#you puff up like disgruntled cat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsrheasgirl · 1 year ago

Text

ONLY YOURS

VAMPIRE!RHEA X READER

ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ - ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜱᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇʟɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴄᴏᴍʙꜱ (ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

WORD COUNT: 11,042

SUMMARY: IT HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE RHEA HAD BEEN ABLE TO FEED. LUCKY FOR HER YOUR NIGHT OUT WITH YOUR SORORITY SISTERS WAS ABOUT TO BE THE ANSWER TO HER PROBLEM.

TW: Choking, Fingering, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Blood Consumption.

A new nightclub. With its dim lighting, dark corners and smoky atmosphere; it was easy to lurk unnoticed when needed. The perfect place to hide in the shadows and not have to acknowledge the people around you. But that wasn’t always the case; as Rhea was about to find out.

Callus fingers gripped tightly around the crystal that housed rich amber liquid as Rhea’s sapphire gaze scanned the vicinity of her table, her spine pressing firmly into the cushion of her booth as she exhaled a disgruntled sign from her nostrils. It had been days since she had fed, she hadn’t had a moment alone since getting on the plane to work a few days prior and things were getting desperate. The ache in her gums had become excruciating and she wasn’t entirely sure how she was keeping it together.

The bar was packed to the nines with belligerent men who’s only goal was to fuck anything that moved, the occasional sober loser who’d lost a bet and been deemed the designated driver and a hand full of bachelorette parties filled with overly drunk females just looking for an excuse to make out with a stranger. It wasn’t like she was short for something to snack on, but her shimmering hues traveled the entire perimeter of the bar and she saw nothing but a mass of unappetizing obstacles that stood in her way of feeding on what she truly desired.

You didn’t like going out in public; in fact you would much rather be at home with a book and a large glass of red wine than crammed into a tiny nightclub with a ocean of complete strangers and yet here you were. Standing in the smoke pit of the only decent place to drink in town as your best friend Hanna puffed grey smoke from her lips like a chimney.

“Look either you stop acting like I ruined your night, or you don’t, but either way we are getting shit faced. Got it? You owe me.”

Inhaling another long pull from the white stick perched within her fingers till her lungs were full, you waited patiently for the recoil of smoke to cloud the sky before you and for her to speak again. She wasn’t wrong, you did owe her but you didn’t ever expect her to cash in on it.

“I made out with half the girl’s in the sorority to get you in, so suck it up and show them that your were fucking worth it.”

An impish cackle parted Hanna lip’s as slender fingers moved forward to offer the cigarette in your direction, her perfectly manicured brows arch skyward as she gives you a swift up and down. You didn’t want to change yourself to fit in at school, but she was unfortunately right. If you wanted to fit in, you had to follow the rules.

Swallowing a small pool of saliva that had pooled on your tongue, you reach out and generously accept the cigarette into your own grasp. Just one puff, that's all you needed to do to prove yourself and after that you’d never have to smoke again. With a nervous palm, you press the small burning stick between your lips and inhale a violent breath. The heated smoke hitting the back of your throat as you instantly fought back the desire to cough.

“Fuck.”

You choke out as the gust of smog fell from your lips, the corners of cat eyed wings beginning to water as you swiftly handed back the worst decision you’d ever made. That was definitely the last time you’d do that. Giving yourself a few moments to regain your strength, you stand back upright and flash your best friend a concerned smile.

“Yeah, not a fan of that.”

You groaned before pressing your lips in a firm line, a strange tingle in your throat burning as if you’d swallowed hot coals. How was it that so many of your friends could smoke like a chimney and never suffer from such a burn? Not even ice water could soothe the fire in your throat.

You had always wished for Hanna’s confidence; ever since you were kids she had always been the social butterfly and you’d hidden yourself away indoors with your books and your stories. While boys had captivated her, fantasy had captivated you. Losing yourself in a world where anything was possible.

“And you made out with half the girl’s in the sorority because you wanted to, it had nothing to do with me and you know it.”

A small harmonious laugh parted your lips and you glanced down at the outfit you’d been forced into for the night. It hadn’t been your first choice; hell it wouldn’t have been your one hundredth choice but unfortunately, you didn’t get a choice in the matter.

“Did you have to pick something so–”

You pause for a moment, your slender fingers pulling at the hem in an attempt to make the dress seem longer, desperately trying to pull it past your knees.

“Sexy?”

Your best friend replied, not letting you finish your own sentence for fear of already knowing the answer. You’d put up a good fight as she basically painted it on you earlier that night, but you clearly weren't strong enough to save yourself from a night dressed like a dominatrix.

“I was going to say short.”

You snip, still attempting the impossible with the last two inches of your dress. You were already beginning to stress of the dribbling males that would be hanging off your every word and you hadn’t even stepped inside yet. Surely this was taking ‘you owe me one’ a little too far?

“You can’t complain, the dark red goes so well with your milky skin tone and your dark hair. You look like the damsel in distress from your vampire romance novel.”

A soft pink flush comes to your cheeks as your best friend brings up your secret shame that to this day you wish you hadn’t told her about, your heart rate dropping slightly as you compared the imagery in your head. In your mind, you looked nothing like the main female human within your stories. She was delicate like a flower, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a sunset. You were none of those things.

“Are you done? I just want to get this over with.”

Darting your crystal gaze in the direction of the almost burn out stick, you raise your eyebrows in question and motion towards the nightclub entrance with an eager bob of your head.

“Let's go.”

- - - - -

The sweet smell of dry rose mixed with a delicate musk hit Rhea’s nostrils before you’d even set foot in the bar; the second the door opened she was drowned in your floral aroma. The small hairs that lay across her neck standing on end as her fingers tightened, the crystal glass beneath her fingertips creaking under the pressure. It was as if every smell that plagued the bar had disappeared and all that was left was you. You were tantalizing and she had to have you.

“Tequilaaaaa.”

You made it eight steps. You’d been in the bar less than ten seconds and you already wanted to leave. Your nose crinkled as you lean away from the overly loud female, keeping your line of sight on the bar. The faster you got to the alcohol the better and at least you could still have your red wine.

Sliding your palms across the slick bar top; for a split second you forget what you're wearing and lean forward on the bar to gain the bartender's attention, the cool breeze of passers by alerting you of your exposed ass cheeks as you snap back up to standing position. To the naked eye, it would have been missed, gone unnoticed by everyone and you would have gotten away with it. But a split second for humans could be stretched for hours by a vampire; it was a skill that came hand in hand with their inhuman speed.

The whites of Rhea’s eyes darkened slightly as she stared at you from her booth in the corner of the night club, the tips of her fingers turning pure white as she gripped even tighter to the tumbler in her palm. The snow white mounds peeking out from beneath rich crimson fabric had Rhea’s desire for you to increase. There was something primal deep within her that flipped like a switch the second she’d layed eyes on you, the pain in her gums and the burning under her skin like thousands of tiny matches had been lit against her already sensitive flesh. The cheeky peek at what your body looked like out of your dress had Rhea’s plump lip rolling beneath blunt pearly whites, her free palm moving from the booth before her to drag back through slicked back jet black hair.

You were like a magnet; drawing Rhea in, captivating her every sense by doing nothing but exist in the same space as her. The stale smell of old beer and wet cigarettes no longer existed in her nostrils, all she could smell was rose; sweet and fresh. It was the most beautiful smell she’d ever come across and she couldn’t wait to get her teeth into it. Quite literally.

“I’ll have a glass of red, sixteen ounces please.”

“And four shots of tequila!”

Your bestie screamed as you attempted to order your drink, her entire form bumping into you as she crashed into your side with a loud groan. You’d had a few shots before leaving the sorority house and it was becoming very clear to you what kind of drunk you’d be looking after tonight, your forearm wrapping around the shorter female's waist swiftly in hopes to keep her upright.

“Two. And a glass of water please.”

You took a worried look over in your best friend's direction as she held onto your frame, returning your focus swiftly to the bartender as he too watched over your companion with concerned hues. You had more friend’s coming, you wouldn’t have to take care of her yourself all night, but what were you supposed to do before the other arrived?

Slender fingers winding around the stem of your wine glass, your glistening hues scanning around the vicinity as you took a seat at the bar with your inebriated counterpart in tow. Why had you agreed to come out tonight? Why couldn’t have been you washing your hair? Gently crossing one toned leg over the other, you leant back against the bar to rest upon the ledge. You didn’t intend to stay out all night, but a couple of hours out of the house couldn’t be that bad right? Maybe something exciting would happen to you for once.

Rhea’s grip around her beverage had yet to relax, her entire fingers starting to lose color as she continued to hold tightly onto the tumbler. The clear glass beneath her pressure had begun to crack, hairline fractures scattering across the smooth surface as she finally retracted her palm in enough time to save herself from shattered glass littering her flesh.

She couldn’t take her eyes off you, not even for a second. The way your dark curls fell about your shoulders, your exposed collarbones and the plunge of your perked breasts, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You had her captivated in ways that she’d never experienced before and no matter how long it took, she was going to get a taste of you.

“Drink the water, please.”

Small whimpers fell from Hanna's lips as you tried to hold the tall glass of clear liquid against them, your manicured brows knitting together as she reluctantly sipped at the refreshing liquid you so desperately wanted her to drink. She just needed to balance out what she was consuming, one glass of water per alcoholic beverage and you'd have her back on her feet in no time.

“I wanna daaaance.”

Hanna whined, her face turning away from the glass as you lowered it back down to the bar top with a soft exhale of air. Of course she wanted to dance and of course she couldn’t wait for the remainder of your group to arrive. This was supposed to be a simple night out, but it seems that reality had other plans.

Gently taking hold of her wrist, you pull Hanna in your direction and force her to look at you, her glimmering emerald hues cloaked in a pleading expression as she pouted flush lips. You couldn’t say no to her; it was the reason you were out of the house to begin with, but you weren’t a great dancer and if you could avoid it you would.

“How about you finish your water first, huh?”

Another elongated whine fell from Hanna’s lips as her faux pout grew more dramatic, her head shaking side to side with enough gusto to have her long blonde curls hit you in the face. God she was annoying, but over the years you’d gotten used to her stubborn demeanor and her ability to get you on board with whatever she wanted. It didn’t come as a surprise when all she had to do was bat her lashes and everyone would be fawning over her within seconds.

Rolling your eyes counterclockwise as you finish off the last of your wine, you slide the empty glass back towards the bartender and push off your barstool with an exasperated groan. Dancing wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but having the entire bar’s watchful gaze on you as your shapely body moved in a dress that wouldn’t even fit a Malibu barbie was another thing. Pulling the hem of your dress down once more as you tried your best to cover more of your exposed flesh, you finally give up and grasp tightly around the fragile bones of Hanna’s wrists.

“Rule one. You stay upright.”

Yanking Hanna from her bar stool and on to her feet, you lock your crystal gaze with her own. Sure you were probably wasting your breath, but it didn’t hurt to try and get through to her.

“Rule two. Keep your hands off the strangers.”

You could see the excitement growing on Hanna’s face as she realized you were giving in to her request, her energy level practically boiling beneath her skin as she began to bounce in place. Maybe letting her burn off some energy before everyone else arrived would make your evening a little more bearable.

Loosening your hold on Hanna’s wrist only slightly so she didn’t run off towards the dance floor without you, you grasp at the half empty glass of water to have a final attempt at getting her to drink it.

“Finish your water and then we can dance, I promise.”

Watching you closely as you encouraged your friend to down the remainder of her water, Rhea couldn’t help the devilish smirk that claimed her full lips. Your statuesque physique continued to tempt her as she inhaled yet another full breath of your intoxicating scent, the sharp pain in her gums becoming unbearable as she licked a plump tongue across pearly whites. It was clear to her that you wouldn’t be alone any time soon, but she was willing to wait. You were the only person she saw in a sea of bodies and if meant waiting all night to satisfy herself with the rich elixir of your blood, then so be it.

The warmth of the dance floor was definitely off putting, hot and sweaty bodies writhing against each other as the heavy base of the music thumped in your ears. But as your body swayed back against Hanna’s and her lengthy fingers held tightly onto your hip bones, you had to admit to yourself that maybe you were having a good time. It wasn’t public knowledge that you preferred the touch of a beautiful woman to that of a dribbling puppy dog male, but as the delicate touches of Hanna’s fingertips danced against your flesh you couldn’t help the soft whimper that parted your lips.

The harmonious noise of your soft mews flooded Rhea’s earcannels; even with the heavy bass drop, your sounds were all she could hear as she continued to watch you from the corner booth, her darkened hues burning into your slender form as she carefully finished her stiff drink for the fractured glass. Selective hearing was a perk of being undead, focusing on what she wanted to hear and ignoring everything else around her like it didn’t exist. All she saw was you, all she heard was you and all she wanted was you.

“I’ll drink it really slow. Pleeease.”

Hanna whined as she rested her chin down against your shoulder, the warmth of her breath cascading across your skin as she begged you for yet another drink. Your milky flesh pimpling beneath the air that parted her lips as she gently trailed her fingertips up and down the length of your forearm, you let heavy lashes close for a few moments while you contemplated her question. It was no surprise to you that her touch was coursing such a reaction. How were you supposed to stay calm when a beautiful woman had her hands on you? Exuding a small sigh as you turn on stiletto clad feet, you open your eyes to look upon Hanna with a concerned expression.

You didn't want to be the reason she wasn’t having fun.

“Fine. But you drink it really slowly.”

Hanna squealed with excitement as once more she began to bounce in place, her slender fingers gripping tightly around your wrist as she dragged your statuesque form back in the direction of the bar with nothing but joy in her eyes.

You couldn’t begin to understand why girls loved drinking and being out in such crowded places while they did it. What was so appealing about the atmosphere the two of you currently found yourself in? Sweaty bodies, loud music and– A large lump formed in your throat and your mind went blank as your glistening gaze locked onto the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen leaning against the edge of the bar as you approached. Her jet black hair slicked back and away from her perfectly chiseled jaw, her plump lips coated in a burnt red paint, a midnight black suit hugging her muscular form perfectly and a litter of silver rings adorning her lengthy fingers as she stared intently at the bartender who stood motionless in front of her.

“Hi!”

Hanna yelled over the base of the music as the two of you reached the bar top, her emerald hues flitting over to the mysterious stranger as you stood in silence at her side. You weren’t one to talk to people you didn’t know; especially when they looked the way she did. Swatting at Hanna’s upper arm to gain her attention, you raise your brows in a concerned expression before shaking your head gently back and forth.

“Don’t bother people you don't know, Han. I’m sorry.”

Glancing over in the direction of the lady in black, you swallow nervously as her shimmering sapphire hues lock with your gaze. Her eyes were like crystal pools, instantly captivating you and pulling you into their hypnotic state with ease.

Leaning back only slightly on her stool as to peer around Hanna’s form to give you a un-noticeable up and down, Rhea licked her plump tongue slowly over her throbbing gums as an eat shit smirk claimed crimson lips.

“No complaints here.”

Rhea chortled softly. The pads of her fingers coiling around the new crystal glass of amber liquid as she slowly brought it up to her lips, not once breaking the hypnotic connection the two of you shared as she gulped back a mouthful of the burning liquor.

You could feel the color of your cheeks shift, even with the multicolored lights that flashed through the otherwise dimly lit bar you were certain Rhea noticed as she turned her attention back to the bartender who remained motionless in front of her. He hadn’t once looked away; as if he was in a trance, captivated by her movements.

“Glass of red and a fruity cocktail, am I right?”

You could see Rhea as she peeked over at you from her peripherals, the eat shit grin returning to her perfect lips as she took another long sip from her beverage. How did she know what you were drinking? Had she been watching you?

Bobbing your head in a slow motion, you couldn’t help the little smile that tugged the corners of your lips. You should be concerned, right? A complete stranger had been watching you, for how long you weren’t even sure and in any normal circumstance you’d be grabbing your things and heading for the door, but there was something about this woman that made you want to stay. Something about her that had your subconscious spinning and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So what’s with the whole dark and mysterious look you’ve got going on, mysterious stranger? It’s kinda creepy.”

Your mouth fell agape at Hanna’s words, a sudden wave of panic washing over you as you tugged a few strands of her golden hair causing her to whine at the pain.

“What?”

She snipped, turning her gaze back towards you as she rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. She could be so obtuse sometimes and it often led to unwanted confrontation that you had to resolve. With a ‘what the fuck’ expression upon your features, you step around her petite frame to sandwich yourself between her and Rhea as concern once more claimed your face.

“I really am sorry about her.”

Turning your back on Hanna as she continued to rub at her scalp, you faced Rhea head on with an apologetic smile. You didn’t find her attire creep, in fact the darkness of her clothing and depth to her make up made her most captivating feature pop. Her sapphire gaze was truly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, looking into her eyes brought a warmth to your demeanor that you only felt when you lost yourself in your books.

“She doesn’t have a filter and will find pretty much anything to keep herself entertained.”

Rhea didn’t say a word as she leant back on her stool to peek over at Hanna with a raised brow, a small chortle releasing from her chest as she sat back to rest her elbow against the bar.

“I can see.”

Your manicured brow arches in confusion as you take in Rhea’s words, turning back on high heels to find Hanna tongue deep in a complete stranger. The beverage she was supposed to drink ‘slowly’ empty on the bar top alongside two empty shot glasses. Expelling a soft gust of air from your nostrils, you roll your eyes counterclockwise and return your attention to Rhea as she sits sipping her liquor in silence.

“So much for girls' night.”

You grumble as slender fingers wind round the stem of your wine glass, slowly bringing the glass to your lips before swallowing a mouthful of the crimson liquid in one big gulp. You’d expected nothing less from Hanna, she was known for finding anyone or anything to make out with but you didn’t expect it to happen before you had other friends to keep your attention occupied.

Staring down at the last bit of wine as you swirled it round and round in the glass, you exhaled a small sigh before knocking your head back to consume the sweet liquid. The sound of Rhea clearing her throat pulling you back to reality as you placed the empty glass back onto the bartop. You hadn’t noticed her watching you, her dark gaze burning into your milky flesh as you’d dwelled in self pity over losing your friend to some random stranger with a skilled tongue.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?”

Your plush lips curved into an impish simper as your tongue played with each pitfall of your back teeth. You weren’t one to have drinks with a stranger, especially with someone as devilishly attractive as the female in your current company, but what harm would it do to be adventurous. Live on the wild side for once like the heroine in your new novel.

Sliding the empty glass in the direction of the awaiting bartender, you crinkle your nose in contemplation. Maybe you should order something other than wine. You were planning to live on the edge a little, so why not spice up every part of your evening?

“You know what, surprise me.”

- - - - -

The pad of Rhea’s finger danced softly against your neck as she swiped the loose strand of chestnut curls over your shoulder, your exposed flesh causing the heat in her esophagus to rage like wildfire. The steady thrum of your heartbeat like heavy drums in her ear canal as you sipped the fruity beverage she'd chosen for you, blissfully unaware of her staring once more. She could smell the sweetness of your blood as it moved through your veins, pulsing at the sweet spot in your throat like a beckon that kept drawing her in. She couldn’t help herself, everything about you was like torture.

It was a stupid idea for her to be this close to you when she hadn’t fed, one wrong move and she’d be left with quite the mess to clean up and compulsion wouldn’t be an option in a place this busy. She knew she was weak, the lack of human blood always led to dwindling power and one feed wouldn’t be enough to pull her back to full strength. But as Hanna had wandered off into the night with her new found plaything, Rhea had invited you back to her booth with open arms. She wanted to be alone with you, to not let anyone else have you. Your scent had intoxicated every fiber of her being and even with the fire that raged in her gums she couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be, ya know, I've been writing for years but I'm still finding myself with too many sleepless nights when it comes to my current work.”

