking at my phone, my eyes would glance over toward Nicholas, my gaze lingering just a beat too long. The way he achingly turned the page, the tip of his finger playing at the corner of the paper, or the way he’d carefully bring the mug of coffee up to his lips — it was all so titillating.

Thankfully, though, the barista came over with a small pot of piping hot tea and my croissant, interrupting my trance and carefully setting down the items in front of me. Just as she left, my eyes flickered up to Nicholas to find that he had glanced up from his book, a polite smirk at the corner of his lips when his eyes met mine, lifting his mug in a silent, “Cheers.”

Not sure if I should wave or say hi or flash a toothy smile, I settled for a polite closed-mouth smile, lifting my mug back at him before quickly focusing my attention to the food in front of me as my cheeks grew warm. The greeting wasn’t graceful at all, but how could I focus on being graceful knowing I eavesdropped on his privacy just last night? If I was awkward at all, I figured it was my subconscious trying to punish me.

I served myself some tea and picked at my croissant as I looked out the window to the occasional family or couple walking down the street, all carrying their beach items and taking their time to get to the sand. I’d even glance around to the other patrons at the café. Though, I think part of me wanted to see if any of the girls would join Nicholas at his table and reveal herself to be the high-pitched moaner from last night. However, nobody ever did join him. Was he here alone? Or maybe she had taken the morning to be by herself.

Every impulse in me was begging me to take just one more look at Nicholas, to savor his image one last time, but I fought it. Everything except anything in Nicholas’s direction became intriguing to me. The checkered tile on the ground, the promotional poster on the window that I could barely read because of the sunshine striking through it, the older fellow enjoying his newspaper — I didn’t think I’d find myself focusing on the details of such things trying to avoid the gaze of some guy I had talked to for no more than 10 seconds, maybe less.

When I finished up, I quietly tidied the table, collecting all of the dishes and brushing off any crumbs, making my way out of the café and toward my car.

The breeze was refreshing, a nice whisper against my cheeks. I opened the trunk, staring at all of the beach gear I had to carry by myself. It was a struggle, but I managed to carry everything in both my arms — umbrella, picnic, basket, beach chair, headphones, blanket — using every crevice of my upper body to anchor something to me so it wouldn’t fall on the way over.

Thankfully, the beach access was right next to the hotel, and the path to the open sand wasn’t too long. When I got to the end of the path, I was grateful for having woken up early for the opportunity to pick a spot in an otherwise empty beach, a few umbrellas and chairs here and there from the condo occupants. I chose a spot that didn’t have any people too close by for maximum relaxation, carefully setting everything down on the sand.

I stabbed my pink, frilly cabana umbrella into the ground, laying out my beach blanket and beach chair in the shade, sliding everything else onto the corners of the blanket so the breeze wouldn’t pick the fabric up and blow sand toward me.

The water was calling my name, the light green water perfectly sparkling against the morning sun. But before I could strip my clothes off and jump in, I looked around to see if anybody would be looking as I pulled off my clothes. I didn’t see anybody particularly interested in my arrival, so I quickly pulled off my jean shorts and tee to reveal my glittery brown bikini set underneath. Before I became too hyper aware of my body, I walked toward the water, instead letting the feeling wash over me just as the waves of deliciously cold seawater did.

The occasional squawk of seagulls, the sun warming up my skin as it rose higher and higher in the sky and the sound of the waves crashing was all perfect. This moment was all I wanted out of this weekend. No distractions, no work — just me and the ocean. Needless to say, I was very excited to be able to repeat this routine for the next couple of days. 

I continued walking into the water until I was chest-deep to let the ocean devour me whole. The feeling that a wave could crash over me entirely was exhilarating. The water slowly picked me up by my feet as I hopped around.

I lingered for a few more minutes in the water, splashing water around or searching for little fish before stepping back out once my fingers started to wrinkle. As I strutted out of the water, though, I saw the familiar shape of somebody relaxing in a chair just a few feet next to my umbrella — Nicholas.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he was a guest in the hotel, too, after all. Why else would someone book a room in a hotel by the beach if they wouldn’t find themselves relaxing in the sand? But did he have to set up next to me when there was an entire football field of available space?

Meekly and careful not to trip or stumble on the way over, I walked toward my umbrella, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Nicholas, but from the corner of my eye I could see he sat there with his chest exposed. I had to let myself give in; what was the harm in a little peek?

He sat reclined in his chair, his skin deliciously glistening under the killer sun as he took it in. His hair was lightly brushing across his face from the sea breeze, like Mother Nature herself was playing with his hair. Nicholas’s long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet digging slightly into the sand. Both hands rested lazily on the arm of the chair, open. It was like he wanted to take up as much space as he could. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes; I couldn’t tell where he was looking or if he was looking anywhere at all. He radiated a kind of tranquility, as if the ocean had washed away any burdens he carried, something I hoped to experience myself this weekend.

I realized I was staring, my breath caught somewhere between awe and curiosity. I darted my eyes away, afraid I might be caught, which is absolutely the last thing I want.

Growing cold from the breeze brushing my wet skin, I grabbed my towel, drying myself off and squeezing the water out of my hair, mindful of turning myself from Nicholas so as to not flick any water droplets his way or have him think I was trying to grab his attention deliberately. Maybe he just sat there without knowing he had set up next to me. After all, I was in the water this entire time.

As I settled in, I brushed my wet hair over the back of my chair and reached for my picnic basket, pulling out my headphones, sunglasses, and my current read, White Oleander. I didn’t want to distract myself with any energetic music, instead opting to listen to the White Oleander movie soundtrack for the perfect accompaniment to the book.

I read through the chapter I had left off in, but I found myself having to reread some paragraphs, even entire pages, every time I saw Nicholas shift in his seat from the corner of my eye every few seconds. Even the way he jittered his knee up and down was distracting, almost like he wanted to grab my attention. After some minutes, he stood up from his chair, letting out a groan as he slowly stretched his arms and walked toward the water, and I silently thanked the universe for finally letting me have a few minutes to myself.

Though, I couldn’t help but occasionally glance up from my book to observe Nicholas in the water. The sun accentuated his muscles in an almost picturesque way, the stark shadow falling under each crevice of his body perfectly. He cut through the water like a knife as he walked deeper and deeper in the water, splashing water over his chest and shoulders, eventually dipping himself under the water to wet his hair. When he reemerged, the surface broke with a powerful splash, Nicholas throwing his head back and brushing his hair back with his hands.

Shaking myself out of Nicholas’s trance, I buried myself back in my book, trying not to look back up to him and letting myself get lost in the story, and for a while, I did. However, the universe seemed to like playing cruel jokes. About two chapters later, a shadow crossed my face. Curious to know if it was a bird or somebody’s umbrella flying away, I looked up to find Nicholas standing in front of me with a small grin.

“Good book?” He asked, drying his hair with a towel.

Shocked, I almost couldn’t form any words, but I managed to spit out a normal-sounding sentence, “Uh, so far, yeah, but I’m more familiar with the movie.”

“I’ve never seen it,” he confessed, dragging the towel up and down his dripping torso, almost deliberately. “Do you recommend it?”

I was quiet first, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of the night before that kept replaying in my mind. My eyes drifted up from his torso to the smile on his face, his straight white teeth in full show. Thank god I had my sunglasses on

“Totally. The dialogue in that movie is…” I trilled my lips, searching for the right word, “poignant.”

“Sounds raw,” he threw the towel over his shoulder, resting his hands on his hips, his lat muscles flexing outward like wings. “Is it your favorite movie?” He asked as he sat down in his chair, shifting until he found a comfortable position.

“One of,” I replied, turning my head to face him.

“I’ll check it out then,” he smiled, grabbing Tropic of Cancer out from under his chair and spreading it open.

“There’s a movie on that one, too,” I pointed to the book in his hands.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the paperback, like he had forgotten what book he was reading. But then, a cheeky grin grew on his lips, “Did you like it?”

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, knowing what Nicholas had meant. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen it,” I smiled, turning my head back to the book in my hands, having almost forgotten about it.

All I heard back from him was a quiet chuckle before he settled back into his chair, the both of us reading their respective books.

After a half hour, I tossed the book and my sunglasses back into the basket and walked out over to the water. I paused at the dry edge of the sand, letting the water nip at my toes, trying not to picture Nicholas behind me. He could have been glancing at me as I made my way over, but he could also be looking at the sky, or the book in his hands, or maybe even his phone. As much as I wanted to peek over my shoulder, I continued forward, letting the sea swallow me.

I lingered, brushing my fingertips over the surface as I planted myself in knee-deep water, clutching the sand underneath my toes as it dissolved under me. As the water hugged my calves, I searched the water for anything I could find — maybe a lost pair of sunglasses, some little fishes, or maybe a conch laying at the bottom of the ocean floor. To no avail, I slowly started to retreat from the water, picking my head up to find Nicholas was looking forward, hiding behind his sunglasses again.

I didn’t let the fact he was looking over to my direction affect my ability to walk properly. After all, he could be looking past me. Maybe under those sunglasses he had his eyes closed. I wouldn’t know. However plausible any of those situations were, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Upon approaching my chair, I wrapped myself in the damp towel, deciding that my time at the beach for today would be over for now. Slowly, I started to pack up my things, but I honestly didn’t know how I was gonna carry everything back now that I was damp and shivering. I tried juggling some of the things in my arms, but occasionally something would slip from my grasp. I really tried not to seem so helpless, but when the umbrella slipped out from under my arms with a loud thump, I knew keeping up that ruse wouldn’t work.

“Need help?” I heard Nicholas’s voice behind me.

I turned around, catching him push his sunglasses to the top of his head to show off his crinkled eyes, smiling. It seemed to be more from amusement at watching me struggle, not smiling from politeness.

I struggled to hold onto everything in my arms, “No,” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I managed to bring everything over in the morning.”

An exhale escaped his lips before he tossed the book to the sand and stood up from his chair, making his way over with a satisfied look, “Let me help.”

I bit my lip, debating if I should let him help or to just push him away so I wouldn’t have that constant reminder of hearing him have sex in my head. Before I could answer, though, Nicholas grabbed the beach chair out from under my arm and picked the umbrella up off the floor.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I adjusted the remaining items in my arms, now much more manageable without having to carry the bigger things.

“No problem,” he spoke in a low tone, that same tone I overheard when he said ‘Bend over’ to the woman in his bed last night.

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably warm, like the back of my neck was on fire. His expression was soft, casual, like the same man I had run into in the hallway yesterday, not at all like the man I heard in his room in a false sense of privacy.

We walked back toward the hotel, the sand kicking up behind us with every step. I was too afraid to say anything to him at all after remembering the way he spoke to his late night companion.

“So, are you from around here?” He spoke up, his voice cutting the tension that only I seemed to be aware of.

“Kind of,” I replied, hiding my face behind my damp hair, “I live 30 minutes out. I just came here on a solo-trip for a few days to escape. You?” I didn’t expect the question to slip from my lips, but in a way, I guess, I wanted to coax information out of him. Maybe if I knew more about him, that pang of guilt in my stomach would leave on its own.

He stifled a chuckle, “Not at all. I’m from Colorado, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the answer, “Wouldn’t California beaches be closer to you, maybe even look better than this old shore?” I looked back out into the beach, admiring its charm, but even then, I know it wouldn’t compare to a California beach.

“Actually, I live in LA, so I go out there all the time. I guess, I just wanted to visit a different place,” he answered.

I was surprised at his honesty, but I scoffed, not believing that any person from out of town would want to come here willingly, “Well, you picked a different place, indeed. Not much goes on around here, except when it’s spring break.”

Nicholas stifled a warm chuckle, “Yeah, I think I read that online.”

A part of me wanted to prod. Was he single? Who was that girl from last night? Another guest? The only appropriate question that I could think of that didn’t sound too suspicious was, “Are you here on a solo-trip, too?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, I do a lot of solo travel. There’s a certain freedom in not having to worry about anyone else except yourself.”

I glanced over to him and saw a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he looked over to me. Something fluttered in my chest, or maybe it was just the droplets of water trailing down from my head.

“Sounds liberating,” I managed to spurt out before the long pause became too awkward.

“It is, but sometimes it’s nice to share it with someone else, even for a little bit,” he said, his words hanging in the air.

I didn’t dare reply. I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to our current moment or maybe to the similar encounters of last night he has with women during his trips. Of course, there’s no way he’d know that I knew what he did behind closed doors, but what if he did?

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly agreed to his statement, eager to cut the conversation short.

We arrived at my car. I opened the trunk with my keys that were in my picnic basket, watching as Nicholas bent over to place the umbrella and chair inside, then grabbing everything from my arms and setting them beside each other, closing the trunk.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he held his hand out for me to shake.

That’s when I realized that he had never introduced himself. The only reason I knew his name was because I had my ear pressed against the wall just as his lady friend from last night had moaned it out of her lips.

I hesitated for just a fraction of a second before breaking through that one-sided tension and reaching out to shake his hand, his warm palm sending a shiver up my arm, “(Y/N),” I introduced myself, meeting his gaze for a second or two before looking down at my feet.

“Pretty name,” he smiled.

Blushing, I shyly said, “Thanks,” retreating my hand from his grasp and whipping back a strand of wet hair behind me.

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, the soft curve of his smile inviting me to hold his gaze. “Any chance you’d wanna get a drink later?”

I blinked, my mind scrambling for a response as the question hung between us. This stranger, Nicholas, was never meant to be more than just some nameless blur that happened to also be a guest at the same hotel I was staying. We were only supposed to bump into each other a few times in the hallway, never going into conversation and being fine with that. Now, here he was, asking me if I wanted to have a drink with him.

I kicked my feet nervously, looking down, afraid to look him in the eye as I turned down his offer, “Actually, I have plans.”

His brow lifted slightly, an amused look on his face. “Solo plans?” he asked, clearly poking fun at my earlier words.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, despite my nerves. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of understanding. “But if you change your mind…” he leaned in the tiniest bit, some tiny droplets from his hair dripping onto my skin, “you know where I’m staying,” a mischievous smirk at the end of his lips.

I felt my stomach jump at his words, catching the double meaning. He lingered a bit too long, like he was testing me, before he pulled back, still smirking.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

I watched as he walked past, sauntering back toward the beach. The way his shoulders shifted as he walked, relaxed yet deliberate, made it impossible to look away. The nerve of him, the audacity to be this calm, this magnetic. Maybe it’s because I’m never forward with people I just met, especially if I think they’re attractive, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the swagger Nicholas oozed. It was like he was aware of the effect he had on me.

Desperate to wash away the sand in my crevices, I trotted toward the hotel entrance, going up the stairway and to my room. I felt relief when the cold air of the room hit my face, pulling my hair away from the back of my neck so the air could creep its way and bring some relief to my flustered self. My head buzzed, replaying anything having to do with Nicholas — the way he dried his towel in front of me, his soft chuckles, even the way he walked.

Get it together, (Y/N). He’s just a guy. Just a guy you won’t see ever again after this weekend. Ever.

I sighed, dragging myself to the shower and stripping the wet bikini off my body and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.

I was grateful the shower was huge, that way I didn’t feel as suffocated with the warm water steaming up the glass. However, each time I closed my eyes to let the water fall on my face, all I could picture was Nicholas’s charming smile, all I could hear in my head was the way he said ‘Bend over’ to the girl in his bed last night, and suddenly, I could feel a tension pool low in my belly.

Fed up, I turned the faucet knob to cold, shuddering and gasping loudly the moment it fell down my spine. It might’ve been drastic, but it did help. All I could focus on was trying not to tremble under the cold stream of water enveloping me instead of focusing on a certain man.

Once I was done with my shower, I wrapped my hair and body in a towel each, padding out into the cold room, my ankles shuddering at the cold floor beneath me. I changed into a casual set of clothes, thinking I’d probably go out for a walk later. As I dried my hair with the towel, I made my way over to the window, looking out toward the beach to see Nicholas still lounging out in the sand. He was splayed out on the chair, legs wide open as he leaned back and looked out into the water.

Tired of my mind drifting to him, I jumped into bed and put on my headphones, opening up Hulu to catch up on shows. Before I knew it, hours had gone by and it had become nightfall.

I walked to my luggage resting on the built-in counter, zipping it open to pull out a bag of chips I had bought before arriving. That’s when I heard a light knock on my door. I froze at the sound, too scared to shuffle over and check who it was.

“(Y/N), you there?” I heard Nicholas’s voice call out. I didn’t answer, standing still, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. “If you are, I’m heading over to the bar across the street, if you wanna join me,” he calmly spoke through the door, his voice cool and collected.

After a bit, I heard his feet shuffle away, becoming fainter and fainter. I still didn’t dare move an inch, paranoid he might’ve pulled a fake-out and is actually still standing outside my door. I sat on the counter, debating his invitation, but I decided against it. I’m not exactly sure why; any other girl would already have been out the door by now. I just had to trust my gut on this.

Later that night, at about 1:30AM, I found myself still awake, quietly scrolling Instagram on my phone. That’s when I heard the loud giggles of a woman outside in the hall, followed by a deep shush, the giggles falling to a quiet mumble as I heard a door open and quickly fall closed. I ignored the sounds, continuing to scroll and catch up on posts I missed during the day.

Some minutes pass by, about 10. That’s when I heard the bed on the other side begin to thump against the wall, a lady slowly starting to moan. The moans sounded different, belonging to another woman. Then, the all-too-familiar grunts coming from Nicholas started to join in.

I couldn’t reach for my headphones to drown out the sounds of sex coming from the other side; my headphones had died just 30 minutes earlier, now charging on the outlet above the counter. Tossing and turning in bed, I burrowed myself under the covers, hoping it would make some barrier, but to no avail.

Irritated, I walked over to the counter, checking to see if my headphones had any juice that I could use even for just a few minutes until I fell asleep. Just as I reached to disconnect them from their charger, that’s when I heard Nicholas’s voice rumble through the wall.

“You’re so hot,” he said, his tone thick with pleasure.

I stood there frozen, my hand still hovering over my headphones. The more I heard Nicholas speak, the more I found myself inching closer toward the closet. My heart was racing, beating faster the moment I opened the closet doors, carefully stepping inside and resting my cheek against the shared wall.

I knew I shouldn’t have been listening in, again, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was this urge that I had to follow through with. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening past the girly moans and searching for Nicholas’s voice. My chest grew tighter, my thoughts beginning to spiral.

“Just like that,” he growled.

Had I said yes to drinks, would that have been me in there? Would I be the one moaning under him instead of the mystery girl inside? My stomach tightened at the thought, frustrated. I’m not sure why I was letting it get to me like that. Maybe because hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But just knowing that it might’ve been me Nicholas said all those things to had I just agreed to drinks… It drove me crazy.

“Say my name.”

My body tensed at his words. Somewhere between spiraling and intrigued by the events happening on the other side, I had closed my eyes, achingly moving my hand to my shorts, slipping it under the waistband. What if I just pretended it was me he was saying all those things to?

I clenched my teeth, feeling a heat bubbling low in my belly as it slowly rose up to my chest. The sound of Nicholas’s voice; he sounded so close yet we were separated by this thin wall. It was maddening. I slipped my fingers under my underwear, grazing them over my damp self. I covered my mouth with my other hand, proactive about not wanting to be heard from the other side just as I heard them.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Nicholas groaned on the other side.

My breathing became deep, my nostrils pushing out all the air that couldn’t leave my mouth. As my fingers found my throbbing bud, I quietly whimpered out, pretending Nicholas was saying those words to me. I rubbed myself in small circles, bucking my hips into my fingers.

On the opposite side of the wall, Nicholas’s groaning had become guttural, primal. The more the headboard thumped against the shared wall, the more powerful his movements had become. At one point, I thought something might fall off the wall from my side of the room.

As I slipped a finger, then another, inside myself, my breathing became erratic. I imagined Nicholas taking me, right now as I am, hard at the thought that I had been listening in on his sexual escapades. Maybe he’d push me up against the wall, cornering me so that I might not escape him. He seems like the type to want to be in control, and I’d be happy to give it to him.

I pumped my fingers slowly, at first, but then picked up the speed to match the thumping on the wall. The tension in me began to build tighter and tighter. I was so close to collapsing in pleasure, but the moment I heard a loud moan escape the woman’s lips from the other side, I was taken out of my imagination completely, remembering that it wasn’t me he was having sex with.

My eyes ripped open, realizing what I had been doing. I pulled my fingers out and collected myself, shamefully walking out of the closet and reaching for the headphones on the counter. I couldn’t believe that I had been pleasuring myself to the sounds of somebody else having sex. Even more embarrassingly so, I didn’t even arrive to a climax, so I couldn’t even say it was worth it.

I climbed back into bed, trying hard to ignore the sounds coming from the other side and slipping on my headphones, putting on anything that would distract my mind.

The next day, I didn’t wake up as early as I had liked. I ended up falling asleep pretty late, almost 2:30 in the morning, which was not my usual bedtime, clearly. But it was 12PM, still enough time to enjoy a light brunch before officially starting the day.

I changed into some loose clothes, making my way down to the café. Even though I felt guilty about last night, I felt ok enough to confidently walk into the café knowing Nicholas wouldn’t be there. Either he’d be too tired from his late night drinking and stayed in, or he would’ve started his day earlier and already had his coffee for the day. And when I entered the area, I found myself to be correct. He wasn’t there.

Comfortably, I ordered the same meal from yesterday, a croissant and a pot of tea, taking my seat at the same table. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Almost as soon as I sat down, the barista came over with my things, setting them down with a polite smile. Tired and hungry, I pulled a chunk out of the croissant and placed it into my mouth, savoring its sweet taste. I enjoyed my first meal of the day calmly and slowly, relaxed to know I wouldn’t bump into Nicholas right now. Maybe I’d have a few hours to myself before I did. But of course, my peace was short-lived.

As I picked at my food, the front door to the hotel chimed. I was too focused on pouring myself the last few ounces of tea into my mug to look up, but I didn’t have to. A familiar presence approached my table, “Mind if I join you?” Nicholas asked.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. He had that oh-so charming smile plastered on his face — innocent, as if he wasn’t the one partially responsible for keeping me up late.

“Sure,” I said, pulling the pot away from my mug.

He pulled up a chair from the neighboring table, sitting down across from me while his gaze flickered down at my half-eaten croissant. “You like taking your time, don’t you?”

I felt a rush of heat creeping up the back of my neck at his casual teasing. He was wearing a faded tee, not from age but one that looked like it had been drying out in the sun too long, his gold cross chain hidden under the collar. I’m sure he looked good in anything he wore.

“Don’t you?” I asked without missing a beat.

Nicholas stifled a smirk, tapping his finger against the table, “So what’d you do last night?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, clearing my throat. Dear god, please let me not stumble over my words. “Not much, why?”

He sharply inhaled, like he was unsure if he should answer, “I had knocked on your door to invite you out to the bar again, but you didn’t answer.”

I stifled a chuckle, shrugging my shoulders, “Why? Were you afraid I was doing something better?”

Nicholas’s fingers played at the edge of my plate, smirking. “I figured you were out walking or something,” he smiled.

“Well, I planned to,” I picked at my croissant, ripping off a tiny piece and placing it in my mouth, “but I ended up staying in.”

“Oh? You stayed in?” He shifted in his seat, thinking about his next words. “Sleeping?”

I calculated my answer. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed about the fact that I could hear him having sex the past two nights. “Yeah, early night,” I kept it short, hoping he’d drop the subject or, at least, change the topic.

I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I didn’t care to elaborate. His presence was disarming enough without dredging up last night’s… intrusive thoughts. Instead, I took another sip of tea and focused on not meeting his gaze.

