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syluses · 3 months ago

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𝄞 bloodhound

𓍯𓂃 hybrid sylus x female reader

(10k wc) ✦ summary: demanding, old, hostile— just a few of the warnings the man at the local shelter gave you before opening its cage. but it doesn’t matter. so long as he can protect you, all else can be forgiven. yet he’s more wolf than dog. more… man than wolf.

✦ content hybrid! sylus, nsfw/smut, hints of violence (not between mc/sylus), tension, kind of enemies to lovers-? he warms up to mc, knotting & adjusting to it, feral behavior, cunnilingus, slight somnophilia (not detailed), hinted age gap (all parties are 18+), possessive behavior, size difference,

✦ sidenote as by popular demand we have the latest installment of the lads hybrid collection 🙂‍↕️ i apologize in advance bc even as a wolf-man creature i made sylus older, because yall already know i love me a good ol’ fashioned dilf. dont ask me what bro is in dog years just know he’s scruffy! anyways do enjoy this lil thing while u wait for the caleb fic which i am busting my ass for :] 💕 ALSO sorry. he’s not feline this time… >_< this is def not my fav piece but i hope some of the girlies will like this one :] i did work hard on it it’s quite long. i gave it plot but tbh the smut is straight up filthy 😖 ig all we have left to do is hybrid rafayel! but that boy’s gonna have to wait lol :,) i do hav an idea for him tho ;D

With every step, it feels as if the walls of your apartment are closing in on you.

By your feet, at the front door you hardly have the coordination to close- blundering with the lock- lay a bouquet. Scattered. Flowers strew themselves across your hall as you kick the clasped bunch with the tip of your heel and glide from room to room, warily ducking into each one with your hand braced in front of your body, ready to beat and thrash and fight for your life.

In your other hand- a note. Crumpled, now. Shaking between your fingers.

You don’t think he’s gotten inside again- it seems the new home security measures you installed have thrown a wrench in his plans- for the moment, at least (although your spare key is still missing)- but you’re not wholly convinced you’re safe, either.

And to be clear, it’s better to be that than sorry: You’ll check each and every cranny of your little flat if it means reclaiming your peace of mind.

Your life is a different story though, as of late; threatened yet not something quite as simple to take back. Living with bated breath is no way to exist- neither with the perpetual looks thrown over your shoulder on the short trek back from the bus, the seemingly harmless creaks at night hurling you whole feet from your bed.

Because of that fear, you can hardly even bear to look down at the tiny paper in your hand to read it.

I loved that outfit on you yesterday babe. Can you blame me for taking a little from your wardrobe? ♡

Strangely, though, your drawer is just as you left it when you slide it from its framework almost fast enough to pop its screws, fearing the worst.

Clothes- your tee shirts, blouses for work and lacy bras, pencil skirts- fling across your bed, yet nothing is… amiss.

That outfit from yesterday.

With a gasp, you twist around to look at your hamper, and-

Sure enough, the lid is open.

✦

“-get a few new ones a week. Gets hard to keep up with ‘em all. All the personalities and quirks- a lot of them won’t even eat their kibble unless you look the other way.”

The cold brick walls and all the sounds bouncing off them (grunts, woofs, and nails against tile) become humdrum as the worker, waving a hand as he talks- rants, really- leads you through the pound.

The fluorescence lighting the place flares, whirs overhead. Everything about the setting is harsh. Obviously, you’re in no danger- but as you trail alongside him, you feel a sense of foreboding in your gut all the same. Like you’re walking into a dungeon.

The colorless walls swallowing up most of your vision make that silly threat seem an ounce realer.

You swallow, head on a swivel- yet not for fear, but sympathy as you pass an assortment of fenced-off pets. Some track you with a snarl. Some with eyes that plead. Still, they all share the undeniable tinge of distrust.

What an awful place, you think to yourself.

…But coming here had a purpose.

Your heels clip against the scratched floor and echo in rounds, a certain emptiness existing around you that seems misaligned with all the noise and sights.

Dogs in their cages— some upfront, teething at the metal, others: cowed to their corners, lying on thin blankets not quite as worse for wear.

To sum it up- creatures sapped of will. Defeated in life.

A distinct sorrow weighs in your chest, even as the employee happily drones on, a half-eaten tuna sandwich in one hand (the other: gesturing emphatically), hardly paying you any attention. To be fair, you’re giving him very little as well.

“-I mean, some don’t even eat at all. Picky things.”

Picky? You question quietly. Or without hunger? Their appetite for cheap, bagged kibble robbed right along with their appetite for life.

Your nails dent into your palm as you clench it.

It’s hard to get a word in edgewise as the man chatters away, but you manage to pile down your need to be polite for long enough to get in a:

Hey, excuse me, I asked what kind of dog you’d recommend for prot—

Clack, clack… Clack.

You come to a pause, dead-center in the walkway. The dull rhythm of his shoes remains where yours doesn’t.

“Heh. We got one a couple of months back who thinks this place is his own damn gourmet restaur-“

When he notices you’re not arm-to-arm, he, too, stops.

“Ma’am?” He turns.

“That one,” you breathe, just vaguely registering as the worker sidles up to you and glances at the cage you approach. The glint in your eye wins his interest.

For once since you entered the building, he shuts his mouth.

When he looks at ‘that one’ in question— a silver shock of fur, immersed in a shadow against the far wall— his eyes almost bulge from his skull.

A sharp laugh.

“Ah, little lady. Don’t wanna bite off more than you can chew, now. See-“

As he falls back into drivel (albeit, you lend an ear, curious now), you eye the pooch.

He looks a little wilder than the rest, a little more weathered, tucked to the corner of his cage but not quite ‘cowering’- no, he’s a touch too big and threatening for it to seem that way. More like… brooding.

…Yet you wonder all the same if that’s what he feels, too. Scared like most if not all of the others.

Your chest stirs again with that wisp of sadness.

If you could, you’d clip their collars to a leash and walk them all home, cramming them into your apartment with no thought and all heart. For reasons- countless reasons (having to do with your tiny home and even tinier wallet)- that’s not possible.

In a place as cold and unfortunate as this, he’d have every reason to be frightened, you think, but when your eyes soften with pity at him, his own narrow.

Thoughtfully, you blink.

As the worker rattles off his minor crimes around the playpen- and the hole he eats through their budget, what with his size- you can’t help but marvel at him.

Concerningly massive. With thick, silvery fur matted in certain areas, patchy with scars in others, and eyes that glow an unnatural shade of red- you can wholeheartedly say you’ve never seen the breed before. Less dog-like and more wolfish.

It warrants a raise of the brow, just what he’s doing here. Did he have an owner before? Was he abandoned by them? Or… was he just pulled from the street?

And if so, how many elephant-sized tranquilizer darts did it take to haul him here?

“So,” he says, stuffing his hand in his pockets, “Honestly, Ma’am, he’s probably not what you’re lookin’ for.” Giving your clacking heels and airy sundress a once-over, he sighs.

“We do have a Samoyed though- he was brought in just yesterday. Super playful. Great personality. Domesticated. He definitely won’t be here for long. Uh… this one here, though,” he snickers. “He’s unpredictable at the best of times. Growls when ya feed him- then growls some more ‘cause he’s still hungry... tsk,” he glances down at his hand, then. Evidently, there’s no mark there, but you think he’s imagining one that could’ve been.

“He’s on the older side, too. Can’t teach him any new tricks. And… big, as you can see. With his temperament, he’d probably tear a hole in your apartment. You, uh, you got an apartment, you said-?”

Right now, you should be thankful for all his advice- at the very least, relieved his chatter has become more meaningful, relaying all the pooch’s unruly habits. Yet you tune it all out, slightly cocking your head at the beast dog- a movement that, if you’re not imagining things, his scruffy one mirrors.

“He’s…”

“Yep. Like I said-“

“Perfect,” you breathe, falling to a crouch.

The man beside you coughs on his own spit. “What-? Uh, little lady, I seriously don’t think— hey, watch the hands! Don’t stick ‘em through!”

“-How much?”

You manage to pry your gaze from the ominous thing tucked a number of feet into his prison, cloaked and out of the light, to look up at the man. For all of the warnings and, really, defamation made against the animal— to his defense, he doesn’t lunge. Bark. Claw at the bars or slip his snout through to bite the harmless hand you extend in the space there.

No. With a lift of his whiskers, he watches.

Tuna-sandwich blinks. Eyes widening to twice their original size before he scrubs the lower half of his face.

Eventually, he shrugs. Takes a moment to process it.

As he does, you await the price with a hand already dipping inside your purse. I mean, you hope not to spend a small fortune during this outing- but it’s also an investment worth your while. There’s no saying when your stalker will show his face again. If tomorrow he’ll be waiting under your bed or in your closet for your return- hell, right now, the hackles on your neck are raised as if he could be lurking still.

A word relieves you of worries for naught.

“Nothing.”

…Wait- No, that can’t be right. Nothing? The- your future good boy is worth nothing?

“E-Excuse me?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’d be doing us a favor,” is all he gives as an explanation. “You can have him for free.”

Dumbfounded, snapping your head back to the cage, you’re met with two crimson eyes that look almost hellish as they catch in the shifting fluorescence- and a pass of surprise on its face that appears almost… human.

“But, are you-“

“Haaaaah. Maybe it’s for the better. You’re like his savior, you know,” he comments, sparing a rather indifferent glance to the animal, “he oughta be thankful for you coming in here.”

And there, fucking again- like a blade wedged between your ribs and twisting—

“Too much longer and we would’a had to put him down.”

A squeeze of your heart.

Jaw fluttering shut, that morsel of information wipes the entirety of your hesitance out. Belatedly, you nod, perching your bag above your hip once more, a sense of determination smoothing out your features.

“When can we get him out of this cage?”

You ask without looking his way.

The sound of keys jingling on a ring has the silver-furred creature perking his left ear ever so slightly- a movement you track with curiosity as the beast’s chest swells in. It’s like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s seen countless people just like you filter in and out, pass him by, and ultimately land on a different pet to jailbreak take home.

“I can get you sorted right now,” he quips, helpful, “Just… You might wanna back up.”

Weirdly enough- and despite knowing you really should be cautious with a veritable beast from the local shelter, scarred to no end and skulking- all the tiptoeing around him is endearing in its own right.

He’s a good boy, you’re sure of it. Misunderstood, probably, like the rest of the poor, trembling things here— just in need of a nice, loving home and maybe a scritch or two behind the ear. And you’re positive, if nothing else, he’ll do plenty a good job at keeping your stalker at bay.

It takes a handful of minutes to loop the rope (not leash: rope) around his neck- yet the worker treats it as a pleasant surprise, muttering something about how he’s just a whit more cooperative today.

“Thank you,” you chime a bit breathlessly. Sure, your main goal in coming here was to find a suitable guard dog, but you can’t deny the excitement that flutters within as the gate closes to a now-empty cage, your new pet springing free.

Anticipation thrums in your chest as you eagerly accept the rope from him- “careful,” a snigger- and—

The ground beneath you all but gives way.

“Oh, sir- one more thing! What’s his name!”

He stops for a moment to turn halfway over his shoulder. Long, overgrown nails skittering across the floor as the leash tugs harshly and you’re rapidly propelled out the front door, into sunlight.

However, you do catch him shrugging.

“No clue.”

✦

A number of days pass. Those days drag by with an eagerness to get to know each other that seems only one-sided- and a caution on his end that borders uncanniness.

You buy him a fluffy dog bed (the biggest you could find; he’s bigger still). Quality food, not the rubbish they fed him at the pound. And you give him your patience; small, gentle smiles that you’re not entirely sure an animal can understand— but when you offer out your hand for him to smell, a sign that you mean no harm, he growls and retreats to his corner. He chooses one part of your tiny apartment to hunker down in and outright glares when you get too close.

This is your house.

This… was your house. Maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. As a week moves on, you concede to your bedroom or the sofa and watch him with resignation as he watches you back- and contemplate if you made the right choice.

Does he seriously hate you that bad? How can you make him understand that you don’t harbor any bad intentions for him-? I mean, aren’t animals supposed to have that preternatural kind of instinct anyway? to spot malice?

What is he spotting in you?

Curled up on the couch, you hang your hand off the arm and release the new brush you’d bought days ago. It’s seeming more and more like a useless purchase, yet after countless attempts to bathe and brush him- all for naught- it’s only now starting to settle.

Work was long. That one coworker was grating on your nerves more than usual and you could’ve sworn you heard a second pair of footfalls trailing yours after the bus back- but you can only look over your shoulder so many times without attracting the attention of people who start to wonder if you’re batshit crazy.

But you're not crazy. That- That psychopath is, and his countless notes and uninvited visits to your apartment while you’re gone are all proofs of that.

But that’s changed, now. If your dog hates you, he’ll hate an intruder even more.

You sigh, holding your head in your hands as you lean forward. Like a flower wilted, folded in on itself, too heavy with its withering to support its own weight. You rub your temples when you grudgingly glance up to the wolf-sized beast sulking in the corner.

He stares, of course; buttery light twinkling in imposing, ruby eyes in a way that almost makes him seem tame. Mellow.

Not quite.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to dislike him, or regret taking him off the pound’s hands— for all his stubbornness, the hostility he barely conceals, you know all too well that fear manifests itself in strange ways. Like when you almost snarled at your deskmate today for leaning over your shoulder again to review your work- the proximity too startling to handle. You’re irate. On alert. Scared. And it’s making you do unreasonable things as a way to calcify your soft skin into a protective shell. You start to think that you must be hard: the climate calls for it.

The mutt that broods behind your armchair is the picture of ominous- big and bad and threatening long before his lip even curls in warning. Everything about him screams see, look at my scars- my sharp teeth and nails. Don’t touch me. Don’t hurt me.

Your heart stirs.

Tiredly, you offer a small smile. “You are perfect, you know,” folding your leg over the other as you pat the open space of the couch beside you. It can fit four to six people if they cram together, but you know he’d take up the three cushions beside you if he sprawled out entirely.

He regards you with a microscopic flick of his ears. “Even if you don’t like me, that doesn’t change what I think about you. If you just let me give you a bath… I’ll let you sit on the couch, deal? I’m sure it’ll be comfier than what you got now,” you offer, gesturing harmlessly to the dog bed that lays unused by the table— for this reason or that, perhaps just as a way to show you he’s completely rejecting you, he’s avoided it.

Yes, he’s just a tatterdamelion, forgotten animal, operating out of instinct and whatever feels right.

Yes, you still had to mask your hurt over it.

You sigh. “I mean, I haven’t even thought of a name for you yet. And I’m sorry, I just…” Trailing off, you give your head a small shake and stand to your feet. In your mind, with no small amount of discontent, you realize you’ve reached a watershed here— one that separates your old, normal life from a sense of great uncertainty that rests on the horizon.

And you’re terribly concerned. And tired. But God forbid you start venting to a dog about it.

“Nevermind. Goodnight, boy,” you wave your doubts off dismissively, deliberately leaving the lamplight on lest he get scared in the dark. Sometimes, you think you see eyes staring back in it, too, so you put no judgement on him.

Pattering with heavy, sock-clad feet down the hall, “Sleep tight. Just tell me if you hear anything at the door-“

A labored sigh.

Nails clacking behind you— and for one awful second you fear the worst: You’ve turned your back to a beast.

Your breath hitches with the realization, yet as you swiftly spin around- half prepared to bolt or at the very least shield your head with your vulnerable, just as fleshy arms- you’re mistaken.

There, he stands, as a massive silhouette against the living room light angling into the narrow, dim hall. He’s like a bull in a china shop- monstrous, sharp claws etching lines into the lacquer of the maple wood floor, his tail sending fur gusting behind him as it falls. You become clear of two things, then:

One) you must sweep, and soon. And two)

He’s tilting his head- in an uncannily shrewd way- towards the ajar bathroom door beside you, and as he noses it open and stares at you, it’s with expectance.

Oh, and then three—

When you don’t respond right away, he steps around you and impatiently nudges you in- headstrong as ever- through the bathroom door with a throaty huff.

✦

He smells of strawberry shortcake. Vastly sweeter than what he really is, you think with a wry but endeared smile, when you extend a slow, ever-cautious hand to pet.

To your surprise, he lets you.

Call it a truce between you both. A comfier place for him to crash at for a little more peace of mind on your end.

With all the dirt and dried muck lathered out from his coat (it took an hour or so, and patience- as he flung water and stubbornly tried to readjust in the small tub- lots of it), you’re given the chance to finally see the beauty of his breed.

Chalky white fur, soft as the cashmere sweater stowed in your closet on standby for the chilly autumn weeks ahead. His hair is long, perhaps overdue for a trim- not that you’re deluded enough to believe he’d allow a groomer anywhere near him- and easily covers most of the scarring underneath.

Convincing him it was safe to let you clip his nails was an even harder task than getting him in the bath- but he… cooperated. In a looser sense of the word.

None of your limbs are missing. That’s a small miracle in itself. You’re thankful for the little breakthroughs with your new pet, even if it feels like you’re walking uphill all the while.

He hops up on the sofa beside you. True to your word, you allow it, the springs dipping beneath you both as he settles.

If the couch fell through the floor and onto the one below in a mist of crumbled drywall, you’d have no right to be surprised. None at all.

Trying not to show a fraction of your joy as he sets his head on your lap lest that deter him, you bite back a grin and rest a hand on his back. You avoid needless contact with his head- you get the feeling that’s a iffier place for him. You’d respect it, of course. Your show of patience has been nothing less than outstanding in the past week. Now that you’re finally making headway with him (and yes— his letting you bathe and sit with him is headway), you’re encouraged.

Besides…

Unpredictable. The forbidding advice of the shelter employee rings in your head.

Ahem.

It’s late.

Tomorrow, you’ve another long day of work and second-guessing your surroundings and the people in them. Whether or not you’ll be attacked in your own home by your persistent ex-boyfriend who couldn’t stop meddling with your life even if it meant saving his own.

The doubt, momentarily, is pushed to the back burner.

You smooth your hands through his velvety fur. A strange layer of peace drapes itself over you, warming your chest like a fleece as his back rises and falls, your quiet breaths punctuating his own heaving ones.

“You’re a good boy, you know,” you murmur contentedly as you lay your head back and drift off. A crimson set of eyes regards you carefully, peering up through fine, snowy lashes.

From the barrel of his chest, he lets out a deep rumble like he understands. You know he doesn’t.

Half awake, you weave your fingers along him, “You are. You are a good boy,” as if it’s come as an epiphany to you- made realer as it’s spoken.

Before you let sleep take you entirely, you murmur with a ghost of a grin, teasing despite knowing it’s ridiculous because your words aren’t coherent to him- just a swooning, soft sound to bitten ears—

“Hey… I could tell you didn’t really like Cookie, or Sweetie, or Dragonfruit, but… what about…”

A moment passes. Barely, you register his snout lifting from your thigh.

“Sylus.”

Before dozing off, you’re fairly certain- for his sake- you’d left the lamp on that night.

…But when you wake the next morning to your alarm blaring in the room over, all that lights the living space is the sun streaming through the blinds.

✦

You blink and autumn is in full throttle.

You blink and you’re trading your thin sleep shorts out for pajama pants and slippers- layering your work blouses with wooly cardigans.

Days leap over one another like cards of a rolodex— yours, on your cubicle desk: filled with doodles of the unruly pooch waiting at home for you. Idling over him is all that you can do to ease your mind as anxiety gnaws through.

You worry for him when he’s home alone. Not because you heed the warnings you were once given- ‘he’ll tear a hole in your walls’- but because you care for him, and with that brings the inexplicable want to see him as soon as possible.

Of course, he can’t speak, but he shows in his own way that he misses you too when you’re gone.

Once your shift ends, you do as you did the day before. You quickly take the jacket off your wheely chair and gather your things, waving to the select few coworkers who don’t make you want to rip your hair from the root.

Perhaps if you’re quick enough, you’ll even make it off the bus, to your complex, before the sun sets. You appreciate fall for its colors. Not for the darkness it brings far too early to be comfortable with.

Every alley appears with teeth, in those eerily quiet moments when you make the short trek back home. Cars purr beside you on the congested roads, and despite cursing traffic on the ride to your stop, you’re grateful for it now.

At least more people are out; potential buffers to stave off your crazy ex from putting his hands on you…

Potential witnesses if he does.

Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Every evening you can’t help but wish you could just- take Sylus with you to work. But for so many reasons that’s just not possible.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you breathe out a fine mist and pick up the pace.

You can’t escape dusk from falling- but you can take advantage of the early moments of it right before night comes swinging.

You nervously glance up to the sky, a fiery swatch of orange sat under starry blue, and tell yourself it’s fine.

…It’s fine- and yet you swear on all things holy you can hear boots pacing behind yours—

A gasp. You turn around and get ready to rip your pepper pray from the scabbard that is your pocket- for naught. Emptiness greets you. Sneering and quiet. In the distance, deeper into the city, a car honks. Where you are now though, you’re more or less alone.

