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wesstars · 28 days

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crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

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“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.”

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus.

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind.

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened.

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out.

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of role, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo.

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch?

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air.

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry.

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted.

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back.

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled.

“Cairo, isn’t it?”

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed.

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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woewriting · 1 month

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amae (ii)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.”

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath.

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back.

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.”

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him.

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together.

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.”

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist.

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you.

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch.

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth.

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him.

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you.

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death.

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house.

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol.

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle.

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you.

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart.

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.”

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn.

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you."

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head.

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol.

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go.

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.”

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs.

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue.

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.”

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow.

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp.

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you.

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth.

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine.

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you.

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh.

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death.

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes.

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse.

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her. Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor.

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you.

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed.

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door.

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms.

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

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ver0nica985 · 3 months

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when your circle small... but yall crazy !!! 😂😂

#shes sooooo spookmaxxing and scarypilled #total drama #tdi #total drama fanart #tdi art #lauren td #lauren total drama #scary girl total drama #im sooo tired guys gn sleeepppp snoresss

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saphirdevil · 4 months

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drawing obey me again and its the trio

#obey me #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #fanart #xavi art #when im in a never draw the character is their proper canon outfits and my opponent is tumblr user saphirdevil #ok gn girls and gals

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stevebabey · 1 year

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question on my lips

kia ora my loves, i'm stuck with writers block on another piece and this is hopefully the cure <3 its all sweetness as usual [established relationship + fluff + 2k words] mucho mwahs as ALWAYS <3!

Steve’s in a bad mood.

Which might be very fair considering the state of the weather outside. Flurries of snow batter against the windows and a hair-raising chill leaks into the panes, painting them in condensation. It’s cold. You don’t want to be caught outside on a night like tonight.

But, somewhere across town, there’s a reservation under Steve’s name that is being wasted. At a pretty restaurant, with 2 too many forks for your taste — but Steve had insisted. Even put on a suit.

And even though Steve has told you he prefers the quieter nights in with just the two of you, he seems quite… miffed that you can’t go anymore.

Maybe not quite a bad mood but… well, it’s a hell of a pout he’s wearing.

Amber drenches the wall of the room, lit by your bedside table lamps — a cozy cocoon that feels worlds away from the blizzard coming down outside. You’re actually quite excited; there’s seldom a comfort like being in Steve’s arms when it’s cold like this. Tangled together in your bed, letting his perpetually blazing heart heat the both of you.

But… he’s still pouting. You’re both unwinding a bit, taking off what you’d managed to put on before the weather took a turn for the worse — but Steve’s stuck, hands in his pockets. He seems to be fumbling with something.

His silence worries you more. Maybe you hadn’t realised how actually upset he was that your plans were cancelled.

He had been mentioning it all week, all month actually- since he’d first made the booking. Some claim that you’d love the food and he loved any occasion to see you all dressed up and drool-worthy— (“Not that that’s not all the time, babe.”)

“Steve?” You say. His head jumps up, hands in his pockets going still. “C’mon, come to bed.”

He softens at your coaxing words. Like the very sound of them, the sweet nature of your words, melts his hardened edges. He nods, tugging off his tie and beginning to work on his belt.

In the meantime, you creep into the bed. It smells like a smattering of something sweet that you know to be Steve’s hairspray, fabric softener, and maybe what you think love might smell like if it had a scent. You sink into it lovingly. Warm. Safe.

Your eyes find him instinctively. Watching, observing, drinking in the sight of your lover soothes you like nothing else. Love spools messily in your chest, like a knotted ball of yarn strewn through your ribs. It aches sweetly. Steve catches you as he’s pulling a pair of sweatpants up his calf.

“You’re staring,” He states plainly, but he’s smiling a bit, lips turned up in the corners. He jumps, hiking his pants up over his hips, and wanders closer.

You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow. Your voice comes out a bit muffled when you speak. “That a crime?”

Steve grins this time. He pushes the covers back, kneeling on the mattress beside you — pausing to push back the hair covering your eyes. He smiles down at you, eyes fond. “If it is, lock me up, baby.”

He pauses, thumb drifting over cheekbone lightly. “I could look at ya all day.”

Something delightful purrs behind your ribs, warm and all-encompassing. Where you would’ve once hidden your face away, this time you just let your glee wash over your face — and let Steve see every second of it. You’re happy. Steve makes you happy.

Steve gives an awed exhale and flops, bouncing down on the mattress beside you. He works the duvet around, bundling up as best he can before his hands begin to search for you. Traversing across the sheets, seeking, til they meet skin. He hums happily. Pulls you into his chest and lets you figure out how you want to wrap around him, like unkempt ivy. He’s warm, as always.

You’re not even trying to sleep yet, either of you, just having a moment huddled up in each other's embrace. The wind whirls loudly outside. You wonder what you’d be doing if your plans had gone through.

“M’sorry,” you say into his chest. It rises and falls with his breath, soothing and constant. “That we couldn’t do dinner. Y’seemed really excited.”

Steve makes a little noise, saying that he agrees. For a moment, your words hang in the air and then he clears his throat, pulling you closer.

“S’okay, not like you can control the weather.” He murmurs his reply. He pulls back to peer down at you with suspicious eyes, a tease on his tongue. “Can you? Because as your boyfriend, I should totally know that, and considering what we’ve seen—“

“Shut up,” you giggle. You poke him in the ribs because you can’t think of a good jibe back.

“Shutting up,” Steve says, before snuggling back closer. There’s another moment of quiet. The window rattles in the absence of words. Steve sighs.