“So, then why’d you come down here so late in the morning?” He asked, a grin playing at his lips.

I stumbled on my words, trying to find an answer, Nicholas becoming more amused and entertained the more I stumbled. Was he waiting around for me? Did he know his proclivities had kept me up? Did he know I could hear through the walls?

“Lazy morning,” I shrugged my shoulders. He stifled a chuckle, accepting my answer without too much kickback. “What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him. “What did you get up to last night?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Me? Nothing much,” his finger twiddled near my croissant, pushing around the tea spoon next to it, “I had a drink or two. A little company.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thickening. His choice of words hung in the air, deliberate and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing dangling that tidbit of information in front of me, seeing if I’d bite, but I wasn’t going to.

Taking a sip of my tea, I pretended to brush off his words, “Sounds like you had fun,” I spoke casually, keeping my expression neutral.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching me closely. “I would’ve had even more fun, but I had some plans fall through,” he paused, “I had to improvise.”

Oh, the calculation in his words were driving me mad, especially because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of baiting a specific reaction out of me. Was I right? Could that have been me in his room last night if I decided to go out with him?

I set the cup down as calmly as I could manage, but inside, I was shaking, “Doesn’t seem like you had any trouble improvising, then.”

For a moment, Nicholas’s fingers stopped tapping against the plate, that infuriating smirk returning. He leaned back into his chair, amused, “You heard, didn’t you?“

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, but I tried to keep it cool, "Heard what?"

His laugh was soft but full of certainty. "Come on, (Y/N). I heard you watching a movie the other night. These walls,” he gestured lazily toward the ceiling, “are paper thin; it was like I was in your room watching it with you.” He leaned toward me, resting his arms on the table again, “That’s why you woke up late, isn’t it?"

God, I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. It was absolutely infuriating how he could figure me out so easily. But my suspicions were confirmed — he did know, this entire time, and he still decided to have loud sex knowing anybody in the neighboring room could hear. And he had no shame about it!

My face burned with embarrassment, and l avoided his gaze like my life depended on it. "I didn't hear anything," I stammered, lying so poorly I might as well have just admitted the truth. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

Nicholas tilted his head, that insufferable smirk deepening. “A deep sleeper, huh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He rested his chin in his palm as he studied me like I was some kind of puzzle. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“For what it's worth...” Nicholas pushed back his chair and stood, smiling down at me. He leaned down toward me, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "If I'd known you were listening, I might've put on a better show." He took a small bite of my croissant, dusting the crumbs off his hands and making his way toward the door, winking at me before he exited.

Unable to fathom what had just happened, I stayed planted in my seat. Did he seriously just say that? My thoughts spiraled. Was this a game to him? Could he tell just how truly flustered I was by his teasing? Was I really that easy to rile up?

I pushed my plate and mug away from me, hoping to regain some space to avoid feeling suffocated by the remnants of his presence that Nicholas had left behind in his wake. And yet, I couldn’t deny the pull he had on me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, to deny the heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach, it was there. Nicholas was under my skin.

I tried to avoid running into him the rest of the day, to suffocate him out of me like one would a parasite, but to know you’re avoiding someone, you’d have to be on the lookout, on your toes. Every corner I turned, I checked to see if he was there. Every room I entered, I scanned around looking for his distinct tousled hair. On the beach, I hid behind my sunglasses, scanning the shore for the familiar build of him. Finding him nowhere, I relaxed a bit, choosing to free myself and going for a short walk along the water.

I let the water lap around my ankles, rhythmically enveloping them as I slowly walked along the borderline empty beach. I picked up a few shells that caught my eye — only the colorful, unique ones. In fact, I kept walking, walking, and walking until it became evening, the sun setting over the beach, slowly but surely.

I returned to my spot, sitting back and admiring the colors of the sky. In fact, I was so relaxed, huddled under my towel, that I may have yawned once or twice. As I continued to look out into the horizon, I felt a cold tap on my shoulder, turning my head up to see who was interrupting my moment of relaxation. Of course, by now, I already knew who.

Nicholas stood there, towering over me with a pair of beers in his hand, holding one out for me. “Pretty, right?” He asked with a smile, looking out into the purple water.

I glanced at the beer in his outstretched hand before shifting my gaze to his face, the fading sunlight casting an orange glow over his sharp features. I kept my expression neutral, taking the beer from him without a word. He took that as an invitation to plop down in the space next to me, stretching his legs out and taking a sip from his can.

We sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional chatter of distant beachgoers. It was… oddly peaceful, almost enough to make me forget about the tension that seemed to follow us — or should I say, me — like a shadow. Maybe, also, because I was a little sleepy.

“So, did you find what you were looking for today?” Nicholas asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were walking up and down the beach for hours,” he said, motioning toward the small pile of shells I’d collected.

My mouth grew to a smile, cocky, “You were watching me for hours?”

For the first time, Nicholas stammered on his words, and it was a sight I was incredibly amused by. His head fell as he chuckled, maybe flustered that I had finally caught him in a moment instead of the other way around, “Yeah,” he nodded his head, his cheeks pink, “I was.”

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. Watching him falter, even slightly, was a rare treat, one I planned to savor. “I can see why you like pushing people’s buttons now.”

“I don’t like pushing people’s buttons,” he said as he brought the beer to his lips, “just yours.”

It was insane just how quickly Nicholas could turn something back onto you. The admission was so casual, yet it hit me like a rogue wave. I stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or brush it off as a joke, but he simply leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon like he hadn’t just set my pulse racing.

“I’m sure you say that to all your company,” I turned to face the water, sipping on my beer and trying to hide my flushed cheeks. I chose my words carefully, wanting to see how’d he react.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle beside me. “I don’t,” he said simply, his voice drawing me in despite myself. “Only you.”

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking ahead, the way his profile caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows across his features. There was something magnetic about him, and the more time I spent around him, the more I couldn’t ignore it. He was confident, teasing, but there was something underneath, something deeper that made it hard to read him completely.

A part of me wanted to challenge him, maybe even keep him on his toes. But there was another part of me, the part I kept hidden, that wanted to give in to the tension, to see where it could lead. My mind raced with the possibilities, each thought contradicting the last, until I was sure I was overthinking every moment, every word we exchanged.

I cleared my throat and shifted my position in the chair, facing toward him completely. “Indulge me. What makes me so different that you just can’t help but push my buttons?”

He smiled, like he had an answer prepared since the moment we met, “You don’t give in easily, but you seem like the type to give yourself completely once you do.”

Nicholas’s words lingered in the air, making my pulse quicken. It was strange how effortlessly he could unravel me with just a few words. I tried to maintain my composure, but the quiet between us seemed to stretch longer than I was comfortable with. His words felt like a challenge,  but also like a promise. My mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the sounds of him on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of uncertainty I was feeling.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shifted closer. “Really? Because there’s only so much pressure somebody can take before they start to crack.”

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would put distance between us, but his confidence was suffocating, almost intoxicating. I couldn’t seem to gather the words to shut him down. So, instead, I took another long sip from my beer, pretending to focus on the view ahead of me, though my mind was anything but at ease.

His smile widened, “Aren’t you cracking?”

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world seemed to fade into the background, and it was just the two of us, sitting there in the fading sunlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the sudden weight of his words hanging between us.

I cleared my throat, finishing my beer, “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, trying to mask the effect his words had on me.

“We’ll see about that then,” he finally said, his voice low and casual, though I could tell there was a hint of challenge in it.

I was almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn’t help it. Slowly, I turned my head, and our eyes met, the connection between us palpable. My head slowly started to move forward by itself, millimeter by millimeter, toward Nicholas. My heart raced faster and faster, it was practically thumping out of my chest when I realized that he was leaning in, too. Right as I was about to close my eyes to welcome whatever was about to happen, I heard a group of people loudly laugh as they passed by behind us. I quietly chuckled to myself, thinking that may be my cue to leave.

Satiating my dose of Nicholas for the day, I dusted myself off and stood up from the beach chair, handing him my empty beer bottle, “I guess we will,” I said, not too much of a challenge behind my words. I grabbed my chair and looked back at Nicholas with a friendly grin before walking off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I powered through, making my way to my room. The second I entered, I went to the bathroom and stripped off my sandy clothes, turning on the shower to warm myself up from sitting in the cool, evening breeze. The hot water streamed over my skin, washing away the lingering chill from the beach. I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes as the steam began to fill the space.

My mind wandered back to the conversation with Nicholas. His words replayed in my head, their weight sinking in a little deeper with each memory: We’ll see about that.

After my shower, I slipped into a cozy tee and shorts, feeling a bit more grounded. I sat by the window, towel drying my hair, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The calm of the night settled around me, but my mind was still restless.

To distract myself, I turned on the tv, not caring what was on but making sure to keep the sound at a reasonable volume to not disturb Nicholas but just loud enough that I might not hear tonight’s mystery woman moan through the wall.

As the night stretched on, I tried my best to focus on the random show playing on the screen, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every sound outside my window, every muffled thump from the hallway, made my heart race just a little faster thinking it might be Nicholas arriving to his room.

The hours ticked by. I hadn’t heard anything from his side of the wall yet — not a voice, not the creak of a bedframe, nothing. It was almost worse than the alternative. The anticipation was maddening. I half-wondered if he knew I was waiting, if he was deliberately drawing this out just to mess with me.

Finally, around midnight, I heard the faintest sound of a door opening and closing. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure why. I told myself I didn’t care, that whatever he did wasn’t any of my business. There were a few thumps followed by a silence on the other side. I tried to focus on the tv but my ears seemed to be tuned in on what was going on the opposite side of the wall.

Minutes passed, and the silence persisted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Nicholas had turned over a new leaf tonight, or maybe he just couldn’t hook himself a lady tonight. But just as my focus started to drift back to the tv, the silence was broken by a clear, unmistakable groan — Nicholas. I half-expected it to be followed by the high-pitched moan of a woman, like it was both nights prior, but it never came. 

I should’ve turned the volume up, drowned it out, or grabbed my headphones. Instead, I sat there, frozen, as the groaning grew louder — his voice, unmistakable and far too close for comfort. I hated how my body reacted. The heat in my cheeks, the way my chest tightened with every noise, the throbbing sensation between my thighs. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but I let my curiosity get the best of me.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. My rational side screamed at me to stop, to mind my own business, but something about the sound of his voice pulled me in. But the little devil on my shoulder told me that I had already eavesdropped twice before, what’s one more time?

Opening the closet doors quietly, I leaned over the luggage rack and pressed my ear lightly against the cool surface of the wall, listening. The groans continued, low and guttural, accompanied by the light sound of a rhythmic wet slapping, sending an uninvited warmth through my body. It took a moment for me to realize there was no second voice, no telltale feminine giggle or breathy gasp. It was just Nicholas.

My breath caught in my throat. He's alone. The realization sent a shockwave through me, equal parts relief and something else I didn't want to name. He wasn't with anyone tonight. He was... taking care of himself.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as his voice — raw, unguarded, and achingly intimate — filled my ears. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I fought the conflicting feelings that raced through me. However guilty I felt for listening in, I couldn’t pull myself away. I was entranced.

His groans deepened, interspersed with uneven breaths, and I felt my knees weaken. It was maddening how his voice seemed to reach right into me. My lips parted slightly, my breath shaky as my body betrayed me, responding to the sounds with a heat I tried desperately to ignore.

The wet slapping quickened, a whimper escaping his lips followed by erratic heavy breathing. I lost all inhibitions, slipping my hand under my underwear. I exhaled shakily, my head resting against the wall, feeling the vibrations of his voice travel through me. My fingers moved instinctively, slow and hesitant at first, matching the rhythm of the sounds spilling from him. Each groan, each sigh seemed to draw me deeper into a haze I couldn't escape.

My mind was a mess of contradictions: shame, desire, and something more dangerous — an unspoken connection, even if he didn't know I was there. I bit my lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the tension within me built with each passing moment, threatening to undo me entirely.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nicholas quickly whined out, followed by a loud moan.

I slipped my other hand under my shirt, kneading my breast, as my fingers worked my throbbing clit. I felt the rapid beat of my heart as it matched the rhythm of his breath. The heat between my legs intensified, and the sound of his voice grew louder in my ears, pulling me further into the spiral. His groans were rough, almost frantic now, and I could feel every pulse, every heavy breath reverberating through the wall like it was echoing through my very bones.

I tried to focus, tried to pull myself out of this situation before it became something I couldn't undo, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't pull away, couldn't shake the pull of him. I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers rubbing harder against my clit in frantic circles, then moving them lower and slipping my middle and ring finger inside of me. Desperate, I pulled my shorts off me, letting them land at my feet.

My own breathing became erratic, escaping through my nostrils as I tried to keep myself from making any sound, biting the inside of my cheek and shutting my eyes closed as I pleasured myself.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts again. "God... need you..."

The words, the desperation in them, sent me into a frenzy. I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer — a quiet, whimper escaping my lips as I pumped my fingers inside me, pretending they were Nicholas’s. I could feel the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter the more I heard him talk through his pleasure.

A high-pitched groan slipped out of him, the wet slapping quickening even more. I could almost picture him on the other side — laying down in the middle of his bed, shirtless. his legs dangling off as he tugged at himself, his eyes shut as he grabbed at his hair, giving in.

My breath hitched at the vivid image in my mind. It was a dangerous thought, but one that I desperately wished I was there to see.

I could almost hear the strained breath in his throat, as if he was on the edge, about to break. The thought alone sent an electric charge through me, spurring me to move faster, my fingers pressing deeper, matching the intensity of his own rhythm.

"Please," he moaned, his voice broken, raw with need. "Fuck..."

The vulnerability in his voice, so exposed, so real, made me lose all control. I found myself unable to think or reason anymore. I was lost in him, in the sound of his pleasure, and in the dangerous path I was walking.

His voice faltered, his groans growing more frantic, and that's when I felt it — the sudden wave of warmth, the rush of sensation sweeping over me. But just as I was reaching my peak, so was he. Nicholas let out a sound so intimate and raw that it sent a shiver down my spine. Then came a low, guttural groan followed by the unmistakable — my name.

“(Y/N)- fuck!”

It happened just as I was about to reach orgasm, but I was so startled to hear my name that my eyes shot open and I stumbled back from the wall, knocking over the luggage rack below with a solid thud as it tipped over. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor, stumbling to reach for it, but my effort was for naught. A deafening silence filled the room after the loud noise quickly settled. The only thing I could hear was the loud thumping coming from my chest, becoming faster as I realized my predicament.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my body stiff with tension, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. On the other side of the wall, there was a beat of complete silence. I held my breath, waiting to hear something — anything — but nothing came. Not a footstep, not a sound. My mind raced, praying that Nicholas might’ve not heard the ruckus through his climax. Don’t orgasms dull one’s senses?

And then, as if the silence was suffocating me, I heard it. A faint creak — Nicholas’s door, opening then closing with a heavy thud. My chest tightened, anxiety coursing through my veins. I stood there frozen, my legs completely unable to move as if I had stuck them in buckets of cement. I felt every inch of my skin burn with humiliation. That’s when I heard a knock at my door, not light like the day before. It sounded desperate. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. Nicholas knew I was in here.

Slowly, I inched closer to the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the doorknob. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I couldn’t fight the fact that I felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I breathed heavily as I opened the door, clutching at the edge as my eyes fell on Nicholas’s heaving bare chest.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, glistening from the thin layer of sweat that he had worked up. A slight satisfied grin played on his lips as his eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my bottom half as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and lacy underwear.

He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside as soon as the door cracked open, closing it behind him with a deafening click. We stood there, facing each other, the silence hanging thick in the air. I could barely meet his gaze, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. I stammered, hoping to explain myself with a pathetic excuse of a reason, but he interrupted me with a quiet shush, still smirking.

He placed a finger gently over his lips, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "No need to explain," he whispered, stepping closer, his presence dominating the space between us. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, cornering me against the wall, his body heat enveloping me, making my pulse race.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the room was closing in on me with every breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands, so I held them behind my back, pressing them against the wall.

“Were you listening in?” He asked, brushing his hand up my sides before it settled on my hip, my body trembling under his touch. It was everything I wanted him to do to me, and yet, I still felt nervous under him.

Too ashamed of myself to open my mouth to answer, I nodded my head hesitantly. Nicholas's smirk widened, but there was no mockery in it. No teasing. His hand slid to my chin, tilting my head up so that our gazes locked. There was no escape now — no way to hide.

“I hoped you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb traced the line of my jaw slowly, deliberately.

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, and I was painfully aware of how badly my body was reacting to him. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I instinctively parted them, my breath hitching as his gaze softened, darkened. I could feel the tension between us, so thick that I could almost taste it.

His other hand slid around to the small of my back, pressing me into him, the heat of his body sending waves of electricity through me. His eyes never left mine, and I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Nicholas murmured, his voice dark and full of intention, "Did you enjoy what you heard?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my waist, as if testing my response, and I couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible nod that escaped my lips.

Nicholas's smirk deepened, and he closed the gap between us, his lips barely grazing mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating, and the world seemed to disappear around us.

“Were you touching yourself?” He questioned, his hand moving down to my hips, my body squirming the moment his finger hooked itself under the band of my underwear.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting at his touch, nodding my head again. My hands clenched behind my back, the urge to touch him overwhelming. But I couldn't seem to move, too caught up in the magnetic pull between us.

Nicholas's thumb traced the outline of my lips again, the action slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he studied me like I was something he wanted, something he couldn't resist.

His voice was a whisper, low and intoxicating. "You can touch me if you want to." It was a quiet command, but there was an invitation in it.

I hesitated for a moment, but then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand slid up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin. My fingers traced the lines of his collarbone, skimming down to the waistband of his pants before I pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by the boldness of the move. Nicholas didn't give me time to retreat too much, though. With a gentle but firm grasp, he pulled my hand back to his chest, guiding it lower, urging me to feel the hard planes of his body.

His lips parted slightly as he lowered his head, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't be shy,” he whispered again, his voice thick with desire.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I let my hand roam over his body, feeling the heat radiating from him. The muscles of his chest were solid under my touch, his skin warm and soft in contrast. My fingertips trailed down to the waistband of his pants again, this time without hesitation. He didn't stop me, didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, approving sound, his body shifting closer to mine.

The closeness was dizzying. His scent filled my senses, sharp and intoxicating, and I couldn't help but pull him toward me by his belt loops and lean in, my lips just inches from his.

He took charge, his lips brushing mine softly at first, teasing, testing, until the pressure grew, and I found myself kissing him back without hesitation. The kiss was electric, hungry, full of that same tension that had been building between us for days. His hand slid around my back, pulling me closer, as I tangled my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

My body responded to him, betraying all the resistance l'd tried to put up. I felt his hands everywhere — on my back, on my hips, his hands softly squeezing my ass, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough. A groan rumbled low in his throat as his lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses down the curve of my collarbone. I tilted my head back, surrendering to the sensation, every nerve alive, every thought clouded by the pull of him.

His hands slipped under my shirt, sliding along my bare skin, and I gasped at the coolness of his touch against the heat of my body. The intimacy of it all, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make me shiver, was overwhelming. But I wasn't the only one lost in this; it was clear from his ragged breathing, from the way his hands shook slightly as they explored my body, that he was just as desperate as I was.

"Everything I did this weekend was to get your attention," Nicholas murmured against my skin. His lips pressed against the curve of my jaw, trailing to my ear, where he nipped at the lobe gently. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the stairwell. I can't get enough of you, (Y/N),” his voice rough, almost pleading, “I want you.”

His confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. His words, his desire, everything he was feeling was laid bare before me, and I couldn't deny that I wanted him just as much.

"I want you, too, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the raw honesty behind it made his body freeze. His hands paused where they rested on my back, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, as if he was trying to read my soul.

I, however, didn't hesitate. My hands found the sides of his face, pulling him back toward me as I kissed him fiercely. The kiss became frantic as our bodies collided, desperate, as though we were both starved for this connection. His hands moved quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and discarding it on the floor. I felt the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire building inside me.

I couldn't pull away. My body, my mind, all of it was consumed by him. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing lightly over the sensitive skin of my collarbone as his hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of my underwear again. I gasped as he gently tugged them down, his fingers brushing against my skin with an intimacy that made me tremble.

Nicholas was steady in his movements, never rushing, always making sure I was with him, always checking, always asking if I was okay with everything. But there was a fire in his eyes, a need that mirrored mine, a hunger that couldn't be ignored.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. All I could do was nod my head at his statement, ready to give myself to him.

He wasted no time, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking them behind his lower back. The feeling of his jeans grazing my bare center was enough to trigger a quiet mewl out of me. Nicholas groaned at the sound, his lips crashing back onto mine as he carried me toward the bed. When my back hit the soft mattress, I felt the weight of him settle over me, his hands bracing either side of my head.

His gaze bore into mine, his chest rising and falling heavily as he paused, his face hovering just inches above mine. For a moment, everything stilled, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of our breaths mingling in the air between us. As he settled down in the space next to me, propping himself up by the elbow, his free hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. The both of us laid there, face to face.

His lips parted as if to say something but no words escaped his lips, the hand on my cheek slowly making its way down, down. It lingered, at first, over my sensitive breast, tracing slow circles around my nipple. I bit my lip at the sensation, digging my head into his chest as I quietly moaned.

Nicholas quietly giggled, amused to see me squirming under him, as he slithered his supporting arm behind my head and pulled me closer to him. His lips rested on my forehead as he slid his hand further down, enveloping my center. “God, you’re soaking,” he whispered; I could feel his smirk against my skin.

His fingers massaged my throbbing bud, then slipped his fingers into me, his touch deft and confident. I loudly gasped and clutched at his arm, arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” I quietly breathed, nibbling on my bottom lip to bite back my moans.

He smiled, “Don’t hold yourself back. Be as loud as you want,” he whispered as his fingers continued to coax me, his thumb massaging my clit.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, my chest violently rising and falling as he pumped his fingers, I shook my head. “Somebody’s gonna hear,” I stammered out through my labored breathing.

“So?” He questioned, slipping a third finger in. Nicholas's confidence was maddening, his tone both teasing and commanding, making it impossible to resist him. “Let them hear how good I make you feel," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

My body arched involuntarily, my head falling back into the pillow as a moan escaped me despite my best efforts to stifle it. Nicholas was not having it. He quickened his pace, quickly slipping in and out with ease, as his thumb continued to circle around my clit. His lips kissed at my neck, his tongue licking my skin before gently sucking. I turned my head, my hand clutching at the back of his hair as I passionately made out with him, softly moaning between kisses.

I was unraveling beneath him, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My moans slowly became louder and louder, filling the room, and I knew there was no hiding how he was making me feel. The pleasure that I was feeling was so great that I couldn’t focus on kissing Nicholas anymore. I had to pull my head away, glancing down at his hand pumping in and out of me before shutting my eyes and burying my head into his chest again. I could barely find the strength to call out to him, my voice faltering as I moaned out, “Nic…” 

"That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Say my name, baby,” his fingers reshaping themselves inside me to reach further

My breathing became erratic hearing him call me baby, my nails raking across his shoulder as I clung to him, "Nicholas," I cried, louder this time, no longer caring who might hear.

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more precise, more relentless. His words, his touch, the heat of his body — it was all too much. "It’s ok; I’ve got you," he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along my skin. His gaze locking with mine, his fingers never faltering.

His words were my undoing. I shattered around him, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. My cries of ecstasy filled the room, and I clung to Nicholas like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. He held me through it, his embrace steady and reassuring as I rode out the high while his fingers continued to coax every pleasure out of me, slowing to a stop.