You wet your lip where it’s dented from biting. You turn around, and press back on.

It’s okay. You’re almost home. Just a bit further. Within ten minutes you’ll be crooning to your ‘puppy’ and itching behind his ear while he rigidly thumps his tail, closing his eyes indifferently as if he wasn’t hurrying to the door as soon as he heard the lock.

Yes, that’s right. In ten minutes- on the dot (you know because you’re toying with your watch to calm yourself)- you’ll be slipping off your jacket and refilling his water bowl, tossing him scraps as you prepare a nice steak dinner in celebration of your weekend commencing. The fancy wine you’ll pair with it is to help wash it all down and pretend you’re financially better off than you are. Not to help your nerves.

…Even Sylus, the creature who doesn’t understand you even if sometimes it seems he unexplainably does, would be hard-pressed to believe such a feeble lie.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your heels. A dull, monotonous rhythm against pavement, one you relish now because it fills the crisp, silent air.

Then-

Tap tap tap.

Your heels- “Hey baby, wait up- where ya going?”- with the sound of another and the bone-chilling revelation that every suspicion you had was grounded—

You don’t even turn around. You don’t reason with, stick up the bird to, or even hastily shout a fuck off, creep, over your shoulder because you’re not sure you have the luxury to.

By the sounds of it, he’s already close.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on, baby, just let me fuckin’ talk to you!”

-Closer and gaining still.

Fear rattles through you. It goes from zero to one hundred in a breath- yet how to breathe becomes a distant memory as your lungs still. The pulse in your throat drums, and suddenly your cardigan isn’t enough to save you from the ice eating you from the inside out- a cold sweat already forming at your nape.

You’re in such a panic you even forget about the spray in your pocket- the assortment of makeshift blades (keys, pens that grow knives when you click them) tucked in your purse. You have a small arsenal in there. Yet your mind spins.

“Stop-! I haven’t even been able to visit you lately because of that fucking asshole- since when you’d get a new boyfriend, baby? Do you really not care about me anymore? I just wanna talk!”

No. No no no- and new boyfriend? What-? All thought is dashed from your brain, his hollers becoming static. No, just ignore him, it doesn’t matter what nonsense he spouts to try and get you back- you won’t so much as glance behind you. After all he’s done to hurt and twist and outright disgrace you and your home, you don’t think he deserves it.

You break into a sprint. The concrete path pushes beneath you. You feel like you’re running in a dream, you’re so terrified- but you do run. You run like hell. You run like a girl.

You fiddle for the key in your purse, shaking as the door opens and you slam it behind you. His hand almost gets stuck in it, the knob jiggling loudly just a millisecond after you lock it.

As the reality of what could’ve been settles, you’re horrified. Cold in the face.

Sylus is there, leaping over to reach you. You wonder if the fury you catch in his wide ruby eyes is your imagination or reality; if he has the inexplicable knowing- based on your frazzled state or the noise- that something is terribly wrong.

“Sylus-“

You breathe with relief, but you don’t linger. You skitter past to the kitchen for a weapon- a real, proper one. A snarl rips from his throat as you leave him behind you, shouts sounding in the hallway behind your door. He barks at it. Ferocious and lupine. Surely not the make of a dog, of a pet meant for four walls and a roof— no, it’s a separate beast entirely.

Hostile, unpredictable, growly- dangerous. Oh, you’ve no choice but to hope all the labels on his package are true. That he’ll rip your ex-boyfriend a new one if he finds a way in.

Hyperventilating, limbs like jelly, you stagger over. In the short span of time it takes you to turn out the kitchen and down the corridor, you contemplate either opening the door and saying go boy, go— or simply staying back to ‘defend.’

You turn the corner and blanche.

Someone’s in your house- not the creeping, painfully familiar face, however, no- and he’s naked.

And then, everything you’d been working so hard to build with your froward pet over the months, the foundation of trust and patience, the hard-earned truce made between you both… As red eyes flash at you in warning, a hand taking the shaking knife from your own before he opens the door— it all shifts.

The bottom falls through.

The man opens the door, and perhaps you should be thankful that he takes the squabble outside because you’re sure that the blood spraying from your ex-boyfriend’s nose as it breaks would be impossible to scrub from your walls.

✦

“Relax,” he grouses with a tsk, “I’m not gonna bite.”

With split knuckles, a long leg crossed over the other where he sits on your couch, canines just a little too sharp as they catch in the lamplight- that’s hard to believe.

The blade he’d taken from your hands lies on the cushion beside him, and while you don’t make a grab for it, you think he sees the way you eye it- and the knife block in the kitchen- as you clench your fist to keep yourself from fainting while you gawk.

“Y-You’re not my dog.”

One of his brows lifts with amusement- or challenge, perhaps- as you deny the truth laid out before you. It’s impossible. Of course it’s impossible. He-

That can’t be Sylus.

For a moment you believe he’ll agree. Nod his head and say, no, I’m not your dog- I’m a person; because that’s certainly how he looks. But he doesn’t.

“I simply changed forms,” he explains. “Not who I am to you.”

With nothing else to say- no real rebuttal- you can only flounder. “N-No. You’re not Sylus.”

That pulls a soft huff from him, “Oh, kitten,” he grins a tenuous grin, “I’m wounded. And here I thought your kindness had no takebacks. You gave me that name, didn’t you? Sylus.” He sighs, a heavy, affected sound- like this is no more than a theater play to him as he adjusts on your sofa.

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for something else, then… Is Dragonfruit still up for grabs?”

D-Dragonfruit? How does he…

The way he looks at you then, with a lift of his chin as he angles his brow in provocation, a smirk only touching half his mouth- makes you freeze. The little hairs on your nape rise.

…Yet he’s just as scarred as your pet, with the silver hair and the gemstone eyes— massive, over six foot tall and muscular- and the air about him is… familiar. Too much to be comfortable with.

“Y-You’re not-“

Before you can splutter out another denial, he sighs and drops the bravado. He spares the weapon beside him a dismissive glance, stretching one arm across the back of the couch.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. I won’t try to convince you,” he states, “I’ll just let my actions speak for themselves in the course of the next few days.”

…What? The next few days? Does he plan to stay? What- no. No no no! This mysterious, albeit helpful stranger (helpful in the way that he shook your persistent ex from your doorstep- through violent means, of course) can’t seriously think you’ll just let him crash at your place after feeding you such a ridiculous lie. He’s not your dog. He’s- he’s not some werewolf that can shapeshift on a whim- those only exist in fairytales and teenage romance novels.

Not in your tiny apartment.

“N-No. You- you’re crazy. You have to leave. You have to! I’ll- I’ll call the cops!”

Not-Sylus seems unfazed. Perhaps even a little offended at your bluffing: the vehemence is there. But the certainty is not.

Sure, the department wasn’t having your stalker drama- but an intrusion you’re actually witnessing like this can’t be easily ignored. If your crappy ex ends up snitching (you doubt it, what with his involvement)- all the more evidence, right?

He all but rolls his eyes, saying like it’s obvious, perhaps even with a mite of amusement, “I’m on your side, kitten. Don’t get all…” he looks you up and down, and you hate the flutter of your heart that’s more than just fearful— it’s self-conscious. “Hissy now.”

You punch out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re some stranger in my house! Look- I appreciate what you did, okay? I really do,” you start. You have to pause in between to take a breath because God knows you mean the words you say- you’re just inwardly afraid that the fix was only quick, not permanent, and with the sudden disappearance of your dog? Good luck protecting yourself now. Fuck, you don’t even know where he went- maybe he booked it out through the door when you were too distracted by the chaos to notice.

But then… why the hell would he leave? He- He’s never done that until now!

You rub your face and stare at him. The fear lends itself to a distant echo the more you realize you’re no longer in immediate danger. The guy is an unwelcome (and flashy, literally) intruder, yes, one your pooch would waste no time in maiming, but he’s not an active threat... You just have to figure out how to get him to leave.

“But my dog is a dog. Not a human. Not… you.” That you even have to say it out loud is ridiculous.

Even if, the longer you stare, the more you begin to believe it.

The scarred skin, the unmistakable, red eyes, and the somewhat bitten ears- his body weathered from what you suspect to be years of tussling in underground fights (evidently: winning them, not without the cost though)…

And that arrogant little air he carries with him, the one that first endeared you so.

Sylus, it all says.

But no. No- this is insane. Months of being stalked and living like a bug under a microscope have made you worse for wear. Impaired your judgment.

He draws you back to the present with his rumbling voice. “Your dog is more than just some animal,” he huffs. “Don’t tell me after all you’ve experienced with the stalker that you’re… frightened of this side of me? Really? Of all things?” His chuckle is as rich as it is short as he shakes his head.

Frightened? No… that becomes a more distant word. You’re more so stunned than anything else right now as the pieces start to fall in alignment with each other.

“Well, how about this,” he offers at your silence, waving his hand. “Let the week pass. By the end of it, you can decide for yourself if I’m real or truly just a figment of your imagination, sweetheart… You…” he lowers his gaze, then. Uncertain, almost.

“You can even decide if you want me to stay.”

He rubs nothing between his fingers, glancing up again with a pointed brow. “Deal?”

And if you say no? If, on the off chance you’re wrong and you kick him right back to the curb- to a sorry life of abandonment and bloody illegal brawls and God knows what else?

Your mouth wavers. “I- I don’t believe it.”

You do believe it. But it’s crazy.

He almost snorts. “You’d better start. But with that pest taken care of now… I think you’ll catch on quite fast,” he grins. “I’m here for you, kitten. Isn’t that what you wanted me for? Protection? Don’t tell me once I serve my use you’ll throw me out?” He laughs. But then he sighs right after, pursing his lips and looking down to his lap where he makes no effort to adjust the thin blanket that covers his nakedness as it nearly slips.

Headstrong. Cocksure. Bored with his surroundings in a way only mature folk really tend to be. The sage advice of that employee flashes in your mind— ‘he’s on the older side, so naturally he’s a bit grumpy, snippy’; really, you shouldn’t gasp at his temperament but with your current situation it’s a little hard not to when he clips out-

“So? Do we have a deal or not?”

And, well, what’s the harm in giving him your couch for one night?

Or several.

✦

A wintry chill pricks up your neck. Along your arms. Down your limbs where they bundle beneath the covers- to the tips of your toes as you respond with a shiver.

It rattles you in tandem with pleasure.

Upon waking, a few things blitz through your mind too fast to catch. For one, you’ve woken before your alarm- meaning you’ll be miserable in the minutes or hours of consciousness before it actually does go off. Secondly, the bed feels heavier.

…As do your bones.

Third— Sylus is not on the couch like he’s been for the past few months. He’s with you, in the comfort of your own bed, and as the wooly blanket slips down your upper half- leaving you to the cold air- it reveals to you a head between your thighs.

Pried open. One held up for a soft kiss while the other is pinned down— both wet. Sticky with- with you.

You gasp. “Sylus-“

You’ve no time to even rub the sleep from your eyes, big weathered hands anchoring you in place, because he lifts his head from his plate for a millisecond when you try to stop him and does something he hasn’t for months.

He snarls.

“Quiet. I’m eating.”

Protective. Territorial. That isn’t your pussy he eats from, lapping fervently at it as if it wasn’t just a number of hours ago you were hand-feeding him steak cubes from the cutting tray— no, it’s his.

He blocks your hand from interfering when it slips beneath the cover. So when that doesn’t work, you attempt to clamp your legs shut (quavering, you realize, on either side of his lupine face). All your efforts- bogged by sleep and the simple fact that he was leagues stronger- are for naught.

‘Good try’, his eyes seem to tease, though, glittering devilishly at you as his tongue flicks your clit. And then, when you hesitantly lie back and rest a hand in his hair- ‘that’s it, kitten.’

“Good girl,” he practically purrs.

He’s got a big appetite. You’ve known that.

Not as much as you do right now.

“Sylus, wait wait wait,” you moan. Life has thrown so much your way, especially in the past year or so, but you never went belly-up for it. You fought and resisted and squared up.

But right now, half of you almost wants to take him lying down- let him take his fill of you and then pin you down to take some more. Let him have his way with you, whatever that may entail.

But you- You have work tomorrow, and- and responsibilities—

“Hush,” he goes, voice muffled, having some preternatural ability to tell just what you’re thinking. He drifts a hand up your belly to splay over the valley of your breast. Your heart thumps beneath his callous palm like a metronome. Like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds or hours before you need to get up and get ready. Start a day in which you leave home, leave Sylus, and spend the rest of it longing to get back.

“Just take the day off.”

Grudgingly, you lie your head back. It’s… not a great idea, but as your rationale clouds, it seems like your best one.

“O-Okay.”

As a hot, long tongue stripes up your pussy and then his other hand, the one he used to comfort you in his own weird way, slinks downward again- the ceiling becomes too boring to bear.

So you glance down.

He’s handsome as all get out. Really, a couple months ago when he first appeared to you as a human, that was all you could think as days passed and you became grossly aware that you were sharing a confined space with a man. That you had been all along— and your prancing around the apartment half-naked was just one of the countless spectacles he’d seen.

He never pounced, though. Never lunged. Never bit you like a dog or hurt you like a man, even when every bit of his crude exterior screamed hazardous. He was a good boy. And you don’t care what form he takes; he took you as you are, didn’t he? When you were scared of your own shadow and a little snippy because of it. He let you hold the leash to his heart and snarled at anything that came too close- protected you against your piece of crap ex without prompting. Turned your fear into a mellow thing.

Warmth prods at your heart. Loosens your legs up where they clench around his head.

That day at the pound turns in your memory like a spindle.

You could’ve lost him. He- He could’ve been gone forever hadn’t you showed.

…But you did show. For the shitty time you’d been having, Sylus was your one silver lining. You were there for each other as a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold.

Your fingers tug gently on his scalp. Fruity shampoo breathes out from the blanket when you flip it over his head to allow him better access. Nerves eat you from the inside out. You’ve seen the looks, the hungering glances and felt the fingertips that linger in seemingly innocent touches:

Finally experiencing the culmination of his quiet longing is a whole different game, though.

Slurps ring out from your thighs. Your sighing, candied words- spoken in that ridiculous tone reserved only for him- make his ears perk atop his head.

“Good boy,” you breathe. “Y-You’re perfect.”

He rewards your obedience with a finger, thick and delightful. You gasp and arch your back into his hands- or, his one hand- a throaty moan rippling from his open mouth. The several little muscles in his face go lax when you coyly guide him deeper into your cunt and he melts.

“You taste delicious,” he whispers. “Sweet girl. I can-“ a deep, shivering inhale. Not from you- from him. “I can smell how much you want it…. You’re soaked.”

You mewl his name and almost reach full relaxation ‘til you glance back down and, with the covers off, spot where his other hand disappears. He’s naked- not in the boxer briefs and sweatpants you’d bid him goodnight in- and holds his fat, upright cock in his hand.

And his hand is big. Can dwarf every part of you with its hold.

His cock is somehow bigger.

Your heart leaps from your chest as he eyes you. He’s daunting. Every bit intimidating and then some- especially as you realize he won’t be just content with kitten licking your pussy, delicious as it is, and ending the intimate moment right afterward.

Dogs will always take the bowl if you slide them one: and then look to you later for seconds.

Point is- he’s insatiable.

You shiver as raunchy images flash in your brain— rough fingers pinning back your thighs as he rams inside you, setting a relentless pace as he bites and sucks and claims.

In your imagination, he doesn’t pull out when he comes.

…What really takes your breath is the engorged knot at the base of him, though, flushed an impatient red. Fattening by the second.

Cum- not pre- dribbles from the tip. For how long he’s been at this, you don’t know.

“Sylus-!” You mean to shriek it, but you can only manage a whispering scream. “Wait, wait, wait! what do you have in your hand-!“

A grin plays at his lips. Crooked, recalcitrant.

Challenging.

He’s hardly lucid, what with the delicious heat emanating from the slick lips he stuffs a second finger in, to acknowledge your question, so it’s surprising when he pulls back a centimeter to make an answer. Lust grips him tight— the need to fuck and take and mount— but that concerned, cute little bump in your brow is one he wants to smooth.

It’s the least he can do.

“Take a guess,” he sussurates, licking slowly up your inner thigh. Torturing you. “It’ll be in yours soon though, kitten, so get ready.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull.

His response: a low chuckle paired with a moan.

From that point on, even as he suckles expertly at your puffy clit, working you to a sniveling mess as you scream on his fingers, you’re focused entirely on what he’s doing below the blanket. He palms at himself- it’s all he can do to relieve the ache as he wrestles with his fraying self-control- massaging his balls and knot as they throb.

When he withdraws his digits from you, eyes drooping at the cream coating his knuckles before fluttering back at the taste of it— you lie back down and gulp.

Taking work off today is a good idea. You can already think of a few excuses. Not being able to walk properly is one of them. Being unable to get out of bed… Feeling so sore and feverish after he’s fucked you into pyrexia that you can’t even move an inch without being reminded of it.

He straightens. The cover slips off him entirely and he’s tall. Hulking. Painting you in his shadow- but the moonlight brings out the sheer hunger on his face, and you alight with warmth all over again.

You hope he’s primed you. You pray he’s done good to prepare you for what’s to come. Because oh, it’s coming. You know that.

“Now,” he heaves, dragging your legs either side of him as he kneels. You can tell he’s not well off, trying to muster a cocksure grin but failing as he perspires at the temple. “To the good part.”

You frown at that, almost- a pang of hurt weaving through the haze of desire and the smell of your musk on his fingers as he licks them clean again, ever thorough. He notes the flicker of your brow with a thoughtful pause and then a sigh, shaking his head as he grabs your jaw and angles his front down.

He chuckles, and you experience a singular flash of softness when he goes, “Oh, so sensitive… Don’t pout. I thoroughly enjoyed the opening too, kitten.”

You’re shaking. Insides molten with the pure want for him to just- to just do something already. There’s no opportunity to come down from your high because you feel his cock bob against your tummy as he sets himself up, and you burn anew.

Oh, you love him. You really do. He’s endearing in all the places he shouldn’t be. He’s charming and strong and willing to fight for you. So you don’t care if he’s a little old and slow on the uptake when it comes to new tricks- territorial and intimidating. He’s yours.

Eyes half open, you lift your hands to trail from his pecs to his firm, scarred belly. With a hiss, he trembles. Catches your wrists and tuts at you a second later, saying, “It’s better to keep those at your side. Once you get me going, I won’t be easy to stop.”

And you’d be half tempted to tease him some more, you know, but fuck if he isn’t massive. And fuck if you aren’t a little scared for it.

So you clutch the sheets as he drives himself inside with a grunt, and settle below him. You trust he’ll take care of you.

The entrance is, at first, surprisingly smooth, what with the natural lube you’ve provided for him. You let him lift your ass and bend you into a bow-shaped thing so he can hit deeper- and that’s when there’s some turbulence.

Your fingers curl into the cotton fabric. You brace and wait for the sting to subside. When you realize your eyes are clamped shut, though, you open them to see his expression and pall at the sight of him.

He’s gorgeous. Even when he looks like he’s ready to sneeze- brow scrunched and jaw slack as he dragoons himself inside, tormentingly slow- he’s nothing less than charming through your lens. But you’re thankful for the time he gives you to adjust because you need it.

Frankly, if he intends to put his knot inside— and he fucking won’t, there’s just no way— the walls of your pussy need the patience on his end.

For several seconds, Sylus does not breathe. You’re sizzling hot; when he eventually bottoms out, he can’t tell where he starts and you end- all he knows is that it’s gooey and warm and so fucking tight his balls throb. He deliquesces between your thighs. You welcome him, your body like a landing pad.

He supposes, right then, you’ve always been very hospitable.

Sylus curses. “Ngh, you’re tight... Loosen up,” he presses his forehead to yours and hisses out through his teeth. His eyes glitter like rhodolite in the dark. Reverent hands run down your side and clasp your hip. With your slick still coating his lips- tangy sweet, you find, as he presses them to yours- you realize he’s worshipful. The moonlight pouring in the blinds makes his silhouette glow a true blue.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, swiping over your bottom lip with his tongue. “Sweet, and soft. And a very good girl. I’ve got your back. You know that, don’t you?” Then, he draws his hips back and—

Your little bed judders. But the squeak that sounds out is yours as he ruts back inside and your labia brushes with his knot.

He won’t put it inside. He won’t. You’re sure of it. Mutts only do that when they’re mating. Mutts only do that. Sylus is- is so much more than that, and….

“Mmm,” an uncontrollable moan escapes you as he begins to move, like really move, and your eyes roll.

With some difficulty, he continues. “You’re naive. Plucking something like me from its cage. But I admire your bravery, kitten, so— f- uck— let me just show you, hm? How far my loyalty goes?”