“Just…” He starts. You can already tell he’s got his thinking face on, a little furrow between his brows. “Had some good plans for tonight, is all. Not a big deal.”

“A plan within a plan,” you muse thoughtfully. Steve chuckles. “How layered this night could of been!”

“And instead, you just have to have this, huh?” Steve murmurs, dejection creeping into his voice. Your heart twists. He must’ve planned a lot just to watch it go down the drain.

You pull back from his embrace and catch his eyes, searching his face. Disappointment lingers in his expression and it pushes a pout onto your lips.

“Well, is there anything we can do? That was like your plans?” You ask.

Steve breaks into a grin, giving a chuckle — but a glint in his eyes says he’s grinning for another reason. He stares at you lovingly, eyes dragging up and down your face as he seemingly thinks of his answer. He shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. Nothing we can do tonight.” He says, a tad forlorn. His hand on your back sketches a soft stroke up your spine. You shiver in a good way and Steve speaks again, eyes searching somewhere behind you, imagining something. “Well, not— not the way I want to do this.”

There’s a long pause. At the same moment a soft realisation blooms in your chest and on your face, Steve seems to realise he’s said too much. His eyes widen, the apples of his cheeks turning scarlet.

“Were you gonna—?”

You push back from him, suddenly sitting up in the bed. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, risking bruising the inside of your ribs with each resounding thud. You don’t even mind because… because…

Steve sits up too, wide-eyed expression still on his face. He looks flushed, taken off guard — he clearly hadn’t meant to tell you today. Well, he had meant to tell you today but he wanted to ask you at dinner, on one knee, and then the storm—

“You were gonna ask?” You squeak. A smile wobbles on your face as you try to rein in your reaction, even as joy floods every nerve. “Tonight?”

Steve seems unsure of the right way to answer. “Yes,” He stammers. Then crushes his eyes closed, dropping his eyes closed to curse. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed— I had it all planned! This isn’t—“

Steve pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face. You feel a pang of remorse for ruining your own surprise but it’s completely overshadowed by the rampant happiness. You can’t help yourself for what you say next.

“Yes.”

Steve blinks. “What?” A grin grows on his face, like your own is contagious even as he shakes his head. “I haven’t even asked you yet!”

He’s laughing, a glorious sound, and so are you. You're so full of love you feel stuffed like you’ve just eaten, it fills every crevice of your body. You nod. You think your teeth might be aching with how sweet the boy before you is— pouting and giving away his own surprises.

“I know,” you breathe. “But if- when you do, it’s a yes.”

And you’ve known it before. You have known it long before tonight that yours and Steve’s futures are knitted together so intricately that where one goes, the other follows. Still, knowing it and saying it— the difference steals your breath. You feel like a teenage fool again, back to the first time Steve ever asked you, ‘Be mine?’

Steve sinks into the pillows, deflating into them with a blinding grin. Like he hadn’t been sure up until right then. He giggles. Another awed sound, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“Okay,” he breathes. You sink down too, curling up into him. His warmth feels burning hot now as he pulls you back into his arms, the same as he had a minute ago; this time, you swear your hearts are an inch closer.

“I gotta come up with a whole new plan now, don’t I?” Steve asks, eyes shining as he peers down at you.

You laugh a little bit, delirious, and shake your head. Gathering courage, even as your stomach twists up in the best way.

“Nope. You can… you can ask now, if you really want.”

You hope your voice betrays everything you mean; that he could ask anywhere and you would say still say yes. That it didn’t need to be somewhere fancy, didn’t need to be a big spectacle, he didn’t even need to get on one knee and you would still say yes.

Steve stares down at you, drinking in the sincerity of your expression and he softens impossibly more. Smile lines you adore get scrunched up as he gives a shuddering breathy laugh, punched out of him by his own enormous affection. Christ, he loves you.

His hand raises, cupping your jaw sweetly and he tugs you closer to meet him in the middle. You come home to him, lips meeting lips as he kisses you deeply and maddeningly. There are a thousand sentiments in his kiss, I want to marry you and I love you among them.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against your own. His hand on your jaw rubs soothing, fingers tucking some stray hair behind your ear.

“Got a plan.” He murmurs, a wickedly handsome smile on his face as he taps his temple.

You’ll have to wait, it seems. You think you can stretch your patience a little longer, especially for this. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from your smile.

Another quiet moment. Then, your eyes light up with the recollection of an earlier memory. They skirt across the room and land on their target, Steve’s crumpled pair of slacks on the ground. You recall his fumbling with his hand deep in his pocket.

Steve follows your eye-line and the moment he spots what you’re looking his head whips back.

Steve fixes you with a stern look, a warning that says don’t. You move an inch, more to tease than anything — you don’t want to see anything til he’s the one giving it to you — but you don’t get very far anyway.

“Oh no, you don’t—” Steve’s arms around your middle tighten, pulling you closer as you pretend to reach off into the distance.

He shifts you easily, setting you down into the pillows and then squishing himself atop you. You let out a strange noise, a surprised yelp as Steve lightly crushes you beneath him, a slightly maniacal grin on his pretty mouth. His hair is a mess, cheeks still glowing, and he looks utterly in love.

You wiggle a bit, seeing if you can free a limb. Maybe to pretend to escape, maybe to dig your fingers in and hold him closer. Either way, it’s fruitless.

Somehow, you’re not all the mad with the situation; squished lovingly beneath your hunk of a boyfriend so you don’t go scampering around searching for a- for your engagement ring.