When I finally came down, my body limped against his, Nicholas pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hand leaving my core and coming up to his lips. I watched in awe as he licked at his fingers, wrapping his lips around them as he savored every trace of me with a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch. His eyes never left mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine. I buried my face against his shoulder, my breathing still uneven.

He brushed away the damp hair from my face with the back of his pinky, “You taste even better than I imagined,” he spoke softly, his voice velvety.

The weight of his gaze was almost too much, but when I looked into his brown eyes, all I saw was warmth, tenderness, and something deeper that made my stomach ache. My stomach wasn’t the only thing aching, either. The entirety of me did — my hands, my core, my soul. I ached for him.

Desperate to have him at the end of my fingertips, I trailed my hands across his chest, settling on the nape of his neck as I captured his lips in a kiss. Nicholas replied with a soft groan, his hand finding my waist and his fingers delicately digging into my skin. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. My hands wandered, exploring the contours of his back, his muscles taut under my fingertips.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my forehead against his, “I hope you’re not done with me yet,” I whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Far from it.”

He cradled my head in his hand, angling it slightly as his lips moved with mine, urgent yet tender. Nicholas shifted his weight, moving slightly up on the bed, grabbing me by my hips and rolling himself over on the bed as he pulled me on top of him.

My legs straddled his hips, my bare skin brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a jolt through me, and I bit my lip, my eyes locking with his. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping them firmly as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze roamed over me with unrestrained hunger, making my skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hands continued their slow exploration, sliding up to rest on my waist. "I could look at you like this forever."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He met me halfway, his hands tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam, tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath my fingertips. His muscles flexed as he moved beneath me, his hands sliding up to cradle my back, holding me close.

My hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, and Nicholas groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. His reaction ignited something in me, a newfound confidence that made me bold. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Tell me what you want, Nicholas."

His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding my movements as he let out a low growl. "I want you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't hold back the smile that spread across my face. Leaning down, I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of my own desire into it. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips moved together, our breaths mingling as the space between us disappeared entirely.

Nicholas's hands slid down to my ass, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided me to move against him. The friction between us was electric, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin in a way that made me gasp.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N)," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice raw, “you know that?"

I smiled, my hands bracing against his chest as I moved against him, my confidence growing with every reaction I drew from him. "I do now," I replied, my voice breathless.

Nicholas groaned, his hand digging into my skin as he bucked his hips upward, meeting my movements. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing grew ragged. I continued to grind against him, trying to coax out the whimpers I had heard escape his lips when I was listening through the wall.

Nicholas's hands slid up my back, his fingers tracing along my spine as he tried to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyebrows tied together as his lips parted in a quiet moan that sent a rush of heat through me. But it wasn’t enough. I brushed my thumb against his bottom lip, slowing to a stop so he could feel the loss, teasing him with the occasional grind, “I want to hear you, Nic.”

He nodded his head, pressing me down against him as he bucked his hips upward repeatedly, desperate for me to continue. “Please, (Y/N),” he shut his eyes closed as he ground himself against me, quietly whining.

Smirkingly, I obliged, slowly continuing to grind against him. I rested my palms on his tense chest, bringing them down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curled into my thighs the faster I worked, moaning louder and louder.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he threw his head back, raggedly moaning.

Looking at him in such a vulnerable state underneath me after days of having to deal with his cocky confidence, it made my blood rush. I played with the button of his jeans, undoing them and shimmying his pants and boxers off just enough for his hard length to free itself under me. I spit my hand, gently stroking him as I positioned his member at my entrance.

Nicholas let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping me firmly as I hovered over him, teasing him with my slow movements. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and Nicholas’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back onto the pillow again. The connection between us was electric, every movement, every sound amplifying the intensity of the moment. Nicholas's hands roamed over my body, his touch both tender and possessive.

As I rode him, I grabbed Nicholas’s hands, leading them to my chest. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open, he understood what I wanted, beginning to knead and pinch at my breasts. I moaned at his touch, bringing one hand of his up to my lips to kiss his fingertips before placing it back on my breast.

Suddenly, I felt him tense under me, arching his back toward me, "Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice becoming an octave higher, his grip on me tightening. "Please, baby, don't stop.”

I didn't. I couldn't. The rhythm between us was intoxicating, building to something that felt almost otherworldly. My name fell from his lips like a prayer, and the sound sent a surge of pleasure through me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Nicholas's hands fell to my hips, guiding my movements as his breathing grew erratic. "I'm close," he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Come for me, Nic." My words seemed to break the last of his restraint, and his hips bucked up into me with an urgency that sent shockwaves through my entire body.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I —“ His words cut off as a guttural groan escaped him, his body arching beneath me as he came. The intensity of his release sent me spiraling over the edge with him, my body trembling as the product of his pleasure filled me completely, some of the creamy liquid slowly dripping out me.

The aftershocks of our climax left us both trembling, our breaths mingling as we tried to regain control of ourselves. I collapsed onto Nicholas's chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, holding me close as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

For a while, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady rhythm lulling me into a serene haze.

He caught his breath, “That was….” a hint of a chuckle at the end of his words, “That was fucking incredible,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself off of Nicholas, lying down next to him and covering myself with the bed sheets. I thought about what he had said earlier at the beach — I may not give in easily, but when I do, I give in completely. It felt nice to finally be seen by someone who could understand me even after only knowing me for a few days compared to other people who have known me for years and still manage to get things wrong about me.

I rolled over to face Nicholas, my hand finding his. He smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing the back of my hand. A smile curled at the end of my lips seeing him so affectionate, “When do you check out of the hotel?” I asked, playing with his hand.

“In the morning. You?” He asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

“In the morning,” I replied, my eyes flickering up at him to see his reaction.

He was quiet, not saying anything at first, however, he rolled me over and pulled me closer to him, spooning me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll have tonight, then,” he whispered, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and nuzzling his head into the pillow.

My chest tightened at his words, and I couldn't help but smile softly. I rested my hand above his, intertwining our fingers. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Nicholas’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, I stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The remnants of the previous night were scattered around — my shirt and underwear and his jeans and boxers strewn carelessly across the floor, the faint scent of Nicholas's cologne mingling with the crisp hotel room air.

The weight of his big, beefy arm draped over my waist anchored me in place. For a moment, I stayed still, savoring the warmth of his body against mine and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek before I rotated in place so I could admire Nicholas as he rested. 

We were so close that I could count the beauty marks on his face. There was one on his cheek and another on his chin. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. I softly grazed my fingers over the scar on his forehead, wondering how he might’ve gotten it, though I’m not sure if I’d ever find out. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even, and the sight tugged at something deep within me.

I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles that had pressed against me so urgently just hours ago. He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as his arm tightened around me instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open, landing on me before he closed them again for a few seconds, “Morning,” he murmured, smiling, his voice thick and husky from sleep. He opened his eyes again, gazing at me longingly.

"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze despite everything we had shared. His hand slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Are we staying in?” he asked, shifting his body to face me.

I smiled, running a hand through his messy bedhead. "Oh, I wish," I admitted, my cheeks flushing as the memories of the night before flooded back, "but we have to check out.”

Nicholas groaned, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “Don’t remind me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “We should get some breakfast together before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, pushing myself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching my arms. I let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the moment settle on me. The night had been incredible, but the thought of leaving was already filling me with an unexpected ache. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” I said softly, faking a small yawn.

Nicholas and I didn’t waste any time. I changed into a clean set of clothes and packed up my things, my body slowly waking up the more I walked back and forth in the room. Nicholas put on his boxers and jeans and retreated to his room for a bit, quickly throwing all his stuff into a backpack before coming back to my room and helping me carry my bags to the car.

I think I was too somber to say anything, knowing if I did, that a “goodbye” might be attached to the end of whatever I say.

The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable as we made our way to the café, our movements synchronized without the need for words.

As we entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries beckoned to us. The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft rays across the inside. The sound of light chatter and the occasional clinking of cups and forks against the ceramic plates filled the air, but it all felt distant compared to the warmth between Nicholas and me.

He slithered his hand into mine as he led us to the register, politely smiling to the worker. He ordered his meal, a coffee and a Belgian waffle. I was about to order for myself when he interrupted. “She’ll have the Italian crème croissant and a pot of green tea, please.”

I couldn’t help but smile. That first morning in the café, I could’ve sworn Nicholas was so focused on his book that he didn’t realize what was going on around him; I had no idea he was paying attention to me the entire time.

He paid the worker for our food, letting her keep the change, and waked us over to the same table I had sat in both days prior. We sat close, our knees brushing under the table as we picked at our food, the conversation flowing easily despite the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air. After some minutes, the worker came over with our food, and we continued to converse while enjoying our breakfast.

Nicholas looked at me, his expression soft but with a hint of something more playful. “So, at what point are you gonna give me your number?” he asked, taking a bite of his waffle.

I paused, chuckling softly as I chewed on my croissant for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?” I asked confusedly, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heart rate had sped up slightly.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head and smirking.

I laughed, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up,” I admitted, giving him a sideways glance. There was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite place, something between affection and the lingering thrill of uncertainty.

Nicholas’s eyes softened, and he leaned back slightly, his hands wrapped around his cup. “Well, get your hopes up,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “because I don’t plan on letting go of you anytime soon.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart rate quicken at his words. There was something about the way he said it — so casually but with an intensity beneath the surface — that made me realize just how serious he was. And maybe how serious I was about him too.

“Alright, alright,” I said, smiling, trying to shake off the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me. “Let’s trade phones.”

Nicholas’s smile widened, and he handed me his phone without hesitation, his fingers brushing against mine as we traded devices. I typed my number into the phone app, adding myself as a contact.

“Just remember we’re in different time zones before you decide to call me in the middle of the night,” I joked as I handed his phone back to him.

Nicholas laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket then handing me mine, the screen off. “Though I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, but the blush creeping up my neck betrayed me.

We finished our breakfast. Nicholas quietly walked me over to my car. He walked close to me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine before finally capturing it. He leaned casually against the car with his arms crossed. He looked so effortless, so at ease, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, maybe even a hint of reluctance — that made it clear he felt the weight of the moment, too.

We both stood there silently, knowing this was our goodbye. Nicholas uncrossed his arms, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he searched my eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as if to say something. However, instead of resorting to words, he inched his face closer and closer until our lips grazed. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both trying to hold on to the fleeting moment. But then, as if we both couldn’t help it, the kiss deepened, more urgent now, the electricity between us undeniable. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling him closer, while his arms wrapped around me, his fingers pressing into my back as if he wanted to keep me there forever. Though, we pulled away slowly, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. Neither of us spoke immediately, both of us reluctant to break the spell.

Nicholas stepped back, “How about next time you have a free weekend you treat yourself to a trip to LA and come visit me?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his offer sinking in. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden openness of his invitation or the quiet sincerity in his voice that made it feel so real. It wasn’t just a passing comment; it was an open door between us.

“I’d like that,” I said softly, surprised by how easily the words came out.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Good.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as his eyes locked onto mine.

I wanted to say more — something that could make this moment last longer, something to ease the ache already starting to form in my chest. But the words didn’t come, and instead, we stood there, wrapped in silence, our connection hanging between us like an unspoken promise.

He gave me one lingering kiss, brief but filled with everything we couldn’t put into words. When we finally pulled away, he looked at me, as if taking one final mental picture of me standing there, before speaking. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to rise inside me. “You better.”

He squeezed my hand gently before opening my car door and slyly rolling down the window, watching me climb inside and closing the door for me. He leaned on the door, softly smiling, “To be continued.”

I couldn’t help but smile and give him one final kiss through the open window so I could savor his taste before starting up the car. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, to give me enough room to back out of the parking space. I slowly reversed out, waving my hand at him and driving out into the street.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the silence didn’t feel empty. There was something between us, something that went beyond just a weekend. It was more than I’d expected, more than I’d thought I was ready for, but as I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

I don’t think I even left the neighborhood before a phone call interrupted my thoughts. My car’s entertainment screen lit up with the contact name in big, bold letters — Room 5.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I tapped the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey,” I teased, my voice light and playful, though my chest felt warm at the sight of his contact name lighting up my screen.

“Hey,” Nicholas’s voice came through, smooth and familiar.

It was just the beginning.

Continue the story with 'Making Room' here

[writtenapoiogy]

for all eternity; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: vamp!jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: Your wedding night and last day as a mortal.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, nerves, titty suckin, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, this is VERY INTIMATE LMAO, kinda possessive, talks of blood (i mean duuuhhh), ALSO IF IT SAYS JACE DOES SOMETHING FAST I MEAN F A S T, briefly edited cause i wanted to get this out

a/n: HAPPY SPOOKY SZN MFS! the change after her being bit isnt that dramatic cause i think it would've made this less hot 🙂‍↔️ so no pain for reader 😁

for; @earth4angels & @princessvelaryon who were just as excited about vamp jace as me 😁

Jacaerys promised to turn you on the night of your wedding. When the two of you finally became one. You would forever be his— which gave you all the more reasons to be nervous.

He stood waist-deep in the water. His pale skin glistened underneath the moonlight. You admired his toned back and shoulders as you approached him.

Your wedding was beautiful. As the day went on your nerves grew stronger. He had brought you to a secluded island that has belonged to his family for centuries.

You took a deep breath and dropped your towel, exposing your bare body underneath.

Jace turned around, hearing your towel land in the sand. If he had a heartbeat, he swore his heart would’ve stopped. You were exquisite. You possessed a one-of-a-kind beauty. And he had been to every spot the earth had to offer.

You stepped into the water, it was pleasantly warm— even though it was the middle of the night. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You tilted your head at your now husband, a smile etched upon your face.

He reached his arms out to you as you stepped closer and closer to him. “Why would I need a camera when I will have you like this for all eternity?” Once he had your hand in his he brought you closer to him— your chest was flush against his own. His words caused your cheeks to warm.

He looked exceedingly handsome. His wet hair was framing his face, beautifully. A small smile remained on his face which made you want to rub your thumb along his cheekbone. Which you freely did. It was only the two of you until the end of time. Well, at least it would be when he took away your mortality.

You took your hand out of his grasp, and brought your now wet hand, to trace along the carvings of his cheekbones.

Jacaerys leaned into your touch. “You’re so beautiful.” He turned and placed a chaste kiss on your palm.

Butterflies stormed your stomach. Your eyes never left the other. His warm brown eyes were plagued with lust and want. Pure desire. You dragged your hand from his cheek to the back of his head. You intertwined your fingers through his curls and pulled him down to close the distance between you. You brought your other hand to tangle into his hair as your lips danced together.

Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you. His grip was intense. You felt his hard member stir in between your bodies. You let out a gasp against his lips.

He shushed you, deepening the kiss. Jace moved his lips to the corner of your mouth before laying kisses on your jaw.

You had begun to get extremely hot. Your body craved him in every sense of the word. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to sink his fangs into you— tying you to him for eternity.

“Then take me right here. I know you could. Jace.” You whined against his ear. “Make me yours.” You were being bold. But there was nothing to stop you now. He was yours and you were his, forever.

“You are ravishing.” Jace sniffed up the side of your neck. Your scent engulfed him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he pictured the blood running through your veins. He knew the taste of your blood would be something that would never leave him.

One of his arms wrapped around your back when you jumped into his arms. The other shot to your neck and allowed Jace to firmly smash his lips against yours again. He tried to distract his brain from turning you right here. But he knew you deserved better than that. You deserved to be comforted and pampered.

Jace would treat you like a queen for the rest of your time together.

You felt something tightening in your core and you moaned against his lips. He hissed as he felt the sensation of your core pulsing against him and pulled you off of him, steadying you into the water. “This has to be special. Cmon." He began to get out of the water.

You grabbed his shirt out of the sand and threw it on before trailing behind him. You felt butterflies begin to dance within your stomach. Excitement ran rapidly inside of you.

Jace stood by the door as you approached his naked form. “My beautiful bride why do you feel the need to cover up.” He smirked at you.

You let out a yelp as Jacaerys scooped you into his arms with quick speed— a talent you would soon possess. He carried you to your shared bed, bridal style. Once he placed you on the bed, you scrambled to sit on your heels and attempted to pull the shirt down to cover your behind.

Jace placed his hand under your chin and tilted your head up. “You don’t need to be shy around me.” He placed a soft barely-there kiss on your lips. “We will get very used to being uncovered around each other. You are my mate after all.” He said against your lips.

You pressed your thighs together at his words and his lingering kiss, hoping for some relief. “Maybe you make me nervous.”

He let out a deep chuckle and pushed away from you. You took in his frame. His pale defined body. From his arms to his abs to… further down. You felt your jaw drop slightly as you took in the sight of his now flaccid member.

“Now this is just unfair.” Jace grabbed a blanket off the side of the bed. Covering his waist.

You looked back up at your husband’s face, a frown adorning your own, you felt a shift in the air. A bright smile lit his face. A sense of playfulness filled the room. You felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

You fell back onto your butt and leaned down against the bed on your elbows. “Come here.” The shirt rode up your stomach only a little but showed Jacaerys your most intimate area. You spread your legs more open for him.

Jace groaned at the sight before him. He crawled onto the bed speedily in pursuit of you. He let the blanket fall off his hips as he entered your space— looming over you. He caged you beneath him. His eyes met yours. Both of your eyes were filled with desire and hunger.

He pressed his lips to yours in urgency. You opened your mouth, pulling his bottom lip in. Jace hummed against your mouth before opening his against yours— letting his tongue invade the inside of your warm mouth.

None of your kisses had ever been like this.

Love and passion? Yes.

A thousand words said with one kiss? Yes.

But never this needy. He needed you and you needed him. And neither one of you was shy about that fact.

Jace pulled away to allow you to catch your breath. “I want to make this a night you never forget.” He scanned your face. Your eyes were clouded with lust.

You used your legs to bring Jacaerys closer to you. His cock, now stiff again, slid through your already wet folds and you both moaned into the other’s mouth. “It already is.”

Your name fell from his lips covered in lust. “You’ve plagued my thoughts ever since the day I met you.” He leaned down onto his left forearm, freeing his right hand to remove his shirt from your body.

You helped Jace remove your shirt. Your nipples perked in the cold atmosphere of the room once they were freed from the confines of the clothing. You were now completely naked under him.

Jace’s eyes landed on your velvety mounds, “So divine, so so very divine…” He leaned down and kissed the soft skin of your chest. The words that left his lips came out as if he wasn’t speaking to you at all— his thoughts emptied from his mouth. He ran his hand up your side till it was directly under your tit.

“May I?”

You nodded fervently. “Anything you want.” Anything he wanted truly, you would give it to him.

Jace’s hand cupped your breast and he brought his mouth down to the hardened bud. He lapped and nipped at your nipple till you were squirming beneath him.

You were on another level. His mouth was on you. You could feel yourself dripping on his length. You ground your hips upwards to relieve this tight knot that had formed in your stomach.

Jacaerys was quick with his movements. He pulled off of your nipple and brought his hand down to your hips, holding you down to the bed. “You are making this so difficult. Sweet vixen.” He growled.

Your back arched closer to his chest. “Making what difficult? Hm?” Your voice came out in a sultry whine. The effect Jacaerys had on you was altering your brain. “I just need you Jacaerys. Don’t you need me too?”

His brown eyes flashed to a deep shade of red. He adjusted his left hand so that he could cradle the back of your head. His right hand lightly let off of your hip and moved down to the space in between your thighs. Where your intimate heat sat wet and throbbing for him.

A disgruntled gasp left your lips as Jace swiped his middle finger through your folds. His touch was feather-light but it was enough to send sparks of pleasure through your body. He brought his finger to your swollen nub.

You slammed your hand over your mouth and felt a blanket of warmth cover your body. Noises were spewing from your lips that left you embarrassed. You had barely felt pleasure at the hands of Jacaerys, but what a sweet and strong pleasure it was.

Jace removed his hand from between your thighs and pulled your hand from your mouth. “Don’t try to quiet yourself. We’re on a deserted island. It’s just me and you. Okay?” There was nothing he wanted more than to hear the noises he could bring out of you.

You nodded and his hand trailed back down to bring that sweet pleasure back to you. You let your mouth go slack when his thumb landed on your clit and he began to rub gratifying circles around the nub.

His eyes never left your face. He was searching for any sign of discomfort and signs of pure bliss. Watching your face contort as he slowly explored you. Jace was rubbing slow and then he picked up the pace. He needed to see what pleased you— and it looked like everywhere he touched he hit the jackpot.

The moans that had left your lips were the sweetest song he had ever heard. He slowly maneuvered his hand so that his middle finger was near your damp entrance. His member was leaking at the mere thought of your core.

You took in a deep breath as he prodded your cunt. Your eyes flew open and they met his own with an intense stare. Your hand gripped his bicep when his finger finally entered you.

Jacaerys’ own body mirrored yours. His chest puffed out as he took in a deep breath mimicking you. His face got insanely close to yours. “You’re so wet.”

You whined and lifted your head to make your lips collide. Jace obliged and started to drag his finger deeper inside of you. His digit pumped into you at a slow pace and he added another finger when he felt you lax around his lone finger.

Your head rolled back into his hand. He left you moaning from his ministrations.

Jace was entranced by you. By the way your cunt squeezed his fingers. The sounds you were making for him. The way your pulse quickened. He picked up the pace of his fingers pumping into you. You were something so special and you were all his.

Your walls gripped his fingers as you grew closer and closer to your first orgasm brought on by him. “Jace..”

“Fuck.” His thumb found your clit yet again and rubbed rougher circles against it. His thumb and two digits were in sync with each other.

Your orgasm rippled through your body in mere seconds. A sweet cry of moans and whimpers flooded out from you as Jace brought you down from the peak of your pleasure. “Jace.. Jacaerys. I’m ready for you.”

Jace removed his fingers from inside of you and brought them to his own mouth. You stared at him intensely as he placed his fingers, which were covered in your essence, on his tongue and groaned at the taste.

“So divine.” His words were not a thought spoken aloud this time. His voice didn’t even sound like his own. Deeper. Rich. Hot.

He moved so that your head was now resting on the pillow underneath you. Jace sat up and positioned himself in between your legs— right in front of your core. He gripped his cock and leaned back over you, his left arm holding him up.

You looked down in between your bodies when you felt him rub the head of his cock against your throbbing pearl. Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He ran his member through your slit til it met your entrance.

You felt yourself tense and you held your breath. He was bigger than his fingers of course. And though he prepped you, you still knew it would sting.

“It’s okay, my love.” He kissed your forehead. He did his best to reassure and calm you. “Just breathe.”

You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. After a few seconds, your body became less tense and you finally relaxed underneath him.

Jace slowly pushed inside of you. The world crashed around him. “Fuck. You’re so tight.” He kept going til he was fully seated within your cunt. “You’re doing so good.”

A deep mewl fell from your lips once you were full of Jacaerys.

He sat still for a few breaths, letting you adjust around him. His fingers dug into the sheets under the two of you. He was trying his best to hold back. His strength and speed were enough to destroy you in your fragile human state. Jace grabbed your hip with the hand that was just guiding him. He placed sweet kisses on your cheek and down your neck.

“Jace move. Please.”

Jace began his thrusts slowly. Letting you get used to the drag of him. He wanted this to be just as special for you as it was for him. You two were becoming one in more ways than one tonight and he did not want to hurt you unintentionally.

Your moans were louder and more uncontrolled than they had been with his fingers inside of you. You started to sweat more and more. Your body was on fire and the sheets began to stick to you.

Jacaerys hovered his mouth right over yours, he loved feeling your breath along his face as you panted. He sped up the pace of his thrusts— his hips collided against you with a delicious slap. He delved into your warmth. The heat from your body under his. The warmth and softness of your cunt.