You weren’t sure why Rhea had become so invested in what it was you did outside of the four walls you both found yourselves in, but as you spoke about your current endeavors with school and the challenges they were bringing you; you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Most people found your creative writing to be boring and often changed the subject to something else whenever you brought them up, but Rhea was hanging off your every word like it was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard in her life. Her piercing gaze fixated on your lips as you spoke, her palm resting beside your thigh on the cushioned seat you shared and her plump lips curved into a devilish simper. She was eating up every single word that you said, which only encouraged you to keep going.

“Fantasy isn’t everyone's cup of tea and I often have to deal with immature frat boys calling me geeky names but when I open my mind up to the world of the supernatural, I can lose myself in a reality more exciting than my own.”

One of Rhea’s brows arched skyward at your mention of the supernatural, the corner of her lip inching into a playful smirk as she took a long sip from her crystal tumbler before setting it down beside your empty glass. So you were a girl who thrived on the suspicion of creatures that didn’t always take human form, how convenient for her.

In a move that would go unseen to the human eye, Rhea shifted her palm to rest down against the exposed flesh of your thigh. The tips of her fingers toying playfully with the hem of your tiny dress as she leant in to press the flush of her lower lip against your ear. She could hear the increase of your heartbeat before you could realize its speed, the pad of her thumb catching the sensitive part between your legs only causing the sound to grow louder.

“Supernatural you say.”

Rhea’s blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear as she spoke, her lips moving painfully slowly as she began to press a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. You’d never had someone make a move so quickly after nerding out about school, but the delicateness of Rhea’s actions had you melting under her touch. A soft mew parting your lips as you tried to remain focused on your breath. You couldn’t let on how desirable Rhea made you feel, you barely knew each other.

The blood pumping beneath Rhea’s lips had her free palm gripping tightly at her empty glass, her subconscious trying its best to focus on not ripping out your throat and not the strength she was using.

“Are you actually interested, Miss Ripley? Or are you just acting interested to get in my panties?”

Your head lulled to the side in attempts to beckon Rhea closer, your thighs parting only slightly to tempt her playful hands as her fingers continued to toy with your dress. This wasn’t you. Not normally, but there was something about Rhea that had your mind reeling. She made it hard for you to focus, it was like she had an aura that played with your senses and clouded your brain.

You felt Rhea’s lips morphe into an eat shit smirk against your skin as she nipped sharply against your pulse point, the strength behind each nip leaving purple marks in their wake. Your own lips pressing into a harsh line as you fought back a plethora of pleasurable moans that threatened to break free, your head tilting back against the cushioned wall behind you as your fingertips gripped the edge of the booth.

You were hidden away from eighty percent of the bar in your corner booth, the patrons all too focused on each other to pay your little endeavors any attention. You could whimper and moan all you wanted, the music was far too loud for anyone to hear. She could use you like a rag doll and no one would be the wiser.

“What if I said both?”

You could feel the flush of Rhea’s lips move against your collarbone as she spoke, the sharp nips against your flesh pausing for only a few seconds as she addressed your question, quickly resuming once she was done. You couldn’t begin to imagine what your throat looked like as Rhea’s skilled lips continued their magic, your fingers only gripping harder at the booths ledge as you held in your breath to calm your desire.

There was no way that you’d found someone who not only showed interest in you but also in your work. They weren’t often a thing that came hand in hand and a part of you was beginning to doubt yourself. This had to be a set up. Your friends were just playing some sick joke on you and Rhea was just attractive bait to lure you into a trap.

“Is it wrong for me to say I don’t believe you?”

You probably should have kept your mouth shut, but once you had an idea in your head, you had to act on it.

The burning sensation of Rhea’s kiss as they marked your skin stopped suddenly, her sapphire gaze retracting to meet your questioning own as the corners of her lips twitched into a devilish simper.

“Come now kitten, what kind of a woman do you take me for? Lying to you just so I can get you out of your dress? I should be offended.”

You couldn’t stop the sudden increase of your heart rate as Rhea’s little pet name caught you off guard, the plush of your lower lip rolling tightly between pearly whites as you kept your gaze locked with hers. You couldn’t think of what to say. She didn't seem offended, the unbelievably desirable smirk remained plastered on her lips as the pad of her thumb once more found itself dancing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. She wasn’t backing down, not even slightly and if she still wanted you, she could still have you.

You could feel the lump resurfacing in your throat as Rhea’s sapphire hues burnt into your own, the devilish glare within them pulling you further and further into her web as her plump tongue coaxed over her painted lips. She was staring at you like a hungry lioness stalking her prey and with each passing second your cravings for her lips back on your skin grew stronger. What had this woman done to you?

With a swift motion you barely noticed, Rhea’s fingertips from her free palm moved to sweep back the dark curls that clung to your shoulder, pushing them down your spine to reveal the soft curve of your shoulderbone to her wandering gaze. She’d not looked away from you for most of the night and yet there was so much more of your slender form she wanted to see.

Pressing her heated kiss back down against the hollow of your collarbone, you can’t help but expel the soft mews that had been clinging to your lungs. Even the slightest of touches; be it fingers or lips, had you reveling in desire. Every part of you screaming for her touch as you leant into the passion of her aura.

Without a word, your thighs parted once more. Your entire body was begging for her to take it as her own and the longer she made you wait, the harder it became to keep yourself contained. You didn’t usually beg for someone to be this close to you. On your usual Saturday nights, you were wrapped in a blanket with your laptop, writing your novel and wishing your life could be as exciting as the heroines you wrote about. Falling in love with supernatural beings, learning about a whole new world and chasing dreams that didn’t exist in a human’s reality.

Chewing at the plush of your lower lip, you let heavy lids fall closed. The sensations of Rhea’s lips moving effortlessly against your jugular vein had your heart racing, the heavy thrum like music as it played in her ears. The pain beneath her gums raged; growing more intense by the second as her fingertips pressed into the creamy flesh of your upper thigh. She wanted you and you wanted her, it was clear to you both where this night could end.

A small wince echoes from your chest as your blunt teeth punctured the top layer of skin upon your lower lip, the rich taste of copper coating your tongue as Rhea’s entire form went rigid. She could smell the blood as it pooled from the injury you inflicted on yourself, causing the depths of her gaze to darken. The smell flooded her nostrils as she held herself still against your neck, keeping her features away from your gaze as the tips of her canines began to ache. Her control was weak, the lack of human blood over the last few days had left her with no power left to curb her desires. She could feel the monstrous rage that came hand in hand with feeding off a fresh vein boiling under her skin, the tips of her fingers pressing into your thigh enough to leave purple blemishes beneath the tips.

“Rhea?”

Your tone was laced with question as you spoke her name, concern flooding your features as you pulled away from her heated lips that still held their place against your throat. Your head craning to the side in attempts to look upon her motionless form, you swallowed nervously as your gaze fell upon the unexpected. The depth of Rhea’s eyes caused the air in your lungs to catch, your throat growing tight as a lump in your windpipe kept you from breathing out even a single breath. Was it a trick of the lighting? Were the shadows playing tricks on you?

Sucking the blood that had pooled on your lower lip into your mouth, you force out a stammered breath. It had to be your mind, it was playing tricks on you. There was no way that what you were witnessing was true. It couldn’t be. But as your mind played back over the night's events, your heart rate began to increase once more; only this time you had other things on your mind.

You hadn’t seen Rhea once since entering the nightclub and yet all of a sudden, there she was. Making herself a part of your night without even trying. Her dark demeanor and captivating eyes, her beauty and enticing persona. It was as if she’d been written to be perfect by your own mind. You played back each and every moment of the night as Rhea simply watched you, the black glaze to her once sapphire hues somehow still so captivating as you pieced things together. The stranger that had caught Hanna’s attention so quickly, the speed behind some of Rhea’s actions along with the ones that seemed to go unnoticed until they didn’t, her obsession with the soft spot of your pulse point and her ability to bruise your flesh with almost no effort. She was strong and fast. It wasn’t real, It couldn’t be.

It would only take a moment for Rhea to make you compliant, to get what she truly needed from you, but as she watched the light in your eyes flicker with excitement— only for a second, she doubted herself. You didn’t seem scared, in fact the complete opposite. Why didn't you run? It was clear you knew something no one else did and yet you hadn’t made one move for the exit.

Stretching out your palm to trace a singular finger over the arch of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled cheekbone, you swallowed back the lump in your throat with one thing on your mind. If this was real, if you were sat in the presence of something no one else believed in, then you would dive into the reality with both feet. Watching as the depth of her gaze shifted back to the bight blue you’d fallen so deeply for, you drop your hold on her features and grasp tightly at Rhea’s palm that sat on the table beside her empty glass.

“Come with me, Mami and I'll give you what you need.”

Giving Rhea’s hand a gentle tug as you slid from the booth and encouraged her to follow, you couldn’t help the impish glimmer that flickered in your eyes. If this moment was going to play out how you imagined, you needed a little more privacy.

- - - - -

The arch of your spine slammed against the reflective glass of the full length bathroom mirror as Rhea pressed against your slender form with all she had, the heat of her kiss against your jugular once more as you pawed at her shoulders in attempt to remove the suit jacket that clung to her torso. You could feel the hunger resonating out of Rhea’s form, her blunt nails puncturing the soft flesh of your thigh as she pulled your leg up to her waist. She was starved and as the moment between you grew hotter and hotter, it became harder and harder for Rhea to remain focused. Your pounding heartbeat didn’t exactly help the situation either.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Rhea practically moaned as she wound her lengthy fingers into the mass of your chestnut curls, her palm tugging down to expose more of your milky throat for her to ravish with her purple marks.

“Because I know where this goes.”

You whine as Rhea scatters a brand new chain of bruises around your neck, her palm moving you head like a puppet as she moves from one side of your throat to the other.

“I’ve written this story.”

Rhea’s interest peaked as you unknowingly gave away a part of the story you had yet to talk about. The question being which supernatural it was you wrote about. Trailing the tip of her nose up the left side of your jugular, across the perfect angle of your jaw and slowly up to your right ear, she gently sucked the lobe between her devilish lips before whispering softly against your ear.

“Then tell me Kitten, how does our story go?”

Were you about to quote your own book?

Use lines you’d written with the intention of never truly being said.

The warmth of Rhea’s breath against your ear makes your lids flutter, your fingers moving to toy with the first button of her slightly opened shirt as you turn your head slightly to find her oceanic hues. They were your words, you had written them, so why couldn’t you speak them? Popping the first button of Rhea’s shirt and swiftly moving to the second one, you lick across your front teeth before using the tip of your nose to bump her chin enough for you to find her ear.

You needed the right inflection, to commit to the part if you wanted it to work out and fuck did you want it to work out. Pressing a scatter of heated kisses along the perfect angle of Rhea’s jawline, you nipped playfully at her earlobe for letting out your words in a whisper.

“Take my body as your own, sinking your teeth deep into my skin; show me no mercy.”

Your voice dripped with desire as you popped yet another button on Rhea’s shirt, the pads of your fingers dancing across the skin as you exposed it to your gaze. Taking to the next button as you pressed a warm kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“Rip out everything mentally and let it explode physically.”

The whites of Rhea’s gaze began to grow dark as your words played with her hunger, tugging at the strings like torture. Your ravenous lips pressing another few kisses across her jawline.

“Grab hold of me, thrust and tear me chaotically, spilling your rage all over me.”

Finally reaching the last of the buttons on Rhea’s shirt, you pull the tails free from the leather belt that kept them at bay to expose her bare breasts to the air of the smoky bathroom.

“Hate me, love me, destroy me.”

Shifting your lips to peck repeatedly at Rhea’s own in hopes she would simply take you; there and then, you hike up your free leg to eagerly wind them both around her waist. Her weight against your form as you were pressed back into the mirror kept your bodyweight up, your hips grinding down against her own in attempts to get comfy.

Pulling at your hair and yanking your head back and away from her, you watch as Rhea’s lips morphed into a eat shit smirk. You watched in awe as the depth to her glazed eyes became darker, the grin upon her face peeling back to reveal elongated canines that almost glimmered in the bathroom lighting.

Vampire. Your subconscious screamed as you chewed playfully at your lower lip, your present mind not once thinking of the danger you could be in and ignoring the desire any normal human would have to run.

“Use me. Claim me.”

You uttered as your palms slid into the small of Rhea’s back, your slightly pointed nails pressing into her flesh as you slowly clawed them up her spine before winding them into her onyx tendrils. It took less than a second for Rhea’s palm that held tightly onto your thigh to snap up around your throat, her callus fingers tightening instantly to restrict the air escaping your lungs as she licked hungrily across her pointed fangs.

“Make me your plaything and fuck me, mia regina.”

(“ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ.”)

Rhea’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as your fluent Italian flooded her ears, a shallow growl vibrating in her chest as she snapped her lips back against the shell of your ear.

“Oh dolce Gattino, ho intenzione di farlo.”

(“ᴏʜ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ, ɪ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ.”)

Each moment with Rhea was like you’d planned it, every detail of the night following that of your own imagination as she returned your foreign language without effort. Smoothing her thumb over the vein on your pulse point, she slacked off the hold she had on your throat just enough to allow you breath. Her heated breath washed over your ear as she continued to speak.

“Perché da ora in poi sei mio. Solo mio.”

(“ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”)

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as Rhea’s flawless Italian continued to drive itself into your consciousness, your heavy lids fluttering closed as her muscular form pulled you against her chest to relocate you to the sinks ledge. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you, about to be ravished beyond your wildest dreams by a walker of the night.

You couldn’t bring your gaze away from Rhea’s bare chest as her knee pushed itself between your own, driving your thighs apart enough for her to slide into the space she'd created with a devilish chortle. The darkness of her gaze continued to deepen, the vice-like grip around your throat tightening once more as she tilted your head back to have you look up at her with widened eyes. You could still breathe, but as Rhea’s fingertips pressed into the sides of your jugular you prayed to the heavens that she’d squeeze tighter. That she’d pull you into a new euphoria and heighten the desire that pooled between your legs.

“Only yours.”

You whimpered as the crushing sensation in your windpipe trapped the sound within its walls. Rhea was driving you crazy, each passing second pulling you further into a daydream as your palm moved to trace your fingertips over the wigs that spread over her sternum. Your blunt teeth gripping the flush of your lower lip as you took in every detail of the intricate tattoo, fracturing the delicate skin once more as the pressure became more intense. You could taste the blood as it bubbled to the surface once more, the coppery taste coating your taste buds as your fingers dropped from their soft touches to Rhea’s skin.

“I’m sor–”

You didn’t have the time to finish your apology before Rhea’s hunger found the soft plush of your lip, the heavy tug of her pulling the blood clean from the cut causing a delicate moan to vibrate from your chest as your fingertips gripped around the sinks ledge. She’d fought back every desire you’d thrown at her. Your scent, the heavy thrum of your heartbeat every time she’d touched you, but as the warm elixir of your life’s essence washed over her tongue, Rhea broke. She was done holding back, you’d given all the permission she needed to take you as her own and fuck was she about to take advantage of it.

The grip around your throat disappeared without you even realizing, both Rhea’s palms finding your hips to pull your ass forward. The hem of your crimson dress hitching higher up your thighs to expose more of your creamy flesh as Rhea’s darkened gaze simply watched in pleasure, her flush lips curving into her signature eat shit smirk as her tongue slid over elongated fangs. She wanted to taste every part of you, feel every part of you beneath her lips.

Tracing the pads of her fingers over the expanse of your soft thigh with one palm, Rhea craned your head slightly to press a scatter of kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your neck. The sharp points of her teeth catching your flesh every so often had you reeling, your legs twitching slightly as you felt the gentle touches of Rhea’s lengthy fingers trace between your thighs and ever closer to the heated core. The lace that shielded your wetness from her eager fingertips growing damper as Rhea’s released a deep moan against your earlobe.

“Take all of me Mami, please.”

You begged, swallowing a large ball of saliva as it pooled on your tongue.

“Take my body. My mind. My soul.”

You could feel the chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips as she moved her kiss back down your throat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what damage she’d done to your milky skin by this point, but as your flesh burned beneath each hungry kiss, you let your mind wonder.

The sensation of skilled fingertips pulling aside your soaked panties and sliding between your slick folds yanked you from your subconscious, an unexpected moan parting your lips as Rhea slowly circled your sensitive bundle of nerves with her thumb. Your spine slowly arching forward with each new sensation, you chewed at the uncut side of your lip to suppress your whimpers.

“Non nascondermi il tuo piacere, Gattina. Lascia che ti ascolti.”

(“ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”)

Rhea uttered against your skin as she slowly swiped her finger up and down the slit of your folds, pressing the tip against your entrance as she dragged sharp points across your shoulder. She wanted to give you pleasure before she took some for herself, but as the heat behind her gums burned, she contemplated how much longer she could hold back before she’d be forced to line her esophagus with your sweet nectar.

“Sì, Mami.”

(“ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴍɪ.”)

You whined as the tip of Rhea’s finger at your entrance caused your back to arch and your thighs to twitch, another heavy moan falling from your lips as she slowly began to insert her finger between your tight walls.

You still couldn’t believe what you were doing. Rhea could kill you if she so desired and yet you’d played into her web perfectly. She had you wound around her finger so tightly, in more than one sense and as she added an additional finger to the warmth of your core you couldn’t help yourself but call out her name.

Your thick lashes fluttered closed as Rhea’s palm cupped around the back of your neck, pulling your features forward to capture your lips with her own. A small wince echoing in your throat as her pointed teeth caught the small slice you’d caused but she didn’t seem to care as her tongue pushed past the barrier and began to explore your mouth, her fingers diving further into your wetness as she began to curl them against your sweet spot.

“Fuck.”

You purred, as Rhea’s kiss disappeared. Your lids snapping open as you felt the tips of her fangs drag against your pulse point. Was she about to feed off you? You were surprised that it hadn’t already happened. Vampires were written with a take what they want attitude, feed and move on. Rhea had already tasted your blood once and with that you’d expected her to rip into you like a wild animal, drain your life's essence and disappear into the night as if she never existed.

Tilting your head slightly to allow Rhea as much room as she needed for her feed, you close your eyes tightly. Would it hurt? You had no idea, but you had no intention of denying her. You could hear your heartbeat in your own ears and could only imagine what it was doing to her. The heavy thrum pounding out a perfect rhythm as you swallowed unknowingly out of nerves.

“Scared, Kitten?”

The dominance in Rhea’s voice had your fingertips gripping the countertop in seconds, your hips twitching forward against her palm as her two fingers continued to pump in and out of your slick walls without a sign of stopping. You weren’t scared, the complete opposite in fact; but you couldn’t bring yourself to form a sentence and instead a plethora of moans took the place of your words as her fingers curled perfectly against your sweet spot with each thrust. The chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips was almost evil as it vibrated in her throat, her heated kiss pressing once more against your jugular before her gaze pulled back to witness your tightly closed lids and monstrous grip upon the sink.

Slowing the rhythm of her thrusts only slightly with hopes of getting a reaction, Rhea’s painted lips curved into her signature smirk as your lashes fluttered and you lids peeled open. The darkness behind her gaze was still very present, the points of her teeth sharper than ever and yet she still hadn’t taken you as her latest blood bag. Why?