“Can I at least get a kiss?” You ask, knowing he’ll say yes. If there’s one thing, it’s that Steve never denies you a kiss if you ask. His eyes look a tad misty as he looks down at you so so fondly, eyes drawing down to your lips.

He doesn’t disappoint.

#written and edited in the space of today #wapow!#if there’s mistakes! no there’s not!#i’m worried u can’t tell he’s proposing in the beginning so fingers crossed #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #girl what tf do i tag it’s been so long so i’ve posted for the x reader girlies #ruby writes steve #steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #ok i can’t be bothered

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emmastudies · 5 months

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Free Digital Library & Reading Tracker Notion Template

It's Day 5 of the 12 Days of Giving! As someone who always wishes they could read more, I thought a space to store all my owned books, finished books, to read books, etc would be wonderful. This Notion helps to add detailed info to all your books and make organising and planning your reads manageable. Included fun features are built in genre & recommendations collections, and a "reread" suggestion date!

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Check back in each day for a new free item! Hopefully they're all useful and a fun way to end the year 🥰🎁

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saturncodedstarlette · 1 year

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Y/N : You’re the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Gaz : I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Y/N : Absolutely not.

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flowersandbigteeth · 20 days

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Meeting your Alpha in the King's Dungeon

A/N: This was someone's request, but I lost the request, so I'm sorry but here it is!

(Alpha) Riordan x GN Omega Reader

General Summary: You've been summoned to a magical world to soothe beast they call Alpha.

Word count: 6.5K

TW: cozy alpha/omega dynamic, kidnapping to another world, gentle alpha, mention of war and a small bit of violence, alpha/omega smut, nesting, knotting, and biting

You woke, your back cold. This wasn't you bed. You smelled something burning, maybe sage or thyme. It smelled herbal.

“Open your eyes, pretty, I know you're awake,” a nasally voice said.

Your eyes blinked open, and you squinted at the light. Sitting up, you found yourself in a well-lit room. It looked like a sort of lab with glass vessels filled with brightly colored liquids. Sunlight poured in the large windows. The glass was thick and uneven, making the world outside blurry. It had to be old and crudely cast to look like that.

“Welcome to my world, little omega,” the voice said.

You turned to see an old man in a purple robe, looking at you expectantly. He was rather short but had oddly long fingers. His face was gnarled with wrinkles, and his teeth were jagged and yellow as if they'd been broken.

“Omega?” you murmured, trying to make sense of the place.

You'd gone to bed as you did every night, yet you woke up here. Where was here?

“Where am I?” You asked.

“I'm sure you have many questions,” he chuckled, “but I don't care to answer them. You may not live long enough for it to matter, and I'm short on time.”

“What?” You gasped, instinctively hopping up, but your body was not yours.

The old man waved a gnarled claw, and you rose off the stone slab where he’d laid you and drifted behind him through a heavy wooden door.

“Hey, where the fuck am I? Who are you?” You snapped at him, wriggling, desperate to escape.

It was no use; whatever…magic he'd used on you kept you bobbing aloft just behind him. As he descended steep stone steps, he mumbled to himself.

“I'm sure I've gotten the signature right this time,’ he muttered. “The last specimen’s pheromones were muddled. Theirs is much more pure. It has to work.”

He stopped at a heavy iron door with a guard beside it holding a pike.

“Help me! This guy is kidnapping me!” you shouted to him.

The guard's eyes slid to you for a moment, and you detected the slightest bit of pity.

“Open the damn door!” The old man snarled. “The king will have all our heads if this doesn't work!”

The guard gave you another somber glance before finding a ring of keys on his waist and unlocking the door.

You did not want to go into the dark, smelly place he was taking you, but you floated like a feather on the wind right after him.

Around you, large shadows loomed behind thick bars. Red eyes peered at you from the gloom. It was quiet at first but then…whatever they were started beating at their cages, howling like beasts. You could only see flashes of sharp teeth and claws. Fear silenced you and you only let out a miserable whimper.

“Ah, here we are,” he said, stopping at one cell.

The creature inside roared his outrage at the sound of the old man’s voice.

There was the sickening snap of wood, and what must have been a bunk came flying at the bars.

“Now, now, Riordan,” he clucked. “I have a new toy for you to play with. Don't rip this one to bits this time, hmm? If this works, you'll see sunlight soon.”

The old man, swifter than he looked, opened the gate and tossed you inside. You landed in a pile on the floor and heard the ominous click of the metal lock behind you.

You crab-walked back towards the gate, terrified of what creature he’d trapped you with. Were you to be food? He'd stolen you from your bed just to feed this…thing?

In the dark, you could only see red eyes, glaring at you, set in a massive form. It must have been eight feet tall and two times the width of a linebacker.

“Please, please,” you whimpered. “Don't eat me.”

The creature parted its lips and you could make out massive, sharp teeth. Instead of pouncing on you, it lifted its nose, sniffing the air.

Staring at it, petrified with fear and confusion, you watched its red eyes dim to a soft glowing green…like sunlight filtering through leaves in spring. They were…pretty.

The creature took a heavy step forward, his wide feet emitting a deep thud. He seemed interested in you.

“H-hey,” you stammered. “That's a good…whatever you are…I'm a friend, not food.”

His eyes narrowed on you, and a large hand emerged from the shadows. You held your breath, ready to be torn apart, but he only patted your head, as if you were a kitten.

“Fascinating!” The old man said.