Your core pulsed around him and his eyes darted to the pulse point on your neck. He would swear he could’ve seen the blood flowing through your veins. Your delectable blood. Jacaerys’ canines extended from his gums, his fangs now in your view. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I can’t help it right now. I can’t control anything right now.” His hips stuttered. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” You placed one of your fingers onto his sharp tooth. You were quite fascinated by him. His iridescent skin. His sharp-extended canines. “Would it be easier if I was on top? So you don’t have to worry about losing control?”

You saw something flash in his eyes and in less than a second he had you two flipped, and his cock had begun to slide back into you.

Your eyes slammed shut, “Jace.” You moaned. The angle was different— deeper. You rotated your hips in an attempt to feel all of him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is gonna help.” Jace whimpered as he dragged his cold fingers over your thighs then around your hips and up to your lower back. His fingers left a cool sting. Your soft and warm skin felt heavenly beneath his touch.

You slowly started to roll your hips, finding what felt good. You threw your hands down on Jace’s chest when he adjusted his hips beneath you. The head of his cock had hit that tender spot deep within you.

No words were shared between the two of you as you brought you both pleasure. Just moans and gasps. Grinding your hips down on his. Your name left his lips like he was saying a spell.

Jacaerys sat up, changing the angle once again. He wrapped one arm around your back bringing your bodies flush against each other. Your warm skin against his ice-cold— a beautiful contrast. He guided your hips. Doubling the pleasure you both felt. The two of you were very close.

Your mouth was near his ear and you were moaning his name. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten again. “I love you.” You spoke. You kissed the outside of his ear and then down the side of his neck. You placed sloppy kisses in your wake. Scraping your teeth against his satiny skin.

Jace let out a deep groan and his cock twitched inside of you as you bit at his neck. Gods, he couldn’t wait til you had fangs of your own.

You rolled your head to the side of his shoulder when you felt another wave of pleasure getting ready to crash upon you. You offered your neck to him. You knew there was no better time for him to turn you than right now. “Bite me Jacaerys. Make me yours for all eternity.”

Jacaerys brought one of his hands to the back of your head and the other held you tight around your back. He sunk his fangs into the meatiness of your neck. As soon as his teeth pierced your skin, both of your orgasms hit you. His seed spilled inside of your cunt smearing your walls with his essence. His venom was injected into your veins. Rewiring you completely. He had consumed your entire being.

Your blood was the sweetest Jacaerys had ever acquired. He sucked the blood from you till your body ran cold and the pitter-patter of your heart stilled. He released you from his teeth and you lifted your head from his shoulder— meeting each other’s gaze.

Your eyes fell to his crimson-colored lips and you felt your canines extend. You leaned forward and crashed your lips into his. This was hungry and harsh.

Jace lifted his hips back up into you. That was just the first of many rounds you were to enjoy. He pulled away from the kiss. “You ready for more, my fledgling?”

You smiled down at him— your fangs on full display for him to see.

[rae-writes]

⊹ Candles [reversed] ⊹

since it's my birthday, I wanted to do a little special self-indulgence, so here's this! || 2.k || written with poly!Mc in mind + our son Luke

4 am 

Early in the morning, before the faux light has even spread across the Devildom, Mammon is in your bed. He’s pushed his way through your door, half asleep himself, stumbled over and climbed underneath your covers (that he swears are softer than his), and has pulled you into his arms. 

Every year, he insists on being the first person to wish you a Happy Birthday, and if not that, then the first who gets to tell you in person— so he's found that coming to your room before the day even begins gets him his title of ‘first’ and gives him alone time with you.

It’s much too early to be awake right now, so he’s content with falling back to sleep with you. His body is in complete contact with yours and he sleepily swears not to let go because he loves you too much. 

5 am 

An hour later, or maybe even less than, Asmo comes to sneak you from his brother’s grasp, gently hauling your barely conscious frame to his room. He wants you to keep getting as much beauty sleep as you can, but he still wants to start getting you ready for your big day! 

Of course, Azzy’s been planning this for weeks, so he has everything prepared and laid out. His alone time with you consists of him lowering you into the steaming bath and massaging you well, scrubbing your hair and body until you’re squeaky clean and practically shining, before toweling you off and dressing you in the clothes he’d set aside. 

Your skin care is done and your hair is fixed flawlessly, nails cut, filed, and painted; everything is all done up by the man himself and he tops it all off with excited kisses and pictures now that you’re [mostly] awake. 

6 am 

After you’re ready for the day, Lucifer takes over and hides you away in his study, selfishly holding you on his lap as you both drink coffee to get properly started. The drink is as bitter as ever, lips glossy with the remnants of it as you both chat quietly. 

He’s your soft start to the day, the calm before the lovable chaos, and the first born makes sure to whisper sweet words alongside the comforting crackle of the fireplace. His hour of alone time is lazy and physical, because he can’t go more than a few seconds without running his gloved hands over you. 

If anything, he’s unwilling to let you go, but Lucifer knows it would throw a wrench into the day’s layout and cause more fuss than necessary— plus, he has some things to do before tonight, so he’ll let you go with a slow kiss.

7 am

You’re handed over into Beelzebub’s capable hands, ensured to be served with a filling breakfast. He’s more than excited to show you what he, personally, cooked for you (even if there are just a few bites out of some of it). His cheeks are stuffed and a cute little smile is spread across his cheeks as he points to all the things on your plate. 

When  your plate is spotless, and your tummy is full but not too full, Beel guides you on a small little walk around the house corridors to make sure you digest properly. He’s still eating, of course, but his pleased hums are filling the air comfortably, making for a nice atmosphere. 

Your little walk ends at the entrance hall, where he bids you goodbye with a cozy little hug, and a promise that you’ll love every second of your special day.

8 am

With a hand at the small of your back, Satan leads you out of the house and straight to a bookstore, wanting to keep a slow start to the long day. With it having just opened, only the two of you and a few others are inside, giving plenty of room to stroll and browse (and goof around). 

He points out things you’ve had your eye on, new editions that weren’t there the previous visit, or special copies that were for limited time. The fourth born wants at least two books in your hand and a little collectible maybe- or a bookmark. Can’t have too many.

Once he’s spoiled you a little, and after you’ve both pet the local cats outside, he’s reluctantly handing you over with a lingering kiss to your hand, and a promise to read one of your books together soon.

9 am

Levi took his place, fingers lacing with yours, as he raved about a nearby anime store, gushing over the items he saw online that reminded him of you. By the time you get there, you know every section that’s going to be inside, yet it’s still exciting as you get pulled in. 

You both get lost in the cool merch, having to wave your hands over the stands or jump in place to find each other occasionally, but end up staying side by side for the most part, whisper-shouting with big smiles. 

Leaving the store, there is a pretty good sized bag on your and his arm, but he couldn’t be more thrilled about the lightness of his wallet since he got to spend money on you. He takes your bag, and your previous bag, in a promise to tuck them safely in your room, before giving you a location.

10 am 

Waiting for you outside of a small little amusement park is Diavolo, who is positively beaming in anticipation. He’s already got two colorful wristbands in hand, which he latches around your wrist, and lets you do the same to him, before heading inside. 

There are rides of all kinds and he lets you choose each one of them, pointing out ones he thinks you’ll like as you pass. You play a few booth games, getting a pretty flame salamander plushie as a prize, or totally failing and having a good laugh. 

His only request is the photo booth, which you both do two different times, to get a silly border and a normal border. He pouts a little as he walks you out, assuring you’d see him later, before leading you a few blocks back into the townsquare. 

11 am

For lunch, Simeon takes you off the paths and to a somewhat secluded gazebo, where a sweet little picnic was spread out; celestial realm dishes were rationed onto baby blue plates, two shiny cups on either side, with polished silverware. 

The breeze is just right as the two of you eat, chatting and sitting closer than usual. Butterflies go by, and your eyes follow, as you both take turns pointing out different kinds you see and what flowers they seem to like better. 

You take your time neatly packing everything up, fingers brushing and shoulders bumping, before he parts with a, dare you say it, angelic kiss to your forehead.

12 pm

Luke, naturally, is in charge of dessert, promising a light, yet satisfying, treat as he leads you down the sidewalk and into a cute looking bakery. He wants you to save room for the many things that were cooked and baked for your party, so he gets a little pile of oreo balls and other small things like that. 

He holds nothing back as he tells you how happy he is to be spending your birthday with you, how he’s so very glad he met you, and anything else along those lines. He has to get them all out now, just in case he doesn’t get the chance to later! 

The sweet angel is nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he leads you to your next location, waving excitedly as he promises to help make your party one of a kind.

1 pm

You’re actually given to Raphael next, who’s standing outside of a library with that barely perceptible smile on his face. He explains that he wanted somewhere quiet and cozy to wind down with you, suggesting that you shouldn’t do too much before the big celebration. 

The very back corner of the library becomes yours for now, complete with a pretty view of swaying trees. The archangel almost shyly asks if you’d sit closer, loosely holding your hand as he begins reading to you. 

He stalls a bit at the end, toying with your fingers, before telling you that he’ll see you later…but he’d like to do this again, sometime, okay?

2 pm

Hocus Pocus becomes your next destination, Solomon wasting no time in wrapping an arm around you as you browse the store. It’s slow and unhurried and drawn out as he talks about certain items, explaining a few origins, and listens to how your day’s been so far. 

He dabbles a bit in glittery, washable, body paint, joyously painting random shapes onto your skin (even rolling his sleeves up so you could return the  favor). The sorcerer makes it a point to paint his name along your wrist, taking a picture of it, before helping you wash it all off. 

With a quick spell, he takes away any aching your feet might have, or any sort of headache, teasingly kissing at your jaw, before wagging his fingers as he teleports you somewhere new. 

3 pm

A familiar shade of gold greets you as you're sent sprawling out onto the Castle’s floors. Barbatos chuckles and chides Solomon’s delivery as he helps you up, dusting you off gently. He makes sure you’re alright, boldly carrying you anyway, regardless of your answer.

A soothing, palate cleansing, tea spread is set out on the table as he settles you into the chair, pouring it as delicately as ever, before joining you. Instead of adjacent, he sits beside you, eagerly listening to anything you have to say. 

He may or may not cheat time, prolonging his alone time with you just a little, unwilling to let you go now that you both finally have a minute together. He does have much to get done still, however, and with a [deep] kiss, he politely escorts you through one of his portals. 

4 pm

In the heart of the forest, amongst a wave of flowers, lies Belphie. He’s not asleep, but it’s clear he’s just woken up, as he gestures for you to come lay down, offering a peaceful break. 

Instead of star gazing like usual, he settles for cloud gazing, lazily pointing up and whispering descriptions here and there. It’s serene and quiet and, in his opinion, the perfect way to kill time. 

While he doesn’t want to get up, he does at least hug you and nuzzle close in a send off, watching you go, before flopping back down.

5 pm

Mephisto is more than ready, and honored, to be the one escorting you to your big birthday bash. He takes you on the long path through the forest, deciding that if the others got time alone, surely he could have his own slot, too. 

He keeps close, talking about daily matters, continuing to take small detours as you both make your way through the Devildom. His eyes don’t leave your face much at all as he basks in the moment. 

With a grand, flourishing gesture, he officially announces your arrival, and presents you to your birthday party!

6 pm

Confetti, balloons, changing led lights, and glitter are everywhere. There’s a long table with many presents littering the surface, and another one next to it with small party snacks and desserts. Music plays faint in the background, not really needed over the fun and chaos that comes from the party games picked out, or from the karaoke. 

When the time comes, a cake as astonishing as the previous ones is brought out and magically lit up prettily. Voices harmonize as they all sing you happy birthday , none being able to fight the smile on their faces, but…you couldn’t either. 

And as you circled around the cake, blowing out each of your candles, you wished for what you did every year since coming here: to always be able to stay with your boys. 

With cake and presents over, it delves into more chaos as they all argue over a) who you’re going home with tonight (and that it would be no fair if Mephisto took you, since he’d have you alone), and b) if you went home with a group, who’s room you would be staying in (Solomon taunted Mammon so much, you swore he’d blow a gasket). 

Oh, yeah. You loved them to death.

[dwaekkicidal]

Kiss it Better

˚ʚLee Know x Gn!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Minho has a rough day at the company and comes home exhausted, craving your loving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: <1k (~650)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: nothing its just tooth rotting fluff

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: double post because ty for 100 followers :3 also max this is ur fault (AGAIN LMAO) im so weak at the idea of this help

edit: MAX POSTED HER OWN VERSION OF THIS PLEASE GO READ IT

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Not long after his messages, Minho waddles into your shared apartment. Kicking his shoes off and throwing his keys on the kitchen table without any care. You peak your head out of the bedroom at the sound of the front door closing. When his eyes meet yours, you see the deep scowl on his face, but his eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You smile softly and make grabby hands at him before ducking back into the room to start the shower for him. In seconds he’s following you and undressing through the doorway, desperate to get his sweaty clothes off.

You wait patiently on the bed and scroll through your phone. It doesn’t take long for him to return in his boxers, towel drying his hair on his way to the bed. Your phone is quickly tossed to the side and you pull him into the bed with you, watching as he throws himself on his stomach and groans into the sheets. You hold back a giggle at the sight and opt to run your hands down his bare back. He shudders but you can see him physically relax when your hands lightly massage his upper arms. He turns his head to the side, looking back at you as much as he could without straining himself.

“You wanna talk about it? Let me take care of you tonight baby..” You whisper out, the softness in your voice making his eyes shutter close as he nods lightly. You swiftly move to straddle his thighs, placing a kiss on the back of his shoulder and trailing down very slowly as he speaks up. He goes on for a while, explaining how the new choreography they were learning was extremely draining, telling you about the argument he got into with one of the members, and whining about the quality of the dinner he had at the cafeteria. He goes into light details about every other little thing that chipped at his happiness for the day while you trail kisses down his bare back. Your soft hands massaging up from his arms to his shoulder blades and you hum in response to every experience he lists, placing extra kisses for each as a reward.

By the time he’s done telling you about his day, he’s all but a puddle underneath you. Eyes shut and muscles completely relaxed. You back away to sit up, softly dragging your nails up and down his back to keep the attention on him. A wide smile spreads on your face as your eyes catch one of the cutest sights you think you’ve ever seen. Soonie lays next to Minho’s face, licking his hand as he softly caresses his baby. Not far away, Doongie and Dori are laying near each other and sleeping against your pillows. You carefully reach for your phone and take a picture, before laying beside your boyfriend and Soonie.

“Feel better?” Your voice startles him, his eyes closed and breathes lighter than normal. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to respond with a quiet “Mmmg..”

You get up and walk over to your closet to grab a blanket, not wanting to disturb any of them by going under the sheets. You pick the softest one you own before returning. Soonie is gone when you kneel on the bed and you could almost thank him for the chance to be close to Minho.

You lay your head on the empty space left on the pillow and watch as Minho drags himself up to you, shoving his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. Your hands trail through his hair, massaging his scalp softly as he drifts off.

The two of you fall asleep like this, tangled in each other. There’s a quiet “Thank you" and "I love you so much.” from Minho as he finally falls asleep. You respond with a soft kiss to his forehead, drifting off shortly after.

[crushmeeren]

࿐ megumi’s turn! dabi’s version can be found here. again, this is short and sweet so I could focus on editing, but I hope the pacing wasn’t too fast. it’s also softer than I intended it to be, soooooooooo enjoy. :D

⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere (ish?) vibes.

⇢ ⇢ megumi art by saucy britt ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing an oni mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as delusional about him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Whenever someone asks you “hey, what do you love about Megumi?”, well, a plethora of amazing things fill your mind. You could, and would, write love poems about that man for days.

But, there are two quirks of his that you love to mention.

First off, Megumi is truly horrendous at keeping secrets. His apathetic attitude may not broadcast that, but he’s a gossip. Only those closest to him know that it’s his guilty pleasure.

Secondly, if you looked up the definition of obsessive personality, Megumi’s pretty face would be pictured there.

You’re not complaining, no, you’re so in love with your boyfriend it makes you sick. It’s just, for as long as you’ve known him, he’s never had the ability to keep a secret. Not even to save his life. You’re privy to much more restricted info involving Yuuji and Gojo than you ever thought you’d be.

To piggyback off that, he’s also constantly worrying about your safety. He checks in on you often, and he gets this stormy expression whenever you refuse to take his concern as seriously as he wants.

The pathway to and from your work is all but seared into your brain. You’ve walked it alone so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. So you’re not quite understanding why now, of all times, Megumi has deemed it unsafe. You’ve remained unscathed thus far.

And that’s why, when your sweet, obsessive boyfriend began stalking you on your way home from work late at night in an Oni mask and hoodie to cover his hair, you felt…. flattered. Were you creeped out? No. Should you have been? Probably. There’s no denying that the thrill of it gets your blood rushing, and the adrenaline high gives you goosebumps. You enjoy it, for lack of a better word.

Megumi, you assume, is more than likely trying to make a point. As misguided as it may be. When you first saw the masked man the night after yet another argument, you reasoned it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. At that time there was no proof connecting him to Megumi, but you had your suspicions.

When he asked about your walk home that very night, his forced nonchalance raised a red flag for you. Still, you didn’t mention you thought it was him. You did however snuggle close to him and rant about “your stalker”, begging him to protect you. Megumi sure as hell resembled a self satisfied cat when you did.

Afterwards, Megumi ended up pinning you to the bed with your knees touching your ears, whispering about how he’ll kill anyone who touches you. Now he does that each time you mention seeing “the stalker”, on your way home. A win - win, truly.

Granted, you were still wary about whether it really was him or not for the first few incidents. Then he made the mistake of hiding just around the corner of the alley you frequently pass and you caught a whiff of his extremely familiar cologne.

Not to mention you found the exact same Oni mask peaking out from under his bed a few days later. It looked as though he shoved it underneath in a frenzy, confident that it would suffice as a hiding place.

It didn’t.

You pretended you hadn’t seen it, waiting until Megumi went to get snacks from the kitchen before casually kicking it further under the bed and out of sight.

Safe to say, you’ve been allowing this to go on for much longer than you should have. It’s been almost an entire month. You’re curious to know if Megumi has any hunches that you’re aware it’s him, if only because you haven’t mentioned hide nor hair of filing a police report about it. Which would be the next logical step that any sane person would take.

In the back of your mind, you distantly wonder if you should be concerned that Megumi is so obsessed with you that he’s willing to go to such lengths to push you further into his arms.

You end up shrugging it off because you can’t judge him too harshly. You probably would’ve ended up doing something similar sooner or later if he hadn’t beaten you to the punch.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Things come to head one night as you’re heading home.

The moon is bright, the stars are beautiful, but it does absolutely nothing to tame the trail of fire you’re leaving in your wake.

Work had been… enraging, to say the least. Your insufferable coworker had been on shift with you, and you’d seriously rather shove bamboo shoots under your nails than work with them.

They’re selfish, incompetent, a pick me, and you can’t fathom why your management keeps them on staff. Those motherfuckers.

After you had angrily tugged your coat on and gathered your things, you stormed out the door after having a rather heated conversation with your manager. You hadn’t checked your phone all night, and it completely slipped your mind to text Megumi when you left, as you usually did.

About halfway through your fuming journey the light of the street lamps bounce off of something shiny and it catches your eye. Your heart beat falters, head snapping towards the alleyway only to see a figure lurking in the shadows. Peering straight at you. The person is clothed in all black, hoodie securing their hair, but once you spy the Oni mask, you realize it’s Megumi. Again.

You roll your eyes, your only recently fading irritation sparking back to life. You exhale harshly through your nose, stuffing your hands further into your pockets and speed up. You are not in the mood to deal with this. The distance sound of sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as someone walks briskly has your fingers balling into fists.

Normally, the cold blooded thrill of being stalked switches your adrenaline into lust, leaving you drooling for Megumi by the time you get home. But currently it’s twisting into something ugly. The sensation of eyes constantly being locked on you has you desperately wanting to crawl out of your skin. It’s overwhelming, and not in a good way.

You speed up once more, jaw tightening to the point that your teeth may crack when Megumi matches your pace. You’re this close to breaking out into a jog as you turn the last corner to your block, but your ears start to twitch at the sudden absence of footsteps.

You whirl around ready to give your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you freeze when you realize he’s gone. You grind your teeth in irritation because he obviously slipped away without you noticing. Clicking your tongue behind your teeth, you practically stomp past the last few houses toward your shared home.

Megumi better be ready to argue when he shows up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

As soon as you get home you toss your stuff carelessly onto your bed and return back to the living room. Dropping down onto the couch, you sit stiffly, shoulders tense as you perch yourself on the edge.

A part of your brain scolds you, telling you that your boyfriend doesn’t necessarily deserve all the built up rage from the day. Megumi isn’t innocent though, and he does play a part in the chaotic mess you’ve created, so it’s obvious you need to talk to him.

It doesn’t take much longer for Megumi to show his face. The door creaks as it opens and closes, your palms starting to sweat the closer he gets. Megumi calls out to you in greeting, but the silence is deafening when you don’t bother to reply.

Megumi rounds the couch and freezes when he eyes your tense posture. His face is carefully blank, eyes flitting over your figure as he gingerly sits down next to you. You barely spare him a glance, Megumi’s brows pinching in concern as you return your stare to the TV in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His tone is apprehensive as he rests a large palm on your knee, slender fingers squeezing reassuringly. You stiffen under the touch, unable to stop yourself from glaring hotly at him.

“Why the fuck have you been following me?” Your tone drips with venom, the slightest bit of guilt brewing when Megumi’s head jerks back as if you slapped him, lips parting and eyes widening.

Okay, so you definitely didn’t plan to get to straight into it, but evidently you can’t hold your tongue.

“That’s not, I mean —,” he starts to fumble over his words as he tries to come up with something convincing. His fingers dig into your knee and you sneer slightly, shifting to grip his wrist so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“Megumi,” you warn. “I know you’ve been following me. I found the Oni mask under your bed. Tell me why. Now,” you stress the last word and lock your heated gaze with his. His dark eyes flit back and forth across your face as he stays stiff for an ungodly amount of time. Just as the silence is becoming unbearable he wilts in his seat, sighing as his chin touches his chest.

Some of your fury fades when he lifts his head and looks at you with such sad eyes, a small frown on his mouth. Your hold on his bony wrist loosens considerably.

“I just,” he pauses, pursing his lips as he searches for the right words. “You make me feel, okay? Too much sometimes, and I get worried about your safety. I wanted you to see how dangerous it can be for you to be out there alone. I need you to need me, the same way I need you...” he mutters, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he averts his gaze.

All the fight drains out of you, chest welling up with a warmth so intense it burns the tips of your ears.

“Gumi,” you say softly, moving to tenderly cradle the side of his jaw. He leans into it, eyes hopeful as he reaches up to place his hand over yours. “I do need you. You’re the only one I trust to protect me. You didn’t have to stalk me to get your point across,” you say with slight amusement, resting your forehead on his.

Megumi sighs softly, lids lowering. “I wasn’t going to keep it up at first, but then… I started to like the thrill of hunting you down,” he admits, sparking the tension between you. The warmth in your belly turns you gooey as you process his confession.

You hesitate before answering shyly. “I…liked it too.” Megumi’s expression shifts into something more humorous, a faint smirk quirking his lips.

“Oh?” He teases. You bite your lower lip, trailing your fingers feather light down the side of his throat and his breath hitches.

“Yeah,” you whisper, catching Megumi staring at your mouth with a dark hunger. He smoothes his hand up to your inner thigh, inching his face even further into your personal bubble.