Void of words, you nod.

The reindeer-patterned bedsheets aren’t enough. Your hands leave them in favor of Sylus, grasping around his back so tight your fingertips can make out the raised scars there. Planes of muscle flexing with divots with every thrust forward.

Offhandedly, he hits that sweet spot inside you. Your nails dig in by accident, and you say his name, stringing out the syllables in a delightful, dizzying mewl.

The floodgates- they burst open. Something in him gives.

He rams forward, abandoning his restraint altogether as his furry, salt-and-peppered tail whacks the mattress beneath you. That fat swell below his cock teases at your sweltering hole with every pump inside, and Sylus burrows his nose into your sweaty neck to whimper.

You’ve never heard such a noise escape him before. Huffs, grumbles, long, exaggerated sighs he makes whenever he finds a nice spot to lay down (usually on you), as if he pays the rent around here— but never that.

He whines, words strained, “Think you can take my knot? Hah… Nod your head for me, kitten- because I don’t think that I can stop it. I can’t wait any longer. I need you to…” he shudders, “take it.”

One moment you’re nervously glancing down to monitor him- and the next he’s nudging your head back with his nose before crashing his lips to yours. Your eyes widen when he flips you over, presses his chest to your back, and thrusts inside with vigor.

With the new angle, you stretch around him with a mewl, but every bone in your body locks when his hips slam flush to your ass and—

His knot pops inside with a gasp.

Throwing your hands to the strong ones he latches around your midriff, you wail. He clings to you like a limpet, his thighs trembling behind yours as he moans endlessly in your ear. Pointed teeth graze at the nape of your neck. He doesn’t bite- but amidst the warp of pain and a pleasure so intense it gives you vertigo, you distantly realize that he probably wants to.

He holds himself off. Breath hitching as his pelvis claps into you. Euphoria rolls across him, shocks him like a static bolt, every fiber of his being awash with it as his jaw falls open and he succumbs to you.

When he comes, it’s so hard his ears ring.

The walls of your pussy become less hospitable, then, clenching around him so tight as you both cum that for a moment, he can’t even say a word to ease you. He aches inside you- you can feel it. The girth of him twitching as your heat swallows him up with a spasm. His knot takes all thought from your brain. Stuffed inside your poor hole, tumid and veiny.

You feel him coalesce with you, too. Eagerly rutting his seed inside (ensuring it sticks, you realize when he drops a finger to your folds, checking for leakage), releasing rope after rope of hot cum as you go limp and take it.

You offer up a choked mewl when he kisses at your spine, brushing your hair aside just to access your neck where he licks and sucks. You trust Sylus not to get carried away with a bite if he did, to lose out to what he’s been taught.

Evidently, he doesn’t trust himself.

Your fingers dig into his thick, scarred forearm and he sighs behind you- a long, feeble sound. He’s barely able to keep himself draped over you- let alone support your own position beneath him, what with the soup you’ve made of his brain- but he manages.

Silence sprawls out as you attempt to steady your breaths. All that comes in between it is the occasional, wet squelch and the gusting inhales he takes at the column of your neck.

“It… hurts. So good…” he hisses after several beats. Only marginally brought back to reality, you flutter your eyes open and offer a yip back. “You’re doing so well, though… Just-“ He twitches inside you, then, throbbing like a second pulse point, his cock undulating in your walls, greedily taking up all the space.

“Fuck. Stay still, sweet girl,” he grunts, harebrained. His eyes crinkle and close. “I want it all inside. Don’t wanna see so much as a drop escape that perfect, tight pussy. Hah- you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” you quiver back. Speaking is too difficult, you realize a second later, shoving your open mouth into the pillow as you pant for air.

Yet, you can’t help but ask with a slur, “Sylus- when- when will it be over?”

He moans, right in your ear. Goosebumps run up your naked body- all that clothes you.

“It’s too big,” you cry.

“No,” he quips. “It’s just right.”

As if on cue, your cunt gives another squeeze around him, milking him for all he’s worth. In response, he bows his forehead into the crook your shoulder and jaw make to bury a whine, and your mind spins when you register his balls, hanging fat against your ass, lurching. And oh, you’re spilling, you can feel it, beginning to ooze profusely from your puffy lips even as he keeps it plugged; really, even if Sylus wanted to separate from you (he doesn’t), he couldn’t.

There’s nothing in him that wants the distance. The idea of self-autonomy. The idea of independence. No- he’s all yours.

“We’ll wait it out,” he breathes. Coasting a hand along your belly in an effort to placate you. He knows it can’t be easy for you. But the world— that stupid, irksome ex-boyfriend of yours— needs to understand where your heart belongs. There’s no better way to show that than to demonstrate it first with the body.

And you—

(Bitten by his branding kiss, supple skin covered with the divots of his teeth, your belly full of his veritable seed-)

Well. Nobody should look at you, he decides in his spirit right then, and come to any other conclusion but the one that you’re his.

Unmistakably, irrevocably, his.

“It’ll subside soon enough,” he soothes with a peck to your throat, a surprisingly chaste move. He loops his arms around your waist again and carefully- mindful not to exacerbate the heady ache- maneuvers on his side, pulling your back to his front. He whispers at your ear, “So long as you don’t move or stir me up, we’ll be fine.”

Yet, a set of canines brush at your jugular, and again- there’s that inkling, this time in better clarity, that passes your conscience. You know he wants to bite. To mark. To claim. You know it and have the vague idea of all it entails, yet he… won’t.

With a frown, cursing as you turn ever so slightly and his fat knot shifts inside you, you hazily meet his eyes.

His are practically glowing, laying heavy on you. Charting across your face the moment they make contact, observing every brief flicker of your expression to try and assign a feeling— happiness, he hopes, contentedness— to it. His lashes totter and you burn with shame when a lewd suck rings between your legs, his cock wet all the way down to the slight plush of his abdomen.

You don’t mean to pout, “why won’t you-“

“Not yet, Kitten,” he scolds. Trying to swallow down a pit of self-consciousness in your throat, you murmur, “What, do you not want me?” Sylus huffs as if offended. His eyes drag from your lips to your searching eyes.

“Really, kitten? …What, should I give you an equally stupid answer?”

Oh, you’d tug his tail if you had the luxury of moving right now-

“Of course I want you. Can’t you tell?” He sighs, then, burrowing his nose into your neck almost to hide. His ears droop along his head, donning a relaxed look.

“So. Did you like it..?”

“Y-Yeah…” you murmur, carefully looping a hand back to stroke behind his fuzzy ears. “But, I just… I thought you’d really do it, I thought you’d really tie us together-“

He chuckles richly. “We’re already tied together, kitten,” peppering another kiss below your jaw, licking appreciatively at the sweat that clings to soft skin. “I’ve belonged to you for some time now, haven’t I?”

Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s right.

“I- I guess so. Yeah.”

“So no more whining,” he lifts his chin to sample your lips, this time- his knot still throbbing white-hot and insistently inside you (albeit the ache is lessening)- eyes lidded as he conveys his affections.

“I’ll do it when we’re both ready. When…” He pauses to swallow.

In that short frame of time before he next speaks, you’re drawn to all his scarring. The faded ligature marks around his neck, the seemingly permanent gnashes along his body (which was a touch too lean before you familiarized him with good food). The nip taken from one of the ears sat atop his silvery, mussed locks. In that moment, you don’t see the misshapen, loveless thing he was beaten into— but rather the softness he worked to regain for you.

“When I know it’s manageable.”

If he feels unsure of himself- whether he can remain… civil, for lack of a better word, amidst the fervent haze that a mark would bring about— then you suppose you could wait for a bit longer.

“Okay,” you murmur with a faint, understanding smile, caressing one half of his face dotingly. You tilt your head slightly to plant a firm, benevolent kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“But you’ll always be a good boy to me, okay? I trust you. I told you before- you’re perfect-“ Rather roughly, he noses your head back into the pillow, readjusting his iron hold around you as he grumbles into your hair.

“…Hush. Now close your eyes and go back to bed. I’ll tell you when it’s ready to pull out.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

#sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads smut #sylus x reader smut #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #hybrid #syluses #‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 #i feel like i hate this #but at the same time…#hard to hate sylus knot idk

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humanjarvis · 2 months ago

Text

alternative medicine

synopsis: after a tough mission, you stop by zayne’s house for a checkup. but caleb thinks you should’ve come to him.

tags: condescending jealous dom caleb, stubborn reader but justified, friendly zayne cameo, caleb’s got a weird scent thing, bickering, massage, groping, cockwarming, riding (forced), non pip-squeak pet names (baby & princess), manhandling, biting, marking, boob slapping, hair pulling, rough…not sex?

pairing: caleb x fem reader/mc

word count: 2.2k

a/n: yall didn’t think i could still write dom caleb did u. maybe i can’t and this sucks. anyway i have turned the wholesome caleb text above into a monstrosity. if ur partner ever gets jealous when u go to the doctor irl u should ditch them immediately

The blare of a car horn outside your bedroom window rouses you from a deep sleep.

Late morning sunlight greets you as you blink your eyes open, surveying the mess you’d left your room in when you’d flopped into bed last night. Clothes, gear, and bags strewn all over the floor…yesterday’s mission had really taken a lot out of you.

And when you try to sit up on the mattress, you find it took even more than you thought.

Because your body hurts. Stiffness and soreness in every muscle, to the point where every movement has your limbs screaming in pain. Even your worst period cramps couldn’t compare to the army of cells trying to tear themselves apart in your body right now.

You’d really overdone it.

Staring at the ceiling, trying not to breathe too hard in case that hurts, too, you rack your brain for options.

Back to sleep? Back to sleep would be good. Would be great, if you didn’t have plans with Caleb tonight. And flaking out this late would only make him worry.

Power through it? Maybe. But as you try to rise again, a sharp burn in your abdomen has you gasping and crashing back down. Maybe not.

Medicine? The sensible choice. But you’d been so busy with work lately that you hadn’t been to the pharmacy in ages, and everything you had that might have helped you was expired.

Lucky for you, you have friends in high places.

“Ow,” you groan, wincing at the sudden pressure on your neck. “Yes, it hurts when you touch there.”

“As I warned you it might,” Zayne replies smartly. “Who was it that requested this exam, again?”

“Sorry,” you grumble, lips tugging into a deep frown. “You’re using your free time to see me, I know. I’ll be quiet.”

Your friend in a high place was off work today, you’d learned when you texted him earlier. And while you’d been more than happy to leave him in peace and let him enjoy his day, when he’d learned of your condition, he’d all but insisted you come over for treatment.

So with gritted teeth, protesting limbs, and a quick stop to a nearby coffee shop, you’d made the short trip to his neighborhood. When you’d sucked up the pain and knocked on his door, he’d welcomed you with open arms, especially when he saw the milk tea you’d brought as compensation.

“You don’t work for the rest of the week, correct?” Zayne asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Nope. We had it so rough yesterday, Jenna gave everyone a long weekend. I’m free to writhe around in agony ‘til Monday,” you answer, grimacing as he checks your forearms.

“No need. You have a moderate case of overexertion—which might feel agonizing, but it’s nothing simple painkillers can’t fix,” he decides, stepping away to rummage through a cabinet.

“Here, take these,” he says, holding out a familiar bottle of medicine. “One pill every six hours until the pain stops. You can keep them for future use, but let me know when you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, Dr. Zayne,” you sing, sliding down from his bar stool to give him a friendly hug. As his large hand pats your back, you breathe in his scent: clean and light, with a hint of jasmine. “What would I do without you?”

As you swing open your apartment door and flick on the main light, a hulking figure startles you much less than it should.

Freshly showered and in his nightclothes, Caleb is already inside, flipping through a book as he lounges on your armchair. An hour early, but what did you expect, coming from him?

“Hello to you, too,” you greet him wryly. “Of course you can come in. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“Well, this is my second home. Would be my first, if you’d let me sleep on the couch,” he quips, a boyish grin lighting up his face as he reaches you in four long strides. “Sorry for bein’ so early, pip-squeak. I just couldn’t wait to see you.”

“Mm, I missed you too,” you admit, standing on your tiptoes to give him a chaste peck. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day—I’m just so tired,” you whine, falling into him dramatically.

A half-second after he catches you, Caleb falters. “Did you go to a cafe today?” he asks hesitantly. “You smell different.”

“…No?” you blink slowly, staring up at him in confusion. “I got some milk tea earlier, but I only went through the drive-thru. What do I smell like?”

“Like jasmine,” he frowns, scanning you with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Oh, that. I said I was tired, right? It’s because of my mission yesterday. I could barely move when I woke up, so I went to see Zayne earlier. You know he loves jasmine stuff—his house smells like it a little, too. Anyway, he gave me some medicine for the soreness. I’ll probably take some before we go to bed,” you explain, fishing the pill bottle out of your purse and rattling it in the air.

“His house?” Caleb asks, voice strained with alarm.

“What?”

“You saw Zayne, but not at his office. You went to his house for medicine?”

“Uh, yeah,” you shrug simply, leaving his embrace to stand up straight. “He was off today.”

On Caleb’s face is a mix of disbelief, betrayal, and envy. But you, too busy fiddling with the pill bottle, are too distracted to notice.

When you look up again, his only emotion is cool, confident resolve.

“Alright then, pip-squeak,” he cheers with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “We gonna watch the movie, or would you rather mess with that bottle all night?”

Your movie night starts off slow, normal, with all the whispered jokes and casual touches of the ones before.

So when Caleb puts more pressure where his hand rests on your shoulder, you think nothing of it, at first.

But when that hand starts groping and squeezing, fondling your soft flesh under the thin fabric of your shirt, you swivel your head and eye him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Just givin’ you a massage, pip-squeak,” he grins, his murmur barely audible over the gunfire on screen. “You’re still sore, right? Let me help you out.”

Unconvinced, you scrutinize him until his innocent smile dissolves your willpower. “Okay,” you say warily, turning back to face the screen as large hands caress your body. “Thank you. But don’t distract me—this is the good part.”

***

The whole third act of the movie passes, but Caleb never stops. Your shoulders, arms, stomach, hips—every part of you he can reach, pliant under his eager touch.

And you can’t focus.

It’s when his wandering hands greedily squeeze the fat of your breasts that you pause the movie with a choked gasp.

“You don’t have to…I’m not sore there,” you chide, cheeks flaming from embarrassment and something more.

“Hm? Is it not helping? With the way you gasped just now, I’d think it felt really good,” he mocks, leaning in to tease you up close.

“It’s not bad. You’re just…being thorough,” you grumble, retreating from his advance.

“More thorough than Zayne was earlier, I hope,” he shoots back bitterly, and it all clicks into place.

Scoffing, you turn to face him fully, making his hands fall to your sides. “You can’t be serious. Of all the things to be jealous of—”

“I’m jealous that my girlfriend would go to another guy’s house for help when she has me on speed dial.”

“Oh my god, Caleb, you’re not a doctor! I would’ve called you if I needed a ride home or something, not if I needed medical help.”

“When was the last time you saw a doctor just because you were sore?” he lifts a brow, slowing his movements on your body. “I can help you just like this. You’re feelin’ better since I started, right? I can tell you are. You’re less tense, and you don’t wince when you move anymore. That’s me. Not him.”

He’s not wrong. Since he started his massage, your muscles had relaxed almost miraculously, as if his hands were the antidote to your pain.

You won’t tell him that, of course. Pride and all.

“I’d be perfectly fine with Zayne’s painkillers,” you snap haughtily. “I don’t need you for everything, you know.”

At that, Caleb freezes entirely.

But only for a moment.

“Is that so?” he asks lowly, breath fanning the shell of your ear. There’s a threat in his voice. A promise. Things never ended well when he took that tone with you.

“Wait,” you try to backtrack, nervously bracing your hands against his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, I-I just—”

Before you can plead your case, Caleb hauls you up and into his lap, molding your back to his front with an iron grip.

“I know exactly what you meant, pip-squeak,” he whispers in your ear. “But I thought you’d be tired of me provin’ you wrong by now.”

As you squirm helplessly in his hold, his hands return to your chest, pulling your shirt up to pluck and grope your tender skin. It’s hardly a massage anymore, with how rough he’s being—rolling your nipples under skilled fingers, tugging them until they ache with pleasure. When he cups one breast with merciless ownership, making your flesh spill out between his fingers, you moan and wriggle in his lap, reigniting the burn in your thighs.

“Still hurts?” Caleb asks, laying his head on your shoulder tauntingly.

“N-no, it feels g—”

He cuts you off. “It does, huh?” he pouts with feigned pity. “Poor baby, still so tight…don’t worry, I’ll loosen you up.”

Before you can react, he lifts you slightly to free his hard length from his sweats. Under your skirt, his hand pinches the fat of your ass hard before he slides your soaked panties to the side.

And then slowly, steadily, Caleb lowers you down on his waiting cock, inch by devastating inch.

Your mixed gasps fill the room as you adjust to the feel of each other—you suction his length, he savors your warmth.

“This better, princess?” he grits out, one hand still fondling your breast while the other grips your hip.

“Caleb,” you groan, annoyance and arousal blending together.

He coos in response, pressing a gloating kiss to your hair. “Aw, it is? I know it is.”

Chuckling breathily behind you, he slaps the flesh of your breast with a reverberating smack, and you squeal as your skin ripples. “He didn’t help you like this, right? I hope he didn’t,” he jeers. “Otherwise, I’ll have to pay him a visit.”

Hissing at the lingering sting on your chest, you stomp his foot with your smaller one. “You are so childish! It wasn’t like that.”

“You’re melting around me, baby,” he ignores you, shifting his hips to press deeper into you. “You don’t need those pills, you don’t need him—not while I’m here. I’m the first one you tell. First one you cry to. No one else. Isn’t that right?”

Mewling at the new angle, you shake your head wildly, bringing an arm up to tug at his hair.

Huffing out a laugh, Caleb sinks his teeth into your neck in warning, sucking harshly before lapping at the mark. “No?” he asks, grinding your hips into his so roughly that stars cloud your vision.

“When you're hungry, you call Caleb. When you're thirsty, you call Caleb. When you're happy you call Caleb, when you're sad you call Caleb. And when you’re sick, you still. Call. Caleb,” he finishes, punctuating his last command with three punishing thrusts into you. “Say yes.”

Stubborn as ever, you deny him, still squirming in his grasp. But when he bounces you on top of him, forcing your aching thighs and ass against his swollen base in slick, lewd slaps, you lose the dignity you had left. “Yes!” you squeal in submission, digging your nails into his thighs to ground yourself. “Y-yes, I’ll come to you when I need something. Always. I should’ve this time, I’m sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, it’s like the tension in the room evaporates.

Sighing contentedly, Caleb wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest to lay a kiss on your temple. “I know you are. But it’s okay now, right? Lesson learned for next time.”

“Next time,” you agree dazedly, eyelids drooping as his length still pulses inside you.

“Now, why don’t you pass me the remote? We have a movie to finish.”

The movie ended an hour ago.

But Caleb was far too satisfied watching you doze off on his cock to ruin the moment.

Now, slipping out of your heat with gentle precision, he gathers your sleeping form in his arms, cradling your head to his chest.

You smell like him now. Good.

Carrying you to your bedroom, he lays you down and slips a loose t-shirt over your head before pulling the covers to your chin.

For a moment, he watches you, a serene smile gracing his lips in the moonlight.

And then, he dips a hand into his pocket, fishing out the stolen pill bottle and dropping it in the trash.

2K notes · View notes

rawme-price · 8 days ago

Text

Did...did yall know rattlesnakes can be caught in copulation for an entire day??? Uhm anyways naga!gaz and human!readers first mating season together...

To his credit, kyle is very up front with you about what his season would entail. Made sure to explain the whole process to you, even showing you some videos to make sure you understood (and to watch you squirm)

But nothing could prepare you for when the day actually came. A lazy morning inside kyles den, blankets and pillows curled into a circle to hold the two of you. It was hardly even 3am when his hands started rubbing along your thighs and stomach, long tail curled around and over you at points. "Mm...today the day baby?" You ask sleepily.

"Yeah, gonna fill you up real nice, okay?" Kyle, ever the gentleman, asks even as he pulls down you sleep pants. You spread your legs so he can take out the plug youve been wearing most nights, knowing hed be too desperate to properly stretch you day of.

Kyles tail curls around you tighter when you buck instinctively at his fingers sliding into you, testing the waters. Usually kyle would draw it out and wait until ur begging for him, but he seems just as desperate today. Already lining up one of his cocks with ur entrance. "Hold still for me baby, just gotta- fuck yeah- there we go."

The stretch isnt too bad, considering ur used to taking one, but then kyle reaches down to line up the second and u have to force urself to relax. The stretch is mind-numbing, a sense of fullness that has you teetering on the edge without his moving at all.