“I'm not scared of you.”

You stammered through labored breath.

“Prends-moi, brise-moi, s'il te plaît.”

(“ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ.”)

Once more Rhea’s lips peeled back in an almost demonic grin. Each time you saw the sharpness of her fangs it caused your heart to swoon, pulling you deeper and deeper into your own fantasies. Craving them to puncture your flesh and drag you into euphoria.

“As you wish”

Was all Rhea uttered as her rhythmic pulse against your core returned to its fast pace. You could feel the band in your abdomen tightening with each pump of her fingers, your head lulling back against the mirror as the fingertips from her free hand moved to sweep the hair back from your shoulders.

Was she about to give in? Were you finally about to experience what only the characters in your novel felt as an attractive female fed from you?

You could feel your peak approaching, each passing second Rhea pleasured your core pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You wanted her now, more than you had all night. Ever since the moment you realized what she was and what she could do to you, all you could think about was her sharp fangs plunging into your flesh and the euphoric state being connected with someone in such an intimate moment would bring.

Releasing the sink ledge and stretching out your palm in search of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled jawline, you traced your thumb against her smooth skin before cupping the nap of her neck. You didn’t want to be pushy, but you were losing your patience with the amount of time it was taking to feel her lips against your skin and with your pleasure soring, it was now or never.

Chewing at your punctured lip as you fought back the pleasured moans Rhea’s fingers pulled from your chest, your hips eagerly bucking against her. You couldn’t form words as she continued to bury her fingers third knuckle deep into your tight core, your chest beginning to rise and fall in labored pants as they forced their way out of your lungs.

“P-pl-please, Mami.”

You begged, your nails pressing into Rhea’s neck as you greedily rode her palm.

“Please.”

The word was barely air; let alone sound and would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. But as the sound of pleasured begging flooded Rhea’s eardrums, she followed your wordless request and leant forward to once more ravage your flesh. She could not only see the pleasure in your face, but feel it. She knew how to pull you over the edge and it wasn’t with her master finger skills.

Scrapping her sharp teeth over the pulsing point beneath your jugular, Rhea slowly wound her free palm around the length of your neck, her lengthy fingers coiling like a snake around the fragile column before snapping it to the left, exposing the long vein line to her aching gums. You’d begged her for it. For her to take you. Break you. Destroy you. Increasing the pace of her thrusts into your tight walls, you can't help but whimper as Rhea’s palm tightens around your neck and restricts your ability to breath.

“Last chance, Kitten. Sure you don’t want to run?”

Rhea uttered against your skin, the vibration of your pulse beneath her lips driving her insane as she licked the flat of her tongue across your jugular vein. You couldn’t answer her and she knew that, the constriction she had around your throat was almost cutting you dry and all you could manage was to gently bob your head in response to her question. You definitely didn’t want to run, you wanted to cum.

With a few more pulses of Rhea’s skilled fingers into your desperate core, you couldn’t hold back again longer. The band in your stomach wound so tight that you could feel tears behind your lids as you teetered on the edge of release. The sweet taste of your climax hitting like a tidal wave as the sudden sensation of pointed fangs punctured the supple flesh of your throat.

“Oh my… god… fuck!”

You panted as your own grip on Rhea’s neck tightened, your fingertips winding into onyx locks to hold her in place as your high crashed through you like a train. It was completely indescribable and yet it all felt right. You’d chosen to entertain Rhea in her little games all night long and your reward had been worth the wait.

As the warm elixir of your blood coated Rhea’s tongue and down her esophagus her entire form shifted, the energy she’d been lacking returning and her strength increasing ten fold.

Releasing your throat so as to not hurt you, Rhea’s palm slipped to your hip as you rode out your wave against her palm. The counter beneath you became slick with your wetness as she continued her pace with ease, pumping in and out to keep you on your high as long as possible. Feeding was euphoric on its own terms, but as your body trembled beneath her touch Rhea clued in to just how she was making you feel.

Your blood was rich and almost sweet, coating every inch of Rhea’s mouth as she continued to guzzle down the crimson liquid. Her eyes growing darker and darker with each mouth full. She’d never had a problem controlling herself when she was feeding, only inflicting injury on those who’d found themselves on the wrong end of a fight. But there was something about your life’s essence that caught her by surprise, her stomach filling but her desire only growing stronger.

“R-Rhea.”

You stammered. Your grip on her neck falling slack as your mind became fuzzy and your strength to hold on grew weak. The sensations you began to feel swirling in your subconscious as you contemplated letting her finish. ‘It will kill you!’ One side of your mind screamed. ‘But you don’t want to lose this feeling.’ Shouted the other, the two sides arguing causing the brain fog to expand as you whimpered softly. You’d never felt a sensation quite like having Rhea feed from you, the pull of blood leaving your body mixed with that of your mind clouding had you almost floating. Flying above everything as she suckled the life from within your form.

It was as if Rhea knew she needed to stop, the soft sting at your jugular disappearing instantly as she pulled free from your skin. A coat of crimson plastered over her smeared lips as she swallowed back her mouths contents to speak.

“Hey Kitten, talk to me. You doing okay?”

You could hear Rhea’s words and yet somehow still couldn’t answer her. Your high had already fallen, your mind clearing slightly as her muffled words fought to be heard, but with your vision still blurred and your mind still buzzing, you swallowed back with the little strength you had. A sharp wince pulling from your chest as the pain in your throat became noticeable.

“I’m fine.”

You slurred as the soft tips of Rhea’s fingers slid around your chin, her sapphire gaze returning once more as she pulled herself back to human looking status and turned your limp neck to have you face her. The pad of her thumb grazing over your cheekbone as she curiously examined your features. Physically you looked fine, her manicured brow becoming arched as she continued to search your expression.

“I’m fine.”

You repeated, this time a lot more assertive, as a cheeky grin claiming Rhea’s lips. Her palm still cradled around your chin and supporting your head, she couldn’t help the small chortle that vibrated in her chest.

“So it was just that good, huh?”

Rhea’s brow arched slightly as she licked her plush tongue over crimson stained lips, cleaning up every last drop of your blood that stained her kiss as you watched her closely. You could see the tiny shift in her ocean gaze as your blood cleansed her palate, your own lip rolling beneath your lips in you held in a small whimper.

“Better than the books.”

You uttered, a small laugh muffling in your mouth as you held your lips tightly with your teeth. Of course you had no idea what it would truly feel like, your imagination not even beginning to create such imagery as you’d written such a moment. Being with a vampire was supposed to be fantasy.

Rhea chuckled softly as she smoothed her thumb over the punctures left by her fangs, a small stinging sensation shooting up your spine as her pressure against the open wound increased slightly. Your lips falling lax as delicate moan pushed passed them, the same pleasure you’d felt as she fed from you bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve got one last treat for you, Kitten.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to play off what else she could possibly do for you, hers sapphire hues keeping you very captivated as you hum a delicate tone.

“What else could you possibly have prepared for me, Mami?”

You purr as a singular finger lifting to trail over the perfect curve of Rhea’s jawline, your tongue coaxing over your lower lip as thick lashes flutter slightly. You’d known each other less than a few hours and yet somehow you’d found yourself willing to do anything in order to keep her around.

Watching you intently, Rhea’s lips curve into an impish smirk, her palm dropping from your cheek and moving to the supple plush of her lips in a fluid motion. The darkness in her gaze glimmering back to the surface, only for a few seconds as she ripped open the cluster of veins in her wrist.

“One, I can’t let you walk out of here with that.”

Rhea’s gaze flicked to the wound upon your neck and then swiftly back to her wrist as a small pool of blood formed against her skin. Sapphire pools rising up to meet your gaze with an almost protective smirk.

“And two, you're mine now, remember and I’m not done claiming you yet.”

Blood bonding. Was she serious? You didn’t expect to ever see Rhea again after tonight, but if you knew anything about the supposed existence of blood bonding between supernaturals you’d never be able to leave her side again. A sires bond, linked to each other no matter how far apart the world tried to pull you.

“You’re asking me to—”

Your words trail off quickly, your crystal gaze still locked with Rhea’s as your tongue pushes through your lips. You were definitely curious, did a vampire's blood taste different to your own? But could you take the risk of locking this woman into your life forever?

“No.”

The tone in Rhea’s voice dropped, the authoritative demeanor she now held making the words that fell from her lips a clear order.

“I’m telling you to.”

You swallow nervously, certain you’d obey her before you’d even fully processed the request as you sit up right on the sink ledge and adjust the hem of your dress. You didn’t even want to think what your hair looked like as you pulled a palm through the sweaty tangles, coughing lightly to clear your throat as you took one last moment to breathe.

“Do you trust me?”

It was strange to you how Rhea could almost play two completely different people, the dominance of her darker self and concern of her human form playing hand in hand as she spoke to you. The demanding attitude from before instantly replaced with protectiveness as she sensed your nerves.

Bringing both of your palms to hold them together in her lap as you looked down at twitching fingers, you inhaled one last breath before and focused on steadying your heart as you looked up in search of Rhea’s gaze. Looking into the depths of her eyes was calming, like looking out and the ocean and you knew if you could find her pools all would be okay.

The warmth behind Rhea’s gaze as you found it was the most comforting it had been all night, all the darkness within her almost melting away as she waited for your answer. She couldn’t let you leave the bathroom with such a disaster upon your throat, but she didn’t want to force anything on you unless she had too.

“I trust you.”

You finally uttered. Your words weren’t loud but they were loud enough for Rhea to hear as she took a small step closer to you, positioning herself perfectly between your thighs as her free palm cradled your neck.

You could almost smell the richness of Rhea’s blood as you wrapped both your palms around her wrist, your mouth unexpectedly flooding with saliva as you took in the sight before you. It was now or never, you wanted this moment to mean something. You wanted to show her that you’d felt something between you that you were willing to bond together and not have this moment be ruined by her forcing it all on you.

“Feed me and make me yours.”

You whisper, an impish grin claiming your lips as you coated blunt teeth with your tongue and lean gently against Rhea’s palm.

“Forever.”

- - - - -

TAGLIST: @coolbeans-17 @rebecca-quin @jemilyforever @marvel1995 @ripleyxo @littlemiss-fanficlover @12emi26 @riverscyberwife @ellabsdarling @lostintimeandmusic @imjohnnycake @55tarboy @jaye500 @call-me-a-simp @girlofpink @mizfortunez @eradicatabitch @jinxeilish @witchyweeb34 @bl0w-m3 @realskyewalker66

423 notes · View notes

lale-txt · 5 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

♫ Sleeping At Last - Two

I don't even know where to start // Already tired of trying to recall // When it all fell apart // I just want to love you, to love you

word count: 3.2k

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo moves in the next day.

Or at least that is when she puts his name up on the doorbell and the mailbox. He stands next to her when she does, their shoulders almost brushing and the keys to his new place jingling in his palm. Before that, he watched her type up his name on an old typewriter and she gave him a slightly disgruntled look when he asked why she’s not doing it on the computer.

“It’s faster this way, believe me,” she muttered and then sent him off to go feed Jiji as if that’s something he’d done countless times before. Like he belonged here already. Backoffice, top shelf, the tuna one. Half a can is enough. Don’t let his big round eyes fool you. (He did, in fact, let the cat’s big round eyes fool him.)

Yesterday, after he viewed the apartment, she told him to sleep on it for a night to see if he really wanted it or if it was just the whim of a moment. Kuroo wanted to protest, but he figured she had a point. It’s been a day for him–a burst water pipe in his old apartment, almost getting hit by a car on his way to work, the one comment by his boss that made him write his resignation letter while he was still in the meeting–all before noon.

On top of that it’s been pouring all day, too. Of course it was.

He knew he had to get out of here. The buzzing heart of downtown Tokyo didn’t excite him anymore, it drained him, scared him. The monotony and the loneliness, the anonymity and the coldness of the people around him. It’s like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He left the office on autopilot and walked to the closest station, took the next train out of the city and just got off somewhere in the outskirts of town, an area which's name he only read on the map before.

It was all intuition that brought him here. Maybe the stubborn refusal that this was his life. There must be more to it, right? There had to.

Kuroo was tired. He had been tired for a very long time.

After walking out of the station he rented a bike, earning himself a slightly concerned glance from the shop owner (because surely he must have looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown) and started exploring the neighborhood in the pouring rain. Because it was either this or going back to suffocating in his shoebox of an apartment. An easy choice.

Calm. That’s how he felt while he explored these narrow streets, all sounds of the world muffled by the pitter patter and his own huffs and puffs while he pedaled. It was kind of freeing, feeling the rain on his skin and the clear air in his lungs. As if he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

All buildings here were much smaller than the big skyscrapers in Tokyo, and it was greener, despite autumn being around the corner. There were a lot of local shops, none of the usual chains with the same clothes and the same food you see in Shibuya, no–stores that still had a soul. He passed by a flower shop where he saw the owner arranging a beautiful bouquet, a record store that blasted early 2000s J-Rock, and eventually stopped by a sandwich shop to grab himself a bite.

While he waited for his order, he spotted the flyer in the window.

It broke all rules of good graphic design but somehow that only made it more endearing. Someone slapped half a dozen different Wordarts on one page, printed it out, then apparently added more handwritten notes–in a really messy handwriting on top of that–to it and afterwards made a few low-quality copies at the local copy shop on a printer that’s running on ink from the past century probably.

Kuroo was intrigued by it.

>> Apartment for rent >> 3 rooms + kitchen + bath + backyard >> comes with a cat (Jiji. you have to get along) >> everything’s a little broken (the cat is not. however he is the reason for it at times) >> more info at The Heirloom (open monday-saturday; 10am-6pm or just knock)

The flyer also contained a photo of said cat, or at least traces of it–due to the poor quality and the presumably black fur of Jiji all that could be seen were two small orbs in a void. When he tried looking up the address of the store mentioned, he didn’t get any results which made him wonder if the flyer was as ancient as it seemed. The shop staff who handed him his order noticed his confusion and shook their heads and laughed, then kindly explained that the data online probably wasn’t up to date since the owner preferred to do things the old school way. They drew him a small map on a napkin that would lead him there, to The Heirloom.

On his way there he wondered what kind of person the owner was like. Someone elderly maybe? Or was he just biased because in his head an antique shop had to be run by someone who was at least 300 years old? At least the people in the sandwich shop all smiled at the mention of the shop owner, one of them the girl from the flower shop he passed by earlier. Each of them had something nice to say which he took as a good sign.

Oh, she bought the broken necklace I inherited from my mother, said she could give it a new life. I spent my entire uni years at her shop, the book collection there is endless. It’s impossible to leave without buying something, right? Yesterday I saw a girl walking out with three vases and two bags dangling from her arms, really got the full Heirloom experience it seems.

All Kuroo had was a name, the crumpled flyer in the pocket of his shirt and the gut feeling that they were destined to meet.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the store was the sign above the door, faded letters and the coating of them peeling a little, but it only seemed to add to the overall charm. It was an antique store after all. The entire building seemed a little older than the rest of the street and from what he could tell through the fogged up shop windows, the inside glowed warm and welcoming, even more on a rainy day like this. The old door bell announces his visit when he takes the first step into his new future.

He’s overwhelmed by the masses of antiques, some of them stacked up to the ceiling. There’s bookshelves that look as if they’re about to collapse at any moment and at the same time as if they’ve been built to last a thousand years, possibly longer. Ailes leading in the depths of the store, like a maze you could get easily lost in. There’s a bit of everything–furniture from various decades, racks with vintage clothing of all kinds, porcelain in every shape and color possible, vinyls and cassettes, paintings in all sizes, vintage rugs stacked over each other… never has he experienced a place like this before.

A cat rubbing against his legs draws him back into reality. Jiji, he remembers from the flyer, and then another pair of footsteps shifts his attention towards the direction they were coming from.

Kuroo is a goner the moment he sees her.

He heard about the phrase before, to have one's breath taken away, but to feel it quite literally happen to him–that was something he hasn’t experienced before. With the flyer clutched in one hand all he can do is stand there, starstruck and drenched to the bones, a small puddle forming at his feet. He’s smiling like a fool and barely registers what she’s saying, too distracted by the drumming sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Not only is she beautiful–she also radiates the aura of an old soul, someone who has experienced life in all its glory and gory. It’s as if she can see right through him the moment their eyes meet, see everything that shaped him into the person standing in front of her today. The almost painful tug in his chest is impossible to ignore, as if his soul wants to stumble towards her. He finds himself yearning to bask in her light, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

“Hi, I’m here for the vacant apartment?”, is all he can stammer out, but he might as well have gotten on one knee and asked if she had been his beloved wife in a past life.

And so he moves in the next day.

Due to her connections in the neighborhood Kuroo is able to borrow a truck from the nearby flower store–Calla Lily, she and the owner are close friends, he learned–and move his few belongings from his old apartment to the one above The Heirloom.

It wasn’t a lot to begin with: A futon, a few boxes with clothes and one filled with memories, the old rocking chair he got from his sister when he moved out for college and a few pots and pans, some of them still in their original packaging. The kitchen in his old apartment had been tiny and most of the time he’d been too tired to use it anyway. He lived off conbini food and whatever lunch the cafeteria at his job offered.

By the end of the day, Kuroo sits down on the wooden floor of his new apartment, surrounded by the remains of his old life in moving boxes. A strange feeling blooms in his chest, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. It’s like everything is slowly falling into place, the universe making room for him to finally grasp the life he’d been craving the whole time.

He could just curl up here on the floor and sleep for three days, he thinks, when a knock at the door interrupts his trail of thoughts.

“Come in,” he calls out and rises to his feet again, brushing a bit of dust off his old jeans–first time he wore these again after spending the past couple of years in a three-piece suit most of the time.

The door was only left ajar and pushed open slowly. First in is Jiji who hastily rubs against Kuroo’s legs before he struts off to explore the boxes and new scents of the apartment; second is her, lingering in the doorframe, not as brazen as her cat. She smiles brightly when she sees him and holds up a basket for him.

“Thought you might be hungry after today,” she says and lifts up the cloth, revealing an old stoneware pot that radiated a heavenly smell and one half of a sourdough bread. It smells freshly baked. “It’s stew. Old family recipe. Nothing exciting, but hearty, something to warm you up. Since you got soaked yesterday, you know? Don’t want you to catch a cold in the long run.”

Kuroo is a little too baffled and a little too moved to speak, and when he takes the basket from her, her attention drifts to Jiji who is in the middle of claiming Kuroo’s rocking chair as his new favorite spot. She clicks her tongue and looks back at Kuroo apologetically.

“This cat, I swear. You can just kick him out if he gets on your nerves, though I can’t promise that he’ll weasel his way back inside when you blink,” she sighs and Kuroo shakes his head and laughs.

“I really don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a cat around again. Used to have one when I was a kid,” he says and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He taps the screen a few times before handing the phone to her. She takes it from him like it’s something alien or a bomb that could go off any second, but her face relaxes when she sees the photo of his childhood cat. It was an old calico named Kiki they adopted shortly after his parents divorced, his father’s poor attempt to make him feel a little less lonely.

He steals glances at her while she swipes clumsily through the gallery, her tongue poking out a little from between her lips. It was endearing to watch.

“You were a really cute kid,” she snickers after her third attempt to zoom into a photo of him napping in the garden with Kiki on his chest. “Same hair, too.”

