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zhongrin · 3 months

Text

skilled fingers, devious heart

✼ characters ┈ al haitham

✼ tags ┈ minors dni, fem-bodied reader (reader has a pussy), bratty!reader, manhandling, restraints, orgasm denial/control, edging, brat taming, light degradation, oral, light spanking, overstimulation, hint of c█rr█pt█d!haitham (hence he has his mean moments), aftercare, longfic (3.6k+)

✼ a/n ┈ “let me just draft a quick birthday oneshot for al haitham!” ー meirin, a total clown, circa 2024 /silly ..... anyways, happy birthday to the silliest man in sumeru. i love him dearly and i love that his bday is literally just a day away from my mom and one of my besties. very convenient to remember lol also, happy chinese new year!!! ✨

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

when you asked your boyfriend what he wanted to do for his birthday, you didn't think he would ask for this. then again, al haitham was mostly an unpredictable man, even to you as his lover. he seemed to have a knack for constantly having you on your toes, always anticipating his next actions and reminding you how much of a complex individual he was despite his simple aspirations in life.

such as now, when he requested you to ‘spread your legs and stay still’.

contrary to him, your answer was - at least in his eyes - predictable. a raise of eyebrows, a fox-like grin tugging on your lips, and al haitham could already hear the smug tone of your voice before you could even spoke the words, “make me.”

the fact that you loved to play a dangerous game with a dangerous man always came back to bite you in the ass, but your boyfriend played his part so well, it kept you coming back for more. he knew just the right way to respond to your challenge that made you shiver with want: muscles flexing as he pinned you down onto your shared bed, your preferred choice of restraints keeping you immobile and indecently spread for his blooming green eyes to observe. his pupils lined with brick reds dilated, the scholar stared at the resulting sight like a museum curator appraising an acclaimed artwork.

despite this, you were a fervent fire ablaze in the face of downpour, “it’s not like you to brute force your way into tackling a problem. was this morning’s session not enough for mister feeble scholar?”

ah. this artwork sure has a feisty personality to it.

al haitham snorted, his arm moving to place a hand on your inner thigh, tracing circles and indescribable patterns, “why do you bother futilely talking back and acting resilient in front of me, when it’s obvious how much power i hold over you? even the brightest students know to learn from their mistakes, so have you not learned from this morning about how powerless you are?”

he would never admit it, but while such display of bullheadedness irritated him when it came from other people, somehow it was almost adorable coming from you.

“wh- i'm not powerless!”

“the facts proved against your favor, however. especially considering how i’ve just succeeded in tossing you onto our bed and holding your body down. i know i could do whatever i wanted with you… and i was right, wasn’t i?” the hand holding your thigh squeezed briefly, his breath slowly caressing your skin the more he leaned closer, “besides, it’s also been proven that you like such treatments.”

you blushed, memories that proved his claims flooding your mind. yet, you huffed and looked away in hope to alleviate the warmth that was starting to bubble on your cheeks.

“so you might be needlessly strong physically, yes, okay, whatever. would you like a gold star for that?”

unfortunately(?) for you, despite the biting words, he didn’t miss the signs of your flustered state. his voice was as leveled as ever as more silken words fell from his lips; the very same ones you wished would just kiss you already, “remember how I pinned your hands above your head? how you tried kicking and wriggling, saying how you ‘can’t’ and yet… we both knew what exactly happened after that, don’t we?”

you felt your core clench at the taunt, throat swallowing at the picture he painted. your legs tugged against the straps as if you wanted to kick him. in turn, all you got back was an amused low chortle.

“cute,” the soft remark almost flew by you, but alas, before you could snap back at him, his touch started to trail further, tracing your labia before spreading the pink folds open with his fingers. an embarrassed squeak by you was followed by a condescending hum by your partner, his eyes zeroing on the slick coating your pretty clit and inner lips that oozed the remnants of your prior lovemaking, “and so mouthwateringly indecent.”

his digits dragged against your dripping cunt, a teasing smirk dancing on his face when a soft noise left your throat in response.

"such a mess," he remarked, infuriatingly nonchalant as if he hadn’t loved you so intensely just a few hours ago, “you were truly, completely cockdrunk last night, weren't you?"

“s-shut up…”

“why should i? you’ve mentioned how much you liked my voice. i doubt your perspectives had changed since then.”

“you don’t know that. maybe i don’t like it anymore,” you countered pettily.

“yet your body seems to arrive at a different conclusion,” the languid lull in his voice couldn’t mask the delight he experienced as he saw your sopping wetness drip with want. your lover smirked, dragging his finger up and down slowly, gathering your slick to circle around your swollen pearl, feathery touches leaving you wanting for more. the way you were shaking, your body twitching from sensitivity in return of his ministrations, was almost as hot as actual sex itself.

“ah… you meanie-” you inhaled sharply as this wicked, wicked man purposefully started rubbing your clit in the way he knew would make you putty in his hands. firm and calculated flicks followed by a finger slipping into your creamy cunt made you keen wantonly, thighs momentarily spreading wider before you found your decorum, rear falling back onto the soft sheets, teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

al haitham watched in fascination as you tried to regain your attitude. he wondered how long that would last this time. you were a puzzle that enthralled him, a chorus he wanted to listen forever. he might not have been studying under kshahrewar back in his younger days, but there was a part of him that wanted to pick you apart and put you back together again.

this was why he was so addicted to you.

he didn’t particularly enjoy doing extra work, but given the reward waiting for him at the end of the road, he determinedly doubled his action; one finger tapping and circling, the other knuckle-deep inside your tight heat, intense and unforgiving.

“fffuck- h-haitham-” the stutter of your needy voice sharpened his smirk, expression hardening into focus as he observed the twitch of your hips and the rivulets of juices coating his appendages. he briefly admired the way your skin glowed in perspiration, the way your fleshy parts rippled as you squirmed under him. no words could properly capture the desire brewing and consuming his whole being at having the privilege to witness such a sight.

he saw your breathing quicken, felt the clenching and unclenching of your walls, the way you started to move your hips as far as the restraints allowed, and your abdomen dipping as you inched nearer and nearer to bliss.

a mean glint of red, and his fingers withdrew quickly.

“wha- ah?”

you blinked and panted, eyes snapping wide as the coil loosened, and your sight settled on al haitham’s smug tilt of his head.

“i told you to stay still.”

“you… you prick! meanie! bastard!”

“that’s not the attitude you should be adapting given the current position of power,” he chided, before his hand deviously dropped back to its previous position, resuming in a much teasingly slower pace; a silent implication of what he could have done but chose not to, ”if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.”

“-son of a- oh! a-ah-” your words failed you as he added one extra finger into your warmth, prodding just near your favorite spot within the gummy walls, yet never directly.

you knew he could go deeper. he was dangling that carrot over you, and you were tempted to fall for his little game.

“pardon? what was that?” he asked, and if you didn’t see the way the corner of his lips curl up through your bleary eyes, you might have believed that he truly missed your barrages of insults born out of frustration, “would you like to say it louder?”

“archons, you- j-jerk!”

“oh?”

the sudden shift of his touch, turning firmer and faster, made you gasp and whimper, body twitching involuntarily as you felt the sensation build up yet again. your toes curl and your calves tensed, tugging against the harness as your biting words turned into needy moans. a shudder rocked your body, the back of your head digging onto the soft mattress as you felt him mouth on your collarbone, nibbling, tormenting in the most delectable way.

“use your words, darling. you were so smart with them just seconds ago.”

“haa- ngh! j-just let me cum, you unfair little-”

al haitham sighed like a disappointed tutor who had just discovered that his best student had earned an F in their recent exam. the sudden loss of his touch and the way you were forced to come down from that white-hot lines of satisfaction yet again made you cry out, the restraints straining noisily as you tried to buck onto something, anything.

a smirk returned onto his face as he witnessed your verbal and physical protest. that’s right, not yet. this was why he adored your stubbornness. he was going to tease and torment you until you were a total wreck, and then he would give you your reprieve in multitudes.

“how obstinate of you to continue denying your desires even when all outcomes dictate your loss,” the man remarked, palming your soft thighs and enjoying the way they dipped under the pressure of his hands. he was tempted to leave a few reds in the shape of his handprints, but he refrained… for now. that can come later.

“h-haitham….,” you mustered the wettest puppy eyes you could manifest - which wasn’t that hard considering the tears of pleasure already pooling in your eye lines - and blinking though your lashes at him, an adorable pout on your lips.

“what? is something missing to really help you release all of that tension?" he faked an indifferent tone fully meant to provoke.

you groaned, shivering as you felt the cold air brushing your flushed skin and swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, “al haitham...!” you whined while quivering, eyes blown in desire, your pride refusing to budge any more than this.

the man smirked as your protests weakened with every seconds that ticked, the look of desire and lust in your eyes clearly increasing in intensity the more he reveled in your plight.

"hm?" he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "still being stubborn?" he moved his middle finger towards the folds of your pussy, dragging it along your indecently leaking entrance and up into your aching clit, swirling slowly and making you shiver in response. even the smallest movements resulted in a sound that showcased how drenched you were, and it was all according to his plans, "are you sure you want to keep playing this game? you know who’s the more patient one in this relationship… you’re all tied up and i’m free to do this all day if i wanted to. i wouldn’t mind — it would be a good way to spend my day off.”

eyes teary, teeth gnawing on your lip, you bucked your hips as his finger touched the swollen nerves directly this time, "s-shut up...! you’re so- ugh! if you’re gonna be so cruel then don’t touch me at all!"

your beloved chuckled, dragging his digits up and down in the same teasing motion, playing with your sensitivity with a touch that sent you teetering to heaven but bordering to hell with how tortuously slow it was. he was a master as you were a slave to pleasure; your moans ramping up into wounded desperation just as he guided you back into the tightrope of lust, spiraling into the ecstasy you so desperately sought. you sobbed and trembled; heart beating loudly in your ears. you were so helplessly pent-up, so deliciously close-

“beg.”

the devil’s voice entered your ears and you grit your teeth. he wouldn’t, right? not for the third time. no, he wasn’t that despicable, he wouldn’t. he’ll give it to you, he’s-

“beg.”

the pressure lightened, and you inhaled sharply.

“please!” the word fell from your lips before you could stop them, “i need- i want…!”

your boyfriend stopped, a trail of your slick followed his appendages’ ascent as he withdrew to appreciate the stream of glistening slick coating your tender pussy and how your hips canted, trying to guilelessly chase his touch, throat singing a needy whine that sounded so beautiful he was almost tempted to keep denying your release for the next hour.

“haitham, please, please!” you sounded so high-pitched and so utterly adorable, he couldn’t help but place a peck on your thigh. tears of relief joined your tears of pleasure as you saw his pleased smile and the way he complied with your begging, though it still wasn’t enough.

“yes? don’t just call my name, darling. elaborate. go on, you can do it,” he carried on with the slow circles around your throbbing clit, fingers barely pumping into your drooling cunt.

“please! i can’t take it anymore…!" you hiccuped, keening, abdomen twitching, so sensitive that the slightest touch was making you toe on the brink of insanity.

al haitham smirked wickedly, watching as your mind and body were losing that self-control, your hips rocking back and forth while your face and eyes colored with pleasure. breathing in disarray, body a quivering mess, he almost wished he had a kamera to immortalize this perverse scene.

“are you asking me to help you release?”

“b-begging! i’m begging you- please let me cum!” you were definitely on the edge, shuddering, legs trying to flail against the tight bondage. a pleased groan rumbled in his throat, and his hand finally reverted into the pace and motions that made you see stars.

“louder,” a command.

“please help me cum!!!”

your muscles tensed as you tasted the precipice of bliss, your lips babbling, chanting his name and a series of undignified pleadings that implored him to not stop this time. you received an approving hum for your clear show of subservience and a soft peck on your cheek that made you moan in appreciation.

“i hope you didn’t forget what i said earlier,” he whispered against your ear, sultry and littered with hidden mischievous intent that you completely missed, too focused on reaching that high with each flick of his wrist and with each pressing prod of his finger—

the expertly placed thrust onto your g-spot was the cause of your crumble into depravity; walls sucking him in as your back arched in your climax. lips open in a silent scream, you missed the adoring look of your lover as he watched you spiral into bliss.

ah, your blissful ignorance is always so, so delicious to see.

before you could even start to wind down from your intense release, the sinful appendages picked up their salacious endeavors once more, three of them stirring your sopping wet mess and massaging your sweet spot relentlessly. al haitham’s mouth latched on your swollen bundle, his tongue flicking and sucking in turn, savoring your sweet taste and basking in your erotic cries that followed.

“can’t! can’t- too much! h-ah-ngh-!”

he ignored your feeble protests in favor of focusing on the task at hand; tongue lapping on the copious juices dribbling out of you as he pumped the slender fingers right onto your sensitive pussy’s weak spot. the sounds of your wetness echoed indecently in the room, a lewd orchestration of sensuality accompanied by your reprehensible babbling.

the second orgasm crashed against your senses and you sobbed, whining and jolting as he helped you ride it to your most satisfaction. eyes rolling, you barely registered the way he lapped at your juices like a man starved, before pulling back to observe the effect of his unholy actions. and he must have seen something, for when your vision cleared from euphoria, he had taken to caress you once again.

“one more. you can give me one more,” the rasp in his voice sent a jolt of desire in your loins, yet at the same time, the overstimulation had started to settle in. this time, the pleasure made your whole body tremor and for once you had no idea if the straps were a blessing or a curse; your limbs flailed and strained, instinctively writhing at the assault of stimulation.

“f-fuck! oh! a-archons- my love, please!!”

“i told you, didn’t i?” he purred, salacious and mocking, a flicker of red and a sneer, “’if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.’ well, my love, i am not yet satisfied.”

all senses of modesty had been thrown out of the window at this point. a series of disgraceful noises left your throat, tears running down your temples as you stayed rooted to your spot on the bed, oxytocin flooding your brain and numbing your senses. stringing words proved to be difficult when you were oversensitive and your lover seemed determined to see you mindless and utterly ruined by his touches.

if before, you were a helpless traveler stranded on a desert chasing on the mirage of an oasis, this time you felt like you were drowning in an ocean full of pleasure. all senses submerged in the ruthless waves of unbridled desires that made you both paralyzed and set you aflame.

“look at you,” al haitham's words came out harsh despite having a pleased hum to it as he battered your fleshy nub harder, insistent and undeterred by your unconvincing protests. he smirked, pleased with your cries and senseless noises leaving your lips, free from your brain’s usual filtering. your mind and body were already beyond your control as he slowly edged you closer and closer to that sweet release yet again. “so needy for me. gushing endlessly like you’re in heat.”

he watched you writhe and quake, a sliver of drool escaping the side of your opened mouth, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, but oh, he was enjoying every second of it. his free hand palmed your thigh before delivering a light slap, his eyes dilating when it made your breath hitch and your body jerk. each impact brought you to the absolute edge of delirium, and every time the pads of his fingers grind and stretched your gummy walls, the more debauched pleas left your emptied mind.

“c-cumming! cumming! i’m close, love, please! i’m- ah—”

“good,” it was almost sadistic, how he seemed to take so much satisfaction from seeing you so shamefully addicted to his mere fingers, “then come.”

a choked sob and a few insistent taps onto your oversensitive clit took your vision into a realm of whites. your finish was immaculately designed to enrapture you in a burst of nothingness, where nothing else mattered but you and your boyfriend's eloquent expertise. ears ringing, your consciousness temporarily froze in the state of heavenly rapture.

when you came down from the vivid paradise, you found your limbs freed from the restraints, your lover dutifully checking the reddened skin to make sure you hadn’t caused any injuries to yourself. seeing your glazed eyes settling onto his form, he leaned over and stroked your cheek, speaking in a soft voice with a caring tone far too detached from the demeaning and authoritative tone just moments ago.

“you did so well.”

though your senses were totally fried from the overstimulation and you still couldn’t exactly feel your limbs, a loopy grin spread on your lips. soft pair of green eyes watched you in adoration as he tucked you onto his chest, a gentle kiss descending on top of your head as he cradled you within his arms.

“verdict from one to ten?”

“mmmm…. twenty.”

“hm. it appears you’re still more delirious than i judged.”

a playful swat to his side was all you could manage, and you were rewarded with the rare soft laugh of your usually stoic lover.

“you’re adorable.”

“and you’re mean.”

“you speak as if the attitude does not bring you joy.”

“shut up and cuddle me.”

“ordering me around on my birthday? you’re spoiled.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“mine,” al haitham admitted with a smile, silently grateful for your presence, your witty banter, your hardheadedness, your loving eyes, your everything — you, who were undoubtedly and indubitably….

“mine,” he repeated and pressed another kiss, this time to your lips: a silent promise for spending his next birthdays with you once again.

bonus:

“still,” you sighed into his hold as your breathing steadied, looking up at him in half curiosity and half concern, “this doesn’t seem like a birthday present for you.”

al haitham looked down at you, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. he guided your hand, and your small daydream of him being unusually romantic to initiate hand holding before spewing some cheesy lines like in those light novels were dashed when you found a familiar hardness twitching against your palm.

“bold of you to you think that my appetizer was the main course.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #al haitham x reader #al haitham #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #minors dni

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elsweetheart · 11 months

Text

cats cradle

synopsis: ellie and her failed lab experiment bestie navigate her first ever heat.

♪ lana del rey, the weeknd — stargirl interlude ♪

cw: whew, this is gonna be a lot. fem reader, reader is a failed lab experiment which gives her cat like appearance in a few ways (ears, tail, claws etc) not furry porn, reader is mentioned to be 20 purely just for detail purposes but you can just change to whatever in your head idk, readers tail touches ellie in the night without knowing really lol, smut / strap on sex / foreplay / dry humping, overstimulation, small blood kink feature but nothing crazy at all, reader is just crazy and horny and primal, cockwarming. lmk if i missed any !

an: alrighty, here it is. i cannot stress this enough — if this isn’t your kind of thing, please just don’t read it. i won’t be offended if you don’t, i just don’t wanna hear any bs in my inbox please! this was experimental and i don’t even know if i like this fic or not so please be gentle. to the people who have been so sweet and encouraging throughout my up and downs of writing this, thank you and i love you! as usual, minors and ageless blogs do not interact you aren’t welcome here. enjoy! 🐈‍⬛ 🤍

WINTER

Spring would be here soon. That was all you could think of, a dull anxiety thrumming in the pit of your stomach at the thought. You stared at the solitary bright yellow flower peeking through its blanket of snow, the downfall of ice from the blizzard outside the window beating it mercilessly against the wind— and yet it stood, continuing to pop back up, almost like it was taunting you. You wished you could love spring. The thing about seasons changing was that they happened without permission and whether you liked it or not. Truthfully, you loved the idea of flowers and dresses and warmth on your skin, but it made it all the more difficult to hide the…elements of you that people wouldn’t understand. You weren’t talking about scars, or hair or bumps, no. You were talking about —

“What’cha lookin’ at.” The mellow voice of your best friend Ellie Williams broke you out of your thoughts, traipsing up behind you to sit with you on the window seat, tucked into an alcove below rotting bay windows in the abandoned house the two of you were holed up in on patrol, whilst the blizzard outside came down hard. She gets comfortable, drawing her knees up as she leant against the chipped paint, accommodating to make more room for you. Your head snapped towards her, towards her grey hoodie that — wasn’t you wearing that last night? shutup, and her khaki green jacket zipped up over it, jeans and Converse and messy bun tucked into the nape of her neck. Pretty. Always pretty. Always just a friend you couldn’t touch. Not how you wanted to, anyway.

“Nothing? Just watching the snow fall.” You sigh out wistfully, knowing you’d both rather be in bed on this early, freezing cold morning.

“Yeah? Y’looked worried about something.” She rasps, toeing you with the dirtied white tip of her maroon chucks and tilting her head. You dart your eyes back to the yellow flower springing up to see it finally get pummelled down by a huge globe of powdery snow. Hah.

“Just scared the snow will cover up the door and lock us in here.” You nibble your lip, tugging your pink wooly hat tighter over your head, ensuring it was still in place. She shook her head, casually, and her blasé attitude to most things often eased any anxieties that dwelled within you.

“There’s a smashed window in one of the rooms I checked, can climb out if we need to. S’why it’s so fuckin’ freezing in here.” She rubbed her arms in tribute to this statement, puffing out her cheeks for a moment. “You not cold?”

“Oh, I’m cold.” You flit your eyes over her with faux judgement. “Just not being a baby about it.” She huffs out a laugh, folding her arms.

“Fuck you, dude.”

Dude. You roll your eyes. Always dude, but ‘baby’ in your late night daydreams. You scrub the thought away.

An hour passes, and the snow is still coming down hard. 8:54AM.

“Okay, I’m sorry — what do you mean you’ve never played truth or dare before. Have you like, never met someone your age?” She’s smirking, always relishing in your lack of general knowledge because honestly, it made her feel like she had more to offer and teach you. You’re drawing a palm tree on the window’s condensation, the tropical sight doing nothing to mask the dreary weather outside of it.

“Okay first of all, we aren’t the same age — you’re twenty-two. That’s a few more years of experience to learn stuff that I haven’t.”

“And how old are you again? Eighteen?” She pretends to think.

“Twenty. And you knew that, idiot.”

She snickers, muttering a teasing “Baby face.” under her breath, drawing a comical penis shape with her finger beside your palm tree making you tsk and swat her away.

“Secondly, no— my old camp were all like, old people. I was the youngest there. Didn’t have anyone to teach me any of your weird games.”

It took you about twelve years of your life to realise that normal preteen girls didn’t have pointed ears atop their head, or a tail, or retractable claws and fangs. You knew you were different, yes. No one else in your small camp had features quite like yours, and you really knew you were different because you spent your life in hiding. Under protection. Ears shoved under hats and tail bunched beneath tight jeans. Hence, you know — the fear of warmer weather approaching.

You didn’t quite know where you came from and you were okay with that. Whispers between the couple that raised you, talks of your real dad being a scientist before this all went down which explains things… enough. You didn’t really want to know how you ended up this way, because it couldn’t have been good — or ethical for you to grow up part girl part animal.

19 years old, and you had moved into Jackson. Found at the gate. No more camp. No more found family. Just a girl who survived, stood in the snow. You’d met Ellie, a friend of Jesse who’d found you — and the two of you had hit it off instantly, as friends of course. Ellie liked how different you are to her, pretty naive with lots to learn in comparison to her hard edges and weathered attitude. When you weren’t biting back playfully at her sarcasm you were the ray of sunshine she’d needed in the snow globe that she lived in. She’d even stepped up to take you with her on patrol and ease you into learning how to fend for yourself a little, a skill you never acquired with your old group. That brings you here, sat on a window seat, trapped by a blizzard, doing very little learning. Okay, back to you Ellie.

“Truth or dare is not weird, I swear. Look, we can play it. Pass the time whilst we wait for the blizzard to chill out. You in?”

“Okay.”

“So,” She crosses her legs now. “You can pick, truth or dare. If you don’t answer your truth, I get to pick a dare. And uh, vice versa. Yeah. It’s simple.”

You nod, and she continues — rambling in typical Ellie style.

“Like, okay. Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” You grin happily.

“Alright, I dare you to run into the blizzard naked.”

“Uh — truth! Truth!” You change your answer, making her laugh.

“Alright… tell me about your first kiss.” She’s giddy, on the precipice of a laugh, dying to make fun of whatever story you come out with and you falter, dragging your eyes back to the window. The palm tree you drew in the condensation is starting to drip and create long clear lines down the window.

“I already told you, never met people around my age so… haven’t had one.” You shrug, peeling a bit of old paint off the windowsill. You glance up and she’s nodding with her lips turned down, trying really hard not to look judgy because she wasn’t, she swears and she didn’t want you to feel bad. She tucked away the thought that she found it cute. Found you cute. The thought of being your first kiss flashed through her mind as quickly as she erased it.

“Alright. No shame in the game. We’ll get you there.” She pats your foot reassuringly and you tense up in embarrassment slightly, a claw spiking through the knit of your glove making you close your palm into a fist on your lap. Ellie had heaps of experience, which kind of made your confession more embarrassing.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Her answer is almost instant.

“Boring.” You giggle.

“Whatever.”

You sigh… eyes wandering around the room, over the dusty canvases on the wall with paintings of mountains, perhaps the very mountains that surrounded your town— you couldn’t tell. What could you ask her? What did you actually want to know? What didn’t you already know? You bite your lip, eyes flickering around.

“Take your time.” She raises an eyebrow and you huff at her impatience.

“Okay, tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before. A secret that’ll literally bind us for life.” Your eyes twinkle and now it’s her turn to falter. She doesn’t want to glance at her covered arm, but she does anyway. Not that you’d ever be able to guess her big secret. No one could, you probably wouldn’t even believe her.

“Good question, see you’re getting the hang of it.” She raises her eyebrows, impressed and you bask in the sound of the icy winds outside, head slowly tilting to the side as you watch her grow a little uneasy. Ellie Williams, your best friend had a big secret. And you knew all of her secrets, so you were doubly intrigued. You knew about the time her and Dina got too drunk and kissed before practically yelling at eachother that it felt too wrong and they’d never do it again, you knew about the time she didn’t wanna trade any items at the little store for food so she selfishly shoved a can of tomato soup in her pocket and ducked out, knew all the rest of them because you remember her drunkenly shoving her hand over your giggling mouth and whispering “You actually can’t tell anyone, okay? Shit, why do I tell you these things?”

“Okay. I’m immune.”

“To being slapped? Answer my truth or face your forfeit.” You were grinning ear to ear, like she thought you would and — she nearly wanted to just leave it there. Let you believe she was joking. But oh, your perceptive self. You saw the falter of her bashful expression, the way honesty coloured her face and for once she couldn’t make eye contact. Surely not? “Immune?” You repeat, more like a statement but you’re confused nonetheless.

“Uh, yeah.” There’s no humour in her tone and yet you’re still smiling, waiting on her still to smirk or chuckle or something. When you just stare at her, she starts to undo her jacket. “I can uh, I can kind of prove it, I guess?” She pushes her hoodie sleeve up, and you’re faced with the tattoo you’ve stared at many times before. The pink pad of her finger traces along the inside of her arm, and your eyes focus — honing in on the faint scar curtained behind the dark blue ink. “There… was a bite here. Me and my friend were together when we were kids and we both got bit. She turned and… yeah, guess I’m still waiting.” Her eyes were distant, and yeah — Ellie played jokes on you sometimes. You were gullible and naive, not having faced the usual prankish behaviour of people similar in age to you before but this? She wasn’t that great of an actor. There was actual, real life pain behind her avoidant gaze.

“You’re serious?” You furrow your brows and she purses her lips, a pinkie-finger of gesture held in the air.

“Swear.”

You stare at her arm, and she reaches for her jacket again — feeling the chill of the house again despite an uncertain heat creeping up her neck. “How do you know it wasn’t just a one off?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll know if I get bitten again.” She chuckles dismissively. You go to speak, tell her how life changing her secret was but she’s quicker. “Alright, your turn. Now I’ve told you something no one else knows you gotta do the same. Biggest secret, go.” She exhales, and it feels like the room is alleviated of some of the pressure.

“Excuse me, what if I wanted to pick dare?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

Your ears twitched and you brought your knees to your chin. Ellie was just so vulnerable with you, but you’d always been told — under every single circumstance not to tell anyone about your…rarity. It was something that not even you understood, so sharing it with others could put you in danger. People often lashed out at what they didn’t understand, you were told it was that way in the old world too— though you’re sure people weren’t quite dealing with being a hybrid with a literal animal.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for my secret.”

“Dude, I just fucking told you I can’t get infected, you’re not gonna top that.” She exasperated, prodding your leg with her knuckles. She didn’t beat around the bush with her secret, or make you beg for the reveal — so you figured you’d cut straight to the chase. You pulled your hat off your head, ears standing to attention — hearing just that tiny bit clearer. Ellie raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was looking at, about to make some kind of comment like ‘Uh, your secret is that you have hair?’ — until her eyes darted up and stayed there. You pulled off your gloves too and held your hand between the two of you, sharp claws extending. Ellie jumped, and you pulled back shamefully.

“What is… what am I… what am I looking at?” She gawked breathlessly, eyes widening at the way your ears twitched shyly, the outside of them coated by fur the same colour as your hair, the inside of your ears pink, sprouting wispy white hair from it. Ellie could barely keep her mouth closed.

“Yeah, so… I’m like a girl who is also a cat who is also just a girl— nothing weird I swear — apparently my dad was a scientist and he made some fucked up combination DNA and — ah, it doesn’t matter. I’m a freak. Laugh it up.” You ramble, waving your hand in a way you hoped was dismissive and in that moment a gun to your head wouldn’t have made you make eye contact with the auburn haired friend parallel to you.

“Hey, wait — I’m just trying to… holy shit?” She furrows her brows before chuckling. “I feel like I’m having a weird ass dream right now, dude.”

You reach for your hat to shove it back on, and her heavy hand lays on top of yours. She watched the way your ears flattened like aeroplane wings and you frowned a little. “I’m sorry… I’m not laughing at you. That’s… fucking awesome. You’re like a comic book character, man.”

Your eyes lifted from her hand, heart thundering in your chest both from her reaction to your big reveal and her hand laying on yours. “So, a freak.” You go to move your hand but she grips it.

“No, just… cool… don’t… put your hat back on yet. I’ve got questions.”

A pause sat between the two of you, and she broke out into a smile again. “Fuck you, your thing totally beats my thing.”

“Thats not a question, Els.”

11:20AM

“So does this mean you’re immune too? Pretty sure animals can’t get infected.”

The window had fogged over completely now, view of beyond the window obstructed but you didn’t mind. It felt more enclosed, in a good way. The outside world didn’t exist anymore.

“I’m not fully an animal though. Don’t wanna risk finding out.”

She sat back, looking at you incredulously. Not like you were a spectacle, or a circus performer from the old world — but like you were something magnificent. Like a unicorn, or a fairy.

“This is gonna… take me some time to get used to. You sure you’re not fuckin’ with me?” She turns her head suspiciously.

“Oh I’m pretty sure. Had to live my whole life with cat ears and a tail, would be a awfully sick prank.” You huff, focusing your attention on scraping off the shimmery pink nail polish you had acquired on a previous patrol. You’d painted them to distract from the subtle claw-like appearance they had even when they weren’t extended.

“You have a tail? Show me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just pull down my pants.”

“Oh shit, yeah. My bad.”

You sat together, and you shifted under her gaze, palms itching to pull your hat back over your ears, shielding yourself from her prying gaze. This was… out of your comfort zone. You trusted Ellie with your life, sure. But this was a lot. You’d been hiding this element to your self your whole life and suddenly you’re practically hollering it from the mountain tops all because you were enticed to share a secret during a silly little game? Who else would you tell just because they’d given you positive attention?

“You wanna touch my ears?” You blurt out. What the fuck?

Ellie’s smile grew, telling you her answer and it was too late to take it back now. She slid her ass forward a little, knees pressing directly against yours now and lifted her hand slowly, carefully, almost as though you’d spook like a real cat if she moved too quickly. You seemed to blink, and then she was right there, her face so close to yours that her warm breath fanned over your face making your eyelashes tickle at the breeze she created. She clears her throat, eyes just floating up above your hairline and you feel the pads of her fingers gently trail down the backs of your ears.

She lets her knuckles gently smooth back the velvety fur coating, before getting more comfortable — short blunt nails scratching right in that sweet spot behind them. With the ball of her hand gently pressed to your temple as she scratched, you melted. The best way to describe it would be the feeling of sinking into a hot bath after being out in the cold wind, rain and snow. A sheet of goosebumps lined up across your arms and up your spine, your tail struggling in your jeans to curl up in pleasure. There was a gentle humming sound, like an engine maybe… a low rickety wind passing through a wooden floor board…

“Are you purring?” She cooed, and your eyes fluttered open. You don’t even remember closing them. The ghost of an alarmed bullet shot through your body but it just… felt too nice to react. Your pupils were dilated to fuck, it was almost startling to see.

“I guess.” You chuckle, a shudder flying through you, the warm purring sound continuing on. “Sorry.” You offer, but it’s half hearted.

“No, don’t.” She whispers with an impressed smile, eyes pinned by your intense gaze — voice gentle, as if not wanting to break the intimate force field she’d created around the two of you. “You’re so… cute.” She grins enough to show her teeth now, you rest the weight of your head more into her hand, pushing for more scratches now that her fingers slowed down, distracted. Your eyes flutter closed, sleepy and euphoric— and then open once more, a constant battle between wanting to just melt away, and also wanting to look at Ellies beautiful face so close up. She seemed to get closer each time you opened them, eyes drifting from your blackened gaze… to your lips…

Maria’s voice was the last thing you expected to hear in that moment and you both jumped. It was static-y, buzzing, making your head snap towards the radio Ellie had let clatter to the floor beneath the window seat. “Blizzards gone and cleared up now, two of you can start headin’ back now before it decides to pick up again.”

You swipe at the fogged window creating a viewing hole through the condensation, snow settling now instead of batting down hard against the ground. You sigh out, and you’re not sure if it’s in relief of the weather clearing up or the tension breaking — but Ellie seems to be shaking herself out of it too.

“Alright, uh — y’ready to head back out there kitty-cat?” She’s back to her usual self, hopping off the window seat and scooping her backpack and radio off the ground, securing them back onto her person.

“Ready as ever. Can’t wait to go home and nap.” You stretch, now standing beside her waiting for instruction. She sways in your direction with a smirk, raising a brow.

“A cat nap?”

“Are you gonna do this from now on?” You hide your amusement, leaning on your hip. She chuckled to herself, pulling her gloves back on before nodding her head for you to follow — taking off in a casual stride.

“Sorry. Let’s go get Shimmer from the garage.”

You pout, padding along behind her as you think of her stood there alone. “I hope she wasn’t too cold. She was shut in there for ages.”

“She’ll be fine. Old girl’s a trooper.”

SPRING

You didn’t regret telling Ellie, infact you were so glad.