Kyle only gives you a moment to adjust before properly wrapping himself around you, a tight embrace as his cocks rock in and out. Each stroke has you fighting not to cum, but kyle isnt much better. He whines against ur neck, licking over ur veins when both cocks finally slide all the way in and *stay* there.

"Hah- shit-" kyle whines, momentarily squeezing your body until you go limp, his cum pulsing hot and heavy inside you "mmm youre perfect, honey. Take me so well."

Thats not nearly the end, no. You stay locked together, his tail coiled over you instinctively as a movie plays on ur laptop. Every half hour or so another spurt of cum will splash into you, making you feel impossibly full. Kyle whispers softly to you the whole time, affectionate as he is during his season.

When he finally pulls out a bit past midnight, a flood of cum follows too. It absolutely drenched ur sheets, covered ur thighs and soaks into kyles scales. He makes a pathetic whines, while you can hardly think with the suddenly release of pressure. What is probably your 14th orgasm washing over you.

After checking that ur okay, kyle hooks his chin over ur shoulder, kisses ur jaw and whispers "so....ready to do that again tomorrow?"

#out of everyone gaz and price are the biggedt cockwarming enjoyers. fight with the wall.#uhh i didnt mention it but his cock totally has some insane ridges on it lol #cod #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz smut

1K notes · View notes

littlelittlebear · 1 month ago

Text

streamer!fan!ellie x stand up comedian!reader

u just told me

want me to fuck u! (wc 4.5k)

you're her favorite, she finds out the feelings mutual.

fem!reader, butch!ellie. this is biblically accurate ellie yall, so shes a big dork. maybe i made her horny. maybe she was already horny. ellie worships the ground you walk on, wants your boobs in her mouth asap

major fluff with tension + eventual smut within this series of one shots!

disclaimer author tried to be funny (if youre funnier im so sorry) and knows nothing of twitch dot com (is it a website ??) (researched for this) also, forgot the us drinking age is 21… just pretend it’s at 18 lol. imagine your comedic delivery to be exactly like uh aubrey plaza meets john mulaney. this becomes very apparent as I straight up mention him

It wasn't a viral gem clip of crowdwork on tiktok that got you here. You were a slow burned sensation, a real, man-made star.

Since performing throughout your early teens, you built a bigger and bigger audience through word of mouth and phone booth posters. Old fuckin’ school!

Known for your dry wit comedy, understated delivery, and deserted social media presence, audiences young and old loved you; laughed with you. Big fucking publications– GQ, Wallstreet, the Times– credited you, amongst a couple of other trending talents, for Gen Z’s rising appreciation for stage performance.

You're adamant against the spotlight, you’re in it for the moment. The thrill. The writing and the payoff of a crowd. But because of your lack of content, fans started posting their favorite clips of your sets, which only widened your viewership. Eventually they started editing you. Just you. Cause baby, you’re hot. A handful of edits blew up and you were Tiktok’s fem of the month.

You caught everyone’s eye, including one @SmellieWilliams, fortified Twitch legend, Ellie.

☆

A feral scream interrupted her stream. Halfway through a Baldur’s Gate playthrough, someone in the chat asked if she’s heard of you.

Ellie held her reddening face in her hands. Her manspread legs, clad in checkered boxers, bounced on their heels as she jokingly sobbed. “No guys, you don’t understand, she’s so fucking hot. Yes, I’m pausing the fuckin’ game! It’s show and tell!” She got up, off screen, and returned with a big glossy poster of you biting your red painted lip with gleaming eyes, mic in hand.

visthirdleg BRUH Y/N DOESNT HAVE MERCH???😭😭

jonathansmirnoff ellie has access to a printer

She cackled at the chat. "I had pinterest and a dream. Look, look! Isn’t she pretty? She's so fuh-lipping pretty, can you believe she’s my age? See, y’all, more evidence that that’s my woman.” She left the frame again– and came back with her phone pulled up and held right up to the camera. Her lockscreen was a photo of her horse, Shimmer (a recurring feature on ellie’s streams). Then, she held her thumb down.

The lockscreen morphed into a very different scene: a tiktok edit. “Shut– shut up and watch. Take notes.” She pseudo-ordered.

The video teased a remix of a sexy R&B song as your eyes prawled over the crowd. Applause quieted. “Thank you everybody... hope y’all liked me tonight.” You drawled, purred. A series of slowed moments of you on stage followed – you throwing your head back in laughter like the rebirth of venus; you biting your lip like the poster; you tossing your hair up. The audio volume lowered back down to the first clip of you. “...because I liked y’all.”

“She’s so–” ellie cut herself off with a guttural moan-scream. The chatbox flew by with reactions. Suddenly, half the screen was obstructed by an audience member’s gift.

yournicknameohbaby

Cheered with $500

yournicknameohbaby feeling’s mutual, big secret tell no one

Ellie choked on her breath. “Hol– holy shit. Oh my God?” She scrambled back onto her gaming chair to get a better look, scrolling through the chat to find your comment. The strings of her black NASA hoodie were tugged tight. “yournicknameohbaby. Thank you. Oh my god, thank you. That is so huge I– guys, I know we do the dino dance for every big gift but I genuinely think it’s not enough–” Ellie stopped, reading. “Feeling’s mutual big se–” She chuckled under her breath at the comment, but that stopped too. yournickname… there’s no way, right? “Wait. Fuckin’ wait.” She raised an exaggerated eyebrow. The chat flew by some more.

sturniowannabe WAIT

lanadeladdisonrae NAAAH AINT NO WAY

porkupiggie fan acc

yournicknameohbaby 🤷‍♀️

Ellie reddened ferociously. “Okay! Haha, I’m gonna go with you being a loaded fan account ‘cause if you're actually her, I will jump out my window! The dino dance is definitely not enough for five hundred gyatt-damn dollars– woah you better not be y/n because I can’t be saying gyatt in front of fine shyt like that, um, so you get to pick what I do, yournicknameohbaby!”

The comments flurried between variations of “TELL HER TO TAKE HER SHIRT OFF” and “PLAY TAKE ON ME!!”

Ellie tsked “Guys, its yournicknameohbaby’s pick.” She turned the chat on slow mode so she could catch your comment.

yournicknameohbaby uhhh free of charge

wait no. tell me your favorite joke of y/n’s

and also! tell me what you like ab her :)) gimme like 5 reasons

Ellie read your comments outloud, chewing on her hoodie string. “But what if she sees this? I'm so freaking scared I’d look so freaky.”

yournicknameohbaby booooooooo

i promise you wouldnt

but okay okay

10 pushups rn

(pussy)

(kidding)

The chat erupted in keyboard smashes and onomatopoeia. Ellie sniggered. “Pfft, okay. I can do that. You made the masses happy.” She took off her hoodie by the back to reveal a white tank top. Re-angling the camera lower, she hunkered down and got into position. Palms and toes parallel to the floor. A glance, a wink, a smile. Then she lowered and lifted herself with ease, counting each one.

Towards the last five she spoke up. “Thank–” A push up. “you,” Another. “yournickname,” A whimper. “oh,” A grunt. “baby.” And a biiiig sigh.

She flopped back onto her gaming chair with a big grin. “Sucker, I would’ve done a hundred push ups for that!”

The chat had been business as usual: rapid fire pace with haha’s, omg’s, and the occasional bark.

yournicknameohbaby yay!! good job

yes and i am the most kind for requiring so few!

Ellie felt giddy. Five-hundred dollars was a lot for her scholar student budget, it meant the world. In her frenzy she’d already texted Joel a screenshot with the caption ‘!!!??!?!?:O :O’.

To which, Joel hearted. Probably busy with his shift at the plant. “Man, you know what, yournickname? I’ma follow you back real quick. Thank you. Can’t say it enough.” Her mouse clicked on your profile, then the follow button.

yournicknameohbaby OH WOAH

COOL YAY

HIII

Ellie turned her hands into a heart. “Cool-yay-hi to you, too! I can’t stop saying thank you. Gosh. Thanks a bunch. So many bunches.” She ran a tattooed hand through her auburn hair, then checked her watch. “Oh fuck, I’ve got class tomorrow, guys. I’ll end here. Get my zees. Love y’all, smell ya later!” She clicked her teeth as she winked with her sign off phrase, and the stream went black.

On her phone, Ellie opened her Paypal app and blinked away surprise as an extra five hundred was in-fucking-deed added to her account.

Whispers

smelliewilliams:

dude. thank u. fuck.

yournicknameohbaby:

hiya. you’re super welcome. shit.

smelliewilliams:

im so sorry i didnt do ur first ask yournickname

AAA I FEEL GUILTY BRO YOU SPENT SM MONEY

ITS JUST THAT THE STREAMS HAVE BEEN A LITTLE TOO FUCKIN LARGE LATELY

so scared someone clips it and it reaches wifey’s feed somehow thats so scawy ong

yournicknameohbaby:

ITS OKAY I PROMISE😭😭😭

uh i get it

so no guilt allowed

ive been a fan like since we were 14 (mb we’re the same age btw)

and ive got Adult Money now so im gonna spend it wisely

on the internet strangers who play games for me.

smelliewilliams:

JFHHFJSBDNSBFBA

ur fun-knee

and cool we’re both 19!!

was lowk worried u were a 4490 year old mega oldie

yournicknameohbaby:

only in spirit

the plot of nosferatu

you’re fun knee too

and hugh moris

smelliewilliams:

wait sorry what

yournicknameohbaby:

fun knee like funny and hugh moris like humorous!!

smelliewilliams:

OOOHHHHHA

HAHSHSHBSHSBAH

SYBAU WHY DIDNT I THINK OF THAT

yournicknameohbaby:

im just too good

youre meant to be sleeping ma’am!

smelliewilliams:

EIGHT I FORGOT

right**

night ohbaby!

yournicknameohbaby:

hah

sleep well!

Ellie was filled with bliss, the bigger number in her bank account shone on her like the sun. Instead of bed, though, she opened Tiktok. Lucky her, the first video on her For You Page was a long clip from your last show. Her jaw dropped, tongue pooled with unswallowed spit.

She’d never seen you in something so overtly hot. For all your shows, you’ve dressed more casually. A loud baby tee and blue jeans, hair down and real pretty. In this clip, though, you were in a tight black tank top, daisy dukes, pink kitten heels, and a Pamela Anderson up-do. Ellie bit her lip. “Fuck.” She muttered, and hastily favorited the Tiktok under a private folder called ‘let me do you y/n l/n'. You stood on stage with a mic, soaking up the spotlight. You barely had to muster energy to rack up stage presence. It eminated from you. Every set was like a casual, albeit one sided conversation. A knee rested atop the tall, black stool all stand up comedians seemed to be supplied with. Laughter from the last joke died down.

“My comedic hero is John Mulaney, because I’m nineteen years old. If I were twenty-nine, my comedic hero would be John Mulaney– because that's still not old enough to be good yet.” Laughter seemed to pour from the audience with every sentence.

“No, no. He's a brilliant comedian and, like everyone, I have also adopted him as my scraggly, misplaced, but ultimately very loving father.” The hint of a smirk grazed your glossed lips.

“Like him, I have a weird audience. I target none of you, yet many has flocked.” You raised a graceful hand toward the diverse, chuckling audience.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way! A specific audience calls for specific jokes. Now I may go on, undefined and independent. Sexualized by the free man instead of a Netflix producer–” The crowd gave a mixed cacophany of ooh’s and guffaws. You grinned like the cat who caught the canar-Ellie. “My career is as liberated as the act of getting out of a one piece, a body suit, in the bathroom. Am I technically free? … Yes. But I am also very vulnerable and cold.” Your genuine, underdone delivery made Ellie snicker.

“I respect a good body suit the way you respect that one guy who's really good at being an asshole? Body suits were clearly invented by someone with no genitals. A Ken doll. Because they always put the snap right where your dignity is meant. You look so good, but you are so mad, as there are three metal prongs trying super hard to be inside you.” Ellie choked on her lip. Thoughts of inside and you ran her brain through.

"Despite this, it's so cool to easily pee. The quick release. Like the little car in Cars who works the pit stop at speed ultimus. The short moments before and after the gate in front of a bullrider’s bull is unlocked. The body suit’s got the ethics of a catch and release program. The cunt is barred and freed! Is what the body suit says. It's also what my girl says when she opens the door for me.” The audience howled but Ellie’s smile vanished. She hit the share button for her group chat with Dina and Jessie so she could express her anguish. “I’m kidding, I dont have a girlfriend–” Ellie sighed in relief and deleted her unintelligible ‘whhwwyy”?!?!’ texts. “--I am in fact a total loser, I get zero vagina. Except I’m a pillow princess, so zero vagina gets me. This is not what was promised. Growing up beautiful and heterosexual, I was constantly told boys would be crawling all over me in college. Except I’m gay now. so that’s not ideal–”

The clip ended, cutting you off, and started to replay. A shocked face, lips parted, eyes wide, reflected back at Ellie from her dimly lit screen.

She texted her groupchat a barrage with the tiktok attached.

stinky 1:48 AM

several things: shes single. im single. so that means we’re literallt married

2nd. loser???? her??? fucking never

a pillow princess. guys wym she has sex without me. please plelslslsls lemme p-low that princess

(get it its like pillow but also plow bc smash hahahah)

ANS. SHES. GAY. GUYS SHE SGAY DGEHS D GAY AAAAA

dina’s wife 1:48 AM

sleep

diznuts 1:48 AM

SHES GAAAYAYAYYAYAY

GO ELS GO

stinky 1:48 AM

FYM GO??

I CANT DO ANTHING W THIS INFORMATION😔

dina’s wife 1:49 AM

sleep

diznuts 1:49 AM

DM HER DUMMY

stinky 1:49 AM

she has nothing to dm :(

diznuts 1:49 AM

go to her show.

dina’s wife 1:49 AM

this is enabling

stinky 1:50 AM

i CANT go to her show

diznuts 1:50 AM

PUSSIO

stinky 1:50 AM

THATS WEIRD DINA

dina’s wife 1:50 AM

stinky 1:50 AM

leep

night guys 🩶

Two days flew by, meshing into one, singular study session. Since exams season started, Ellie limited her streams to once a week instead of her usual, every other-other day set up. Ellie left her essay writing daze with triple the amount of notifications as usual. Brows furrowed, she consulted Twitter, then her tags. Hundreds of mentions under posts with the same thumbnail. You. Specifically, you on a Youtuber’s talk show.

“Now, girl, you’ve been outed.” Said the interviewer, Ellie wasn’t sure what her name was exactly.

“I know. I’m a gay.” You tsked and whined with joking rapor. Your interviewer pouted with you, and giggled.

“I’m interested. Who’s your celebrity need-me-some-a-that?”

You chuckled, a little shocked. “Oh, I like that. Fuck.” You paused to think. Ellie was on the edge of her seat, as far as laying down on her couch goes, antsy for context. “Okay, I don’t like celebrities, actually. I like athletes and streamers.” Ellie’s brow raised. She didn’t dare check the comments.

The interviewer popped her tongue. “Ooh! Tea.”

“Crumpets,” You added with full seriousness. the interviewer cackled. “Erm, man. God this is embarrassing because she’s… like… a fan of me too?” The interviewer and you gabbed and squealed. Ellie didn’t catch it, her ears began to ring.

“Ellie Williams, from Twitch. My actual fucking wife, She was kind of my gay awakening? Especially when she got more, um, butch–”

The clip ended. Then, Ellie’s phone was launched across the room.

☆

dinosellie’s Latest Tweets

deleting everything

11:10 AM • 25/06/2025 • 139k Views

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my body can be found floating in the seattle aquarium, thanks

11:10 AM • 25/06/2025 • 172k Views

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imsososlrry im such. a simpfor youbon main y/nWHATTGF

11:09 AM • 25/06/2025 • 277k Views

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OH OKAY

11:09 AM • 25/06/2025 • 101k Views

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11:09 AM • 25/06/2025 • 115k Views

42k Retweets 28k Notes 80k Likes

She paced around her tiny, tidy, dorm with her hands on her head, using it as a bongo drum.

“You’re not going insane.” She murmured. “This is just… very awesome and terrifying. Oh baby this is fucked–’ A violent gasp shook through her.

That username, yournickname, is too similar to y/n. The timing. The money. The insane amount of money. The ‘feeling is mutual’.

Whispers

smelliewilliams:

yournicknameohbaby:

oh hey!

smelliewilliams:

hooldd on there ohbaby

yournicknameohbaby:

okok im holding

smelliewilliams:

this is weird

OK THIS IS WEIRD

hey.

yournicknameohbaby:

hiya.

smellingwilliams:

are u y/n?

im sorry thats fuckin weird as balls to ask

yournicknameohbaby:

shoot

smelliewilliams:

shoot??!?!??@@?!?!

yournicknameohbaby:

OK FUCK YOU SAW THE CLIP

smelliewilliams:

the clip saw me.

yournicknameohbaby:

hugh moris

smelliewilliams:

DUDE ARE U??

im sorry for calling u dude

ner vous ?

yournicknameohbaby:

it felt weird asf to ask right?

imagine how weird it feels to say yes i am

her

y/n

smelliewilliams:

jesus wait

ARE U FUCKING W ME🤨

u are.

yournicknameohbaby:

time and place (Ellie found herself forgetting how to breathe.)

oh right

we cant send pics on here huh

smelliewilliams:

i dont think so

yournicknameohbaby:

add me on discord

if you wanna

ill turn my cam on and show you

heres my handle

firebuttershoefly

The blood in her veins achieved a strange temperature: both boiling hot and ice cold. On the one hand, she’s meeting you. Seeing your face. Your gorgeous fucking face and your focus all on her. Seeing you after you told the whole internet you want her. On the other hand, she’s fucking meeting you. Speaking to you after she told you (and the other hundred thousand in chat) that she wants you and then some.

Without responding, she added you on discord. After hey and hi were exchanged, the bubbly ringtone spooked her. Without collecting her breath, Ellie clicked answer.

Your camera was already on. You sat comfortably on your desk chair, knees up and covered in–lord have mercy– wooly high socks. A thin, grey t-shirt with a long scooping neckline had fallen off your shoulder. No bra strap obstructed your skin. Black glasses with big lenses sat pristine on your nose. Your mouth broke into a smile. “Ellie?” You asked, sweet voice stripped of comedic timing. You were unlike any state of yourself she’s seen online, comfortable and in sleepwear, but one hundred, billion percent you. Ellie was genuinely shaking. this was worse than stark struck, this was a disease.

“He-ey,” She stammered. “Yeah you’re definitely you.”

You giggled. “u-uh yeah, I am.” In the corner of the frame, she saw your hand tremble and fidget with itself. You were as nervous as she was, Ellie realized. “It’s okay if you don’t want to turn your camera on but I’d, um, like to see you too! We could hangout, maybe. If you’d like. I’d like to. Your profile picture of Shimmer eating pizza is cool too.”

Ellie wiped her sweaty palms on the couch seat. “Hah, yeah we can totally hangout. By the way, If I ever try to be funny, I’m so sorry.” You giggled, then before Ellie could think twice or check how she looked, she clicked camera on.

She saw the shift on your face when you saw her. Lips wetted. Eyes shone. “Woah! Hey there, Smellie!”

Ellie quickly covered her face with a hand. “Oh my God, no– you and Joel are the only people who aren’t allowed to call me that!” She groaned bashfully. “Sorry, Joel’s my–”

“I know who Joel is, silly. I’ve watched almost every stream since you started. I think my favorite one ever is from years ago when you two went to that big NASA exhibit. It’s a total comfort watch.” You tucked that same shaking hand behind your neck, massaging it. Ellie made impish noises internally. She almost wishes this was a clip pulled online so she could find edits of it, but then your shirt fell the teensiest more. “Ellie?” you asked, head tilted. Nope, No. a real conversation with you blows edits out of the water.

“Sorry, I’m here! I… lagged. That’s crazy, wow. I’m just wrapping my head around you knowing who I am at all.”

“Me too!” You nearly squealed. “Ellie, you’re fucking huge–” To which ellie shook her head, about to protest. “Zip it hombre. You’re easily bigger than I am, y’know? And definitely, uh, more thirst trapped.”

She grinned. “Like em?” Ellie sucked in a breath. Oh, she would beat her own ass if she could. “Sorry I– didn’t mean to like–” She could see your surprise. Your discomfort, your pure hatred of ellie and you’re definitely going to hang up and block her–

“Fuckin’ love em.” You said. It was quiet but with that on stage confidence she loves you in. Ellie reddened, her stomach dropping to her loins. Come on now, Williams. Don’t fuck this up. This is only what you’ve thought about every single night for months.

Ellie held two thumbs up at the screen.

You chuckled and copied her. “Anyways, wanna take one of those call-selfies? Everyone’ll go batshit.” You suggested.