Kuroo puts the heavy basket down on the kitchen countertop and looks back at her over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Were? What, am I not cute anymore? You wound me”, he quips back and she looks up from the screen with the most serious face, a small frown across it even.

“I did not say that. Obviously you still are very cute,” she replies bluntly, and the words hang in the air for a few seconds until it dawns on both of them that they’ve been flirting just now and neither of them knew what to do with this realization. Kuroo busies himself with lifting up the lid of the stoneware pot while she puts his phone down on the kitchen table to grab Jiji from the rocking chair instead.

“That’s a beautiful chair you got here,” she says and breaks the awkward silence that was about to settle between them, and Kuroo feels a small wave of relief wash over him. He would have hated it if their first night as neighbors was off to a bad start. When he turns around again, her hands are running over the wood, her gaze focused with a hint of admiration. He had a feeling she would really like this rocking chair. Not that he had pictured her in it or anything, with a book across her lap and wearing one of his sweaters. Surely not.

“Right? It’s a bit worn out and broken, but I guess I don’t have to tell you of all people that it’s not a bad thing,” he replies, a little quieter now. His gaze softens when she looks back at him and smiles.

“These are my favorite kind of things actually.”

Jiji is hanging over her shoulder while she inspects the rattan lining and Kuroo thinks he could spend hours just watching her. Every movement of hers is done with care; from her fingers tracing the grain pattern to her eyes racking over the small notch in one of the armrests. He can tell that she’s already thinking about how to kindle his chair without taking away its charm from the past.

It’s what she does apparently, fixing things that have been loved for a long time. Breathing new life into them while acknowledging their past.

“Do you want to eat together?”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He catches her gaze and neither of them looks away. “It… I’d really like it if we could eat together. Neighbor.”

"Neighbor," she echoes and mirrors the smile that’s forming on his lips. Kuroo isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he can see a flicker of relief wash over her, as if she had waited a very long time for someone to ask her for a shared dinner.

Kuroo swallows, his throat feeling a little tight all of sudden, and tries to distract himself. Dinner. It dawns on him that he has never had anyone over for dinner ever since he moved out. How does that even work? You’re supposed to set out plates and glasses and…?

“Uh. Don’t laugh but I don’t have any cutlery,” he admits with a small sheepish smile while his head rattles a hundred miles per hour. All of sudden he was feeling nervous. Who at his age doesn’t own cutlery? Someone who doesn’t have his life together. Kuroo could quite feel the self-deprecating thoughts crawling up his spine.

Uncool. He felt so damn uncool.

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of it, looking back at her and remembering how to breathe again. She smiles up at him and something inside of Kuroo unravels, making him feel present again.

“Boy, do I know the store for you,” she laughs and it’s like a hundred suns are rising all at once.

There is something magical about walking the aisles of The Heirloom after dark, hours after the store had closed its doors. In the dim lights, Kuroo follows her around in wonder. She seems to have memorized every single trinket here, which shelf it rested in and what’s the story behind it. He could listen to her for hours without ever getting tired, he realizes.

They came down here for cutlery, and while Kuroo was rummaging around the sets she had, she appeared behind him again with a stack of plates and some tea towels made from linen cloth, one corner embroidered with a trio of small mice dancing together. Isn’t it silly, she laughed and showed it to him, and Kuroo could feel his heart stumble against his ribcage from the sound of it.

“Very silly. I love them,” he agreed. They put all the things they gathered on the counter and Kuroo pats the backpocket of his jeans for his wallet. She stops him right there by reaching for his hand and holding it in hers, shaking her head.

“Don’t even think about paying any of this,” she says with a small roll of her eyes, but she’s laughing while she does. She’s also still holding his hand, and Kuroo can’t help but brush a thumb over her knuckle. “It’s a welcoming gift, alright? So this place will feel like home to you a little quicker.”

She squeezes his hand and Kuroo squeezes back, knowing there was no use in protesting. He’ll think of something else to make up for her kindness. There’s many things he wants to say at this moment, but the words just won’t come out, which is strange, because usually he was very good at them–just not in her proximity, it seems.

Not letting go of his hand, she tugs him behind her, gesturing to him to follow her to the back of the store again.

“Come, I need to show you a rug that I think would be perfect for your living room,” she says with a smile. “I also have some heavy wool blankets you can put on your rocking chair until I fix the rattan lining for you. I think Jiji would love that, too.” The cat meows at the mention of his name and follows them like a shadow.

They spend over an hour unrolling every other rug and in the end Kuroo picks three of them, because according to her you can never have too many rugs and Kuroo thinks he’s a rug person now. Maybe he’s also falling a little bit in love with her, or maybe it’s just the warm light that makes her look angelic, and her calm voice narrating all the stories of people who have once loved, a piece of them kept alive by not forgetting them in the walls of this store.

Kuroo wonders if one day someone will tell their story with the same gentleness; their love, preserved.

a/n: serving you the lale special - the down bad (and soon to be lovesick) man. really my favorite genre of men. calla lily is the flower shop from wyr's love's nectar and the poor girl mentioned who left the heirloom with three vases and more trinkets is y/n from ellie's homemade love! the kuroocember trilogy holding hands all the way through.

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

@stargirllost @fushiguruuzzzz @boosyboo9206 @wyrcan @nekozaki

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

#hq x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #hq x you #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu fluff #kuroo x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo testuro #-`♡´- love preserved

39 notes · View notes

peppymintdreams · 5 days ago

Note

i really enjoyed the recent fic of urs where the sakuverse characters were turned into cats !! could u maybe create another version, but with the listeners turning into cats instead ? ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

Ofcourse I can Len…Marston damn you really did convert went from having like 25,000 Xanthus request now they all be Andrew..where’s the loyalty in all truths I have done this version of the story before it just got scrapped

Paws and prejudice

oh no the wizard is back but instead of turning the Sakuvohs into a cat the wizard turns YOU into a cat

Luca

Luca was peacefully reading on the couch, Mocha curled up at his feet, when a familiar, spine-chilling laugh echoed through the apartment. He froze, his book slipping from his hands.

“No… no, no, no, not again,” he muttered, standing up and scanning the room.

Before he could do anything else, a puff of glittering smoke appeared in the middle of the living room. The Wizard—yes, that wizard—emerged, his staff gleaming with mischief.

“Hello, young lovebirds!” the Wizard announced, his eyes twinkling with glee. “Did you miss me?”

“No!” Luca snapped, his voice higher-pitched than usual. “What do you want now gandolf? Haven’t you done enough?!”

The Wizard tilted his head, mock hurt painting his face. “But Luca, dear boy, you were such fun last time! I thought I’d mix things up.” He twirled his staff dramatically, pointing it directly behind Luca.

“Wait, behind me?” Luca spun around to see you standing there, looking utterly baffled.

“Hey, Luca, what’s—” Before you could finish, a bright flash of light consumed the room.

When Luca’s eyes adjusted, you were gone. Instead, sitting on the floor in your place, was a… cat.

Luca stared, wide-eyed. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.”

The Wizard cackled. “A perfect match for your precious Mocha, don’t you think?” With that, he vanished into another puff of glitter, leaving Luca standing in stunned silence.

You—now a sleek, slightly disgruntled-looking cat—let out an incredulous meow.

“Mc?!” Luca crouched down, panic written all over his face. “Oh my god, it’s you, isn’t it? Please tell me that’s you!”

You meowed again, flicking your tail in annoyance.

“Oh no,” Luca groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This can’t be happening. How am I supposed to fix this?! I don’t even know where that wizard lives! Do wizards have homes? Or lairs? Oh god—what if you’re stuck like this forever?”

You padded up to him, headbutting his knee to calm him down.

“Okay, okay,” he breathed, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “We’ll figure this out. Together. Somehow.” He reached out to scratch behind your ears, and despite everything, you purred.

Luca couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “I mean… you’re still cute as a cat, I’ll give you that. But I don’t think you’re going to enjoy being stuck on a diet of kibble.”

Mocha wandered over, sniffing at you curiously before letting out a friendly chirp. You shot her a look that could only mean, I am not amused.

“Alright,” Luca said, standing up with determination. “First, I’m going to find that wizard. And second—well, I don’t know what second is yet, but we’re fixing this.”

You meowed again, pawing at his leg as if to say, You better fix this.

Luca bent down to scoop you up, holding you gently but firmly in his arms. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. No matter what.”

And with that, the two of you—well, Luca and Cat!You—set off to track down the mischievous wizard once and for all.

Isaac

Isaac had just finished organizing a pile of case files when a familiar shimmer of light flooded the living room. He turned sharply, his instincts kicking in before logic could catch up. Standing in the center of his home, smirking as if he owned the place, was the wizard from before.

"You again," Isaac growled, his hands clenching into fists. "I thought I made it clear I wasn’t in the mood for your tricks."

The wizard laughed, twirling his staff with an air of theatricality. "Oh, Detective, you were such fun the last time. But I’m not here for you today."

Isaac’s eyes narrowed, a chill creeping up his spine. “What do you want?”

Before the wizard could answer, footsteps echoed from the hallway as Pickle walked in, carrying a plate of cookies. They stopped mid-step, their eyes darting between Isaac and the uninvited guest.

"Uh… Isaac?" they said hesitantly. "Who’s this?"

"Trouble," Isaac replied, his voice taut.

The wizard’s grin widened. "Oh, your little partner! How quaint. It seems you’ve both been living quite peacefully since our last encounter. Let’s... shake things up, shall we?"

Before Isaac could react, the wizard raised his staff, a flash of golden light erupting from its tip. Pickle dropped the plate with a startled gasp, the cookies scattering across the floor.

When the light faded, Isaac blinked—and found a small, fluffy cat sitting where Pickle had stood.

"...Pickle?" he asked, his voice low and disbelieving.

The cat looked up at him with wide, familiar eyes and let out a tiny, plaintive meow.

The wizard clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with himself. "Much better, don’t you think? They make quite the adorable feline."

Isaac’s jaw tightened, his fury simmering beneath the surface. "Turn them back. Now."

"Where’s the fun in that?" the wizard replied. "Perhaps this will teach you both a lesson in humility."

Isaac took a step forward, his tone dropping into a dangerous growl. "You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Fix this, or I’ll make you regret ever stepping into my home."

The wizard laughed, clearly unfazed. "Oh, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to sort this out yourselves. Good luck, Detective." With a final wave of his staff, the wizard vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Isaac standing alone with the now-feline Pickle.

Isaac knelt down, his piercing green eyes softening as he studied the small cat sitting on the floor. "Pickle?" he murmured.

The cat let out another small meow and padded closer, brushing against his leg in a gesture that was both affectionate and apologetic.

Isaac sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of all the things that could’ve happened today…"

He reached out carefully, scooping them into his arms. Pickle’s tiny body fit perfectly against his chest, their soft fur warm under his hand. Despite the absurdity of the situation, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"You’re lucky you’re still cute," he muttered, cradling them gently.

Pickle purred, the vibration a soothing hum against his chest.

The next few hours were… an adjustment.

Isaac set up a cozy makeshift bed for Pickle on the couch, though they stubbornly refused to use it, preferring instead to curl up in his lap whenever he sat down.

He tried to focus on his work, but Pickle had other ideas. They climbed onto his desk, swatting at his pen as he attempted to jot down notes.

"Pickle," he said warningly, raising an eyebrow. "I’m trying to work here."

The cat blinked up at him innocently before batting at his pen again.

Isaac sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you."

Pickle hopped into his lap, curling up with a satisfied purr. Isaac shook his head, a small smile breaking through his stern exterior.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Isaac sat with Pickle in his lap, stroking their fur absentmindedly.

"We’ll figure this out," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I’ll find that wizard and make him undo this. I promise."

Pickle looked up at him, their eyes filled with a mix of trust and affection.

Isaac leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of their head. "Until then, you’re staying right here with me. No more wizards, no more trouble. Just us."

Pickle let out a soft meow, their purrs filling the quiet room.

Isaac’s resolve hardened. He would find the wizard, no matter how long it took. And when he did, he’d make sure nothing—and no one—ever messed with his Pickle again.

Andrew

Andrew had barely recovered from his last encounter with the eccentric wizard. He was just settling into a rare quiet evening with Darling when the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping against wood echoed in the room.

He looked up sharply. "No."

The wizard grinned, his beard practically shimmering with mischief. "Ah, Andrew! A delight to see you again."

Andrew stood, already exasperated. "Whatever you're planning, don't—"

But before he could finish, the wizard pointed his staff at Darling, who was sitting on the couch with a mug of tea.

“Wait, what—” Darling began, but the room flashed with light, and where Darling had been, a small, fluffy gray cat now sat in their place, blinking wide, confused eyes.

The mug toppled over, spilling tea onto the floor.

Andrew froze. “You did not just—”

The wizard chuckled. “A little balance in the universe. You got your turn, now it’s theirs!”

Before Andrew could launch himself at the man, he vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only a faint scent of lavender and chaos.

Andrew turned his attention to the cat. “Darling?”

The cat looked up at him, tail flicking. Their eyes—still unmistakably theirs—narrowed in what could only be described as irritation.

“Of course,” Andrew muttered, running a hand down his face. “Because why not?”

Over the next hour, Andrew did his best to manage the situation. Darling, however, seemed intent on making it difficult.

When he tried to pick them up, they bolted under the table. When he brought over a bowl of water, they gave him a look that screamed really? When he sat on the couch, trying to think of a solution, Darling jumped onto his lap, batting at his tie with smug precision.

“Don’t think I can’t tell you’re enjoying this,” Andrew grumbled, watching as they stretched luxuriously, their little paws curling.

They meowed, and it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Andrew sighed. “You’re insufferable as a person and as a cat. Impressive consistency.”

Darling climbed onto his shoulder, settling there like they owned the place. Andrew felt a purr rumble against his neck and rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched with an unwilling smile.

The wizard reappeared later that night, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Well, Andrew? Enlightened yet?”

“Change them back. Now.” Andrew��s voice was calm, but his eyes were dangerous.

The wizard raised an eyebrow. “No gratitude? I thought you’d appreciate the symmetry.”

“I don’t appreciate anything about this,” Andrew said tightly. “Especially since someone spent half the evening shredding my notes.”

Darling, still perched on Andrew’s shoulder, batted innocently at his hair.

The wizard chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll undo it. But only because you asked so nicely.”

He waved his staff, and in another flash of light, Darling was back to their human form, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed.

Andrew quickly wrapped an arm around them, steadying them. “You okay?”

Darling nodded, rubbing their eyes. “Yeah, I think so.” Then they smirked. “But you have to admit, I made a pretty great cat.”

Andrew stared at them, exasperated. “You destroyed half my work!”

“Don’t leave papers where they’re so easy to shred,” Darling replied cheekily, leaning into his side.

The wizard disappeared once again with a satisfied hum, leaving Andrew shaking his head.

“Next time,” he muttered, “we’re getting a restraining order against that man.”

Darling laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Relax, Andrew. At least you didn’t get turned into a cat again.”

“That’s not the comfort you think it is,” he said, but his arm tightened around them nonetheless.

Elias

Elias stared at the tiny, fluffy creature sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blinking up at him with wide, unmistakably Barista-like eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Elias groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why is it always cats with that guy?”

Barista—now a small, gray tabby—let out an irritated meow and pawed at the hem of Elias’s jeans, clearly demanding he do something.

“I know, I know,” Elias muttered, crouching down to look at them more closely. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just... give me a second to process this, alright?”

Barista sat back, tail flicking in irritation.

“This is ridiculous,” Elias continued, pacing the room. “First, he turns me into a cat. Now it’s you. What’s next? Warden? Tara?”

Barista let out another insistent meow, clearly unimpressed with his rambling.

“Okay, okay,” Elias said, holding up his hands. “Let’s think this through. Where is that wizard? Did he just poof away like last time?”

Barista nodded—or at least, it looked like a nod.

“Of course he did,” Elias muttered. “Why stick around when you can just turn people into cats and leave?” He sighed and turned back to Barista. “Alright. First things first—you’re okay, right? No weird side effects? No sudden urge to chase mice?”

Barista gave him a flat look, their tail flicking again.

“Right. Dumb question,” Elias said, smirking a little despite himself. “You’re still you. Just... smaller. And furrier.”

Barista let out a small, pitiful meow and hopped onto the couch, curling into a tiny, defeated ball.

“Oh, hey, don’t do that,” Elias said, sitting down beside them. He gently scratched behind their ears, and Barista immediately leaned into the touch, purring despite their annoyance.

“See? Not all bad,” Elias teased, grinning. “You’re still cute. Just in a different way.”

Barista swatted at him with a tiny paw, but the purring didn’t stop.

“Okay, okay,” Elias said, chuckling. “No more jokes. Let’s figure this out.”

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. “I’ll call Tara. Maybe she can help track down our favorite spell-happy wizard and—”

Before he could finish, there was a loud pop, and the wizard appeared in the middle of the room, looking as smug as ever.

“Enjoying the transformation?” the wizard asked, stroking his beard.

“Are you serious?” Elias snapped, standing up. “What is your deal with turning people into cats?”

The wizard shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”

“Well, your hobby sucks,” Elias shot back. “Change them back. Now.”

The wizard raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about I don’t throw you out the window?” Elias growled, stepping closer.

The wizard chuckled. “Alright, alright. No need to get violent. Hold still.”

With another pop, Barista was back to their human self, sitting on the couch with a dazed expression.

Elias immediately dropped to his knees in front of them, cupping their face in his hands. “You okay?”

Barista nodded, blinking a few times. “I think so.”

“Good,” Elias said, pulling them into a tight hug. “Because if that guy had turned you into anything else, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

The wizard cleared his throat. “Well, my work here is done. Until next time!”

“There won’t be a next time!” Elias shouted as the wizard disappeared with yet another pop.

Barista let out a soft laugh, leaning against Elias. “At least he didn’t turn you into a cat this time.”

“Yeah, well,” Elias said, holding them closer. “Next time, we’re investing in some anti-wizard charms or something. I’m not risking this again.”

Barista smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Agreed.”

Xanthus

Xanthus was already on edge the moment he stepped into the shadowy woods. He could feel the magic lingering in the air, thick and stifling like a storm waiting to break. His coat swirled around him as he stepped carefully over gnarled roots, silver eyes scanning for any sign of trouble—or the wizard who had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

But as he approached the clearing where he had last sensed your presence, something wasn’t right. You weren’t there, but instead, a small, trembling ball of fur sat in the center of the mossy ground.

“...Love?” Xanthus called, voice sharp and wary.

The creature perked up at the sound of his voice, and Xanthus froze as a pair of wide, familiar eyes looked up at him. Except they weren’t your eyes—they belonged to a cat.

A very confused, very fluffy cat.

“Oh, for the love of—” Xanthus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He crouched down as the cat scrambled toward him, tripping over its own paws before pressing against his knee with a pitiful meow.

You. Of course, it was you.

He sighed, picking you up carefully and holding you at arm’s length. “I’m assuming this is the wizard’s doing again?”

You let out an indignant meow, your tiny tail swishing furiously.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Xanthus said dryly, tucking you against his chest as he stood. “You couldn’t have just stayed inside for one day, could you?”

Another meow. This one sounded suspiciously guilty.

As he carried you back toward the manor, Xanthus’s mind raced with possibilities. He needed to find a way to reverse the spell—and quickly. But for now, he had a much bigger problem.

You, apparently, had no intention of behaving like a normal cat.

The moment he set you down in his study, you bolted onto his desk, knocking over a stack of papers and scattering them across the floor.