“I want you,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You moan lowly, tilting your head to get the perfect angle. Soft lips meet yours slowly, repeatedly, and the slick noise of it makes your pussy ache to be stretched by his cock.

You make out with your boyfriend until you’re seriously debating crawling into his lap and riding him right here on the couch. Delicately, you place your hands on his chest, the soft t-shirt brushing your palms, and you push to break the kiss.

“Go get the mask, Megumi.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s a rush to see who can get naked first.

Your clothes, and Megumi’s, are scattered along the floor of your bedroom. Megumi had eagerly pulled the mask from his back pack, and now you’re in bed spread out on your back, watching Megumi with bated breath as he slips it on.

Megumi has settled on his haunches between your thighs, adjusting the mask until it fits comfortably and covers his entire face. You have to bite your knuckles as he looms over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head while you stare up at him with stars in your eyes.

You’d practically begged him to make it rough, not wanting much, if any at all, foreplay involved.

You gently run your hands down the soft skin of Megumi’s taut stomach, fingers brushing over the thin patch of dark hair that leads to his cock. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, the decent weight of it against your palm turning you on just that much more. His hips twitch involuntarily when you squeeze playfully, slowly stroking as he moans your name.

Too soon he’s snatches your wrist away, causing you to pout up at him. He shakes his head and tugs your hand away from his dick.

“Turn over baby,” Megumi instructs, backing off enough to allow you to wiggle and shift freely until you’re flat on your belly. Your cheek squishes into the mattress, hands resting by your head, and your blood starts to sing when Megumi straddles the backs of your thighs.

The tingling sensation in your fingertips reminds you of the first time you had sex with Megumi, and it’s as if you’re experiencing that night all over again.

Your stomach clenches when a hard cock suddenly nestles against the swell of your ass. The smooth, warm skin dragging back and forth as Megumi rolls his hips for the friction.

“Are you gonna fuck me like this?” You ask excitedly. A sharp swat on the ass is your answer, a startled gasp ringing out as you fist the blanket.

“I never said you were allowed to speak. Bite your tongue unless I tell you otherwise, whore,” Megumi says coldly, spanking you once more to get his point across. You capture the tip of your tongue between your teeth and nod vigorously, your skin already warm to the touch and swelling.

The insult has your cheeks on fire from the inherent shame, but it feels incredible. Besides, you know he’ll be calling you a good girl soon enough.

Megumi shuffles down, rising up to his knees as he uses a thumb to spread your pussy open. It’s a slow press as he tries to work his cock inside you. His tip’s on the edge of popping in but then he slips, sliding down and bumping your clit instead. The jolt of sweet pleasure startles you, causing you to shove your face into the blanket and moan.

“Sorry,” Megumi snickers, but the bastard doesn’t carry an ounce of remorse in his voice.

He readjusts his angle, lining up his cock a bit better and then he’s sinking a quarter of the way into your tight pussy. It burns, you’re nowhere near wet enough to take him, and you think you could cum from the sensation alone.

He rocks his hips and steadily inches himself the rest of the way inside, using rolling motions until he’s pushed in to the hilt. Megumi decides to stay there, cock jerking and applying firm pressure to your cervix.

You hiss on your next inhale, a stab of pain making itself known. The feeling blends with the pleasure of being stretched so well and your pussy flutters involuntarily. Megumi gasps softly, supporting his weight with palms pushing against your upper back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight like this. You were made to take my cock,” Megumi praises, voice rising in pitch when you wiggle underneath him. You whine quietly in agreement, remembering to stay silent, and an approving hum comes from behind you.

Megumi looms over your back, fingers closing around your wrists to effectively pin you to the bed. He draws his hips back and snaps them forward powerfully, pelvis smacking loudly against your ass.

He builds up to a rough pace, the unyielding grasp on your wrist has your fingers going numb. Your boyfriend mercilessly pounds you into the mattress, cock pushing so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You cry out endlessly as overwhelming pleasure swells behind your bellybutton. You struggle to get free, but Megumi doesn’t allow you to budge.

If Megumi is making any noise, you can’t hear it over your own cries. Well, except for the few husky moans that spill unabashedly from his mouth before he can stop them. When you start to cum you shout his name so harshly into the sheets that it wrecks your voice. Your boyfriend curses hotly, slipping his cock free completely and flipping you onto your back before you can blink.

He pushes one thigh to your chest and shoves his cock back into you, his other hand latching around your throat as he leans in close.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking without permission?Are you deaf?” He snarls, the angry, distorted expression of the Oni mask becoming much more threatening in your fucked out state.

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, both hands flying to grip his forearm.

Megumi clicks this tongue and squeezes hard briefly before shaking himself free of your hold.

“You’re sorry?” He sneers, pressing his palm to your face and covering the entirety of your mouth and nose. He completely cuts off your air and your eyes go wide, a burst of panic building in your chest. You can’t fucking breathe. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to me. If you don’t want to pass out baby, you better cum on cock before you run out of air.”

You fist the sheets until you’re sure they’ll rip, eyes rolling back as Megumi fucks you into the mattress. The intensity of the situation and lack of oxygen fills your brain with molasses, ears ringing as your sole focus remains on cumming.

Mercifully, your pleasure starts to crest and peak into that familiar edge, the one that’s similar to the anticipation right before the big drop on a roller coaster. The smooth glide of Megumi’s cock continuously splitting you is more than enough to dangle you over the edge.

Your chest starts to heave, lungs burning as no air makes it way inside. You fumble with Megumi’s wrist, tugging desperately, but he whispers muffled encouragement through the covered mouth of the mask.

“C’mon, you can do it baby. You’re almost there, I can feel it. You’re such a good girl. Make that sweet pussy cum for me and I’ll let you breathe.”

The backs of your eyes start to sting, heart thumping so hard it pulsates throughout your entire body. Your vision swims and your thighs tense, Megumi’s nails biting into the sensitive skin on the underside of your thigh. White hot pleasure suddenly crashes into you, flowing like warm honey. The base of your skull digs into the mattress as you cum with a muffled scream.

Megumi immediately frees you and you gasp loudly, throat like sandpaper as you swallow oxygen the same way you drink water. The sensation of air filling your lungs drags your orgasm out ten fold and you start to push at Megumi’s chest when it gets overwhelming.

“Megumi,” you all but sob, pleading as you stare up at him with glazed eyes. He drops your thigh as he sits up, slipping his cock free with a hoarse groan as he strokes himself quickly. His lean body sags with relief as he cums, streaking your pussy and stomach with white.

He lets go of his still twitching cock, tip leaking pitifully onto the blankets, and pushes the mask off to throw it haphazardly aside. He pants harshly, cheeks scarlet as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair to keep it from sticking to his forehead. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to regain your bearings. You’re sure a headache is on the horizon as you rub your eyes with your knuckles.

The air in your room is humid and stuffy, the only noise being you and Megumi trying to catch your breath. Your boyfriend eventually slides off the bed to find his discarded shirt from earlier. You stay limp as he helps get you clean, Megumi opting to crawl up beside you and lay on his stomach afterwards.

He twists his head towards you and you mirror his position. Your entire being feels like jelly and you sigh contentedly when Megumi rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is scratchy as the adrenaline wears off and sleep starts to seep into your limbs.

Megumi snorts. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who’s half asleep.”

You punch his shoulder halfheartedly and he laughs. “Whatever, can we go to bed now?”

“As long as you promise to take my concerns more seriously.”

“Fine, only if you promise not to stalk me through the streets like a lunatic.” Your eyes drift shut as you speak.

Megumi huffs. “Deal.”

“Keep the mask though, gumi.” You crack open an eyelid to smile playfully at him. Megumi lets out a startled laugh, but he agrees not to throw it away. He snuggles in close and kisses the side of your cheek several times.

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Edit: this tagging system sucks. I just fixed it! Sorry if you weren’t tagged originally!

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multi chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, (major) use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, general horniness

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour or body shape/type

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter 3

The heat is unbearable, the kind that provides the motivation not to do anything but lie in bed all day spread out so one could confuse them as a starfish. It’s hot enough the house wide AC feels too weak for a job this tough and needs to call in backup. The fan that stands alone rotating as it blows cold air through your room is nowhere near enough backup. 

Your skin feels sticky, your hair as far away as possible from your sweaty skin as you melt in the sweltering heat. One more than one occasion you’ve scooped under your tits to wipe at the sweat that has pooled there, coming up with miraculously slick hands. 

Fuck it’s too hot for clothes. 

The summer sun has been working late night shifts as of late, staying out until 8 or 9. As much as you revel in the longer daylight hours, today you’ve decided you hate the sun. You check the time, hoping it’s 3 or 4 in the afternoon already, having decided to forego your phone due to its inefficiency from distracting you from the heat and therefore lost track of time. 

It’s only 12:30. 

You swear softly, in a quick decision you can’t stay still anymore and need to go in your stash to fucking relax. You put on a light tank top and short jean shorts, lifting your hair off your sticky neck into a bun as you pocket your phone, some joints and some cash for an ice cream cone. 

Smoke a joint on the way, indulge on some delicious ice cream then stumble back home for what will probably be quality time with your vibrator. Seems like a decent plan.

When you get downstairs Eddie is lounging on the couch with one leg over the armrest, sunken in the corner as he watches the tv with a glazed look in his eyes in a muscle t-shirt and his long locks in a bun. He seems to share the same sentiment that it is too damn hot. His eyes shift to you as you put on your flip flops, sitting up with loud curiosity on his face. 

“I’m going to go for a walk and get some ice cream, it’s too fucking hot,” you tell him, one hand on the scorching door handle. You hiss, shaking it in a jerk move as you glance down at it. “Ow.”

”Yeah, I learned my lesson the hard way,” he observes, stretching as he stands up, his arms over his head as the lift of his shirt reveals a tuft of dark hair. 

You shake yourself out of it, opening the door quickly underneath your shirt before the handle has a chance to burn your skin again and step out into the blistering sun, putting the sunglasses over your eyes as you reach the end of the driveway. Behind you a set of running footsteps startle you, the slapping of sandals on pavement having you turn to face a set of wild curly hair falling out of its ponytail as its owner catches up to you.   

He’s smiling ear to ear, bearing those dazzling dimples when he sees your perplexed face. “A walk for some ice cream sounds really nice, when I thought about it.” You blink up at him, processing his words and distracted by the sheen layer of sweat on his toned arms. It’s a dangerous automatic shut down on your brain. 

Eddie falters, stepping back as you continue staring up at him, jaw slack and speechless. “Unless, you’d prefer to be alone—“ 

You finally snap out of it, almost swinging to grab his hand out of pure reflex. “No, um, it’s just a bit of a walk and I was gonna take my time and uh…smoke for a bit.” God, that sounded terrible.  

His eyes light up, his wild grin back on his face in a flash. “A joint and ice cream? Now that’s a hot day.” He starts putting his hair back into the ponytail, a god damn scrunchie, starting ahead as you stand dumbly on the driveway. ”Now you wouldn’t mind turning this into a blunt rotation would you?” 

Are you kidding me? Like are you actually fucking kidding me? 

“I only got two joints,” you hold them out from the stash in your bra apologetically, as you pretend to hesitate in accepting his offer. 

He yoinks one out of your hand, lighting it in a flash. “Joint’s a joint,” he states, warbled from the blunt in his half open mouth. He closes his eyes as he takes a big inhale, bliss taking over his face as it hits his lungs. “Oh that’s some good shit.” He passes it to you, clearing his throat. “Who’s the dealer these days, because that did not come from a dispensary.”

“How—“ you stop at his raised brow, grinning around the joint as you take your first inhale. God, that hits the spot. “Right. It’s some kid named Mickey. Mickey…Carver, I think.”

Eddie's fingers brush against yours as he takes it back, looking pensive as he breathes it in. “So you’re telling me that Jason Carver's son is the new dealer?” He breathes it out, grinning maniacally. “Fuck, that’s poetic.”

You’re about three doors down already, but you’re already feeling it. Usually you take much more time between inhales, not wanting to be stoned in the convenience store. It’s at least another three blocks away. “Right…I forgot his dad is the mayor. I think he’s like the black sheep of his family.” 

“Oh, sweet justice,” he mutters, yet you find yourself having no interest in the context. “Would your dad happen to know about this little past time of yours?” 

You take another inhale of the joint, absorbing the ache in your lungs for a moment longer than you usually do. “I don’t know if he does.” You shrug, stumbling past one of the sidewalk cracks. “I’m not all that covert about it.”  

“How much he smoked in college, I don’t think he’d care,” Eddie comments, chuckling. 

You stop, staring at Eddie with your mouth half open. Eddie is yanked back, tugged by his hand on your wrist. Huh, when did that get there? “You okay, there, sweetheart?”

You’re so fixated on your dad smoking you don’t even have time to process his use of the nickname. “My dad smokes pot?” 

Eddie bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling shut as he throws his head back. “Your dad has absolutely smoked pot, sweetheart. Only every time he comes to see us in concert.” 

Yet another thing that short circuits your brain, staring at him as if he grew a second head. “When has my dad seen you in concert?” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide, his laughter stopping almost altogether. “Oh shit, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that,” he mutters, seemingly fixated on the bushes right next to the house you’re standing in front of. 

“When does my father come see you in concert?” You glare, stepping forward more into his personal space with your hands arms tightly crossed. 

“Every tour since you were born?” He answers, giving you a weak smile as he grimaces. 

“What!?” You bark, tightening up your crossed arms. “Every concert? You’ve been going on tour consistently for the last 22 years!”

He throws his hands up in surrender, smoke floating up from the last remaining bits of the first joint still between two fingers. He holds it up for you, face just a bit cautious as he says, “You look Iike you need this.”

You yoink it from his fingers, taking a deep enough breath to kill the joint up to the filter. You’re not sure if its the company, the heat, or the weed, but this news really threw you off, and yes, you really needed it. The filter lands on the ground when you flick it, mindlessly pulling out the next joint and your own lighter from your bra.

As the end glows in amber, you take another deep inhale, forgetting Eddie’s still only a few feet away in front of you. You basically accidentally shotgun him. You pass it to him, seemingly completely unfazed by the puff of smoke you just blew in his face. 

You jerk your head, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to be going for a walk. “Walk, we’re supposed to be walking,” you mumble to yourself, stepping away from Eddie as he laughs out a cloud. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, startling you as you continue on the scorching pavement. You haven’t even hit the first crosswalk, yet and you’ve gone all fuzzy. You jerk your head back in surprise, turning your head to look up at him inquisitively. 

“Sweetheart, you’re drifting,” he answers, using his wrist to fix your diagonal gait. “I think you’re very stoned.” 

“It’s possible,” you muse, allowing the overwhelming scent of his cologne to float to the back of your mind. If it was the first thing, it would be the only thing. 

The conversation quiets down for a bit, Eddie still keeping you somewhat steady as he continues to pass you the joint back and forth. 

You’re in the middle of a mental spiral, thoughts coming and going, passing through like thoughts on a road until one particularly flashy thought passes by. “I had no idea he was going to your concerts,” you chirp out of nowhere, waiting for the light to indicate you can cross. 

“To be fair it's not the best place for a kid,” he mutters, trying to make you feel better. 

“‘M not a kid,” you deadpan, smoking a little bit of the last of the second joint. 

“Compared to me, yes.” You glare at him, wanting to wipe off that stupid little smug grin off his face. “Regardless I’m sure your dad just needed some time off. He’s a single father of four kids, for Fuck’s sake.” 

“I didn’t tell him to knock my mom up four times,” you mutter to yourself, earning another scoff from him. 

“Wow, your filter is down, huh?” He chuckles, leading you across the crosswalk and towards the convenience store. “Don’t give your dad a hard time, he’s trying his best.” 

You wanna move on from your dad so you’re no longer feeling guilty as you stare at his toned arms.  Like, right now. Your eyes fiddle around the sidewalk, looking for any suitable topic of conversation. Anything. A chorus of laughter fills the air, your attention snapped to it immediately. As soon as you see the culprits, you blanch in disgust, jerking your attention back as you approach the convenience store entrance. 

“Oh, god, gross,” you groan, stumbling as you push the glass door open. 

Eddie trails a few feet behind you, leaning down as he asks, “Wh-what just happened?” 

The repetitive motion of ice cream scooping hypnotizes you, catching you in a trance until Eddie bumps his hip into yours. “Hmm?” 

“Outside. What was that?” He asks, pointing towards the door. 

Oh, right, that. “Oh, my ex boyfriend,” you explain, wondering if you’re swaying on your feet or if the store just turned into a boat all the sudden. “Two years of my life I’ll never get back.” 

“Which one was he?” He asks, putting one hand on your shoulder to steady you again.  

If he were anyone else, you’d shrug him off, literally and metaphorically, offended at their need to ‘take care of you,’ so to speak. But your lowered inhibitions and inexplicable draw towards him allow the words to free flow out your mouth. “The idiot with the Oakley sunglasses hitting on what is probably the youngest girl he can without getting arrested— ooh they have cookie dough.”

Eddie chuckles, one hand on your shoulder as he pushes you forward. “They called for you about five times now, sweetheart.” 

Oh, oops. 

The teen with braces and her hair in braided pigtails, clearly working as a summer gig, looks annoyed as you stumble forward. “I um, want one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of cookies n’ cream in a chocolate covered waffle cone, please.” 

As she gets to work, pulling on gloves for what is probably the thousandth time for the day, reaching up for a cone off where they sit stacked Eddie leans in to say, “You know that’ll melt by the time you get home, right?” 

You watch the girl scoop the ice cream, your grin growing wider with each addition of ice cream. “That makes it all the more fun to eat,” you smirk, biting your lip playfully. 

The teen, Emma, you hazily notice from the name tag, holds out the cone with a measly single thin napkin. You have the foresight to understand the single napkin won’t be enough, but not to grab more. 

You dig in humming as the first taste of cookie dough has a perfect little chunk of doughy goodness as Eddie orders a chocolate and vanilla soft serve swirl. 

In mid bite you cough, almost exaggeratedly looking back and forth between your ice cream and the soft serve coming from its machine onto the cone. “What?” He asks, rocking on his heels. 

You take another taste, “Nothing,” taste, “just,” holy shit this is good, “um…”

“Just…?” 

He interrupts a rather delicious lick, eyes closed as you tilt the cone for a better angle. “Wha?” 

“Oh, my god, thank God Steve’s out of town, or he’d kill me,” Eddie chuckles, grabbing the cone from Emma. 

”Why?” You ask, the ice cream remaining on your lips as you take another bite. 

“Because you are outrageously stoned- here you go, sweetheart,” your bottom lip pouts out at the use of the nickname toward the blushing teen, crossing one arm across your stomach as the cash register dings. 

You have half a heart to thank him for paying, glad you wouldn’t have to hand over sweaty underboob cash as you start your way out when you hear your name, vaguely, then loudly. Oh god. You are not prepared to be hounded by—

“Andy!” You grimace, wiping some excess dessert from your jaw. “Hi! You here on break?” 

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, that same old cocky look smeared on his face. On Eddie it’s charming. On Andy it’s nauseating.  “I dropped out in the first semester. I did not need to stay very long to know I know more than any of those pompous assholes.” 

Hmm. You’re astounded. At his gull and that he knows what pompous means. “Guess all that talk about getting out of Hawkins was just talk,” you mutter, sloppily taking another bite.  

You must’ve mumbled, as Andy leans in like he has no idea what you’ve said. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, missing Eddie glowering at him over your shoulder. 

“Well, now that you’re in town,” he starts, brazenly grabbing you by the elbow, “what do you say we take some time and uh, revisit old times, yeah?” 

You jerk your elbow away from him, your face squishing up at disgust by his sleazy voice suggesting you lie under him one more time for a rousing, unsatisfying round of mediocrity. “Ew, I’m good.” 

“Now don’t be like that, pretty peach,” you always hated when he called you that, the reminder sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the ice cream itself. “What’s one more night?” 

Only now do you realize he’s only tightened his grip on your elbow, ice cream in your other hand nearly forgotten as the hair on your arms rise. Eddie pops up, the memory of his prescience and the terror that takes over Andy’s face both send a rush of relief right through you. 

“Take your slimy little hand off her, you pathetic little weasel,” Eddie’s voice is rough and assertive, the soft serve ice cream miraculously held stable in his other hand as he starts to bend the arm that was on your elbow unnaturally backwards. “She said ‘ew, no’”

”Ow,” Andy’s once bravado is turned weak, wiggling like a worm on a hook as he cries out his little yelps of pain. “Okay, okay!” 

“If I want unsatisfying and awful sex, I’ll let you know.” Hmm, you glance back down to the cone that melted only the littlest bit, the top layer now softened and flowing down to the chocolate covered crust.You take a bite from the chocolate, the mix of cookie dough flavour with the chocolate exactly what you had in mind the whole walk over. ”Get lost, Andy.” 

You feel Eddie close behind you as the sweltering sun welcomes you, a town wide sauna you don’t think you’d ever be so glad to walk into after being engrossed in a fridge temperature. “God, if never see Andy Lewis again, it’ll still be too soon, fuck that creep.” 

“You dated him? For two years?” Eddie asks incredulously, having already eaten a chunk of his sweet tasty treat. 

“Low self esteem and a parade of gaslighting would have you believe that he was the best boyfriend ever,” you sweetly smile, squinting your eyes as you take yet another bite of the cookie dough starting to blend with cookies n cream. As the blend explodes your taste buds, some trails down your fingers messily in the hot sun, completely rendering your soaked napkin useless.   

His eyebrows furrow, giving you a look of what you assume can only be pity for a girl who thought that was a good boyfriend and had minuscule self worth until some dude in her freshman English class begged to eat her out. You still go to those receipts when you need the confidence boost. 

Unfortunately for you, when you’re stoned and the very idea of sex crosses your mind, it sends you down a spiral. The unsatisfying sex with a gross sweaty Andy isn’t the thing that set it off, but the first time your legs shook certainly turned the faucet on. Next to you, Eddie takes your silence in stride, allowing you to float in your own hazy brain as he works to finish his cold treat before it disappears at the unforgiving hands of the blistering heat. He’s seemingly lost in the taste, the desert already down to the hilt of the cone as his tongue scoops, disappearing as he focuses on the flavour.

The drop of ice cream splashing your toe alerts you of the multiple trails of cream coloured sugar, your ice cream starting to resemble soup. Dammit. You start cleaning up your hand, quickly stroking your tongue down your hand as you attempt to grab control of the situation at hand. Your hand remains sticky as you move on to the ice cream soup that has cultivated in the chocolate shell, no more semblance of where cookies and cream started and cookie dough ended. No matter, guess it’s just a melted milkshake at this point, you shrug, starting to drink, grateful you haven’t eaten much of the cone yet.  

Eddie starts slurping a little louder as he gets to the end of his soft serve, a noise you allow to simply exist in the background like white noise as arousal seemed to steadily pool deep in your gut. At this point you’re not sure if it’s the extra joint or the attraction you know better than to act on but his exuberant wet noises and grunts of satisfaction seem loud, flooding your ears until it’s all you can focus on. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn shorts, the arousal having surely made its way down your thighs and past their frayed edges right below your ass. “You that stoned or did your ex boyfriend just spook ya?” 

You blink back to Eddie, chewing on the last few bites of the chocolate cone. It's sadly not the same without the last little bit of ice cream tucked in. “Hmm?” 

He looks at you pointedly, raising his brow as he starts to brush the hair out of his eyes, fixing the wisps of black bangs. 

“Oh,” you giggle, the sentence finally registering. “I forgot I ran into Andy, honestly. I’m just super stoned and really need to—“ you cut yourself off, swallowing what is suddenly a very hefty case of cotton mouth, “take a shower,” you amend, ignoring Eddie’s intense stare. 