“Oh sure! What do you mean though?” Ellie’d been offline since that forty second clip invaded her senses. As far as she knows, you said you had a thing for Ellie, and everyone on the damm platform let her know like Paul Revere.

Your eyes widened in amusement. “You haven’t seen them?” Ellie shook her head. “Oh my gosh, okay.” You interrupted yourself with a laugh as you pulled out your phone, tapping it as you spoke. “I’ll send you some stuff.”

firebuttershoefly sent 6 files.

Ellie eagerly clicked on the first link. It sent her to Tiktok and the lyrics “You just told me, want me to fuck you!” blasted out her phone full volume. Her eyes widened “Fuck, sorry.” she chuckled.

You laughed. “Keep watching!” It was an edit of the two of you, basically, looking hot in your separate fields. Clips of you she’s seen a billion times, transitioning into clips of her on her stream with the line “baby I will ‘cause I really want to.”

Ellie found herself hiding in the neck of her hoodie. “Oh!” She choked out.

“I know right? The rest of the files are screenshots, it’s so, so crazy.” One, a text-heavy Tiktok ranting about what this means for the girl kissing community. Another, a trending hashtag of #y/nllie. The last one was a screenshot of a Tweet by Twtch itself:

bringing lesbians together since 2011.

Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes. “Holy shit, yes let’s take that photo.” Grinning, she pulled out her phone, since you still had no public social media presence. You threw devil horned hand and bit your smiling lip, Ellie smouldered into her phone camera, aiming it at the Discord call. Click! “Should I post it right now?”

“Hmm, you know what? Yeah. Make the caption something like ‘what if we’ve been fucking this whole time.’” Then you laughed in her face like you weren’t little miss blasé.

Ellie sputtered. “Su-ure. I like that–” she cringed. “Not like– not like I like that. Fucking. I mean I do, but I didn’t say it–”

You were cracking up. “Breathe, Ellie.” She might be breathing a little too much, so she slowed it. “I knew what you meant. But we should u-um, talk about it! Shouldn’t we? Because I’m going kind of crazy here.”

“You?”

“Yes me!” Now, she noticed the pink creeping up to your forehead wasn’t makeup. “I’ve had the biggest fucking crush on you for five years. When people ask who my celebrity crush is I have always said Ellie Williams from Twitch.” You rambled.

Why are you so cute? Gone was that confident chick with the world at your feet, somehow, from a tiny pub stage. Drenched in wit and getting bigger laughs than today’s SNL. Now, you’re just a pretty girl who likes her back.

“Woah.” Whe muttered after a while, eyes blown out. “Okay… you might have me beat.”

You quirked a brow. “I know I do. Your turn. Talk about me now.”

She braced herself. “Well… my friend went to your show; sent me pics. Course I wanted your socials right a-fuckin’-way, but you’re like a ghost. so I looked you up and never left the damn rabbit hole.” She scratched the back of her neck, chuckling.

“And you think I’m super hot.”

“Uh-huh. Yep, yeah.”

“And I’m your wallpaper.” You preened.

“Ye-yeah, that too. I can change it if you want!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Okay okay!”

With the ice broken, Ellie's study materials and Google Scholar tabs went forgotten. You talked for ages, but it felt more like catching up.

☆

“Wait, you’re a gun chick?” You asked, beaming. Elie loved that smile on you. And she’s only seen it on this call, like it’s a secret kept precious away from a show. Dug up treasure.

Your call was moved from the living room to the kitchen counter as Ellie cooked dinner. “I love archery! It just felt archery-adjacent. Plus Joel’s crazy good at that sort of thing. He was a hunter for a while.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that!”

☆

You were pointing your laptop around your room, giving Ellie a tour. It was like letting her into your brain. Evidence of you and your passions sprawled every square inch. Posters of your favorite artists and movies, shelves packed with books, a shirt signed by Andy Samberg, who you met at a show in LA. You showed your collection of CDs you burned yourself, because you’re a firm believer of physical copies.

“I hate that you’re so cool.” Ellie grumbled, mouthful of instant noodles.

☆

Both of you wound up in bed, calling from your phones instead, talking the night away. The air eased into something so comfortable and fun. But the tension never ebbed. The chemistry lit you on fire.

“Hey, ohbaby.” Ellie said suddenly, looking a little nervous.

You smirked. “We're back to usernames, Smellie?”

She chuckled. “What did i say about calling me that?”

“Not to.” You faux-pouted. Ellie’s confidence grew.

“Mhm,” She drawled. God, you couldn’t help but stare. The barely there light over Ellie’s face was doing things for you. “You’re based in New York, right?” You nodded. “Let me come see you.”

“Y-you want to?” You asked, trying to control your quickening heart.

“‘Course I want to. I really want to.” She said. “What’s a three hour drive from Boston?” Your jaw dropped.

“A three hour drive– Ellie! I don’t want to be a bother,” You fidgeted. Ellie rolled her eyes playfully.

“What you want is to see me too!” She teased, before her smile melted into something more earnest. “I don’t just, like, lust after you or something. Especially now.”

“Me too, Ellie.” You said softly.

“Something can really happen here, y/n.” Ellie muttered, loud enough for the mic to pick it up.

You took a second to bathe in the moment. You’ve dreamed of exactly this for years. You never want to hang up.

With great resolve, you nodded. “Come see me.”

The smile you shared outshone the growing daylight peering through the blinds.

You hung up eventually. Too late in the evening became ungodly early, and you both had class the next day. Numbers were exchanged, like people who actually knew each other, for reals, and the bones of a plan for Ellie to drive those one hundred and eighty worth it minutes to come see you started to form.

Once again, instead of bed, Ellie checked her phone. It’s just for a second to check out the reactions to her post!

Your rock n’ roll pose and glowy lamp lighting, Ellie’s slightly grainy Macbook camera and smirking pink lips. “but what if we’ve been fucking the whole time” read the caption. Hundreds of thousands of likes, and the most comments she’s ever had on a post. She was too tired to react, but she quickly typed out her own comment. As always, replies piled up in no time.

smellie Creator

kiddingnm no fucking yet

Hide replies

caulfieldcam

get on it?!?!?!?!

renee

hurry

jessie’s girl

yet 😩

But one – and maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but one glowed brighter than the others. A blank but verified account. The profile picture: the photo of you on her poster.

yousername

sleep now, fucking later

Ellie didn’t have the time to process that.

yousername

sleep now, fucking later

Liked by Creator

---

thoughts??? THOTS?????

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #the last of us #tlou x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ro's writing 🧸

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cinnamanz · 5 months ago

Text

✦ ─── 2 𝓱ands , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza keep your hands on me.

─── 𝓢ophia never considered herself the jealous type—until you got a haircut. overnight, it was like the whole world had started seeing you differently, comments about how fine you looked haunting her everywhere. no wonder she'd bossed you to have your hands on her at all times.

❝𝓷eed a little less talk, 𝓪nd a lot more touch.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. sophia laforteza x katseye seventh member!yn ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff, established relationship wc. 4417 a/n. good god i need to stop yapping ab details in fics i keep dragging them on on the other hand, this is my compensation for lowk neglecting u guys nd not bringing food to rhe tsble but i fear its school thats got me on a leash nd unless smn takes one for the team nd burns my school down thisll be happening more nd more often CS EXAMS ND ASSESSMENTS R COMING UP NF IMA BAWL CS WTFFFF EVERYTHING IS TOO FAST IM SO LOST FUCKKKKKKK may or may not have taken too long to get to the part where its actually inspired by 2 hands mbmb the use of 2 hands's lyrics was lowk cringy😟 NAWT PROOFREAD AT ALL🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ enjoy homos❤️

❝𝓲 just want your two hands on me at all times, baby. 𝓲f you let go, better put 'em right back, fast.❞

JEALOUSY WAS NEVER SOPHIA’S THING—at least, that’s what she always told herself. she knew you—her girlfriend, loved her. knew with every fibre of her being that you would never do anything deliberate to hurt her, never purposely stoke the ugly fire that smoldered deep in her chest.

so why was it that, right now, the green-eyed monster clawed its way up her throat, curled around her ribcage, and blurred her vision like a stain she couldn't scrub away?

you’d gotten a haircut a few days ago—something sharper, something that framed your face so effortlessly it was almost unfair. it was the kind of change that ensured the girl crush label stuck to you permanently, as if it hadn’t already. and somehow, impossibly, it made you look even better—dare sophia say hotter—than before.

and safe to say, sophia wasn’t the only one who noticed. unfortunately.

the moment you turned to management and asked if you’d need a wig to hide your fresh cut from the eyekons before going live—like the other members had to in the newest tiktoks they were dishing out—their response was quick, casual—no need, you were free to show it off. gain more attention and eyes on the group before the comeback.

and that was all you needed to hear.

without a second thought, you propped your phone up on the table in your shared room with manon and daniela, fingers adjusting the angle with practiced ease, lips curling into a giddy smile.

anticipation thrummed in your chest, an excited buzz settling beneath your skin as you ran a hand through your freshly cut hair, contemplating whether to hide it beneath a cap before settling to just tugging on the strings of your hoodie, tucking your hair out of sight from the camera.

the viewer count came rushing in the second you’d tapped ‘start live’, and your curious eyes peered at the camera, squinting to see what they’d been commenting about before shaking your head, a small chuckle of amusement spilling past your lips.

user56 bro u look like an egg tf user1 humpty dumpty who?? user9 i think she pulls it off idk bout yall user0 ion care she can still get it even tho she looks like an idiot user2 i like them a little weird user89 GIRL TURN IT AWFFF

“i look like an egg like this? oh wow, that’s interesting. thank you.” you deadpanned, amusement flickering in your eyes as you read the comment aloud. a soft laugh slipped past your lips, shaking your head before tilting it slightly, as if assessing your reflection on the screen.

you kept the playful banter going for a few more minutes, responding to teasing messages with quick-witted remarks, occasionally tugging at the edge of your hood in mock offense. finally, you sighed, dramatic and drawn out, before giving in with a knowing hum.

your fingers found the drawstring of your hoodie, twirling it lazily around one fingertip before tugging it loose. slowly, almost teasingly, you pushed the hood back, revealing the slightly poofy and mussed strands of your fresh haircut, the soft layers settling into place after being trapped beneath the fabric.

the moment your hair was freed, your hands instinctively shot up, smoothing over the mess, fingertips gently carding through the strands in an attempt to tame them. a small mirthful chuckle escaped you, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at the way the hood had left your hair slightly disheveled.

but even then, you still looked effortlessly good. and judging by the flood of excited comments rolling in, and eyekons definitely agreed.

"we vibing with it, chat?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, trying to smooth down the strands that had been ruffled by your hoodie.

your lips pressed into a thin line, dissatisfaction creeping in as you examined your reflection on the screen, the messiness making your fresh cut look a little less put-together than you had intended.

"shouldn’t have actually hidden it away from you guys," you admitted with a soft sigh, shaking your head. "or it wouldn’t have been this messy."

your hands worked quickly, gently pushing some strands into place, but after a moment of struggling, you huffed in mild frustration. deciding to leave it as it was, you leaned forward, reaching for your glasses resting on the table. with practiced ease, you slid them on, blinking a few times as your vision sharpened.

"my bad, guys," you said, lips twitching into a sheepish smile as you settled back into place. "couldn’t be assed to put on my contacts."

user90 raw raw ah ah ah or wtv it was lady gaga said user56 okay guys fess up who tf took my pants user4 iSWEAR my pants were just on user77 and the crowd is… undressing themselves⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ user78 omg girl dont play w me like that i might js make u mine user43 and FUCK whoever’s dating u bruh u look too good ima nut get OUTTTTTT user68 thank GOD my phone’s waterproof‼️‼️‼️ user70 TIL THE NEIGHBOURS LEARN HER NAME😭😭😭😭 user45 FLASH US

the chat exploded with reactions—some gushing over how good you looked, others teasing about your laziness, and more than a few keyboard smashes from people who were clearly losing their minds over the combination of the new haircut and glasses.

you chuckled at the chaos, pushing your frames up the bridge of your nose before relaxing into the moment, letting the eyekons take it all in.

sophia who was watching just downstairs, however, wasn’t all that amused with the comments that flooded your live.

it was a jumpscare, truly. the moment sophia groggily unlocked her phone and opened tiktok, still blinking sleep from her eyes, she was met—ambushed, really—by an edit of your live from last night. the screen instantly flooded with clips of you, your freshly-cut hair falling effortlessly into place, set to the smooth, sultry beat of redbone by childish gambino.

typical, she thought dryly at the sound choice, but that didn’t stop the way her breath hitched slightly.

the light from her phone bathed her face in a bright glow, illuminating every tiny movement of her fingers as she instinctively scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the comment section before she could even think twice about it. she already knew what to expect, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

and sure enough, the comments were just as bad—if not worse—than the ones from last night. thirsting, keyboard smashes, people losing their goddamn minds over you. all of it blurred together in an overwhelming stream of admiration, and sophia could feel a familiar, unwelcome heat creeping up her neck.

because, god, of course everyone had to notice how good you looked. and of course, they wouldn’t shut up about it.

it didn’t help that the next few swipes on her for you page led to even more edits—clip after clip of your live from last night, set to sultry, slow-burning tracks that only seemed to emphasize just how good you looked.

the way your freshly cut hair fell into place, the way your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose before you pushed them up absentmindedly, the way you’d smirked slightly at the camera without even meaning to—it was all there, replaying in high definition, edited to perfection, and worst of all, everywhere. god.

sophia groaned, flopping onto her back as she mindlessly scrolled, but she wasn’t about to just watch and let it slide. no, she was documenting this. saving receipts.

in less than an hour, she had added over fifty different edits of you into a private folder under your name, her fingers moving almost on autopilot. every new clip she found—save. another slow zoom-in on your face—save. a dramatic transition to the beat drop—definitely save.

by the time she was done, she was sure she had absolutely flooded the eyekons’ notifications, her name popping up repeatedly as she went on her little jealousy-infused saving spree.

but she didn’t care. not even a little.

because in her mind, this wasn’t just a collection—it was a statement. a quiet, possessive claim, a subtle way of reminding the eyekons exactly who you belonged to. every save, every tap of her screen, was her way of saying: watch all you want, but just know—she’s mine. and wait—no, no, no. jealousy is bad. an ugly feeling she shouldn’t be feeling.

but the moment you’d walked into her shared room with yoonchae all mussed from sleep and seeking her out first thing in the morning, sliding into bed next to her, body molding onto hers and—to hell with it.

she’d decided to go live the next day out of pure boredom and cause chaos (unbidden flirting).

clad in an oversized black hoodie—one she had definitely swiped from your closet without asking—sophia lounged comfortably in front of the camera, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made it clear it was never hers to begin with.

the sleeves fell just past her wrists, slightly bunched at her hands as she lazily adjusted the hem. paired with it was a black baseball cap, probably one of the few articles of clothing she actually owned, its curved brim casting a subtle shadow over her sharp features.

her free hand drifted to the waistband of the grey sweatpants she was wearing—another piece that was, without a doubt, stolen from your closet. with a quick tug, she adjusted the way they rested on her hips, ensuring they fit just right before letting her hand drop.

user44 GOOD GODDDDD user88 that hoodie looks rlyyyy familiar ms laforteza user51 SOPHIA LIVE OH GOD BLESS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user50 can u be my girlfriend for three seconds user41 BROOOOO I NEED U SO BAD SHUT UPPPP user32 how have u been sophia???

her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at the screen, watching the comments flood in—messages filled with excitement, teasing remarks about her outfit, and, of course, plenty of people calling her out for very obviously wearing your clothes again. she simply raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she leaned in slightly, skimming through the chaotic flood of words.

but she didn’t deny it. not once.

it wasn’t until halfway through the live that the shift in the comment section became impossible to ignore. at first, it had been the usual chaos—people gushing over her, teasing her about the hoodie, and thirsting over every little movement she made. but then, as if on cue, the flood of questions about you started rolling in.

user55 hey queen so whats the deal w y/n?? is she single perchance😌😌😌 user63 is y/n there w u??? user80 is y/n single?? asking for a friend nd research purposes🌚🌚 user66 blink twice if y/n is in the room

mixed in with those were the more audacious ones—the teasing, flirty messages that made sophia’s jaw clench ever so slightly.

user90 how does one marry y/n?? help a girl out pls user82 can i marry y/n??

“no, you can’t marry y/n.” she’d replied, her fingers, which had been lazily toying with the hem of her hoodie, stilled. she blinked at the screen once. twice.

narrowing her eyes, she hooked her fingers under her chin, tilting her head slightly as she peered at the comment section with squinted, unmistakably disapproving eyes. her lips pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, she just stared, letting the weight of her silence settle over the chat.

and if the eyekons watching had any sense at all, they’d know exactly what that look meant.

“what’s that about me?”

sophia’s eyes snapped up from the screen of the live the moment she caught movement from the doorway, her sharp, narrowed gaze instantly softening at the sight of you.

there you stood, bathed in the dim glow of the room, your expression puzzled as you tilted your head slightly, brows knitting together in mild confusion. dressed in baggy clothes—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely over your frame and sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles—you looked effortlessly comfortable, the kind of effortlessness that made sophia’s chest tighten just a little.

your prescription glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, a clear sign that it was far too late in the night for you to bother with contacts. in one hand, you loosely gripped a bottle of water, your other hand absentmindedly brushing at your sleeve as your bare feet padded quietly against the floor, carrying you toward her without hesitation.

completely unaware.

unaware of the absolute chaos happening in her live chat. unaware of the thirsting, the borderline feral comments flooding in, the way the eyekons were already losing their minds over the mere mention of your name. and most of all, unaware of the way sophia was staring at you—conflicted.

because in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to selfishly keep you out of the frame, away from their prying eyes, or to let them see you, let them understand exactly why she looked at you the way she did.

but before she could make a decision, you made it for her.

with an easy step forward, you popped into the frame, completely oblivious to the digital uproar you had just caused, a sweet, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you greeted the screen.

"hi, eyekons," you murmured, voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that sent an immediate shiver down sophia’s spine. "how’re we doin’ tonight? good?"

your words were slow, unhurried, tinged with the warmth of drowsiness as you blinked at the screen, adjusting your glasses with a lazy push of your knuckle against the frame. your lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as you nodded, as if genuinely pleased by the flood of chaotic responses rolling in.

user77 girl i cant do ts rn im ovulating bad user66 standing ovulation or wtv the saying is user62 heyyyy so lunch by billie eilish?? user79 MY DREAM RIDE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 user39 WHATT HEJVUKFMFK WHAT THEUCKVLVMK user50 CLEAN UP ON AISLE MY PANTS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user99 cldnt even edge to ts i exploded IMMEDIATELY😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 user34 the crowd would applaud but their hands are busy😭😭😭 user14 i swear my pants were JUST on

"i’m glad," you hummed, voice dipping even lower, softer—dangerous.

sophia didn’t stand a chance.

the moment the sound of your voice filled the room, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, warm and betraying. without thinking, she subtly turned her face away from the camera, pretending to adjust her hoodie as she desperately tried to will away the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

but of course, you noticed.

your gaze flickered toward her, amusement dancing in your sleep-heavy eyes, and a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips—gentle, teasing.

"what’s with you?" you asked, voice lilting, but sophia refused to look at you, choosing instead to stare pointedly at her phone as if it could somehow save her from this situation.

it absolutely could not.

“nothing,” she tried to fib through her teeth. her face was half-hidden from the camera, but you knew her well enough to picture the exact shade of pink dusting her cheeks, the way she’d press her lips together in a tight line to keep from giving herself away. “don’t worry about it.”

a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips, though you chose not to push any further—for now. instead, you shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you took in the rare sight of sophia, who was normally so composed, absolutely crumbling before your eyes.

"someone’s suddenly a little camera shy," you mused, voice dipping into something teasing, playful.

sophia let out a quiet huff, still turned away, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of the hoodie she’d stolen from you, as if focusing on that would somehow help her regain her composure.

and for a few minutes, she did just that—taking slow, measured breaths, schooling her features back into something neutral, forcing the heat in her cheeks to die down. when she finally popped back into frame, her expression was much steadier, though the faintest traces of pink still lingered on her skin.

thankfully, the purple lighting she’d chosen for the live worked in her favour, casting a soft glow that helped mask the last remnants of her flustered state. she busied herself with scrolling through the chat, acting as though nothing had happened, her posture relaxed, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance.

or, at least, she tried to.

because just as she started to settle back into her usual rhythm, her brows twitched—barely, but enough—as her ears picked up on something that immediately set her back on edge.