It seemed to have brought you closer, the two of you against the world. The weather had finally cleared of snow by mid April, the green returning to all of nature. She’d helped you accommodate, coming to your home in the mornings and helping you pin your ears down to your head, gently manoeuvring your hair to sit on top of them, inconspicuous. Asking you “Does that hurt?” and “Can you hear?” in a sleepy morning voice. You, on the other hand would sit there trying not to pur at her touch. There was still some bite in the air, especially around evening time so you could still get away with stuffing your tail into your jeans, but the two of you often walked around in the sunshine on the days one or both of you weren’t outside the gate on patrol. Nights were spent having sleepovers, falling asleep cuddling because you know — it was convenient and cold at night time, especially convenient if you were getting up early for a patrol together. Definitely not because you wanted to spend every waking moment together.

You had been curled up reading, relaxed, ready to head to bed in an hour or so when there was a knock at your door. Your ears perked up, and you scuttled out of bed and looked through your peep hole, relieved to find the wind bitten, pink cheeked face of your best friend. You figured she’d just gotten back from patrol, swaddled in a khaki green windbreaker and jeans, hair in your favourite style — half up half down. You swing the door open, ushering her in.

She doesn’t mean to ogle you, but it happens anyway — eyes drawn to your bushy tail shyly curling round your thigh, a hole cut in the back of your pyjama shorts specifically for that reason when you turned around. “Hey you, couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back to my house. Plus, I got somethin’ to show you.” She wiggles her brows, heading to your room.

“Y’want a drink?” You call after her to which she promptly replies with “Please!” already disappearing into the warm comfort that was your bedroom. Your bedroom, a God damn hassle for Ellie to construct. You had… a vision, and that vision became Ellie’s problem when you’d started to build your little home space. “Els if you see any pink blankets on your patrol today please please please grab me one?” “Ellieeee I need a picture frame, like — a cute one.” “If I don’t get a fluffy throw cushion for my bed soon, I might die.” The list goes on. Her patrols were ever-filled with heavy backpacks, trinkets carefully balanced on top of eachother or stuffed into pockets. She smiles warmly at the memory, walking around your room — taking in each item along with its memory of finding it and smuggling it back into Jackson. Her eyes are glazing over your bed sheets now, thinking about you curled up in the you-spaced shape you’d left on the blankets, thinking about you fast asleep in the night beautiful as ever, thinking about you writhing on them with less clothes on — gross, Ellie — shake it off.

A matted tuft of darkened hair peeped from your mass of bed covers and Ellie squinted, bending over to get a closer look before pinching it with her fingers and lifting it. A clump of hair sat in her palm and she raised her eyebrows. Was that a —

“What you lookin’ at?” Your voice is sudden, lighthearted, right behind her— and she jumps, turning her head over her shoulder to glance at you guiltily. You stand wide eyed and innocent, a glass of water for her clutched in your hand.

“Jesus, fuck — we gonna have to get you a collar with a bell on it or what?” She rolls her eyes, clutching her chest before recovering, taking her glass and sipping as she holds up her findings. For a moment, something twitches in you down below at the thought of wearing a bell around your neck for Ellie. The feeling is warm and homely and disgustingly horny and you feel a little shame. She swallows her water an ‘ah’ and explains “Was just uh— I found a fur ball.”

You look at the clump of hair in her hand, then up at her, then back to the clump — and then you’re moving past her. You straighten out your blankets, revealing a hair brush and hold it up— plucking the ‘hairball’ from her hand and grasping it side by side. “From my hairbrush… doofus.”

Ellie makes an ‘o’ shape with her mouth and chuckles, scratching her arm awkwardly after placing down her glass — feeling maybe she’d jumped to a conclusion. This feeling is unfortunately confirmed when she sees your brows furrow, softening in stature ever so slightly.

“Do you really think I’m like… dirty and animalistic? I don’t get fur balls, Ellie.” You sound defeated and just a smidgen whiny, but she’s a sucker for it and grasps your arms gently either side with two strong hands.

“No! I’m an idiot! I’m sorry. Total jackass.” She reassures and you tilt your head, pout turning into a gentle smile. This gives her the green light to move things along. “However, I did get you a little something that might help us understand your… condition a little better.” The auburn haired girl is already shucking off her black beaten up backpack, struggling with the zip for a moment before sliding out a thick hard back book, a manual of some kind. Her eyes are on you, searching for any sign of offence and you catch the title when she spins it around proudly — ‘Caring for your kitty’.

She’s off like a race car with an excited explanation before you even get the chance to breathe, opening it up and flicking through it. “Stopped at that old library today, you know the one we thought the entrance was blocked off and we couldn’t go inside? Well — Jesse found another way in — so I was just lookin’ around, seeing if there was anything interesting and I found this bad boy. It tells you everything you need to know about caring for a cat and well… don’t wanna be a dick but… I’m caring for a cat, kind of.”

As she spoke, your grin only widened — pathetically, and totally embarrassingly so, because it was going against everything you had taught your self. You’d wanted to push this side of you down for what, your whole life? And then Ellie comes along, with her pretty green eyes and her tattoo and her hand veins and her — whatever, and suddenly you’re completely and utterly embracing the fact you’re like, absolutely fucked up, genetically? Crushing on your best friend makes you do crazy, stupid things. You bat your eyelashes at her, regardless.

“You care for me?” It was kind of a joke, but your voice came out softly anyway and Ellie couldn’t look at you because of it, continuing to thumb through the pages, very concentrated, what was that one page again?

“Why’d you think I brought this big ass manual back? Wanna look after you.” She mutters. You soften completely, and she realises that she said that out loud. You look at her, and she looks at you — and then she looks away because God damn, she’s falling in love. “Anyways. Thought we could go through it together. You got those sweatpants I left here? My jeans are like, damp.” She rambles, and you let it slide — though you’re positively floating when you point her to your dresser, pressing the neatly folded grey pants into her arms with a hazed out smile. “Thanks.”

You turn around when she changes. You’re not sure why, she’s wearing boxers — and you have some skirts stashed away that are probably shorter and more revealing (which you unfortunately couldn’t wear due to having a tail) but you look away anyways, out of respect. You clamber back onto your bed waiting for her, and soon she’s sliding up beside you in just her black tshirt and sweatpants, comfy and warm. Ellie clears her throat, sitting up against the headboard and opens the manual for the two of you to check out. “Ahem, caring for your kitty. With special thanks to Juliana.” She reads formally and you giggle, scooching closer until your cheek is pressed to her arm so that you could see the book. “Shout out to Juliana.” She comments, flipping the page.

You snuggle in closer to her, because well — it feels natural. The two of you had always been affectionate since becoming friends and since you’d shared your secrets it had only become more binding. When Joel had comment that you two were literally attached at the hip, it was by no exaggeration. The fat of your cheek pushed up enough to shut one eye as you practically tried to merge with her bicep, warm breath tickling her light arm hair.

“Y’always smell like oatmeal.” You comment, voice sleepy from her warmth and she’d barely even gotten the chance to read anything yet.

Her hand freezes on the page for a millisecond as she acknowledges your statement. “So— wait, oatmeal? That’s gross dude. I don’t wanna smell like oatmeal.” She complains, causing you to lift your head having busted out into a giggle fit. She lifts her hand and sniffs it, looking at you with a displeased expression trying to decipher your observation.

“No! It’s a good thing I like it. It’s just… Ellie smell.” You rub your eye tiredly and she’s fighting every urge not to kiss all over your cheeks at how God damn adorable you are.

“Oatmeal. Great.” She chuckles, shaking her head before nudging you with her elbow — a silent command for you to lay back down on her so that she could read.

And the two of you did, for a little while anyway. The manual was more helpful than the both of you had originally thought, and you came to realise that you had a lot more in common with the animal than you’d had believed. Between each paragraph, the two of you would launch off into conversations and comparisons, Ellie asking you questions about your behaviours and habits. It made your heart swell at how much she truly cared. “Kitten will feel attached to her owner when being scratched behind the ears.” Ellie reads out monotonously, thinking, before reaching up and scratching behind your ears. “To say I’m your owner would be a little crazy, I must admit. Can’t deny you some good old scratches though.” She chides in amusement, watching your happy smile melt into a dozed pur. You can own me, Ellie — God you can —

She read and read and read until you were nodding off, eyes fluttering shut and disappearing off into a dream land as Ellie’s raspy voice trails off, fondly watching you as your lips parted a little, more of your warm weight sinking into her side. “Okay.” She whispered, to no one in particular— and closed the book quietly, stretching to reach behind her and place it on your bedside table, turning off your lamp too.

Ellie was always a light sleeper, maybe she was paranoid or just protective — because she seemed to wake up constantly when she’d stay with you. Not that you didn’t make her feel more relaxed than anyone ever had, because you certainly did. She just… fuck, she didn’t know. She needed to be alert at all times. Just in case.

Tonight was like any other time, stirring at the cooing of a heavy wind outside the rattling windows. Her eyes found the back of your head immediately and settled a little, comfortable and dozed with the feeling of your ass grazing her front and the warmth of your back blanketing her. You slept like two people in love and if she were more awake she’d probably mourn the relationship that was out of her grasp. Too much of a pussy, too much of a risk to ruin things. But this, this she could enjoy in her half awake consciousness.

She was about to drift back off, perhaps a deeper sleep this time knowing that everything is alright and you’re safe from the harsh winds of Spring. Until, she felt a prodding. That was the best way to describe it. Like you were poking her, despite both of your arms being curled at your front visibly. She panicked for a moment, which woke her enough to open her eyes and gaze down at whatever the hell was poking her in the stomach. Your tail.

It curled at the end like a question mark, curious and wandering. She watches, fascinated at how you could be sound asleep and yet your tail had a mind of its own. It knocked on her, like it was asking for entry before it poked lower, lower, Jesus, lower. Without time for her to respond, your tail slots itself between her thighs, curling around and cupping her cunt. She gasps, bringing a hand up that was originally going to cover her mouth, but ran over her own head instead, frozen and unsure of what to do in this situation.

Why was your tail touching her up whilst you slept innocently on the other end of it? She knew you were sleeping for sure because of the quiet snores and the even quieter hum of your pur — making her wonder how she never noticed it before you’d told her about your rarity. Your tail slithered like a snake as if trying to get comfortable, which made Ellie’s mouth hang open as it practically moulded itself to the shape of her. The agile tip of your tail curled around, brushing against the material of her sweatpants all the way up to her clit and she winced, enough to stir you a little. Your tail seemed to go a little limp as you groan quietly, your sleep disturbed. God, what if she wakes up and finds me like this? Her fucking tail getting me off. That’s weird, oh god — you’re a creep Ellie. Move, move now. Jesus.

She spins around so the two of you are back to back, staring at the wall. Ellie clenches her thighs so that your tail can’t slip through them and grope her again, frowning as she squeezes her eyes closed in shame at how good it felt. It was wrong. Wrong and creepy and awful and she hated herself for letting it go on for that long. She willed herself to sleep, repeating those words like a mantra.

The next day you plant flowers together in the community garden. She doesn’t bring it up.

SUMMER

There were certain pages in the manual that the two of you would skip. It was too awkward, too intrusive — pages you would separately read in your own time.

If you don’t get your female cat spayed, they’re going to go into heat. How exciting! And if you’re experiencing kitty in heat for the first time, you’re probably wondering: how do I cope with this? Dealing with a restless, frisky kitty may seem like a challenging task, but it’s not nearly as difficult as you may think. We’ve outlined plenty of quick tips and suggestions to help calm your cat down in the short term, as well as some solutions to prevent heat in the long term. In just a few minutes, you’ll be able to give your loving furball the support and respite she needs during this tough time.

Ellie snickered when she read it the first time, a night where you’d fallen asleep at her house, curled up on the end of the bed by her feet. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there, it just happened — trying to give yourself space on the particularly warm evening. Not everything in this manual applied to you, like you’d insisted plenty of times — you’re mainly all human. Despite the purring, you hadn’t felt you’d demonstrated any feline-like behaviours (Ellie disagrees strongly, but can’t bring herself to argue.) That night she had sat up later, reading about cats in heat — wondering if… you’d ever… what would she do… no, Ellie. Stop.

When summer had approached, something had flipped. Things were normal until they weren’t— and at first you could blame it on the weather, the serotonin flooding everyone’s systems from the influx of Vitamin D, being able to wear less and enjoy more. Days seeming longer. Life seeming better. You’d grown more affectionate with Ellie, not fighting the urge anymore to be touching her at all times. Gently sinking your teeth into her freckled skin when you felt the urge, wrapping your tail around her leg when you’d stand side by side in your kitchen, clambering onto her lap with the manual and urging her to read some more so you could get sleepy and comfortable and fall asleep on top of her. You saw the way people would look at the two of you around Jackson together, they thought you were together — and you didn’t mind — even though you weren’t. Just two super close best friends.

When the calendar had rolled over to July, things seemed to intensify by ten. Things were changing, urges growing stronger. You couldn’t control yourself purring when Ellie would simply enter the room, kneading your claws into your seat of the canteen area pulling up threads, needing to be near her. Practically vibrating the floorboards in total bliss when she’s give you a friendly, subtle ear scratch in public being careful not to unpin your ears. Saliva pooling inside your mouth with the urge to lick her all over when she’d arrive to your home late at night after a rough patrol, ready to crawl into bed beside you and surrender herself to your grabby paws hands. Wanting to pounce on her when she’d greet you by the gardens, knuckle knocking gently beneath your chin with a friendly “Mornin’ kitty-cat.” Worst of all, the growing neediness you’d succumb to each night you weren’t together, mewling as you’d grind against a pillow pretending it was her thigh, soaking the sheets. You were starting to accept that you were experiencing your first ever heat.

You particularly enjoyed summer evenings in Jackson. The air was was balmy and warm without the scalding, overwhelming sunshine like there was in the day. Most if not all citizens would be in the town centre at movie night or the bar — which created a perfectly calm and empty landscape for walks. It was one that day, the one that’s about to unfold — that you were particularly dazed. You felt high, sensitive, walking on air. You wear a bell around your neck now, a giggly patrol gift from Ellie — something that tinkles quietly and could be confused with simple jewellery to the untrained eye. It sounds each step you take, a comforting noise that was special to you and your best friend. Your summer dress grazed above your knees, and due to no one being around, you didn’t quite care that your tail would occasionally peak out when a warm breeze would pass through.

You stroll past the flowers you and Ellie had planted in spring, stroll past the empty playground with the wooden climbing equipment that you had to continue walking on from to not give into the urge to dig your aching claws into. Your mind was set on finding Ellie — Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, who’d supposedly just be returning home from patrol. As expected, nothing quite getting past your astute cat wisdom — there she stood, facing away from you in just her adorable oversized white tshirt, greenish brownish greenish flannel and long baggy denim shorts. Your whole body felt hot and the sight of her, heart pumping and palms tingling. Approaching slowly, you hear her quietly talking to Shimmer as she undresses her of her equipment, occasionally stopping to give her affectionate pats and love. Ellie was always good with animals.

Figures.

You step closer, alerting Ellie of your presence. “Here kitty.” She smirks, continuing to remove Shimmer’s saddle before turning over her shoulder, eyeing you briefly.

“How’d you know I was here?” You swoon, dumb smile on your face as you step up to her. Probably too close, but something inside of you was clawing to be able to smell her, be able to feel the warmth radiating off her body. She doesn’t react to the proximity, just lifting a finger and jingling the bell at your neck. You fight a shudder when her coarse fingertip grazes the soft skin of your neck.

“Hard to miss you. That bell was definitely a good investment, you’re not sneakin’ up on me anymore, huh.”

She continues tending to Shimmer as you watch, a fond smile on your face.

“How was patrol? ‘Missed you.” You tug at her flannel sleeve for attention and she chuckles good naturedly, rolling her eyes.

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I? You’re always missing me lately. Is somethin’ up?” She turns her head to you again inquisitively, concern flashing through her eyes — as well as the stream of bright light from the sunset through the crack in the barn wall. She squints.

“Uh…” You sigh out softly. Yes. I need you. I want you. Come here. Fuck me. “No. I dunno.” You shrug, forcing yourself to look away, defeated. No, you’re here for a reason. “Can you come over tonight? Sleepover?” You realise you’re still clinging to her sleeve and she’s letting you, her eyes drifting to the way your hand slides downwards and catches her hand, intertwining your fingers. You know, just best friend things.

“Jesse asked me to hang out but…” She started, but trailed off when you became all fluttery lashes and bambi-eyed. “Fuck it,” She breathes. “I’m too tired for his shit today anyway.”

You grin, successful and tilt your head. “Not too tired for my shit?” and she scoffs, squeezing your hand.

“Never.”

She steps back, your joined hands bridging the two of you still. Her eyes are trailing down again. That little sundress, she hadn’t seen that before. Maybe hanging in your closet, but not out of the house. Her eyes dip lower and she sees a flash of fur swinging behind you, jostling your dress. Her eyes widen a little. “Hey.” She emphasises, nodding her head down. You’re still staring at her, at her freckles and the way they’re shaded from the sun — a halo of bronze and natural flush.

“Hm?” You sing. She furrows her brows.

“Your dress is short.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“What? Uh— fuck, I mean, yeah — but I’m saying other people might see your…” She nods again in gesture, nervous.

“Tail?” Your fingers trail up her flannel sleeve a little.

“Yeah. People might not be as… open to all that, babe.” Babe. A slip up, usually — usually said when she wanted to soften the blow, or when she physically couldn’t stop the affection from meeting her lips. You preened at the word anyway, didn’t even bother to hide it.

“No one’s around.”

Your claw traces the blue green vein on her pale wrist. You don’t remember it coming out, these days it seemed they just did it on their own. She winces at the light scratch, but she lets you anyway. Just ogling, wide eyed, a little confused and a little turned on — which confused her all the more. She silently begged herself, get a grip.

She tore her hand away, hoisting her backpack off her back and swinging it around — damn near smacking you in the face with it. “Got you a present. Know you like those.” She rushes out, sounding a little out of breath like she’d been running. You liked it, liked that you did that to her. You’re smiling and she’s like, ignoring it — because she knows you know you flustered her and that’s not like Ellie. Not like calm and collected Ellie Williams.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.”

She digs around, pulling out a black rectangular VHS tape. Hard to come by, but always a delight seeing as you had a TV facing your bed in your room that refused CD discs and would only play grainy tapes. Ellie turned it in her hands, displaying the white tape across the front that read in someone unknowns Sharpie’d handwriting ‘Disney Aristocats’

“Think it’s about cats. Thought it would be funny.” She chuckles humbly, her ‘you hate it. fuck my life.’ thoughts kicking in as expected.

“We can watch it tonight!” You grin, gently taking it from her — clutching it proudly in your hands. She relaxes, shoulders unstiffening.

“Cool. Uh, yeah.” She nods, scratching her scalp which made the half-up-bun bob at the back of her head. She looks at you, and then looks around, and then back at you. Always back at you. “Alright. Let me go home and shower, you go set everything up and I’ll be round soon. Just… get outta here, before anyone sees you. Yeah?” Ellie exasperates, softly clapping two hands down on your shoulders and spinning you around, carefully nudging you to start walking away.

“M’kay. See you then, Els.”

“See ya, trouble.” Eye roll. Or maybe her eyes just rolled back at the sight of you swishing away in your little sundress. She’s not sure.

You were stood in front of the mirror when the door knocked. Your heart jumped — like you weren’t expecting Ellie to even come for some reason — but more so because you wasn’t sure you could get away with pyjamas this skimpy. You wanted to seduce her, sure. But this was just obscene. You wore, what essentially was just a long tank top. It fell mid thigh, flimsy and thin, showing every curve and dip and plumpness to you. You didn’t ever feel insecure around Ellie, no — but she might just call you a slut.

There was no time to change, so you ran and got the door, feigning confidence. Something was… different about the way she was stood there. Her hands were in her jean pockets awkwardly, like she didn’t know what to do with them. She’d actually cleaned up surprisingly, wearing her jeans and off white wifebeater. She somewhat looked like she was trying, but maybe that was all in your head. She didn’t look you in the eye either, thick brown lashes fluttered slightly as her eyes jumped down you in segments. Tits, then tummy, then hips, and then tail. The sight of it flapping about freely made her usher you inside quickly, always aware of the risks.

“Hey furball, y’ready to watch the movie?” She clears her throat, looking around your house like she’d never seen it before. Nervous? Something else?

“Told you not to call me that, doofus. But yes, follow me.” You giggle, and that’s all you seem to do around her these days if not purring — constant girlish giggles tumbling past your lips at the slightest joke. It bordered on pathetic.

She enters your room with a chuckle, like — the type that says ‘you’re so fucking cute.’ in Ellie’s voice, if you can imagine. You’d set the movie up, the screen buzzing with static playing old timey music with the start up screen for the movie awaiting the two of you. You’d rustled together every blanket and cushion you could get your hands on to create some kind of nest for the two of you to get all cuddled up in, and even more than that if your plans went how they should. It smells like you in the room, and Ellie wants to stand there and breathe in so hard her ribs crack from the expansion just to inhale you in completely. There’s no time for that, because you’re ushering her down on the bed. It’s almost horny just from the way you push her down, both hands on the warm skin of her freckled shoulders — your smooth and grabbable thighs between her legs. “Get comfy. But not too comfy. You always fall asleep when we watch movies.”

But how could she fall asleep when you’re dressed like that? In your natural form, wearing so little and showing so much. Her palms felt like little ants were inside her skin, running around like their tiny heads were on fire — or maybe it was just the hand static from not being able to touch your electric skin, to graze her coarseness over your smoothness and hear the sizzle of you up against fingertips. She wanted to hold you by the back of the head, take all your weight, all your thoughts, all of you.

But she was here to watch a movie, like a good best friend. And if that’s what you needed that’s what she’d be.

Turns out trying to seduce someone into scratching the itch that’s been aching you for weeks was harder than expected. How were you supposed to initiate this again? Hadn’t you thought about this time and time again, written about your dream scenarios of getting down and dirty with Ellie in the middle of your diary where no one would look if they’d found it and opened it up? You’d practised this, time and time again whilst you fall asleep — or whilst you’re fucking your hand, or whilst you’re staring at her profile idly whilst she sits and draws. God, how do you make the first move?

You’re staring at her whilst this rackets your brain, and you don’t realise how shamelessly you’re gawking at her until she side-eyes you, a fond little smirk daring to grace her features — it was audacious how cute she was. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

She’s practically handing you the opportunity. Your skin burns, body pressed to hers. Her arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you propped up laying back on your bed and it’s all set up perfectly. You could say a million things, you could push your weight up on your elbow and reach up and kiss the side of her rubied lips. You want to slot a hand right between your thighs there and then, relieve yourself, show her what she’s done to you. The mess she’s made out of you.

You squeak out a “Nope.” despite all of this.

You keep planning and rehearsing, not concentrating on the cat movie anymore, that’s for damn sure. Who was that old lady again? What was that cats name? Who cares. You’re staring, syncing your breath to hers. You think yourself to sleep, cheek pressed to her collar bone and soft snores. Completely unsuccessful, but there’s always next time right?

When you wake up a few hours later things feel different. You’re not touching Ellie anymore — Hell, she could be gone for all you know. But you’re feverish, throat dry and prickly. Your skin is broken out into goosebumps despite the heat, your thin tank top dress completely stuck to your skin and sheering from the pure amount of sweat drenching you. What the fuck? Were you sick? You’re panting, aching but not all over — only in your… you reach down, half awake and feel your slick coating your inner thighs, pooling your cunt. You felt feral.

Your eyes shoot open now, because — well, you can’t be doing that. Can’t be touching yourself like that with Ellie right there. The room is glowing blue, and you locate the TV screen causing it. The movie is gone, finished, and the screen is on a standby channel, quiet and staticy as it alights the bedroom. You turn to Ellie, because you need her suddenly, feeling like you’ll burst into tears or cum without touch, whichever comes first and you don’t know why. Any shyness has left you when you turn, spinning onto your hands and knees to touch her and shake her awake.

She’s laying on her front, her wifebeater having ridden up a little to display some of her back. Her arm hugs her pillow, and you don’t remember her being that sculpted — her arms, the ones that hold you when you hug and lift the heavy gates on patrol. You reach out and touch, and then grab, and then you shake her awake. “Els, Ellie please.”

It doesn’t take her much, she’s a light sleeper as mentioned before. She panics a little, flipping onto her back when she hears your trembling, whiney tone. What’s wrong? What happened? She’s reaching for you before her eyes are fully open.

“Hey, wha’samatter?” She croaks, one eye squinting shut in the bright blue glow. You go to tell her but you just whisper her name again, and again and you just need her to touch. Your hand grabs her arm again and she sits up fully, eyes widening a little as she wakes up properly. “Hey, talk t’me.”

“Look at me I’m—” You whine quietly, gesturing to your fevered appearance but you feel like you don’t have time to explain. You have no sense of patience or shame when you scooch closer, hands sliding over her shoulders so your foreheads are nearly touching. You look deranged and her cunt twitches.

“I need you Els. Somethin’ is going on with me and I just... I don’t know but I need you.” You beg. Jesus, she must be having some kind of wet dream.

“What? Uh— you — need me how?” She stutters, and she feels like a fuckin’ idiot because where was the suave flirting skills and pizazz she promised herself she’d have when the day came that you finally asked her to touch you? Let her have you? Her stomach clenches in cringe but she barely has time to overthink it because you’re moving impossibly closer. Your tits are practically spilling out and Ellie’s palms are sweating so much that it makes her insecure.

“Think somethings wrong with me, think I’m in—”

“You’re in heat.” Your words overlap and the two of you are whispering like there’s anyone else in the house that might overhear you. “Yeah, uh — shit man, I read about it in the book, you know? I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d be able to… whatever. What do you need? You need some water?” She’s rambling, needing to think carefully about her actions. She didn’t wanna take advantage of you when you were so vulnerable… was this like, weird? Not because you’re her best friend — no, this has been Ellie’s long game since you met — but because of the whole… feline thing.

“No I don’t need water Ellie, I just want you to help me. It… it aches.” You cry miserably, dropping your face into her shoulder defeatedly. She smells so good, just like her — like Ellie, but so much stronger than usual, your senses heightened by ten. It weakened you, feeling this out of control. You sniffle, rubbing your nose into her top and she rubs your drenched back — sympathetic.

“Is it because it’s like… a full moon or something?” She asks quietly and your brows furrow in annoyance, pushing yourself off her to be face to face again.

“M’not a werewolf Ellie.” You pout, and her lips twitch up into a nervous half chuckle, relaxing a little as she reaches up and smoothes her thumb between your brows. She sighs. And then laughs quietly.

“I know that.”

The two of you look at eachother for a moment, a silent conversation in the place of what should be confessing feelings. You feel like you take the first step when you glance at her lips, and she returns it by glancing at yours. The looks get more eager, and your bodies thrust closer, and you kiss.

You wished it was romantic, like you’d planned for months. But it’s needy and eager and you’re panting and whining within thirty seconds of having her tongue glide against yours. You’re lucky that Ellie is just eagerly going with it, happy to be there. You didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable or come across as forceful — but that didn’t seem to be the case at all, especially not when she let out a little groan at the feeling of of you sinking down pointed teeth into her bottom lip.

She topples back when you lean into her more and you’re clambering onto her lap, thighs shaking. You hear yourself before you realise you’re not kissing anymore, instead whispering “Please, please, please.” against her lips with your eyes screwed shut as you grind your soaked cunt onto her jean covered one. Where you’d usually make a comment about her sleeping in jeans, you pant — and she lets out an embarrassingly loud, wide eyed groan at the feeling. The zipper digs into both of your clits from either side.

“Fuck, fuck okay.” Her hands hover, and she doesn’t know where to grab first. This is happening, God this is really fucking happening. She blushes at the thought of her dorkishly pinching herself, just to check it’s not some super torturous vivid dream as her hands float before just pawing at your back, pulling you closer. Closer. Need her closer.

You shuffle back in the dark, hands fumbling for that zipper that you’d made warm and wet through your cotton underwear and tug it down so harshly you think it’s gonna come off. Buttons get unpopped, and fingers get tucked into a waistband before you’re yanking down. Ellie’s getting whiplash at the speed you’re moving, eyes flickering across your desperate and pained expression. Fat tears sit beneath your eyes as you mutter the word ‘closer’ again, an inkling of relief when you pull her jeans down to her mid thighs revealing soft black boxers.

You sit on her again, and — that’s it, that’s the friction you wanted. You can feel the raised, round mould of her pussy through the material and she gasps when you grind down onto her, forcing herself up onto her elbows, eyes rolling back a little, hands gripping your thigh creases as she stared down at your white underwear smushing itself into hers in the dim light. You’re whimpering (and so is she for a moment), hips jerking forward and Ellie genuinely doesn’t know what to do with you. It feels so fucking good, but she feels like she’s not stepping up the way she should. She wants to take control, make it all better for you like she always does.

“Fuck, okay babe. Chill, okay? Mhpm, I got you. Let me help you. S’what I’m here for right? Lay back.” She whispers, and leans forward again to ease you backwards and like she can’t help it, presses another kiss to your lips. You both freeze, because this time it has feeling behind it. That’s also what you needed, you needed her to take control. You relax for a moment, letting her roll you onto your back barely breaking apart the kiss.

When she pulls back, she strokes your hot cheek with her thumb — staring into each others eyes. Hers are still beautiful and vibrant even in the feverish blue light, glancing all across your face with concern and fondness etched into her features. “Kay?” she speaks, tapping her thumb to your cheek for a response and you nod, huffing out a breath. Okay. Try to calm down.

She kisses the corner of your mouth, which trails inevitably into the crook of your neck, her swollen lips sucking the slippery skin with a hum. Your fingers are bunched tightly into her shirt and her jeans are still below her ass from your dry humping craze. You take some deep breaths, and she hears you — outwardly appreciating your efforts to be calm. “Thats good, keep doin’ that.” She whispers when you push air out of your mouth shakily, and the praise makes your legs fall open limply.

“You gonna let me help you out, pretty girl?” She kisses the centre of your chest and you mewl, body vibrating with purs as you nod. “Tell me, please. I’ve uh, I’ve waited so long to hear it.” She sounds nervous in the sweetest way possible, making you even in your haze reach out to comfort her, pushing her auburn strands out her face as she looks up at you pleadingly.

“Please help me Ellie, want you to touch me.” Your voice is jumpy from your shudders, and it transfers to her — your eyes just catching the way she trembles a little from adrenaline in the dark.

“Alright baby, I got you.”

Hearing her call you baby like you’d always hoped she would makes you heave out a sigh, pushing your hips up into her body weight trying to relieve yourself somehow. She shushes you, distracted by the feel of you beneath her palms now as she drags them down your body. Her thumbs swipe across your hard nipples through the thin material of your pyjamas and you mewl again, arching into her hands.

“Gonna make you feel better, promise.” She whispers but it feels more like she’s talking about you and not to you so you try to keep quiet so that you can just observe. She’s sliding down the bed ‘til she’s practically half off it, pushing your dress up to press fond kisses to your tummy. It feels right, like it’s something she’s been doing for months despite it being her first time down there. It’s Ellie, your Ellie. You can’t think of anyone you’d be in better hands with.

“Never,” kiss. “Had,” kiss. “Someone down here,” kiss. “Before have you?” She drags her lips downwards this time, gripping the meat of your thighs and spreading them. You sigh out a whimper and shake your head, embarrassed by how needy you were for a flash of a second before getting lost in your lust again. She whispers out an ‘Th’sokay’ against your hipbone as she pushes your thighs open before pulling back — taking a look. Her tongue wets her lips at the sight before her, eyes adjusted into the low light now to see how you’ve completely soaked through your underwear — lips fat and wanting through the material. Ellie let’s out a breath she was unaware to be holding, forefinger stroking through your covered folds with a glance upwards to make sure it was all still okay.

“God damn.” She comments, and you know what she means — she probably didn’t know it was possible to get this wet.

“Take’m off, please.” You whimper, writhing your hips around growing impatient once more and she nods frantically, peeling the cotton down your body making you hide your face in your arm when your centre clings to the fabric.

“So ready, huh.” She whispers, hot breath fanning over your bare cunt now. She breathes out a barely audible chuckle as she strokes the side of her finger across the small curled tuft of pubic hair that sat on your skin.

“Yeah, b—been ready for you Els. Wanted this for so l—ong.” You can’t stop trembling, and perhaps it was your feverish chills or the fact you were so excited to finally have your best friend in the way you’d wanted her.

“Yeah?” She cooes, but she’s barely listening — both thumbs pushing the fat of your lips outward, spreading you for her viewing pleasure. “Been hiding all this from me? But it’s so pretty…”

You sniffle, and she takes that as her sign to dive straight in — tongue flattening against your exposed clit and flicking upwards before dragging her lips down through your quantity of arousal. You moan, barely able to hear yourself through the loud purs emitting from you and buck your hips against her face.

You knew Ellie had experience, from the gutwrenching stories she’d tell you about her escapades with her ex girlfriend Cat (Funnily enough, actually her name — a foreshadowing all things considered.) But you’d figured it was just fooling around behind the barn, or maybe when Joel wasn’t home as the two of them used to share a residence. You didn’t expect her to be so… ravenous. If you knew that the girl sat beside you for so long could eat like this, you might have felt more inclined to approach her for help a little sooner.

The room was filled with obscene sounds, the sound of Ellie’s mouth ministrations which can only be compared to noise that belonged to stirring buttery pasta — mixed with her low moans against you because apparently you tasted that good. This was also mixed with, but not overshadowed by your desperate cries and purs as you pull her head further down into your crotch, panting up against the ceiling praying for release.

You hear yourself cry for “More!” and as if the thought had already sprouted for your best friend, her middle finger immediately pressed in against your hole — applying pressure and massaging that warm spot — a challenge for it not to slip right in given how wet you were for her.