It could’ve been intense, but the more you focus on the ever increasing need for friction, the more you grow increasingly aware of everything he’s doing. 

“I just smoked a lot more and a lot faster than what I’m used to,” you mutter, fidgeting with your bun, at this point a mess of strands. 

Eddie leans in close, using his pointer and middle finger to lift your chin up to face him. He’s much closer than you expect, able to see the finer details on his face even the most HQ photos couldn’t reveal. You blink, suddenly unable to remember the basic function of breathing. 

“Next time don’t push yourself too hard when you know your tolerance isn’t as good as the person you’re smoking with. You could’ve told me.” Strange, he doesn’t sound disappointed, not in you, anyways. Just at your flagrant disregard for your own limits. His voice is smooth, yet demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“O-ok,” you stutter, thinking about the pads of his two fingers against your skin, picturing him taking the pointer and shoving it past your lips. The mental image quakes your knees. God you should’ve known your body would react this extreme to Eddie, weed has always been a catalyst for raging lust. 

Unable to handle the eye contact for much longer, you rip your chin out from his grasp, recognizing the shrub you usually walked past on your way to school.

“I-I really need that shower,” you mutter, walking ahead of him to the long, windy driveway leading up to the Harringtons. Eddie’s flip flops smack against his heels step by step steadily behind you as you open the door, remembering Eddie’s haste as he tried to catch up to you. 

He says nothing as you rush up the stairs, slamming the door behind him as he saunters into the living room to fool around his guitar. 

The blasting air conditioner should be refreshing after spending an hour or so in the hot blazing sun with no water, but it does little to off-set the raging fire coursing through you. Your face feels hot, stretching to scratch an itch you know can only be scratched one way when you're as blitzed as you are. 

It’s one thing to picture him when he’s a million miles away in LA or on covers of magazines, but its another entirely when he’s right downstairs after a walk in during which he defended your honour. 

You switch back to it, his commanding tone and demonstration of strength as he so effortlessly pushed a boy whose name you don’t even want to think about in this cloud of overwhelming desire. You open your eyes, standing in the middle of your room, the weight of your hand trailing over your skin suddenly heavy but doing its job all the same. 

You kick off your sandals, having forgotten to at the front door. The shorts and thong come off as well, having no patience in teasing yourself as you normally do. Your head meets your pillow, legs spread as you start to make yourself comfortable. 

As soon as your core meets the air the stark realization of how wet you are sinks in, the arousal slick down your thighs at this point ready for something more… You feel the sharp exhale deep in your belly, rolling over you in an impatient wave begging for some kind of relief. 

As your fingers start to roll across your clit, you gasp in how wet you are. It usually takes a vibraor and some self teasing to get this far, Jesus. For some reason the fingers aren’t doing enough, whining needing as you attempt to get the friction you so desperately need. 

As two fingers slide through the weeping, begging hole you grind the heel of your hand against your clit, desperately lifting your hips up to meet it. Right now you don’t even have to picture him doing anything particularly dirty like his hips rolling against yours as he fucks into you or his pretty brown eyes peering up from between your legs. 

No.

Just the demonstration of his strength as he so easily yanked the asshole’s arm back and his commanding, harsh tone was doing it for you. His sun-kissed skin, the halo of bright yellow sun surrounding his curls, his toned arms…his lips so close to yours, that was enough to get you halfway there. 

And loud enough for any potential wandering ears. 

-

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She might get juicy next ch

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I post each part every Thursday!!

[xazse]

AFAB!GOJO X MALE!READER

Hello this is just a shitpost before I go to sleep I’ll edit everything in the morning! Enjoy

NASTYYY SMUT!!!! AND VERY MEAN READER! AND CAR SEX I HOPE YOU GUYS GET THE PICTURE OF THE POSITION I SWEAR ILL EDIT IT TM!

Satoru sleeps with his fair share of women and men, even going as far as to spend the night to satisfy their need for something romantic, but by morning he’s out the door, not caring what happens to said person, he let it be known from the start all he wanted was a quick fuck. Not his fault they confused it for something else.

People around campus who have slept with Gojo can say the night is full of bliss but the morning they’re left with an empty feeling, he really is the best and the worst thing to happen.

So why does Satoru find himself infatuated with you? You who treats him like he’s nothing but an eyesore, it drives him crazy when you deny his advances, no one’s ever denied him: he’s just too pretty for that! You’d have to be crazy to not want to lay with him! Borderline insane! But you, you spark something within him, a primal lust.

When he finally does get you to come around you’re mean, extremely mean: parking behind an abandoned building and position satoru to where the back seat door is open with you standing outside and him laying against the seat with his lower body out the door, it’s super cold out tonight and he regrets wearing the thinnest shorts with no underwear underneath, but all the better to feel the thick outline of your cock as you press yourself against his folds.

“No panties? You’re so gross Toru.” You grumble out whilst looking at his already wet cunt, your fingers dip in and he groans, he likes the thickness of your fingers it makes stretching him out to be so much easier, one fingers turns into two then that turns into three. When you deem him good enough for you, he hears your belt clinking and a loud sigh departing from your lips.

You pull his hair and angle his head back: “You’re average at best Toru, you should be happy I even gave someone as desperate as you a chance, remember I’m only doing this out of pity” you grunt out, Satoru has no feelings for you but he feels his heart clench and disperse at your words. You let him go to focus on lining your fat cock up with his hole, the stretch stings to him, what you “lack” in length you really make up for thickness, most likely the thickest he’s ever taken, you don’t offer him any reassurance when your cock pushes deeper and deeper.

Till you finally bottom out inside, you take a quick pause to admire him, you can’t see his face but already you knew his lips are bitten red, most likely on the verge of crying, you’re so incredibly mean.

You begin to move your hips, starting off slowly, you make sure to pull all the way out and slide right back in, eventually you start slamming into him roughly, uncaring of his startled gasps as he struggles to adjust, your cock feels so good, hitting so deeply inside of him, it’s really a different story when you find his sweet spot and press the tip of your cock against it.

His legs lock inwards, breathing hard into the seat, “This it Satoru?” He can hear the devilish smirk hidden in your voice, you continue to slam your hips against him angling downwards. “so..good” he had managed to slur out. He finds himself trying to paw away from his impending orgasm, he knows it’s gonna ache, knows it’s gonna also feel blissful, your hands grip his waist tighter, meaning to leave ugly bruises later. Pounding into him deep strokes makes him crazy, to add fuel to the fire your hands reach down and circle his clit rough, this action pushes Satoru over the edge and his pussy spasms around you.

He damn near screams, fingers digging deep into your seat, you fuck him through his orgasm, not long after you follow right after him, not even bothering to pull out, he doesn’t ask you to either.

Satoru slumps against your seat, panting and trying his hardest not to fall asleep, he feels your fingers spreading his pussy to admire your work of art.

“Your friend? What’s his name…? You know the pretty one with the long black hair?” Satoru feels his heart drop.

[kitsuga]

Meticulous. {Asmodeus x Reader/MC}

Description: 

A fic in which doing MC’s hair turns into something intimate for Asmo. 

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Tags: fluff, asmo doing readers hair, kissing, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, asmodeus/asmo x reader/mc, obey me!/obm/om, asmodeus/asmo

Word Count: 742

A/N: Written on: May 16, 2021 

I! Just! Wanted some cute Asmo especially since I just keep having only angst ideas for him, the poor boy I promise I love him lmao; short but sweet!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Ow!” 

“If you sat still darling, it wouldn’t hurt.” Asmodeus leaned forward close to their ear, the mixture of his smile and his breath tickled their skin. “Would you like me to kiss you better?” 

“Don’t you mean kiss IT better?” 

“I know what I said.” 

Asmo fixed his posture, his delicate hands deftly working, weaving, one bundle of hair over the other into a tight, intricate design. He hummed to himself, a smile on his face, while he ignored their outbursts every now and again that he had pulled their hair a bit too much. It was a calming action, sitting in (mostly) silence with them sitting between his legs; they spent their time scrolling through their D.D.D., stopping now and again to show Asmo some post on Devilgram that caused him to rant and rave about whatever the picture was of. 

It was fun to play with MC, dressing them up as though they were his own personal doll—but this was different, this was something much more... intimate, than that. It was easy being with them, no need to push to be center of attention because MC’s eyes were always only on him. In his room, in relative peacefulness, he can rest easy knowing their energy, time, and anything in between were all for him; their smiles, their touches, all of it was his and it made him feel as though he were the only one in the world. He wanted to be the only one in their world. 

“Asmo, stop—ow!” 

“I warned you to quit moving!”  

Their hair was so fun to play with; it was calming, really. The pattern of the movements he had to make to braid along with the fun of running his fingers through their hair made him feel like he could close his eyes and do it all day long. One strand here, another there, a quick tie off then he gets to go in for another few strands—the mundane actions that normally would frustrate him brought him a lot of joy so long as they were involved.  

He looked over their shoulder at their phone once more, seeing a text from one of his brothers, asking MC for their time. He pouted, hoping to keep them around for the rest of the night. He tugged a bit on their hair again. 

“Okay-- ouch! Asmo!” they waved his hands away from their hair, leaning their head back so that they could look up at him. “No more, we’re done for the night.” 

“Aw, but my love--” 

“Nope. You’re going to yank my hair out at this rate. We can call it a night—Satan wants to watch this show--” 

Asmo jutted his bottom lip out, gently holding the sides of MC’s face before they moved to leave. Looking down at them, upside down, it was hard to read their face but Asmo didn’t mind. He wanted them to stay and that’s what mattered to him. A soft kiss to the tip of their nose, one to their forehead, and a few to their eyelids that fluttered shut as he leaned in; his voice came out like honey, the hushed tone tickling their face. 

“Can’t Satan record it? I was really hoping that you’d stay.” 

“Well--” 

A few more kisses to their face; the apples of their cheeks, underneath their eyes, barely ghosting their lips. He pulled back a bit to look into their eyes, his face screamed pleading more than it did pout anymore. 

“Please?”  

They looked lovestruck; he could feel the heat in their face, their half-lidded eyes drunk with love that screamed ‘kiss me’ focused only on his lips, their teeth just slightly tugging on their own bottom lip. The very look caused Asmo’s heart to race, his pulse growing rapid—he was sure MC would feel it as their hands wrapped around his wrists. The smile on his face grew devilish as they gave a slow, slight, drunken nod.  

“Yeah... okay. I’ll stay.” 

He smirked against their lips, his hands now moving down a bit to ghost over their neck, feeling them shiver a bit as they let themselves relax completely in his lap. He kissed them gently—to tease—and let his fingertips dance just underneath the edge of their shirt. Asmo giggled before kissing them over and over again, speaking softly in between. 

“Oh good--I can show you just how meticulous my hands can be.” 

[sluttywonwoo]

randomly gifting seungcheol like a photobook basically of pictures of you that are all suggestive (some way more than others) but it starts out with nice and cute pictures of you guys for the first few pages

since it’s his birthday… (edit: since it was his birthday)

“baby.” seungcheol pouts up at you from where he’s sitting on the bed, hands smoothing over the cover of the book he’d just unwrapped.

on the cover is a picture of the both of you, taken by dk on a night you were all out together. you’re sitting on seungcheol’s lap on a park bench underneath a big oak tree adorned with twinkling lights. he has his arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. it’s your favorite photo of the two of you and you’ve been wanting to get it framed for a while so putting it on the cover of your boyfriend’s birthday present seemed like an obvious choice.

“i know it’s kind of cheesy…” you say shyly.

“no, it’s perfect. i love it.” he reaches out for one of your hands to squeeze. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.”

you spend the next few seconds looking at each other like lovesick idiots before your impatience gets the better of you and you ask, “well, are you going to open it or what?”

he clicks his tongue. “just give me a second!”

“you’ve had several seconds! just look through it already!”

your boyfriend chuckles but gives in, making a big show of flipping open the cover. there’s a sweet note on the inside that had been photocopied to match your handwriting. seungcheol reads it to himself and then flips the page. he takes his time looking at every photo, likely letting the memory of each wash over him like you had when you picked them out.

there are pictures from dates— to the museum, to local restaurants, to bars… pictures of trips you took together, pictures from when you moved in together… your first apartment and all the ones after that.

you can tell seungcheol is trying not to cry which makes you start to second guess the other half of the book because it isn’t as… wholesome.

maybe you should have gotten two books.

you can tell when he gets to the middle when he furrows his eyebrows. you’d tried to ease the transition from sweet to spicy with a picture of you both in bed. you’re under the covers but you can tell you’re naked from your bare shoulders peeking out. you figured it was just suggestive enough to not give your boyfriend a heart attack when he got to what’s next.

“what…” his eyes get wide. “oh.”

flip.

“oh my god… baby,” he murmurs.

flip.

“are the rest of them… like this?”

“why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“maybe i want to save them for later.”

“later? why?”

“because the first three pages of this section were just you in lingerie and i’m already getting hard and we have dinner reservations in thirty minutes.”

you smirk. “you can’t handle a few provocative photos?”

“i can, but knowing you these pictures are going to turn into full on porn by the end of this book. tell me i’m wrong.”

you purse your lips and clasp your hands behind your back. “i can’t do that.”

“so fucking predictable,” seungcheol muses.

“but i want you to look at the rest!”

“baby, i just told you what would happen! these pants are already tight enough.”

“maybe i could help with that,” you suggest, quirking an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

“what do you mean?”

instead of answering with words, you sink to your knees in front of him.

“keep looking at your present,” you insist as you unbuckle his belt. “i’ll take care of the rest.”

[simp-ly-writes]

For All Time

Paring: 10th Doctor x Fem! Time Lord!Reader

Summary: Many, Many worlds ago you were married to the Doctor. That was until a war tore your home planet and species apart and you were part of the lucky handful that managed to make your way out into the universe- alive. As you go through many regenerations of yourself, you run into the Master, an old friend of yours that you faintly remember. He tells you of the Doctor, warns you of your spouse and from then on, you are on a mission to never interact with him. Should be easy... right?

Warnings: 3300 words. Angst with no HEA. Themes of death. Depictions of Blood.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Doctor Who and I have only watched 12 hours worth of video essay's on the series. Please be kind and I hope you all enjoy~ :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

You were terrified of time lords, the Doctor in particular and as to not be a hypocrite, you were scared of yourself- of everything you could fuck up for all time- that you already did fuck up for all time as the Master had already reported to you all those regenerations ago.

He told you of the horrors you made, the inconsequential decisions you thought to be just so now added up to a few hundred deaths on your hands as universe's threatened to collapse and the possible elimination of dozens of species painted your hands in guilt. Your finger nails pressing into your palms as you shook your head, trying to wring the statistics out of your head. But in the sliver of a smile, his dark eyes filled your thoughts as he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned closer to your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

You felt his breath on your neck as he brushed your hair away from your face, drinking up your tears while whispering in your ear, "But you haven't done the worst, love." He emits a small chuckle, his head knocking slighting against your own as you lean further back into the wall for support. "It is the Doctor that damned us all and yet we are the one's to be blamed, for everything, for all time, now and forever. He has killed millions, and nearly every little lover he calls companions he takes on his tyrannical adventures."

Your voice meek, throat clogged with tears as you sniffle for air, "I thought I was the only one, old friend... I thought that- that-"

"From what I know..." he cuts you off, taking a step back, allowing you room to breath as your legs give out from underneath yourself, your back falling against the wall before you are sat on the floor. Your fingers picking away at the grout between the tiles as you count the tiles of the room, doing your best to blink away the tears. "... its just the three of us and if I can offer you a tidbit of advice form one friend to another..."

He stand at full height, leaning down to lift your chin, that sliver now a toothy grin as his fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing your lips together, his eyes flash over to them before continuing his eye contact as you wince at the force he handles you with. "...continue to run away from us all." He drops your head, as if your skin burned his own and by the time you gain the momentum to look up once more, there are no traces he ever was here- he ever exist, a mere fragment of your imagination. You pick yourself up the floor and take his advice to heart.

--

So thats how you found yourself, sat underneath an umbrella in early spring within France. You and your Tardis concluded the time to be the mid two-thousands as you tried not to let the everlasting smell of piss on the streets keep you from enjoying an early brunch.

You watched as various tourists rolled themselves out onto the streets, snapping hundreds of pictures with their digital cameras, kids pointing at various things in storefronts, leading their parents chasing after them. A small smile casted upon your features as you listened to their little feet run across the cobbled streets, cheering loudly at the sweets in the window.

The Sun begins to peek out from between the clouds as you cast your gaze down to escape its shinning rays sneaking underneath your cover. Taking a sip of your now ice-cold coffee, you jolt in your seat, unaware that it was yourself who clattered the cup to the plate, trying to set your drink down. Dropping your shoulders down, your cheeks warm as the kids from earlier snap their heads towards the noise as you begin to pat your pants dry from the spilled coffee.

You swear lightly underneath your breath, your book-ruined and the liquid threatening to ruin your pants as well. Taking a napkin from the holder, you pat yourself down before opening the book in your lap, trying to air out the pages.

But soon the book and outfit become the last of your worries as your ear twitch to the familiar mechanical wizzing sound of what could only be a Tardis. Sweat instantly forms in your palms, your eyes dart around the streets, looking, watching, waiting for his arrival. You hate to admit that the panic holds yourself still, strapped to this very chair to witness the horror about to be unleashed yet all these humans appear none-the-wiser to their upcoming demise.

And when you think all those tears you shed were now buried away yet new ones burn your vision blurry as you grip the table in wait. What of the children, the families, the lives of them all? Your brain presses, kicking into hyperdrive, asking yourself if you are ready to die. But what will he do if he finds me? And your mind goes blank, incapable of thinking of what tortures you would endure.

So you present yourself human, plastering a fake smile, bright eyes as silent tears run rivers down your cheeks. Your breathing staggered just like your hearts, threatening to exit your body and make a life for themselves. It would be better to die, you convince yourself, the words echoing through your soul, it is better to die, die, die.

--

It feels like lifetimes move as you await his presence, eyes casting down the various alleyways, ears pointed for the sounds of agony and screams in his pleasure for universal domination. "He's killed millions," the Master's voice whispers into your ear with the breeze following by the sound of two beating hearts.

It was hard to miss the way your heart slowed, matching the breaths in between his own. His steps organized in the crowd surrounding him as a woman follows just behind his every step. His hair caught you first, its frazzled appearance as if he dragged his hands through the roots a few hundred times yet no stress coated his features, not a single wrinkle or crinkle besides a smile that has you loosening your grip on the table.

His direction leads him closer towards the coffee shop you sit in front of as a child runs across his front, stepping on one of his sneakers, an involuntary gasp escapes between your painted lips yet the Doctor takes no attention nor comment to them, simply continuing his way through the crowd. You hear his voice above all the afternoon commotion, his accent catching you off guard, "Say Donna, have you ever seen Paris or the South of France? I must say that this tower of theres is nothing in comparison to some of the future civilizations I've seen, I should, I will take you to one in the future or well, when we are done here."

The woman nods along to what he says, biting her lip, a knowing smile growing across her features as if she is cooking up a line to fire back, "Well the last time I was here was with you but we didn't really get to have a getaway besides running from those martians trying to KILL US! This is much better, oh!- did you see that woman's sandwich! How about lunch?"

Your eyes are wide as she tilts her head in your direction. You embody the appearance of a deer in headlights before swiftly unfolding the newspaper on the table, doing your best to read the various headlines with plausible interest.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, looking to where Donna's eyes had landed, his eyes narrow in of the outrageously large paper that covers your face as he leans closer to Donna, "is that newspaper big, or is the woman just small?"

Donna laughs, knocking her shoulder with the Doctor as he shuffles back, head tipped down into a playful glare. "Well, spaceman. In comparison to you, anything appears larger than life."

"Do you want that sandwich or not?" The Doctor responds, eyes already bored and looking at the various other shops and people on the street, subconsciously looking for a threat to ruin the day.

"Well, yes-"

"Then lets get you that sandwich," and with that the Doctor is taking large strides up to your table. Curiosity brimming with excitement to uncover whoever was behind that paper. His heart rate began to climb, the walk now a light job as Donna wondered whatever has gotten into the Doctor.

--

You tense in preparation, saying your grievances underneath your breath as the man reaches forward, ripping the newspaper that had gradually been pressed closer to your face as he leaned closer to you. You pick up the book in your lap, spreading the pages wide open. Wincing once your fingers trace up the spine, finding a new crack upon its surface- that too is torn out of your hands.

In a childish effort- you close your eyes, hands racing across the tables surface before feeling the soft material of a serviette. Your plate clatters against the wooden table as you rip the cloth from underneath, waving it in the air to unfold it and subsequently into his face as he audibly complains. Swiftly opening your eyes, you look through the thin material, tracing over his blurry outline and hard-to-reach features while leaning back as far as your chair allows you too. Your feet hooking under the tables legs as only two chair legs hold you from toppling over.

The man huffs, his chair scraping against the pavement in a horrifying screech as your tableware clatters to the floor, bits and pieces of porcelain scraping across your leather shoes and socks. He peers over your napkin, eyebrow raised, brown-eyes peering to see your wide ones. You watch as his other eyebrow races to match the other, a small gasp escapes between his parting lips with fingers brushing against your own. He steals away the last of your cover, casting it aside to a nearby empty table.

The Doctor leans closer to listen to your hearts beating rapidly in your chest as he casts a hand down to feel his own. By the time he looks back up at you, a charming smile has one threatening to spread across your face but the Master's words make it fall the next moment as the Doctor gently clasps your hand between his own, taking the seat behind himself, pulling you forwards to sit level.

"Hello, darling," he whispers out, unsure if you are truly you as he awaits your answer. He squeezes your hand, ushering you to respond. You hate the way the pet-name makes you feel, the memories that flood your mind and all the time in between. A moment passes between you both before an approaching fiery-headed woman shifts your attention away from one another.

"DOCTOR? DOCTOR! What in the hells do you think you're doing?! Harassing this poor woman- oh I apologize dear, I have no idea what gotten into him today. I don't want that Sandwich in particular, just any sandwich!" Donna shouts out in the Doctors face. You wait for her to take him by the ear like a tired mom yet she smacks him on the back of his head as he drops your hand to ease the oncoming bruise.

With this distraction you quickly stand, throwing an unknown amount of currency on the table before darting down the crowded Paris streets. The Doctor curses underneath his breath lightly, "You don't understand, Donna!"

"What don't I understand? You going after some random human, is she a past companion or something?" Donna asks, eyes casting towards your empty seat that the Doctor glares at.

"Thats my wife!" The Doctor outbursts, grabbing your book and paper in hand before darting off after you, Donna running swiftly after the spaceman. "YOUR WHAT?!" Donna screams out between breaths.

"MY WIFE!"

"Don't you have five of those already?" She teases but the tone is peaked with genuine curiosity.

"Well yes- no. I don't know, they were the first!" The Doctor stumbles the words out, mind a fumbled mess at the sudden shock of you.

"The first, wait. Are they..." Donna's steps come to a halt as the Doctor casts his head back, steps slowing as they regain their breath, he hands your book and newspaper to Donna who holds onto the materials tightly. "...a time lord?"

"Yes..." the Doctor says in a remorseful tone. "....Yes, they are."

--

You lost where you last parked your Tardis as you turn down road after road, cars honking as you interrupt the traffic in your maddened dash. You keep your ears peaked for the two intruders to your centuries of peace. Your mind running a mile a minute for a plan that you assure yourself to be thinking of on the fly as you take another sharp turn, flying into someones arms.