"oh, baby, you’re too sweet," you purred, your voice dripping with playful flirtation as you read a particularly bold comment from an eyekon. "but if you keep talking to me like that, i might just have to take you out on a date."

user51 MY TURN user23 A TEAR ROLLED DOWN MY LEG user89 OHMGYGOD IVOLUNTER ASTRIBYTE user62 RAWRAWRARAWRARWRAW user94 THISMADE BOTH OF MY LIPS SMILE user42 raw i meant AWWWWWW user82 this so made my hole weak I MEANT MY WHOLE WEEK user42 i am not cinderella but ik it fits user51 born to cowgirl, forced to fangirl💔💔💔💔💔 user41 i have nothing appropriate to say HER VOICE UGHHHHH user17 i finally got the water bed everyone wanted in 2016 user88 good now OIL UP user33 YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE ANIMALS IN HERE WTF ENOUGH GUYS ENOUGH YOU HORNDOGS user21 all ten fingers.

sophia froze.

her grip on her the drawstring of your hoodie tightened slightly, her jaw ticking as she forced her gaze to remain on the screen, pretending to be invested in the chat.

but anyone who knew her—especially you—could see the barely concealed flicker of irritation in her expression, the slight way her nostrils flared, the way her fingers twitched as if she were this close to reaching out and physically covering your mouth to put an end to whatever nonsense you were spewing.

she knew you were just playing around. she knew it.

but that didn’t stop the possessive heat from curling low in her stomach, nor did it stop the subtle shift in her posture—back straightening, shoulders rolling back, as if preparing to stake her claim without saying a word.

user1 guys im kinda scared of sophia user79 SHES LOOMING HELPPP user52 guard dog who user93 damn sophia my b for even looking at yn user84 im gna sleep now okay?? dont choke me in my sleep pls user77 I WAS JS PLAYING W YN PLS DONT KILL ME user91 holy shit i js got shivers down my spine

sophia hadn’t meant to react so quickly, so instinctively, but the second another flirtatious comment slipped past your lips, she couldn’t hold back anymore. before she even registered what she was doing, her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip—possessive, unwavering.

your amusement only grew at the sudden contact, lips parting slightly as you turned away from the chat, gaze landing on sophia. her expression was downright murderous, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

without a word, she yanked your arm toward her, grip tightening as if to silently remind you who you belonged to. both of her hands locked around your forearm now, as if afraid you’d slip away if she loosened her hold even slightly.

and then—thud.

in her urgency, her knee jerked forward, slamming against the table. the impact sent her phone tumbling forward, landing screen-down with a soft clack, the camera immediately blacking out. the live was still running, but now all the eyekons could hear was the sharp rustle of movement, the sound of fabric shifting, a muffled noise—

because in the very next second, sophia had tugged you forward, pulling you straight between her thighs with a force that left you momentarily stunned. and before you could even process what was happening, her hands were on you—one threading into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, the other firmly cupping the back of your neck, anchoring you in place.

and then she kissed you.

no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

it was all-consuming, the way she melted against you, the way her lips moved with a desperation that sent your mind reeling.

she kissed you like you were her oxygen, like she had been starving for you this entire time—which she has been to be fair, and now that she had you, she refused to let you go. her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging slightly, as if to draw you in even closer—though there was hardly any space left between you.

but just as you were getting lost in the heat of it—just as you felt yourself melting into her touch—she suddenly pulled away, her hands shifting to your shoulders.

and then, without warning, she pushed you back.

you barely had a second to react before your back hit the couch once again, a soft groan escaping you as sophia moved fast, swinging a leg over your waist and straddling you with ease, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips.

you blinked up at her, breathless, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss. but she didn’t give you a moment to recover. the rest of the world faded, the chat, the live, the teasing—nothing else mattered except this. except her. just like how she’d intended. and she leaned back in for more.

user77 HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON user51 GET ME OUT OF THE BASWMENY user11 BTCHCICHFUHFIE WTAFFDTFYE WHAT IS GOIUNG ON HELLO user78 I HEARD THAT user12 smn pick me up im scared user82 bon appetite to sophia ig user94 AT LWAST END THE LIVE????? user73 am i interrupting sumn user93 freak ON user44 media training went out the window im crying theyre not even tryna hide it HELPPP user25 probably making out in my cellular phone i pay for every month??? diabolical work i feel targeted.

sophia had no idea how she’d ended up here—pressed into the middle of a drunken, swaying crowd, the bass thrumming so hard it rattled her ribs, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the kind of recklessness that came with too many shots and too little self-control.

this was not what you had promised.

"it'll be chill," you’d said, smiling so sweetly at her earlier, brushing your fingers through her hair as you reassured her that it was just a casual going-away party for your friend—nothing too wild.

but now? some random guy had the audacity to press up against her, subtly—or not so subtly—trying to grind against her like she wouldn’t notice. like she’d let him.

with an irritated grunt, she shoved him off, barely sparing him a glare before weaving through the crowd, jaw clenched. she barely knew your friend, didn’t care to, really. she wouldn’t even be out of bed right now if it were up to her, more than happy to be curled up under the covers with you, watching mamma mia back to back before switching to your personal favorites—until the two of you inevitably dozed off.

but no.

you just had to have plans. just had to drag her to some bullshit party for a friend jetting off to europe to “find the woman of her life.”

sophia cursed under her breath, her usually calm composure cracking as frustration simmered beneath her skin. her hands itched—aching to grab ahold of you, to pull you against her and make sure every single person here knew you weren’t up for grabs.

the flashing, colorful lights of the room made everything simultaneously too bright and too dim, disorienting her as she searched. the pulse of the music did nothing to drown out the growing sense of urgency clawing up her spine.

she should’ve never let you out of her sight—oh, there you are.

sophia could feel it creeping in—the sharp, insidious burn of jealousy sinking its claws into her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs like a vice for the second time that week.

surrounded by a cluster of women, all too eager to lean in, to bat their lashes, to laugh a little too loudly at something you’d said—something that, knowing you, probably wasn’t even that funny. yet there they were, hanging onto every word, eyes lingering a little too long, bodies angled a little too close.

her jaw clenched.

her vision blurred at the edges, tinted green with something she refused to name, but it propelled her forward before she could think twice, her feet carrying her straight to you, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted.

she slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, a mask of indifference settling over her features like second nature—calm, cool, unreadable. but beneath the surface? she was nothing but raw chaos.

without a word, her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you back, away from them, to her. her hands moved instinctively, slipping over yours, guiding them down, redirecting—staking claim.

she flattened your palms against her waist, holding them there, her body pressing into yours like she needed you closer. always.

“want your two hands on me at all times, baby.” sophia's voice was a low murmur, silk-smooth and deliberate as she tilted her head back, lips just barely grazing your cheek before trailing toward your ear, a slow, teasing whisper meant for you—but performed for the lingering eyes around you.

“and if you let go, better put ‘em right back fast.” her grip on your hands tightened, guiding them to press firmer against her waist, as if daring you to even think about moving them away. her fingers curled around yours, possessive, a silent command to stay put. her heart pounded, a steady rhythm against your skin.

"want your two hands on me.” like my life needs saving, she’d have dared utter if she wasn’t too lost in the way your breath hitched, fingers twitching against hers.

and maybe it did.

she leaned in closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, her breath warm and slow, sending shivers down your spine. “let ‘em all know.”

her hand ghosted back, fingers featherlight as they traced along your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet her gaze, dark and unreadable.

“can you do it like that?”

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

#cinnamanz's works .ᐟ #cinnamanz's navi .ᐟ #divs by roseraris #sophia laforteza x female reader #sophia x female reader #sophia laforteza katseye #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia katseye #sophia laforteza #sophia x reader #katseye x reader #katseye #wlw #katseye x female reader #gxg

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igorluvr · 7 months ago

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‘LOVE AND LATTES | kang dae-ho x reader

PAIRING: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: during the games, dae-ho promised to take you on a proper first date. now that you had both successfully made it out, he was going to keep his promise

CONTENT: fluff, literally the tiniest bit of angst, kinda corny, trauma, kissing on the first date smh, reader is implied to be black

AUTHORS NOTE: tryna get a lot of fics out for u guys bcs almost 400 likes on my first ??? omg yall r so sweet i swearrr, tysmm !!! ngl this might be kinda bad bcs im too tired to read over it …

word count: [2.5k]

IT’S been around 3 days since you got out of those hellish games, and you still can’t seem to process it. There was so much death, you felt guilty for taking the money, but it was your only chance at having a way out.

After surviving and splitting the money with a good handful of people, you found yourself dropped off in a dark alleyway. With only a large duffel bag at your side, you felt lost, unsure of where to go.

Eventually, you made your way to a bus station and caught a ride back to your apartment. It took a while to adjust to being in the real world again, a world where a gun wasn’t being held up to your head every hour of the day.

You remembered how you met the sweetest boy there. Kang Dae-ho. He was everything you could’ve asked for. The perfect man, met at a perfectly terrible time. Your mind flashed back to the end of mingle game.

‘I swear, when we get out of here I’m gonna take you on a real date. No guards, no games, just us two and the future ahead of us, okay?’ Dae-ho promised, cupping your face gently in his hands.

‘I love you with all of my heart, and I wanna see you when this is all over. We can move in with eachother and spend everyday in eachothers arms.’ He rambled with tears in his eyes, ‘I can’t lose you.’

Now in the present day, you wished you’d spend more time with him. You thought back to the last day in the games, when you wrote your number on his hand, hoping it wouldn’t be wiped off by the guards before he got home so you could live out the future you planned.

As the days passed, you lost hope in being able to reunite with your lover. Memories of him flashed through your mind. “Fuck, Dae-ho.” you whispered, “If only I had one more day with you..” and as if on cue, you heard your phone ring.

You stared for a couple seconds, confused as to who it could be. ‘It wouldn’t be Dae-ho, would it?’ With an ounce of hope left in your mind, you hurried and clicked the green answer button.

Silence lingered, then you heard a voice that made your heart explode.

“Hello?” Dae-ho’s wavering voice sounded “Is this you?”

You jumped up in joy, feeling a huge smile stretch across your face.

“Oh my God, Dae-ho!! It’s actually you!!” You exclaimed. “I missed you so much I thought we’d never talk again.”

A relieved sigh came from the other line, followed by a slight laugh. “I missed you more. How have you been? Where are you? Do you want me to come over?” he bombarded

“Okay woah, I can tell you missed me. I’m doing good, well better than I was a couple days ago, I’m at my house, and yes, I would love for you to come” You answered

The line went quiet for a moment, making you wonder if you’d lost the connection. Just as concern started to creep in, Dae-ho spoke again “Do you remember that promise I made before we got out?”

Of course you remember, his words have been playing on repeat in your mind like a record. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought of it actually coming true. You muttered a quick ‘mhm’ for him to continue.

“Tomorrow, meet me at the cafe down the street from that big market. I don’t know where you stay, so if it’s too far tell me and I’ll call you an uber.” he planned, “Dress up, even though I know you’ll look amazing in anything” You felt the butterflies in your stomach form as he carried on about what’ll happen the next day.

As the conversation came to a close and you got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking of any possible scenario that could happen tomorrow, good and bad.

‘What if my hair doesn’t cooperate?’

‘What if he doesn’t like how I look anymore?’

‘What if he’s setting me up?’

All these unlikely events start to run through your mind and it caused you to be overwhelmed with everything happening. When drifting off to sleep, you hope that everything turns out right.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You woke up to a constant ‘ding’ blaring through your room every 10 seconds. Immediately, you pressed the power button on your phone thinking maybe you’d accidentally set an alarm. When it didn’t subside after this, you groggily opened your phone to locate the noise.

There were about 15 notifications from Dae-ho, them all texting you as if you’d died in your sleep or something.

A pool of ‘are you awake?’ and ‘are you okay?’ flooded on your lock screen. Not wanting him to worry any further, you decided to text him back

‘goodmorninggg, i’m up now sorry 😭 im okay, how are you?’ You typed, half asleep.

Immediately, your message was read and the bubbles on the left side of the screen appeared.

‘I’m okay. Why do you sleep so late? You scared me.’ the message read. You hadn’t even realized the time. ‘2:26pm’ the clock read. You always had a bad habit of sleeping in but it had gotten unusually bad after getting back from the games.

You quickly apologized in your message, explaining your situation to which he swiftly understood. As the conversation progressed, you discussed your date. You were the type of person that needed to know every detail before doing something, especially something like this.

The both of you decided to meet there at 7pm, to give you time to get ready, and to dress up—but not too much. To be honest, you weren’t sure if you guys had the same definition of too much but you decided to put it aside for now.

Immediately after you guys finished discussing the details, you rushed to get ready. Even though you had 4 hours, it didn’t seem like nearly enough time to see him.

The closet was your first thought, since you basically lived by the rule of getting dressed first, doing hair, then putting on makeup. You scanned your closet for anything that would impress Dae-ho.

It took about 30 minutes alone to pick out an outfit. You decided on a long black dress you bought for your halloween costume that you never got the chance to wear, due to the pickup for the games occurring the same day. You picked out jewelry and a coat to go with it, since it was the beginning of winter.

After getting dressed, you gathered all your makeup supplies and rushed to the bathroom. Doing your makeup took longer than you wanted it to, but you wanted everything to be perfect since this was the first time you’d see him outside of life-or-death situations.

Every wing of eyeliner had to be just right, your lip gloss needed just the right amount of shine, everything had to reflect how much you cared.

The hair was the part you’d been dreading. You didn’t know if it was the detangling, or getting your part straight, but it gave you a headache just thinking about it.

After stalling for about 20 minutes, you finally built up the strength to start on your hair. Pinterest was your best friend for situations like this. You quickly opened the board labeled “hairstyles” and scrolled through them to find the perfect one.

You’d found this beautiful blown-out hairstyle that would look amazing with your outfit and makeup. Since you knew it would take a long time, you silently braced yourself, this wouldn’t be an easy task. You grabbed the blow dryer, flat iron, heat protectant, and got to work.

In about 2 hours, you had finally finished at 6:50pm. The cafe was about 7 minutes away from you, so you grabbed your stuff and walked out of the door.

The drive there was the worst part. Your stomach was doing somersaults. Even though you’d seen eachother at your literal worsts, it still felt so scary. With all these anxieties flashing through your mind, you managed to push them to the back and keep a confident facade.

As you pulled up, you sent a quick text stating your arrival. You fidgeted with the ends of your dress absentmindedly, spacing out and hoping for the best.

The ding of your phone sent shivers down your spine as a text popped up reading ‘Perfect. Come inside and turn to the left, I’m here.’

You felt like throwing up as you walked up to the entrance of the café. The strong smell of caffeine and pastries hit your nose as you searched for Dae-ho in the warm lights.

Turning left as he instructed, you were met with his beaming face, looking like he’d seen the most beautiful sunrise. His eyes widened in awe, and for a moment, he seemed frozen. The corners of his mouth curled up into an infectious smile, and you felt a rush of warmth, knowing that in this moment, you had completely captivated him.

Almost immediately, he jumped up and gave you an engulfing hug. You didn’t know if it was because you were used to the smell of blood being around him, but he smelled astonishingly good. It was like the best mixture of his natural scent and a very expensive cologne.

As he pulled back slightly, you noticed a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands—delicate white lilies mixed with soft pink roses. “These are for you,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I thought it was only right for our first date.”

His hair was down to his neck, loose and messy, quite different from the bun you were used to seeing him in during the games. The collar of his shirt was casually unbuttoned, too. He looked effortlessly flawless.

“You look… wow. You’re so beautiful,” Dae-ho complimented, sending electric shocks through your veins. A rush of shyness met your face—he really thought of you like that?

“It’s so good to see you,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and delight. “You look amazing too. I mean, I always thought you were handsome, but just… wow.” You took the bouquet from him, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flowers.

His laughter danced through the air, a sound that brought you so much peace and clarity. “I’m just glad I could pull myself together after… well, everything.” His smile faded a bit, and you felt the silent weight of shared trauma hovering between you.

“Let’s not think about that tonight ,” you suggested softly, taking a seat across from him. “We deserve a night where those horrible games are the last of our worries.”

“Agreed,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze intensifying. “Tonight is about us, and starting fresh,together.”

As you scanned the cafe, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and the faint piano covers playing in the background,you felt the tension from earlier gradually melt away. You could see other people laughing, having the time of their lives. It felt surreal to be part of such a normal scene after everything you had both endured.

The waitress came up to your table and you both ordered drinks; he went for a dark roast coffee while you chose for a sweet vanilla latte. “It’s nice to be able to actually enjoy these little things.” you ranted, “After everything, I never even thought we’d get here.”

Dae-ho's eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth. “I’ve thought about this moment every day since I got back,” he admitted. “Dreamt about sitting across from you in a place that feels safe, where we can just be us.”

That sentiment made your heart swell. You immersed yourself in his beautiful sunkissed eyes. “What do you want for us, Dae-ho?” You asked, knowing that his answer could make or break you.

He hesitated for a moment, his expression solemn. “I want to build a life with you, whatever that looks like. It could be road trips everyday and always having new experiences together, or a cozy apartment with a beautiful family and no worries. I want us to share everything, the good, the bad—everything.”

The sincerity behind his words wrapped around your heart like a warm, familiar blanket. “I want that too,” you said softly, placing your hand over his. The connection was electric, sending sweet shivers up your body.

As you sipped your drinks, Dae-ho leaned in closer, a serious look in his eyes. “You know, I’ve thought about you every single day since we got out. I really missed you.”

“Really? I missed you too,” you replied, voice full of veracity. “It’s been hard without you.”

He took a long pause, as if he was searching for the right words. “I never realized how much I wanted someone like you in my life. Just knowing you were out there somewhere gave me hope.”

You felt your heart pang at his words, you spent all your life searching for a love like this, it felt so good to finally have it. “It was the same for me too. Every time I felt like giving up I had to remind myself of us, and our future.”

A soft smile grew on his face. “I knew we’d find our way back to each other. I just didn’t know how much it would mean to finally be here, like this.”

“Me either,” you said softly. “I was nervous about tonight. I worried that maybe everything would feel different.” You thought back to earlier and how stupid you were for thinking he would see you differently. This is genuinely all you could've asked for.

Dae-ho shook his head with his eyebrows fixed in a furrow. “I was nervous too, but being with you feels right. I could really see us living a perfect life someday”

Your heart swelled with warmth. With him, you felt like you can just be yourself without any fear. He was genuinely your safe space.

“I promise we’ll stay connected. No matter how hard things get, we’ll keep fighting for each other.” You swore, knowing how your past relationships ended and wanting to break the cycle.

“Thank you, really. It means the world to me,” Dae-ho said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours. “I just want us to have a future, no matter how hard it'll be.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “It’s comforting to have someone you know will be there for you, even on the darker days.”

His smile deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded. Just the two of you were in the room—focused on your shared promise. Nothing else mattered in this moment, you were ready to finally create a new beginning.

Silence in the air was broken as he finally spoke up, “I want to build a life where we support each other through any and everything." he grinned. “Even the small moments matter. Like cooking together and trying not to burn the kitchen down.”

You chuckled softly, picturing you both in the kitchen attempting to cook and leaving something in the oven too long. “I can definitely see that happening.”

“And if we accidentally set the place on fire, at least I’ll have an excuse to scoop you up and look all heroic while I rescue you.” he joked, his expression growing more playful

Laughter erupts from you and your eyes sprinkle with joy, causing Dae-ho to lean in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, I really missed your laugh. It makes everything feel so much brighter.”

“Really?” you asked, feeling warmth spread through your chest, “I missed yours too, it’s cute.”

The atmosphere felt light, almost euphoric, as you both relaxed into the comfort of eachother's presence. “Believe it or not, I was really so nervous for tonight,” Dae-ho admitted, his voice softening as he brushes his hair back behind his ear. “I thought I’d forget how to talk to you.”

“Trust me,” you said, voice tender, “I was nervous too. But I realized that after everything, who else could understand us like this?”

“Exactly,” He said before taking a sip of his coffee. “I feel like I can be myself around you, like I’ve never been able to with anyone else. It’s so freeing.”

“Freedom and love. Isn’t that what life’s really all about?” you said, your voice filled with hope and longing. You felt a warmth in your heart as you spoke, realizing that these two things were what you truly cherished.

As the conversation flowed, you exchanged stories, laughter, and memories—you shared dreams and fears, and slowly the nervousness slowly melted away.

“I can’t believe we made it out,” he said, his voice stern. “I can’t stop thinking about the others we lost… what they would’ve did if they made it out too.”

A brief silence enveloped the moment, both of you remembering the friends that didn’t make it, the faces of people who had shared brutal experiences with you.

“I think they’d want us to live, like really live,” you said firmly, squeezing his hand gently. “To make the most of us getting out, we owe it to them.” Dae-ho silently nodded, the thick atmosphere slowly leaving.

As the evening progressed, you lost track of time, so caught up in the warmth of shared smiles and nervous laughter. You could hardly believe this was the same man who stepped up and took initiative at every rough point during the games, willing to sacrifice himself for everyone's safety.