At his voice, the creature growled, then let out a loud roar that sounded more desperate than angry. You shrieked and jumped out of his way as he rushed the door, throwing his shoulder against the bars. A blue light flashed in front of you, and the creature flew back into the far wall, collapsing into a pile with a heavy thunk.

“I think it's worked!” The old man muttered. “He hasn't torn the arms off of the specimen. Further observations are necessary, but I must report this to the King!”

“Hey!” You shouted as he scurried away, careful not to touch the bars. “You can't leave me here!”

The old man ignored you, and with a slam, the heavy metal door swung shut behind him.

Around you, other creatures growled in the darkness, pacing the length of their enclosures. Unsure what to do, you tiptoed towards the shadowy figure slumped against the far wall.

“You okay, big guy?” You asked. “He didn't kill you, did he?”

Even though the creature was terrifying, you felt for him. No wonder he was in a bad mood being locked up in a dark, smelly cage.

He let out a low groan, and you extended a hand, brushing his hair. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you could see he looked more human than monster. His teeth were far too large to be truly human, and the features of his face were too rugged, with harsh lines and a pronounced brow. Still, he wasn't ugly. He had an attractive cut to his jaw, and his hair, though it needed a brushing, was soft and maybe blond. It was hard to tell in the dark.

A heavy hand grabbed your wrist, and you screamed, trying to yank your arm back. It was no use; he was too strong. Was this when he ripped your arm off? You braced for pain, but he only lifted his head and sniffed the inside of your wrist.

“You…smell…amazing,” he said.

His voice was low and rough, as if he hadn't used it in a long time. His eyes opened, and he looked up at you. They still glowed, but the red hadn't returned.

“Y-you can talk?” You gasped.

He let out a chuff devoid of humor.

“I was human…once,” he said. “I can remember now. I used to talk a lot.”

“If you're not human, what are you?” You asked.

“An experiment,” he growled, squeezing your wrist.

You whimpered, and he looked up at your hand, suddenly letting it go. He looked slightly ashamed.

“I'm sorry, I,” he muttered. “I'm nothing but a monster now.”

“Did that old man do this to you?” You asked. “Who is he?”

He tipped his head back against the stone wall behind him.

“The King's chief sorcerer,” he said. “He took us all from the army, injected us with Goddess know what, and we became like this.”

He clutched his head.

“I don't know how long it's been,” he moaned. “For so long, I could only see red, and then you came along.”

His eyes focused on you.

“I'm just a normal person,” you said. “I’m not sure what I could have done.”

He leaned forward, burying his face in your chest.

“Oh!” You squeaked.

“Your scent,” he murmured. “the world becomes clear when I’m near you. You chase the red away.”

His big arms circled you, and he pulled you into his lap, tucking his nose behind your ear. You felt the heat of his breath grazing your skin and shivered in his arms.

“I like you here,” he murmured. “Well, not here…but with me.”

“O-Oh,” you stammered. “Well, just your luck then, huh? Seems I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He let out another dry chuff. It was as if he'd forgotten how to laugh, but he was trying to remember.

“Where are we?” You asked. “I went to bed somewhere else.”

He hummed, thinking as he ran a heavy mitt over your head.

“We must be in the South, near the Capital,” he said.

“But where?” You asked. “I'm from Earth…(Y/C)? Heard of it?”

He shook his head.

“No, this is Swarin,” he said. “I've never heard of Earth or…(Y/C). Is it across the sea? Only pirates go that far.”

“I don't think so,” you said. “The old asshole called me Omega. Do you know what that means?”

At that, he nodded.

“I don't really understand all the alchemy behind it,” he said in a low grumble. “But I'm an Alpha. A monster. And you…are soft and delicate, an Omega. We…are compatible…I think.”

“Compatible?” you hummed.

“The sorcerer has been looking for Omegas. There aren't any in Swarin. He's brought down samples…but they never did…what you do.”

“What happened to them all? The samples?” You whispered.

He let out a low groan.

“I don't know, but I can guess,” he said. “I only remember screams…and blood.”

His deep voice cracked.

“What I did…” he sniffled. “What have I become? Why won't they destroy me?”

He pressed you to him like a teddy bear, and you felt moisture on your neck where he'd tucked his head.

Your heart raced, but you reached up and rubbed his cheek.

“It's….it's okay,” you said. “That wasn't you. The old man, the sorcerer, did this…you have no control. When I first saw you, you were out of your mind.”

“I would have killed you,” he sobbed.

You patted his head.

“But you didn't,” you said. “I think …I hope it's okay now.”

You both looked up as you heard the rusty squeak of the metal door open.

“This way, your Radiance,” you heard the sorcerer say.

“This better be good, Elias,” another voice grumbled. “God, this place smells like rotting meat.”

“Don't mind that it's the beasts. They tear apart rats for fun. Come, come. This way,” he replied.

A man with a crown appeared next to the sorcerer in front of the cell. He wasn't quite so old but had a white beard and a regal countenance.

“Look, your Radiance,” he said. “See how the beast is soothed? He clutches the specimen like a pet.”

The king looked at the two of you with interest.

“And you have a source for these…Omegas?” He asked.

“Yes, your Radiance!” He said, clicking his long nails together with delight. “I've found a world through the ether filled with Omegas. This is only the first. I can bring many here. Once we pair the Alphas, they will become useful.”

“They’d better be,” the King snarled, obviously annoyed. “This whole project has been a mess from the start. You promised me super soldiers, and what I’ve gotten is uncontrollable monsters. Can the thing speak?”

You frowned at his description of Riordan as a “thing." He was monstrous, yes, but he had been human once- he still had a soul.