“Can give you more. Lemme in, babe.” She murmurs against you when she finally sinks it in, sucking on your clit as means to get you to loosen up around her — which in hindsight wasn’t her most clear-minded idea as you only clenched harder. Ellie, much to your dismay removes her mouth for a moment to sit up on her elbow a little higher. She blows over your clit, smacking a wet kiss to it before looking up at you seriously — finger frozen only a little way in. Her free hand comes up, wide palm stroking across your lower stomach soothingly. “Gotta relax. Don’t wanna hurt you and you’re tight, babe. Relax.”

This side of Ellie made it difficult to not challenge this by clenching even harder. You could tell there was still an element of nerves to her, not wanting to fuck it up — but it just came so naturally to her to look after you. You push a shaky breath out through your mouth in a small ‘o’ shape, eager to make her proud again like before and focus on unclenching, her thumb on the connecting hand softly stroking your clit up and down to assumably aid you in this. “Good job, that’s it.”

She smiles when she returns her mouth to your folds, absolutely ecstatic to get back in there. You would have giggled at this if you weren’t so worked up, placing all your concentration into keeping loose for her and letting her press her finger up into a delicate spot you hadn’t discovered before. You jerk, briefly clenching again as her gaze snaps up to you— free hand coming back to smooth down your hip and ass, calming you. “C’mon babe, this is gonna get y’there. Help me out here.” She whispers and you try for her again, letting her press up into that toe curling devastating place. The bed rocks with movement, the same feeling you get when you’re half awake in the back of a moving car — and you glance down to realise it’s Ellie, and she’s fucking humping the bed, grunting against your pussy with her nose smushed to your clit. You feel the tears welling, and something turning like cogs in your stomach. Your orgasm approaches, but it’s only at the precipice of your cunt— the ache reaching much deeper and you panic at the idea of being left unsatisfied despite your deep lust, Ellie’s touches only making you ache more.

“Els, Ellie w—wait I’m gonna, let — wait I can’t it’s not — s’not deep enough I need more, need more it’s too —” You’re suddenly crying out, pushing yourself up with a look of absolute devastation on your face which is so sobering that she pulls her fingers out of you completely — pushing her self up at crazy speeds to meet you half way and cup your face.

“Babe, you’re panicking. Just talk to me, tell me what you need I — I can give it to you. Breathe.” She whispers, lips brushing your own as she attempts to comfort you, swiping away the tears leaking down your cheeks still. Your lip curls over, puffing out and wobbling as you suck in a quivering breath.

“More— just need to be… fucked, need you to fuck me, need it deeper.” You wail and she shushes you again, her slender hand coming back down to just cup your cunt in a way that made you dizzy, an attempt for her to comfort you and hold you in a way that you needed. Your eyes squeeze shut and tears moisten your lashes, feeling guilty for asking for such things, unsure if she can really give it to you. You didn’t want her to feel bad.

Ellie bites her lip in thought and tastes you. She did have that one thing… though she hadn’t actually used it before. It was a harness, a thick purple dildo lodged into the centre of it — stashed in a shoebox and shoved under her bed with crimson cheeks and clammy hands. She’d found it on patrol, and figured it could be useful one day maybe — a vision of you taking her with an arched back and her hips slamming against your plush ass making her wince and cup her cunt through her jeans in that very sex store. She had something that could help, and she had to push her pride aside to offer.

“Got something I can fuck you with. It’s… literally for that purpose but uh, it’s back at my place.” When she see’s the way your eyes light up with hope she’s jumping up, yanking her jeans up back around her waist, fumbling to do up her zipper as she continues to stare at you for permission. “I can run, be back in literally five minutes — do you want it babe? I’ll be so fucking fast you won’t even know I’m gone.” She’s not sure who’s begging who anymore, because since handed the opportunity Ellie has become obsessed with the idea of finally getting to fuck you good and proper.

“Yes j—just be fast, Ellie please be fast.” You mewl weakly, dropping back against the bed. She gives you a once over as she stumbles for her shoes, pulling her Converse on at a speed you didn’t think was possible and roughly tying laces. She’s out the door before you know it, leaving you to your own devices.

It feels like hours when she’s gone and you slip further into that dream-like, hazy space you’ve been fighting since she’d laid hands on you. Without her touch, the ache began to settle deep into your centre again — skin on fire and sensitive to the touch. You felt like you were being burned from the inside out without her there, rolling around on your sheets attempting to find comfort and coming up unsuccessful. The arch in your back only opened your cunt wider to the balmy air, and your nipples grew sore quickly from rubbing up against your bedsheet. A bead of sweat rolls between your tits.

Ellie’s feet hurt from the speed her Converse would slap the concrete of Jackson’s town— sprinting her way through the 4AM streets on a mission to bring you the equipment to satisfy your urges. Her heart thunders when she reaches her place, dropping her keys and swearing to herself as she fumbled to get the door open. She doesn’t bother closing it behind her when she runs inside, wood creaking beneath her heavy steps to sliding down on her knees beside her bed, reaching her hand along the dusty floor to find that shoe box. She finds it, muttering a borderline deranged ‘There you are’ before sliding it out, popping it open just to check it’s still there before slamming the lid back on and tucking the box under her arm, heading back to you.

You know she’s back because through your daze you hear the door shut and her loud high-pitched grunt of exertion, the image of her doubling over in your hallway to catch her breath coming to you almost like a prophetic vision. The ache worsens as her footsteps draw closer, her voice strained and out of breath as she calls out to you. “I almost — Fuck, almost ran into Jesse on the way to his early patrol. Saw him and, had to take a detour behind someone’s house cos’ he would have asked what was in the box and like — I can’t just get it out and show him…” Her panted words trail off when she re enters the bedroom, eyes falling on your desperate state once more.

It was a blow to her heart, seeing you so worked up. You were completely naked now in just your collar, brow slick with sweat and body practically glowing. Your tail curls around your thigh self soothingly, ears pointed high and alert. Your back arches painfully as you drag your hands down your thighs. You sniffle, defeated.

“Can’t even touch myself n’make it better cos my claws won’t go back in.” You shake, dragging your hands down your thighs desperately. Your sharp claws catch the delicate skin leaving long thin marks but you don’t even seem to notice. Ellie’s brows furrow and she rushes to you, sitting beside you on the bed and taking your hand in hers, looking at your clawed fingertips.

“Hey, don’t… don’t do that. M’here now. Can look after you yeah? Let me just…” She struggles for the box and pulls out the clattering harness and toy. You’re distracted for a moment as you watch, intrigued by the contraption that she’s pulling up her jeans and fastening at her hips. When she’s done, a purple plastic cock stands proud in the centre of her crotch, and your mouth practically waters.

It was animalistic, truly — and a little embarrassing the way you grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed. She even had the nerve to stumble a little bit, her back bouncing against the sheets as she scrambled to get comfortable and you crawled onto her lap. You press your lips to hers again like she’s your life line, letting out a muffled moan because you missed her. She’d been gone for five minutes and you’d missed her. You knew she’d tease you for that if it were any other time, but this time was like no other. She groans against you too, her hand cupping up to cup the back of your head and hold you there. You couldn’t get enough of eachother, all this waiting was finally paying off.

Your thighs shake around her as you wrap your hand around the dildo, sitting back as you can rub it up and down your slick a few times, collecting it’s juice. Ellie sits up a little, watching with wide eyes. “Jesus. Y’look so fuckin’ pretty.”

Her words send a surge of need through you again and you push the fat tip against your hole, adjusting so you can sit straight down on it. She winces for you, hands hovering above your hips. “Careful you haven’t taken anything bigger than my fingers before it’s gonna—”

You groan, melting into her as you sink down all the way. She’s right, it does hurt — and you’re frozen, laying against her shoulder hiccuping and quietly sobbing at the stretch. It’s way too much, but — it scratches the itch. Dulls the ache inside. You could power through this.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, hands slowly coming down on your back to rub soothing circles on your clammy skin. “Hey.” She leans back a little, tilting her head trying to get a look at you. “Look at me, baby.”

You do, because how could you not — blinking big wet, eyes at her in the dark. She wipes away some tears with her knuckle, brows frowned and concerned. “You gotta be careful. Okay? I don’t… I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t.” She admits, and it seems to carry more meaning than what she’s letting off in the moment. Your doe eyes well again, fist curling in her wifebeater and then loosening as you try and calm your jerky breaths. She slowly reaches down until the pads of her fingers meet your clit, engorged and pushed out from the way your cunt is stretched open around her. She rubs it in light circles, softly — making you preen into her touch. The pain of the stretch lessens and you can’t help but grind down.

With each grind, you become more frenzied — picking up the pace as you chase the feeling you’d been after. You’re moaning over the sound of your pussy squelching around her and all she can do is grab onto your ass and help you, eyes all over you. “Fffffuck, babe — look at you, takin’ it so well. Who taught you how to fuck like this huh? Thought I was your first?” She chuckles, breathless from your incessant bouncing and grinding.

“You are, Els — m—my first and my only, don’t wanna fuck anyone else ever again.” You whine, so loudly it can probably be heard from outside but who cares — not when she’s got you like this. This worked up and needy for her. It was something from her wildest dreams.

“Yeah? Wanna be my girl?” She grunts, your grinding aiding the harness in hitting her clit just right with each movement. With all this time spent helping you, Ellie hadn’t realised how pent up she was.

“Yes, m’your girl Ellie, m’your girl you — you own me!” You admit, and it seems things go a little quiet at the confession. You clench hard, burrowing into her shoulder as she processes the words. Ellie hears an incoherent ‘More’ again, and her body goes on autopilot — feet sliding up to press flat against the bed. She holds you still, arm across your lower back and pins you to her whilst she fucks up into you fast. She grunts at the feeling, and you cry. With each bounce she forces out of you, your bell collar jingles humiliatingly.

Ellie can’t seem to keep her hands in one place, leaving your back to feel the way your tits jump with each movement caging them under her hands. “Yeah, baby? Like that?” She cooes and feels you nod frantically into her, nothing but mewls and moans able to leave you. You’re gushing over her strap, walls spasming trying to suck her back in each time she draws back — Ellie feels like she can feel it herself.

“Y’own me. M’all yours forever Els.” You babble like you’re trying to keep yourself awake, alive, conscious whilst Ellie fucks up into you like it’s the last chance she’ll ever get.

“Yeah? This all mine, sweet girl?” She cooes, and finally you feel it — the hint of a knot in your stomach, the orgasm you’ve been chasing — one that resides deep inside you, the ache that felt like it could kill you, soon to be soothed by Ellie herself.

“Yes! Yes! Mphm, g’nna cum on your dick!”

Her dick. She’d never thought of it like that before. The words leaving your mouth sparked something in her, and suddenly she was the feral one. Her jaw clenches, strong hands pushing and tugging and rolling you onto your back. You gasp at the feeling of her cock sliding right out to the tip at the jostling, tits bouncing as you lay back on the bed. You looked vulgar and improper and so far from your innocent self, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel that maybe this was all on her. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone into heat if the sexual tension between you wasn’t so strong. What had she done to her sweet best friend?

You stare up at her with doe eyes, and she stares back for a moment — lips parted, jaw squared and eyes dark. This was the Ellie you’d needed.

Her hands slide up the backs of your thighs and push your knees up to your chest, pressing her strap deep inside of you. Her breathing is erratic, hair falling into her face as she thrusts in and out at a punishing pace, the tip of her cock nudging your cervix just right. It’s almost too much to take and you turn your head with a weak mewl, sound punched out of your lungs. She doesn’t let you, grabbing you by the jaw so that fucked out your eyes stayed on her own glossy ones.

“Yeah that’s right, look at me. Stay right here with me.”

“C—can’t.”

“You can. Be good, c’mon, j’st keep taking it, angel.” She moans and your toes curl. Needing her as close as humanely possible, your hand curled around the back of her head tugging her to your lips. You feel her arm pressed between the two of you, giving herself just enough space to toy with your clit as she groaned against your mouth.

You detached, unable to keep up with the kissing as you wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck — and she was okay with that, focusing on her thrusting to get you where you needed. You squeeze extra hard with a pained mewl, every one of your moans met with a cooed ‘Yeah?’ or ‘That right?’ until you were actually finally cumming.

You’re not aware of yourself when you actually do, feeling like water was being thrown over the fire that was your body all whilst igniting another at the same time. The sounds coming from you were…a lot. Purs and squeals and moans and squelching, nothing left to do but to let Ellie ride it out for you, telling you how good you are for letting go. You hear her wince and it brings you back a little, realising you’d been scraping your fangs along Ellie’s bare shoulder — drawing thick beads of blood.

You pant, and she stares down at you with a clenched jaw as you calm your self, recuperating after that Earth shattering orgasm given by your best f— you couldn’t surely still be calling her that right? After all that?

Your eyes focus, puffy lips smeared slightly with the blood you’d drawn from Ellie’s skin and you heave out a whispered apology, trying to blink back your concentration which was proven difficult with her strap still seated deep inside you the way it was.

“S—orry, got carried away I didn’t mean to.”

She goes to shrug, but the air is then punched out of her lungs as you lean forward a little, looking at her with pensive, wide submissive eyes before flattening your tongue against the wound and cleaning it up. She watches, still not having said a word before she’s gently grabbing your shoulders and pushing you to lay flat again. Her hips shift, a slow experimental grind rolling out from her hips as she watches you. Your brows furrow, jaw gaping at the sensitivity as you grab at her strong arms in a slight panic. She takes your hands and pins them down in a soft and loving way.

“What’you doin’ Els?” You sigh out almost in one breath, and that’s when she leans down and presses soft kisses to your cheek once more, her hair tickling your nose, wanting you to feel the love radiating off her.

“Makin’ sure it’s all out your system. You’ll let me do that, yeah?” She mutters, still breathless and you whine in response with a vicious nod. “Good girl.”

Your thighs, which you hadn’t realised had tightened around her hips loosened and fell open, your tail pushing out from under you to absentmindedly tickle your own skin. Maybe it was for comfort, self soothing you through the pleasurable pain of your overstimulation.

Ellie picked up her pace a little, her movements different from before— long and lengthy rolls of her hips making sure to graze every wall inside of you. “How’s that? That make you feel good?” It’s an earnest and honest question, genuinely wanting to know but you tip your head back, controlling everything in you not to hurt her when you dig her claws into the fat beneath her ass now — trying to pull her deeper inside since she’d let your arms out of her pin.

“Feels so good, Ellie. Y’look after me so well.” You whimper, one hand reaching up to push her hair out of her face and she blinks at you a little off guard— preening at the praise a little. “My strong, clever Ellie. Always doin’ what’s right f’me.” You whine, and it seems the praising is turning the both of you on as her brows knit, lips parting just a little as she grinds harder in a way that rubs her good down below.

“Okay, okay fuck.” She chuckles when she catches herself, which only makes you bite your lip and spread yourself wider for her. The angle hits your gummy insides yet again in a way that you just couldn’t handle and your legs are jerking, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out another soft orgasm — letting her pleasure herself inside of you.

She keeps going, and keeps going, and keeps fucking going until you’re all fucked out — Ellie’s boxers soaked and the strap shiny all over from your releases. The sun is starting to come up through the blinds making Ellie squint tiredly when she rolls you over back on top of her, your thighs splayed either side of her body — plastic dick still burrowed inside of you.

She lets out a sigh of exertion and a gentle ‘Alright’ when she tries to carefully lift her hips, trying to get a good grip on the base of the dildo so she could pull it out of you but you whine, clenching around it selfishly as you smush your cheek against her — fucked out and senseless, already half asleep. “J’st keep it… keep it inside, please. Just for a little while.”

The sentence makes her heart tighten a little and she just nods, letting herself fall back and relax into the soft pillows more, hand opting to instead lazily trail up and down your back until the movements were halting with her journey into sleep— drifting off to the visions of your beautiful face, and the memory of your kisses against her lips.

She’ll ask you out officially tomorrow. For now, she could just enjoy the peace that you brought her.

#ellie williams au #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #hybridkitty!reader

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

High Infidelity III (the end)

Adult!Neteyam x (f)Metkayina!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: smut (fingering, oral - m and f receiving, spitting in mouth, anal play, p in v, creampie, praise kink), mentions of cheating, cursing, violence, blood, 18+ minors dni for the love of god !!!!

Word count: 6k words

Notes: honestly i need to be doused in holy water after writing that, but i'd probably just burst into flames anyway. i hope you enjoy reading the last instalment of High Infidelity, and I hope it's everything you've ever wanted and more, cause omg, did I enjoy writing it besties. thank you for all the love of this series, I really felt it. i love you all sm xoxoxo

previous part (x)

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Neteyam’s face snapped in the direction of your voice, an unreadable expression marring his beautiful features.

“What did you say?”

You were boldened and empowered by the ache running through you, by all the feelings that mingled into a cocktail that looked a lot like bravery, that looked a lot like you were going to finally give in to your biggest desires and wildest dreams.

You moved closer to him, taking slow, purposeful steps, until you circled around him and kneeled in front of him, in between his legs, placing on hand on each knee to help you, and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered as you noticed the goosebumps on his skin where you touched him.

You looked at him intently, wanting to show him that you meant it, that you were in this, that there was no doubt in your mind, no wavering in your resolve.

“Neteyam… I want you to fuck me. I’ve needed you, ached for you since the moment on the beach, since you apologised, since you were kind to me and showed me there’s more to life than men who take and take until there’s nothing left. That there’s more to love than what I’ve known all my life. That when it’s right, you’ll know it in your gut, you’ll know it in the way your whole body reacts like it’s been set on fire, or like it’s been set free.

I should have called it off the second I knew I started having feelings for another. I was afraid, afraid of the consequences, afraid of breaking people’s hearts, afraid of broken expectations and unfulfilled bonds, but I am not anymore. I’m not afraid anymore, the only thing I am afraid of is living without knowing this feeling, living without knowing I’ve done everything in my power to give in to you.

You told me one day I’ll beg you to fuck me. So here I am. I am begging you to fuck me. To take me. To show me all the things I know only you can. The things I only want you to.”

Neteyam’s expression turned wild and fervent, and you felt the growl he let out deep within you, deep in your core. His hand went to your jaw, that he brought closer to his face, so close, your eyes were struggling to focus on him, and the tint of green in his yellow eyes. You found yourself tracing each gleaming dot on his face, each stripe that marked his skin like a battle scar, his full lips that were parted, the deep breath that came out through them and into you, and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to drown in the weight of his presence, in the weight of the feelings he brought out of you.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me. You have no idea what I’ll do to you. I told you you will beg me to fuck you, but baby girl, when I do it, I’ll do it until you’ll beg me to stop. Until I’ve made you come so many times, until you’re so drunk on my cock you can’t see straight anymore.”

“But not tonight. I don’t know what happened in the time you went away, but we are doing this the right way this time. I won’t risk losing you again. You can sleep it off, sleep the drink off and the night off, sleep Aonung off, and tomorrow, if you’re ready and you’ll still want me, I’ll be here for you, and I’ll be yours forever.”

You whined as he let your jaw go free and your mind twirled with images of his words come to life, burned in your imagination forever, gnawing at you to make them come true.

“But I want you now. And I know you want me to, I can see it in your eyes. I’m here, I’m begging you, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“That is what I wanted, just when you’re sober and not reeling from Aonung’s mistakes. Come, I’ll take you home.”

You woke up dazed and confused, needing a long while before realising you were back in your marui, back to the comfort of your sleeping mat and loosely wrapped in thin covers. You slowly rose, quickly regretting it, as the motion made you dizzy and nauseous and want to reconsider every moment that made it so this was your current life. Flashes of last night and all the hurt it brought with it started appearing in front of your eyes, furthering your sullen mood and unhappy state. So much happened, so much that you would give anything to forget.

As the world settled a little around you, you noticed a little trinket on your mat, next to where you lay your head. It was a bracelet, you noted in shock. A beautiful, intricate bracelet, crafted with a technique and materials characteristic of the Omatikaya.

Neteyam…

You immediately removed the bracelet that was already on your arm and swapped it for the one you were holding tightly in your palm, and tried to not think what a perfect allegory this was, how this was the beginning of your new life. The beginning of new love.

Your body loved the touch of the breeze as it caressed your skin, soft and tender, like a lover. It was necessary, like the air going in and out of your lungs, keeping you alive, allowing you to keep going. You tried your best to relax, tried your best to remove the anger and anguish for one man, need and ache for another, both of which felt like poison coursing through your veins, and tried to replace it with other, less intense emotions, like the relief of knowing, despite the hurt and the pain, that you could finally be free of Aonung, free for the first time in your life to make your own decisions, to live outside of the expectations and the burden placed on you since you were young, free to follow your heart, free to grow and be yourself, and to discover who that is to begin with.

You felt entranced by the beauty of the nature surrounding you, that you grew up with, that you’ve experienced every day of your life and yet somehow never took for granted, never fully got used to it, as you allowed your feet to feel the soft grainy sand beneath them and the water splashing over your ankles and calves as you walked on the beach that felt like your safe space, like your haven in the storm. You thought about Neteyam and his words, about the bracelet he left on your pillow and how it felt against your arm where it now resided and it will continue to for as long as you could help it, how even this gift was a perfect metaphor of your past and present. Aonung’s bracelet was beautiful and opulent, with rare stones and shells, with what he thought you wanted, but in reality, it was harsh and it scratched at your skin every time it was on your body, leaving friction burns and scratches that left you bruised and bloodied if you weren’t careful. When you lost it, you didn’t realise it, you just felt freer and weightless. Neteyam’s bracelet was understated and carefully crafted, with soft leather and round, polished pebbles, and it felt like velvet touching your skin, it felt safe and healing. It felt like the calming nature around you, like the warmth of the sun caressing your skin. It felt like new beginnings.

As your mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks, and those of the past few years, you came to the conclusion that this, this whole mess, is not about Neteyam or Aonung. Not anymore. It might have started that way, it might have been what set everything in motion, but it wasn’t the whole picture. This wasn’t about two men. It was about you and your life, your past and your future, and who you wanted to be moving forward. It was about realising that the shackles that bound you to one destiny were loose and rusted, and with a little force, you could be free of them, free at last to be more than who your chains led you to believe. The dark feelings that possessed you made you aware that there was more to you than what you thought, than what everybody thought. The ache and need you felt for Neteyam showed you you were a woman now, a woman who wanted to learn and explore her sexuality and learn what makes her body tremble, what makes it convulse in pleasure. Kissing him and letting him explore your body allowed you to see you were capable of wrongdoings, you weren’t just a two-dimensional being with only positive and light coming out of you, but you had a darkness in you, you had the capability to be selfish and put your own needs first, something you have never done before. The anger that enveloped you when you heard Aonung cheating on you, the thirst for revenge and vindication, the way you told Neteyam that you wanted him, showed you that you were strong, that despite your and everybody else’s view that you were frail and weak, and not a warrior, there was something in you - a power, strong and unflinching, an infinite untapped potential that you swore you would get to know in time.

You were so deep in your own thoughts, that the tug of your arm that spun you around almost knocked you to the ground, and you had to swallow the vomit that rose in your mouth at the harshness with which you were handled.

“We need to talk.”

As soon as the world stopped spinning around you, you were able to make out Aonung’s body and his face, sullen and tired, and you knew instantly he was battling a mean hangover, much worse than yours. You found yourself smirking at his state, hopeful that he was suffering and revelling in knowing he did.

“I’ve been looking for you for fucking ages.”

“Well, you found me. What do you want?”

Aonung’s eyes went wide at your words. He wasn’t used to you talking in such a way, determined, devoid of tears or quivering lips, of soft words and a trembling voice.

“What do you mean what do I want? You fucked off with another man last night, with the tree hugger of all people, and you’re asking me what I want? I want you to explain to me what he was doing there, and why you chose to leave.”

You were so shocked by the nonsense coming out of his mouth, so flabbergasted that the only thing you could think to do is laugh. A crazy, maniacal laugh that continued until there was no more breath in your lungs.

“You know? I knew you were a selfish, self-involved, self-centered jerk for so long, and yet I was continuously blinded by my own desire to see the best in people, the best in you. I held a flicker of hope that the kid I knew was still there, somewhere deep down inside of your shallow soul, but I see now I was blind. You want to talk? Fine, let’s talk. How long have you been fucking another girl, Aonung?”

You watched as Aonung’s mouth opened and then closed, and did so a few more times, while he was trying to come up with an excuse or an explanation, and you felt so free, so weightless, it was like you were floating. No more guilt, no more angst plaguing you, just a light, soft feeling, like a warm hug or sleeping on a cloud.

“Was yesterday the first night? Was it a drunken mistake? Did causing me pain, almost forcing yourself on me turn you on so much that you just needed to do it desperately, that you couldn’t help yourself?”

Your questions were once again met with nothing, no sounds, not even a twitch of the ear or of a facial muscle, no hint that your words were even registering in his mind.

“Come on, Aonung. You said you wanted to talk, let’s talk. Did an Akula get your tongue?”

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk, how about I talk? We’re over, Aonung. So, so over. You want to know why Neteyam came to get me yesterday? Because he’s a better man than you will ever be. Because even on your best day, you aren’t even a fraction of him on his worst day. Because in a few weeks, he has managed to make me feel things you never have, because in just a few weeks, he showed me there’s more to me than what you led me to believe, more to love than what I grew up thinking. And you know what else? I let him do things to me you could only dream of. I let him touch me in ways you never will, let him pleasure me in ways you couldn’t if you tried. And it was amazing. And I will do it again and again, while you will live your life knowing you blew the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Unsurprisingly, that seemed to wake him up from whatever trance he found himself in. The surprise clear on his face made way for panic, a quick brush of sadness that settled finally on anger, deep-seeded anger, manifested through flared nostrils and shallow breaths.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Good luck, Aonung. I hope one day you grow the fuck up, but it won’t be for me to help you through it. Not anymore.”

“You’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you? You act all high and mighty with me, refusing me what’s mine, what was MY right, and you go give it up to some asshole you just met? I guess it’s true what they say, it’s the quiet girls. Always the quiet girls.”

You tried to not let it affect you, his words, his horrible words that somehow manage to pierce through you like knifes, and kept your gaze steady on his face contorting in anger.

“Leave, Aonung. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You turned around to follow you own advice, but found yourself again being yanked back like a rag doll by his much larger hands wrapping around your arms and pulling.

“I’m not fucking done, you sl-“

The bone crunching noise that rang in your ear as Neteyam’s fist made contact with Aonung’s nose was weirdly satisfying, and you watched as the Metkayina man was knocked straight to the ground, blood pouring from his face and dripping down his chest. The impact was so powerful that his blood splattered over your face, painting you in red spilling drops. Whatever form of sympathy you felt for Aonung left your body the moment he called you a slut for doing something he was doing behind your back just a night ago, while not taking any accountability or exhibiting any ounce of remorse. You felt a sick satisfaction, watching him try to gather himself, hand on his nose, forehead scrunched up in pain and confusion. Neteyam put his body in between you and Aonung, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Leave. Now. If you ever, ever touch her again, if you ever look the wrong way at her again, the next thing I break is both your legs.” His voice was low and unflinching, calm and unperturbed by any emotion. He was scary. So scary, you felt that voice in every fibre of your being, and you assumed Aonung did, too. You watched as he got to his feet slowly, and a little wobbly, turned around and started walking away.

“I would tell your parents it was unfortunate, but it didn’t work out. That you felt like I wasn’t the right person for you and you felt bad stringing me along. That you fell in love with someone else. You choose, but I would hurry. Unless you want me to tell them what happened, but then you might not get to keep your family jewels, and I’m sure the girl you were fucking behind my back last night would be very disappointed about that. Good riddance, Aonung.”

You couldn’t stop staring at Neteyam, at this man who drove you to the point of madness, who made you want to do things that Eywa herself would cower in shame at, whose back was tensed with each deep breath he took as he watched Aonung leave like a wounded animal, like the coward he was. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, making you light up with excitement and need, making you pant with the aftershocks of the fight, with animalistic desire at how powerful and forceful, how brave and imposing he was. As Aonung disappeared from sight, and from your mind forever, you watched as he turned to face you, a desperate wild look haunting him. He approached you and you were able to take note of the blood on his face, that adorned him like war paint, and on his knuckles as his hands found their way to your face and hair.

“Are you alright?”

You just nodded, too overcome with his presence and all it invoked in you to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. That you had to go through that.”

You shook your hand and placed a hand on his, smiling softly.

“It’s over. It’s finally over.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, would not wait any longer, and you swiftly closed the gap between you and kissed him. Kissed him the way you have dreamt since the moment you saw him on the beach, kissed him like your life depended on it, like your sanity hung in the shaky balance between his touch and your body, like he was everything. The taste of blood on his lips did nothing to deter you, emboldening you instead, and he moaned in your mouth before deepening the kiss, lifting you in his arms effortlessly until your legs wrapped around him. He only broke the kiss to replace your mouth with your collarbones and chest, and you threw your head back as his touch brought fluttering in your stomach and throbbing in your core, that was calling for him, begging him to fill you.

Neteyam knelt slowly with you still in his arms, handling you like you were no heavier than a child. His strength and physique never failed to amaze you, and right now, neither did the bulge that brushed against you as he guided you onto the ground. You propped yourself up onto your elbows and stared at it, at him, until he smirked and lifted your gaze onto his own by a touch of your cheek.

“Like what you see, princess?”

You gulped and nodded meekly. He took your hand in his and placed your palm on his hard erection, and you couldn’t help the way you started feeling him, tracing its curve and girth, or the soft moan that escaped you at its feel, at how tight the loincloth was stretched around it, at how big he felt, at how empty your brain was at the thought of it slamming into you over and over until you saw white.

He spoke lowly, teasingly, while reaching for your loincloth, that he loosened and removed without any effort.

“Feel that, baby girl? It’s all for you.”

He pushed you on your back by placing a hand on your chest and used a little force to spread your legs, and you were puny in his hands, malleable to his touch, willing to be whatever it was he wanted you to be. He swallowed as he took you in, admiring you while his fingers trailed over your folds, reaching down south until they circled another little puckered hole, eliciting a small gasp from you at the prospect of what was coming.

“All for you. All for this pretty pussy, and your tight little ass, for this fuckable mouth.”

“So, so fuckable, I don’t even know what to start with.” He pushed two fingers in you without any warning and you dropped to the ground and arched your back almost on command, so excited to finally get some release, any release, like you have needed for so long. Soon enough, it became too little, and you found yourself needing more, much much more.

The bucking of your hips was met with a mocking chuckle and words that made you whine in frustration.

“Not yet, baby. Not yet. You’re not ready for my cock yet. We need to get you ready, and you need to be a good girl and get me ready. Come on, on your knees, my love. Gonna fuck this pretty face, first… what do you think? Do you like that idea, pretty girl?”

You moaned at his words, but did what you were told, rising on your knees, noticing dripping going down your leg as you did so, and came face to face with his hips as he rose in all his perplexing, over 9 foot glory. Being so close, so close with the bulge you were just caressing earlier, knowing faintly what was hiding underneath, made you almost vicious, and you found yourself reaching for his loincloth, untying it hurriedly, your urgency making Neteyam scoff lightly, patting the top of your head in a gentle and surprisingly loving motion.

“So eager, my love. Eager to get stuffed with my cock, aren’t you?”

As the loincloth fell to the floor, so did the rest of whatever pathetic inhibitions you had left, taking in his length, that was even bigger than what it felt like under the loincloth, so big in fact, you were genuinely concerned at how it was ever going to fit in your mouth, fit in you. Your wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the Omatikayan, who lifted your chin so you could meet his gaze, and whatever expression he was met with made a low growl emerge from his lips, and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

You couldn’t wait any longer without his touch, without feeling him, so you tentatively grabbed his cock in your hand, struggling to make your fingers meet as you wrapped around his base, and you started stroking him up and down, all the while grinding on the ground, trying to get any relief from the enormous pressure building in your core. Primal curiosity took over you as you closed your lips around his tip, dying to feel the taste of the liquid spilling from it and you moaned around his cock as it was better than you could have ever foreseen. The sound and vibration made Neteyam push your head closer to his body, and you gagged slightly as his impressive length made its way down your throat.

“That’s it, baby. Look how well you’re taking my cock. You’re doing so well, princess.”

Without any warning, he started a slow pace in and out of your mouth, holding your head in place with his hands, and fuck, you loved how he was using you as his own personal sex doll. It was so obscene, so filthy, so so good. He felt so good in your mouth, his sweet taste flooding your every sense, welcoming him further in, until your nose was touching his hip bone and his balls were slapping against your chin with every thrust. You wrapped your hands around his thighs, propping yourself to get a better angle, to be able to suck him off the way you wanted, the way you knew he wanted.

“Look how you’re dry humping the ground with my cock so deep in your mouth. You want to be fucked, don’t you, baby? Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

His unrelenting pace made tears appear in the corner of your eyes, spilling down your cheek, mixing with the saliva pooled around your mouth, that dripped all over his balls.

“You’ve never looked prettier than when you’re getting your face fucked. So pretty, princess. Those fucking eyes looking up at me, all innocent, so wild, so - fuck, you will be the death of me.”

“Gonna let me come in this pretty mouth, huh? Want to suck me dry, baby girl?”

You mewled approvingly around his cock, hallowing your cheeks and pushing your tongue against him to drive him to his release sooner, wanting, needing to feel him, to own him, a piece of him, like he owned you, like he would - forever.

“Ohh, fuuck - fuck, princess, just like that. It’s like you were born to suck my cock. Doing so well for me, baby.”

Hot spurts of thick liquid came shooting down your throat and the deep guttural groans he released as the orgasm washed over him was almost enough to bring you to your own - you’ve never heard something more erotic, something more salacious, something better, in your life.

“Good girl.” He slowly removed himself from you and pushed you back into the ground, towering over you, his still fully hard length slapping over your inner thigh haphazardly. “Do you feel what you do to me? Feel how hard I still am for you? I’ll never get enough of this body, princess. You will be dripping in my cum by the time I’m done, this is what being next you does to me.”

His lips crashed against yours aggressively, and his tongue pushed past your teeth into your mouth, exploring you, tasting himself on your tongue. His cock twitched and brushed your dripping folds and you whimpered in his mouth. He smirked at the sound, and positioned himself alongside your core, started slowly grinding his length on you, teasing you, bringing new tears to your eyes and unintelligible sounds to his ears, that revelled in it, that thrived off of how much of a pitiful, writhing mess you were under him.