The night ended slowly as Dae-ho walked you outside to your car. The stars twinkled like tiny beacons in the dark sky above. “It feels different tonight, doesn’t it?” you said, glancing up at the stars. “Yeah, it really does,” he replied, his voice soft but full of warmth.

As you strolled along, flowers in hand, you both shared stories from before you met, your voices mixing with the soft hum of the night. Every smile and nervous chuckle made you feel a little lighter. You realized how much you valued this moment, this time together, away from the chaos and pain that had once consumed you both.

You exchanged glances, and you both understood something unspoken between you. “I never thought I could feel this way again,” you said, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. Dae-ho stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Neither did I. But I’m glad we’re here together.”

Finally, you paused beneath a big, ancient tree. Its branches stretched out like arms, swallowing you both in its shadow. Dae-ho turned to you, his eyes beaming in the starlight. His stare locked onto yours, and he took a step closer, face inches from yours.

"I wish this could last forever baby, I love you." he whispered, breath caressing your skin. Then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You felt a spark of connection, and your heart skipped a beat as you kissed him back, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. The kiss deepened, and everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

As the kiss lingered, time itself seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into a beautiful blur. When you finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours, a mix of desperation and love radiating from him. "Whatever happens, I'll always be here" he said softly, his hand still cradling your face. You smiled, knowing that no matter where life took you, this memory would be a cherished part of your story, a promise of what could be.

#kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #squid game #dae ho x reader #kang daeho #daeho x reader #squid game x reader #kang dae ho fluff #dae ho fluff #squid game fluff #need that

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immaqulate · 1 month ago

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rated r.. for ruined | c.s

— chris sturniolo x fem! reader

— warnings: smut (18+), established relationship, public sex in theater (penetration), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it yall), hand over mouth restraint, dirty talk/praising, creampie/cum inside (implied), overstimulation, risk of being seen/heard (consensual audience implication), READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You knew wearing the skirt was a bad idea. But when Chris pulls you into his lap during a late-night movie and whispers in your ear to stay quiet… it’s already too late.

requested by anon! | word count: 769 | dividers by @cursed-carmine

You shouldn’t have worn the skirt. You knew better.

But when Chris texted you earlier — “Late movie? Just us. Wear that little black one I like.” — you knew what you were getting into. Still, you told yourself it would just be cuddles. Maybe some kissing. Something soft and sweet, like the way he played with your fingers in public. Like the way he held your hand under the hoodie he draped over both your laps. Like the way he whispered, “You look so pretty when you’re nervous,” into your hair when you flinched at the jump scare.

But soft and sweet has never been his strong suit.

Not when he shifts in his seat halfway through the movie and pulls you into his lap. Not when his hand disappears under your skirt like it belongs there. Not when he hisses against your ear, “Shh, you gotta stay quiet for me, baby, can you do that?”

You nod, but your breath is already shaky.

Chris’s fingers trail up your thighs, slow and teasing, lips brushing your neck like he’s narrating a secret. “You’re so warm already. God, you knew I was gonna do this, didn’t you?” He laughs softly when you whimper, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. “So shy,” he murmurs, “but you came ready for it.”

You squirm as he presses two fingers against the damp cotton of your panties, and he groans low. “Fuck… you’re soaked.” The movie’s still playing, surround sound booming, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the slick sound of his fingers pulling your underwear aside.

He doesn’t bother teasing anymore.

He guides himself inside you — slow, thick, deliberate — muffling your gasp with his hand over your mouth. You clench around him immediately, thighs tensing, fingernails digging into the armrest. He’s deep, the stretch dizzying, and you’re barely halfway seated on him before he’s already whispering praise.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Always take me so fuckin’ good…”

You’re trembling. Not from fear — from need. From the way his free hand grips your waist, keeping you locked in place. From the subtle roll of his hips beneath you, making it impossible not to feel everything. From the quiet, hot way he breathes into your ear.

“You okay?” he asks, fingers brushing your cheek.

You nod fast, barely a whisper: “Mhm.”

He kisses your neck and thrusts up again — slow and deep. Your breath hitches and your back arches just a little, enough for his grip to tighten.

“Don’t. Move.” His voice is stern but soft. “If you start bouncing, someone’s gonna hear us.”

You whimper and try to behave, sitting still while he grinds into you in the filthiest way. It’s overwhelming. You can barely focus on the movie. Not when he’s inside you. Not when you’re so full you can’t even think straight. Not when he leans in and whispers—

“Feel that, baby? How deep I am? Bet the people in the front row have no idea your pretty pussy’s stuffed full of me right now…”

You squirm again. And this time, he lets you.

Your hips roll instinctively, chasing friction, and his jaw clenches hard beneath your ear. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it…”

His hand covers your mouth again just as you moan — quiet, but shaky, needy. Your eyes are wide as you fight to stay quiet, the theater still mostly empty, but not empty enough. Every creak of the chair, every whine that slips out, feels so loud.

Chris is panting now. “You close, baby?”

You nod helplessly, tears welling in your eyes because it’s too good — too much. And he knows exactly how to ruin you.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. “Right here, like a good girl. So fuckin’ tight… You gonna cum on my cock in the movie theater like a little slut?”

You cry out behind his hand, legs shaking as your orgasm crashes through you. Your whole body quakes in his lap, thighs clenching around him as he holds you through it, fucking you slow and deep the whole way.

“That’s it. That’s my girl,” he breathes against your temple, voice ragged now. “God, you’re perfect.”

You’re still trembling when he finally pulls out, tucking himself back into his jeans with a low groan. He lets you sit in his lap for a second longer, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you against him like nothing happened.

You try to calm your breathing, cheeks flushed, fingers still digging into the seat cushion.

And then he smirks.

“You wanna stay for the post-credit scene?”

broo thats so hott 😭.. god i need him

click here to be added to my taglist and here for masterlist <3

taglist 1 ✎ @chrisissobabygirl @sturnzwrld @strnilolover @sweetshuga @mattslilies @sirensdollesque @slxtarchive @heartsonlyforchris @sturns-mermaid @bluessturniolo @pasteldreams @endereies @solarsturniolo @drewswife @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @ivytthew @blushsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @mazzystarrysky @eclipsturns @riasturns @mattsgirl4ever @elisesturnz @ribbonlovergirl @chrisslut04 @pair-of-pantaloons @obxfansstuff @poppetbaby02 @bgfshai @kalel2005

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venerosith · 2 months ago

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Y᥆ᥙr ᥎ᥱᥒᥙ᥉ ᥲᥒd ᥡ᥆ᥙr fᥲ᥉hι᥆ᥒ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

This is the first time I'm making a post focusing on venusian aspects, and I really want to seek deeper in this. Said that, here are some observations that I made of how your Venus can connect to the way you dress and express yourself through fashion

Venus ♀ in ♈︎ Aries: You like a vibrant, bitchy, bold but sensual style. You want people to be hypnotized, you like when your style is seen. You like to provoke, to be sensual, to be deep and intense in your style, dark colors or those that highlight you are preferred

e.g., Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Mariah Carey

Venus ♀ in ♓︎ Pisces: Chaotic, dreamy.. These people like to express their style in many ways, specially through makeup, which is their biggest highlight. To their clothes, a vivid but mystique pallette is preferred (girly pop if u ask me)

e.g., Karol G, Emma Watson, Emma Roberts

Venus ♀ in ♉︎ Taurus: Romantic, sensual, pure elegance. These people are sofisticated, huge Venus energy, which means a soft taste for clothes and a more refined fashion. Usually, power is demonstrated by their clothes, or a simple but classy way of styling is preferred. (No one can top them)

e.g., Lana Del Rey, Princess Diana, Ariana Grande

Venus ♀ in ♋︎ Cancer: Deep, profound and sensual. Omg this is one of the hottest Venus placements in my opinion, 'cuz like OMFGGG, why r yall people so damn hot?? So, BIG sex appeal, they have a magnetic style but it's deep, in a way that u can sense their energy. Usually, softer but shiny pallettes are used (they go hard with blue too!) with more comfy and light fabrics. Also, they have similarities with scorpio venus but they have a huge difference on their vibe (explanation on scorpio venus!)

e.g., Sabrina Carpenter, Angelina Jolie, Zendaya

Venus ♀ in ♒︎ Aquarius: Technologic, eccentric and alternative. The bold queens ig, they make their own trend, really natural and inspiring. I don't think that there's any preferred color or accessories, maybe something more metallic and shiny, a y2k vibe with popping colors or sum. They really make it their own way so it's hard to dictate yk

e.g., Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Paris Hilton

Venus ♀ in ♏︎ Scorpio: The edgy queens ig, you really give this darker/sensual vibe. People with venus in scorpio are pretty daring, they have this huge sex appeal. Darker colors specially red, black and blue are preferred, rubies and sapphires really suits them too. Overall, it's a heavy look, and it's raw yk, arguably one of my favorite venus signs along with cancer (they are similar, but scorpio is definitely heavier, darker and sexier, while cancer is softer and even light-looking in this aspect)

e.g., Anne Hathaway, Leonardo DiCaprio, Avril Lavigne

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ Thᥱ ᥱᥒd!’

And remember cuties, those are only tendencies and probabilities! Not everything is 100% accurate!!

Although, if u feel like you should start dressing like your Venus sign then do it! Dressing like our Venus sign can bring attention and even a better confidence! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

That's it!! If this post blows up then I'll be doing a part 2 with the other signs. Byee (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#astro placements #astro community #astroblr #astro observations #astro notes #astrology #venus #venus aspects #fashion #aquarius #scorpio #aries #pisces #cancer #taurus

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twistedsistas-stuff · 2 months ago

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School Daze’

Sammie Moore x reader.

Modern 90s/2000s College AU!

Wrd count; 12,440

Warnings: come on yall know me by now 😏(smut) Sammie Moore……

——————————

Back in school, you wasn’t ever that girl folks looked twice at. Glasses too big, always ducked off somewhere, eyes to the floor like you was scared to be seen. You kept to yourself mostly. Not all the way solo—you had a lil crew. Two, maybe three homegirls, but y’all was all on the same wave. Quiet. Closed off. Real lowkey.

But your girls started poppin’ over time—glowin’ up for real. Got they first lil boyfriends. Started rockin’ with dance teams, joinin’ clubs, throwin’ on them cheer uniforms. Meanwhile, you stayed tucked in. No boyfriend, no flings, no nothin’. Head always in a book, studyin’ for some exam that wasn’t even on the radar yet. Two semesters ahead, tryna be grown before you had to be.You did have one lil crush though—if that’s what you could even call it that.

His name stayed floatin’ down them hallways like the beat of a marching band on game day. He had that kinda presence—loud without even sayin’ nothin’. You used to tag along to his games with your girls, sittin’ up in them bleachers pretendin’ like you was there for the team. But truth was, you barely even cheered. Just watched. Quiet. Nervous. Lowkey fascinated.

You liked Sammie in that way where just hearin’ his voice made your heart do flips. Couldn’t even look him in the eye. That country accent? Whew. Only ever caught it when he passed by, talkin’ to his boys or flirtin’ with some girl in 3rd period.

Then one day he was gone. Transferred schools—somethin’ about bigger chances, better shine. You ain’t ask too many questions.

And just like that, the crush faded. So did that version of you.

Your girls held you down, pulled you outta that shell. Got you dressin’ different. Walkin’ different. Laughin’ louder. You was still shy, yeah, but you had a lil swag now. Started feelin’ yourself. Steppin’ into that new vibe. That grown woman glow-up.

And for the first time… you was feelin’ real good. Like, damn, this might be my season.

Delta U had that feel to it. That’s why you chose it.

Like somethin’ out a Spike Lee joint or a Jill Scott song—Black, loud, full of soul. First week on campus was like a block party and a family reunion all wrapped in one. Greek orgs out on the yard strollin’, grills fired up on the lawn, somebody’s cousin tryna DJ off a Bluetooth speaker while the Ques already sweatin’ through they shirts. Whole campus smelled like shea butter and BBQ chicken. It was Welcome Day. And your dorm? A whole mess of chaos and lip gloss. You was posted up on the edge of your bed, half-dressed, heart racin’. “I don’t think I wanna go, y’all,” you mumbled, barely audible over the music comin’ from the hallway.

They all groaned in unison like a tired choir. “Here she go again, y’all,” one said, floppin’ down on the bed across from you.

“Girl, don’t piss me off tonight,” your other homegirl snapped, already halfway through her winged eyeliner.

Then the ringleader of the crew—the bold one with the rat tail comb always ready to check somebody—got dead in your face. Eye to eye. That comb damn near touched your nose.

“Look, bitch,” she said real calm, too calm. “It’s fine-ass niggas outside. The sun out. You thick as hell. And guess what? We in college now. Not high school. Not church. College. So guess what we doin’? We goin’ out.”

She spun away like she dropped the mic. You sighed, stood up, and turned to the mirror. Took yourself in.

Them little jean shorts was hangin’ on by faith and friction. Your thighs was thangin’. Your chest sittin’ real proper thanks to the double-bra combo your homegirl swore by. You turned side to side, let out a tiny smile.

You knew you looked good.

“Aight, y’all… I’m ready.”

You turned back to face the room, grinnin’ from ear to ear.

The whole squad paused for half a second—then exploded. Screamin', tongues out, feet stompin', hypin’ you like you just stepped on stage at Homecoming.

“OKAY MISS MA’AM!”

“YES THICKNESS!”

“We outside tonight!”

Y’all laughed, yellin' over each other, snatchin’ purses and keys, lip glosses flyin'.

Ready for whatever the night was gonna bring.

And in that moment? You wasn’t shy no more.

You was just her.

Y’all finally hit the yard, and it felt like the ground was vibrating beneath your feet. Bass thumpin’ so hard your chest caught the beat before your ears did. Speakers stacked on folding tables, Greek letters spray-painted on bedsheets hangin' off dorm windows.

Boys in jerseys sweatin’ and flexin’. Girls in sundresses glistening in the heat, edges laid, gold hoops swingin’. DJ shoutin’ over the mic, “WELCOME TO DELTA U, CLASS OF LEGENDS!” and the crowd goin’ stupid.

Y’all walked through like you owned the place, hips swayin’, laughs high-pitched, bodies glistening in that 5 p.m. sun. Somebody handed you a red cup—pink punch with that bite in it. You took a sip and coughed low, but didn’t let it show. Your girls was already two-steppin’ near the speakers, hips rollin’ to the beat. Dudes slid up behind ‘em, tryna catch a vibe.

“Ayo, ma, you got a man?” one dude tried, leanin' in a lil too close.

Your homegirl turned around slow, gave him a once-over. “I got three. All of 'em crazy.”

“Damn, you can’t just say no?”

“I did say no,” she said, turning right back to the beat like he ain’t exist.

Another boy tried your other friend: “You dance like that in church too?”

“Only if Jesus show up wearin’ grey sweatpants.”

He stood there stunned while she twirled away, drink in hand, and you laughed—finally loosening up.

You were buzzed just enough to stop overthinking, but not enough to stop squintin'. Your lashes too long for your glasses, so everything looked like it had that soft blur to it.

You kept glancing around the yard, eyes skimming faces. Not really lookin’ for nobody… just watchin’. Floatin’

Then—bump.

Hard shoulder to your arm. Your drink flew out your hand like it got snatched by the air.

“Shit—!”

Your cup hit the grass with a soft splat, pink liquid staining the blades.

Your girls turned fast.

“Damn! You can’t say ‘scuse me, nigga?” your girl barked, already turnin’ up.

His boys stepped forward like what’s up then, all arms folded and necks cocked.

“Man, y’all too loud for no reason. It was an accident.”

“Accident is trippin’ over a curb. He bodied her like she ain’t got bones!”

“Nah, y’all better back up ‘fore we get un-Christian out here.”

You stayed quiet, eyes still low, focused on that cup layin’ sideways in the grass. Lips pressed tight.

You didn’t like scenes.

Didn’t like heat that wasn’t from the sun.

Then you heard it.

“I’m sorry ma.”

“I ain’t mean to.”

That voice.

Soft drawl. Familiar rhythm. Sounded like old gum wrappers and middle school yearbooks. Like gym bleachers and hallway whispers.

You blinked.

A hand—big, warm, steady—came into view. Reached down, picked up your cup like it was glass instead of plastic. And as your eyes followed his fingers up to his wrist, to his arm, to his—

“...Sammie.”

You said it out loud before you could catch yourself.

All your girls paused mid-argument. Froze. One even blinked twice like she needed confirmation.

“Oh mf! Why didn’t you say it was you?” your homegirl shouted at him, pushing her lipgloss back into her purse.

He looked at her for a second, then back at you. Smiling like trouble you knew better than to want.

“I remember you,” he said, voice low, rich.

“Quiet lil thang.”

He stepped back just a bit, eyes dragging over you real slow. Licked his lips. That old

Sammie habit.

You tried to hold it in, but your smile betrayed you. It was comin’ anyway, soft and shiny like the gloss your girl put on you.

Your girls noticed. Of course they did.

They looked at each other eyebrows raised, hands covering grins, whisperin' fast.

You panicked. Had to say something.

You cleared your throat. “I remember you too… benchwarmer.”

“Oooooooohh!”

His boys hollered behind him, all hands to their mouths, jokin’ like they was on the schoolyard again. Sammie dropped his head, one hand rubbin' over his waves, that crooked smile sneakin’ back out.

“It’s like that, ma?” he said, eyes locked on you.

“Maybe,” you replied, real smooth. Then turned around like it was nothin’.

You walked off, hips steady, heart doin’ flips. Your girls followed close behind, mouths pressed shut just enough to stop screamin’. Y’all didn’t have to say it—but they knew.

You wasn’t just out here now.

You was in it.

The party was long gone, the music a ghost now, just bass memories still rattlin' in your chest.

Your dorm was dim, lit only by the soft blue TV glow and a phone light somebody forgot to turn off. One of your girls was already knocked out across her bed, one shoe still on. The other halfway under the covers, lashes askew, mouth wide open. They didn’t even bother changin’.

You laid there for a second, buzz finally faded, makeup itchin', body tired but restless.

So you got up. Showered slow. Let the heat wash over you until the bass left your bones.

Now you were in your real skin. No lashes, no gloss. Just you. Clean. Barefaced. Sports bra, cotton shorts, big t-shirt. Edges puffed up, bonnet tied loose. Slippers slid on, keycard in hand.

You went lookin' for a snack—first the mini fridge, then the cabinets. Nothin’ but dry-ass ramen, ketchup packets, and your roommate’s suspicious yogurt.

You sighed, tugged your t-shirt lower, and shuffled down the hall to the vending machines.

The hallway was quiet, just the hum of old AC and the click of your steps.

You stood there, starin' through the glass like it was gonna speak to you. Your finger hovered over the buttons. Hot Cheetos? Snickers? Twix?

“Damn, the machine got you stuck like that?”

You turned, slow.

Sammie.

Leanin' in the doorway like he belonged there, hoodie half-zipped, white tee underneath, chain glintin’ under the cheap fluorescent lights. Eyes real low. Smile even lower.

You rolled your eyes. “Why are you even in here?”

He stepped forward with a smirk.

“Co-ed, baby.”

You sighed and pressed B7. The machine groaned, then thunked out your Twix. You bent to grab it, not even thinkin’ about it.

Sammie thought about it though. Thought about it real hard.

His eyes trailed up from your calves, slow like honey. To the curve of your thighs. To the way them shorts barely held on. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Cornbread-fed. Just how he liked ‘em. He was from the South—he didn’t believe in women who couldn’t hold a plate or carry a man’s whole attention without even trying.

You stood back up, unbothered. Turned to him.

“Get a good look, pervert?”

You slid past him.

“I don’t know… let me see again,” he

grinned.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Horny lil’ boy.”

“I was jokin’, you know that, mama,” he said, stepping up close behind you. His arms slid over your shoulders like he done it before.

“Boy, if you don’t get off me—”

He laughed but held on tighter. “Why you bein’ like that?”

“I ain’t bein’ like nothing. Boy, you got all these girls on you already. Drama ain’t for me.”

He leaned back, blinked like you just told him the sky was purple. “And it’s for me?”

You gave him that be serious look. Chin tilted, eyes narrowed.

“I’m serious,” he said, voice low now. “Them girls just… girls. That’s it.”

You looked at him like he was wearin’ stupidity on his chest instead of that chain.

“Boy, you don’t even make sense.”

You didn’t wait for him to try again. You turned. Walked.

“Goodnight, Moore.”

Back in your dorm, you slipped into bed, pulled the blanket up, popped a DVD into your player— Brown Sugar—just somethin’ soft and familiar.

You watched the screen flicker, eyes growin’ heavy.

He wasn’t in the room.

But he was in your head now.

And you hated that.