“Seriously?” Xanthus growled, snatching you up again before you could knock over his ink bottle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying this.”

You purred loudly, curling into his arms with a smug expression that made him groan.

The door creaked open, and Xanthus turned to see Dontis leaning casually against the frame, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he took in the scene.

“Well, well,” Dontis drawled. “Didn’t take you long to adopt a pet, Xanthus. Though I must say, the resemblance is uncanny.”

“It’s not a pet,” Xanthus snapped, holding you up for emphasis. “It’s Love.”

Dontis blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re telling me the wizard turned them into a cat? Again?”

Xanthus’s glare could have melted steel. “If you’re not here to help, leave.”

“Oh, I’m definitely staying,” Dontis said, strolling into the room and inspecting you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “This is too good to miss. How does it feel, Love? Being a cute little furball?”

You hissed at him, and Dontis laughed even harder.

Xanthus sighed, setting you back down on the desk. “Enough. I need to figure out how to fix this.”

Dontis smirked. “Or you could just keep them like this. They’re much quieter as a cat.”

You swiped a paw at Dontis, narrowly missing his hand.

Xanthus pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Dontis, I swear—”

“Fine, fine,” Dontis said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But if you need a sitter, you know where to find me.”

As Dontis sauntered out of the room, Xanthus turned back to you, his expression softening despite his frustration.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered as you stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “This is your fault.”

You meowed, hopping into his lap and curling up with another loud purr.

Xanthus sighed, stroking your fur absentmindedly. “Let’s just hope I can fix this before you get too comfortable.”

Though, judging by the way you nuzzled into his hand, it seemed you already had.

🍬

P.S. Hey… hey, you! 🫵🏾 Do you want more Sakuverse gay shit? Hit that follow button and send in a request! You’ll get notifications whenever I post new fics or incorrect quotes or head canons and maybe even a chance to have your OC featured in a story.

28 notes · View notes

birdsaretoddlers · 9 months ago

Text

okay everyone promised to be niceys about it so here's a snippet of the first chapter of the neo-noir whatever the fuck i'm writing. everyone be nice or else i'll explode into a puddle of tears ok?

Red Vixen Returns! After what appears to have been a two year hiatus, famed cat burglar ‘Red Vixen’ has struck again, this time taking a stab at Overeasy Industries! Newest reports claim that the Phosphoril Rose was stolen last night out of its exhibit at the Museum of Earth Sciences. The CEO of Overeasy Industries has promised that any credible claim to it’s whereabouts that lead to the recovery of the artifact will be rewarded handsomely-

“Turn that off, would you, Vette?”

The television cycled off the news and on to a different news station, then more news, and finally, a gossip tabloid that, again, was covering the news. With a disgruntled hawk in her throat, the bartender tossed the remote onto the countertop, unable to escape chippy newscasters with dead eyes and fake cheer. “If you can find any channel not showin’ that, you’re welcome to it.”

The remote slid, spinning, over the scarred, heavily-lacquered wood. The man at the bar stopped it with the hand not currently holding his glass, tapped the channel buttons a time or two, and eventually settled on golf. The tournament lasted for all of fifteen seconds before the breaking news bled overtop of it, too. He finally turned the whole system off instead.

“Don’t know what you were expecting, Mars. It’s Overeasy. They’ve bought every station we get out here.”

“Mm,” said Mars. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“Awfully hopeful, coming out of you. Careful, someone might just try to steal that off ya.”

Knocking back the remnants of his drink, he set his empty glass an inch over the invisible line that begged for a refill. “Welcome to it. Not sure who I lifted it from myself.”

Vette smirked and pulled a pair of dirty bottles from the rack behind her, grey hair tied out of her face with a black leather cord. “Probably the Valentines, if I had to guess. Julio’s always got some to spare.”

“Julio’s full of spare parts. His brother and his sister in law aren’t much better.” Mars waited patiently as Vette offloaded old stock into his cup, then took it back with two fingers. “Dunno why you let your boy run around with ‘em. Gang types, through and through.”

Vette shrugged her shoulders and replaced the liquors to the shelf, sending up a puff of dust as she did. “Who cares where they came from? Keeps Tommy out from underfoot. Better he go knocking over trash cans with them three than the neighborhood boys. At least the Valentines know how to handle a weapon.”

Mars gave his head an acquiescing little tilt. “Just thought you’d stay away from cats that reek of a family, that’s all.”

Vette leaned over the bar with one arm, gesturing at the establishment, as much as it could be called that, with the other. “Hey, here at the Dog, everyone’s family as long as they leave their guns at the door. Doesn’t matter who killed who, what corp fucked over the next, anyone that wants a drink or somethin’ to eat can get it as long as they have the money to pay and don’t spill bad blood within two feet of the doorstep.”

That was true. This dive was the only place that was truly neutral in the entire town. The bartender looked and acted like she’d shoot you, along with her husband and the entire waitstaff, so nobody dared cause any trouble within the doors of the Sighthound. Otherwise called ‘the Dog’, by anyone who had been here more than once. The walls, floors, even the tables were stained with the arguments of generations of enemies who had come together to dine as strained equals, along with a hefty dose of grime. Smoke hung low in the air, mixing with the rank scent of desperation. The opened front door only did so much to clear it out, but hey, if having health insurance was mandatory by law, why not make good use of it?

Mars removed his hat to fan it under his nose anyway. He couldn’t smell the ethanol of his drink through this haze. Vette rolled her eyes, made a comment about his failing constitution, and wandered off without waiting for him to bite out a retort. “Sure, sure. Have to be the one born this minute to start anything here. You’d have ‘em sharing a scientific classification with a colander in a second.”

“Damn right.” Vette turned the television on again, though Mars hadn’t seen her swipe the remote out from under his sleeve. The news bulletin had faded, golf proceeded apace. She pulled a face and started looking for anything else. Mars sipped his highball and did not pull one, though tequila rose was not a proper ingredient no matter what old swill Vette was trying to cycle through the inventory tab. “That’s why we say two feet away from the door. Gives us enough time to close it before we start gettin’ stains on the hardwood.”

With a subtle glance behind him, Mars studied the floors. It was hard to tell there was wood under the inch of grit and mud, but he’d take her word for it. They were almost alone here. The ‘enforcers’ that were the Valentines were playing babysitter, the owner of the bar was up in his office, and who drank at two o’clock on a Tuesday?

Other than him, of course. And the guy that just walked in the door.

Vette looked up, blue eyes a-blinking. “Oh, that’s gotta be the lunch order. Hold that thought, Capone.”

#mars capone and the red vixen #bird droppings #birds original words

37 notes · View notes

middlingmay · 6 months ago

Text

Prompt: "I think we might be pregnant."

"I think we might be pregnant."

Gale stood slightly hunched before the open door of the fridge. His bare chest and arms were prickled with gooseflesh, and a spoon was stuck firmly in his mouth. The door blocked whatever sweet treat he'd delved into before John had appeared, like it would offer some deniability over his midnight snacking tendencies.

John loved his foolish, idiot ass so damn much.

Gale flicked his eyes between John's face and his belly; once, twice, then rapid fire up and down.

Seriously. He loved him so much.

Gale slowly drew the spoon out his mouth and spoke thick around his sugary plunder. "Um...what?"

John tongued his cheek and sauntered up to Gale. He used the flat of his hand to shut the freezer door before wrapping both arms around Gale's neck and crowding him against the cold metal.

Gale shuddered. "The...the ice cream's going to get freezer burn. I didn't put the lid back on."

John enjoyed the squishy warmth of rubbing the tips of their noses together. "What's wrong?" He asked, all faked innocence. "Don't like the idea of knocking me up?"

A sharp intake of breath; a twitch of solid heat against his leg. Yeah. Gale liked that idea.

"Bucky," he rasped. "What are you...?"

"Never seen myself as the kids type, I won't lie. But there's something about the idea of having you fuck me so much that it takes--hoo."

Gale's hands jumped to John's waist, squeezed, cinched, pulled him in. His breaths came staccato, the puffs falling into John's grinning mouth.

"And I don't think I'd like feeling fat. But the way I know you'd get so damn grabby? You can barely keep your hands of my tits and ass as it is, but pregnant?"

Said hands had indeed drifted down, one to the small of John's back and the other to the curve where his thigh met the curve of him. Gales tongue darted out, tasted the bottom of John's lip. John nearly, nearly, licked him all up. But a flash in his mind of the pitiful sight that had brought them here had him pulling back, putting a pin in it.

"But," he said, letting the full weight of his disappointment of having to wait weigh on the word. "Sadly, no. I am not the expectant parent. Wait here."

He bounded off, back to the next room, leaving Gale gaping after him, spoon still in hand, and his half-hardness notable in his loose pyjamas.

When John returned, it was with an armful of his new (non-military and thankfully not white) wool jacket. He approached Buck tentative and pleased, looking for all the world like a proud new parent.

"I found her behind the bar while I was waiting for Kenny to finish taking a leak. Poor girl looks like she's fit to burst."

Tucked inside the burrow of John's coat, held in the safety of his arms, was a very wet, very dirty, and very, very pregnant cat. She had every right to be disgruntled at her abduction, but purred deep and rumbling and looked up at Gale with sleepy eyes.

"I couldn't leave her out there."

John eyed Gale and his silence nervously, ready to jabber to fill the space until Gale made up his mind. And Gale was filled with such a violent affection for this ludicrous man that he gently clutched the arms holding the precious bundle and kissed him warm and full. Like whisky. Like chocolate cake. Like the softness of falling into their bed together at night.

"What do you say?" John bounced a little on his toes. "Ready to become parents?"

But Gale could tease too. "Hm. I don't know. Parents out of wedlock? Wouldn't want the neighbours getting the wrong idea. I should probably marry you first, make it honest."

Gale carefully took the cat, coat and all, from John's arms, to whisk her away for some desperately needed pampering. As he walked away he called over his shoulder,

"I don't much care for Cleven one way or another. But Gale Egan doesn't sound half bad."

#who doesn't love clegan cat parents?#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #slight effeminisation maybe?#mota au #mota fic #masters of the air #mota #cat dad buckies

112 notes · View notes

philistiniphagottini · 7 months ago

Text

The wuthering waves brain rot has begun, ahhhh I just wanted to write something cute and fluffy about the little lion boy I hope you enjoy~

cw. fluff, gender neutral reader, minors DO NOT interact

Lingyang's nose twitched as an unfamiliar scent made his nose itch. A pinch formed between his brow as his ears flickered in your direction, his long, slender tail sweeping low against the ground as a thoughtful noise stirred in his throat.

“You smell…”

His voice trailed off as he took another experimental whiff, letting the strange scent curl deep in his lungs with each breath he took and settle on the back of his tongue. You turned your head towards Lingyang, blinking owlishly at the peculiar, lion boy as you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“Do I smell funny?” you asked.

You tried to subtly sneak a few puffs of air, trying to determine if there was some strange odor lingering on you. As far as you could tell, you smelt normal. You watched Lingyang’s ears twitch again, his nose suddenly scrunching up as a fierce frown tugged at his lips. Whatever he caught the scent of, it was clear that he didn't like it. You squeaked loudly as Lingyang suddenly pounced on you, jumping straight into your lap and nearly knocking you over from the unexpected force. You steadied yourself as he straddled your legs, knees falling beside your hips as he smothered you with his weight.

“Lingyang! What are you-”

You were abruptly cut off as Lingyang leaned closer to you, the pupils of his eyes narrowing to thin slits as he gave you a ferocious scowl. You swallowed thickly, tongue nervously wetting your dry lips as your gaze flittered around.

“Lingyang?”

His intimidating aura was quick to disperse as a small pout tugged at his lips. You opened your mouth to speak once more but you were cut off as Lingyang started to rub his head against your neck. Wisps of his hair tickled your neck and it was hard to contain the small bout of laughter that bubbled up your throat.

“That tickles” you half heartedly complained as you gently tapped his head.

A disgruntled noise stirred in his chest as he bunted his head against your jaw, squishing his cheek against your round one and fondly rubbing his face against yours.

“You smell weird” he complained. “I don't like it.”

He continued to rub his scent all over you, locking his arms around your waist when you tried to escape the ticklish torture of his hair brushing against your sensitive skin. You threaded your fingers through his wild mane of hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he continued to spread his scent along your skin.

“Is it that bad?” you asked with a warm laugh.

Lingyang hummed in agreement, sharp claws pressing into your sides and catching in the material of your clothes as he tried to pull you closer. You had an unfamiliar scent on you. The scent of someone he had never met before. And he didn't like it. His tail started to wave behind him as his scent slowly started to drown out the foreign one, a purr of content bubbling up his throat as he nudged his nose into the crook of your neck. He squeezed your waist as he hummed, the tip of his tail curling around your ankle as a beaming smile lit up his features.

“There, you smell like home now.”

You almost choked on your own breath as it whistled through your teeth. Your cheeks started to feel really warm, despite the cool afternoon breeze that rolled through the hills. You gently scratched Lingyang behind one of his fluffy ears, a purr of content vibrating in his chest as he idly gnawed on a soft spot just under your jaw. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently pat his hair.

“You are one clingy kitty cat.”

#my writing #wuwa #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves lingyang #lingyang #lingyang x reader #x reader #gn!reader

2K notes · View notes

arcelerity · 6 months ago

Text

It's been a boring day so far. Tormod didn't even study for that test and he's sure he aced it! Probably. It was baby stuff anyway, the kind of magic he'd learned as a little kid.

The weather's nice, at least! Tormod stretches his arms, striding down the outdoor path. Maybe he'll take a walk into the woods or go practice at the training grounds or something, it'd suck to waste such a nice day indoors (or at his next, boring class).

...or...

" Woah, what's going on?" A blue blur rushes past him, gunning it with serious intensity. It--he, it's that Caspar guy from the food fight!--stops at a nearby tree, seeming quite frustrated. "Need some help?"

Tormod cranes his neck in the direction the disgruntled boy is looking and ah--there's the culprit. A kitten up a tree, a classic. Cute little thing, white and gray, probably injured? He thinks he might recognize it from a litter he's been keeping an eye on, but it's a little too high up to be sure.

"Man, I wish I'd seen this sooner! I know aaaaall about cats, and I've gotten to know the ones around here pretty well." Tormod puffs up his chest with pride, eyeing the tree up and down. Unfortunately, it's pretty barebones when it comes to handholds, but Tormod's no ordinary beorc and he spies a few potential avenues. "Best thing to do is to try and lure it with food if you can. Use a calm voice. They don't like getting chased. Buuut..."

Hookay, if he gets a running start...

Thud!

That could have gone way better. Like, a bunch. He makes it a fair ways up the tree and comes so close to grabbing a sturdy branch but he's just shy and he comes tumbling down with nothing to show for it but a bruised ego and maybe tailbone.

"...well. Was gonna say once someone gets up there the other guy can be ready to nab the cat when they run down. But we're gonna have to find a way up that tree, first."

(cat reference below)

barking up the right tree

#[ ic ]#[ thread ]#[ thread: barking up the right tree ]#berglietz #//soooooo excited for this thread teehee

5 notes · View notes

myckicade · 3 years ago

Text

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#coco x reader #coco x you #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x you #johnny coco cruz #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic

220 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

not allowed ii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: You know Min Yoongi loves you when he invites Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Not just for you, but for Jungkook too. You would have been cool with it being a one-time thing. BTS are busy after all. 2021 New Year’s Eve Live just aired and Jungkook’s in your Twitter search history again. But surely Yoongi wouldn’t ask Jungkook to drop by again... and watch?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they’re fluffy and in love); tiny bit of crack; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, m-receiving oral, face-fucking, fingering, thigh-riding, cowgirl, handjob, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 NYEL

it’s mostly JK smut with a bit of Yoongi, he’s still recovering after all

–

“You looked so handsome.”

He chuckled as you ran your hands through his black locks, damp from his shower.

“Seeing you with them on stage again makes me so happy.”

He smiled, hands on your waist, letting you mess with his hair.

“Me too,” your boyfriend said softly, looking so beautiful, so perfect, just like this, bare-faced and happy.

You placed your forehead against his exposed one, looking into his dark brown eyes. He looked amused, as if he knew what you were going to say.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“Ah, yes, tell me more,” Yoongi purred. “Tell me how much of a perfect man I am.”

You laughed, lifting your head. “No, no, I’ve decided against that,” you played along, shaking your finger at him. “Because you didn’t immediately say ‘I love you’ back.”

Yoongi scrunched up his face. “Hah…” He looked away. You prodded him in a nose and he gave you a disgruntled huff, ears turning red. He wasn’t keeping it from you because he didn’t love you. He was keeping it from you because he was being difficult on purpose. You tapped his cheek.

“Wa-a-ting, lil meow meow…”

He glared at you disapprovingly.

“Lil…” You leaned down, next to his heated ear. Speaking softer, slower. “Meow meow.”

“I love you,” Yoongi grumbled.

Your hands ran down his chest, nails against the white t-shirt fabric, breathing heavier, more sensually. He sucked in a tight breath.

“Don’t,” he warned.

You stopped and sighed, falling beside him, on his right. “Ah, you’re right. Sorry,” you apologized, rubbing your brow. “I got carried away.”

Yoongi sighed. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

You reached down to intertwine your fingers with his right hand. “I know. I can tell.”

“… Shut up.”

He knew you were addressing the tent in his pants that you very much wanted to touch.

“If I just blow you, it should be fine?”

Yoongi sighed again, shaking his head. “No, because I can’t reciprocate as well as I would like and that’s not fair to you.”

You didn’t press it. That kind of thing didn’t matter to you, but it mattered to Yoongi, so you let it be. Maybe you could have done it anyway, but you knew that wouldn’t make him happy. It was better to simply wait, even if he was allowed to be on stage again, at least partially. He was recovering at a good pace. Both of you agreed to be patient and sometimes had to keep the other in check.

“When do you have to go back to work?” he asked quietly.

“Soon.”

“You don’t have to go back.”

You laughed. “And do what? Become your maid?”

Yoongi grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Someone will find out.”

His grin faltered and he leaned his head against your shoulder. “Yeah.” His voice was small, barely above a whisper. “But I’m feel the happiest when I’m with you.”

“I’m always with you, Yoongi.” You reached over and tapped the left side of his chest. “Right here.”

You felt him stiffen at your touch, a little embarrassed at the cheesy movement. His brown eyes flickered up to your face, to your smirk. Because, of course, you had done it on purpose to fluster him, even if you meant it. He pouted at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm, that’s not what your Twitter search history says.”

“E… eh?” you uttered, feeling the heat rise to your face. “You were looking through my phone?”

“Does you leaving the screen on count as looking through your phone?”

You looked away from Yoongi’s teasing eyes. You were about to say something but Yoongi squeezed your hand, leaning in closer.

“No, no, don’t say that. I want you to tell me.” His lips against your ear, sending shivers down your neck. “I want to know everything, my love.”

Shit. You could feel your heart race when he spoke like that, so low and dangerous. You tried to keep your hormones in check, not wanting to get turned on and jump him, because if he kept this up, you most certainly would.

“Ah, well… he just… looked so nice in the Dynamite and Best of Me performance. And the Mic Drop performance. Not as nice as you, of course,” you added with a slight puff of pride, squeezing his hand back.

“Nice save.”

“Hey, I mean it,” you retorted. “Hmph.”

He chuckled, raspy and lovely. “I know you do.” He kissed your ear lightly. “But I also know Jungkookie is missing his noona, so I had to make sure you were still wet for him.”