“Riordan,” the sorcerer snapped. “Greet your king!”

Riordan let out a low growl that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

The King looked unimpressed.

“If you don’t cooperate, I will take your new pet from you,” Elias hissed. “You want to keep them, don’t you? If you are good, you will not be separated. You’ll have good food and sunlight. You’ll leave this dungeon, but you must speak like a man, not a beast.”

Riordan bared his teeth, but you patted his hand.

“Speak to him, Riordan,” you whispered. “It’s a step forward. You’re not alone now. We’ll figure this out together.”

His jade eyes flicked to you and then back up to the King.

“Your- Your Highness…apologies,” he ground out.

The King smiled and patted Elias on the back.

“Excellent work,” he said. “Secure the beast and bring him to our war camp for a demonstration in the morning.”

He looked a little sickly.

“I can’t spend another moment in this filth,” he grumbled, turning on his heels and marching out of the door.

The sorcerer looked at the two of you hungrily.

“You heard the King,” he said. “Time to return to the surface. Guards! Bring the collars!”

A handful of guards appeared holding two metal collars. One big and one small.

“Go in there and apply them!” He told them, and they all looked horrified at one another. No one moved.

“Go in now,” he snapped, clapping. “you're going to comply, aren't you, Riordan? Because you want to keep the Omega?”

Riordan narrowed his eyes, but you squeezed his hand.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Maybe they'll give us some real food.”

You tried to sound positive. Riordan looked at you, then lowered his head.

“I will comply,” he said.

The guards slowly entered the cell, the one holding the collars first.

“Don't mind the collars,” the sorcerer told you. “They are a good thing. They keep you tied together with an invisible tether so your enemies can't separate you on the battle field.”

“What else do they do?” You asked, not believing the sorcerer for a moment.

“They also have the same energy as the bars,” he said. “If either of you misbehave, you can be punished.”

You looked warily at the soldier holding your collar, but you reasoned that the collar may be easier to escape than the dungeon, so you remained still as he snapped it around your neck. The cold metal was uncomfortable but could be tolerated.

The soldiers were eager to get out of Riordan's way as he rose, stepping heavily towards the gate with you in his arms.

The sorcerer looked pleased.

“Now to the baths,” he said. “You can't perform for the King stinking like you do.”

Riordan gave you an uncertain look, and you nodded just slightly.

“It's okay,” you whispered. “Won't a bath be nice?”

You watched his jaw twitch, but he followed silently behind Elias as he led you past the thick iron door. The baths were across the building you were in. Outside of the dungeon, it was quite nice, with potted plants and paintings of flowering meadows decorating the stone walls. Sun filtered in through leaded glass windows, giving you a glimpse at the land you’d been summoned to. From what you could see, there were more stone buildings with people going about their days.

“You have thirty minutes,” a guard barked sharply, drawing your attention back to the task at hand.

He opened a door, and steam scented like lavender drifted out. The room was tiled with a blue and white motif, with a large blue pool in the center. Riordan set you down, attempting to lift your shirt from your back.

“Hey! I can do that!” you snapped.

His eyes flashed, but not red, a rich gold, and he looked contrite.

“I can’t help it, Omega. My instincts tell me to tend to you.”

You huffed. You weren’t sure what to make of this dynamic, but Riordan seemed bent on caring for you. If it kept the red away, you figured you ought to allow it.

“Fine! Go on, but ask next time.”

You eyed him carefully.

“I’m not used to your size.”

A smirk grew on his lips, and a deep noise rumbled in his chest. It sounded like…a happy cat, but deeper. More of a rumble, like thunder from far away.

“Are you purring?” you ventured.

“I think it is natural to calm my Omega…the wizard told me many things I didn’t understand until now.”

He tugged your shirt from you, then your pants, and paused, his fingers skimming the underwear you wore. Though you weren’t used to being naked in front of a stranger, you couldn’t bathe in your underwear. You leveled him with a stern stare.

“Continue, but don’t get any bright ideas.”

He nodded, slipping the small garments off of you. When you were ready, he dipped you in the hot water, following close behind when he’d removed his own clothes. The second he got settled in the water, he scooped you into his lap and started to scrub you.

“What are you doing now?” you rasped.

Underneath you, you could feel all of his power; the massive muscles, hard planes against your soft skin, and something…large poking you in the back.

“You smell…like strange things. I will wash you, then I will scent you.”

You figured that if he had a better-than-average sense of smell, he would probably be able to smell the cheap soap you used, which was filled with chemicals.

“What does ‘scent you’ mean?” you asked as he lifted your arm.

As the smell of rot from the dungeon washed away, you were suddenly aware of a sweet cinnamony smell coming from Riordan.

“I need to mark my Omega, so others know you’re mine,” he said, seeming proud that he could recall such facts. “It will not hurt.”

“Oh…Okay…”

He was very methodical, making sure every inch of skin was cleaned. When he was satisfied you were spotless, his nose dipped to the crook of your neck, and he purred.

“You smell so good, Omega,” he breathed into your skin.

The thick shaft pressed against your body thickened and hardened, drawing breath from your lungs.

“We need to clean you,” you stammered, swirling around to straddle him.

His cock patted your most sensitive spot, and it took some effort on your part not to look down. He watched you with wide eyes as you carefully scrubbed his hair with the lavender-smelling soap sitting on the rim of the tub. When you rinsed it away, you found he had pretty wheat-colored hair. Scraping it back with your fingers, he looked a bit more tidy, though he needed a trim. He didn’t wait even a minute after you were done helping him scrub the years of dungeon nastiness away, snuggling into your neck, running the spot just under his ear down your arms.