“Please, Neteyam. Please, fuck, f-“

“You’re still not ready for me, princess.”

“I-I’m ready, please, I’m so fucking ready!”

He tutted in disapproval and removed his body from yours, leaving you empty and aching. You tried closing your legs together, but that too was promptly interrupted by his hands, keeping them far apart. He started a torturous ritual of kissing and licking every part of your body he had access to, masterfully avoiding the only places you wanted, needed to be touched. He started with your collarbones, and down your sternum, alongside your abdomen, and hip bone, your thighs, and inner thighs, and you were crying, the pleasure so great, and yet so incomplete it was hurting you, it was turning into pain.

“Neteyam, I - “

“Hush, baby. Let me take care of you. Let me show you why it couldn’t have been anyone else but me.”

With that, he placed a tender, barely there kiss on your bare pussy, then another one, and another one. His mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it softly, alternating between it and kitten licks, and the rough texture of his tongue made you see stars, made you convulse around his mouth. His tongue moved languidly, drawing numbers on your swollen pussy, pushing into you and lapping at the liquid falling down his chin. You tasted like heaven to him, like a ripened summer fruit, like a flower in spring, blossoming around him, inundating his smell, coating his tongue in its aroma. He loved seeing you like this, all of this, falling apart at the seams in pleasure, tears prodding at your eyes, lips parted and cheeks flushed, chest heaving up and down, hands in his hair, pushing his tongue deeper in your sopping cunt. He loved all of it.

Two slender, long fingers made their way inside of you, feeling you, curling them to massage the perfect spot, the spot he found last time, the spot he knew would make you come undone, and he couldn’t help the arrogance in his tone as he talked.

“Come for me, princess. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

Your orgasm flushed over you, the most intense feeling you have ever felt, and you now understood why he edged you for so long, and even in your dazed mind, you were grateful that he seemed to know your body better than you knew it yourself.

He continued licking at your entrance, not wasting a drop of your cum, not when it was better than any liquor, better than any drink he’s ever been fortunate enough to taste. When he finished, he got back on top of you until you were face to face, and you noticed weakly the glistening on his chin as your juices coated it, and the smirk he had on those beautiful lips that was unrelenting. He knew he was amazing, he knew what he was doing to you.

“See, baby? I know what you need. I’m what you need. Open your mouth.” You did so, no questions asked, and watched as he spit in your mouth, licking your lips in order not to miss anything, humming to yourself as the taste of your own cum registered on your tongue.

“Feel how good you taste. So fucking good, princess.”

“I think you’ve suffered enough. I think it’s time you get what you deserve for being such a good girl. The best girl.”

You felt his arm on your abdomen as he reached down and aligned himself with your folds, his bulbous tip rubbing against your warm, aching entrance. Slowly, gently, he starts sinking into you, allowing you to feel each inch, allowing you to take in the delicious stretch, and the feeling of you wrapping around him brought shivers down his spine. The mewls escaping your lips fuelled his hunger for your body, fuelled his need to push you until you were so overstimulated, you were blacking out with him still deep inside your cunt.

“Eyes on me, baby girl. Look at how deep in you I am, I want you to watch me fuck you.” Neteyam’s cock twitched inside of you at your incredulous expression, at your wide eyes and fucked out face as your stomach deformed slightly, a bulge appearing every time he pushed deep into your cervix. It drives him to the point of insanity, that look, and he starts a maddening pace, quick and rough, rutting into you deeply, watching as your tits bounce with every thrust.

Your mind is blank of any thoughts and full of immeasurable pleasure, unholy sounds escaping your lips like a prayer, like a litany to keep going, to not stop, because fuck, this is the best feeling of your life, being so owned, so free, so helpless, so in control of your own desires, so full, full to the brim with pleasure, with love, with his cock. You start to see stars, as the now familiar feeling draws closer, and your entire body starts shaking in preparation for the wave you knew was about to hit you any second. His thrusts are unrelenting, hitting your cervix mercilessly as your walls tighten around him, wanting to keep him, to never let him go.

“That’s it, baby. You’re clenching my cock so tightly, want to come all over me, princess? Want to cover my dick with that sweet cum?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Yes yes yes!”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as the orgasm drowns you in overwhelming, toe-curling sensations, and you start doubting you will ever see or hear properly ever again, as the world is enveloped in a white, over-exposed glow and your ears lose their ability to discern the waves and the birds flying above you.

“We’re not done, my love.” You barely registered his manoeuvring your now limp body, turning you upside down, so that your chest was flush against the ground as his hands lifted your ass up, his cock once more prodding at your entrance, and you whine, crying as you are barely able to understand what is going on, much less able to appreciate the way he’s spreading your ass cheeks, massaging them slowly, purposefully, while he sinks back into your wet, sensitive, throbbing cunt.

“Neteyam, I can’t anymore… ’s too much.”

“You can, baby. One more for me, come on. I promised you I’d fuck you til you can’t see straight anymore, and I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“You say you can’t, but look how good this pussy’s taking me, look how it moulds around my cock, how you’re squeezing me. You’re so good for me, princess. I can’t believe I get to do this, can’t believe you’re mine.”

A slap on your ass makes you yelp in pain, waking you up like from a daydream.

“I need to hear you say it, my love.”

“’m yours, Neteyam. Yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. And I’m yours. You own me.”

You can’t help the way you instinctively push back on Neteyam, can’t help the way, even in this fucked-out state, you’re still searching for more, you still need him deeper, need him to fuck you dumb, fuck you until you’re passed out on the sand. You match his animalistic thrusts the best you can, moaning loudly, wildly, as each of them takes the breath out of your lungs, as each of them fills you up to the brim, as each of them takes you closer to that third release.

“M-more. I need more.”

“You filthy girl. Such a slut for me, aren’t you? My little slut, drunk on my cock.”

You gasp as his thumb traces your asshole, then slowly removes it and brings his hand to your face, his other hand caressing your lower back.

“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” You did as you were told, and he pushed two fingers inside your mouth and down you throat, and you sucked on them, allowing your tongue to trace in between them, coating them with your saliva.

“Good girl.”

He moved his hand back to your ass again, and slowly pushes one finger in, ignoring the mewling sounds spilling past your lips. He started moving his finger in and out of you slowly, adding the other, all the while rutting into you like a rabid animal in heat, pushing you forward with each thrust, holding you tightly by your hips, leaving imprints on your sensitive skin that you knew would be bruised when this was all over. You loved it.

The feeling of his cock burrowing deep inside your core and his fingers moving in an out of your ass slowly was too much, and you were bracing for the snapping of the coil that has been tightening inside of you, knowing that when it snapped, so will you, and your last remaining consciousness.

“You gonna let me cum in this pussy? Want me to fill you up real nice, paint those pretty pink walls white?”

You tried to answer, but only ugly whimpers came out, and by the sound of his melodic laugh, you knew he took that as a yes.

“Come on, princess. Be a good girl and milk my cock dry.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, as the orgasm took everything out of you, and you would take everything out of him, as a result. He was right. When he was done, you were so drunk on his cock, you really couldn’t see anymore. And as he lowered his body on yours, resting his chest on your back and peppering small, gentle kisses on the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings and telling you how good you did, you knew you were excited not be able to see straight every day, for the rest of your life.

thank you again to everyone who likes, replies and reblogs and asked to be tagged, i love you all x

@jackiehollanderr @afro-hispwriter @sanranrin @universal-s1ut @neteyamforlife @arminsgfloll @avatar-on-top @neteyamsyawntu @farleyis @jjkclub @doulcha @adaiasafira @teyamsmate @ang-taylorsversion @junnniiieee07 @americanbeauty-americanpsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @netemoon @shayligames-blog @hotmenwhoree @yan-ghost-yan @iikatsukii @rgbsona @moneyoverl0v3

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yokohamapound · 1 year

Note

Hi bestie! Great to find a new BSD blog! For starters, can we have some hcs on what kind of lingerie Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor would buy their fem!s/o? ;)

Hey, I hope you enjoy these!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings: NSFW, lingerie

Dazai Osamu

This man is what we like to call an omniwhore. If it's on your body, he's interested in getting it off and getting you off.

Dazai's stated himself that he has quite wide-ranging tastes, so it's highly likely he'll just buy you something you'd feel sexy in, but if he had completely free reign...?

His tastes are pretty classic. He'd probably go for something black, with lace. He likes how it feels, warmed by your skin, against his hands, his tongue...

That being said, you don't need to buy anything expensive to seduce him. You could be lounging around in one of his shirts and a pair of thigh-highs and that would count as lingerie to him.

Dazai is someone who likes seeing his s/o wear his clothes, especially in a dishevelled, just-got-fucked kind of way.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya's favourite colours seem to be black and red, which isn't a surprise coming from anyone in the Port Mafia. Chuuya leans towards an edgy, femme/homme fatale style if he's choosing lingerie for his lover.

Think bustiers, garters, body harnesses, edging into bondage chic, I guess you could say. These are his tastes and you don't have to subscribe to them, but if you do he'll be shoving you into closets, back seats of cars, his personal office, the club bathroom. Pretty much anywhere he can get you alone and start ripping off buttons.

There's a certain part of your body, and anything that brings his attention to it is enough to get Chuuya raring to go.

Thighs.

Stockings are great, but those little harnesses or garters that go around your thigh get him bricked up like an 18th Century window.

If you're feeling cheeky, you can lift up the hem of a skirt or let him see the outline of it under your pants. Man is gripping the edge of the table.

"You're killin' me with these, dollface."

Edogawa Ranpo

You know those candy thongs?

Jokes aside, I feel like Ranpo doesn't buy you straight-up lingerie as much as he occasionally grabs a little costume for you. Straight-up sex is probably kinda boring, even if it feels good, so why not have some fun with roleplay?

You could be a cute little nurse and he's the world's greatest detective.

Or you're a cute little maid, and he's the world's greatest detective!

These aren't cheap costumes, though—he'll get you some nice, high quality stuff and not those itchy, shiny polyester things from Shein.

If he does buy you underwear, it has cute prints and colours. I feel like he likes stripes, pastel ones. Pinks and blues and soft yellows, because it lowkey reminds him of candy wrappers.

However, one time he did just bring you a bag from the grocery store.

"Ranpo, why is there a can of whipped cream?"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, do not send Akutagawa into a lingerie store because he will panic and he will destroy the store with Rashoumon. At first he will be highly dismissive of buying you underwear—are you not capable of buying it yourself?

Give him time to come around to the idea that he can choose what he sees on your body, the intimate garments that are going to hug your skin under your clothes, for his eyes only. Then he gets it.

Akutagawa's taste definitely runs to dark fabrics: deep burgundies, black, of course, deep purples and emerald greens if he's branching out a bit. Lace and frills, but also a touch of leather and metal. You can't take the Port Mafia out of the boy, after all.

I don't know if this is a Port Mafia-induced kink but he also likes body harnesses. The straps against your skin, especially if they're cinched a little tight against your soft flesh, remind him of when he binds you in Rashoumon and spreads you out underneath him.

This works with normal outfits too, actually. If you wear something floaty with a body harness underneath, and he sees it? Especially when you're out in public or on the job?

There's gonna be a whole different kind of screaming coming from that dark alleyway.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'm hardly original in thinking this, but Fyodor would strikes me as the type to lean toward something clean, pure. Angelic, one might say.

White is very common, especially delicate fabrics like lace and silk. Fyodor likes to get his cold hands on you, to feel you shiver at his touch, and the contrast between warm, soft skin and cool, slippery silk pleases him.

The sight of your legs sheathed in pretty white stockings, lace clinging precariously to your upper thighs—that's a temptation he struggles to resist, especially when you sit on his lap. He's a stocking man and will ensure you always have plenty in your drawer.

Little babydoll nightdresses too, usually delicate and translucent.

Oh, and blindfolds.

He also has a lovely collection of pretty silk ropes to tie you up in.

#yokohama pound #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #Edogawa Ranpo #Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Dazai x Reader #Chuuya x Reader #Ranpo x Reader #Akutagawa x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #bsd smut #I got to look at pretty pictures of lingerie for this so thanks anon

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intheorangebedroom · 4 months

Text

Tonight you belong to me, chapter 1

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town.

Guilt is a wild trip, but so is desire. How the hell did you end up in this divvy motel? And now, what's next?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, orange besties 🧡 PLEASE, see series masterlist for extensive trigger warnings. Now I'm off to disappear for another month, heehee. To anyone who celebrates anything, happy whatever you celebrate. Ily 🧡

@frannyzooey And to you, Kelli… Thank you 🧡 Thank for your help on this chapter, without you it wouldn’t exist. Arguably, without you I wouldn’t exist (my gothic ass) and without you I would certainly not be writing at all. You’re the kindest, most generous, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, you shine so brightly and I love you more than all the Frankies from all the universes put together 🧡✨

Word count: 6.5k

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Chapter 1: Dirt

Guilt, you’re about to find out, is an interesting feeling.

A viscous, gluey business that sticks to your skin and clings to your frame. It’s a prickling tickle under your armpits, a rigidity in your legs. It’s a tightness in your shoulders, and it pulls on your face. It has a density, and it’s tangible, not only do you feel it, you see it in every mirror, every reflective surface.

A pervasive, shape-shifting torment that unfurls gradually, and comes in many colorful shades, when you begin to take in the gravity and the ramifications of your actions.

The first wave is darkened by fear, black as petrol, trickling down your insides when he says his name.

Frankie.

Like an invitation, an opening. Gaping, abysmal, pulling you in and you remain silent, struggling on the edge of it, grasping for balance. Drawn in, but too stunned to let go and dive in yet.

It’s a violent crimson, next, shame creeping over you when you walk back inside the bar to retrieve your purse.

Facing Mark is difficult, but talking to him is beyond your strength. You gesture toward the handbag waiting for you on the other side of the counter. He hands it to you in appraising silence, judgmental, surely, and you smile, or you wince, you can’t even tell. With shaky hands, you fumble inside it for your wallet, his green gaze strained on your face.

You know that your entire appearance gives away the narrative of what just took place in the back lot of his establishment. Your face is flushed, your lips swollen, your hair undone. Your clothes are rumpled and in his eyes, you will from now on and forever be this woman.

After what feels like several minutes, he takes pity on you, and reiterates his offer. You’re good, he says. Sweetheart. The first pint’s on him.

You don’t stay long enough for a second drink, however.

Back outside into the muggy night, you crumble onto the passenger seat of your car. The polyester lining of your skirt clings to the bare skin at the back of your thighs, damp with sweat and what is left of your inconsequential desire, and you feel appallingly filthy, bone-deep disgusting.

Guilt washes over you in blue waves of regret, welling under your eyelids when you notice that the red truck is gone. And with it, the gaping, abysmal possibilities of another you, reinvented with him.

The shaking starts as you’re driving, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel. A brutal, chilling comedown, guilt experienced in bright and blinding yellow at the belated realization of your betrayal.

How easily, how rapidly you forgot, trapped under Frankie’s gaze, coming undone between Frankie’s hands, that your life isn’t truly yours. That it has never been. You’re not on your own, no matter how much you long to be. You have never been afforded the privilege of independence, nor do you possess the necessary strength to break free from your family.

And who has Frankie betrayed? What faceless, nameless woman has he gone back to? Remorse blends in with envy and resentment, painting green ring-shaped stains in your peripheral vision as you get out of your car and into the lobby of your building.

Eyes to the floor, you step into the elevator, this oversized coffin lined with mirrors reflecting your image with a silent scoff. There’s dust from the gravel on your leather pumps.

Inside your apartment, the clickety-click of your heels on the tiled floor bounces off the walls of your skull. You hate that sound, eminently cold and giving away your presence.

The living-room television is on, probably set to a news channel, most likely broadcasting a financial show in which white men over 50 listen to the sound of their own voice and debate about obscure economical regulations you’re supposed to care about.

Adrian’s already here. Uncharacteristically early. Friday evenings usually mean late night poker or whatever his own excuse is to get away from your cribless home.

Hoping to go unnoticed so as to avoid him, you take off your shoes, but it’s too late. He calls out your name from the kitchen, his intonation surprised but cheerful.

Head hanging low, heartbeat picking up, you make a silent dash for the upstairs bathroom, remorse so pungent you fear no shower can ever wash it off your skin.

Under the scolding high-pressure stream, you scrub your body raw with a soapless loofah, but there is no scrubbing away the feeling of those hands over your skin.

Eyes drifting closed, you lean your forehead against the anthracite marble of your Italian shower, and let your chest heave around a suppressed sob.

Guilt, shame, and remorse are powerless to outweigh your want, undeterred, unabated, unquenched.

Back in the parking lot, it had been a moment before you were able to push away from the side of the truck and stand upright. He stood there, silent and immobile in front of you. Waiting, as if to shield you from the street and the rest of the world. Silence hanging charged and heavy between you, as you wouldn’t offer your name in return.

When you started moving toward the bar’s entrance, he stepped aside, and that’s when your body moved of its own volition. You took his hand in yours, palm against palm, trembling fingers wrapped around his knuckles.

“Can I see you again?” you asked, pleaded, begged. You didn’t recognize your voice.

He swallowed hard, shook his head at you for the third time, and squeezed your hand in his bigger one.

“I don’t think so. You know that’s not a good idea,” he said.

—

Grief settles like dust over the first weeks of September.

You are surprised, almost shocked, to observe how little your life has changed. You get up in the morning, you shower and get dressed, drink coffee, go to work. You attend meetings about maritime trade regulation, sitting at your father’s side, go over endless spreadsheets detailing import-export profit and loss, you pretend to understand them, and you pretend to care, like a pretty human puppet.

You come home at night, skip dinner when you can. You lie in bed next to Adrian. You seek out warmth where there is none. You perform sex without satisfaction.

There has been no question asked. No suspicion, no doubt cast.

You wear the same clothes, drive along the same roads, walk around the same hallways.

And no one seems to notice that you are different. That you experienced imperious want and incandescent pleasure. That you carry a secret. Nestled, dormant and quiet, between your lungs, like a wild and unknown creature.

Whatever part of him you welcomed inside you transformed the hollowed spaces of your existence. It redefined the void, creating a place of your own where to curate your new desires.

His lips on your lips, your body molded into his, and pressed against your hips, an unfulfilled promise for more.

In the palm of your hand, the ghost sensation of Frankie’s hold, now forever gone and lost, and your highlighted loneliness feels like a barless prison. On your own, always, again, to divert the old familiar pain of being you.

Weeks go by. The guilt recedes, and sadness takes its place, like clockwork, like physics. Like a new sort of weight coating your limbs. A nostalgic longing without any object.

In the idle moments of your day, when you’re stuck in traffic, in a meeting, or in a conversation, your mind wanders back to him. The solid slope of his shoulders. The strong span of his back. Muscles bunching up under your grip. His scent, his curls, his taste. An organic trace seared into your being.

His rebuttal, after he’d given you so much, felt less like a rejection than like a refusal to heed a deeply rooted instinct.

His stare was no longer hard and cold. It carried only sorrow and loss.

Does he think of you like you think of him? Does he miss the contact of your skin, or the abandon of your kiss?

Did he walk away from your embrace with something to keep, like you did?

Day after day, summer fades into fall, the change hardly perceptible through the consistently sweltering weather.

Day after day, focusing becomes tricky, finding sleep more and more difficult and your train of thought turns downright maniacal.

Ava’s calls go straight to voicemail.

More often than not, you start drinking as soon as you come home to fence off the tears of exhaustion, hoping Adrian won’t notice. Another line you had promised yourself never to cross, and under the combined effects of the alcohol and the antidepressants, you feel drowsy and dizzy, increasingly disconnected from your reality. A nagging sting settles on the left side of your lower abdomen. But you don’t mind the pain as much as you mind turning into your mother.

Some days, you think you’d like nothing more than to give way, allow yourself to drown into the proven refuge of self-abuse. Whenever you indulge the thought, soothing images spring to mind, oil on canvas, deep green, tender brown. Ophelia, crowned with wild flowers and rings of violets, sleeping peacefully in a shallow stream.

When you finally return to the Hole in the Wall, it’s only with the hope of hindering your impending tailspin.

In the parking, after turning off the ignition, you sit in your car for the whole of five minutes, staring numbly at the dark lot where the red truck had been parked.

Mark’s hesitant greeting puzzles you; by now you have lost most of your ability to read people’s reactions.

You walk to the counter and choose to sit on one of the high stools. Somewhere deep down, you enjoy his distance; you relish the sadistic pleasure of reliving the humiliation you felt standing before him, freshly fucked dumb on a total stranger’s fingers.

Besides, you’ll take the attention, however uncomfortable it may be.

“Long time no see,” Mark says, and you produce a poorly executed smile.

“I don’t know… two weeks? I’ve been busy,” you add as a way of apologizing.

“It’s been a month,” he replies curtly.

You try a brown ale, this time, rich and bitter. He busies himself behind the counter, cleaning and wiping, while you drain your glass in silence. You haven’t eaten all day, and you’re drinking too fast. Nausea laps against your diaphragm. It’s the last missing scene from this scenario: you, throwing up in the toilet of his bar.

You’re considering leaving when he speaks again.

“Trucker hat dude came by.”

Your head shots up and you glare at him, eyes widening under your pinched brow, a new wave of sickness nudging further up. He gauges your face, twirling a towel inside a pint glass, waiting for your answer, but when you give him none, he goes on.

“Did he…” he starts, and his eyes slowly go back and forth between yours, “he didn’t hurt you or anything? Cause if he did, if you wanna press charges, I can—“

“No,” you cut him off, “god no, I’m fine. I’m perfectly ok,” you add unnecessarily when his gaze narrows.

He pauses for a moment, like he’s the only one who can judge if you are, indeed, perfectly ok, before he faces away from you to put back the clean glasses on the lower shelves behind him.

When he’s done, he turns back around, props his hands low on his hips, and for the first time since you’ve entered the place, he stands perfectly still.

“He’s been asking about you.”

Between your lungs, the creature begins to stir.

“He came back,” you say, surprisingly matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Asked if you come here every Friday.”

Piece by piece, your mind starts swiveling, sluggish and blunt after being successfully dulled out by the past couple of weeks of excessive drinking. You picture his tall figure standing in the small bar, perhaps he sat on the stool you’re sitting on now? Did he lift his cap to comb his hair with his fingers before he spoke?

Mark is talking again, and it’s a conscious effort to bring your attention back to his words.

“Asked if you always come on your own. If I know your name.”

“I never told you my name,” you panic, “what did you tell him?”

“I see your name every week on your AmEx Gold, sweetheart, but I kindly told him to go fuck himself,” he scoffs.

His sardonic tone snaps you out of your drifting daydreaming. Your face immediately hardens. You sit up straight, drawing further away from him and he seems to change his mind. He’s softer when he speaks next.

“Look, I don’t know what’s the lowdown between you two, you understand? And anyway, I’m not in the habit of discussing my regulars with just about anyone. That kinda goes against the job’s ethics, you know what I mean?”

You shrug away the rational, albeit patronizing explanation with a huff of annoyance. You feel more alert than you have in weeks.

“When was that?” you ask.

“Last week. Thursday, I think.”

“Shit.”

Mark lets out a heavy sigh, resembling that of an exhausted father, and he opens the cash register.

“He left a note for you.”

—

An address. Written in all caps, black ink on a white piece of paper torn from a lined notebook. No phone number, not date, no time… and no name. Just the address. Under the feeble cabin light of your car, the paper looks old, like it’s been carried around tucked inside a wallet for years, and time has turned it yellow.

The coordinates on the dashboard GPS are identical to the ones on the paper. They were identical back in the parking, at the bar, when you typed them in; they were identical at every single red light you stopped at and checked. And they’re still identical now, glowing in blue letters, cold and synthetic, above the message You have reached your destination.

You raise your head again and stare at the building in front of you.

It’s a motel. One floor, L shaped, slightly sloping roof. With wrought iron details, a porch hanging low and square wooden pillars demarcating each room, nine of them in total. On the right, underneath a bare bulb, a large ice machine gleams like a beacon for lost time-travelers, next to a pay phone with a cut-off cord and a missing receiver. On the rear end of the building, to the left, above what looks like the reception, a 4 feet tall sign spells MOTEL in red neon letters.

At its height, the place probably looked nice. But that was a rough 55, 60 years ago, you estimate. Now it’s nearly derelict, with visible cracks streaking the yellowing walls, several broken drainpipes, and a missing number on the door of room 7.

If you cared about these kinds of things, you’d figure that the diversion of the main road further south is responsible for the motel’s decaying state.

Your attention is elsewhere, as usual. The parking lot is deserted, save for three vehicles. The red truck is here, parked a couple of places away to your right. Engine off. Empty.

The drive here from the Hall in the Wall was nearly an hour long. The car cruised along poorly lit, narrow two-lane roads, lined with luxuriant vegetation, dense and confining in the pitch darkness of the suburban night. You’ve lived in Tampa your entire life and have never set a foot in this part of the Bay Area. Technically, you’re not even in Tampa anymore.

He’s inside one of these rooms, somewhere. Waiting for you, and that thought alone makes your breathing difficult and your hands clammy.

What now? What’s next? Are you supposed to walk up to the reception and ask about him? A tall man wearing a trucker hat? Frankie?

And what will happen, once you’ve found him?

This is ridiculous. Sordid. It’s gone too far, whatever that is. A motel outside of town. The worst possible cliché. The most degrading place.

Between your lungs, the creature is clawing at your chest.

You shift nervously on the creaking leather seat, exhaling long and shaky, no longer repressing the memory of his sturdy fingers curling inside your warmth, of his tongue swirling inside your mouth. The instant intimacy of your furtive encounter, that turning point, when he briefly relinquished his control.

A chorus of voices rumbles like tumbling boulders inside your head, a cacophony of rules and guidelines, tacit and unspoken, ingrained and internalized. But with every passing minute staring at the bright motel sign, your resolve grows surer.

The yellow curtains ripple behind the rectangular window of room number 2 and you quickly pull the key out of the ignition. Grabbing your phone from the dashboard, you stuff it inside your purse, which you slide under the driver's seat.

Eyes locked on the curtains, you make a fast-paced beeline to the door. Around you, the night is bustling with the sounds and noises of the invisible wildlife. Revealing nothing, containing so much.

With a quick rattle of your heels, you step under the porch, hand extended and ready to knock on the door when it opens for you.

Oh he’s broad, so much broader than you even remembered, blocking the entire doorway with his frame, blue jeans, black shirt, and this goddamn hat that’s already haunting your dreams and your nightmares.

Looking down on you, irate, defiant, daring you to push him aside and enter. Behind him, the room is plunged in darkness. Above you, the porch lights cast a warm hue on his face, that fails to soften his expression. The crease between his brow is deeper than your fears.

You take a step closer, on instinct, but he moves to the side as if to avoid any contact with you and you enter the dark bedroom, carried by your momentum.

Guilt will come back to you later, sporadically, in episodes, but for the most part, you forfeit it wholly when you cross the threshold of room number 2.

He closes the door behind you and flicks up the toggle switch near the door frame. Two quaint lampshades blink to life on the headboard, casting a warm, subdued light. There’s no AC, or he hasn’t turned it on, and the atmosphere inside the room is already stifling, charged with his scent.

“Took you long enough. Thought you wanted to see me,” he grunts, and the creature purrs inside your chest.

“I did. I do.”

Stopping in the middle of the room, you turn around to face him. He’s standing tall and firm and mighty, feet planted apart on the carpeted floor, arms crossed over his chest. Yet you note his hands are splayed across his biceps, as if he were attempting to hug himself.

Perhaps that’s when you convince yourself Frankie is not his real name. Somehow, it makes it easier to believe you’re not the object of his ire.

“Your friend didn’t tell you–”

“He’s not my friend,” you interrupt. “I only got your note earlier. Tonight.”

You let the implication sink in and your gaze travels down to the dip at the base of his neck and back up. The square, yellow bedroom provides you with the brightest environment you’ve ever had the leisure of observing him in.

He’s beautiful, stunning, really, with unique and complex features. Almost pretty, but in a reluctant way, as if it was irrelevant to the life he’s chosen and led. His face speaks so loud, washed over by so many emotions, frustration, doubt and anger, and that lingering sadness in his dark eyes that tugs at your heart and twitches your fingers.

“What’s your name?” he asks, tilting his chin in your direction.

Janet Leigh’s face pops up in black and white inside your mind, driving through a curtain of strident violins, skittish eyes flicking between the road ahead of her and the rearview mirror.

“Marion,” you answer, inexplicably.

“Marion,” he repeats, and you know he knows you’re lying.

Unable to hold his gaze, you look away to the side, and he gives you time to take in the surroundings. The medium size bed with a stained, synthetic bedspread, the practical, shipped furniture, an angular chair and a desk surmounted by a rectangular framed mirror, the antique cathodic TV set hanging from the wall in the corner. The brown carpet. The yellow curtains. The painting of the Appalachian.

And whatever your face says then makes him huff.

“Not what you expected? How did you think this was gonna be? How do you think these things go?”

You look at him again, stunned, lost, hurt maybe, that he should recognize you for what you don’t want to be.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before,” you tell him in a small voice.

He shakes his head, like you aimed to wound, and unconsciously, your fingers find your sternum, jittery, anxious to appease this wild creature scrabbling against your rib cage.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mutters hoarsely, shaking his head again, or still, “and you shouldn’t be here either, this is bullshit.”

And he’s right, once more, he is right, neither of you should be here. All the lines you walked, all the rules you abided by, meeting expectations and doing as you were told, and you still end up here, on the outskirts of town, in this gloomy motel. Facing this stranger, begging to surrender to him, with your heart in your hand and your life on your lips.

Eyes strained on his, you move closer, cautious, with your palms upward, as if he were to jolt and scurry away if you were too sudden. If you tame him, perhaps you will tame the wild creature between your lungs as well.

Drawn to his skin, you brush the tips of your fingers along his bicep, and the taut muscle thrums under the freckled, tanned surface of him.

He’s holding his breath, hardened face, hardened stare, deepening crease, and your fingers skate up along the slope of his arm until they meet his hand.

He’s difficult to catch, you think, even when willing to be caught, but it’s now very clear what you want for yourself. You want him.

It matters not that he belongs to somebody else. If you’re here, it’s because he wants you too. Despair and desire have brought you together, combined, conjoined, converging.

Your hand travels round to the back of his arm, soft and feather-like, up under the hem of his t-shirt, lifting his sleeve. His eyes are boring into yours. You lick your lips, slowly, and lower them to his skin. A light kiss, testing, tender and wet, and underneath it, a tremor.

There’s a terrible density to his body. He’s tension and heat. Pressing your parted lips to his shoulder, you let your tongue peek out between them. You take in the tangy taste of him, it travels through your body like lava, like syrup, heavy and sticky and sweet and it pools down between your hips.

He’s completely still, eerily so. Emboldened, hopeful, you tug on his t-shirt, tentatively at first, and when he doesn’t stop you, when he unfolds his arms, you pull it off his frame, the hat coming off with it. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his naked head full of curls, lush and tousled. You want to run your fingers through them. You know that’s probably not a good idea.

His chest, broad and solid, fills your vision, and your hands fly to his sternum where you press them, chasing something invisible, roaming up the plane of his chest, as delicately as possible. Your fingertips drum lightly along his collarbone, as if you were seeing him with your hands, as if all your senses were necessary to take in the whole of him.

His frown turns imploring, his breathing shallow.

“Tell me your name,” he murmurs, his deep baritone a pleading husk.

“You can call me whatever you like,” you answer, lifting his hand and taking his two first fingers into your mouth, eyelids fluttering. You cradle them with the flat of your tongue, brushing against the callous tips of them, saliva flooding your mouth around the salty taste. A moan escapes you, imperceptible, and his jaw ticks around a curse, something you don’t make out, something in Spanish, you’re too dazed with want, too dumb with thirst.

Fire licks up your spine when he moves, fast and sure. His hand tangles in your hair and he sharply tugs your head back, his fingers popping out of your mouth with a hanging thread of saliva. His face has become a threat, a warning, a promise. He’ll give you what you want until you regret asking for it.

His mouth crushes yours, teeth colliding, and his tongue is inside you, swirling and licking.

Like a dam that gives, his strength breaks and sweeps over you, crushing you into his chest with his hold and his kiss, fingers gripping your hair, your ass, and you let him have it, let him bruise your flesh with his need, scraping your fingernails up his arms, on his back.

You’re smiling into the kiss, with relief and eagerness, squirming into him and he hardens his hold before releasing you, swift and sudden, grabbing your blouse and pulling it up in a feverish movement that you follow, lifting your arms like a docile little girl. A seam of the silky fabric rips around your shoulders. You don’t notice it.

His face dives into the crook of your neck, the scruff of his beard grating your skin, and he sinks in his teeth, sucking hard and feral, and at first, you melt into it, before you remember. You force his chest away with both palms, whining, urgent, plaintive, “I can’t– can’t have marks,” when what you really want is to be covered in him.

It makes him chuckle, and it sounds like a growl, so terribly dark, so profoundly disillusioned, that you shiver in the heat of his body. He squeezes your breasts through the thin cotton of your bra, it’s brutal and it hurts like retaliation.

“Get fucking naked, Marion.”

Drawing away from him, you start working the button and zip fly of your skirt with fumbling fingers, blood beating fast and booming in your eardrums, while he toes off his shoes and undoes his belt buckle. Hard metal, the same one that was scraping against your belly when he was crushing you into his red truck, into white-hot pleasure.

His skin looks amber and smooth under the mellow lighting, the harmonious muscles you guessed under his shirt on the very first night highlighted in shadows. A soft belly, and a long, sideways scar on his left side. Would he tell you the history of his wounds? Will you ever have the chance to ask?

Your skirt crumples at your feet, you’re lost in the sight of him, arms falling limp at your sides. Self-consciousness skirts the edges of your lust. This body that you neglect and ignore at best, despise and mistreat if given the chance, will it be worth anything to him? Will he want you like you want him? With determination. Without dignity.