Before you make a snarky remark, the front door opened.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head back to the mischievous expression on Min Yoongi’s face.

“Y-Yoongi!” you hissed under your breath. “You’re right here!”

He ticked his head, smirking at you. “That I am.” His voice dropped several octaves as you heard the relocking of the door and the removal of shoes. “And now, so is Jungkook.”

You paled. Was Yoongi going to watch you or something? There was no way you could initiate anything sexual with Jungkook with Yoongi next to you! You felt your cheeks burn as Yoongi smirked triumphantly, pink tongue running over his teeth. Wasn’t this taking it too far–?

“Noona?” came the gentle voice of Jeon Jungkook, with just a hint of teasing. “Are you aslee–HYUNG?”

Evidently, Jungkook thought the exact same thing.

You bolted up from the bed, eyes wide as Jungkook rounded the corner and abruptly stopped, wearing an oversized long-sleeved black shirt. Black sweatpants. Black hair fluffy and curly around his cheeks, looking so soft that you wanted to run your fingers through it. He was taken aback at the appearance of Yoongi, who lifted himself from the bed like a cat, in one smooth motion. His right hand raised and ruffled his shorter black hair, raspy chuckle on his lips as he witnessed your and Jungkook’s equally stunned expressions.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped down and he looked away quickly, realizing Yoongi was in his boxer briefs and still semi-hard from being so close to you. His eyes darted everywhere in the room, unable to look at you or Yoongi. There were probably a million things going on in his head as he fixated on a spot on the floor, eyes open and unblinking.

One, it was obvious why he was there.

Two, Yoongi was also here?

Three, if he looked at you sexually, wouldn’t that be weird, because Yoongi was here??

Four, why is Yoongi here???

“I should g-go–” Jungkook sputtered, angling his body away from the bedroom.

“Jungkook, come here.”

Yoongi’s stern voice froze the younger man in mid-movement, leg raised awkwardly in the air. Jungkook was still not looking at either of you.

“You came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Ah… hyung, I was only–”

“Don’t insult my girlfriend by pretending you don’t want her.”

You could tell those words made Jungkook pause. He turned around, slowly, eyes flickering to Yoongi’s calm face. Yoongi cocked his head at in your direction, dark brown eyes boring into Jungkook’s. You sat there, frozen in one of Yoongi’s oversized t-shirts, witnessing the interaction that was probably a lot more tense for you and Jungkook than it was for Yoongi. Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, revealing the tiny mole under it, uncertainty etched on his features.

“She’s already told me how good you made her feel.”

Jungkook flinched. His eyes flickered to you. “R-really?”

“W-well… he asked?” you replied, wringing your hands nervously. “He wanted to know the details.”

Jungkook’s tan skin paled a bit. “O-oh…”

Yoongi cracked his neck, sliding into his computer chair. He seemed very pleased with himself. Too pleased. Smug, even. “I especially liked the part where you spanked her. She can be a bad girl sometimes.”

Instantly, Jungkook turned into a tomato. “T-that was in the h-heat of the moment, I s-swear…”

“Yeah?” Yoongi hummed knowingly.

You made the mistake of looking at Yoongi’s eyes. Dark and alluring, noticing your gaze immediately and honing in on it. His lips curved into his trademark open-mouthed smirk. Fuck. You loved it when he did that. Too much. He knew it too. Fuck. Fuck. Yoongi was doing it on purpose, enjoying his effect on you as he ran a pale hand through his hair, separating the dark strands, flexing his fingers as he did so.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Take off the shirt.”

He was staring at you, so he obviously meant you. You gulped.

“Yoongi, are you su–”

He interrupted you, dark eyes flashing. “Take it off.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook, whose doe-like brown eyes were fixated on you too, unable to look away now because Yoongi had given you an order. And you could tell Yoongi that you weren’t going to do it, but Jungkook was wanting it, needing it, the tent in his pants growing, anxiously chewing his pink lip raw, and, fuck, you could refuse but Jungkook looked so desperate and delectable that your fingers went to the hem of the shirt, eyes flickering back to Yoongi, who grinned at you.

Deep down, you wanted to please Yoongi too, and he seemed very, very satisfied to watch you lift the shirt up and over your head. He purred your name, in that enticing way you loved.

“Give it to me.”

You tossed it to him and Yoongi caught it in the air. The action made your tits bounce and your ass rise a little, giving Jungkook a clear view of your body in your black bra and panties, seamless, comfortable, molded so perfectly to your curves that Jungkook’s lower lip popped out of his teeth, wet and glistening as he gawked at you.

“Hyung,” Jungkook swallowed. “I c-couldn’t… not in front of you…”

Yoongi turned his attention from you to the maknae, looking unsurprised as Jungkook continued to focus on your body. The way Yoongi spoke sent hot, arousing shivers down your spine. His words sounded familiar, echoing the text he had sent you that day.

“You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

I want you to tell me.

Fuck, Min Yoongi really was your perfect man.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. If Yoongi didn’t want this to happen, he wouldn’t have let Jungkook keep the key. He wouldn’t have told Jungkook it was okay to come over. He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t want to watch. And Jungkook’s resolve was cracking with his hyung’s words and his noona’s nearly naked body right in front of him.

Jungkook breathed your name, hesitant, needy.

No honorifics.

A slow smirk grew on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you purred. “Don’t you want my taste in your mouth again?” You saw the younger man’s breathing hitch. “My hands all over you?” Jungkook was taking a step towards you now, his fluffy hair sliding down to shroud his face. Your gaze darted to Yoongi for half a second. He cocked his eyebrows, nodding at you. Telling you it was okay. You looked back to Jungkook’s hungry eyes, chest rising and falling as he approached the bed.

“My pussy squeezing your cock?”

A low groan dripped from Jungkook’s lips at your words. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“H-hyung.” Jungkook swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from you to Yoongi. “I… I won’t be able to hold back.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, settling comfortably. The expression on his face was approval, his dark brown eyes glittering with mischief, pink lips curled into a devious smirk. His tone was a low, mind-numbing drawl, the one he used when he was on top of you, cock-deep and pressing your legs against your chest, whispering dirty words right against your lips.

“Good, because she deserves everything. I want her to be ruined.”

…

You should have been more careful about your crush on Jungkook. Yoongi was definitely going to use it against you now. Ack. What was he so observant for? You wouldn’t have done anything, but now Jungkook was crawling on the bed, breathing hard, looking so delicious and hot that you couldn’t back out now even if you wanted. More hair slid in front of his left eye, covering it, the other single chocolate orb unblinking as he licked his lips slowly.

“Did you miss me, Jungkook?”

He smiled, naughty and apologetic at the same time. “So much, noona.” He stopped right in front of you, eyes roaming your body. “But I wanted to wait until Yoongi-hyung said it was okay.”

“What a good boy,” you praised and Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “When did Yoongi say it was okay?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip, eyes shifting around nervously. “Erm… this morning…”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Yoongi. The older man chuckled. “I told you Jungkookie missed being dick-deep in his noona.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined.

“Bet you jacked off thinking about it after it happened,” you teased.

“Noona…” He pouted at you. You leaned forward, breath against his lips, making him shiver.

“You can tell me,” you murmured. “I want to know.”

You reached up and pushed his long black locks out of his eyes, running your hands through his hair. Oh, so soft and luscious. He smelled so good, clean, fresh, and sensual, different from Yoongi’s pine-scented cologne, but also familiar and inviting. Jungkook lips parted at your closeness, eyes dropping down to your cleavage displayed right in front of him.

“I did,” he whispered, somewhat ashamedly. “You tasted so good.” He moved closer to you. “Smelled so good.” Closer, lips brushing against yours. “Felt so fucking good, wet and tight around my cock.”

Fuck, Jeon Jungkook was the epitome of lust.

You pressed your lips against his, inhaling his scent, tangling your fingers in his hair. He whimpered into your mouth as you kissed him hard, tongue sliding in, teasing him as you flitted it in and out. You heard Yoongi hum, as if to say, finally. Your eyes cracked open, shifting to him and his amused expression.

“Stop holding back,” Yoongi chuckled. “I know you want him more than that.”

Was he really going to heckle you this entire time? You narrowed your eyes, growling into Jungkook’s mouth and grabbing his head, raising yourself up and fucking his lips with your tongue roughly, making Jungkook moan and squirm under you, hands flying up to your waist to grab it and hold on as you sucked on his lower lip, raking it with your teeth before releasing him. Jungkook gasped, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Yoongi breathed. The arousal within you sparked as Yoongi said your name, coaxing the fire, igniting it. “You better make Jungkook scream.”

“H-hyung?” Jungkook yelped. Yelped because your hands gripped his shirt, pulling it up and over, breaking his grip on you as his head popped out, long hair flaring out as you flung it aside before sliding down to his stomach. His eyes widened as you spread your knees, ass up as your tongue slid over his abs, soft lips working on his flesh.

“A-ah, fuck…”

You drew patterns on his skin as you kissed upwards, nipping lightly, leaving little red marks. Ugh, such a beautiful body, with sculpted muscles and glorious tan skin. Your hands crawled up his sides, digging your nails in, relishing in his cries of pleasure that vibrated through his chest as you reached his pecs.

Holy hell.

Jungkook really must have been working out lately. Your fingers danced up his back, tracing the muscles, licking slowly up his sternum. You heard him inhale sharply and your eyes went up to his face, his hair hanging down, watching you with his mouth open, Adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed.

“You’re so sexy,” he panted.

You slid your head to the side, tongue dragging over his hot skin, breathing over it. He gasped as the tip touched his nipple, teasing it lightly as you raked your nails down his broad back.

The sounds he made had your panties drenched between your thighs.

You kissed your way to the other side, pressing your lips against his nipple, scratching up and down his back, snickering as Jungkook came undone above you, tipping his head back as he moaned. You kissed up his chest, to his trembling neck, pushing his head back down to you so you could kiss him again, deeply, hungrily, growling his name against his mouth. His kiss was like a drug, so addictive and euphoric, making you want him more and more, craving his shaking breath against your lips.

Your palm pressed against the front of his sweatpants, grinning as you felt his hardness throb.

Jungkook started, drawing back from your kiss, lips swollen from your roughness. You held onto him, gripping his cock through the fabric. You arched an eyebrow, smirk growing on your lips, revealing your teeth. He gulped loudly.

“I… I like it when you kiss me,” he mumbled.

“Only like?” you purred, stroking his bulge. He groaned, bucking into your hand.

“N-no,” Jungkook breathed. “I love it.”

You yanked his pants and underwear down together, dropping down, hearing Yoongi’s snicker of amusement as you came face to face with Jungkook’s length. Already so hard, tip glistening with pre-cum, waiting for your mouth. Jungkook made an anxious noise, realizing Yoongi was, indeed, still present as you swallowed his cock, taking it all in your mouth.

Your boyfriend, superstar rapper of BTS, Min Yoongi was watching you blow the golden maknae Jeon Jungkook right on his bed.

The thought made you wetter, tongue wrapping around the head and sucking hard, making Jungkook hump your mouth, gasping your name. It made him slide further down your throat, your tongue rubbing the bottom of his cock.

“Do what you do for me,” Yoongi drawled. “Lick his balls.”

“W-wait, I want to stay in her mouth a little–what the fuck,” Jungkook groaned as his head snapped down, eyes widening as he realized what you were doing. “There’s no fucking way.”

You went all the way down, the head buried in your throat, nose into his crotch, tongue extended as you licked his balls fervently, simultaneously deep-throating him and tonguing his balls. You hummed softly, adding vibrations to the list of sensations. Jungkook seemed lost of words, moaning incoherently as you rutted his cock into your throat, squeezing it. Saliva dripped down, covering his balls and your hand came up to smear it around, cupping and massaging them.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” Jungkook gasped, hardening even more, so stiff his cock bent against the roof of your mouth, barely able to fit. “H-how…?”

“Talent,” Yoongi chuckled, pleased.

You released his wet balls to place your hand on his hips, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook shuddered, thighs shaking as you began to suck harder, tighter, clamping him in your warm, wet vice, not giving him a chance to catch his breath as you built a furious pace. His balls slapped against your chin, but you ignored it, completely focused on ramming his hips into your face.

“How is your mouth so good? So perfect, fuck, hyung you’re so lucky…”

Yoongi chuckled. “What are you talking about? She’s giving it to you right now.”

Jungkook could only respond with an incomprehensible wail as you reached around, feeling for his large hand and placing it on the back of your head.

“That means fuck her face.” Yoongi spoke for you considering you had Jungkook’s entire thick cock jammed down your throat.

“Are y-you sure?” Jungkook gasped, looking down at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Do it, Jungkookie,” Yoongi nudged, his deep voice breathless and commanding. “Give her what she wants.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw and rolled his hips into your lips, gasping at the added tightness. Your brows furrowed, now completely focused on keeping your mouth and throat muscles tensed as Jungkook wildly thrusted into your face, hand gripping the back of your head, moaning so loudly that the sound filled the whole room with his lust. His muscles rippled above you, so sexy and beautiful that your whimpered around his cock, digging your nails into his hips as you held on.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi get up, his fingertips touching your ass. A familiar, sexual touch that you had longed for all this time.

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi said softly, stroking your skin as Jungkook continued to shove his cock into your face. “I’ll be careful.”

He was talking about himself, not you. He was the one you were worried about, not you. Not you as your eyes rolled back into your head, Yoongi’s fingers slipping under your panties, sliding into your wet heat, his thumb pressed against your clit. The force of Jungkook’s thrusts made you back up into Yoongi’s hand, fucking his fingers as Jungkook humped your face.

“H-hyung, I’m close…” Jungkook gasped, realizing Yoongi was now next to the bed, casually fingering your pussy as he face-fucked you.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi said calmly. “Cum down her throat.”

Jungkook slowed down a little but Yoongi growled, warning him.

“Come on, Jungkook, do it.”

And then the pace roughened, Jungkook chasing his release in your tight mouth, your jaw aching as Yoongi’s fingers buried into your folds, humming approvingly as your walls clenched around them, dripping down his palm.

“That’s it,” Yoongi breathed. “You finally get what you’ve always wanted.” He leaned down, closer to your ear, both of Jungkook’s hands in your hair to hold you in place as you squeezed the head of his cock with your throat. “And I don’t even have to do anything, since Jungkook is strong enough to do the work for both of us.”

You whined, your climax thundering into you unexpectedly with Yoongi’s deep drawl so close to you, Jungkook’s clean cologne mixed with the scent of sex coming from both you and him. Yoongi grinned as your pussy throbbed around his long fingers, viscous liquid sliding down his wrist. Your entire body shivered, vibrating Jungkook’s cock, and he moaned above you, spurting down your throat with a groan of your name. Oh, yes. So delicious and so much. You swallowed greedily, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure warmed you from your core and your mouth, sucking the drips off the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gasped, knees giving out a little, making your body dip, your hard nipples brushing against the sheets. His hands lowered, gripping your shoulders tightly. You felt Yoongi remove his fingers, licking them off, moaning in satisfaction. Slowly, gingerly, Jungkook pulled back, your lips tightening as he backed off.

“N-noona, please…”

Reluctantly, you let go. Jungkook gulped, eyes flickering to Yoongi, who turned around and went back to his computer chair, sitting back down. He looked up at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“A-ah… well…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his head.

“Does she seem satisfied to you?”

Jungkook looked over to you as you removed your panties, chucking them to Yoongi. He caught them out of the air, smirking as Jungkook’s eyes followed the journey of your panties. He jumped as he heard you open the nightstand drawer, taking out the box of condoms once again and selecting one as if you were at the fucking buffet picking a damn entrée. Jungkook wiggled out of his clothes, kicking them off the bed even as his brain considered uneasily. His body was already deciding for him.

“Uh…”

You grabbed Jungkook by the shoulders and pushed him down on the bed. He was not as dominant as he was when you were alone, but that was probably nerves due to Yoongi’s presence. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Yoongi sniffed your panties and licked them before placing them on his crotch.

You blinked at him. He gave you an open-mouthed smirk as response.

You swore Yoongi was not this freaky before he met you. He matched your wavelength in his own way and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. You slid down Jungkook’s abs, eyes still on Yoongi, careful to place your knees so Jungkook’s left thigh was trapped between them.

Then you sat down.

Jungkook gasped at the contact of your dripping wet pussy hitting his muscle. Your grinded into his thigh, looking back at into those big doe eyes as he gawked at you. You tilted your head, reaching back and unhooking your bra. You hand caught the black cups before it fell, hiding your nipples from him.

Jungkook whined as you rubbed your swollen clit against his skin.

You chuckled, gazing down at his swelling cock. “Need you to be hard for me again, Jungkookie, so I can ride you.”

He bit his lip as you continued to rub your juices onto his thigh. He tensed it under you and you hissed appreciatively, flinging your bra aside as you grabbed his cock with one hand, stroking it to full hardness as you abused your clit against his firm thigh, increasing the sensitivity. His eyes darkened from his hair covering his face, slipping to his other, more feral side, the duality so delicious you felt yourself squelch against him.

Jungkook cocked a dark eyebrow, smirk on his lips. “So wet for me. Want my cock that bad?”

You ripped the condom open, tossing the wrapper aside, matching his smirk as you rolled it down his throbbing length.

“Gonna fuck you until you can’t think anymore, Jungkook.”

And then you lifted yourself from his leg and sat down on his cock.

Jungkook gasped sharply, throwing his head back into the pillows as you fitted yourself around his stiff length, not letting him get used to it, not letting yourself get used to it as you began to smack your hips into his, his eyelids fluttering helplessly, moans radiating off the walls.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re heartless. He’s going to cum in two seconds.”

You grinned, placing your hands above Jungkook’s shoulders and fucking him into the bed, thrusting him into you so hard that Jungkook yelped, sound of skin on skin wetly crashing against firmness, lewd and obscene. Fuck, he felt so good, thick and pulsing against your walls, his breathless whimpers spurring you on as you clenched around him, your pussy pumping his cock.

“Look at you, Jungkook,” you panted, slamming your hips together and making him groan again, clutching fistfuls of pillows. Your breasts bounced with your movements, hypnotizing him. His hair was spread out in black messy curls, framing his chiseled jaw and blown-out pupils, the mole underneath his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold on to your untamed wildness. “Needed my pussy so bad, hm? Needed noona to take care of you, didn’t you? Bet you begged Yoongi to let you have me again.”

Jungkook’s eyes went wide, jerking his head towards Yoongi as his hyung grinned devilishly.

“And you would be right,” Yoongi purred.

“Hyung!”

You snickered, fucking him harder, faster, giving him a full body roll onto his dick and Jungkook’s head slammed back into the pillows, neck muscles tightening as he belted your name from the top of his lungs, chest shaking as he came. His cock jolted against your walls, pumping the condom full as you massaged his entire length, exhaling his name as you came as well, eyes closing in satisfaction. Your hands slid down to Jungkook’s shoulders, kneading them in your hands.

Even if your heart was Yoongi’s, your body could be equally turned on by both men. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Jungkook, because of course you did.

But Yoongi and you…

You looked over to Yoongi and he nodded, sliding up to the side of the bed with his computer chair.

The way his lyrics felt like your thoughts, the way that he took complex emotions and turned them into simple, elegant phrases, the way he looked at you, knowing you in a way that was more than just love, but also understanding the good and bad, the two sides of the same coin. He was open and honest with you, never letting you feel bad about your nonconformist beliefs, never judging you even if it was abnormal or unorthodox.