You yelped, surprised at his sudden enthusiasm.

“Riordan!” you squealed, and he looked up, his cheeks ruddy.

“I have to rub my scent glands on you,” he informed you matter-of-factly before diving back in.

You tried to ignore the heat that pooled in your stomach as his cinnamon scent filled your lungs. Your breath drew short, and every sensitive spot on your body perked up under his touch. You weren’t sure if you were compatible with the giant, but your body certainly believed you were. As he rubbed himself against you, his cock gingerly brushed your stomach. Closing your eyes, you desperately tried to think about anything but sex.

Riordan’s head rose suddenly, cocked to the side.

“The guard is back,” he muttered.

A moment later said guard appeared in the door, grimacing.

“Don’t tell me you’re going at it in the bath, fucking beasts.”

“W-we weren’t-” you started to say, but your words were cut off by a growl.

“Don’t shout at my mate,” Riordan grumbled as he scooped you out of the water. Standing at his full height, looking down on the guard you saw the annoying intruder’s eyes widen, and he took an instinctive step back. Clearing his throat, he waved the pile of clothes he held at him.

“Come on,” he tried to assert, his voice cracking. “The King is waiting.”

You quickly dressed in the light cotton pants and loose shirt he’d provided, having to pause for a moment so Riordan could refresh his scent on the new items.

Though you could walk, you found your legs swinging in the air as your Alpha tucked you in the crook of his arm.

“Where are we going?” you whispered to him as the guard led you out of the building.

“We are at war…or we were. To a war camp, I assume.”

Around you, a pleasant, medieval village buzzed with activity. As you passed, people gaped at Riordan’s size. He was at least a foot and a half taller than the tallest among them. Your eyes danced around the archaic scene with wonder. Where had this wizard spirited you off to?

Ahead of you, a shrill grinding noise drew your attention. With five guards on each size manning lever handles the massive gate of the city opened to a sprawling wilderness. An overgrown cobblestone road cut through the forested hills, flowers blooming through the cracks in the stones. Dappled sunlight spotted the forest floor, lighting falling leaves like sparkling emeralds. In Riordan’s arms you felt him suck in a heavy breath.

“Nice to breathe fresh air, huh?” you asked and he smiled.

Despite the collars, this was far preferable to the stinking dungeon. Your body shook with the pleased purr emanate from his chest. Hours passed, marching along the winding trail. You could only assume it was early spring by the crisp, cool air and the early blooming daffodils growing from every spot of sun.

As you turned a corner Riordan grunted and you glanced up to see him frowning.

“What is it?” you whispered.

“I can smell the camp from here. It’s much closer than it used to be…not a good sign.”

You blinked at him.

“Do you think the war has been going on for all the years you’ve been captive?”

He nodded, jaw ticking, as he held you close.

“I smell blood and rotting flesh.”

You swallowed hard, sniffing the air. Your scene of smell was not any better than it had been and all that you caught was Riordan’s cinnomin and cardamom musk. The Omega emerging inside of you had you cuddling your head into his chest. It was hard to believe you were some magical creature, designed to compliment this massive beast, but your body and instincts were already caught up.

His purr soothed your anxiety and you wanted to roll around in his scent. You wouldn’t have liked them under any circumstances, but the longer you bonded with Riordan the more bloodthirsty thoughts about his captors filled your mind.

Freedom, your Omega crooned, Freedom to mate, to nest, to rear his pups.

Before you could catch yourself, you were fisting his shirt, the urge to rearrange it to your liking driving your fingers.

“Soon, Omega,” he purred. “Soon you can make your nest.”

The impatient, emerging Omega huffed at him. He chuckled, allowing himself a moment of amusement before his attention returned to the road ahead. The sounds of metal clanging and shouting soldiers signalled your arrival.

The camp was an ugly, dirty place. Smokey bonfires smothered your breaths and soldiers, some clearly injured, covered in blood scuttled around. Your guard guided the two of you through the hastily erected tents. Some were merely a bit of leather stretched between some odd poles. The one you stopped at was the finest of them all, made with lengths of canvas and gold and silver threads.

“Gold threads at a war camp? A waste,” Riordan scoffed quietly, following your eyes. “Money would be better spent on bandages and rations. The enemy doesn’t care for such indulgences.”

You blinked up at him.

“You know a lot about war?”

His eyes narrowed as he thought.

“I believe I ranked captain when I was taken.”

“Wait here,” the guard ordered before he entered the tent. A moment later the king emerged surrounded by his entourage.

He smiled up at the both of you, not a friendly smile. It was calculating and cool.

“Enjoy the walk, creature?” he asked, his lips carrying a smirk. “Nice to be out in the sun again, isn’t it?”

You felt the growl building in your Alpha’s chest and patted him to calm him. He glanced down at you and you flicked your head just slightly to tell him not to fight this. Instead, he gave the King a half bow, careful not to jostle you.

Pleased, the King smacked his hands together.

“Now is the time to work for your supper,” he announced. “You’ll be accompanying a regiment to flank the enemy in the hills. If you make it back and do as your told, there will be food for your return.”

“We will not be fed now?” you asked. “He will need energy to fight your enemy.”

The King scowled at you and one of his guards slammed his spear into the dirt.

“Learn to show your king proper respect,” he snarled.

You felt Riordan’s arm tighten around you, but he gritted out an apology.

“Please excuse my Omega. They are not used to our ways.”

He set you down, patting your head.

“Stay here where it’s safe. I’ll be back soon.”