When he pulls down his jeans and his boxer briefs in one deft motion, your eyes widen, but he’s grabbing your arm already, spinning you around like a doll and throwing you onto the bedspread. He climbs on the bed after you, the mattress dips with his weight.

His firm hands spread your legs; he’s manhandled other bodies before yours, the skill evident with his dexterity, the experience obvious in his assurance, and you want to be all of them at once, lovers and enemies.

His hand rubs over your damp panties and you buck into it, trying to raise yourself on your elbows to turn around. You want to see his face as he touches you, see his reaction at the evidence of your arousal, you want to watch his eyes when his cock breaches you, but he presses a large hand between your shoulder blades and pins you into the mattress with a grunt.

He’s unlike anyone you’ve known before, brisk and rough and domineering, and you blush at your inexperience, at his irreverence, when he yanks your panties to the side and spits on your folds. The sheer obscenity feels like a reward for coming this far.

Sprawling your arms forward, bunching the slippery fabric of the bedspread in your fists, you brace yourself, the round tip of his cock lining up at your entrance.

He shoves himself inside you to the base, and you cry out at the blinding intrusion, the strength of his thrust hauling your body forward on the bed. With a harsh grasp, he slides you back down on his length and you bite down another cry, flesh gushing through the splayed fingers clutching your hips.

Crouching over you, he presses his forehead heavy against the back of your head.

“Don’t move,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “don’t fucking move.”

His cock pulsates angry and swollen inside your throbbing pussy, his chest pressing down on your back with each uneven, shaky breath burning your nape.

Sitting back, he wraps his right hand around the strap of your bra and twists it around his fist, pulling on it for leverage as he begins to fuck into you. The thin elastic bands bite into your shoulders, raspy vibrations echoing from your throat straight into the bedding with each of his rhythmic pushes forward.

He’s too much, too fast, too sudden. And he picks up the pace, forcing your right leg up with his knee and angling up his strokes, reaching deeper inside your core. He’s going to puncture your body from the inside, and you contract tight and rigid around his length, writhing underneath him, until he leans into your neck, close to your ear with a command, voice low and gravelly.

“You want it, just fucking take it, then.”

That wild thing inside your chest is swelling, madly swirling, your slick floods around his drilling length. Closing your eyes, the side of your face smearing makeup on the bedspread, you nod with just enough strength to exhale a breathless yes.

Yes. Yes, you want it, just like so. You want to be used, shattered, obliterated by this man.

And so you relent. Curling your fists and sinking your fingernails into your palms, as the pain turns to pleasure and he rams into your taut heat, rams against your cervix, bending you backward, spine ready to snap with each forceful shove.

The room is filled with the explicit sounds and noises of your emerging dirty secret. The relentless smack of his hips against your ass, the lewd squelch of his cock slamming in and out of your cunt, the creaking bedding, his feral groans, your grateful moans.

He’s miles away from you, but that’s what you came here for, drain the sadness from his eyes, make it yours, understand. If you’re only going to have him once, then you want it all.

But his rhythm is faltering already, and it stops abruptly. He releases his grip on you and pulls out with a loud curse, leaving you empty, for all those things you never wanted in the first place to fill you up again.

You feel his knuckles brushing against the swell of your ass as he strokes himself into his release. He loses his balance, and braces his hand next to your face to catch himself as come spurts hot and rich into the curve of your arched back.

He slaps his cock into the cleft of your cheeks once, twice, pumping out the last drops of his spend, and he collapses next to you, with a grunt when his back hits the bed, his chest heaving with exertion.

Unshed tears weigh down your eyelids. Your heart rattles against your rib cage, frantic and irregular. Your blood is thick as molasses, of amber and gold, coursing dense and languid down your limbs, but your nerves are crackling like electrical wires of blue and purple.

The creature between your lungs has tripled in size and your sore cunt throbs with your suspended orgasm.

Sunk into the mattress, you’re unable to round your back or turn your head towards him. Everything hurts. Everything is alive.

Reaching back blindly, you dip the tip of your fingers into the pool of his spend, and bring them back to your lips. Tasting him with delight and a quiet, strengthless moan.

The mattress moves with him as he shifts on the bed, and you feel the warmth of his large hand covering the expanse of your lower back.

Before you can relax into it, he flips you on your back with an easy strength, and you wince with the sudden change of position. What a mess you must look like, flushed face, sweat-damp hair, clotted mascara.

He’s heavy, in his straddle of your thighs. He brings his hand to your mouth, and you open up for him, pulling out your tongue to lick his come-coated palm, wrapping your lips around his fingers as they glide over the hot wet muscle. You swallow his essence with fluttering eyelids, grateful, tears rolling down your temples.

The soft light catches at the sheen of sweat gleaming over his chest, like he’s made of gold, leaning over you like a magnificent and merciful god, like you’ll grant him everything, and you bask into his radiance, your lips pursed into a new smile around his digits.

The frown that hasn’t left his brow softens ever so slightly. His throat bobs, corded muscles, pebbled skin, the tension barely relieved. His fingers slip out of your mouth and come to cup your chin, so gentle your mind fails to comprehend. His touch lingers, warm and relenting and it becomes a caress, trailing down the line of your throat and coming to rest over your beating pulse at the base of your neck.

“Are you real?” he asks, sorrow blurring his dark eyes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, beading sweat, beading tears. “Make me be.”

He breathes in deeply, and perhaps it’s the first time in years he breathes in so freely.

“Okay,” he nods.

Slowly, with the tip of his tongue darting between his parted lips, he tugs down your bra to the side. His calloused palm finds the soft swell of your breast, and his warmth radiates through your skin. His hold strengthens, he pinches your nipples with his two first fingers, the ones you took in your mouth earlier, harder, until your mouth goes slack with pleasure and with pain, and you keep smiling at him through it all.

Loose, trustful, pliant, you watch as he drags your panties down along your damp skin and spreads your thighs. He pauses, eyes on your core and you lie still, exposed and opened, feeling no shame.

His curls, matted with sweat, are stuck in locks to his forehead. Where was he, when you were still hopeful? Were you too young for him, then?

He dives between your hips, and his teeth bite into the soft skin of your inner thigh. You jerk, palm pushing feebly onto the crown of his head and he freezes, eyes shut, like he doesn’t have enough willpower to let go, like too much of his control has already waned and thawed.

“Please,” you coo, “please. I’ll get in so much trouble.”

And your heart sinks a little with apprehension because, surely, he’ll scoff at you again, but instead he just lets go, bringing his fingers to your swollen folds to part them.

A small whimpering sound escapes you when he latches his lips around your clit, but the sensation is nothing like what you anticipated. Of his previous roughness, only the bruising digging of his fingers into the plush of your hips remains.

His mouth is warm and soothing, a liquid caress, the touch from the tip of his tongue precise but gentle. He shifts with a soft groan, applying more pressure and you keen, head trashed back into the bed. Instantly, he adjusts his grasp, pulling you closer to his face, suckling on your clit with more insistence.

The smooth skin of your calves brushes over his shoulders, your heels digging into the muscles of his back and you’re reminded of that first night again, when he swiveled around to meet your gaze, soft sad eyes, hard cold stare. Your orgasm builds up fast, embarrassingly so, encouraged by his heavy breathing fanning the soft curls on your mound.

The wild creature melts into your blood and flows down to your core, branching out to every nerve from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. And when you come, you come sharp and bright, with your hand clasped over your mouth to muffle a loud mewl and your back arched from the bed.

He forsakes his restored restraint when you recoil from the overstimulation, hardening his hold and fastening his mouth over your cunt to lap up your release, tongue diving in, greedy, burning your walls.

You’re still shaking with the aftershock when he releases you and rises above your trembling body. Lying his forehead on your belly, heavy head, heavy breathing, sweat dripping on your skin, he stays there until his breathing slows down, falling in rhythm with yours. You reach down for his hair, threading your fingers through his curls, at last, and he gives in, leans into the tenderness of your touch.

A stray tear slides down into your hairline and it’s over, he’s gone, standing up, his broad back turned to you, gathering his clothes and dressing up.

The notion of the world around you resurfaces. Outside, tucked away in the heart of the night, countless other wild creatures dwell and carry on, moved by fear or desire, and you lie still in that crushing knowledge. Soon, you will have to leave this bed, confront your solitude to theirs.

You roll to your side and curl up on yourself, drifting with the soft droning from the sleeping creature between your lungs and the sweet soreness thrumming between your hips.

He’s at the door, putting his hat back on, when you call out his name.

“Frankie.”

It passes your lips for the very first time, a long kept secret, a forbidden vow, a usurped oath, and immediately you want to say it again. You want it to be real. You want it to be yours.

Frankie pauses and tilts his head towards the bed without facing you completely.

“Thank you,” you say.

He opens the door to a draft of air wafting in, charged with the salty, humid scent of the faraway bay. He’s about to cross the threshold, and disappear into the night, when he speaks.

“The room is paid for til morning. I’ll see you next Friday.”

****

Additional note: I woke up on day and decided to build a multiverse of orange bedroom Frankies 🧡 For those who've read PTMY, can you spot all the clues? This Frankie is really pissed off, though, but I kinda like it. I hope you'll like it too 🧡

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @your-voice-is-mellifluous @mylostloversbookmarks @readingiskeepingmegoing @lovesbiggerthanpride @youandmeand5bucks-blog @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @southernbe @blackvelveteen1339 @anoverwhelmingdin @casa-boiardi @nandan11 @jessthebaker @pedroshotwifey @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @noisynightmarepoetry

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just-jordie-things · 10 months

Note

Hiii love it's me again your writing only keeps getting better I am amazed sooo love can we get a 67 and a 69 with Megumi since we love the spicee 🥰🥰🥰

67: when one stops the kiss to whisper "i'm sorry, are you sure you-" and they answer by kissing them more 69: following a kiss with a series of kisses down the neck

**aged up characters!!**

a/n: pining besties that finally give in is the best kind of spiceee ___

"god, what i would give to get kissed like that"

you say it so easily, probably not even thinking twice about it as you tear a gummy worm in half between your teeth. megumi tears his eyes away from the small television that was currently displaying a rather steamy make out session. the scene had escalated quickly as the main protagonists finally confessed their feelings and in the same breath began to devour each other.

megumi knows he should just laugh off the comment, or ignore it completely, like you apparently had, going right back into your snack while you watched the movie.

but he can't help but suddenly realize that you're both here, cramped together on his small bed that was barely big enough for his tall frame so he has one leg hanging off the mattress while you're half under his arm, half propped up by the headboard. you're alone, yuuji was off with nanami and nobara was bothering maki-

and you're alone.

you make this little comment with a small sigh, your eyes longingly watching the screen as you hold a gummy worm between your teeth by the green side, the red side held between your fingers, tugging on the gelatin snack absentmindedly. you're clearly infatuated, and now that megumi's peeking down at you more closely, something warm floods his chest.

you're in a hoodie too ridiculously large to be yours- it isn't, it's his, you stole it last week and he had to pretend not to notice when you wore it today- and it's so long on your frame that it's covering the little sleep shorts that you also seemed to wear without a second thought. not that megumi would complain about something like that, having your bare leg pressed up against his while you're lounging together in his bed is... nice

really nice.

nice enough that the last few times you've hung out in his room to watch a movie or scroll aimlessly on your phone while he reads, his mind had been wandering. and it was probably due to those damn shorts.

and was he really going to be the kind of the guy that lost his mind over some skin showing? was that really fair to you? you- who was so much more than a pretty face? you were quick witted, especially in battle, which made you strong and so, so capable. you were funny, which made you fun to be around, and was part of the reason why megumi had started seeking you out to spend time together in the first place. he liked hearing your little quips and teases, even when they were directed at him. yeah, you were pretty, you were drop dead fucking gorgeous actually, one of the prettiest people megumi had ever laid eyes on.

but you were more than beautiful and sometimes megumi felt like a bad friend for losing his mind over some shorts that revealed a delicious amount of your thighs.

today was different.

today it wasn't just the shorts. well, the shorts were definitely a factor, especially when his arm rested between the both of you and the back of his knuckles just barely grazed over your leg. no, it wasn't just that. it was the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, enveloping you like a blanket. you seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, with your fingers just barely peeking out of the sleeves so you could enjoy your snack, and the hood was even half-up. it had been fully up when you first made your way to his room, but after relaxing on the bed for long enough it had started to slip off.

and then it was this comment. that dumb, thoughtless little comment you threw out there about kissing that spun his mind into thinking about kissing and now megumi's feeling hot. the bed feels smaller. the room feels darker. and you look so, so beautiful right now that he thinks this could be a delusion and he's going to blink and be surrounded by padded walls.

he blinks at you. you're still there, eyes watching every sensual movement made by the lust driven characters on the tv. you've still got the gummy worm between your teeth, likely forgotten as you got lost in your own thoughts, presumably also about kissing, and megumi clears his throat.

"if you ask nicely, i'd do it for a gummy worm"

it's half a joke, at least he means it to be as he reaches for the bag in your other hand. your eyes are on him right away, an amused smirk tugging at your lips in your surprise, but you find yourself tilting the bag of worms towards him so he could help himself to one. he plucks out a yellow and orange one, keeping it in his hold while he looks at you, clearly waiting.

"you'll make out with me for a gummy worm?" you ask, a small laugh escaping you, but you can't tell if he's joking, so you shut up quickly as your heart beat races up into your throat.

perhaps you get too eager too quick. your eyes widen and you're biting down on your cheek to keep from grinning, but the idea of kissing megumi has your head feeling twirly and reason drifting away at an alarming rate.

you've always sorta wondered if these one-on-one movie nights in his bed would ever lead anywhere. you were too anxious yourself to initiate anything, but you weren't stupid. he always closed the door behind you when you arrived, and being alone, on a bed, just the two of you, well, that was just so easy wasn't it? the thought had crossed your mind more than once, often when you felt his eyes on you when he thought you wouldn't notice, or when he pulled you closer to him so 'you wouldn't fall off the mattress'. but it had always been a brief little daydream that you brushed off.

this was as close to the real thing as you've ever gotten.

"you drive a hard bargain," you mumble, finally ripping your worm in half to eat the strawberry flavored gummy. megumi chuckles as you finish the other half. "what's the catch?"

"catch?" he repeats.

he turns to face you better, laying on his side, completely ignoring the movie. you swallow the lump in your throat as he rests his elbow on the pile of pillows behind you both, leaning his head into his hand.

"yeah," you nod. "you're messing with me?" you question skeptically. "you have a bet with nobara?"

this time when he chuckles, he smiles, his teeth flashing with delighted amusement. he'd given you a pretty straightforward offer, and here you were pressing for more details.

"not messin' with you," he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

at first you start to pull away, but you pause just as quickly as your eyes flicker down to his lips, which are a mere few inches away from yours now. you don't notice that he drops his gummy worm back into the bag before he pulls it out of your hand, dropping it on the night stand behind him without even looking.

as soon as the candy is no longer an obstacle, it's like you've become the most powerful magnet in the world.

his hand wraps around the nape of your neck, the hood on your head falling the rest of the way as he pulls you forward and slants his lips over yours. they're soft, and a little sticky from the candy, but they're so, so sweet that he can't help himself. he kisses you again and again and again, getting lost in the way your lips lock against his with eagerness.

he kisses you fast, like you're on borrowed time, like he's insatiable. you're both heaving between kisses, panting through your noses as you rush to explore the new sensation, again and again and again. it's not until he realizes his hand is traveling with a mind of it's own towards the inviting skin of your bare leg that megumi's snapping out of his dazed state, and pulling away from you with hooded eyes.

he's still trying to catch his breath, his lips are already swollen and his pupils are blown wide as he looks at you, and you give him a lazy smile as you admire his pretty features. you like this look on him, you realize. you'd like to make him look like this all the time.

"i'm sorry," he breathes, eyes flickering between yours. "are you sure you-"

before he can ask his silly question, you're grabbing him by the collar of his tee shirt and yanking him forward, crashing your lips into his again with fervor, as if you couldn't possibly wait another second.

your lips are soft, and he could've easily mistaken you for gentle if your hands weren't wandering into his hair and beginning to tug. not that the feeling bothered him- not in a bad way anyway. he's quite responsive to it, humming into your mouth and finally sinking his fingers into the plush of your thigh.

he pulls you closer with ease, swiftly pressing you close to him, while you get lost in a series of hurried kisses. your touch grows more tender as you release your hold on his messy locks of hair. they wander down his neck, along his shoulders and then sliding back together over his collarbones, your movements slow as you explore the hard planes of lean muscle down his chest.

he's only just pulled you into him, but now he's pushing you back. his movements are smooth, trying not to be too rough on you, but the urge to push you into the sheets and climb overtop of you outweighs the repercussions of what was going to come of the two of you once you'd satiated this desire.

consequences are far from your mind as you happily get comfortable on your back, your lips not leaving his for even a second. oxygen was overrated. you could breathe through your nose. well, you could when megumi wasn't pushing so close to you that your nose smushed into his cheek, but you quite enjoyed the messy kisses, so you wouldn't dare complain.

his breath his hot as his mouth begins to work it's way aways from yours. you finally gasp for the precious air, or maybe you're just winded as soft lips trace down your chin and across your jaw.

your hands are back in his hair, carding through and getting lost in dark tresses. when his trail of kisses begins to make it's way towards your neck, you're craning your head back on instinct, giving him all the access he wanted. you can feel his lips curl into a smile over the sensitive skin of your throat.

your fingers tighten in his hair as his wet mouth hungrily peppers sweet kisses across the expanse of skin you'd so willingly displayed for him. his name falls from your mouth in a small, shy whisper, but there's nothing bashful about the way your legs hike up around his hips, drawing him even closer to you.

the hand that isn't bracing himself next to your head is quick to reach down and grab onto your leg, pulling it up further until you've properly locked it over his hip. his fingers dig roughly into your heated skin, before smoothing over the spot in soothing caresses. he touches everywhere he can reach, just as his lips are kissing everywhere they can reach. he's getting ahead of himself, the room is getting hotter and your soft pants are turning into whimpers and moans and he should really slow it down before he can't turn back.

your friendship could still come back from this, couldn't it?

as if answering his unspoken question, you're pulling his hair until he lifts his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your neck. he catches sight of a blossoming red and purple mark in the shape of his mouth before you're guiding his face towards yours.

you're eyes are gleaming with excitement, and your lazy little smile turns into a full grin when you finally meet his gaze. you give him a chaste kiss before you whisper to him with enthusiasm.

"take off your shirt"

so your friendship probably couldn't come back from this, but it was definitely headed in a much better direction. ___

a/n: i know ppl complain about there being too much jjk smut and i know a lot of ppl have followed me for my writing bcuz i don't write smut but. damn. not for a lack of trying. i wish i was good at writing smut. this could've been so much better >:/ enjoy the cliffhanger ig

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi brainrot #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi scenario #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Note

Bestie your slut is immaculate 🤌🏻. Would you maybe be able to write a makeup sex scenario with Steve???? I’d give everything for that

18+

Honestly, you couldn’t remember what you and Steve had been arguing about. You don’t recall how it had started, or how it had even ended, just that you were pouting in the kitchen whilst the boy was stomping about upstairs.

You think it had been something to do with his late shifts, your early mornings, ships passing in the night, gone before he woke up, asleep before he got home. You’d missed him. He’d missed you. But communicating that got lost in the stress of a burnt dinner and a laundry load of whites that got mixed in with one of Steve’s green socks and suddenly everything was turquoise, smoke filled the kitchen and you were both yelling.

It ended abruptly, sharply and with a slammed door. You weren’t sure who’d done it, but maybe, you thought with a scrunch of your nose, it had been you. Guilt ate at your stomach, turned over in your tummy like acid and suddenly you missed Steve more than ever. You hadn’t even gotten a kiss hello from him before the argument erupted.

So you trailed up the stairs, stepping lightly so you could hear the soft grumbles from behind the closed bedroom door, and when you opened it, you softened completely. Steve was folding laundry on the bed, as neatly as he could, brow furrowed and cheeks still flushed.

His eyes snapped to you, that knot between his brows soothing away when he saw the downturn of your lips, the glassy sheen to your eyes. Still, he sighed, tired. “Babe, I don’t wanna fight, alright? Can we talk about it in the morning?”

It wasn’t unkind, the way he said it, just frustrated, calm enough to understand that yelling wasn’t going to help this time. You nodded, walking into the room so you could perch yourself on the desk that served as half of your vanity, half of Steve’s workspace. You toed off your fluffy socks, the ones with mini cows printed on them.

Steve was watching you, a little confused, a little on edge.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you told him. “Not now, not in the morning.”

The boy raised his brows, waiting for the hook, like this was a trick. “We don’t?” He murmured, voice full of doubt.

You shook your head, hands grabbing the hem of your shirt, throwing it to the floor. Your pyjama shorts left little to the imagination.

Steve’s gaze darkened, pupils blown wide at all the bare skin, lips parting and you heard the quiet sigh that left his mouth, the hitch in his breath that never got old.

“No,” you agreed, voice soft. “We can just fuck instead, yeah?”

He was on you without missing a second, zero hesitation as he abandoned his stack of folded shirts and pushed himself between your legs. Steve kissed you without any warm up, his lips a familiar press against your own and you’d shared enough kisses with the boy to know how this worked. You sighed, overwhelmingly happy to feel him against you and you parted your lips for him without a second thought.

Tongues pressing over tongues, teeth clashing, hot and needy and desperate. There was no warm up, none required after your argument left you both tinged with longing and guilt, just enough leftover frustration for you to grab a little meanly at the other. Your hands fisted Steve’s hair, earning you a rough groan that you swallowed and kept for yourself.

Steve’s palms roamed your body, never settled enough, always seeking more, grabbing at your waist, your tits, pulling you closer by your hips before cradling your jaw, titling you the way he wanted so he could kiss you deeper still. And then, his fingers coasted down, skimming across the curve of your stomach, all warm skin and calloused touches, pulling at the waistband of your shorts until he could swipe through your folds and grunt at how wet you were.

“How’d you want me?” Steve panted it into your mouth, a kiss that wasn’t a kiss, lips barely moving but not daring to part.

“Like this,” you told him, just a breathy, just as desperate. “Now, baby, need you now.”

You curled your legs around his hips, thighs gripping him, heels pressed to his ass to encourage him closer. He moaned at your impatience, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt so he could rip it off and launch it at the clean pile on the bed. Together, you made quick work of his belt, buttons popping, leather snapping, denim pushed down just enough to free his hard cock from his boxers, red and leaking at the tip for you. It made you whine, hand grabbing at the length of it while Steve pumped one, then two fingers into you. They hooked into the spot you loved real quick, running little circles and making you gasp out, pulling at the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve groaned, mouthing over your throat, teeth nipping, wanting you left lilac and rose for him, all marked up as his own. “Spread your legs for me, c’mere baby…”

He slid into you like that, faster than he normally would, pausing when he was fully seated inside of you to let you adjust and catch your breath. Your forehead was against his, his chin ducked down to meet you, lips swollen and red from your kisses, cheeks the same pretty colour.

“Fuck, Steve, please.”

A snap of his hips, a little mean, all pent up frustration and too many nights of missing you. Another, harder still, deeper than before, his hands hooked under your thighs to keep you open for him. He kissed you sweet though, smiling into it when you nudged your nose against his own and whined, seeking out his mouth, pouting, needy, already fucking putty for him.

“M’sorry, baby, my sweet girl,” he murmured. “So good for me, aren’t you? Fuck, don’t wanna fight, I’m sorry—”

You tried to say sorry back, you really did. But Steve found it more amusing to fuck you into the wall, grinning each time your apology got stuck in your throat and high mewl came out intead. And that was okay, he could tell by your glassy eyes and the way you clung to him that you were sorry too. And if you had to wake him up in the morning to apologise again?

Well, that was okay too.

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve baby blurb

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the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

Revocation

MDNI/18+

Had a prompt from my darling bestie @gemmahale who asked about the 141 and how they might react when you revoked your consent for whatever reason. So, I thought I would do one of these little stacky-stacks for the first time to try it out. Don't be mean to me! This is my first time doing this Tumblr list thing. Idek what it's called.

GAZ

Gaz loves to fuck you with a slow, steady beat. His go-to is keeping you wedged tightly underneath him in a prone position so his length can enjoy the thickness of your ass and thighs. But, all it takes is a sudden sharp breath from you and he pauses, stopping his long rod right where it sits to wait and listen for your protests. "Babe? Everything alright?" He slowly slides out of you the rest of the way, your plump lips kissing the tip of his cockhead gently as he leaves you. Curling himself beside you, he'd be so soft and sure to check on your body and your feelings before letting you get back up to speed. Gaz would pet a huge hand down your back, rubbing your skin and making certain you knew he was there to help you feel good.

SOAP

Soap was adamant about having a light system. He would lean next to your ear and ask you to check in with him. "How are you, bonnie? Still green?" And if you said green, he would sigh, keeping up his pace, grunting with enthusiastic pleasure. If you said yellow, he would pause and wait, since you usually elaborated, and he would change whatever tune he needed to for you. Slower? He could fuck you achingly slow. Making sure you felt every inch of his delicious upward curve, and that lusciously thick head of his. If you said red, though, he would go full hands off and turn into aftercare mode real quick. Water, towels, juice, blankets at the ready, eager to give you what you needed to feel like yourself again.

GHOST

Ghost never lets it get to yellow. Never. He couldn't. Every single moment he's watching you like a hawk, noticing your pleasure, listening for your moans to deepen or to lower just enough to tell him you're close to coming. If you move into a position you don't like, he can feel your tension ripple across his cock, and he fixes it immediately, knowing when your breathing quickens or slows how far along you are to riding another wave of pleasure. You're so reactive, and he loves it. He gets off on knowing just the slightest pressure will send you over the edge. And when you come, it is like a maestro at the crest of his symphony, every note in exactly the place where he wants it, feeling you flutter and pulse around him in a perfect little harmony.

Except for that one time when there was a moth. Then, he was immediately on moth duty, full stop and fully naked. But, he was more than happy to cuddle with you after it was safely dispatched.

PRICE

The thing about Price is that he never fuckin' shuts up. The whole time he's kissing you, licking you, biting you. He's talking to you. The whole damn time.

"Yeah, love? You like that?"

"Want more, yeah? Fuck yeah, I'll give you more."

"Tha's it, love. Tha's my good girl. Come for me, just like that. Make those noises, love."

"You alright, love? Need a moment? Let me hold you. C'mere."

"Fuck, you are feeling so good. So pretty. Tell me how I feel, baby. Go on, tell me."

And so the whole time he fucks you, you are gasping in breaths, telling Price everything he wants to know. He wants to know how it feels, how it sounds, if its warm, if its hard, if you can feel the way he throbs inside of you when he comes. He wants every single juicy detail, and he pulls it from you with his hungry coaxing.

So, when you got a leg cramp, he talked you through it, pulling his fat cock from you with a long, wet pop, helping you get into a better position before he applied pressure to the spot, working out your muscle, easing your pain, talking you through the whole thing...

"Tha's it, good girl. Such a good fuckin' girl. Doin' so good for me..."

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty headcanons #captain john price #john soap mactavish #ghost simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #fic prompt #stacky stack

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babydollmarauders · 11 months

Text

SPARKS FLY — ETHAN EDWARDS

ethan edwards x fem!hughes!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which Ethan spends 4th of July at the Hughes lake house and becomes enamored with y/n Hughes

specific lyrics: “you’re the kind of reckless that should send me runnin’ but i kinda know that i won’t get far.” and “you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch. close enough to hope you couldn’t see what i was thinking of.” and “i see sparks fly whenever you smile.” and “get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down.” and “my mind forgets to remind me, you’re a bad idea.” and “lead me up the staircase, won’t you whisper soft and slow? ‘i’m captivated by you, baby; like a firework show.’”

notes: happy 21st birthday to my bestie, ethan!! i’m so sorry this is so late, i just wrote all of this in like 2 hours and it’s not proofread, so sorry if it sucks.

“Luke! put me down!” my screeches prove futile when my twin looks down at me with a wicked grin.

“down? okay!”

before i can argue that whatever he’s planning isn’t what i meant, i’m dropped from the dock and into the cold lake water. my body stiffens at the feeling and i gasp before my head is submerged under the water.

i kick my legs and rise to the surface, gulping in throat-fulls of air as i smooth my hair out of my face, glaring up at my brothers and their friends as they laugh.

“you’re gonna pay for that.” i tell Luke, holding my hand up in waiting for him to help me back onto the dock. Luke takes a step back, eyeing me with caution. “really? you won’t even help me up?”

“i’ll help you.” i look over just in time to see Ethan step over to the edge. slipping his hand in mine, he pulls me up, helping me onto the wooden dock. i can’t help but let my eyes wander as i rise to my feet, mere inches from him.

god, he looks good shirtless.

shit, y/n, stop thinking like that.

i avert my eyes, rather focusing on the shivering of my body from the summer breeze hitting my wet skin.

“i’m, uh— i’m gonna go see if mom needs any help.” i tell the guys, awkwardly turning away and jogging up the path to the back deck. my father man’s the grill, flipping hamburgers, while my mother sits at the patio table, cutting up a couple watermelons.

“what on earth happened to you?” my dad chuckles, flipping a burger. i scoff, rolling my eyes. “i thought you were just tanning?”

“i was. and then your son happened.” i tell him, flopping down into a chair across from my mother who finally looks up to see me in my dripping state.

“gotta be more specific than that, honey.” she laughs. “we do have three of them.”

“the one i’m cursed to share 50 percent of my genes with.” i huff.

“ahh, yes, that one.” she muses, chopping into the last piece of watermelon before handing me a triangle. “what did he do this time?”

“he dropped me in the lake.” i say through a mouthful of fruit.

“why?” my dad chimes in, finally shutting the grill and taking a seat next to his wife.

“cause he’s insufferable? i don’t know.” i raise an eyebrow. “does he need a reason?”

“guess not.” he shrugs. i take another bite of watermelon, juice dripping down my chin. “but here they all come.”

my dad raises his chin to motion behind me and i turn my head to glance back, making direct eye contact with Ethan, who walks between Luke and Dylan.

my head snaps forward and i wipe the back of my hand across my chin, cleaning the watermelon juice off my skin. looking over at my mother, a smirk and a raised brow adorn her face.

“you sure that’s a good idea, honey?” despite her cocky expression, her tone is soft and gentle, careful not to hurt my feelings with her words.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” i feign obliviousness, grabbing a beach towel off the stack on the table before the boys can take them all. i wrap the University of Michigan towel around my shoulders, using one end to scrunch the water out of my hair.

“i saw that look, and the way you reacted to it.” my mom reaches across the table, laying a gentle hand on my forearm. “just be careful. make sure you know what you’re doing, because if Luke finds out you like one of his friends…”

“yeah, i know.” i sigh. how could i ever forget Luke’s ‘friends are off limits’ rule?

before either of us can speak again, i feel a set of hands come down on my shoulders, making me jolt in surprise.

Jack’s laugh bellows in my ears, my eyes rolling in annoyance as he finds hilarity in my surprise.

i watch as the guys pile onto the porch deck, grabbing towels from the stack and drying off to prepare for dinner. my parents make themselves scarce, heading inside to collect dinner necessities.

i’m pulled out of my thoughts when Ethan drops into the chair across from me, stealing a piece of watermelon from the bowl.

“maize and blue looks good on you.” he whispers, sending a wink in my direction before he gets pulled back into a conversation with Dylan, who takes the spot beside him.

blood rushes to my cheeks as i glance down at the towel draped over my shoulders, the colors in perfect contrast to my skin.

“y/n, honey?” i look up at my mother who stands at the head of the table.

“hmm? yeah?”

“could you run in and grab the pasta salad out of the fridge?” she asks me, sharing a knowing smile.

“coming right up.” i rise from my seat, dropping the towel back onto the chair so that my brothers, or even trevor, don’t take my spot while i’m gone.

i make my way into the house, pushing open the sliding glass door and rounding the corner into the kitchen. opening the refrigerator, i retrieve the large mixing bowl of pasta as well as a bottle of water, before closing the door.

i jump in surprise, as Ethan now stands leaning against the counter behind the refrigerator door, almost dropping the bowl.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” he chuckles, a twinge of red coating his cheeks as he rubs at the back of his neck.

the sunset washes in from the window behind him, radiating him with a golden glow and i can’t help but notice the golden flecks in his green eyes. he looks so ethereal that my knees nearly go weak when i see him at full. water drips from his hair, dropping onto his bare chest and down his abs, and i’m only so strong, my eyes follow the droplets on their path, my lips parted as i take a deep inhale.

“uh- no- you’re uh- you’re good.” i tell him, finally pulling my line of sight back up to his face, where a cocky smirk is now placed.

“Luke sent me in to get the fireworks from the closet? but i don’t know what closet they’re in.” he replies. “there’s like 3 of them down here.”

i laugh, using my water bottle to point towards the closet underneath the stairs.

“they’re in there.” i inform him. “are we doing them after dinner?”

“yeah. i think it was like an unspoken vote? dinner, then fireworks, then bonfire.” he says, heading over to the closet and pulling out the large rubbermaid tub of fireworks. “jesus, do we really need all these?”

“it’s fourth of july, go big or go home, right?” i shrug, finally stepping back toward the glass door. “you haven’t experienced beauty until you’ve seen a Hughes fourth of july firework show.”

i turn toward the open glass door, making my way back out, but not before i hear him mutter to himself-

“pretty sure i experienced beauty the moment i saw you.”

my cheeks burn and i wonder if he meant for me to hear that or if he thought i wouldn’t, but regardless, the words make my heart race.

i sit back in my chair, watching on as Jack, Luke, and their friends light the fireworks before sprinting away to watch them light up the sky.