Such as sitting on Jeon Jungkook’s dick right now, running your nails over his sculpted chest and making him moan under you as Yoongi smiled. Well, he too was pleased Jungkook was having a good time. He did love the maknae quite a lot. Even sent him a long text telling him (and Kim Taehyung, of course). You, like everyone else, had that on tape, including Kim Seokjin feeding an unsuspecting Yoongi an empty calm shell afterward.

You smiled at the memory.

You leaned over to Yoongi, kissing him softly as he met you in the middle.

“Want to blow you while he’s fucking me,” you murmured into Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi shook his head, pouting slightly. “Hah, don’t tempt me.”

You squeezed Jungkook’s cock inside you and Jungkook groaned, hardening at the stimulation. “At least a handjob?” you pleaded. “Please, Yoongi.”

Jungkook patted your thigh and you felt him reach down, holding onto the condom. You lifted your hips and he slid out with a gasp, stunned by the sensitivity. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you, before sighing heavily, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. You grinned as Yoongi reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a spare towel, throwing it at Jungkook so he could clean himself up.

“Okay, okay,” he gave in, getting up from the chair so you could lower his underwear. “My physical therapist is gonna kill me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You told your physical therapist you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi frowned. “Of course not. But it was heavily implied not to exert myself outside of physical therapy.”

You slid his boxer briefs down, freeing his incredibly hard cock, definitely ignored all this time. The head was purple red, desperate to be touched.

“A handjob isn’t physical exertion, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, stroking his cock as he stared at your ass.

Yoongi moved away from you to sit on the bed, smushing all the pillows so he had a small mountain of softness to lay against. “Yes, well,” Yoongi grumbled, spreading his legs for you as you dipped down, ass up in the air for Jungkook. “I can’t control myself around her. Don’t want to take it too far.”

Jungkook sucked on his teeth at the image of your hand wrapping around Yoongi’s cock, stroking it slowly. You moaned softly, leaning against Yoongi’s thigh, feeling the familiar hardness and contours of his veins imprinted into your palm, Yoongi’s shallow breathing as you pumped him.

“Excuse me, you are supposed to be cock-deep in her pussy,” Yoongi barked at Jungkook, who started, fumbling with the box of condoms.

“Uh… are you sure?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, get your dick in there.”

You turned your head to look at Jungkook inquisitively, shaking your ass at him.

“Please, Jungkook?”

Apparently, that was all the enticing Jungkook needed because he immediately ripped open a condom and shoved it onto his cock before scooting up to you and gripping your hips. Yoongi grinned, patting your head as Jungkook slid into you once again, eyelids fluttering at the sensation.

“See,” Yoongi purred. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty that you’re not getting the good dicking you deserve.”

You smeared his pre-cum down the head and Yoongi moaned, tipping his head back into the headboard.

“Missed your cock, Yoongi,” you breathed, watching his delicate features twist in pleasure as you increased your pace, feeling Jungkook roll his hips into you, going slow and steady so as not to blow his load within seconds.

Yoongi smirked. “I know, but health comes first. Maybe next time I’ll let you get spit-roasted by Jungkook and I.”

You felt Jungkook’s fingertips dig into your hips. “R-really?” he blurted, far too quickly to censor himself.

Yoongi turned his attention from you, cocking an eyebrow.

“I-I mean…” Jungkook sputtered.

“Well,” Yoongi said calmly, smiling. “Guess I promised now, so I suppose it’s going to happen at some point.”

You chuckled. “Which hole do you want?” you teased.

Yoongi growled, closing his eyes, imagining it. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He gasped with Jungkook as you increased in speed on his cock and rammed your hips back into Jungkook’s. “We’d have to do both for me to be satisfied.”

You raised your eyebrows.

Well.

“What Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets.”

Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook moaned at the thought, grasping your hips tighter and fucking your harder, his cock hitting you deeply, making your gasp. Yoongi’s eyes cracked open and looked at you, devious and dangerous.

“Jungkook.” Yoongi called for the maknae’s attention. “Spank her.”

Your eyes widened and you cried out as Jungkook’s large palm smacked your ass, making your pussy clench around his cock. Your free hand came up and slammed against the headboard, not wanting to unnecessarily grip Yoongi’s arm even if it was his right. Yoongi eyes darkened with lust, smirk growing as you gripped his cock harder, jacking him off roughly.

“I love your fingers wrapped around my cock,” Yoongi breathed against your lips. “More, Jungkook.”

You felt the stinging pain radiate up your ass, the sound echoing off the walls as Jungkook growled, thrusting violently with repeated, wet squelches, your cum dripping down his thighs and yours, getting wetter and wetter as he slapped your ass and made your pussy throb around his cock. He was stronger than Yoongi and his slaps were a little inexperienced, but it felt good all the same, good because you could feel Yoongi getting hotter and harder in your hands, thighs tensing as he neared his release, Jungkook rambling behind you.

“F-fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook snarled. “Such a fucking good pussy, so fucking tight and wet. Can’t help but want you, can’t help but think about fucking you, fuck.”

Yoongi shifted his gaze to your ass bouncing as Jungkook fucked and spanked it, turning it a red. Your nails curled into the headboard, barely taking tight gasps as your orgasm neared, threatening you.

“Close,” he breathed. “Fuck, you look so good being abused by Jungkook’s cock.”

You chewed on your lip, determined to get Yoongi off before yourself, clenching your jaw. You felt Yoongi hiss, pressing his head against the headboard, eyes shifting to lock with yours. Your name slid out of his lips in a euphoric exhale, his control slipping as he groaned, cock jerking into your hand. You gasped as he came.

Holy fuck.

Yoongi hadn’t cum in so long that the force of his orgasm splattered up your chest, painting your tits with thick white strings and staining you with his scent. You pussy clenched and suddenly you felt your own orgasm crash down, no longer inhibited due to your surprise, sending shocks of pleasure through your body as your pussy spasmed around Jungkook’s cock, choking the oversensitive head. Jungkook came with a sharp yelp of your name, burying his nails and fingertips into your hips, bruising you for sure, but all three of you were trapped in the chain reaction of orgasm that it became a mix of different pornographic sounds of release booming against the apartment walls.

Once again, soundproofing was really saving your asses here because all three of you seemed to forget that none of this should be happening.

The ecstasy slowly, slowly trickled away. Jungkook’s hands loosened their grip on you, his body sliding down and leaning against your back. He was panting hard, his sweat sticking to your skin, heart thudding in time with yours. Yoongi finally opened his dark eyes, staring down at your cum-covered breasts with a dry chuckle.

“Whoops.”

You pressed your forehead against the cool headboard, your tits hitting his upper arm. Yoongi clicked his tongue as his own cum dripped on his shirt.

“Serves you right,” you muttered.

“My dick is passing out,” Jungkook whined.

Yoongi shrugged. “Isn’t today your off day anyway?”

Jungkook squeezed you tightly, hope rising in his voice. “Y-yeah.”

Yoongi hummed. “The others might find out.”

Jungkook sucked in his cheek. “Who cares?” he chirped defiantly.

You felt Yoongi let out a raspy laugh.

“Ah, they’re going to be so jealous of you, Jungkookie.”

part iii “You’re not allowed to say such things.”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #suga x you #suga x reader

1K notes · View notes

musetotheworld · 3 years ago

Note

25.“Come near me and I swear, I will kill you.” for russianresident

Not having to hide her superspeed is incredibly useful when Cat needs something, but there are only so many unbroken stretches of the corridor that Kara can safely let loose in. When there are people or equipment, she’s stuck at human pace.

Not the most comfortable feeling when she can hear Cat yelling for her in the background.

Still, Kara thinks she can be forgiven the momentary delays when she shows up with a bottle of Cat’s favorite water, their initial stock depleted after being here longer than expected. Thankfully, the penthouse is just a few seconds away by air, and Kara’s freeze breath is fully prepared to chill the bottle to Cat’s exact specifications.

“Cat, I got your wat-”

“Come near me, and I swear I will kill you,” Cat says the instant Kara reappears in the door, face red with exertion.

Kara freezes, water in one hand as she tries to regulate her strength enough to avoid popping it like a bottle of champagne. It’s a near miss, but she manages.

Then her brain catches up, and with a wave from the doctor, Kara crosses the room anyway. “If you kill me, there’s no one to fetch water for you when you get thirsty,” she points out, letting out a puff of her breath to chill the water before pouring a glass. “Then what would you do?”

“And if I kill you, there’s no risk of you knocking me up again, so I won’t need the water.”

“Okay moms, you’re doing good,” the doctor calls, breaking the tension. “I think we’re getting close enough for Cat to start pushing.”

“Get over here, then,” Cat says, changing her mind instantly. “I can’t break your fingers if I squeeze too hard, so it’s you or nothing.”

Cat’s grip is as firm as she promised, and Kara takes a second to be glad her powers are at full strength. Anything less, and she might be in danger of at least a few fractures.

“Just think, though, Cat. It’s just a little longer until we get to see our daughter.” They’ve been looking forward to that moment for months now, from the second the shock wore off, and they realized what happened.

Their reunion after Cat bought CatCo back had been… enthusiastic. Perhaps excessively so, though Kara wouldn’t agree with that descriptor. And at the time, neither had Cat. Probably wouldn’t once labor was over either, but Kara can understand why her perspective might be a little skewed at the moment.

Alex definitely thought it was excessive, once they’d determined exactly how much sex was required for a Kryptonian to have a child with a human. She hadn’t been able to look Cat in the eye for months, not that Cat helped on that particular front. The question about whether she could get pregnant again while already pregnant made sure of that.

“We are figuring out how to avoid this, or you are carrying the next one,” Cat says as a contraction passes. “While I appreciate the physical benefits of carrying a half-Kryptonian, this labor is not worth it.”

“Does that mean I can touch you again?” Kara whispers into Cat’s ear.

Not quietly enough if the looks from the doctor and nurses mean anything, but she doubts it’s the first time they’ve heard similar. The knowing glint in a few eyes is proof enough of that.

“We’ll talk,” is all Cat says as another contraction starts, and Kara shifts into a more encouraging mode as she helps her through it.

It doesn’t take long once Cat starts pushing for their daughter to arrive, and Kara makes sure Cat gets the first chance to hold her once she’s been checked over. She can be patient.

It’s worth it to see the look on Cat’s face as she looks at the tiny bundle on her chest, and the unfocused look of disgruntlement on the tiny face looking up at her. All of Cat’s attitude from day one.

And Kara wouldn’t have it any other way.

#supergirl #supergirl fic #supercat #supercat fic #prompt fill

50 notes · View notes

amajikilvr · 4 years ago

Note

heyyy, i have a request! you know the drabble you wrote where todoroki was sleeptalking? can you do that same concept with bakugo or hawks?

a soft moment - katsuki bakugou

word count 410

reader type gender-neutral

premise you catch katsuki sleeptalking

Your fingers run through the thick tresses of vanilla colored hair, tangling and untangling themselves in a mesmerizing never ending loop.

His snores are surprisingly light and delicate, the mellow sound long ago becoming a calming mantra for you. Occasional puffs of air travel and tickle your face. You wrinkle your nose and hold back a giggle each time.

Every feature on his face is relaxed and it’s hard to imagine the usual twisted snarling scowl ever living there. You savor the purity of it all as your thumb practically just hovers above one of his cheeks. It’s been common knowledge for you that his skin is always unfairly smooth.

This is just one of the many ways Katsuki is beautiful.

You know what he’d say if he saw you shamelessly admiring him like this with lovesick puppy eyes; “Oi, get some sleep and stop being creepy! We’ve got class tomorrow.”

Or something close to that, at least.

Going to sleep sounds so unappealing as you gaze closer at his sweet face and notice that he has the faintest freckles that scatter over the bridge of his nose and rosy apples of his cheeks. The urge to leave a gentle kiss every single one is strong and leaves a warm pleasure sitting in your chest.

Katsuki suddenly shifts, his forehead creasing, and you pause your constant movements amongst his mass of hair. It’s more than quiet enough for you to hear the brief gurgling in the back of his throat.

A grumbling noise squeezes past his lush pink lips and you lift an eyebrow in anticipation.

“Shit.” The curse comes out hoarse and low, but it’s loud enough to startle you. An immediate laugh is almost your response.

This is new.

His entire face scrunches up again and you feel his leg kick out and brush up against yours, the downy blond hairs are fuzzy touching your skin. He looks so disgruntled, like a child having been denied a toy. It’s getting harder not to let your amusement become audible.

“I’ll fuckin’ do it later..“ He mumbles, clear irritation seeping into his otherwise sleepy voice. “... sorry, Mom.”

You giggle quietly and bite your lip.

“Damn cat should clean his own shit up…”

Unfortunately, Katsuki basically goes silent after that final murmured proclamation. You resume playing with his hair and get ready to actually fall asleep since the show’s over.

This will be your little secret. Well, unless you feel like teasing him later...

#bnha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha requests #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader

346 notes · View notes

thebadgerclan · 4 years ago

Text

Broom Cupboard

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader

Requested by @fandom-puff

Summary: The Head Boy and Girl caught snogging...

Y/H is your house (if you’re in Hufflepuff, then just double the amount of points mentioned)

You giggled as Cedric pulled you after him down the corridors. Every few seconds, he looked behind him at you, a smile on his face. “Ced, where’re we going?” “You’ll see,” was all he said, turning a sharp corner. He threw open the door to a broom cupboard, gently pushing you inside before stepping inside himself and shutting the door behind him. You hardly had time to formulate an inquiry as to why you were crammed into a dusty broom cupboard before your boyfriend’s lips were pressed to yours.

Cedric snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he kissed you. “Ced,” you gasped when he pulled back for air. “What are we-” “Isn’t it obvious?” he cut you off, a smile on his face that he knew made your knees weak. “I’m snogging my girl.” “In a broom cupboard?” Cedric huffed out a laugh, kissing your cheek, lips trailing down your neck. “Well yeah. I can’t just push you up against a wall in the middle of a corridor, now can I?” Unbidden, a whimper left your mouth, and Cedric straightened up.

“Oh? Do you like that thought, Y/N? Do you like the idea of everyone seeing how I make you feel?” “C-Cedric,” you breathed, gasping when he nipped at the tender skin of your neck. “Shh, I’d never do that. No one gets to see you like this, no one but me.” You whimpered again, and Cedric brought his lips back to yours, one hand leaving your back and slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, tracking upwards to squeeze at your breasts. “Ced!” you squealed, and he shushed you gently. “You’ve got to be quiet now, darling. We don’t want anyone hearing us, now do we?”

As it happened, someone had heard you. Professor McGonagall had been striding down the corridor on her way to the staff room when the sound of clattering mops and quiet whimpers met her ears. Being a cat Animagus had lent itself to strengthening her sense of hearing, and she knew at once they were coming from the broom cupboard a few feet to her left. She walked over to it, expecting to find a randy pair of fourth years, but when she flung open the door, her jaw dropped.

“Mister Diggory, Miss L/N!” she shouted, shock lacing her voice. Of all the students she expected to find, the last people Professor McGonagall expected to find snogging in a broom cupboard were the Head Boy and Girl. You jumped, heart pounding, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Cedric pulled his hand from beneath your sweater, righting your robes as he did. “Both of you in the corridor, now! And make yourselves decent!”

McGonagall turned on her heel and walked a few feet away, pacing back and forth, mind whirring. A moment later, you and Cedric emerged from the broom cupboard, both flushed, both staring at the ground. McGonagall breathed deeply, preparing the lecture she knew was necessary. “Of all the students to be caught snogging,” she said, both you and Cedric were shocked to hear her use such informal language. “I never would have expected to catch the Head Boy and Girl!

“You are meant to be role models for the younger students! Never, I repeat, never, in my 40 years of teaching have I ever seen such reckless behavior out of what are supposed to be the top two students!” “We’re sorry, Professor,” you said, eyes still fixed on the stone floor beneath you. “We are,” Cedric agreed. “It will never happen again.” “See that it doesn’t,” she said, voice crisp and cut. “20 points from Hufflepuff and Y/H. Be glad it’s not more. Back to your houses, both of you!”

The witch turned on her heel and strode away, emerald robes billowing behind her. You and Cedric looked at each other before taking one another’s hands and making your way back to the Hufflepuff common room. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was nearly sprinting towards the staff room, a large grin plastered on her face. She threw open the door when she arrived, startling everyone in the room.

“You all owe me 5 Galleons!” she cheered, and Professor Snape lowered his book from his face. “Why?” “Because I just caught Cedric and Y/N in a broom cupboard!” Murmurs soon filled the room, some happy, others disgruntled, followed by the sound of coins clinking against one another. Professor McGonagall made a circle around the room, collecting her winnings from the staff.

But when she reached the headmaster, he simply chuckled. “Oh, my dear Minerva. I knew that Miss L/N and Mister Diggory were together for months.” “Months?!” she exclaimed, and Dumbledore nodded. “I know everything that goes on in this school.” He smirked again, popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth.

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

72 notes · View notes

birdsaretoddlers · 9 months ago

Text

OKAY SO. first chapter got an overhaul and i finished the second chapter, so i'm reposting both to. more or less gauge interest? thank you to everyone who's been so nice

Red Vixen Returns! After what appears to have been a two year hiatus, famed cat burglar ‘Red Vixen’ has struck again, this time taking a stab at Overeasy Industries! Newest reports claim that the Phosphoril Rose was stolen last night out of its exhibit at the Museum of Earth Sciences. The CEO of Overeasy Industries has promised that any information that leads to the recovery of the artifact will be rewarded handsomely-

“Turn that off, would you, Vette?”

The television cycled off the news and on to a different news station, then more news, and finally, a gossip tabloid that, again, was covering the news. With a disgruntled hock in her throat, the bartender tossed the remote onto the countertop, unable to escape chippy newscasters with dead eyes and fake cheer. “If you can find any channel not showin’ that, you’re welcome to it.”

The remote spun over the scarred and heavily-lacquered wood. The man at the bar stopped it with the hand not currently holding his glass, tapped the channel buttons a few times, and eventually settled on golf. The tournament lasted for all of fifteen seconds, but then the breaking news bled overtop of it, too. He finally turned the whole system off instead.

“Don’t know what you were expecting, Mars. It’s Overeasy. They’ve bought almost every station we get out here.”

“Mm,” said Mars. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“Awfully hopeful, coming out of you. Careful, someone might just try to steal that off ya.”

Knocking back the remnants of his drink, he set his empty glass an inch over the invisible line on the bartop, begging for a refill. “Welcome to it. Not sure who I lifted it from myself.”

Vette shrugged her shoulders and replaced the liquors to the shelf, sending up a puff of dust as she did. “Who cares where they came from? Keeps him out from underfoot. Better he go knocking over trash cans with them three than the neighborhood boys. At least the Valentines know how to handle a weapon.”

Mars gave his head a slight, acquiescent tilt. “Just thought you’d stay away from cats that reek of a family, that’s all.”

Vette leaned over the bar with one arm, gesturing at the establishment, as much as it could be called that, with the other. “Hey, here at the Dog, everyone’s family as long as they leave their guns at the door. Doesn’t matter who killed who, what corp fucked over the next, anyone that wants a drink or somethin’ to eat can get it. As long as they have the money to pay and don’t spill bad blood within two feet of the doorstep, that is.”