They grip you still, smelling of aftershave and coffee with a dash of honey. You take in a deeper breath, curious to find the undertones before a chuckle has you pulling away, blinking rapidly as they hold onto your elbows and pull you into an empty shop under construction. You curse when seeing those familiar brown eyes, your hands drifting over the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the small rips and seams before pulling away. Dusting your hands off on your pants, he moves his touch up to your shoulders, giving them a light shake.

"Why are you running, is there an emergency? A planet being overtaken, a universe about to explode?" He rattles off various answers for your selection yet you chose to remain silent. Ripping yourself away from his touch, you watch as his hands flex, itching to hold onto something, to someone, before he reaches into his jacket pocket as you do the same.

Two sonic screwdrivers are presented, shoving the glowing end into one another's presences. The door slams open and shut once more as Donna casts her arms wide and behind herself, blocking any potential escape. "Alright, lets gets things settled here, we don't need to me shoving our sonic screwdrivers at each other now!" Donna announces.

You wait for the Doctor to drop his first, eyes following as his hand open, his movements slow as he guides the technology back into his coat. He nods towards you, beckoning for you to do the same, your hands shake as you press it into your pant pocket for easier access. The Doctor raises a brow to this, looking back at Donna who's sights are set on you with pity.

The Doctor takes a step forwards, you shake your head, hands raised, your voice cracking, "You. Are. A. Monster! A Monster that has destroyed lives! You are in the midst of ruining another just now. If you would PLEASE just let me walk away I can promise you that I will do nothing- a personal moral of mine-"

The Doctors eyes gloss over, memories flash over himself. His arms feel heavy, shoulders slumping forwards as he remembers holding what he thought to be the second-to-last time lord in his arms, the Master as he died- unwilling to regenerate. "But here's the thing, I don't want to just 'let you walk away,' not with how I lost the last one- not when I am so close again to what could be," the Doctor pleads sincerity, his heart shattering at your words he knows a part to be true. But to hear them coming from who he surly believes to be you, it cuts him wounds him as you continuously step away from him as he nears.

The pain, the fear in your eyes, dictating your speech, he wishes to comfort you, hand raising to capture your outstretched one yet you quickly press your hands back into your chest. Right above your heart as it covering it for an attack. Donna sternly voices the Doctors name causing the man to pause in motion. Feet posed for another step, hand outstretched in a welcoming fashion, palm stretching outwards.

"Exactly. What COULD be. Couldn't have said it better myself, Doctor," you spit his name out, copying the Master's tone. "I'd say it even makes things easier on the both of us. Now please, let. me. go. Or better yet- kill me! Kill me right here, right now! I know you want to so just DO IT!" you scream out, words chocking on tears as you cough, hunching your form over. You feel so small, so hopeless as you look over to his companion, silently asking for her to convince him.

"No," the Doctor states firmly, hands now gripped into fists as he struggles to articulate his next words, looking over at Donna for support.

"Then I am sorry," you hush out softly before jumping up with all your strength as you cast a right hook across his nose. Blood pours over your knuckles as you fling your hand to remove the bodily fluid form your skin, making a mad dash towards the door.

You shout an apology to the human companion, having to shove 'Donna' you remember her name to be, out of the way and make your way back onto the streets. The Tardis had to be close, you think to yourself- the feeling in your gut starting to swell alongside your knuckles as you hissed through the pain, flinging yourself back towards your on-the-go home and pressing towards a random position. Pleading towards the console, anywhere but here, but now, with him- please.

--

"Wa-" The Doctor began to say before gripping his noise, casting his head upwards to try and stop the onslaught of blood. Tears cascaded down his features, creating a mess across his face as the liquids dropped down to his collard shirt and suit, staining the material for good.

Donna watched your escape through the window, you paid no mind to turn around, to take one last look no matter how hard your shoulders tensed or your neck tilted until you were out of sight. Shaking her head she walks over to the Doctor, reaching around in her pockets for a napkin as she presents the thin cloth to him.

The Doctor mumbles a thanks, beginning to wipe away at his face from his reflection in the glass. The air in the room is depleting as the Time Lord struggles to choke down air from the weight heaving in his chest. Donna rubs his back, watching as his back tenses before settling yet he refuses to look at her, only looking at the direction you fled in.

A few moments passes and the Doctor and Donna had yet to move form their positions, in a light tone, nervous to cut through the heavy silence too swiftly, Donna softly speaks, "You alright?"

The Doctor stands to full height, tissue dropping to the dirty floors beneath as he kicks away a loose bunch of screws. "I'm always alright." The Doctor nods- as if hyping himself up. He begins to make his way towards the door, looking back with a hand outstretched once more.

Donnas heartbreaks then and there as the spaceman smiles at her. She can see the pain in his eyes, the remnants of tears still in the corner of his eyes and the small sniffles he does his best to hide. She softly grasps his hand, giving it a squeeze. She listens to the breath he lets out shakily before leading them back out the door and in the opposite direction of you.

↳ A/N: what did you think? :)

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Six of Crows Russian Edition

Today I found this gorgeous gem at the bookstore!

So a few years ago I moved overseas to live in a Russian speaking country. I am not in Russia, for the record. The national language here is not Russian, but it is commonly spoken in my city.

Today at the bookstore I looked for a copy of Crooked Kingdom for the cast of Shadow and Bone to sign this May when I go to A Storm of Shadows and Crows convention in Paris. I don't own a copy of SOC or KC in English and there's no chance of finding one where I live. The next best option was getting a book in the local language and calling it a souvenir of my time abroad. To my delight I found this lovely Russian edition of Six of Crows!

More stunning artwork below.

There were multiple versions of the books to choose from. The original art and the Netflix artwork were available too. The most impressive part was finding copies of the original covers WITHOUT the Netflix sticker. (Haha, suck it Netflix.) To the right, not pictured were King of Scars and Rule of Wolves.

I've never seen this cover variation before. It was an exciting find!

The Russian version I bought is illustrated by (I assume Russian?) artist Eva Eller.

I didn't see a copy of Crooked Kingdom with illustrations by the same artist at this bookstore, but it must exist. Mine was the last copy of SOC with the Russian artwork. Maybe it was sold out?

Google Translate titles the book Six of Ravens, lol. But that's just a translation error because a little google-foo showed that ворона (pronounced vorona) means crow. Interestingly, while typing the title, I learned that вор (pronounced vor) means thief. Interesting how similar the words crow and thief are in Russian. Checks out.

Above is the art printed on the side of the pages. Love how it still includes the side of the pages colored, just like the original books.

The hardcover underneath the jacket is a crow. It's not the same as pictured on the original CK cover, but it is similar. Love the messy, broken, bent feathers, yet the crow is still able to fly. Metaphor for our six characters? Absolutely!

The book was wrapped in cellophane so I didn't realize there was even more art inside! Here is the inner cover. IT'S BEAUTIFUL! The back is the same. It captures the foggy haze of Ketterdam so well.

The flaps of the book jacket are images from the inner cover. But there's a cracked texture over them that gives it a gorgeous grittiness.

The candle is the left side of the inner book jacket. Sorry the image isn't flat, I didn't want to damage the jacket by straightening it out.

The right side of the book jacket shows all the Crows!

Let's appreciate how Matthias looks snow pale and serious. Inej is taller than Nina -- she must be standing on a step stool. No clue why both of their eyes are closed, especially when Nina is the one pointing to the paper. They are lovely. Kaz has on his scheming face. Jesper is as handsome as every version of him should be. And Wylan looks bored AF because A.) he's already memorized the map he drew or B.) he can't read whatever document Kaz has in front of them. Wait, no, Wylan is making heart eyes at Jesper. All of the above can be true.

Inside is a small illustration at the beginning of each chapter, which changes with each section.

You can also see the Crow's names written in Cyrillic. Inej, Kaz, Nina, and Matthias translate easily. Jesper uses the д (letter D) and ж (pronounced like zhe) letter combination that makes his name sound like Zhesper since there is no J in Cyrillic. It's worth pointing out (again) that Wylan's name does not translate perfectly. There is no W in the Cyrillic alphabet. (As someone who also has a W in their name, I sympathize with Wylan here.) I'm no expert in Russian, but I'm pretty sure -- with the help of google translate -- that Wylan is pronounced as Oo-ai-len. Poor boy can't catch a break.

Each of the five section of the book use different chapter art. They all do an excellent job capturing the atmosphere.

The paper is so thin that you can easily see the printing on the opposite side. Not ideal for an edition that's otherwise this lovely. Oh well.

Given that Ravka is fantasy Russia, it's not a surprise to find the Grisha Verse books in Russian.

I am so excited to bring this book to Paris for the cast to sign!

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Metamorphosis

(Sequel of Feast)

08/02/2024

Pairing: Vampire!Hozier x reader

Word Count: 7,629

Warnings: vampire au, language, blood, blood sucking (a little), fatigue, dizziness, fainting, masturbation, fingering, penetration (same reader as in Feast, so same characteristics apply)

Summary: After your passionate night with Andrew, you wake in his bed. And with you a multitude of feelings that lead you to question the unusual nature of your relationship.

A/N: Here we go again, Feast Part 2. The story did not really feel finished after Part 1, it still doesn't, but I can rest my head a lot easier after writing this continuation.

Picture found on Pinterest, edited by me

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

 Andrew did not dare to move in his wingback by the window. He could sense that you were getting closer and closer to reality again with every soft breath, and still he did not want to wake you. You needed all the rest you could get. But there was this other desire inside of him as well. A desire that even forbade him to blink. For more selfish reasons though. Because the moment you would open those magnificent eyes, he could not afford to miss it. And it would tell him everything he needed to know. 

But when it finally came, he was not prepared at all. Slowly you began to stir, your eyelids fluttering as you rolled onto your back with a sigh. The sheets drifted the slightest inch down your body, catching his attention in a heartbeat. It was not much he could see, only a vague hint of the two globes that awaited underneath, barely perceptible, and yet it was enough to make him almost miss the moment he had been waiting for all day as memories came rushing back to him. So soft, so pliable, as they had pressed against his palms, eager for his caress. And those hardened buds, he would never forget how they had tasted, how they had felt against his tongue, between his teeth. 

And as if you had been listening in on his thoughts, he watched them grow underneath the pristine sheets, the most enticing moan leaving your lips as you stretched your limbs and readied yourself to leave the world of dreams. He felt dreadful, abominable for wanting you this much when this, you, in this almost comatose state, was the very result of the same greed that was taking hold of him right now. 

But all of that was drowned out in an instant when your lids finally fell open, a pair of drowsy, dull eyes finding him immediately. He had feared this moment as much as he had awaited it, and your smile, so placid, so warm and affectionate was so much more than he could ever have hoped for. Actually, to him it had been the most unlikely of all the scenarios that had played out in his head. It was almost painful, downright blasphemous when your eyes fell away to take in your surroundings. For the first time, since you had been completely gone when he had carried you here.

“You have a bed?”

You were teasing, also something he had not expected from someone who had slept for almost twenty-four hours. Still he found himself chuckling.

“Only for guests. My coffin is actually next door.” 

“I knew it.”

Gosh, you were too sweet for your own good. Just lying there, snickering softly about his stupid joke, and when your hand reached out for him, he let himself glide out of his chair, and found himself on his knees instead, right beside your bed, your hand firmly clutched in both of his. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.”

“Hm.” He took a moment, his lips finding your knuckles. He had expected your fatigue, it was normal, to a point. As long as there were no other signs of hypovolemia. “Are you nauseous, too?”

“No, just very, very hungry.” Thank the heavens, he thought. Maybe he had not taken quite as much as he had feared. Or you were an exceptional fighter. It would not surprise him if that were the case. “How long did I sleep?”

“Almost a full day.”

“What?”

And there it was again, the suffocating guilt. He had betrayed your trust, violated the sacred nature of your transaction, and he would never forgive himself for it.

“I am so sorry. I’ll explain everything to you, I promise.” He pressed another kiss to your hand, and then he stood. “But now you need to eat.” And with that he made his way over to the door. “There are some clothes for you,” he nodded towards the bedside table before he lifted his arm to point to the wall across the room, “And you’ll find the bathroom through that door.”

“Clothes?” you mumbled, but he was already gone. Where the hell had he gotten those? You were still frowning as you reached for the bundle and pulled it into your lap. Blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Were those his clothes? But when you unfolded the shirt and revealed the black lingerie that had been carefully hidden away, you were pretty sure that those were definitely not his clothes. Did he have them on the ready then? Always a spare set of jeans and a shirt at hand. That did probably come in very handy with a flock of women frequenting this bed. Especially for the passionate nights, when dresses were ripped and blood was spilled in the rapture of the moment. 

But as much as you did not want to believe you were just one of them, not after last night and everything you had shared, you had to admit to yourself at some point that you were just that, one among many, insignificant, nothing but another meal, tomorrow he would feast on someone else. And you better realised that sooner than later, before any damage was done. 

It surprised you though, as you sat up, how immaculately the dark lace cupped your breasts, how perfectly it fit around your chest, how the cool touch as you pulled it up your legs and against your pussy made you shiver, how it made you forget there were other clothes to put on, made you want to lounge on the bed, your body on full display for him once he got back. 

As had all the others done, it came rushing back to you, and that was all you needed to pull yourself together and slip into the other two items of clothing. They fit you just as well, and you sighed as the dark lace shimmered through the thin white cotton of the shirt. What a waste.

The bathroom proved to be just as opulent as the rest of the house with its huge tub, large mirror and polished marble, but it was also just as disappointing. There were towels waiting for you and toiletries aplenty, everything you could ever find yourself in the need of after a night with this man. This creature, you corrected yourself, and you could feel a touch of bitterness resonating. 

Well, time to step out of this fever dream and get real again, to go about your bathroom routine, maybe eat a little and then leave. And so you did, at least you managed to brush your teeth and untangle the knots in your hair before reality stroke a bit too harshly for your taste. You had been leaning over the sink, splashing a few hands full of that ice-cold water into your face before you blindly reached for a towel and buried your face in it while you were getting up. You were not even standing fully upright again when you felt the rush of blood. You could hear it, the white noise it carried along as tiny fragments of light started to dance before your eyes. 

No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. You could not black out in his bathroom. Not anywhere inside these walls. The towel falling from your hands, you reached for the sink instead, grabbing the rim tightly and leaning back down a little. It took a while, but slowly the tiny flecks of light faded and the rushing stopped. Maybe it was a good idea to get back into bed again. Just for a moment. 

But you had only just made it to the door when the next wave of dizziness hit you, stronger this time. The lights were back, clouding your sight as they danced wilder than before, almost ecstatic, so out of control in fact that the world began to spin around you. This was not good, you managed to compose one clear thought in the chaos inside your mind, not good at all. And with no furniture close by to hold onto, you let yourself sink against the doorframe instead.

It was unusually soft upon impact, and warm. So plush against your face and hands. And it smelled oh so familiar, captivating and yet homely, inviting you to just rest your head against it for a little while.

“Angel?”

You must have passed out. Why else would the doorframe suddenly start talking to you? Or secure you in place so you could not fall, one arm draped around your middle. It even had hands. One of them now cupping your cheek. This was wild. One of the wildest dreams you had ever had.

“Angel?”

You could even see its lips, so enchanting as they moved. You wanted to feel them. No, you needed to feel them, as if your life depended on it. But somehow you could neither use you arms, nor your legs. And still your body moved, shadows flitting by, until something soft and cool pressed against your back while your face somehow still rested against the fuzzy doorframe. 

This was nice though, you thought, clutching more of that plushy doorframe in your fists. And that scent, still so rich and heady. You inhaled deeply, letting it invade your blank mind until it was completely filled by it. There was a word at the far back, no, a name, slowly pushing itself to the foreground until it was clear for you to read. 

“Andrew,” it came out in nothing but a mumble, however much you tried to say it out loud.

“I’m here, angel.”

Angel. You had heard that one before. You could not recall where or when, but it made your heart flutter, made you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“Andrew,” you mumbled again, and this time you knew. You knew with all your heart. That scent. Of course. That bloody vampire. He must have come to your rescue just as you had been about to black out. How convenient. And just your luck. 

It all came rushing back in a flash, almost making you dizzy once more, but this time you fought it. You fought with all your might, pushed yourself out of the dark, until you could feel the strength return to your body. You had control again. At least a little. It would be sufficient to push yourself off of him though. It had to. 

“I’m fine,” you managed to press out rather convincingly to your own ears. Then again for good measure, “I’m fine.”

But somehow this did nothing and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you found yourself still clutched against his chest. 

“You’re not. Far from it.”

There was something strange about his voice, something you could not quite put your finger on. Was it anger? Disappointment? Remorse? Could he even feel any of those emotions?

You tilted your head, looking up at him, and you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Of course he could feel those emotions. They were written all over his face, reflecting in his eyes, the language of his caress speaking loud and clear when it found your cheek again.

“And I am so sorry for doing this to you.”

“What did you do?” you asked, still a little confused. “Did you make me pass out?”

“No,” he chuckled, “well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.” His hand drifted down to your neck, his fingertips finding your pulse, making you shiver once more. You were hardly able to suppress a wanton moan. What the hell was wrong with you? “You just tasted so good. I…I could not stop in time when I cashed in my side of our bargain. It should never have happened. It’s unforgivable.”

You could feel your heart break in two for him. His eyes so full of sadness, of self-loathing, it killed you just to watch from the outside what must be playing out inside his mind. What had probably tortured him this whole time and glued him to your bed all day. 

“Well, it’s not your fault I’m such a snack,” you tried to lighten the mood. But instead of earning you a smile, the creases on his forehead grew even deeper.

“Do you think this is a laughing matter? I could have killed you.” 

You felt that he wanted to move, but he did not. For your sake, you realised. And so you pulled yourself up along his chest until your face was close to his.

“But you did not. I am still here, Andrew.” Your thumb traced his brow, the other fingers easing the creases away. “I am still here.” He closed his eyes as your fingers moved along his temple, his cheek, some finding bare skin, others soft stubble on the way down to his lips. Without hesitation they fell open with a sigh and now it was you who could not stop. Slowly you leaned in, your eyes falling shut somewhere along the way, until you could finally taste him. It was gentle and soft, yet so intense. Everything you remembered from last night and more. You could have kissed him forever, could have given yourself over to that feeling until you had completely lost yourself in it, but before you could, he pulled away.

“You need to eat,” he stated matter of factly, reaching for the tray full of the finest breakfast foods he must have placed at the foot of the bed in a hurry. 

“I was just about to when you so rudely interrupted me.”

He grinned, like a school boy, you thought, and for a second you were wondering if vampires could blush.

“Food, I mean. Real food.” And with that he put the tray across your lap. It looked amazing, and it smelled even better. There was a bowl of porridge with fresh berries, and more fruit waiting on a silver plate. There were pancakes, too, and eggs, bacon, toast, butter, honey, marmalade, some juice and a huge glass of cold milk. Of course you had spotted the flowers too, wildflowers, freshly picked, and you were tempted to take them out of the vase and bring them to your nose to inhale their sweet scent, but that would be much too cheesy of a gesture for your own taste. This was not a scene from a sappy romance novel after all.

“Would you like some too?” you asked after you had shovelled the first few spoons of porridge into your mouth. With the most ravenous hunger sated, your manners seemed to return somehow. Unfortunately, your knowledge about his eating habits had not resurfaced from the fog with them. 

“You know I don’t. But thanks for the offer.”

“Why don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t enjoy it anymore. It tastes like nothing. Imagine having a really bad cold, your sense of smell and taste completely gone. And on top of that it does nothing against the hunger.”

His voice had dropped as the last word came over his lips and with it his face changed for a tiny moment. You wished it had lasted a bit longer. Long enough to show you those divine fangs again. Your walls were quivering just thinking about them. His eyes narrowed suddenly, as if he had been listening in on your thoughts. No, not your thoughts, your heartbeat, you realised, and the moment you did, you could feel it stumble again. He was just about to open his mouth, probably to ask if you were okay, when you cut him short.

“Why make everyone cook for you then?”

“Because it gives me time to observe, to get to know the donors.” The ‘donors’, so that was what you were to him. “It also relaxes them. They are occupied with their task which in turn takes their mind off of what is about to happen. It also gives this whole transaction a touch of normalcy, you know, having dinner together, like on a real date.”

“Except that your dinner is having dinner while you watch. That’s not exactly what the average person would call normalcy, is it?”

He obviously had not caught on to the biting nature of your comment, or he chose to ignore it. 

“Probably not. Then again, hardly any of them ever notice that I leave my plate untouched.”

“Well, I did. Also, the cooking did not relax me at all.” And the staring, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, getting you all hot and bothered.

“I know. I almost thought you’d never relax and…you know…get in the mood.”

“In the mood, huh?” you repeated his words, putting your spoon down with a harsh clinking sound. “That’s what you wanted all along? To get me in the mood? Well, you could have saved yourself a lot of effort then. I swear I was in the mood all right when you handed me that glass of wine. All it took would have been one more word, one more touch and I would have begged for you to take me there and then.”

Had he always been this close? Had his eyes been this dark during your entire conversation? And was he leaning in now, his fingers grasping your chin? He was almost there, right where you wanted to feel him again, his breath already wafting across your lips, making them fall open the tiniest bit.

“Shame,” he whispered, “I would have loved to fuck you in the kitchen.” You moaned, the thought of him lifting you onto the counter mixed with his breath in your mouth enough to have you on the edge of begging again, when he suddenly let go of you. “But I rather liked the way it turned out in the end. Apart from…” he drew away further, making his way over to the edge of the bed where he stayed, face turned away from you.

“I told you, it was no big deal, Andrew. I am fine.”

“Is that what I saw a moment ago when you almost fainted? Is that your definition of fine?” he snapped as he spun around to face you again. 

“It’ll pass. I’ll be as good as new in a few days,” you tried to reason. This was really not as bad as he made it sound.

“Exactly. But you are far from fine now. And as long as you are not, I cannot let you go.”

You could not believe your ears. Did he just…would he…

“Well, what do you intend to do? Keep me here as your prisoner?”

“What? No!” Now he looked just as confused as you felt. “All I meant was that you should not be on your own in this state. You should probably stay in bed and have someone look after you.”

“Jesus, then you should have just said that instead,” you sighed as you leant back against the pillows, “I almost thought you’d lock me up in a dungeon in your basement.”

“There is no dungeon in the basement,” he smirked. “It’s actually in—”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t want to know,” you cut him short.

“I was joking, angel.” He reached for your hand, but you were quick to pull it away.

“Not the best of times for a joke, maybe.”

Andrew took a deep breath, “Duly noted.”

“Anyway,” you stated, putting the tray aside to make your way to the other side of the bed. “This is stilI not going to happen. I don’t want to stay in bed, being confined to this room like a patient in hospital for the entire day.”

“Night,” he corrected.

“What?”

“It’s nighttime, angel. I was merely asking you to stay in bed all night, like the average human being.”

Well, that was actually quite a reasonable thing to ask. Nevertheless, he would not get to decide for you. You were a grown woman and as such you knew what was best for you. And that was anything but staying in bed to rest for the foreseeable future.

“Fine! I don’t want to stay in bed all night either.”

He sighed. A long, drawn out sound of resignation. 

“All right. Can you stay here for another ten minutes then? Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.” 

Ten minutes sounded doable. And whatever was going to happen, if you would not like it, you could still leave after those ten minutes. He held no power over you. You did not belong to him. Not that he had said any such thing. But just for yourself, just to be sure, you needed that little reminder. 

He was still sat there, across the bed from you, watching you intently. His patience was almost admirable. There was no anger or irritation in those attentive green eyes, just the flicker of a faint hope. And as soon as you found yourself nodding your consent, he was gone. 