Luke, Dylan, and Mark hype Ethan up as he sets fire to the end of the fuse and jumps over the firework; waiting until just before the firework is about to go off in order to come running back up to the grassy patch where everyone sits. i roll my eyes at his recklessness, wondering just how stupid guys can be.

the reckless abandon in which he does things should have me running for the hills. i’ve never before been so enamored with a guy who does stupid things like these. and yet, just by looking at him, i know that i’m too far in now. the crush i’ve held for him for the past two years has blossomed into something more.

he smiles at my twin and his friends as they shake him and shout, hyping his stupid actions, and it’s like sparks fly when i see the beaming look on his face. and coincidentally, in that moment, purple fireworks light up the sky, shooting in every direction.

“i know that look.” i look over at my eldest brother, furrowing my brows at his words.

“what?” he rolls his eyes at my response, giving me a soft smile.

“don’t ‘what?’ me, y/n. i know that look. it’s the same look you used to give Matthew when he would come pick Brady up from the lake house when you were like, eleven.”

i laugh at his comparison. no longer embarrassed of the past crush i held on the older Tkachuk.

“and how would that look?” i ask him.

“like this.” Quinn attempts a faraway look in his eyes, batting his lashes and holding his folded hands up to his cheek.

“you asshole!” i giggle, pushing at his shoulder. “i don’t look like that! i have never done that!”

“okay, maybe not like that.” he relents, chuckling. “but you have that look of admiration and love. and i know what Luke says but… i say go for it.”

“what?” i’m shocked by his words, not used to being told anything other than ‘be careful’ and ‘you know Luke’s rule’.

“if you really think there’s something there? go for it. Luke will get over it. i promise.” he assures me, a soft smile on his face as he reaches out to hold my hand.

“but, just in case, i’d say maybe don’t tell Luke right away.” he tells me, pressing a peck to the back of my hand before he drops it, rising from his seat. “and here comes lover boy now.”

Quinn wiggles his eyebrows as he walks away, one hand gripping his beer as the other waves over to Jack and company.

i look over just in time to see Ethan, coming to a stop in front of me.

“Luke wants his Team USA hoodie.” he tells me. “he says you have it in your room.”

“oh, yeah, i have that. i’ll get it.” i stand from my seat, walking towards the lake house with Ethan following behind me. once we reach the porch deck, he jogs in front of me, opening the sliding door and letting me walk through first before he closes it again and fast walks towards the stairs, leading me up to my room.

he glances behind him every few seconds, as though making sure i’m still behind him, and i blush under his gaze.

finally reaching my bedroom, i open the door, letting him follow me in as i retrieve the USA Hockey hoodie off of my desk chair.

“here you go.” i spin around, ready to hold it out to him, but he’s already right behind me, a mere foot away.

“i lied.” he confesses, pushing the hoodie away.

“oh-”

“i just really wanted to talk to you alone. and i saw you wearing the hoodie yesterday, so i knew you had it and-”

“you don’t have to explain yourself.” i cut off his ramble, butterflies erupting in my stomach at the thought of him wanting to be alone with me.

“i don’t?” he furrows his brows as i throw the no-longer-needed hoodie onto my bed. i shake my head in response.

“no. i wanted to be alone with you too.” i admit, taking a step closer.

“oh, good! so i wasn’t reading you wrong? ‘cause if i was, you can just tell me to fuck off, i promise i won’t be hurt. i mean, okay maybe a little, but-”

“Ethan?” i chime in, stopping him from his nervous ranting.

“yeah?” he takes a step forward, leaving us close enough to touch.

“just kiss me, please?” at my words, he lets out a relieved sigh, nodding his head.

his hands come up to cup my face, pulling my lips to his in a quick but steady motion. our lips connect, his soft and tasting of the watermelon we were all snacking on as the fireworks went off. my hands snake around his neck, raking through the hair at the nape of it. i can feel him shiver as my nails lightly scratch against his scalp, and i smile into the kiss at the effect i’ve proven to have on him.

he pulls away, both of us sucking in a lungful of fresh air before he speaks-

“i’m captivated by you, baby; like a firework show.”

#speak now fic list #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards blurb #umich hockey #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3

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mischieveousmayhem · 19 days

Note

Hiiii I was wondering if I could request a Deku x reader and jealous ochako??

It goes where reader and deku are childhood besties like pinky promised to marry each other when they get older besties but reader had to move away to another country due to being accepted into one of the most prestigious quirk schools in the world (besides UA) and she ends up coming back to Japan during the UA sports festival and her and deku have a sweet reunion but ochako seems to be a bit jealous of reader and tries to make it obvious abt how she feels abt deku but in the end ultimately decides her jealousy isn’t worth losing her friendship over and deku and reader end up together :3

"Until we meet again.."

a/n: ok this took me a minute to figure out what i wanted to do but please enjoy! i did see the other part anon , where you requested what the quirk is, i just spiced it up a little! also please request guys im so uninspired till i see requests.

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem! Reader , one sided Izuku Midoriya x Ochako

Warnings: Jealousy, Cursing, Making Ochako act slightly fannon and annoying, Reader moves to Getmaly

Genre: Fluff , maybe slightly angsty?

Synopsis: Y/N L/N finally returns to Japan where she can finally see her bestest friend. However, someone (Ochako) has a crush on her best friend, Izuku. When Ochako sees the two super close she tries to steal all of Izuku's attention away from the reader. But is it worth the loss of making her crush, but friend hate her?

Readers Quirk: Energy Absorbtation. User can absorb energy around them (ex. electricity, heat, etc.) and release powerful bolts of pink bolts. User also has laser eyes and can absorb enough energy to fly . (Basically Starfires powers but using energy to create the power). However the user must be super careful! Absorbing too much energy can make them have too much adrenaline and lose control and go manic!

—

"HEY!" A small voice boomed across the playground.

The ash blonde and his friends turned to see to see who was yelling at them. The green haired boy sunk more thinking it was just another person who would treat him the same as the ash blonde, Kastuki Bakugou and his friends were.

"Leave him alone! He didn't do anything to you."

Looking at the figure it was a girl, she had H/C pigtails and beautiful S/C toned skin. This made Bakugou smirk. Really? A girl tryna challenge the great Katsuki.

"Ooohhh I'm so scared , what is a little weak girl gonna do." He sarcastically remarked.

She smiled, "Weak? You call this weak?" There are pink bolts forming around her hand.

"Wowww so your a night light?" One of the ash blondes friends say.

"Hmm, no." She takes the bolts and pulverizes a nearby petite plant. The ash blonde and the rest of the bullies eyes widened, "Could be you next by the way." She said knowing that the plant was only turned to ashes for two reasons, it was a small plant and secondly, she didn't really know how to use her quirk that well so she absorbed a powerful bit.

Bakugou snaps out of it, "Yeah whatever, I'm not scared of you. We're just gonna leave cause we don't hang around useless nerds." Bakugou leaves while his "posse" follows behind him.

The girl walks up to the green-headed boy on the ground and reaches out a hand. He immediately takes it.

"Thanks for that..." He spoke shyly not knowing the girl who was seen as a stranger.

"No problem! Whats your name by the way?" She smiled.

"Izuku Midoriya."

"Cool name! I'm Y/N L/N"

"Nice to meet you L/N"

"Please just call me Y/N!"

From then on the two hung out more and more each day and they grew closer and closer. To the point where one day when they were playing house in Y/N's backyard a conversation came up.

Currently the two had stuffed animals and dolls as kids and Y/N smiled "I can't wait to have a life this growing up! It's so fun being married to you too!"

"Yeah it is fun. I want to have a life like this when I grow up to! Being a hero and having kids that look up to me would be a great life" Izuku smiled at her agreement.

"I have an idea, when we grow up, let's get married!" She exclaimed.

"Okay!" He says giving her a hug.

Once the hug breaks she holds out her pinky.

"Pinky promise?"

Their fingers lock.

"Pinky promise."

The two were super estatic to grow up and marry each other. However they ran into a road bump.

"Izuku..I'm sorry but I have to leave the country. I got an offer to go to a better school than U.A."

Those words rang into Izuku's ears everyday even to the present day. Everyday he missed her , everyday he wanted to see her face to face instead of just texting her or calling her. He missed her dearly. Y/N was like Izuku's oxygen. He felt it hard to breathe without her. However her going away didn't set him back from his journey to becoming number one hero. In fact, it pushed him harder.

This takes us to present day, the day Y/N gets to come home. Although it is not permanent, Izuku is very happy she is coming back home even if it's just for the festival. Sure all his friends were nice at U.A. Especially Ochako. She considered Izuku her best friend, but he didn't consider his. Y/N would always be his best friend no matter what.

They haven't been separated that long either it's been like what? A year? Maybe a little less? Either way he was just happy he was going to her again. And again was today.

Waiting at the bus stop for her to get off, Ochako stood next to him, more like against him, she gave him like zero personal space. They were gonna walk with Y/N to U.A since she must not be familiar with Japan anymore.

"Soo who are we waiting for?" Ochako started conversation.

"My childhood best friend." Izuku says.

Ochako questions, "Oh really? Did they not pass the exam go get into U.A?"

"Actually that's not it at all. She got an offer to take an exam at a much more prestigious school and she passed. She is one of the top students in her class." Izuku explains.

She? His best friend was a she? This made Ochakos stomach turn into knots. She has had a crush on Izuku for a while but he knew his so called childhood best friend longer. What if he liked his childhood best friend instead of Ochako? Is that why he ignores all her small hints? Or maybe the boy is just oblivious as hell.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, the bus pulled up and there came a beautiful S/C toned girl who stepped off smiling as wide as possible.

Izuku didn't even almost notice her! She had changed so much. Her hair had pink highlights, the same shade as her energy bolts along with puberty hitting her like a bus, and not just her body, but her face matured. The only thing that made Izuku sure it was her was that wide smile and her glimmering E/C eyes.

"Izuku!" She jumped and embraced him. Before he could even embrace her back they started flying in the air in circles. After 5 seconds of spinning Y/N made sure both their feet touched the ground.

Ochako just stood there awkwardly watching this entire interaction. However her awkward stance is what was hiding that boiling feeling inside her.

"You can fly now?!" Izuku exclaimed at Y/N.

"Yeah! Training really does help you explore what else you can do with your powers." She smiled. "I can't wait to see your awesome quirk today at the festival."

She knew Izuku got a quirk , however she didn't know the backstory on how or why he got it so late. She didn't even bother to ask because the boy was happy and she wouldn't dare ask unless he offered to tell her.

"I'm gonna try my best to win." He says before turning to the awkward Ochako.

"Oh Uraraka, this is my best friend I was telling you about! This is Y/N and Y/N, this is Uraraka." He introduced the two.

Y/N stuck out her hand in front of Uraraka to shake it, "Nice to meet you, by the way you're like soo pretty."

Ochako shook Y/N's hand, "Nice to meet you too, and thanks." She said, but you could hear the slight bitterness in Ochako's voice.

The three walked to U.A together, mainly Izuku and Y/N talking and laughing while Ochako trailed behind them, like a third wheel. This wasn't fair. When Y/N wasn't here Izuku would be talking and laughing with her not Y/N. She would just have to get Izuku's attention some way.

—

Before the festival started Izuku and Y/N shared on more conversation.

"Woww , it must be fun to be able to compete! In Germany we can't compete in festivals till we're second years." Y/N explained.

"I wish so too, I would love to try to compete against you so I can show you how I can beat you with my quirk." He said pumping a fist up.

"And may she might, young students!" All Might appeared out of no where behind the two. The voice startled Y/N but when she turned around she saw All Might.

"Oh my stars! It's All Might!! Wait what do you mean?" She titled her head.

"I have heard about you , L/N. You and your fellow students were in a magazine a while ago." He explained, while Y/N's eyes lit up. "I can speak and have it arranged for you to join us in our festival. I want to see you at work."

"Oh my stars! Really?! Like really , really?!" Y/N was so happy right now she looked like she was gonna pee herself.

"I can try. Now wait for me outside in the hall while I speak to this young student." All Might says as Y/N obeys and closes the door on the way out.

All Might shrinks back down to regular old Toshi. He coughs before speaking.

"Does she know?"

"No, I didn't tell her."

"Good , I was afraid you would tell her especially since she doesn't go here." Toshi says, weakness in his voice. "I'm going to go take her to talk to the other pros in charge to see if we can get her to join the festival. I know you will do good Midoriya." He places a hand on Izuku's shoulder before going back to being All Might.

Before leaving he turns around and says, "Good luck."

—

Y/N hummed as she changed in the locker room. Ochako so happened to be there getting prepared. When Ochako spots her she immediately tries to avoid Y/N however Y/N's attention was somewhere else. She was just too excited for this opportunity.

When Ochako realized Y/N wasn't paying attention she stared at Y/N. Damn, she wouldn't blame Izuku if he did like Y/N. Y/N was beautiful and she looked so much better in the gym uniform then Ochako.

Y/N wore a sports bra only under the uniform because she wasn't prepared for this. Ochako saw this and thought she should do the same so Ochako took off her tank top and left her sports bra on with just the gym uniform on top.

Y/N turns, "Oh Uraraka! Guess what they're letting me compete in the festival." She smiled.

"Oh. I am happy for you. I hope you do well."

"You too! May the best one win." Y/N smiles friendly before leaving.

"Yeah may the best one win.." Ochako mutters knowing that she didn't want to just win the festival she also wanted to win Izuku's love and attention.

—

The festival contained of many challenges.

The first one was the obstacle course. Y/N ended up passing at number 15. That was only because she didn't use flight for it. She used her pure skills.

Next was the calvary battle. Y/N ended up being placed on team Todoroki. She was having so much fun she barely noticed it was a challenge.

Finally , it was one on ones. Y/N won her first round against Mina and she was super pleased by it. She didn't think she was that good with her quirk. But she had an advantage against Mina's acid. Acid is a chemical, and chemicals have energy.

It was time for Uraraka and Bakugou to fight and Uraraka was nevous before she went on so she went to Izuku.

But before she did she unzipped her uniform to show off her sports bra and then confronted him unfortunately Y/N was there.

"Oh Midoriya!" She exclaimed interrupting what Y/N and Izuku were talking about. "I have to fight Bakugou and I'm so gonna lose" She said almost in an almost too dramatic way.

"Let me help you come up with a pla–" Izuku tried to speak.

"I don't need your help with winning, I want to do this on my own. I know I can do it." Ochako say, "I'm just so nervous, can I have a hug before I go on?" She asks with pleading eyes.

Izuku and Ochako embrace for a solid 10 seconds before Y/N joins in. Then the unwanted group hug only lasts about 5 seconds.

"You're gonna do great Ochako! Bakugou just has a bigggggggg ego since forever. You're gonna win." Y/N smiled.

"Yeah, you are Ochako!" Izuku agrees.

"Thanks guys..." The "guy" thats came out her mouth was super bitter and she stared daggers at Y/N while she said it. However Y/N thought it was on accident so she smiled.

That almost frustrated Ochako past her limits. But made her think why is Y/N being so nice? Why can't Y/N back off OCHAKOS Izuku? Whatever it didn't matter.

Ochako hugged Izuku one more time before going to her battle. As she walked off she thought that if she did well it would impress Izuku and he will fall in love. Maybe she's being delusional but she won't give up on him.

Y/N and Izuku watched the painful battle of Ochako vs Bakugou. They were both putting on a strong fight but Bakugou was obviously winning.

"She needs to forfeit or she's gonna get seriously injured, Izuku."

"She's gonn—" He's cut off when Ochako hits the ground.

Y/N gasps and Izuku's eyes widen.

Midnight declares Ochako is unconscious, however leading Y/N and Izuku rushing down to recovery girl.

A few moments later Ochako's eyes fluttered open. She saw Y/N and Izuku next to her.

"Shes awake!" Y/N exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Ochako stared blankly. Why was Y/N here? But she knew Izuku was here so she put on a little act, "Oh my..I'm in so much pain right now." She wasn't seriously lying, Recovery Girl can't fully help Ochako recover.

"You put on a good fight Uraraka! It's nice to see you awake however, I have to prepare to fight Todoroki in a little. I'll catch you guys later!" Izuku hugged Ochako and she became slightly flustered before he left the room.

Sitting down in a chair next to Uraraka, Y/N speaks, "That fight was so impressive! I could see your strategy. I wish you won it would have been so badass for you to beat Bakugou."

While Y/N kept complimenting Ochako and talking about the fight. Ochako realized something. Ever since Y/N came back she's just been jealous of her. When in reality she shouldn't have. Y/N has no bad intentions towards her, she just wants to be her friend. Imagine if Izuku knew what she thought of Y/N? He would hate her guts.

Realization.

"And the way you used your jacket for a—" Y/N was cut off by Ochako,

"Do you like Midoriya?" Ochako asks.

"Yes, he's my best—"

"I mean do you like him?" She exaggerates the like this time.

Y/N stops and thinks before answering.

"... It doesn't matter, I don't think he feels the same." The answer came out her mouth almost too quietly, but Ochako heard it.

"L/N," Ochako sat up, wincing from the little pain she had left and grabbing Y/N's hand. "The way he looks at you, the way he interacts with you, every time he interacts with you it's different from others. He doesn't just like you, I'm sure he loves you. You're the love of his life, you should tell him."

Y/N is speechless, "But don't you like him?"

"How'd you know?!?" Ochako becomes flustered.

"It's obvious."

"Then it's also obvious he doesn't like me back."

Y/N got up and helped Ochako get up. "I know you like him, but I don't want to get with him if you lik—"

"Please, who cares if I like him, I want him to be happy and he's obviously happy with you. So let's go watch him kick ass." Ochako smiled hooking her arms with Y/N's as they went to go watch Midoriya vs Todoroki.

—

"Aww you did so well , though." Ochako spoke, where Ochako, Y/N, and Izuku were all back with Recovery Girl.

"I agree." Y/N smiled.

"Thanks guys, I'm disappointed though."

"Next year, you're going to beat him for sure." Ochako says.

"Same goes for you beating Bakugou."

"Speaking of Bakugou," Y/N chimes in, "I'll avenge you right now. Cause guess who has to fight him."

The two stared at Y/N.

"He's super strong though." Midoriya spoke up.

"He may be strong but I'm sure I'm stronger." Y/N smiled.

"You got this girlie! If anyone can beat him it's you." Ochako smiled optimistically, and this time there was no bitterness.

—

Y/N stood in the ring across from Bakugou.

"We meet again Katsuki." Y/N smiles.

"Don't call me that."

"Hmm, I'll call you whatever I want after I beat you." Y/N smiles.

"The hell? You'll never beat me."

"Wanna bet?"

"Damn right, I do."

Y/N giggles, "I'll go easyy.."

Bakugou had enough of the talk he sent the first explosion towards her. Using acrobatic skills, she flipped out the way dodging the attack.

"Damn, thats all you got?"

"Fuck no."

Y/N flew up throwing bolts at Bakugou.

The two were fighting for a good 15 minutes. The area was smoky from not only Bakugou's explosions but Y/N's bolts and laser eyes.

Unfortunately, Y/N was beat by Katsuki by default because she absorbed too much energy and went manic.

—

When everyone recovered and everyone recovered it was time for Y/N to go home. Izuku was sad and so was Y/N. They didn't know the next time they would see each other and this made them both upset.

It was rainy, and they both stood under an umbrella waiting for the bus to take Y/N to the airport.

"You did awesome at the festival." She broke the silence.

"So did you." He spoke , but there was sadness in his voice.

"You know, I'm really proud of you and your quirk is amazing. I can't wait to see how hard you train and how good you are next time I see you." She smiled almost sadly, "And then I'll fight your that time."

He chuckles, "I hope you don't think you're gonna win."

"Trust me, I will."

The bus pulled up and the two looked even more sad.

"I guess this is it for who knows how long." Izuku turns and faces her.

"Don't be sad, Izuku. Our separation is only temporary. Remember, I'll come back and we will get married?" She cuffs his cheek.

He lit up a little, not thinking she remembered the promise. He melted into the touch of her hand while nodding.

They shared one last embrace,

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Until we meet again, Izu."

The embrace broke but Y/N didn't walk off yet. What did was totally unexpected. She pecked his lips and ran on to the bus, "Call me later!"

Those were the last words he heard her say before he stood there flustered.

They wouldn't just marry each other in the future because they were best friends.

Izuku Midoriya found his true love, his soulmate, and he can't wait to see her again.

134 notes · View notes

hardstraykidshours · 1 year

Note

Hi! I just discovered you guys.

Can I request Seungmin x fem!Reader

They're a new couple still learning each others preferences, and having sex frequently because they're in the honeymoon period.

Dirty talk, and confident/assertive Seungmin please! Unsafe sex since this is fiction 🤭

aghhhhh!!!!! anon! bestie! i literally loveeee this idea. i definitely got kind of carried away writing it because i was having too much fun getting delulu about the whole "new relationship, honeymoon period, learning with each other" concept. i feel like a lot of our content usually leans more towards established relationships so it was really fun to get to write about one that was still in the beginning stages! i really enjoyed making this for you and i hope you love it!!

❤️ abbie & courtney

-------------------------------------------

pairing: seungmin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, 18+ (minors dni)

length: 1.9k

warnings: profanity, sexual/suggestive content, dirty talk, tit play, fingering, biting, public sex unprotected sex (please wrap before you tap), creampie, afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)

“fuck, baby, you’re driving me crazy,” seungmin groans out the words before dipping his head back down to your neck. a moan rises in your throat when you feel his teeth scrape lightly across your sensitive skin but you manage to hold it back, afraid that someone might hear you. you can’t believe you’re doing this. it shouldn’t surprise you though, it’s always been like this with him.

since the two of you started dating a couple of months ago, it’s like you can’t get enough of each other. you’ve never felt like this for anyone before. he’s completely taken over your thoughts, all you can think about is seungmin. being near him, talking to him, touching him, tasting him…. god, you feel like a sex-crazed teenager.

and it’s not just about the sex with him. he also just makes you feel so genuinely happy. you’ve never been with anyone who can make you laugh so easily, someone who can keep up with your back and forth banter, someone who you can spend the whole day with, but it feels as though only a few minutes have passed. it’s just so easy and effortless with him.

plus, the sex is also insanely good.

holy shit is it good.

like you've had plenty of sex before, but nothing like this. nothing even close to this. seungmin is just so confident with everything he does, but in a way that doesn’t make you feel inadequate or inferior when you get nervous or shy. he’s assertive and surprising, always trying new, exciting things, but at the same time, listening to you to ensure you’re comfortable and enjoying everything. it’s absolutely mind-blowing and you can’t get enough.

which is how you ended up here. sitting on the counter of a bathroom at an awards show, seungmin standing between your legs with one hand buried in your hair and the other braced on the counter next to you.

you’ve never done anything like this before, not even close. but you just couldn’t help yourself. from the very beginning of the night you couldn’t focus on anything or anyone but him. and the little triangle of his bare chest you could see from where his top button was undone. and the way he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his strong forearms. and the little smirk that would play across his plush lips as he made jokes with the other guests after the show. it was like you were possessed.

he was so goddam distracting in every way and you could barely hold a single conversation because all you could think about was getting his body on yours. luckily, you weren’t the only one having a hard time focusing on the event. seungmin thought he might actually explode if he had to look at you in that dark green dress for one more second. normally he had no issues interacting and engaging with everyone at these kinds of things. but tonight, every time he would get a glimpse of your curves in that dress he would lose his train of thought or stumble over his words.

during one of his stolen glances, he noticed you were already staring at him. the heat in your gaze sent fire through his veins and shivers across his skin, and he knew you were suffering in the same way he was.

he waited for a natural end to his current conversation, but instead of moving on to mingle with more people as he had been the entire night, he grabbed your hand in his and slipped down a hallway.

his mouth is on yours before the door to the bathroom is even fully shut. he blindly fumbles with the lock behind him before grabbing the back of your thighs and setting you on the counter. his lips are so soft and supple, pushing and pulling against yours in a perfect rhythm. sparks of arousal shot through you with every swipe of his tongue and graze of his teeth.

you don’t know how long the two of you spent kissing, but you do know that you are growing more and more desperate for him with every passing second. your already wet panties are now completely soaked and he hadn’t even really touched you yet.

he slips his fingers in your hair, pulling slightly to tip your head back in order to give himself access to your neck. as his mouth starts working the length of your neck you have to fight the urge to moan and whimper.

his lips trail up the side of your neck and he nibbles softly on your earlobe before whispering in your ear. “why so quiet baby? afraid someone will hear? don’t worry, by the time i’m through with you, you’ll be screaming by name.” he emphasizes his words by running the pad of his thumb over your nipple through your dress and you can’t help the little mewl that escapes you.

he smiles against your neck at the reaction before his mouth continues to trail down your body. when it reaches the swell of your breast he reaches up to pull down the neckline of your dress before wrapping his lips around your nipple. you feel his tongue flick across the sensitive bud and your back arches, pleasure shooting straight to your core. you choke down moans as he continues to work his mouth across your breasts, biting down on your lip in an effort to keep quiet.

you can’t believe you’re doing this. you’re at an event where anyone could walk in. you know seungmin locked the door, but someone could still try to come in at any moment. or they could be walking by and hear you through the door. fuck, what were you thinking. you freeze slightly, muscles tightening more and more with every thought of how this could go wrong.

when he feels your body tense beneath him, he immediately stops and pulls away slightly to look at you. “are you okay baby? what’s wrong? did i do something?”

his instant concern tugs at your heartstrings and you can’t help but feel bad for stopping things.

“it’s nothing,” you say, suddenly feeling very nervous, “it’s just, i’ve never done anything like this before. it just seems crazy, what if someone finds us? what if-”

“hey, it’s okay,” he interrupts you and steps back slightly, his hands sliding down to wrap lightly around your waist. “we don’t have to do this if it makes you too nervous.”

“but i know you want to and-”

“no. we talked about this. just because i want to do something, doesn’t mean we have to do it. if you’re not into it, or it makes you uncomfortable, we won’t do it. this is about us and making sure we both enjoy being together and not just doing whatever i want. okay?”

the look on his face is filled with nothing but fondness and sincerity and you can’t help the way your heart melts a little. you nod in response and he leans forward to plant a kiss to your forehead before stepping away further.

"okay, now how about we get back out there and then afterwards i’ll take you home and show you all the horrible things i want to do to you.” he throws you a smirk and reaches out his hand, but instead of using it to get off the counter, you pull him back to you. he stumbles slightly and falls into you, caught off guard by your actions.

he opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can ask his question. “how about you just give me a little preview now?”

his eyes widen slightly for just a moment before lust takes over his gaze. he moves in closer, planting his hands on either side of your hips. “are you sure? like i said, i don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

"oh i’m sure," you grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer until your lips are almost brushing his. "i want you," your free hand slides down you palm his hard length through his pants, "and i want you now."

his eyes flutter shut for just a moment and a cocky smirk tugs at the edge of his mouth.

“deal.”

the word is barely out of his mouth before his lips capture yours again. his hands start roaming your body, reveling in and worshiping every dip and curve of your flesh. the kiss turns fervent, your desperation for each other taking over everything. you fumble with the buttons on his shirt while his hands slide the hem of your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, leaving you exposed to him.

his hand immediately moves to your pussy, fingers moving your panties out of the way before sliding through your dripping folds. after a few teasing strokes, he plunges his fingers deep inside your cunt. he works you with his fingers, curling them with each stroke so they hit that sweet spot deep inside of you.

he moves his thumb to start rolling against your clit and his fingers continue thrusting into you. pure pleasure courses through your veins and his lips never leave yours, his mouth swallowing the moans and whimpers that pour out of you. when you feel like your very skin is going to burst into flames at any moment, you finally break the kiss, gasping for air as you try to speak. “you. need you. now. baby, please.”

seungmin groans in response, head dipping to press a chaste kiss to your shoulder before helping you undo his belt and slide his pants down to free his aching dick.

in one swift motion he buries himself deep in your cunt. passion overtakes his actions and he starts fucking you in earnest, every thrust shooting bolts of overwhelming pleasure through you.

his grip on your hips tightens and he grits his teeth, fighting with himself to hold back. “fuck baby, i’m not going to last long. not if you keep gripping my cock like that……fuck you feel incredible.” you brace your hand on the counter behind you as he continues to thrust into you at a relentless place and you feel a familiar knot start to build in your core. when he moves one of his hands between the two of you to play with your clit, you know it won’t be long before your high finds you.

as you feel yourself barreling closer and closer towards release you start to panic, realizing there is no way you’ll be able to keep yourself quiet. seungmin notices the stress in your eyes and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he brings his hand up to cover your mouth. “bite down, baby.”

at his words your orgasm slams into you and you comply with his command, teeth sinking into his flesh as you choke back cries of pleasure. your vision goes white as intense pleasure overwhelms your system and you keep your teeth clamped down on his hand, his palm muffling the sounds that escape you as release washes over you in waves.

“that’s it baby, that’s my good girl,” he murmurs to you while slowly fucking you through your orgasm. “always coming so well for me, always so, so, fuck!” his hips stutter as an aftershock ripples through your body, squeezing his cock exquisitely. a mixture of your name and whispered curses pour from his lips as he spills inside of you, his cock pulsing as you pull every ounce of pleasure from his body.

his head drops to your shoulder and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. “holy shit,” he murmurs after a few minutes while pulling back slightly to look at you.

“yah,” you breathe back, still in awe of what just happened. “holy shit.”

tag list: @sensitiveandhungry

#seungmin smut #seungmin imagines #seungmin x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #seungmin #stray kids #seungmin fanfic #stray kids fanfic #ask #request #anon #mine #minors shoo #hard stray kids hours #ask: hyunjin hasn't left the dance studio

434 notes · View notes

nxathyx · 8 months

Text

"oh, that's my cousin"

Gn! Reader x Dazai Osamu, Gn! Reader x Chuuya Nakahara, Gn! Reader x Fyodor Dostoyevski, Gn! Reader x Nikolai Gogol, Gn! Reader x Sigma I legit should've stopped writing this after Chuuya and Dazai💀

Hi hello so I thought it'd be fun to write about a reader who has a really good friendship with their cousin (cause I have to good relationship with my one and I like throwing insults around)

So um here's a few examples of how readers relationship with their cousin looks (through texts, yes these are all my chats with my cousin on messenger)

something like this :)

C/n - cousin name

Tws: swearing, insulting, family dramas😻😻 my lack of motivation and my terrible sense of humour (I feel bad for you if you end up enjoying this one..)

Dazai Osamu

°Bro he lives for your and your cousins energy like holy fuck

°if he ever meets your cousin he'd definetly get along with them like oml

°loves reading your banters or listening to it

°if y'all beat each other up he'll purposefully cheer her on and not you (rude ass bitch)

° once you were texting your cousin like "bestie, I think he's a green flag"

"bitch that is redder than the colour red itself what are you on💀💀"

°has definetly texted your cousin before

°they're great friends, but at first your cousin was really skeptical

°if you, your cousin and Dazai were to work at the agency

° rip Kunikida holy shit

° THE FAMILY DRAMA YOU TELL HIM

°he's in heaven (probably hell but yk)

° put your cousin on speaker when you'll gossiping and he's sat there with his wine just like 🤭😮😃

Anyways let's move onto how he found out about this bond of yours

You informed your boyfriend you were going to go take a bath, walking into the bathroom with a fresh pijama, your undergarments and a towel. You took your time in the bath just relaxing, cleaning your body, washing your hair, maybe doing a little spa day for yourself. Whatever it is you were doing, however while you were having the time of your life, Dazai was reading a book, until he got rudely interrupted by your phone ringing.. "failed abortion" (or whatever you have your cousins name written down as) 'what the fuck..' he didn't pick up, just ignored it before texts kept popping up "BESTIE PICK THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH DONT DO THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW YOU WHORE" huh... 'well that's not too pleasant' he thought in a sarcastic mindset, giggling slightly as the messages kept flooding your phone. Soon enough Dazai had the fantastic idea of texting back "ayo y/ns bathing right now" "idgaf tell that cunt to hurry her ass up cause i got some tea" he chuckled slightly, being quite curious what was so urgent, before knocking on the bathroom door.

"hey, dear. Someone called failed abortion keeps calling and texting you" although you couldn't see his face you just knew he had that stupid grin on his face, however given your curious nature, you cut your shower short.

Shortly after you were in your pyjamas, laying in bed with your back against the pillows as Dazai layed his face on your stomach, as his eyes were looking up at you with what almost seemed like a gleam, it was undeniable how much he loved you and how attracted to you he was, his fingers were gently running shapes and letters on your clothed skin, as you were typing profusely whilst giggling.

"hm? What's so funny?"

"just some family drama, nothing really important"

"so this failed abortion is a family member?"

You zoned out slightly whilst texting, before replying a few seconds later.

"yeah, sorry I zoned out"

"and who might this be, Donna?"

"That's my cousin"

He chuckled slightly before nodding a bit and sighing contently as he tried to bury his face into you tummy even more.

"you have quite the interesting dynamic with them"

"yeah, I guess so"

"im glad you keep in contact with at least someone in your family" he said with a light smile, before closing his eyes and just enjoying your giggles and the way your fingers and nails were hitting against the phone screen, already predicting how butchered the English is by your fast typing smiling a bit more at the times he just saw you communicating through texts with "ZDUHEZJHENHZ" "whst?" and other words that were completely written incorrectly.

Chuuya Nakahara

° Bro is confused

° if your cousins contact name is "failed abortion" or "mistake" or just something similar he legit thought you had a child for a second

"so uh.. Honey? Mind explaining when you had a failed abortion?"

°once he finds out its just your cousin he'd feel stupid (comfort him besties pls he needs it)

°he's so fucking tired and then out of nowhere this random ass bitch is calling you, spamming you with voice messages, photos, videos and piling up missed video calls and voice calls like bros about to destroy that fucking phone

°legit thought you were getting sent actual threats by how many insults he saw

°this fucker tried so hard to impress your cousin so they'll like him (he really wants your family to be fond of him)

°and then he just listens to you two gossiping being like 😰

"The fuck is wrong with this family😭😭"

°man's started stealing the Insults from you and your cousin

°if they get close and your cousin is younger y'all end up being like parents

"mama i papa" (idfk how that tiktok sound went)

°if you're also protective of your cousin he finds that so admirable and attractive like holy shit "hey mamas😍😍" (kms)

First meeting went interestingly.