That was true. This dive was the only place that was truly neutral in the entire town. The bartender, her husband and the entire waitstaff looked and acted like they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you, so nobody dared cause any trouble within the doors of the Sighthound. Otherwise called ‘the Dog’, by anyone who had been here more than once. The walls, floors, even the tables were stained with the arguments of generations of enemies who had come together to dine as strained equals, along with a hefty dose of grime. Smoke hung low in the air, mixing with the rank scent of desperation. The opened front door only did so much to clear it out, but hey, if having health insurance was mandatory, why not get your money’s worth and take a deep breath of the carcinogens?

Mars removed his hat to fan it under his nose. He couldn’t smell the ethanol of his drink through this haze. Vette rolled her eyes, made a comment about his failing constitution, and wandered off without waiting for him to bite out a retort. “Sure, sure. Have to be the one born this minute to start anything here. You’d have ‘em cozyin’ up with a colander in a second.”

“Damn right.” Vette turned the television on again, though Mars hadn’t seen her swipe the remote out from under his sleeve. The ‘breaking’ nature of the news bulletin had faded, golf proceeded apace. She pulled a face and started scrolling for anything else. Mars sipped his highball and did not, though tequila rose was not a proper ingredient no matter what old swill Vette was trying to cycle through the inventory tab. “That’s why we say two feet away from the door. Gives us enough time to close it before we start gettin’ stains on the hardwood.”

With a subtle glance behind him, Mars studied the floors. It was hard to tell there was wood under the inch of grit and mud, but he’d take her word for it, as there was nobody else to ask. They were almost alone here. The ‘enforcers’ that were the Valentines were playing babysitter, the owner of the bar was shut up in his office, and who drank at two o’clock on a Tuesday? Other than him, of course.

Vette leaned around him, blue eyes a-blinking as the watery light in the windows grew dark with the shadow of a car. “Oh, that’s gotta be the lunch order. Hold that thought, Capone.”

Him, and the guy that just walked in the door.

“Loooonng gone, sweetheart,” he hummed, in a tone that might have been sing-song if Mars had the capacity for that. Instead it approached something like a half-assed croak, which was good enough for his purposes. It had been a long time since he’d sang anything, and the rust shaking off his vocal cords caught in his throat, making him cough up an ah-hem! to clear it.

The lunch order stranger that wandered in didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual. Most patrons of the Sighthound tried not to acknowledge the others, like a gaggle of cats sharing a particularly small bedspread. He wore a plain, unmarked suit, a hat pulled low over his eyes, devoid of any personality. Walking with an economical gait that was silk-smooth and too precise, he went to post up in the corner under the long since faded ‘ORDERS’ sign. Like any good customer who was interested in a lead-free liver, Mars ignored him utterly.

Vette had disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the doggy boxes herself. With the Valentines gone, off to play with Thompson, extra hands were in short supply. No waitress to ferry orders from the back, no pair of whackouts on the stage, doing an absurdist comedy routine or noodling around on an instrument or three. Such was the price to pay, when a small prince took a liking to someone. And in this city, the Vicinatos were royalty.

Well, maybe more like small, local lords, but the sentiment was the same.

Mars rested his head on his fist and circled his finger around the rim of his glass, mouth revolting at the idea of drinking another drop of the wallpaper paste Vette had poured for him. Drinks were half price, as long as he was fine with getting the overstock, or the specialty liquors that nobody wanted past the special occasion they were ordered for. That was how he ended up drinking vile concoctions such as ‘tequila rose’, which sounded nice on the surface until the liquid that poured out of the opaque bottle was pink rather than, oh, any other acceptable tequila color. Clear, for example. It looked like and had the mouth feel of a melted strawberry milkshake mixed with paint.

But, half price. Mars braved the chalky waters again and tried not to taste them. Not having a great sense of smell helped with that. If he added actual chunks of strawberry to it, the drink might not have been half bad. Chilling it would’ve really been a swell idea, too. Vette came out from the kitchen and Mars watched her hand over the towering stack of brown paper boxes to the stranger, who gave her a little nod.

He picked up his glass as she trotted back over, happy to while away the hours with him, as long as he kept drinking garbage. Mars gave it a little wiggle, ignoring the not-water consistency of the liquor. “Shouldn’t this be in the fridge?”

“Why, you gettin’ picky now?” Vette turned, plucked the bottle off the shelf, flicked her reading glasses down over her eyes from atop her tight, fluffy curls. “Hmm… Yeah, refrigerate after opening. You’re right. Guess you’re taking it home with you. Don’t have space back there.”

He did not want to take this home with him. “Whatever I don’t drink, dump it.” Mars rolled his tongue in his mouth, felt a film on it, grimaced. “Scratch that. Dump it now. Not even I’m gonna go back for another round.”

Whistling, Vette rolled her eyes. “You are getting picky! Can’t afford that out here, buddy.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you do, Mars.”

Mars leaned back on his barstool. He was going to try for something snide, slick, along the lines of what he might’ve said a decade ago. Instead, he opened his mouth and felt his shoulder get caught and yanked aside. Alarmingly, the chair screeched as it threatened to capsize and dump him out of it. In a scramble, he grabbed the bar and pulled himself upright, nails clawing the layers of varnish off in yellowing spirals. Something crashed wetly behind him, and Mars sank down into his shoulders, ears heating as he peered around to see what had happened.

He’d tipped into the poor guy who was just trying to get his lunch. The stranger ended up eating splinters, laid out flat on the floor, nose to the so-called hardwood. The doggy boxes had gone up in smoke, or rather, a myriad of pastas and sauces. Vette started cursing about her precious hardwood again, how hard the tomato paste was going to be to clean, that it would never come out. Cringing, Mars slid out of his seat, his arm smarting from the impact. The other man was silently stewing in the puddle Mars had accidentally created. His suit was ruined. His meal was ruined. His afternoon was ruined.

If Mars made it out of this without getting punched, it would be a happy day for all. Crouching and feeling his knees pop in protest, he offered the stranger a hand.

“Sorry, pal, I didn’t see ya there. Let me pay for your food, it’s the least I can… Oh.”

Oh.

He’d been right. That guy didn’t move right because he wasn’t a guy. The cold, dead eyes of an automaton peered up at him from under his stiff-brimmed hat. Mars felt something inside of him twist, under all the boozy cream.

“Quit your yakkin’,” he tossed over his shoulder at Vette, who stopped the instant she heard his tone, just as flat and lifeless as the machine. “We’ve got a bot.”

“A bot?” Neck craning to get a better look, Vette popped her lips. “Well shit, so we do.”

Mars helped the automaton back to its feet. It whirred and clicked, head jerking on a neck only made for minor motion. Not one of the especially lifelike ones, then. Its jaw worked but did not open, suggesting a lack of capacity for speech. Or emotion, though it was doing its best to pantomime dull confusion, like a dog seeing a magic trick. Completely at a loss for a situation outside of its programmed, day-to-day operations. At least it didn’t immediately resort to violence, like some of the crasser ones. Its outfit probably cost more than the bot itself, and bots weren’t cheap to begin with.

Most of them possessed basic learning ability and problem-solving skills, so in the interest of fair communication and a hefty dose of belief in miracles, Mars set both of his hands on its shoulders. He spoke slowly, clearly, enunciating his words so they would be easy to parse for a language model that was caught in the stone age.

“I’m going to pay for your meal,” he told it, indicating the splattered boxes all over everything in a five foot radius. Including him, he’d gotten ala vodka all over his slacks when he kneeled down in it to get the robot up. “Your bosses’ meal. Whoever’s it is. Where is he at.”

It stared at him blankly, the words stringing together into a sentence, then being fed into whatever neural networking it had. One piece of information, one command, two things that weren’t relevant to it. After a moment of processing, fake eyelids making a soft tik sound as they moved on an interval, it raised an arm to point straight outside. Mars nodded and released the bot. “Thanks.”

He turned to make good on his promise, but Vette rapped her knuckles on the bar to get his attention. “Don’t,” she hissed when Mars looked back. “You don’t want anything to do with what’s out there.”

“Why?” Came the question. He looked to the door again, trying to pick up what had spooked her through the small sliver of natural light it provided. There was a simple black limousine, idling in the street, and… That was all. Mysterious black limos were essentially part of the biodiversity in Tos Vardens. As natural as a pigeon, and just as plentiful. Nothing to be afraid of, most of the time. Mars arched an eyebrow. “Just another car, Vette. And the bot isn’t all that nice. Sorry,” he apologized to the bot.

The bot, incapable of feeling offended, did nothing.

“Why?” Vette repeated angrily. “Because I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. The whole setup reeks of a corp, Capone. Just send the bot back out there. I’ll refund the bill and call the number they used to order, tell them the kitchen’s overworked. Hopefully they’ll just go away.”

Pulling his lapels to secure his overcoat, Mars retrieved his hat from where it had been set on the countertop. “Yeah, well, maybe you can just sit by, Vette, but I’ve got enough morals left to fix my fuck-ups.”

He ignored her scathing, worried stare burning a hole into his shoulders as he ambled to the exit, pausing just outside the square of dim light where the pale sun shone in. “‘s what I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years, anyway.”

Then he set his trillby back on his head and braved the world outside, off-putting black limousines and all.

—

Emerging from the lusterless, muted world of the Sighthound, the outside seemed like a flashbang being fed directly to him on a mirrored plate. Mars squinted. This was why he tried to stay inside during the daytime. Even through the perpetual cloud cover, the sunlight still hurt his eyes. People smarter than him claimed it used to be brighter, that it wasn’t meant to be so dull. In his opinion, it was still plenty bright enough. He wasn’t sure how he spent days at a time in the great outdoors in his youth. He’d been out here a scant few seconds, and already craved the comforts of his barstool.

Tos Vardens was an old town, even by today’s standards. A monorail rattled in the distance, the scaffolding that held up the tracks curving over buildings of dubious habitability. Everything here was covered in a fine layer of age and silt, reflecting its citizens. The mayor eight years ago had tried to start an initiative to clean up the town, then run off with the donations and tax money collected for the job.

Nobody had been too put out by it. Or shocked.

The mayor in power now at least pretended not to be corrupt, but his grift was more well-hidden than most. It wasn’t cynicism or nihilism to say so, merely experience and enough time spent in reality. Everyone in Tos Vardens used whatever power they had to grab for more, an ouroborus of taken advantages and burned bridges. Made the tourism push more laughable than most, unless a guided tour of brick squares passed for sightseeing in the current climate. Mars wouldn’t know. He hadn’t left the city since he’d moved in.

The engine of the black limousine gave a short cough. Mars rubbed his nose with his hand, hunched his shoulders, and walked towards it. Slowly though, presenting himself as non-threateningly as possible, keeping his fingers well away from his pockets much as they wanted to jump in. People in this town tended to be tetchy, quick with their triggers, and he’d like to buy himself at least a minute before whoever was inside capped him for the audacity of being alive too close to them.

Unsurprisingly, the car had black-tinted windows, too thick and dark to see through. That proved Vette’s theory that it was a corp car. Most common folk couldn’t afford bulletproof glass, but Mars could pick out the layers of laminate sandwiched between the vinyl in the frame. Mars leaned down, hands on protesting knees, and knocked his knuckle against the window, twice.

“Hey, pal, I kinda knocked into your bot and spilled your food. Real sorry. I’m gonna pay for it, but you might have to wait a while for the order to get remade.”

Nothing. No movement from inside the car. Mars could see his reflection in it, and he hoped the circles under his eyes weren’t really that dark, though it wouldn’t improve much if they weren’t. At one point, he might have been roguishly handsome. Nowadays, he needed a shave and a solid night’s sleep. Maybe several. Couldn’t hurt. The only thing that stood out about him were his eyes, flat chips of amber that were wasted on a guy like him. A girl deserved those.

The car remained silent. Mars shifted his weight on his ankles, not quite anxious, and too disinterested to be unnerved, but decidedly uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Uh… Hello? You hear me? I said I was sorry-”

The window began to lower, with a soft, mechanical chirring sound. Mars wasn’t quite sure what he expected when it got to the bottom-

But a pistol in his face was woefully high on the list.

His heart jammed up into his throat, but was promptly snuffed out by the tequila and too much experience with this kind of thing. The gun was nicely made, well cared for and shimmering in the light. Pearl handled and connected to a slender arm, covered in a silk glove and linked to a woman who wasn’t even looking at him. A corp, forever shackled to the phone in her hand. The driver was another bot, who’s lack of attention was less insulting.

Right. Mars used the back of his pointer finger to push the barrel aside, not roughly, telegraphing his intent even if its owner wasn’t paying him any heed. “Rude,” he said, without thinking. “I’m tryin’ to do the right thing here, lady, so couldja put that away so we can talk like adults?”

The redhead in the passenger seat blinked. Unaccustomed to that tactic not immediately sending an annoyance screaming for their lives, she looked up. She was pretty, in a vintage way, like she’d strut straight off a theater screen and into this car. A cigarette stick was clutched in her pinkie, under the phone, and her hair was streaked with gray. Her eyes were so pale as to be transparent, only blue at the right angle. Black lipstick, red eyeshadow, the very picture of a woman who had better places to be and better things to be doing.

For a moment, she just… Stared at him. Mars wondered if she was a bot, too, one of those nicer ones that were almost impossible to pick out as inhuman, but eventually her mouth split into a grin that wouldn’t have been out of place on a shark.

“Why, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Mars Capone?”

He barely swallowed the grimace, but he couldn’t stop the tightness forming around his mouth and eyes before it took root. “Ma’am, your food?”

The woman let the gun swing downwards, the muzzle now pointing away from where it had been aimed somewhere soft. “It is you! What’s a man of your renown doing out in this backwater?”

He would not call the fifth largest city on the continent a backwater. Mars did not say so out loud, though. “I’m doing nothing and I am no one. I’m going back inside now, ma’am. Sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, no, no! We have so much to talk about. Stay.”

The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he caught movement glinting in the silver of her pistol. His body swept sideways without conscious thought, and the robot that had followed him outside stumbled clumsily into the space he’d been occupying not a moment ago, arms lancing through empty space. Finding it had grabbed nothing, it stood upright, head pivoting to face him. The woman in the car had the grace to look mildly abashed.

Mars put his hands into his pockets, arching one eyebrow. It would’ve been sarcastic if he wasn’t so fed up.

“Okay,” he said dryly. “Does it involve me getting into the back of that limo and going to a secondary location? Because I’ve got a drink inside I’d like to get back to.”

Subtly, he flicked his head at the bar’s windows. Both an indicator of destination, and a signal to Vette to put her own weapon down before things got complicated. She’d break the two foot rule for him, but he’d handled himself into this mess. He could handle himself out.

Waving her hands, the woman snapped her fingers and shook her head. The robot, dutifully, opened the door of the backseat and clambered inside. “No, no, Mister Capone. Sorry, old habits,” she offered with a sly grin. “You’ve nothing to fear from me. In fact, I’d like to help you.”

This day kept getting weirder. First a cream based tequila, then an all-channels news bulletin, and now this. “Corps don’t help anybody,” he stated flatly. Mars stayed where he was, a nice five feet down the pavement. The robot shut the car behind it.

The woman puffed her cigarette stick, blew a smoke ring out of the window and laid her arm over the edge. “Who says I’m a corp?” She asked innocently. “You know what they say about making assumptions.”

“You know what they say about ducks.”

She laughed. If he didn’t think she was dangerous before, which he did, now she definitely was. A laugh like that, so charming and musical, was practiced. Deadly as any piece of iron, and infinitely more versatile. Mars would not be moving any closer. Pouting, the woman beckoned to him with a single finger, like she was reeling in a fish.

“Come on now, don’t play hard to get. Give me your ear for two minutes, and I’ll forget all about the little bill. You can’t be doing too hot in the cash department, Mister Capone. Not after you cut your wings.”

Mouth writhing into a deeper frown, Mars flared his coat back and put his hands into his slacks pockets. She had him there, his wallet was light on a good month, and as of late, a good month was a distant memory. At the same time, he didn’t like how much she knew about him already, and how well she was twisting it against him. He weighed his options.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Two minutes. And I’m counting.”

He approached again, though kept the edge of his overcoat well out of grabbing range. The woman smirked, eyes knowing under the red eyeshadow. Mars still saw a glimmer of teeth under her lips, barely contained. “Good man.”

“Minute forty five.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Minute forty.”

Sighing, the woman placed her gun into the passenger door and ran her fingers through her hair. Even mid-rumple, it was styled in just the right way to flip effortlessly over her forehead, voluminous and beautiful. Even if she wasn’t tied up in a corporation, she had enough money to buy the Dog outright eight times over. “Oh, Mister Capone, would it kill you to lighten up a little? Don’t answer that.”

Mars swallowed the sardonic comment he’d had perched on his tongue. She rolled her eyes and took another drag, blatantly wasting time she should’ve spent on her pitch. “Thank you,” she continued. “Now, I’m certain you’ve heard the news today? I will be quite amazed if you haven't!"

Her tone was indulgent, breezy, voice smoke-damaged as to be low, but not yet rough and grating. Mars gave her a stiff nod, already afraid of where this was going. “I heard. Phosphoril Rose stolen right out of its case by the Red Vixen. Classic robbery for them. Nothin’ new.”

“Excellent! I want you to find them.”

What. “What.”

“The Rose, Mister Capone. And the thief both! A man of your skills could-”

“No.”

Mars stepped away from the vehicle. Mid-speech, the woman in the car paused, mouth open, looking up at the sunroof. She glanced to him, a small smile playing out over her features that did not reach her eyes. “You didn’t let me finish,” she cooed.

“No need, ma’am. I’m out of that game for good.”

“Aha, Mister Capone,” she began, but he didn’t give her time to continue to wheedle him. He turned away. “You’re making a grave mistake, Mister Capone!”

“Answer won’t change no matter how much capital you put up, lady. Mars Capone is firmly retired. Go ask someone else.”

Grumbling, and quite accustomed to getting her way, the woman in the car called after him again. “At least take my card? You’ll need to know where to route the payment for my meal, as that was not two minutes, and I paid with an encrypted account.”

It had been a minute and fifty seconds, but Mars could play the petty game with the best of them, so he slid around on his heel and marched back. It was quite impressive, really. The smug, triumphant expression she wore managed to ignite an emotion he didn’t know he could still feel: rage, incandescent and sparking. It was muffled, years of a stone-cold front didn’t melt off so quickly, but it was something.

The woman held out the card between two fingers. It was glossy, white and black, professional and understated. He plucked it out, stuck it in his hatband with an appropriate amount of force, and spun back to head for the door of the Dog.

She was laughing behind him, even as the car started to pull away from the curb, gravel crunching beneath the tires. “I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you, Mister Capone!” She sang, leaving behind a small pile of ashes from her burned out cigarette to mark her passing.

Leave it to a corp to wrangle his heart out of the box it was put in, only to mash it into a quivering, angry paste. Mars hunched his shoulders in and removed the card from his hat, infinitely curious at to what it said. He just wasn’t willing to give that woman the win she’d take from seeing it As she’d now left… He took a peek a the card, the identity of his would-be benefactor.

ELODIE FAUX

COO OVEREASY INDSUTRIES

ROUTING NUMBER 61524

Mars tilted his head up to the sky. While he’d been getting his chain yanked by the most powerful woman in the country, the sun had pulled the blanket of clouds over itself and hid. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, said the only word he could think of.

“Fuck.”

#mars capone and the red vixen #bird droppings #birds original words #thank yall. fr

24 notes · View notes