The King laughed outloud.

“Oh no, your little Omega will be going with you. I’ll have no mishaps if you go rogue.”

At that Riordan growled.

“It’s too dangerous. They are not a soldier!”

This time the guard rubbed a strange crystal he had around his neck and Riordan spasmed as his collar shocked him.

“Silence creature, you’ll do as your King wills!”

You tugged on his shirt, asking to be picked back up. King’s edict or no, you didn’t want to leave Riordan’s side. He gave you a wary glance before he scooped you back up, panting from the shock.

“Aye, your majesty,” he finally said on a heavy breath.

The King gave Riordan a haughty look, high on the idea that this creature served him, only.

“Escort them to the battlefield!” he announced before returning to the comfort of his tent.

The soldiers around you looked wary, be it from Riordan’s great size or what lay ahead, you couldn’t tell. However, this time you smelled your destination long before you arrived. The scent of death was on the wind.

As you drew closer, the scent wound around the sound of screaming and metal clanging. In either realm, you’d never seen a battle before and it was nothing like the movies. All of the parts were there, dead bodies, swords, shields, sweating soldiers, but it was all so much more. At the back, some captain shouted orders, but nothing about this seemed orderly. The soldiers had long broken whatever formation they had been in and it was clear the enemy had them pressed.

“This is no good. The King will be overtaken by nightfall,” Riordan whispered to you.

The captain seemed acutely aware of this fact, a bit of hope in his expression when Riordan appeared.

“Into the fray beast!” he shouted. “Drive them back or we’ll all be skewered!”

Needing his hands, Riordan reluctantly put you down.

“Stay close, Omega,” he murmured, his large jaw setting.

Your heart pattered in your chest, holding on the the back of his shirt as he waded into the bloody mess. Enemies flew at him swords raised, but he threw them back with little more than a wave of his arm. You tried to stifle your screams, lest he be distracted, shuffling behind him. The enemy was thick, bearing down on the two of you from seeming every direction.

You jerked a dagger loose from one of the bodies you past, swinging it at a soldier who’d gotten too close.

The enemy’s face was hidden by silver armor carrying a massive sword. A desperate scream emerged from your chest as he bore down on you with the sharp end of the blade. Riordan turned to come to your rescue, but it was too late. The sword made contact with the collar around your neck, knocking you sideways. Riordan roared, grabbing the soldier and ripping his sword arm off. You gasped in the bloody mud of the battlefield, prepared to meet you maker. Only, you didn’t die…in fact, you weren’t hurt at all. The collar around your neck slipped off you, sliced clean in half.

Free, you sat up, eyes wide with confusion. Riordan, however, was quick and sharp, prying the sword from the disembodied arm’s grasp.

“Elven metal,” he gasped, green eyes glowing.

Before you could question him, you’d been tossed over his shoulder and he made a B-line to the forest’s edge. In the chaos, your guards hadn’t even noticed, busy fighting back the enemy the best they good. As soon as you were safely past the treeline, he turned the sword, which looked like little more than a cooking knife in his hand, to his own neck. The collar popped off with little trouble and Riordan massaged the sore skin where he’d been burned.

“What now?” you gasped, still eyeing the battle behind you with concern.

“Now we run,” he announced.

Before you could respond, he picked you back up and sprinted into the forest.

“Where are we going?” you asked as trees flew by.

“The mountains, it ought to be safe there.”

There was little you could do but hold on tight and peek over his shoulder to be sure you weren’t followed. You must have dozed off, because you woke in a strange place…on a bed. The sheets were itchy wool, but warm enough. In fact, you were quite warm. Blinking you looked around. A cheery fire roared in a stone fireplace and the scent of the stew boiling in a pot filled your lungs. You found yourself in a little cabin. There was only one room, but it came furnished with the bed you were on, a rocking chair, and a small table with a log bench.

“Riordan?” you called, though you were the only person in the room.

A few moments later the door opened. You could see it was snowing outside and a puff of icy air hit your face.

Your alpha brushed snow off his shoulders before he smiled at you.

“You slept a long time Omega,” he chuckled, handing you a pile of what looked like linens.

“What’s this?” you asked. “Where are we?”

“In the mountains.”

You looked down at the pile he’d set on your lap.

“What are these?’

“Some blankets for your nest. They’re not very nice, but I’ll get you better ones soon.”

“Where did they come from?”

“The orc village next door. After I dropped you off here, I went looking for food and stumbled on some very surprised orcs.

They have no great love of humans, so when I explained our situation, they asked if I would join their patrol in exchange for some supplies to get us started. With my size, they see me as one of their own, I suspect.”

“They don’t mind we’re staying in this cabin?”

He shook his head.

“It’s a patrol cabin, we’d be staying in it anyway. We can stay as long as we like, or move into the village if we want.”

He grinned, pleased he could provide for you. Your Omega side purred in your head and without thinking you started organizing the furs and blankets to form a proper nest. It came instinctively to you, where everything ought to go for maximum comfort. While you were busy with that, Riordan shuffled about the cabin, straightening things and finally spooning two bowls of stew for you.

“C’mon Omega,” he said, setting your soup on the table. “You can fuss more with your nest after dinner.”

"Your eyes are still green? I thought you'd go red without me."

His eyebrows jumped as he considered that thought.

"I think with your scent all over me, it held it off. Perhaps it will work even better when I've given you my bite."