You were sat next to Chuuya, and your cousin was sat on the opposite side of the table, at first it was awkward, no one really wanted to speak, until you started telling Chuuya something that your aunt used to do, when you and your cousin were younger, earning an appropriate reaction from him to the information you just shared, and that soon developed into you and your cousin just talking shit about your entire family to him (especially their younger sibling or your other cousin)

(Bro was flabbergasted)

"she actually used to do that..?"

Earning a small nod from you and your cousin as well as a few giggles that were muffled by your hands covering your mouths

Whenever you and your cousin were just calling each other the most gut wrenching names he was so confused, slightly amazed, intrigued and worried as hell, but more than anything he was glad you had such a close bond with someone that you two could've just insulted the fuck out of each other without getting mad or petty about it

Fyodor Dostoyevski

°Bro is just like "okay..? That's.. Yeah okay"

°like he doesn't know what to say

°takes inspo from the Insults and threats

°he legit just doesn't give a shit I'm gonna be honest

°"so just another weirdo? Alright"

°if he ever meets your cousin. tell him to wash that damn lice nest.

°please scrub his hair clean (make the shampoo go in his eyes)

°make him use deoderant for once in his fucking life

I want to write how the meeting will go but I doubt he'd go out and meet them, like I'm sorry

Nikolai Gogol

°this man is so entertained

°he acts almost identical to Dazai

°"put them on speaker I want to hear!!"

°he'd get along so well with them probably like holy shit

°y'all once just started taking about alphas (it turned into war)

°the Insults you two send are like a bed time story to him. Tell him all about the drama, speak your truth bestie

Yeah so like.. The meeting was entertaining, insults getting thrown back and forth by the three of you, some beverages and snacks and you just sat there for literal hours (can you tell I'm out of ideas and motivation?)

Sigma

°he is concerned

°you know how when he was with Fyodor, Nikolai and Dazai and he said "im the only normal one" or something similar

°THAT'S HOW HE FEELS RIGHT NOW

°like he's Fr just listening to you two talk about the family trauma while giggling and he's like "that ain't normal😶😶

°IF HE GETS ANXIOUS HOLD HIS HAND THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE THING I'M BEGGING YOU

°he finds your interactions interesting and definitely takes note of how you two speak to each other

°he never had a family of his own so he starts seeing your cousin as one as they became friends

°either that or your cousin is like your guys' child

°if y'all ever gossip in the casino he's kind of scared you'll scare the customers off

°definetly just sits and cuddles you while you're talking shit with them

°OKAY IDK WHY BUT A GROUP WHERE IT'S YOU, SIGMA, NIKOLAI AND YOUR COUSIN. PURE FUCKING CHAOS

153 notes · View notes

itsrheasgirl · 10 months

Text

CAN’T GET CAUGHT

Requestie for the bestie, @0bsessioncntr.

RHEA RIPLEY X FEM!READER

WORD COUNT: 2903

SUMMARY: YOUR ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY WAS MEANT TO BE SPENT ON A BEACH IN BALI— NOT IN THE GREEN ROOM OF THE MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, BUT AFTER A SCHEDULING CONFLICT RHEA HAD SOMEHOW CONVINCED YOU TO POSTPONE YOUR CELEBRATION FOR A FEW DAYS. EVEN THOUGH RHEA’S WORK ALWAYS CAME FIRST, SHE KNEW JUST HOW MUCH THE TRIP MEANT TO YOU AND DECIDED TO GIVE YOU A LITTLE SURPRISE TO TIDE YOU OVER.

TW: Smut Warning (18+) Teasing, Choking, Fingering, Praise.

- - - - - - - - -

Both your palms pressed down against the bathroom countertop as your shimmering gaze ran over your reflection in the mirror. Your current surroundings wasn’t exactly where you’d expected to be on your one year anniversary, but a conflict with Rhea’s schedule had left you attending her match in New York City and not sipping Pina Colada’s on the beach in Bali.

You’d been planning the perfect anniversary vacation for weeks— so you knew that your actual anniversary date would be spent in a stuffy arena instead of tanning under the glistening sun, but Rhea had promised you no work talk for a whole week when you finally got on that plane to paradise.

Pulling your long curls into a high ponytail, you lean in closer to admire the neatly written MAMI on your cheek. You’d taken to showing support for your girlfriend by embellishing your flesh with her name, the sign of affection always causing the alpha female to secretly swoon.

Lifting your gaze slowly as you heard the bathroom door open behind you, Rhea’s sapphire hues catch your own in the reflective glass before you as a devilish grin claimed her lips.

“There you are.”

Eyes locked with her mirrored reflection, you cast Rhea a warm simper before pulling your focus back to your own image in the glass.

“What are you doing here?”

You flick your gaze to Rhea’s reflection before looking back at yourself once more to check the perfect lines of your flushed glossed lips.

“Your match is in twenty minutes, shouldn’t you be backstage warming up or something?”

You questioned the sassy tone in your voice as the words left your lips, not sure if it was lighthearted enough. Batting full lashes as you made eye contact with Rhea’s reflection once more, your lips threatening a gentle smile as she crossed her muscular arms across her chest.

“Oh, you have an attitude today?”

Rhea’s purred as a manicured brow arched skyward before she gave your form a quick up and down with a impish gaze, her plump tongue coaxing over her front teeth with an eat shit smirk.

Slowly crossing the bathroom floor in your direction, Rhea didn’t once take her darkened eyes off you. She always looked so sultry when she wore makeup, her natural beauty only heightened by the purples and blacks that were painted across her lids. Gently nibbling at your lower lip as the desire in Rhea’s eyes burned at your skin, you spin on sneaker clad feet to face her dead on. Each of her steps seemed to take for what felt like hours, time keeping you apart as some kind of torture.

You wanted her near you, you desired to touch her and feel her fingertips against your skin but she should be focusing on her job and not keeping you entertained. There would be plenty of time to celebrate each other on your trip.

Craning your neck upwards as Rhea came toe to toe with you, you fell back slightly to rest against the sink countertop. Rhea towered over you as the smell of her perfume flooded your nostrils, the intoxicating aroma causing a pool of saliva to form on your tongue quicker than you could swallow it back. Even after all this time together, she still intimated you with her power and stature.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your tone dripped with innocence as you peered up at her through full lashes. Your fingers slowly curling around the counters edge, you flinch slightly as in one swift motion Rhea snapped her arms out either side to you— caging you in place against the countertop.

“Now now lover, we don’t have time for games.”

Your palms move to smooth over the soft skin of Rhea’s biceps, fingertips dancing across her shoulders before securing around her neck. Reaching up on your tiptoes, you press your lips tentatively against her own before dropping back to the ground.

“No lipstick tonight?”

Your brow arched slightly at the only imperfection to Rhea’s otherwise flawless makeup, a cheeky grin plastering her uncolored lips as she leant down to whisper softly against your earlobe.

“Didn’t want to make a mess.”

Before you had time to react you feel the feverish heat of Rhea’s lips as she began to devour your neck in heated kisses, a soft whimper vibrating from your chest as you gripped your nails into the subtle flesh of her shoulder blades. You forgot to breathe as Rhea’s hungry kisses turned into sharp nips and eager sucking against your fragile flesh, your head cantering backwards as your girlfriend left her mark upon you.

Your heavy lids fell closed as your spine arched slightly, the aggressiveness of Rhea’s hunger for your skin causing a throaty moan to break through your lips. You hadn’t noticed Rhea’s arms move from your side until her lips retract from your throat and your eyes snap open. Watching curiously as she joined her palms behind her back. Was that it? She was going to rial you up like that and then leave you?

Jutting out your lower lip in a playful pout, you continue to watch her with caution. It wouldn’t be the first time Rhea had tempted you with her womanly ways before disappearing to some work thing.

“I thought we didn’t have time for playing games. Don’t tell me you’re done already.”

A throat chuckled vibrated in Rhea’s chest as she gave you a quick up and down, her palms reemerging to grasp at your hips and effortlessly lift you up to sit upon the sink counter.

“Just getting started, baby girl.”

Rhea purred as her muscular frame took a small step back. You hadn’t noticed the purple bandana in her grasp until she handed it towards you, a small hum leaving your throat as you tentatively reached out to grab it. It was very common that she’d used the small square of fabric in your intimate moments and it didn’t bother you one bit.

Slowly coiling your fingers around the cloth, you chew playfully at your bottom lip. What would it be used for this time you wondered as you awaited further instruction.

“Which sense do I lose this time?”

An eat shit smirk captured Rhea’s lips as she closed the space between you once more, slipping in between your thighs as her heated lips returned to the hollow of your collarbone. Even the slightest touch from her caused you to whimper in desire and this time was no different, your forearms draping over Rhea’s shoulders as you tilted and angled your neck to allow her the best access. You couldn’t imagine what your neck looked like right now, undoubtably the flesh would be embellished with purple and blue bruising by the time Rhea was done. Mami always left her mark.

Painfully slowly, Rhea’s kisses moved back up your neck towards your jaw. You wanted her to kiss you, to feel her lips against yours. Gently craning your neck in attempts to meet her lips, you gasp as Rhea’s fingertips grip around your jaw and turn you away.

“Come on now baby girl, you know the rules.”

Tugging your earlobe softly between her pearly whites, you swallow back a moan as Rhea released your jaw and took a step back.

A devilish glimmer flashed behind Rhea’s gaze as she fixated on her masterpiece, admiring the chain of bruises that claimed your throat like a necklace.

“Be a good girl and put that on for Mami.”

Rhea’s tone dripped with authority as her sapphire hues flicked down to the bandana in your gasp, her plump tongue sliding over her lips before she turned her back on you to head over towards the bathroom door.

Following Rhea’s orders, you chew eagerly at your lower lip. Bringing the purple cloth up to cover your eyes before tying it tightly behind your head, pulling your ponytail free as the soft sound of a click from the door lock muffled through the fabric into your eardrums.

You could only slightly hear the sound of Rhea’s footsteps as she crossed back towards the sink, a tremor running up your spin as her palms slid over the expanse of your thighs. Her touch always caused your skin to pimple, her fingertips like fire and ice against your flesh.

Losing your eyesight caused all your other senses to heighten, making every inch of your skin hypersensitive to Rhea’s touch as she danced her fingertips over the exposed flesh of your thighs. You hated when she tempted you, but more often than not the reward was worth the wait.

“Please don’t tease me.”

You purred as your palms felt around for her own, a soft whimper parting your lips as she slaps your hands away. Rhea didn’t like to be rushed when it came down to pleasing her woman, but her match started in fifteen minutes and you didn’t want to be left high and dry when her job pulled her away.

“Patience princess, let Mami work.”

You could feel her nimble fingers toying with the lace between your thighs as her lips once more returned to the supple flesh of your jugular vein, pearly whites grazing against the pulse point like a lioness waiting to devour its prey.

You hummed softly as Rhea parted your thighs further so she could push her thumb against your sensitive bud, your hips arching towards her as you swallowed the pool of saliva that collected on your tongue.

You wanted to call her name— beg her to just take you but you’d already been warned about the rules and knew to wait until the right time.

Rhea’s thumb paused as she felt your hips shift, the fiery sensation of her lips at your throat disappearing in an instant and were replaced with a firm grip. The pads of her fingers finding just the right spots to make your toes curl.

“Mm—”

The pressure against your throat tightened slightly as the fingers near your core twitched.

“What’s a matter, baby?”

She was testing you. You knew what she wanted but you were more than ready to give it to her, you didn’t want to wait any longer.

Inhaling a shallow breath as Rhea’s fingers slipped skillfully beneath the lace of your panties, you roll you hips eagerly against them.

“Mami, please.”

Rhea slowly curled the tips of her fingers around your jawline, craning your neck down to press her lips feverishly against yours. Her plump tongue wasted no time invading your mouth, as she gently caressed your entrance with two fingertips.

Your tongues battled with dominance against each other as she gently inserted her fingers into the tightness of your core, your back arching and you head falling back as a soft moan parted your lips.

Rhea’s classic eat shit grin claimed her lips as she began to slowly pump her fingers up and down against your slick walls, her warm breath casting across your skin as she moved closer to whisper in your ear.

“That’s my good girl.”

Rhea’s grip still remained locked around your neck as she sucked the shell of your ear between her lip, her two fingers increasing their speed as you greedily rolled you hips. You expected punishment, Rhea hated being rushed and insisted on taking her time with you but the desire to have your girlfriend bring you over that edge was currently in charge.

“Awe, what do you want baby.”

Rhea purred, her lips moving to suckle at the soft spot below your ear as she waited for your response.

You could already feel every muscle in your body beginning to tighten, Rhea’s skilled fingers keeping up their rhythm as you gripped your fingers around the countertop. You wanted more— no, you needed more and you knew just how to get it.

One of your palms moved to snake into Rhea’s slicked back tendrils as you gently forcing against her hold around your throat to find her ear, your voice slightly labored as you spoke.

“I want you, always.”

A throaty chuckle vibrated in Rhea’s chest as she turned into your lips, her palm that clung to you throat dropping to rest upon your thigh as the pace of her fingers quickened.

Curling her fingers against just the right spot, Rhea kissed feverishly against your lips as a plethora of muffled moans fought from your chest. Each pump of her fingers tightening the tension in your stomach like an elastic band waiting to snap.

Breaking your kiss as you pant for air, your hips begin to grind against Rhea’s fingers once more. The fingertips of her free palm gripping onto your leg as to hold you still, you whimper in need as she continued to curl her fingers deep inside you.

“Pl— please, Mami.”

You whimpered as you hips continued to rock against her, desperate for her to bring you to completion.

“Please.”

You panted again. Your fingers tugging at the length of Rhea’s hair as her lips pressed heated kisses along your jaw.

Your begging was like music to Rhea’s ears as she continued to add more to her artwork upon your flesh, her rhythm slowing down only slightly to make you squirm. She was being such a tease and you knew it, but you had limited time and she couldn’t keep you waiting forever.

Tugging at Rhea’s hair to pull her from your pulse point, you tightened your hold to keep her head in place. If you couldn’t get what you wanted, she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

Rhea’s lower lip rolled beneath her teeth as she fought back to urge to stop all her actions all together, the idea of leaving you so close to release flashing through her mind as you gripped tightly to her hair.

“Demiii..”

You whined, wiggling your hips in eager desperation as a throaty chuckle vibrated in Rhea’s chest. Her slender fingers retracting from your upper thigh to coil back around your throat like a serpent.

“Want to try that again, baby girl?”

You knew exactly what she was referring too. When it came to your passionate moments it was always Mami and never Demi, she thrived off the power and you always enjoyed giving her dominant control.

“Mami— I..”

A soft moan from your chest vibrated against Rhea’s palm as she tightened her grip, her lips morphing into a devilish smirk as she watched you intently.

“I ache for you. Let me cum, please.”

Your back arched towards Rhea as she slowly slipped a third finger into the tightness of your core, your slick walls tensing around each digit as she increased the speed of her actions once more. Each pump of her fingers pulling you back towards the edge, towards the euphoria that you craved so much.

A plethora of moans pulled from your throat as you released Rhea’s hair, moving your palm to place it on top of her own as you encouraged her to squeeze tighter. The less air you could consume meant for a higher high when the band finally snapped.

Each thrusting motion of Rhea’s fingers wound up the tension in your stomach, your legs beginning to tremble as you could feel your climax drawing closer and closer.

“Fuuck..”

You purred, as your palms slammed down against the counter to grip tightly at its edge. Your toes beginning to curl and your head lulling back as Rhea’s tight hold around the column of your throat remained fixed.

The edge was close, you could feel it pulling you. Coiling one of your legs around Rhea’s waist you rest your heel in the small of her back as she increases her thrusts, the pad of her thumb finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and rotating counterclockwise.

The extra pressure against your clit caused you to inhale sharply, a satisfied chuckle parting Rhea’s lips as she leant forward slightly to hover her lips against your own. Whispering gently before pressing them together in a heated kiss.

“Be a good girl and cum for Mami.”

Your lips moved against each other in perfect unison, your tongues returning to explore each others mouths as your grip against the counter loosened. Your fingers winding round the back of Rhea’s neck to keep her close as you hips bucked for the last time.

The tension in your stomach reached its breaking point and you let out a pleasured moan as you released yourself over Rhea’s eager fingers that continued to pump through your climax, your head craning back and breaking your kiss as your nails dug into the supple flesh of her neck.

A soft whimper left your lips as Rhea retracted her fingers from deep within your slick walls, your fingertips moving back to play with the ends of her hair as you tried your best to level your breath.

You legs trembling and your inhales labored, you swallow the saliva that pooled on your tongue. A small flinch traveling down your spine as you felt nimble fingers against your ear, the brightness of the room causing you to squint as Rhea removed your blindfold.

“You did so well, princess.”

Rhea uttered as the pads of her thumbs moved to stroke against the apples of your cheeks, her lips curving into a warm simper as she leant forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before whispering against the shell of your ear.

“Happy Anniversary, baby girl.”

242 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 11 months

Text

Obsidian | Two | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.

☾ Word Count: 10,945

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, depictions of injuries after being beaten up (a named side character), explicit language, depictions of unhealthy/poor living conditions, mentions of murder, depictions of murder and broken bodies/dismemberment, violent action sequences, references to nightmare and hints at ptsd-adjacent memories/feelings, soci-economic commentary lmao, some confusing world building, mentions of weapons, scenes of a past betrayal/trauma.

☾ Published: June 13, 2023

☾ A/N: This took a little longer than expected to write, but I think I really like how this chapter turned out. It is a little bit heavier on the scene setting and laying the ground work for reader's position in this story and her past, as well as her function withing the Green Dragons. The third chapter is where things kick into high-gear and there's not really a moment with the foot off the gas once its starts, so buckle in besties.

Thank you to @theharrowing for being an amazing beta reader and assuring me that this isn't boring and that the pace is okay thus far, and for pointing out my accidental Dwight Establishing A Pee Corner in the Elevator reference.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

A name is a useful thing. You learn a secret name whispered across a table in a smokey room.

You wonder what you can do with the name.

Jimin is not a fun person when he’s angry. He is plenty of fun when he’s drinking at the bar or spares you a night out on his tab as a motivator and reward, but those nights are few and far between. You would much rather be seeing spinning lights at one of the clubs in the Crimson District than standing behind Montana under the thundering gaze of Jimin Park.

He isn’t mad at you. Well, perhaps he is a little bit for your rude interruption when he was talking to Agust. But right now, he’s mad at Burro, who is being dragged toward the front of the building where you think they’re going to shove him into a car. He isn’t dead, but he certainly no longer looks human. Swells of purple and red distorted his face, blood smeared across his face and in his eyes, blinding him.

It’s the worst you’ve ever seen your manager punished. Jimin has shoved Burro around before, but never like this. Never until he was dripping blood and drool onto the floor, orbital bone cracking under Jimin’s radiated punch and so disfigured that he’s unrecognizable.

The satisfaction is fleeting, scurrying away when Jimin turns that lethal stare toward where you stand in the door of the alleyway, waiting for him to address you. There is blood on his hands, staining his undamaged knuckles. You see the glint of emerald rings and feel his power ebb and flow. He flicks his hand and the blood wicks off, spattering the ground.

Outside, the air is balmy, sticking to you like a second skin. The sounds of slamming doors and the city echo through the mostly empty alleyway. It’s narrow, only wide enough for a single waste truck to back into and haul trash then drive straight out again. It smells like the wet scum that leaks from the air conditioning units rattling in the walls of windows of apartments above and like cat piss.

There’s a dark, Burro-colored stain on the pavement near Jimin’s shoes. He sees you looking at it and sighs, waving a hand casually. “Ignore that. Just another skid mark among many.”

“You’ve never punished him like that before.”

“Well, I’ve also never had a manager let a fucking Circle member kill a man that belongs to the armory, either.” You hum but say nothing, keeping incredibly still. It does not appear that Jimin’s sharp anger is directed at you, but you’re in no mood to risk it. “You’ll be seeing more of the Black Lotus at the bar. And some more security temporarily.”

You think of Agust and his cat eyes. “Why the Black Lotus?”

Jimin reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a silver box. You watch, his small fingers nimble as he flips the lit and slides out a cigarette. You hear the click of the metal container before he slides it back into his pocket and puts the cigarette in his mouth. Carefully, he brings his fingers to the end of the cigarette and you feel the tiniest pulse of energy as he snaps, sparking the end to life while he breathes in the smoke.

The energy used to light it barely registered in the jewels that Jimin wears. The emerald on his ring finger barely lights up - though it could be a trick of the light - but his other jewels remain dull and untouched. You know what it’s like to have that much power at your beck and call and the pull toward Jimin’s emeralds makes your palms itchy.

“There’s some shit going on with the armory.” Jimin blows out smoke slowly. It wafts upward toward the night sky and smells faintly of menthol. He takes a burnt-orange drag, blows it out again and shakes his head. “It’s complicated right now. I am interested in what the Black Lotus can do for us, and this is not a terrible in.”

“The Salib’s will be pissed.”

“The Salib’s weren’t around to witness it, were they? As far as they’re concerned, that man came into the bar and beat my manager within an inch of his life, killed Rollins and only managed to be stopped by a member of the Black Lotus while my light caste bartenders called me for help. Right?”

Lying is so easy. Jimin’s admission that he’s killed one of his own men and beat another one bloody comes easily. He isn’t worried about what you’ll think of him. You know he’s a monster just like the rest of them, but he’s a monster that you trust and that protects you. That protects your secret.

So you nod your head, blowing out a long sigh, accepting this tale that Jimin has told. He smirks around the cigarette in his mouth. “Good girl.” He gestures toward the door behind you. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t interrupt me earlier.”

“I apologize. It was rude and inappropriate.”

“It was. However, seeing as you managed to stop the fight, I’ll let it slide.” He takes a drag. “How did you, by the way?”

“How did I what?”

“Stop the fight.”

Digging around your pocket, you reveal the shatterwave. Jimin holds out his hand, palm upward. You drop the device in his hand, watching as he brings it up to eye level, scrutinizing it. Rolling it between his fingers, he presses the top of the shatterwave, releasing the high-pitched frequency. You both wince and you immediately feel sick as your own frequency is scattered by the sound. He presses it again and turns it off, but the ringing echoes in your ears.

“Clever.” He deposits the shatterwave in your hand. “Why not just radiate like a normal Radiant, hmm?”

“I didn’t need to.”

Jimin tosses the cigarette on the ground and crushes it beneath the toe of his shoe. You hear the crunch of gravel and the hiss of the embers as it dies. “Right,” he laughs. “Still on your little secret weapon bit.” You scowl at him and he raises his hands innocently, eyes full of mirth. “Hey, no judgment here. It helps me too.”

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re making the same mistakes again with Jimin. A powerful man who knows how to use his charm and allure like a weapon, Jimin is the worst kind of dangerous, disarming others with his flirtatious smiles and bedroom eyes.

Jimin isn’t unlike Seokjin. They both use the power of beauty and charm to cut down the competition and to install themselves in positions of power. But Jimin doesn’t have the ability to imitate empathy the way that Seokjin does. Even now, you can never tell what was real and what was imitation with Seokjin, the line between real and mimed emotion too blurred for you to follow.

You never have to worry about that with Jimin. Unlike Seokjin, Jimin’s mask cracks on occasion, the real Jimin bleeding through in moments of anger and desperation.

Still, Jimin has collected you all the same, keeping you safe and cared for like a coveted weapon. He asks you to do favors for him on occasion, trusting you to keep the secrets he doesn’t want his mother to know and to be his garnet knife in the dark.

But at least you know Jimin is using you. It’s a transactional relationship, but for once, you’re in the know instead of being led like a whipped dog on a leash, looking at its owner with nothing but love and devotion.

You never want to be a dog again.

“Come on,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s close the bar and get you home for the evening.”

Jimin does exactly that. He stands near the front door, arms crossed as he watches his men clean up and lockdown the bar. You close out the register, scribbling the very small sum made for the evening before letting yourself into Burro’s office to lock the normal cash in a safe. When you come out, you offer Jimin the zipped bag of profit for the night and he surprises you by waving his hand.

“Split it with you and the kid. For the trouble.”

For the trouble is another way of Jimin saying as your reward. It also means for your silence and for your continued loyalty. It isn’t hard to understand the multiple meanings of Jimin’s words. Jungkook bows and thanks Jimin numerous times, still wide-eyed and nervous around the Primus of the Green Dragons.

As second in command, Jimin’s power isn’t just in the glittering gems on his fingers and ears. He has influence among the Crown Cities and is a prominent member of the ruling body of the Armory, second only to his mother. The thought of the Green Dragon’s Dominion sends a shiver down your spine. While her son has taken a liking to you, she has not.

Despite protests, Jimin sends one of his men to escort you home. The walk isn’t far and you do it alone for most nights. Sometimes Jungkook is heading in the same direction to meet unnamed friends of his, providing you safety in numbers. You always have the protection of your hidden emerald, though you rarely have to use it.

Living in Market Town has given you enough experience to know what streets to take home and what groups to avoid. The Nulls tend to be more courageous the closer you get to home and farther away from the pockets of stores where Nulls and Radiants alike shop. For the most part, though, you slip through the shadows until you make it home.

Home is a giant, living thing. The Breathing Wall isn’t the real name of the towering complex with thousands of windows and thousands of residents. It was named something official long ago when the building wasn’t sun-bleached concrete and dotted with balconies spilling with life. Towels over railings, clotheslines drifting in the breeze, plants poking through the railing, rainwater catchers. Every porch facing the north was bursting at the seams, the apartment begging to be relieved of the cramped, teeming life inside.

Having an apartment alone in the Breathing Wall is a rarity. Your neighbors hate you for it, whispering snidely as the family of seven packs inside tiny walls, hissing when they pass you on the stairs. You ignore them in favor of keeping your head down and keeping your senses alert.

Murder is no stranger in a place like this. It thrives in the overcrowded halls, neighbors killing each other over too much noise, residents going missing only for their neighbor to knock down their shared walls for more space. The community is the administration in the Breathing Wall, and you know that you’re on borrowed time before someone decides a girl living alone in a building so desperate for space is a worthy target.

Inside your unit, you stand in the darkness. Silver moonlight shines in patches through your grime-encrusted sliding glass door. You’ve welded it shut, not wanting anyone to be able to get through it. It’s a simple home with a single mattress on the floor, a table with uneven legs and a mismatched chair, a fridge that hums loudly, and a tiny bathroom where the water is as likely to come out brown as it is clear.

It isn’t much. In fact, it’s nothing compared to the life that you used to live. You try not to think of the differences, especially knowing that you’re better off on a thin mattress with a lice risk than in bed with the snake that haunts your dreams.

There is no evidence of that life now. None of the fine clothes, none of the crystal glasses. There isn’t even a mirror in the bathroom to look in when you flick the light on, though that had come later, when you couldn’t stomach looking at yourself after.

After.

In a way, it feels like your life is split into two parts: before Seokjin and after Seokjin.

The before is memories that you try to keep under lock and key, stored away only when the information is useful for Jimin’s errands. Thinking about before, when your sheets were softer than clouds and your bed kept warm by rough but gentle hands is too painful. It reminds you of your stupidity, of your willingness to be used.

The after is filled with its own misery. Shadowed by paranoia wherever you go, keeping your head down and trying not to cause too much of a fuss. Becoming the punching bag for people who think you’re a Null or light caste.

At least you’re in control. Or some crude imitation of it.

Dinner is hot and fresh courtesy of Jimin’s guard - Alec - walking home with you. He was more a symbolic presence than anything, his Green Dragon crest turning away anyone whose eyes lingered too long and the sapphires drilled into his knuckles letting others know where he was on the caste. Even with sapphires, you could have sent him through several buildings.

Freezing water douses you in your shower. It reminds you of the water crashing down in the market today after Agust’s sabotage. Eyes closed and letting the metallic-scented water rush over you, you think of Agust. The shape of his eyes, the doll-mouth. He’s still an enigma to you, and you can’t help but roll the words he said to you around and around again.

Call if you need.

Agust’s voice had been like velvet when he offered. Surprisingly, you believe that if you called him, he would answer. It feels a little silly to trust a stranger - and a Dominion of the Black Lotus of all things - but somehow you think that if you told Bolero to call his boss, Agust would show up in a floral shirt and a smirk pasted on his face.

As though you can scrub away the images of him in your mind, you furiously rub your skin with soap. It does nothing but lather poorly and leaves you feeling raw and sensitive when your scratchy sheets scrape over your skin after laying down in bed.

Around you, the world is loud. You can hear the family fighting on the other side of the wall that your bed is pushed against. Mira’s voice is shrill and high-pitched, overpowering her husband's soft, rich timbre. Their kids are silent, trained in the art of their parent’s battles.

Noise echoes out in the hall too. Slamming doors, heavy footsteps, voices rising and falling along with the occasional blare of music as a door opens and shuts. The entire world is awake and bursting at the seams as you lay alone in bed, looking at the cracked ceiling where a tiny spider has built her web.

Falling asleep in a building full of bodies that never stop moving and people that never stop living is hard. You live in the center of the noise, always consumed by the constant hum of the building. And yet tucked into the corner of your mattress with the faint smell of mold and clutching your emerald close to your chest, you manage to drift off, waiting for your alarm to wake you the next day.

A dogwood-scented breeze twists the curtains of the bedroom. You wake up to a loud crash from somewhere in the house, feeling dizzy and disoriented as you fumble out of bed, limbs heavy with sleep. Morning light shines gold through the window, painting the mostly white bedroom in a shower of warmth.

Shouts and thudding footsteps echo on the other side of your closed door. You ease your way toward it, trying to piece together the sounds of chaos and glass shattering. There were four additional people in the house beside you and Seokjin, and by the thudding feet, you know there’s more now.

Seokin is nowhere in the bedroom and you pulse lowly, reaching your energy outward with slow-reaching awareness to map out the house. You feel the shiver of power from the garnet on your ring, bracelet, and jewels encased on your incisors like bloody fangs.

Seokjin is in the living room surrounded by dark caste Radiants. You don’t know why he doesn’t rip them apart and obliterate them with his onyx that’s permanently fused to his ribs. He is a walking skeleton of power that cannot be stolen, and yet you feel no throb of inky, dark power from him.

Your home is full of sapphire, amethyst caste Radiants, and a single emerald caste that you know is Riya. Riya’s energy is flaring as she makes her way toward the silent onyx that is Seokin at the center of the fray. You cannot tell which energy belongs to Dol and Laurent but you taste the crackling vibration of amethyst jewels and you hope it's them.

In your sleep-addled brain, it takes a moment to realize you’re under attack. Your mind races as you bolt for the door, gathering power in your hands as you do. It seems someone has discovered your private home, tucked away in the farthest reach of the Kim territory in Millenia. Few people know about this place, meant to be a safe space for you and Seokjin to hide, to keep away from the violence of your world.

When you step into the hallway, you see the black kraken of the Achilleos family sigil and snarl. So they have made their move on you, seeking the thorn in the side of their family. It’ll mean war, of course. You belong to the Primus of the Kim family, the most powerful lineage of Radiants in the Crown Cities.

You are untouchable.

The woman in the hall runs at you, energy crackling at her fingertips like lightning. You don’t blink, dropping down into the thrumming power of your garnet jewels and pulsing. The throb is deep and you feel the shiver in the hall as your power explodes toward her, catching her hard and sending her backward. She hits the wall with a thick crunch and falls limp, limbs twisted the wrong way and eyes staring, but not seeing.

If you had the power of onyx, you would have blown her apart. The urge to caste drop is always there, the dark jewel nipping at your feet and begging to be used, taunting you: Try it. Try me. Reach for me. See if you can do it.

There are more important things than reaching for power just out of reach, though. Like speeding through the halls, skidding to a halt to peer at a pile of bleeding limbs and shattered bodies. You avert your eyes when you see that Dol has a head, neck, and middle section but nothing else. His blood is on the walls, death on canvas. You vaguely make out Laurent next to him, though there is no face to confirm it’s him. Just a feeling.

Emerald power shivers in the house. You run toward it, a moth to the flame. You cling to the feeling of Riya’s energy, begging her to keep fighting. There are dead men and women belonging to the Achilleos family as you clear the east wing of the house and launch over the railing, landing hard on the first floor.

Wood splinters beneath the weight of your energy. You radiate higher as you approach the living room, two amethysts swiveling to meet you. You barely think about it as you breathe in the weight of the grand foyer behind you, thrusting your hands forward and throwing the entire room at them. Unlike the woman in the hall, they’re ready for you, wood and glass and tile shattering against their shields.

Momentum is everything in a fight between Radiants. You keep your energy flowing like a river, manipulating the power from the garnets as you radiate and turn your energy into hard, red glass that’s sharp as daggers. It’s a trick rudimentary dark caste Radiants learn as children, shaping their energy into solid form.

The red shards rain down on their shields as you approach. You don’t stop your assault, the red daggers forming faster than they can follow. There isn’t much distance between a sapphire and amethyst on the Jewel Caste, but the skill difference between an elite garnet and a decent sapphire is worlds apart.

Radiating feels like nothing else in the world. It is power rushing through your veins, like an uncontrolled dam break, water drowning everything in its path. When you were a child, this breaking of the dam into your power would make you sick - many Radiants get sick from the after-effects until they learn to control it.

Now, you let the power of garnet explode outward. You shatter their shields, red splintering against blue. Panels of wall rip back and fly into the living room with the force of your explosion. This time, the garnet shards you form hit their targets with wet, meaty sounds.

What you find inside the living room makes you stop.

Seokjin stands in the middle, arms linked behind his back. The people surrounding him don’t have him captive. He is surrounded by a mix of the Achilleos Kraken’s and Kim Red Claws, standing in a semi-circle and facing you. He is unharmed and passive, watching you with glittering dark eyes.

Riya is on her knees, head facing the ceiling. Her nose is bleeding and there’s a gash on her forehead, and her lips are parted. Her breathing is ragged and from where you stand, you can hear that there is fluid in her lungs, the phlegmy gasps of air hinting at internal bleeding.