You had no watch to be sure, but when he stepped through that door again, not a single bead of sweat on his forehead to confirm that he had been in a hurry, you could have sworn it had not been more than five minutes. He walked straight over to you, to the side of the bed you were still sitting on and before you had even the slightest chance to process what was happening, you found yourself lifted into his arms.

“What are you doing?” you protested. A weak protest, you had to admit, as your arms had already snaked around his neck, obviously accepting your fate before the rest of you did. “You can’t—“

“Oh, believe me, I can. How do you think you got from the bathroom to the bed, or up here into this room last night?”

You could feel the heat crawl into your cheeks as the memory returned. And not just the fact that you had mistaken him for a doorframe not even an hour ago, but also the images of last night made your heart race in your chest. Last night. It had been…you were still void for words. But you could not allow yourself to fall down that rabbit hole. Not now. Not again.

Instead you chose to study the only thing you could really make out in the dim light of the staircase he was climbing with you now: him. This was probably not a better idea than thinking about last night, seeing how beautiful he was. His curls, that fell around his face freely tonight, accentuating his high cheekbones and prominent jawline. It was right in front of you, you could have leaned in, just a little, and press your lips right to it, into that soft auburn stubble. Or you could rest your head against his shoulder, bury your face in the crook of his neck, against that alabaster skin. Would his skin still have the same taste as yesterday? Honey-sweet, with a pinch of salt. You could check real quick, let the tip of your tongue glide along the silky softness. Would he chide you? Or would he enjoy your foolish impulsivity? Maybe he would moan again, ever so softly, or he would remind you of the true nature of your relationship. That everything came at a cost. And that unfortunately, you had momentarily run out of the only currency he accepted.

With a sigh you abandoned your ideas, all of them. He was just being polite, probably fearing it might ruin his immaculate reputation if anything were to happen to you. That was why he was so keen on keeping you here. To monitor you, to nurse you back into an acceptable state. Nothing more.

“Are you all right?”

Politeness, that was all it was. There was nothing more to the creases in his forehead, to the furrow of his brows or the narrowing of his eyes. No worry, no affection, no care. Just politeness.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you heard yourself repeat for the umpteenth time today, lacking almost all validity at this point.

“We’re almost there. The fresh air will do you good, you’ll see.”

Fresh air? Where the hell was he taking you?

But before you could voice your question, your eyes picked up a flickering glimmer of light. It illuminated the last steps of the way, waiting for you at the head of the stairs and when the full image slowly came into view, your heart melted on the spot. It stung at the same time, contracting in your chest as the last bit of rationality inside of you protested sharply upon your mesmerised state. This was not real, it was just another part of the game the two of you were playing. But why did it feel so real then? And what did it matter anyway? Why not give yourself over to the illusion for one more night? 

And the setting made it so easy. The sea of candles that illuminated the roof terrace, their golden shine on the island of blankets and pillows in their midst, and the multitude of stars above, sparkling like diamonds on the dark blue canvas of the night sky. 

Carefully, Andrew set you down in the cozy pillow fort he had built before he let himself glide down right next to you. 

“Do you like it?” he inquired, his voice so full of hope, and yet he seemed to be genuinely unsure what your answer would be.

“At least it’s better than that stuffy, old bedroom of yours,” you teased, but before your words could do any harm you leaned in, your lips finding his cheek for a soft kiss. “It’s beautiful, Andrew. I love it.”

He was about to turn his head, maybe just to look at you, but you could feel the possibility of so much more hanging in the air between you as you let yourself sink down onto the pillows. 

“It’s really a shame there is so much light from the town,” you sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, just to see what the sky looked like without all the light pollution.”

“I could show you,” he said as if it was nothing.

“Do you mean to tell me you own a time machine?”

He laughed, out loud, and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

“No, I don’t. But how about this?”

He snapped his fingers, just once, and the candles around you went dark. It took you a moment to realise, but it were not just the candles that had died. You found yourself in complete darkness all of a sudden. And if it had not been for the soft touch of his jumper against your arm, his leg coming to rest along the length of yours, you had not even known that he had decided to lay down beside you.

“How?” you whispered, the quiet tone seeming appropriate in the darkness.

“Vampire party trick.”

“Neat.” 

He chuckled. “It does come in handy sometimes.”

“But what if people notice?”

“It’s the middle of the night, angel. Hardly anyone will notice.”

The two of you went silent then. In awe you watched the myriad of stars that had appeared above you. You had never seen anything even remotely like this before. It was fascinating, magnificent, this glimpse into the endless expanse of the universe, and you were lying here, not more than two specks of dust, maybe even less, in this unimaginable vastness of existence.

“What’s it like to be a vampire?”

Your question must have surprised him as he took a moment to ponder the question, and when it finally came, you were glad you could not see him properly. 

“Lonely, most of the time.”

The sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart heavy for him, seeing it reflected in his eyes would have killed you.

“There must be others like you.”

“There are.” You could feel him stir beside you. “But, ehm, let’s just say I like to keep them at a distance.”

The truth was, he was an outsider. He had made himself one the day he had decided to stop killing. But since he had chosen to do so, he liked to see it as an active act of isolation, not the shunning it actually was. He knew he was probably watched, monitored closely and frowned upon. But as long as he did not step out of line or did not put others at risk with his new lifestyle, he would be fine.

He would not tell you that, of course. Maybe another time. But it was not a topic he wanted to discuss tonight. Not with you lying next to him, your heartbeat speeding up whenever you realised the non-existent space between you and him. It gave him hope. And he did not want to spoil that with grim tales of the past.

Still you seemed to sense how much the topic had upset him. At first it were just your fingers, gliding between his, but somehow you thought that it was not enough to comfort him. So you moved, and when he felt half of your weight on top of him, your head resting against his chest, he knew you had been right. This was much better. 

You squeezed his middle gently, imitating a hug as best as you could, and his answer came promptly. Like a pair of wings his arms wrapped around you, so warm, so safe, keeping you so close to him. And once again, the two of you fell silent for a long while. 

“Are you tired?” His lips moved against your hair. “Should we go back inside?”

“No.” You fisted his plush jumper. “I’m good.”

“Just good?”

His insincere displeasure about your answer made you snicker. “I’m perfect.”

“Good, excellent. Everything less than perfect would not have done at all.”

Blindly you reached for him in the darkness and as you found his cheek, you let your hand rest against it. It did not take long before he found you as well, covering your hand with his. He turned his head, just a little, so he could press a kiss to your palm before he brought your joined hands to his chest, somewhere close to your face, you assumed. He kept them there, just holding on to you. But after a while his fingers began to play with yours, and you knew that something was off.

“Will you stay with me?”

His question confused you as much as it surprised you. Was that not what you were doing already? You had decided to stay with him, just a little longer, and against your better judgement. It was a bit superfluous to ask about that now, was it not?

“For the night?”

“No,” his answer was accompanied by something between a huff and a laugh, “that’s not what I meant. Although I really would like you to spend the entire night, here, with me.” He paused, phrasing his next words carefully in his head before he uttered them. “What I meant was…will you be mine, angel?”

It was not a decision consciously made, it was pure instinct as you pulled your hand out of his and sat up.

“To fight the loneliness?”

You felt him sit up as well, and when the candles flickered back to life with another snap of his fingers, the same confusion you had felt a moment ago was written all over his face.

“You said being a vampire means being lonely. Do you need me as your pastime then? Your little pet to keep for company?”

Suddenly his face cleared, a few wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” he smiled as he reached for your hand, and this time you let him take it, “no. I mean, to be honest, you are good company. You’re easy to talk to, you don’t run screaming even though you know what I am, that’s a huge plus. You’re funny, entertaining in a way, intelligent and sweet,” he leaned in to let his lips brush along your neck, higher and higher, until they found your ear, “and that pussy of yours is simply divine.”

You were lost. Completely and utterly lost. There was nothing you could have done to stop that moan from falling from your lips, the same lips he pulled against his to sate that hunger you felt, that deep yearning to feel him again, now, always. 

“Is that a yes then?” he breathed against your mouth.

“Let’s say it’s a maybe. For now. So…” now it was your turn to lean in, to let your cheek glide along his until your lips had reached his ear, “you better convince me, vampire boy.”

His answer came without delay, “Gladly,” but then he pulled away, “Not tonight though. You’re still very weak.”

You were shattered, betrayed, silenced by the ease with which he had built up your want for him just to tear it all down seconds later. You knew what you wanted and what your body could handle, you were not a child. But if he chose to treat you like one, he would get the fitting reply. And so you nudged his arm, as hard as you could. He did not even flinch.

“What was that for?”

“To show you how very un-weak I am.”

Your antics amused him at best, still he pulled you close again for another kiss. He might have hoped to appease you with it, and you had to admit, it was tempting to give in and concentrate on it fully. On his taste, the feeling of his tongue against yours, the softness of his lips…but you were on a mission here. You wanted more, wanted to taste all of him, feel all of him.

At first he did not seem to notice your fingers. They had sneaked underneath the hem of his jumper, carefully venturing deeper until they had found bare skin. It was warm and silky smooth, growing even softer the closer you got to the hem of his dark grey slacks, but before you could dip your fingers underneath it, his hand closed around your wrist.

“Angel, please,” he warned. And still his grip was not too strong, his words already beginning to lack authority.

“I need you, Andrew. I promise I’ll be fine.” You were shamelessly begging now and you did not even care. You wanted him, so much. “Just be gentle with me.” You had given it your all, and he was still not fully convinced yet. “Okay, fine. Just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop. But you have to say it.” You leaned in again, your head diving into the crook of his neck. You knew exactly what you were doing, letting your tongue dart out to draw patterns on his skin, placing a strategic kiss here and there, sucking in his sensitive skin until it drew a hiss from his mouth. “Say it, Andrew.”

You could sense it, the moment he let go of his caution and gave in to his desires. It came with a growl and he moved with precision, like the predator he was, wrapping his arms around you and spinning you around until you found yourself on your back, right underneath his taut body, hands pinned in place above your head. 

“I can’t,” he pressed out, his chest heaving, “you know I can’t. Because I want you, angel, so much. So fucking much.”

You hated the agony in his eyes. There was no need to fight. You both wanted the same. It was so simple. 

“Then have me,” you breathed, lifting your hips to roll against his, while your teeth bit down on your lip, hard, until you could taste blood. 

He was tempted, his eyes going dark the second they took in the single drop of crimson liquid. “I don’t deserve you.” His voice was low, hoarse, snapping your last bit of sanity in a heartbeat.

“Oh, yes, you do.”

And finally, finally he dove down, another deep growl rolling through his chest, hitting you deep to pry out another moan from you. Eagerly he licked your lip, sucking it in to draw another few drops of precious liquid from you. It took him everything to stop, to pull himself away from your bewitching taste, before he would forget himself and sink those fangs of his into you. They were already showing, your eyes growing wide with arousal as they caught a glimpse of them in the dim light. It was intoxicating, dangerously so, but he wanted nothing more than to give you what you needed. He would put them to good use then, show you what else they could do. He would enjoy teasing you beyond reason. As would you.

And he was proven right when a wanton mewl echoed through the night the second he grabbed that white cotton and pulled it from your body. It did not even resist, ripping so easily, exposing your chest and stomach to the starlight. You looked so tantalising, arching your back, the sudden touch of the cool night air making your buds pebble underneath the black lace. 

“I had hoped I would get to see that lingerie on you, angel,” he admitted as he let his free hand roam your skin. “What a shame it is obstructing my view.”

It was only now that he let go of your hands. He had known you would bury them in his hair the second he freed you, and there was nothing he wanted more than to feel them raking through his curls as he dipped down to your chest now. But then he halted, to look at you again, to bask in the unveiled lust in your eyes as he smirked, his lips drifting apart to bare the set of pearly white fangs to you. You wanted to squirm and writhe underneath him, but he held you perfectly still, he needed to if he did not want to risk breaking that delicate skin of yours. And then you stilled too, watched him as he got closer and closer, his teeth finding the fragile piece of black fabric that connected the two cups, just to slice straight through it. 

You were still moaning when he licked a long stripe along the newly bared skin, the wild flutter of your heart clear against his tongue. But he knew you wanted him elsewhere, you were pulling him, so deliciously, and he let you until his lips hovered above yours. Then he stopped, just to frustrate you once again.

“I hate you, vampire boy.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

And with that you pulled him against your lips. Your kiss was searing, and he could taste the same hunger on your tongue that he thought was his privilege and pain alone. Only that your hunger could be sated, and he would not make you wait any longer.

You felt his hands move down your body, felt them unbutton those jeans and you knew he would have to break away soon, and still you whined pathetically when his lips finally left yours. Eagerly he gripped the blue fabric, hooking this fingers underneath the hem of your slip as well to lay you bare in one swift motion. 

His want for you was more than apparent, but he was a giver and so he took his sweet time to return the favour and peel himself out of his clothes right in front of you. This was impossible, absolute madness, your heart racing faster upon the sight of every inch of his pale skin that came to light. He was so beautiful, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and you had never wanted anyone with the same maddening fervour that had befallen you the second you had first laid eyes upon him. 

He was still kneeling in front of you, gazing down at your naked form with those ravenous eyes, and he knew exactly what he was doing when his fingers wrapped around his already hardening length and began to stroke. 

You whimpered, wanting so much to touch him, to feel his weight on top of you as he pushed in deep, but you also knew that he would not. Not yet.

“Spread those legs for me, angel.”

And you did, exposing yourself to him even further, and you loved every second of it. 

“Good girl.” His free hand found your thigh, tenderly caressing the sensitive flesh that had so eagerly awaited his touch. “Now touch yourself.”

Not once did your eyes let go of his, not as your hand made a show of wandering down your body, pinching your nipple on the way just to watch his eyes narrow for a split second, not as your fingers found the wetness between your legs, diving down all the way to gather some of the slick juices that had collected there, not as you moaned when your fingertips found the hidden pearl and began to rub it gently. 

“Mmh,” he hummed, “that’s it. Just like that.”

And as a reward his fingers dug into your thigh a little harsher, kneading the softness they found there. You could tell he was holding back, he wanted to take over, coax those sighs and whimpers from you himself. Your little show had gotten him so hard for you, so ready to dive into that heat and feel you around him. Not long now, you thought, as his fingers began to drift up your thigh. The movement was slow, but you noticed it anyway, and then his fingers found yours, joining them, guiding you at first, applying even more pressure until you moaned his name in sweet agony, and he moved on, deeper, lured by the call of the heat that awaited him so ardently and then he pushed in, gently, slowly, burying himself all the way. 

“Fuck,” he concluded, “so ready for me.” 

You could have come from feeling him inside you alone, but when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up into the light so he could watch them glisten before he let them vanish into his mouth to taste you, you were lost once again. 

Your eyes must have fallen shut from all the pleasure, your senses completely overwhelmed, but the second you felt him, the rub of his entire length against you, the demanding push, they snapped right back open. You could not miss this, wanted to see him the moment you became one, and you were not disappointed. His hands holding your hips, he lifted your behind off the blankets, pulling you onto himself until he had vanished inside you completely. His head lulled back upon the sensation, exposing his long neck. And then his lips parted in a lustful moan as he let the world know of his desire for you. 

“Andrew,” you whispered, and he needed a moment to come back to you. But then his eyes found you, and you would never forget the moment they lit up, as if this was the first time he had ever taken you in. 

“Y/N”, your name fell from his lips as he lowered himself onto you, lured by your call, and you basked in the moment of finally feeling him skin on skin, his weight on top of you, as you had craved for what felt like an eternity. 

Slowly he moved within you, his arms cradling your head as he planted soft kisses along your cheeks, your jaw and finally, finally, against your neck. You arched upon the sensation, pressing yourself into him with a moan that left no doubt about how much you longed for his touch. 

He used the chance to let one arm glide around your middle, and you knew he would give you that extra pleasure when he pulled you even closer against himself. Increasing the speed of his hips, he took you faster, deeper, harder and you loved every second of it. You keened, wrapping your arms around him as he drove you closer and closer to that high that would deliver you from your lunacy at last. Or push you even deeper into it. You did not care. You did not care at all. 

You had him, his breath against your neck, his soft moans collecting in the tiny space that remained between the two of you, his body moving with yours. And that was all you needed. Or at least you thought it was all, until you could feel it built. It came fast, no faint sensation deep within that steadily grew with every thrust, with every moan. It almost leapt at you, coming over you with a might nothing could have ever prepared you for. And amidst the storm it had thrown you in, it was him that you felt. Just him. You felt him as if there was nothing between you, as if you were the same person. Transformed into one, metamorphosised, impossible to separate ever again. 

And it was in this very moment that you knew. It was plain to see, as if it had always been this way, bound by fate. He needed to know as well, needed to hear it from your mouth that you understood now what he must have realised all along. He had expressed it in that simple question, but you had been too proud to see. But you knew now. You knew. And nothing would ever change that again. 

With a sigh, you rested your cheek against his, ready at last to give yourself to him completely. “I’m yours, Andrew,” you breathed, right next to his ear, “I’m yours.”

***

taglist:

@rosecentury

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@fightmespideyboy

@itsleilabxtch

[jung-shook-iieee]

3:15 | JJK

⊶ pairing : jungkook x venom x reader. (f)

⊶ Warnings : cw: 18+ , alien sex? Not technically lol, unprotected sex, creampies, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, stalking, mention of eating people.. Yikes *, overstimulation.

⊶ Word count : 1.4k

" Jungkook and venom really likes you. "

⊶ A/N : venom is scary. Isn't he? 👀

⊶ A/N2 : don't ask me why I wrote this I mean i was just watching an edit of jk x venom and in the next few moment I started writing this. Hehe :)

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Jungkook and his alien buddy aka venom doesn't know if that is love.

They only know that you make their heart beats fast every time they see you; they know that their palms start to sweat when they watch you smile at men who are not them; they both know why their stomach stops growling when your eyes meet by sheer coincidence and they know their cocks gets hard when they silently watch you sleep, hiding in the darkness of your bedroom.

Even though jungkook's body accepted the symbiote but still venom needed permission from his higher ups to stay here a bit longer.

You won't believe how strongly jungkook and the symbiote had built their relationship over a short period of time. They were one after all.

They both followed you around town while you ran errands in that nice short sundress and picturing how you were wearing nothing underneath. They would learned the streets and routes you took when you went out shopping with your friends, the stores you liked best, the dishes you preferred to eat when you went out to lunch with them, the drinks you loved to sip on warm afternoons. They watched as you turned away men who approached you on the way home, the ones who whistled at you - and wasn't it quite mysterious why those men disappeared the next day?

And there's no way you would know that the symbiote ate them alive after you left. Right? :)

And they weren't always this crazy about you. They weren't even aware of your existence until that day. The day when you were going home back and you were drunk, some old perverts tried to molest you. You surely did not remember them, but the moment jungkook laid his eyes on you he lost it, and so did venom. They helped you did not they? Venom munched on their livers in front of you and you weren't even scared of that..!! That's how they knew you were the one.

But jungkook did not wanted to take risk so he asked venom not to do something stupid, which might scare you away.

But then why in the middle of the night you feel yourself being dragged out of your bed by a strange presence??? It must be your dreams, those filthy dreams which can not be converted into reality right? But the grip on your hips were too strong to be a dream.

Jungkook sometimes fail to resist you, he's a human after all! and venom would only ignite his filthy thoughts about you , so they both sneak in your room and sometimes he let venom take control.....!!!!

Jungkook easily lifts you by the waist. he rips off your panties with his thick fingers, his chest is hard as he pulls you toward him, and a thick cock begins to rub between your folds.

"we're gonna make you feel so good princess. " Venom speaks inside jungkook's mind and jungkook mumbled a ' yes. '

" She's ours gguk, make her ours. " Venom growls over jungkook's shoulders, jungkook nodded his head, " She's mine, she's ours. "

it certainly can't be a dream, right? not when your cunt is completely soaked and jungkook starts hissing in frustration when his thick cock doesn't fit your tight slit.

your head falls back as the thick tip of his cock rubs between your slick folds and brushed against your nub.

" Just fuck her goddam kid. " Venom grumbles impatiently.

" Shut up V. We don't want to wake her up now. It's too risky. " Jungkook warned venom.

" Then let her see us, feel us. Let me out I'll take her. " Venom said impatiently inside jungkook's head. Jungkook knew you would not be able to take the symbiote for sure, he would have to prep you for that first.

" No we can't do that right now, fuck fine wait. " Jungkook frowned and he slammed his inside you making you whimper in your sleep. You arched your back and opened your mouth slightly.

"feels good, doesn't it, pretty baby?" Jungkook asks clutching your hips and using you like a fleshlight.

your sloppy cunt makes obscene noises as you are rocked back and forth, your nails scratch his thick arms, and as you reach the edge you gush onto his long shaft.

his chest slowly rises and falls, Beel feels so frustrated. your sweet cunt is too tight for his monstrous cock - damn it, by dint of grinding his head into your slit he'll end up cumming even before he has tasted your smooth walls.

" Ahh. Sto-p." you sob, looking between your thighs, with blurry eyes, slick of pre-cum mixed with your cream coats his huge cock, sliding over your thighs and down your legs.

" Don't stop gguk she's desperate for us. You cannot stop. " Jungkook nods and bites lower lip as started thrusting faster inside you.

Venom increased jungkook's dick size inside you and you can't get enough of it. Your eyes we're teary you could clearly make the difference between a dream and reality but you couldn't utter any word. You weren't pushing him away either and that made jungkook confused

Jungkook holds you firmly under your knees before spreading your legs wide and taking a deep breath. "you smell good and i'm sure you taste even better," he licks his lips before lining you up on his cock.

"Yes she smells divine jeon, the next time I'm eating her out till she faints. " Venom said over jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook only laughed at that.

his cock bullies its way into your slit. he stretches and spreads your cunt inch by inch. you cream when he's half inside, making his job easier.

You moan and cry out as his big hands hold you firmly, . his fat cock throbs inside your slit - in the darkness of the room you can glimpse the outline of his cock in your belly. it makes you feel dirty and aroused, being used as a toy by that creature or human as if you were made just to satisfy those huge, hungry beasts.

Jungkook knows venom is making his dick too big for you, but nothing can stop him, not now that your pretty pussy tightens around his fat girth. his cock throbs as he thrusts deep into it, his balls finally hitting your ass as he begins to bounce you on his veiny shaft.

he tosses you up and down on his veiny cock clutching you behind your knees, holding you wide open as you scream and cum - and he thrusts even deeper, making you come again and again.

" She's such a good girl," Venom murmurs in jungkook's ear as your legs dangle over his forearms. you could cum again just from the position, you're sure.

you become a doll in jungkook's arms as he uses you, bounces you up and down, licks and sucks your neck, murmurs in your ear before filling your belly with his sticky seed

there's so much of it. more and more, there seems to be no end. fills your belly and overflows from your cunt. his cum gushes from your slit even though his thick cock plugs it inside.

when he pulls it out, a pop echoes in your room.

your mixed cum slides out of you and he casually drops you on the mattress. shocked and still shaking you try to catch your breath, your spread pussy is aching, and your limbs are flabby as you slump onto the pillow and fall asleep exhausted.

They both admire the view huffing, venom would fuck you the next time he already made that decision.

They kissed you and cleaned you, though venom was persistent on leaving you like this so you could remember this but jungkook cleaned you nevertheless. He's a good guy isn't he?

Jungkook tucked you under the blanket and left with venom.

maybe you'll have a different dream this time or maybe you'll dream them again. Because, it was a dream after all, wasn't it?

                              °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A/N 3 - do you guys like venom? I mean he's hot. 💀

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