Your cheeks warmed at the prospect of his teeth on your neck.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the warm food filled your stomach. After all you’d been through, you felt safe. The cabin was already filled with Riordan’s comforting scent. Belly full and your nest on it’s way to a proper state, your Omega mind turned it’s attention to other matters. Your eyes drifted over Riordan’s strong shoulders, down to his thick hands. You’d always liked hands and his long strong fingers, lined with stiff veins sent heat pooling in your core.

He looked up from his soup suddenly, sniffing the air and giving you a wicked smile.

“Are you ready for me, Omega?” he asked and you didn’t have to wonder what he meant.

Your body already knew. Purring, he abandoned his meal and gently set you in your nest, examining your features closely. Your cheeks burned under his careful inspection and some feral part of you wanted to tear off his clothes.

His green eyes flashed gold and a smug smirk spread across his lips.

“Present yourself to me, Omega,” he purred. “Invite me into your nest.”

Those words in his grumbly bass, flicked a switch inside you. Your logical self slipped into a fog of lust, your instincts telling you to undress. With trembling hands you tugged your shirt over your head, then slipped off your pants, finally your damp underwear went. As nature told you, you scooted to the back of your nest to make room for his big body, then tipped your head to expose your neck to him.

He thundered his approval with a deep growl.

“Sweet little Omega,” he hummed, crawling across the sheets to you like a hungry panther. Your first kiss was soft and sweet, but was soon followed by his greedy mouth, eating you up. Your tongues and teeth clashed. He seemed desperate to taste you, pushing you onto your back to pin you to the bed.

“Let me out,” he growled, his husky demands making your spine arch.

Your most secret place wept for him, smearing your desire across the blankets you’d arranged. You carefully unfastened his pants, his cock bobbing to greet you. Precum dribbled down the length of it and you gave it a curious stroke. It was so big, hot, and ready for you. Under your touch, he hissed in pleasure, egging you on. It seemed impossible that that would fit inside of you, but you wanted to try. You wanted to please him, seduce him, so he’d give you his bite.

The concept echoed in the haze enveloping your mind.

His bite? He’s going to bite me.

You weren’t afraid. You knew in some primordial corner of your consciousness that his bite was good. It was exclusive. With his bite you were his and he was yours.

When your gentle teasing became too much, he flipped you on your stomach, big hand fisting your hair.

“You were made for me, omega, but I won’t force you,” he informed you. “Tell me now. Do you want my bite?”

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering at the pressure on your scalp.

“Be a good Omega and say the words,” he chided.

“Yes, Alpha…I want your bite,” you whispered.

“When we are like this, you will always call me Alpha.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you moaned, body lighting up as you did what was natural to you and submitted.

He let out a possessive chuff and you felt him nudge your legs further apart to accommodate his width. You were already plenty wet, but Riordan needed his scent in your most secret place, spreading his precum on your clenched channel.

His sticky fingers drifted over your body, covering you in his essence. You were his and he needed you to know it.

“All of this is mine,” he hummed in somewhat of a trance, stuffing his fingers into your mouth so you could taste him.

Unable to speak, you whimpered and sucked, the flavor of his spice on your tongue. While the fingers of one hand pushed into your mouth, the other tested your slick tunnel. Your muscles clenched at his intrusion, pleasure and need forcing you to push your hips back to seek your pleasure.

“Good omega,” he purred, pushing another finger inside, “You’re going to take me just fine.”

After thrusting and scissoring until your arms collapsed under you, your face pressed into the pillow and you ass sticking up, you felt the round head of his cock pushing against your core.

“Relax. You can take it.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as he entered you. He was large, extremely large, but your body performed some kind of Omega magic, stretching to accommodate him. He let out a gutteral grunt as he bottomed out inside.

“So tight and hot.”

He gave you one small thrust, to test you.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, alpha!” you wailed into the pillow.

You’d had sex before, but it was nothing like the sense of sheer domination you felt with his massive cock moving in you. Your pleasure was his, your body was his, your mind was his.

“Show me your neck.”

You tipped your head to bare your skin to him. He settled a hand on the spot where your throat and shoulder came together, holding you open for him as he slowly revved up his thrusts. With every ragged drive your mind unwraveled.

Your alpha was fucking you. Your body gave him pleasure. Your cheeks burned with a sense of Omega accomplishment. You’d lived your whole life not knowing that this was what you were made for. Your heady mewls filled the little cabin as he rutted you. He curled his hands around your body, playing with your sex with his fingers. His touch drove you deeper and deeper into madness and you whimpered for more, pleading and begging into the pillow.

He pushed you higher and higher until you were ready to implode. Seeing the time was right, Riordan bared his teeth, sinking them into your neck. It was impossible to tell if he timed it just right to bite as you came or if the bite caused you to cum, but it really didn’t matter. Suddenly you were in the stars, a sensation beyond an orgasm rolling through you along with the heat of your Alpha’s cum spilling into you.

It felt good, and right, and explosive. You let out a yelp as colors sparkled in your vision and pressure built in your channel.

“Wh-what?” you could only stammer.

“Shhh, shhh, Omega, all is well. You’ve taken my knot.”

He rocked the engorged rock into you as he stroked the most pleasurable spot with your fingers. The pressure turned into bliss and you melted into him as he licked the bite on your neck.

“You did so good, taking my bite and my knot,” he purred, calming you. “You are a perfect Omega…so perfect.”

He rolled on his side, smoothly taking you with him so as not to disturb the shaft linking the two of you.

“I’m yours now?” you squeaked, thoughts still scattered.

It was the only thing you could put together.

“Yes, sweet one. You’re mine.”

You let your body relax, his scent perfuming your nest. You were safe, marked, and all was as it should be.

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