Terror squeezes your heart. Riya is only sixteen years old, face round with youth, shaking as her lungs squeeze out air. Filling with blood and fluid. Not healing. Dark hair sticks to where she bleeds on her forehead and her clothes are damaged and stained.

You look at Seokjin who does nothing to help the girl kneeling on the floor, frozen in place by the thrumming power of an amethyst radiant. Eyes darting back to Riya, you take a single step toward her and Seokjin hisses, making you come up short.

“There she is,” Seokjin announces. His eyes are dead set on you. “There is the woman who killed Chrisoula Achilleos.”

You pause, mouth falling open. “I- what?”

You did kill the Dominion of the Achiellos family, but under Seokjin’s orders. Under instruction from the Kim family and with their consent and love. You - you did it for him. Seokjin looks down his nose at you and suddenly, you feel very much like a roach beneath his shoe, recognizing that look before. It’s the look that the Primus of the Red Claw gives someone before he’s about to put them in their place.

Or send them to their graves.

“Admit your crimes and we’ll let her live,” Seokjin orders you, eyes flicking to Riya. There isn’t a single look of concern on his face for the girl, who is now coughing wetly. Blood-tainted spit comes out of her mouth, frothy. She has minutes. “Confess, traitor.”

“I…” you’re at a loss for words, looking back and forth between the girl you’ve taken under your wing and the man who you love. Who loves you. Who loves Riya like his own blood. “Jin, what are you talking about?”

There is no flicker of emotion there. Seokjin looks at the man standing closest to Riya, and you see the decision on his face before he says the words.

“Kill the girl.”

Your scream shatters a thousand worlds.

Most mornings, you wake up screaming long before your alarm goes off. On the bright side, there are so many people in the Breathing Wall that making a little extra noise isn’t so bad.

Gray light filters in through the glass door. You spent a few minutes laying on your sweat-soaked mattress, heart beating hard enough that you feel it in your stomach, making you sick. A shiver rushes through you, muscles clenching as you try to stop it. Sweat makes the back of your neck and the small of your back sticky, sleep shirt clinging to your skin as you slowly roll over.

Memories turned dreams plague you every time you shut your eyes. Sometimes the memories are out of order or distorted, like watching a holoscreen with a broken transmitter, splitting the image and playing warped images. Sometimes, like this one, they are in perfect order, so real that it feels like you're back there in that house, waking up to an empty bed.

Dreams don’t capture the real horror of it. The brightness of the blood and the sound of bones cracking doesn’t quite translate in dreams, but you remember it nonetheless. Can picture the exact shade of pink the foam in Riya’s mouth was. Can see the sickly pallor to her olive skin. Can recall the exact blank look on Seokjin’s face as her neck cracked, severing her spinal cord.

As long as you never let anyone that close, you know you will never have to scream like that again.

With sore limbs and popping joints, you pull yourself up from the floor. Opening a cabinet in the kitchen, you reveal a small, pitiful wardrobe. Though it isn’t much, you do utilize the laundry mat down the street that the Green Dragons own free of charge, meaning your clothes are nicer and softer than anyone else waiting in the line at the always-packed community laundry on the first, tenth, and twentieth floors.

At the center of the thousands of lives in the complex is a stairwell, hollowing out the middle with a dizzying circle of stair after stair. There are two elevators of course, but you’re as likely to get stuck inside of one for two days as you are to find one working. You remember the time you had to share the cramped space under flickering lights and a neighbor whose name you didn’t know who kept urinating in the corner.

Life in the Breathing Wall is constant. You press yourself to the wall of the staircase as you begin the descent down fifteen flights, rolling the stiffness from your shoulders. It’s a good way to get the blood pumping in the morning and now you’ve done the journey enough times to not get sore, but it’s still a task.

More than once you stop on the stairwell to press out of someone’s way. People carrying furniture, baskets, bags, and groups of kids move in a tangled flow up and down the stairs. When you get to the bottom, the lobby is filled with a line of people watching the arrows above the elevator go up and down, hoping that the car comes down soon.

Stepping over a woman selling crystal bracelets that she asserts will tap into one’s ability to radiate, you end up outside in the hot breeze. The city has not yet made the full turn to autumn, but the wind promises something cool in the future. For now, it kicks up dirt and sand from the dry landscape just outside of the city's edge.

Behind you, the complex is a wall of movement. You leave it behind, starting on the road and narrowly avoiding a rumbling vehicle towing a trailer of junk. Morning sun bakes the top of your head and the pavement as you navigate to the subway, flicking through the text Jimin sent you overnight.

Hoseok is stepping in as manager for Montana. Stop by these places to order replacement furniture for the bar.

Relief that Burro isn’t coming back relaxes your shoulders. You have no idea who Hoseok is, but you hope he is even a third better than Burro when it comes to competency. Still, you’re not overly thrilled to be waiting for the creaking of the subway as it wobbles on tracks, lighting flickering on and off above you.

The train car is only moderately busy today. You manage to find a seat next to an old woman who could be sleeping or dead - you’re not really sure and you don’t want to check. Leaning your head against the metal wall behind you, you let your eyes fall shut as the car rocks back and forth, gaining speed as it heads to its next stop.

Around you, everything fades to dull noise. You’re tired, frowning when you start thinking of your dream. Your memory. It was a particularly vivid one, etched in your mind permanently. You’re unsure if it’s better or worse to dream of things in such detail.

Memories will kill you one day, you think. You were haunted by memories of your early childhood before meeting Seokjin for years, and now you’re plagued with him. The man who takes up the space of most of your life, the face you see when you go to bed, the voice that whispers to you in your dreams.

Above you, the speakers on the train let out a loud chime and declare what station you’re at. Eyes fluttering and adjusting to the light, you squint and lean forward, elbows pressed to the top of your knees to support you as the car slows down.

This stop is cleaner than the last. There are transportation robots patrolling on the landing, stopping and ensuring that people know where they’re going. You see sanitation workers changing trash receptacles and here, there are train schedules and maps displayed across a dozen screens that are hung up over the escalators to the city above.

Aurora is a wealthy district, with cleaner air and better infrastructure. Here, the buildings are all in neat rows and decorated with shining sculptures and gardens with flower arches. Patrol robots roll down the wide sidewalks and cars hum by, moving slowly in traffic.

Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like you’re in another world when you visit the wealthy districts. Even the building style here is different, opting out of tall skyscrapers for white brick villas and single-story shopping malls. Here, people stroll on the streets walking their dogs. Here, there are no overwhelming holographs advertising body modification and simulated sex.

Clean. Curated. Calm.

There are so many worlds within the sprawling city of Diade. Each district looks so entirely different, like they’ve been pulled out of a simulation and dropped onto the map. If you look into the distance, you can see the great towers of Civ looming like knives. Adjacent to them on the other side of Market Town is Pulse.

You choose not to go to Pulse. Ever.

Citizens glance your way when you pass them on the street. Everything here is so pristine and built with neat lines. Even the clothes on those who walk by are geometric and linear, seams pressed, flat stitching in comparison to your pants that don’t fit quite right and have mysterious stains and the shirt that looks like the idea of red more so than the color.

Utopia. The word jumps out at you as you turn down a shopping district filled with clean-looking clothes and stoic art displayed behind glossy windows. It stands right on the edge of Green Dragon territory, rolling to the coast where the sea salt sprays against the cliffs.

Just a little south and you’d be in Viper territory. The thought makes you shiver and move a little faster, keeping your head down. The Manoban family hates you as much as the Kim family and it’s best to keep away from their sneaking eyes and vipers.

At the first shop, you’re nearly denied at the door. You flash the small Green Dragon charm shoved in your pocket and the woman relents and mutters an apology that doesn’t feel very just. Even as Jimin’s envoy, she watches you warily as you point out pieces of tables and stools to replace the old ones. She takes down the order and sends you on your way.

It’s much the same at each place Jimin sends you. A wary are you lost followed by forced tolerance. Jimin might be the refined prince of the Park family but any respect and niceties reserved for people who matter aren’t wasted on you. You don’t mind - you’re not here to rub elbows or ask for any favors, so winning the affections of the elite isn’t at the top of your to do list.

If you had to do it though… you try not to think about it as you skip back to the subway, checking your phone for the time. Your next shift starts soon, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to do with a bar with bare minimum furniture. Still, Jimin didn’t say that the bar was closed, so you know you’re expected to show up regardless.

A group of people dressed in tight fitted clothing, harnesses and LED accessories get on the train with you. Your eyes ghost over their tattoos and the hint of body modifications, lips twitching. They’re the kind of people that Seokjin liked the least, rich enough to spend their money clubbing and sweating out drugs in underground basements and raves. You always thought it was a bit hypocritical, given it was his clubs and drugs they indulged in.

Such hypocrisy used to be your life, though. The big names of the city, building the perfect little system to keep them at the top while frowning at the bottom for being at the bottom. Jimin is a part of the machine, of course, and so are you. But to try to escape the machine is to die, so you’ve tried to hide yourself in a small part, a useless cog that no one cares about.

When you get off the train to drop yourself back into Market Town, you can’t help but look over your shoulder at the group. They’re giggling at a glittering holo on someone’s phone. Looks like an entertainer of some sort, maybe someone that they’re going to see in Pulse.

The doors shut and cut your vision off. There’s a loud announcement that the subway is leaving as the car rolls back for a second before shooting forward, carrying the strangers away from you where you’ll never see them again.

Setting sun paints Market Town spilled-blood red. It warms your face as you stick your hands in your pocket, moving along the streets flush with people heading toward the shops and stalls and strips of businesses. Anxiety prickles your skin as you get closer to work, the weight of the night before weighing down on you. Surely the Salib family has already burned down the establishment in retaliation. Or perhaps they’re waiting and you’ll die a fiery death on your shift.

Montana is still standing when you turn the corner. The usual members of the Night Sphinxes lean on the cracked walls of their buildings and smoke clove cigarettes. You eye them more than usual as you head up the walk, waiting for one of them to ask you a question. Waiting for them to push off the wall and come across the street.

They don’t. You warily push the door open to Montana, a new sensation tickling the back of your neck. You know Agust is in the bar before you see him sitting on the only stool left in the building. Jungkook looks at you from where he’s leaning on the bar listening to whatever Agust is saying. He nods in greet as you stand at the threshold, staring at Agust’s back.

He’s broader than you remember from the night before. Today he’s in a white t-shirt that he fills out nicely. His shirt is tucked into jeans, showing off a narrow waist that looks dainty compared to a trace of muscle you can see through the shirt.

Slowly, you head toward the bar. You give Agust a wide berth, keeping your eyes trained to him as he speaks softly. You can just barely hear the low notes of his voice as you get closer, the tingling in the back of your neck increasing.

When you enter Agust’s vision, he grins in your direction. His eyes are glittering, his smirk crooked and deadly. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you want to shiver. Instead, you clench your muscles, fighting the rippling reaction of whatever his gaze inspires and head to Jungkook.

Ignoring Agust, you ask Jungkook, “So we’re just gonna work with half furniture and…” you look around. It’s just Agust sitting at the bar with his gaze pinned on you. “A single patron.”

“Jimin said the new manager would be in tonight.”

“Great.” You glance at Agust. “What’s he doing here?”

“He is holding up his end of the agreement. I said I would offer protection and damage control for what happened with my man last night.” Agust gestures to the bar. “Services rendered.”

“You’re going to single-handedly stop the Salib’s if they come bursting through that door?”

His lips twitch and he looks down at the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m equipped.”

There is little doubt in your mind that he is. Instead of answering, you throw him a dirty look before heading toward the back, giving some lame excuse about going over finances while you wait for the new manager to arrive. In truth, being near Agust with the static feeling on your skin makes you anxious.

If Jungkook has any qualms about entertaining your new guest, he doesn’t say anything. He goes back to saying something about sports, voice vanishing as you move into the store room and to the office tucked away near the emergency exit.

Water drips from the ceiling in the office, making it smell dank. The air is cloying and you slide a broken cement brick in front of the door to keep it from closing, letting out the stale air. It’s not a well-kept office and there are papers, inventory orders, and cups everywhere. A computer console sits in the corner, orange light blinking to indicate it's in sleep mode.

Instead of powering it on and going straight to trying to weed any of the mess Burro has left behind, you start cleaning up the office. If you’re going to get a new manager, it might do well to start with a clean office, especially if he’s anything like Burro leaving you to manage the bar most nights.

While you clean, you never lose the sense of Agust’s presence in the bar. He sits at the back of your mind and awareness like a candle, flickering and warm as you shove things into a trash bag. You still don’t understand why his existence presses down on you the way it does. Curiosity almost sways you to go out and talk to him. Learning where your curiosity gets you keeps you where he can’t watch you.

After an hour of picking it up, the office looks better. You haul the bag over your shoulder and toss it into the overflowing dumpster in the alleyway. You pause, staring into the night. City sounds echo down the alleyway, reminding you of just yesterday when you stood outside talking to Jimin. Burro’s beaten and bloody face flashes in your mind, a new reminder that as much as you like Jimin, he’s still deadly.

Inside, you sense the arrival of other people. You lock the door, focusing on the shape and feel of their energy for a moment. Two emeralds and something strong but a little scattered, power like a lightbulb. It’s not a common feeling, but you suspect you know the reason for the flickering energy, walking to the front of the bar and slipping through the door.

Jimin is leaning against the bar with a single elbow, grinning lazily as another man you don’t know speaks to Jungkook. Agust is still sitting where you left him, his hand on his glass of whiskey. At your arrival, his ochre eyes settle on you and don’t move. You want to squirm under his gaze. Instead, you wipe your hands on your pants and approach Jimin and this new man, eyes flicking between the two.

The stranger is handsome. That’s the first thing you notice about him. His dark hair is a little long, gelled back elegantly to reveal smooth skin, and a long, narrow face. His ochre eyes are focused on Jungkook, sparked with interest as he stands easily with a hand tucked into his suit pocket. His face is delicate and reminds you of the fresco paintings you’ve seen in Aurora.

When he speaks, his voice is playful and warm, rising and falling with a hypnotizing cadence as he says something to Jungkook that makes the younger tuck his chin to his chest and blush, shaking his head. It puts you on edge, this man who looks at Jungkook with glittering eyes and a hungry smirk.

Jimin turns to look at you and smiles. His eyes crinkle at the edges, his genuine happiness easing your alarm as you lean on the bar, palms pressed flat to the top of the sticky surface.

“Thank you for running all those errands,” Jimin says, reaching into the coat of his jacket. Today he’s in pink silk, a startling color that flushes his face full of color. He looks good, an emerald dragon brooch pinned neatly to the lapel. “Hoseok will be doing that shit from now on and you can return to your duties as expected.”

With nibble fingers, Jimin flicks a neatly folded band of bills at you. You don’t move at first, staring at the wad of money. Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes. “You earned it. Don’t think I don’t know you haven’t been running this fucking place.”

Bowing at the waist you take the offering from him. Your eyes flicker to Hoseok, who regards you with interest. There is something about him that puts you on edge, the flickering energy of a Chaotic crackling against your nerves like electricity.

Hoseok extends a tan hand to you, grinning. It’s a disarming grin but you still feel on edge, reaching over the counter to shake his hand. It’s warm, long fingers gripping firmly. You get the sense of a flickering flame, the feel of the color red. Like you, but broken. Stranger.

Carnelian, you think as he pulls his hand back. He’s a Chaotic who radiates with one of the stones that’s not on the Jewel Caste. You let go of his hand and stare. It’s so unusual to meet someone on the Chaotic Caste, whose energy radiates in unexpected and uncontrolled ways. You only know a single Chaotic and she’s as dangerous as she is helpful, her power uncontrolled.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hoseok says. He seems honest, leaning on the bar. “I’m sorry you had to deal with poor management before me. You can understand Jimin’s predicament, though, having to please Burro’s father. You won’t find the same failures with me.”

“Good to hear.”

Carnelian is a dark color on the Chaotic Caste. It’s hard to decide whether he has the potential to be stronger than you or not, which is the problem with the Chaotics. While Chaotics are technically Radiant, their power is different and manifests in ways that don’t touch the same frequency level as the traditional Jewel Caste.

From your limited understanding of the Chaotic Caste, most Chaotics are relatively weak. It’s difficult to use stones like carnelian and tourmaline, the contents and frequency of them are not as easily accessible as the other gems. But there’s limited science suggesting that those who use the stone on the Chaotic Caste have great ability, manipulating energy and stones that are more unforgivable.

Your eyes drift to Agust who watches with muted interest. Perhaps that’s why he is so hard to read. He doesn’t feel like Hoseok, who sparks with energy. Agust feels like an oppressive buzz, like he is a dam holding back a wave of power unfamiliar and strange. It’s rare to meet one Chaotic, let alone two back-to-back.

Hoseok sits on the stool and peppers you and Jungkook with questions about the establishment and its patrons. They’re easy questions - good questions, even. Your wariness doesn’t quite leave, though Hoseok seems nice enough. It could all be a facade - most likely is a facade - so you remain diligent, answering his question neutrally and watching the way his eyes slide to Jungkook in a way that makes you bristle.

Agust is silent through the exchange, lifting his finger for a refill. Jungkook takes care of him. Agust’s eyes flicker to you again but you don’t meet his gaze, wishing he would stop. You’re unsure why he’s so fascinated with you but his gaze makes you nervous. Makes you pick at a splinter on the bar until Jimin tuts at you, muttering something about destroying his bar further.

Jimin dismisses himself when Hoseok asks Jungkook to give him a tour of the building and walk him through a day in Jungkook’s life as a bartender. It’s an obvious ploy to get Jungkook to himself, turning Jungkook blossom pink as he leads Hoseok toward the back, your eyes zeroed in on them and for any sign that Hoseok means him harm.

The door swings shut and you strain your hearing, listening to Jungkook’s soft voice as he takes Hoseok to the office you just cleaned up. Agust chuckles behind you, low and throaty. You ignore him, letting your energy expand to keep a pulse on the two men out of your line of sight.

“You’re protective over him,” Agust notes. “Cute.”

“Loyalty isn’t cute. It’s the bare minimum.”

“Most don’t know the true value of loyalty.”

You turn over your shoulder, throwing him a cursory glance. He’s leaning on his elbows, hands laced in front of him. It’s hard not to look at his fingers, long and rough, knobby at the knuckles like they’ve been broken a few times. “And you do?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Still unsure why.”

“My man destroyed the bar and put you all in danger. I’m here to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Why you though?”

His lips twitch and he raises a brow. “Why not me? I told you I was equipped.”

“You’re the Dominion of the Black Lotus. Is this not beneath you?”

“A lot of things are beneath me.” You catch the innuendo in his words and look away. “This is not one of them. Consider it an act of good faith on my blossoming friendship with Jimin.”

“So you’re kissing his ass.” He shrugs a shoulder and sips his drink. “If you think he’ll buy it, you’re wrong. Jimin might seem like he’s swayed easily, but he won’t give you whatever it is that you want just because you flatter him a little.”

“You wound me. As charming as I can be, that isn’t what I’m here to do.” He chuckles and begins to trace the rim of his glass. Again, your gaze goes to his long fingers. “You can put the claws away. I can still work for what I want while being genuine.”

Again, you’re reminded of the similarities between this man and Seokjin. Charming, playful. A master with words, revealing truths and intentions only when it suits them. You know that’s how you fell for Seokjin’s machinations for so long, unable to realize that sugared half-truths are more dangerous than lies.

You grab a rag and rub at the sticky counter furiously, as if you could scrub away Seokjin’s grinning face from your memory. “I bet you’re getting used to what you want just like the rest of them, hmm?”

His eyes darken, finger tracing the rim of the glass coming to a stop. You can’t help but admire his hands. There’s something brutal and delicate about them at the same time, made to create art but hardened by the need to create violence.

“I’m not in the Armory,” Agust says darkly. “What I get, I work for.” He lifts his chin a little, eyes zeroed in on you. “Never mistake my motives and intentions for those who belong to the Armory.”

“Then what do you want?”

It takes him a minute to answer. He lifts the glass to his lips and drinks the rest, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You stare at the smooth canvas of his neck, the urge to bite down on it suddenly taking over.

“I want what I’m owed,” Agust finally answers, setting the glass down on the bar. Again, his eyes are piercing. “You should too.”

Your heart skips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, Agust gives you a meaningful look, a strand of dark hair falling in his face. “I’m heading out for a smoke and a walk. Call me if you need.”

“I don’t even know how I would do that.”

With a satisfied grin, he pulls his phone out and taps on the screen. You feel your pocket vibrate, your hand flying to it and pulling it out. The holograph flashes a message from an unknown number, but it’s obvious who it’s from.

Now you can call.

“Did Jimin give you my number? Why do you have my number?” Agust pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and shrugs, spinning on his heel and walking toward the door. You hear the snap of his fingers and the small pulse of energy as he lights it without a lighter or match. “Can’t you just deal with Hoseok? He’s the manager.”

“I mean it,” Agust says, voice soft. He gives you a final look. “Call me if you need me.”

Questions unanswered, you watch as Agust exits the bar, the door slamming behind him. Behind you, the TV drones about some accident in the Bluffs. You tune it out, mind racing with questions surrounding the one very confusing, dizzying Agust.

He has to be somewhere on the Radiant or Chaotic spectrum. You ponder it when Jungkook and Hoseok come back through the door, talking amicably about art. Jungkook seems enamored, eyes wide and hands moving as he describes something beyond your skill to understand with digital art, but Hoseok is tuned in, umber eyes bright.

Hoseok sits down at the bar, leaning on a hand. His attention turns back to you and you find yourself dodging the usual questions: Do you have family? What did you do before this? What are your hobbies? After his third attempt to get you to open up, Hoseok gives you a bit of a knowing smile tinted with something you think might be sadness before he stops his prying.

“Where’d the troublemaker go?” It takes you a second to realize that Hoseok is talking about Agust. “Out for a smoke?”

You nod. “Are you familiar with one another?”

“Vaguely. He and Jimin are working on some business ventures together but it’s best to keep my nose out of those sorts of things.” Hoseok gives a lop-sided shrug. “He’s dangerous, but I’d prefer him to be the kind of dangerous on my side, you know what I mean?”

You do know what Hoseok means. You were that very danger that the Kim’s liked to keep by their side like a trained hound until they needed a scapegoat. “I suppose,” you offer instead. Your eyes drop to the carnelian bracelet hidden under his jacket sleeves earlier. “Carnelian?”

He smiles. “Chaotic. Does that make you nervous?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “Just surprised. I only know one other Chaotic.”

“Ah, well I’m much better company than Agust, I assure you.”

A pause. Your eyes snap up and you tilt your head. “So he is Chaotic?”

“Is that not who you were talking about?” You shake your head. “Ah, well. Not like it’s a secret exactly. He is a Chaotic, but he keeps whatever he’s radiating at pretty close. I’ve only seen him go down to carnelian, so who is really to say. I saw him use an amethyst once, though.”

“Chaotics can’t use jewels. Can they?”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ve never been able to grab a hold of a garnet or any of the like colors. But I can certainly feel jewels around me, sort of like a battery that is just out of my reach. Rumor has it that someone strong enough could, though.”

“And you don’t know how strong he is?”

“Strong enough to matter.”

You hum but say nothing else. Strong enough to matter is a good enough answer in this city. Especially among the Armory families and the Circles.

Hoseok is nice and eager to learn. You and Jungkook begin walking him through different drinks after he admits he’s never been a bartender before, but would like to know what to do in the event that either of you are unavailable. It’s different. Good, but different.

Agust returns but sits in the corner of the bar with a tablet, the blue glow on his face making him haunting. A group of young patrons eventually stumbles in, loud and slurring as they head to a booth. You see Agust look up at them, his dark eyes assessing them before catching the dragon tattoos and the green colors. He resumes whatever it is he’s doing, uninterested.

He looks at you occasionally, of course. You sense it when his eyes land on you, making you fidget. You studiously ignore him, refusing to give in to the urge to look up at him. You want to ask him questions, though, about him being a Chaotic and to see what he knows about you.

Over and over his words echo in your head: I want what I’m owed. You should too.

What does this man you’ve known for barely two days think you’re owed? It unsettles you. But tomorrow is an off day and you know just the person to visit for information, though you’re less than enthused to pay her a visit.

Purple smoke and the smell of vanilla and cinnamon cloy the air. The smell clings to the shag carpets and the tapestries hung over the walls, swaths of colors and patterns dizzying in the dim light. You take a seat in a purple crushed velvet chair, the springs creaking in protest under you. The air is thick with the dramatic smoke drifting from the small gap between the curtained hallway, making you dizzy.

Letting a little energy out, you radiate around you, clearing your air and keeping it perfume free. Azi has a flair for the dramatic, keeping the lounge to her little seer den dark, cold and full of incense that smells strong enough to give you a headache for the rest of the day.

A man sits across from you, looking around the room, fingers fiddling in his lap and teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He has no energy signature - a null - and he’s dressed in a wrinkled business suit, forehead slicked with sweat despite how cool it is in the room.

People from all over the city come here to the trenches of Market Town to find Azi’s hole-in-the-wall. It is a haven for fortunes not yet told, and questions that need answering. Thousands of souls cross the threshold to ask her their most coveted questions in exchange for a glimpse into the future, a comforting hand to guide them, a way through the uncertain.

It’s absolute bullshit, but you don’t go to Azi’s for fortunes whispered across jewel scattered tables. The jewels are fake, of course. Azi isn’t as stupid as to allow that much power on the table, but the nulls don’t need to know that, and most of the Radiants who visit the secret-collector of the Green Dragons can’t tell which jewels are real and which aren’t.

The velvet curtain opens, sweet vapor drifting out like fog. Azi sticks her head out, her silver hair braided over a shoulder. Her ice-gray eyes flicker to the man waiting on her and he stands, rubbing his hands against his wrinkled pants. Her attention flickers away from him and lands on you, her brows rising as she assesses you, crows feet intensifying as she squints.

“You wait,” she says to the man who begins to head toward the back. His mouth drops open, crestfallen as she looks at you with a frown. “Come on.”

The man sputters but Azi silences him with a sharp look and he sits down immediately. You don’t blame him, the older woman’s gaze can cut diamond. It’s hard to tell how old Azi really is. Lines by her eyes crinkle in the low light when she scrutinizes you in the hazy backroom where she does her readings, but her skin is otherwise flawless. Her cheekbones are angular, her face all shadows and edges in the low lighting of the room. Some of it is cosmetic, shadow applied to her brow bones to make her seem intimidating.

Azi doesn’t need the dim room, sharp features or fake jewels scattered across a linen-covered table to be intimidating. She fills the room with her energy, letting it radiate around her as she takes a seat and leans back, drinking you in as she taps a ringed finger on the table.

“Well?” she prompts. “I have clients, as you saw.”

Instead of answering her, you lean back in the seat and look around the room. It’s been a few months since you’ve visited Azi but the den looks mostly the same. Deep purples and reds, glittering beads hanging from the ceiling to cast refracted light on the walls, candles that provide very little light flickering atop every covered surface and shelf in the room except the table between you.

Behind her is a swath of crushed velvet curtains. They pull against a hidden, open hallway, the air current sucking them in. You wonder if she knows it gives away where two jeweled guards hide, but you’re unconcerned. Azi works for Jimin and though you’re not her favorite patron, it’s better for her to have the favor of someone Jimin’s fond of.

“You do know I can’t actually see the future, right?” she sighs. “You’ll have to tell me why you’re here if you want an answer.”

“Just taking it in, Azi. It’s been a while.”

“Nothing here changes. Spit it out.”

She’s cagey. Unusual for someone normally cool and unbothered. You file that away for later, intending to find out why your presence has visibly disturbed her.

“The leader of the Black Lotus,” you offer, gauging her reaction as you ask. “What is he?”

Silence. There is a flicker of confusion in her eyes and her mouth twitches before she schools her features and shakes her head, relaxing her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve met him once or twice and I know he’s recently had an interest in some Green Dragon business.”

“What Green Dragon business?”

“Ask Jimin.”

“Perhaps I will.”

She smirks. “If you could, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I just missed your presence,” you sigh. You lean your head to the side, cracking your neck, momentarily distracted by the satisfied pop in your left shoulder. You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, feeling the brief respite in your tight joints before you open them to see her staring at you intently. “I just want to know what kind of Chaotic he is.”

“Don’t know. Keeps it close, I hear. Some say he’s radiated at opal in front of them, others say tourmaline.”

“Chaotics don’t radiate at multiple colors like Radiants.” She lifts a shoulder, hand poking a jewel absently on her table. It’s one of the fakes, but you can feel the buzz of her sapphires on her rings and wrist. It slides under your skin like an itch you can’t get to. “What do you want for it?”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “I don’t have any information to trade.”

You think about seizing the sapphires on her hands. You could do it if you wanted. Could reach out mentally and seize control of her jewels and drag her over the threshold to hell. But Azi thinks you sit at emerald and thinks she holds the power in your Jewel Caste dynamic, so you let her think that, letting your frustration coil like a snake in the grass.

“You have a tell when I offer something you can use.” You reach into your pocket and pull out the wad of cash that Jimin gave you at Montana. It hurts to throw it on the table, thinking of all the things that you could use it for instead of this. “I don’t need change.”

She debates. Looks at the cash and then you before shaking her head. “I’ll give you the single thing I know in exchange for a single favor at my time, place and discretion.”

“No.”

“Then no deal.”

“I’m not pledging myself in service to you without knowing what the deal is or the risk. We aren’t friends, I don’t do you favors. We make even trades. A placement on the caste isn’t equal to any favor any time.”

“I’m not offering you the color of his caste. I don’t know it, but I know something that might lead you there.”

“Take the money.”

“No.”

Fighting the urge to drop into her sapphires and give them a tug is difficult. Your instinct to strong arm her and make it hurt for what you want is so strong that you almost do it. But patience and playing your cards close to your chest is a new, learned instinct. It’s pride that makes you want to show her force. But you know the moment you do it, your secret is hers to sell.

It’s an uneven trade. A piece of information that might help you with no indication before agreeing what it’s actually worth. Your favor at any time and any place is quantifiable as a limitless reward for what she knows. If you agree and she tells you something easily discoverable, you’ll be more the fool for it.

Azi has been nervous, though. Her energy vibrates high, ready to launch if she needs it, and the two men behind the curtain are shifting back and forth, listening. You can’t tell if she’s nervous to see you or nervous to ask you for the favor. It’s possible that it’s both, but the queen of secret selling asking you for an unnamed and undated favor is a desperate ask in her position.

She’s in trouble of some sort, you’re sure. Still, you pick the cash up off the table and shove it back into your pocket, relieved that you can keep a hand on it.

“Limitations,” you tell her and she glowers, opening her mouth to speak but you cut her off. “No murders and nothing that could directly harm Jimin.” You stretch your hand over the table. “Square?”

Azi hesitates, rolling the offer around as she works her jaw. She’s irritated, but she leans forward and grasps your hand. Hers are soft and strong against your callused fingers. “Square.”

Dropping her hand you sit back in the chair. “Spit it out.”

“The leader of the Black Lotus calls himself Agust-”

“Azi, I fucking swear-”

“But it isn’t his real name. His real name is Yoongi.”

Yoongi. A softer name than you expect, yet it somehow fits him. A man hard at the edges and maybe a little sofer on the inside. Pretty, but lethal. It certainly suits him better than Agust, but unless his name is his most prized possession, it doesn’t do you much good.

“How valuable is the name?”

“Jimin doesn’t know it.”

“Has Jimin asked you for it?” A nod. Huh. “And you didn’t ask him for a favor?” A shake of her head, which means Azi is under the assumption she needs a favor out of the regulation of the man who holds her leash in the future. “The person you came by the name from?”

“Died in your bar, I believe. Something about a member of the Black Lotus fucking his wife, which wasn’t true.” Azi smirks. “Convenient, isn’t it?”

Yes, you think. A man turning up dead after knowing Agust - Yoongi’s - name at Jimin’s bar where Yoongi’s bannerman had been drinking is unsettling, but you can’t imagine what the specific motive is. Yoongi made it clear he was keeping on Jimin’s good side for something business related and Azi’s confirmation of them working together reinforces that. But why kill a man who knows his name as his new partner’s bar?

Annoyed at Azi and unsettled by your new puzzle, you walk toward Montana for your shift, footsteps heavy. A dying sun chases you all the way to work and vanishes beyond the horizon as you open the door, entering to see Jungkook and Hoseok working in tandem behind the counter. There are a few patrons enjoying drinks, even. Sitting at the newly delivered furniture you ordered on Jimin’s behalf.

In the back corner of the bar in his newly claimed booth, Agust - Yoongi - looks up at you. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and ripped jeans, boots kicked up on the bench across from him. He lounges against the back of the side, eyes shining as he grins at you like the two of you share a secret.

Yoongi. You think of the way the pretty name suits the very pretty man as you ignore him once more, heading to the bar to greet a smiling Hoseok and blushing Jungkook.

Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes off of you for the rest of the night.

THE JEWEL CASTE (from least to most powerful)

Light Caste

Diamond Citrine Aquamarine Jade Rose

Mid Caste

Peridot Topaz Turquoise Ruby Smokey

Dark Caste

Emerald Amethyst Sapphire Garnet Onyx

THE CHAOTIC CASTE (in general, from least to most powerful)

Opal Quartz Tourmaline Carnelian Obsidian

GLOSSARY

Circle - Lower gangs who are not in the Armory Chaotic - Those who vibrate at the frequency of stones outside The Jewel Caste. Some Chaotics vibrate at a higher frequency than Radiants. Dark Radiant - Those who vibrate at the low-colors and high frequencies Jewel Caste - The order of least to most powerful vibrational jewel frequencies Light Radiant - Those who vibrate at the lighter colors and lower frequencies Mid Radiant - Those who vibrate at the mid-colors and medium frequencies Null - Those who don’t vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and cannot radiate Radiant - Those who vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and thus can radiate Unjeweled - A radiant who doesn’t have any jewels on them to help radiate

#yoongi smut #suga smut #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #suga bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #mafia yoongi #minors do not interact #minors dni

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