The dining hall was loud like always—linoleum floors, the smell of syrup and turkey bacon mixin' with cheap coffee and last night’s regrets. You sat at your usual table, bonnet still on, hoodie zipped, tray full of breakfast you barely picked at. Your girls were all around you, gigglin' between bites, still full off last night’s turn-up.

“I know you not gon’ sit there and act like that ain’t Sammie Moore had you stuck at the vending machine like a redbone deer in headlights,” one of your girls said, grinnin’ wide.

“I was not stuck. I was mindin’ my business.”

“Chile please,” another said, mouth full of biscuit, “you was starin’ like he had a scholarship between his lips.”

You rolled your eyes, sippin’ your orange juice. “I don’t even like what he stand for. He drama. I ain’t come to college for all that. I’m tryna keep it cute, keep it clean, get my degree.”

“Cute and clean, huh?” your friend teased.

“Is that what they call that ass you had out last night?”

You swatted her with a napkin, smilin’ despite yourself.

That’s when some boys walked over—three of them, tall and lookin’ like trouble dressed in varsity jackets and gold chains. One had dreads, the other two low fades. But it was the one in the black tank and Cuban link that caught your attention first.

He locked eyes with you like he already knew your name.

“’Scuse me,” he said, voice low and syrupy, “didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Smoke.”

You raised a brow, not budgin’. “I don’t do nicknames.”

He smiled slow, head tilt slight. “Then let’s get it right. Elias.”

That name sat nice on his lips.

You felt your spine react before your mouth even moved.

You cleared your throat, coolin’ the smile that wanted to creep. “Okay then, Elias.”

“Okay then,” he said back, eyes takin’ you in respectful—but not shy.

He turned a little so he wasn’t blockin’ your homegirls. “Y’all should come out tonight. We throwin’ somethin’ over on Palmer. Real easy. Just vibes.”

He looked back to you. “Be good to see you there.”

Then just like that, he turned and walked off, smooth like the song playin’ low from somebody’s speaker nearby. You blinked, caught off guard.

“Uhhh–HELLO?” your girls said in unison, smacking the table.

“You better get your ass in formation!”

“Girl, who was THAT?”

“Baby I’m wearin’ heels tonight—I don’t care if my ankles bleed.”

You laughed, tray forgotten, heart a lil' fluttery. “I mean… why not?”

And right on cue—like somebody summoned him with your thoughts—Sammie walked up, his boys trailing behind, chain swayin’ over his chest, durag tied down, eyes already scanning the table.

“What y’all so juiced about?” he asked, a lazy grin on his face.

You didn’t even flinch. “Elias invited us to his party.”

His smile dipped, just a second. He looked off to where Elias and his boys were posted up.

“Word?”

“Mhm. Said it’d be good to see me there.”

You said it calm. But your girls caught the shift—Sammie’s jaw tightenin’, the light in his eyes dimmin’ just a touch. He played it off though, noddin' once.

You tilted your head, leaned forward just a little.

“You jealous?”

He looked down at you, lips pressed but still smirkin’.

“Nah. Ain’t no reason to be.”

You stood up, the air thick now, the table quiet like the cafeteria just paused for y’all.

“You want me,” you said, eyes never leavin’ his.

He stepped up, close, eye to eye. He was taller, but you ain’t back down.

“I do,” he said, noddin’ once.

That heat was back—heavy like the Delta sun in July. You felt it, and you liked it.

You looked in each of his eyes slow, readin’ the want sittin' behind them lids.

“Drop the hoes then, Moore.”

You popped your gum, eyes draggin’ down his chest and back up like you were takin' inventory. Then you turned and walked off with your girls, hips swingin’, all of them whisper-screamin’ behind you like high school all over again.

Sammie and his boys were still there, stuck in place.

One of his boys leaned close, clapped his shoulder.

“Better get busy, my boy.”

He didn’t say nothin’, just smiled slow, hands in his pockets as he watched you leave.

He had a type, sure.

But you weren’t a type. You were a whole damn category.

And Sammie Moore wanted all of it.

Music knockin’ low from the speaker—some classic R&B remix with a new-school beat. Perfume in the air. Heat from flat irons and the smell of edge control mixin’ with laughter. You and your girls were in full formation, baddie-mode activated.

Legs out, arms oiled, bangles singin’ every time y’all moved. Lip gloss poppin’, shades sittin’ right on top of your brows. You had on a lil Baby Phat-style jean romper, hugging every curve like it got hands.

Pumps to the sky. Hair curled up with that midnight bounce—your mama would’ve smiled seein’ them braids had finally done what they was supposed to.

You posed in the mirror, tongue peeking between your teeth, adjusting your hoops.

“Damn, I love college,” one of your girls said, doing a slow turn in the mirror.

Another smacked her gum, tossing her curls. “Both them boy crews? Whew. It's like God dropped fine into the registration office.”

“Okay, but who you tryna lock in with?” they asked, looking right at you.

You smirked, sliding your shades down your nose.

“Let’s see who show up tonight.”

They screamed. Laughed loud. Even the shy one was gigglin’. You all looked too good to be humble.

You raised your arm up, gold bracelet catchin’ the light.

“TO COLLEGE!”

They all clinked their red cups with yours. “TO COLLEGE!”

The energy was different on this side—lower, smokier, but just as electric. Loud bass thumped from a Bluetooth speaker, weed smoke curling up to the ceiling fan.

Sammie was leaned back on the futon, durag hangin’ off, T-shirt stretched over his chest, black jeans crisp. One of his boys rollin’ a blunt, another lined himself up in the mirror with a phone flashlight.

“Bro…” one of them said, already crackin’ up.

Sammie looked up, raising a brow.

“You really gon’ act like we ain’t watch ole girl stiff-arm you in the caf this morning?”

The whole room broke out laughin’.

Sammie shook his head, grinnin'. He could take it.

“Aye, man…” he exhaled, takin’ the blunt slow. “Y’all wild. I ain’t even on that lil groupie run no more. I’m tryna make her mine. Real talk.”

One of his boys mugged up, snatching the blunt.

“Man, here you go with that soft shit again.”

He hit it, exhaled deep, voice cuttin' through the smoke.

“All I know is—her girls? Man... them girls look like they stepped out a Vibe magazine.”

The room lit up with head nods, somebody clappin’.

“They bad bad.” “I’m talkin’ curated bad.”

“Shit,” another said, sittin’ up, “we could all lock in tonight.”

The whole room paused, lookin’ around.

“Oh nah, y’all niggas trippin’,” one laughed.

Sammie stood, brushing his shirt off, lookin’ in the mirror like he was about to sign a deal. Ran his hand over his waves, durag in one hand, gold watch glintin’ under the light.

He looked through the mirror at his boys, confidence written all over his face.

“Let’s roll.”

They stood like a unit—too loud, too good-lookin’ for their own good.

The four of you stepped out that car like destiny walkin’ on heels. Laughter on your lips, gloss shinin’ under the porch lights, hips swayin’ to the beat echoing out the open doors.

Elias was the first to greet y’all.

“Whewww—look at this,” he said, leanin’ against the porch post like he been waitin’ all night. “If y’all was any finer, I’d need a warning label just to breathe.”

You smiled without tryin’, lookin’ away as your girls giggled. His boys peeled off fast, gravitatin’ toward your crew like bees to fresh honey.

Elias took a step closer, hand brushing the small of your back.

“You came,” he said, voice low and smooth.

“I said I would,” you replied, tryin’ like hell not to let his cologne live rent-free in your chest.

“Come on, let’s grab a drink.”

He led you through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, the house alive with bass and bodies. Somewhere between the kitchen and hallway, a Soul Train line was tryin’ to start.

Girls were twerkin’ like it paid the rent. Air hot. Thick with weed. Full of life.

Y’all stopped at the drink table—red cups stacked, Jungle Juice swirling in a Gatorade cooler.

“You want sweet or strong?” Elias asked, already pourin’.

“Strong,” you said, takin’ the cup from him—fingers brushing, eyes meeting.

Leanin’ against the counter, y’all fell into that low talk. He told you about his major, his plans, how he liked how you carried yourself. Quiet confidence, he called it.

You were just startin’ to let your smile relax when—

He walked in.

Sammie Moore.

Black tee clingin’ to his chest, pants sittin’ grown-man low, chain swayin’ like a whisper.

That smirk already cocked on his lips like he knew the script before the scene started. His eyes scanned the room once—twice—

Then locked on you.

You. And Elias.

You felt it in your neck, your spine, the base of your stomach.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t speak. Just dipped his chin, gave you that look, and walked deeper into the crowd—dap-tappin’, noddin’ to the beat like it was just another Friday night.

But it wasn’t.

Elias leaned close, voice soft in your ear.

“That your man or somethin’?”

You shook your head, steadyin’ yourself.

“No.”

He grinned. “Good. Come dance with me then.”

You followed him to the living room-turned-dancefloor, Jungle Juice in hand. The song shifted—Aaliyah’s “One in a Million” remix slid in low and sensual.

Y’all moved close. That slow grind—just enough to spark heat but not burn. Elias knew how to move. Hand on your waist. Breath near your ear.

But your eyes kept driftin’.

Across the room—Sammie, posted on the wall. Watchin’. Not hiding it. Jaw tight. Eyes hard.

He wasn’t sayin’ a word, but his body was yelling loud.

That look? That look said you had no damn business lookin’ that good with somebody else.

The song faded. Elias leaned back just a little, like he might say something deeper.

But then—

You felt it.

A hand on your wrist.

“Lemme borrow her real quick,” Sammie said, low and gravelly, eyes never leavin’ yours.

Elias raised his brows, but you already knew. You nodded at Elias, heart thumpin', and let Sammie guide you away.

He pulled you down a short hallway, the noise behind y’all fading into a hum.

“Boy, what the hell is wrong with you?” you said, tryin’ to snatch your arm back—but not really.

Sammie turned, steppin’ close ‘til the wall kissed your back.

“You was lookin’ too good to be up on him like that,” he muttered, voice thick.

You blinked at him, lips parted, chest tight.

“Elias don’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

He smirked, leanin’ in, his breath all up in your space.

“Then why you keep lookin’ at me like he do?”

No answer. Not with his hand braced beside your head, not with that fire in his eyes like he was daring you to lie.

Your breath caught. His face inched closer.

“You know I want you.”

You swallowed, eyes lockin’ with his.

“I told you,” you whispered. “Drop the hoes, Sammie.”

He paused.

Then smiled.

“Watch me.”

Next day, class hit—but your mind was somewhere else. Still buzzin’ from the party, from the hallway, from the way Sammie looked at you like you was the only thing in that room.

 You slid into your usual seat in the back of the lecture hall. Hoodie on, lips glossed, eyes low. Tryna stay out the way.

Then the door opened—and the whispers started before you even turned around. It was him. Sammie Moore.

 Steppin’ in like the whole classroom was his stage.

Girls straightened in their chairs. You could hear the lil, “Hey Sammie,” “Oh my God he in this class?” floatin’ through the air like perfume.

 He didn’t give none of ’em no play. Just scanned the room, eyes movin’—’til they locked on you like a bullseye. Then he grinned.

Next thing you know, he joggin’ up the stairs—loud, on purpose—then flopped down next to you like he’d been doin’ it all semester. His arm slid over the back of your chair, all casual, like it belonged there.

You ain’t say nothin’ at first. Just stared straight ahead, pretendin’ like your heart wasn’t thumpin’ out your chest.

“Morning,” he said, voice low and lazy—like y’all just rolled outta bed together. “You miss me?”

You sucked your teeth, tryna hide your smile. “Boy, get on.”

He chuckled, leaned back, spread his legs wider like he paid rent in the seat.

That’s when they walked up—two girls in Fashion Nova fits, tryin’ to play it off like they needed help with the syllabus.

 One leaned in too close, eyes skippin’ past you like you ain’t even there.

“You really not gon’ say hey to nobody now?” she said, twisting her mouth. “You actin’ brand new, Sammie.”

He didn’t even blink. Didn’t shift. Didn’t smile.

 “Nah. I’m good.”

The other girl gave you the slow once-over, nose turned up. “You ain’t even all that. He gon’ treat you the same way he did the rest of us.”

This was exactly what you meant. You wasn’t even gon’ say nothin’. You ain’t need to.

But Sammie turned—slow. Looked her dead in the face.

 And when he spoke? His voice dropped into somethin’ you hadn’t heard before—deep, steady, real.

“I don’t talk to girls like this,” he said, jaw tight. “But for her? I will. So back the fuck up.”

Silence.

You blinked. Looked at him like… who is this?

He was still watchin’ them, unblinking. Daring one of ’em to say something.

 They didn’t. Just rolled their eyes and stomped off, heels clackin’ down the stairs.

You turned back to him, still lowkey stunned.

“You don’t talk to girls like that?” you said quiet, voice almost teasing.

He leaned in, looked you dead in the eye.

“Nah. Never had a reason to.”

Your heart dipped, flipped, did all types of flips.

You looked at him like you wanted to be mad… but you wasn’t. Not even close.

Class started. Professor talkin’ about somethin’ you couldn’t even pretend to care about.

 ‘Cause next to you? Sammie’s knee kept brushin’ yours. His arm still draped behind you. And that look on his face?

Like you was already his.

Professor Davis was old-school. Always came in wearin’ some too-tight slacks, cologne from the ‘70s, and vibes like he been waitin’ all year to catch somebody slippin’.

 He clapped his hands once—loud—snappin’ everybody out they whisperin’ and giggling ’.

“Aight class, listen up. Time to separate the passers from the repeaters. First project of the semester starts today. Two-person teams. Full breakdown due in three weeks. I’m assigning partners—don’t come cryin’ to me.”

You sat up straight. That anxious flutter startin’ in your chest.

 You always took school serious. GPA clean. Ain’t no way you was about to let some random boy mess that up.

Professor started callin’ names off his clipboard, pairin’ folks up one by one. “Danielle and Marcus… Tiffany and Kayla…”

You tuned most of it out, until— he looked up pen pointing through the seats before his eyes landed on you.

“You… and Sammie Moore.”

The whole row went: “Ooooooooh.”

You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Lord, why me?

Sammie? Of all people?

You turned your head slow, like maybe you heard it wrong.

But there he was—grinnin’ like he just won a Grammy.

 Mouth wide open. Gold flashin’.

He slapped the desk once and leaned into your space, breath smellin’ like spearmint and sin.

“Oh, this gone be fun,” he said, teeth gleamin’.

You sighed. Loud.

“I ain’t never even seen you with a syllabus, Sammie.”

He threw his head back laughin’. “Ayo chill on me! I’m tryna turn over a new leaf. Be a scholar n’ whatnot.”

You side-eyed him. “You ever even own a textbook?”

He pointed at your bag. “Nah… but you do. And since we partners… closed mouths don’t get honor roll.”

You blinked, jaw tight. “Lord.”

He leaned closer, voice low, smooth. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You crossed your arms.

“I don’t even know you.”

He grinned wider, tapped the desk twice. “Well. Guess that’s what the project’s for.”

Sammie kept it one hundred. He said he’d put in work—and he did. Showin’ up every day like clockwork. Sometimes early, posted up outside the library like he belonged there.

“Thought I’d get a head start,” he’d say, flashin’ that cocky half-smile.

 “Or maybe I just like lookin’ at you tryna act like you ain’t impressed by a nigga.”

You’d scoff, but you never sent him away. Truth was—he was tryin’. Hard.

He’d sit across from you, brow furrowed, tryna follow your notes while low-key givin’ you his own kind of test.

“Yo, derivatives?” he said one day, flippin’ his notebook around with dramatic flair. “These just wild disrespectful.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself—and he grinned like he just won the championship game.

“There she go,” he said. “Knew I could crack that mean girl shit eventually.”

You tried to play it cool. “Focus, Samuel.”

“I am focused,” he said, eyes lockin’ on you just long enough to make your heart skip.

 “On the sexiest tutor on campus. Don’t blame a nigga if you distractin’.”

Every time he talked slick like that, you swore you wouldn’t react.

 But your cheeks always gave you away—heat risin’ like you caught a sunburn indoors.

“That a blush?” he teased, leanin’ in like he tryna get a better look. “Don’t start fallin’ for me now.”

“In your dreams,” you shot back. But even you heard the smile in your voice.

From then on, study sessions were never just about the project.

 He’d pass you a highlighter and let his fingers graze yours.

 Let y’all knees touch under the table like it wasn’t on purpose.

 Lean over your shoulder like he tryna read the worksheet—when really, he just wanted to breathe you in.

“Okay, brainiac,” he’d say when you breezed through a problem. “You really just be out here rememberin’ formulas off the dome like that? You sexy as hell.”

You froze. “Sammie.”

“What?” He shrugged, all fake innocence. Eyes scanning you full of anything but. “I’m just sayin’— brains and looks? That’s dangerous.”

It wasn’t long before you started leanin’ in too.

 Not ‘cause you had to. But because you wanted to.

Little things added up.

 A hand on your back when he leaned closer. The way his eyes tracked every word when you explained something. Really listened.

 Like you was the only person in the room.

He still messed up equations. Still talked too much. Still flirted like it was second nature.

But he was showin’ up. Every time. 

For you.

And somewhere between late-night study grinds and lowkey heart flutters… Sammie Moore stopped bein’ the boy from the back of the class and started becoming the one who had you smilin’ between blinks, blushin’ between smile lines and fallin’ just a little harder every time he cracked a joke.

College life meant party life—and here y’all go again.

Your girls talkin’ you into steppin’ out with ’em.

 You was easier to convince than usual. All it took was them bringin’ up Sammie.

“How close is close?” one of ’em asked, nudgin’ you.

 You tried to play it off, but that blush crept up quick.

“He just… I mean…”

 You rolled your eyes, but you told ’em. How fine he was. How deep his voice got when he was focused. How you couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Who said you had to?” one of them smirked.

Another girl leaned in, fanning herself. “I bet he talk you through it too,” she said, and y’all lost it, laughin’ all over again.

You grabbed your gloss, touched up in the mirror, and tried not to smile so hard. You was feelin’ yourself tonight. And you should.

Y’all finally headed out—heels clickin’, perfume thick in the air, dressed like you had something to prove. Which maybe you did.

Or maybe… you just knew Sammie was gon’ be there.

 And tonight, you was gon’ let him see it.

The party started before y’all even hit the door. Lights low. Bass heavy. Air thick with perfume, weed, and sweat. Everything bathed in that purple-blue glow like a dream you wasn’t supposed to wake up from.

Y’all pulled up together—but separate. You and your girls all sharp edges and lip gloss, heels clickin’, skin glistenin’ like honey under neon.

 Them and Sammie? Posted on the opposite sidewalk, black tees, gold chains, eyes cuttin’ through the dark like heat.

It was automatic.

 You stepped out the car and locked eyes with him.

 Sammie already waitin’. Already smilin’.

“Damn,” he said under his breath, loud enough for the fellas to hear. “Y’all see this?”

You tried not to, but you blushed. Again.

Your girls noticed. Teased you. One popped your arm with her clutch, whisperin’, “Girl, if you don’t go say hey—”

But you ain’t have to.

 Sammie was already crossin’ the street. Already comin’ to get you.

He stopped in front of you, the world hummin’ low behind his eyes.

“You wear that for me?” His voice hit your chest first, then your knees.

 You looked him up and down—black denim, clean kicks, rings on his fingers, that gold chain you always noticed when he was leanin’ over your notes.

“You think everything for you,” you murmured, tryin’ to sound unaffected.

He just grinned. “Only the good shit.”

Your girls and his boys fell into that easy, flirty back-and-forth.

 Laughin’, flirtin’, dappin’ each other up like this was just another night. But you and Sammie?

 Y’all was in your own bubble. One step slower. One look longer.

And when the door to the club cracked open, that bassline slid out like smoke—and Sammie turned to you.

“Aight,” he said, reaching for you smooth and easy, like he already had the right. 

Arm slid over your shoulder. Firm. Warm. Protective.

 “Come on. You wit’ me.”

And just like that, you let him guide you in.

Walkin’ through that crowd like you was made for it.

 Shoulder to chest, his hand droppin’ to your hip when somebody brushed too close. Eyes on the DJ, the dancers, the lights—but always comin’ back to you.

Inside, it was wall-to-wall heat.

 Bodies movin’. Drinks spillin’. Hooks loopin’. Lights stutterin’ like camera flashes in slow motion.

Sammie leaned down, lips close to your ear. “You good?”

You nodded, barely able to hear yourself think.

 But his arm didn’t move. Stayed locked around you like it belonged there. And for the first time… you let it. Let yourself settle into it.

Let yourself feel how good it felt to be next to him—not just in study halls or library booths, but here.

 In the lights. In the noise. In his world.

Some girl tried to come up. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

 Just kept his body turned toward you like she wasn’t even there.

“You drink?” he asked, mouth back at your ear. You nodded again. And just like that—he was leading you through the crowd, still holdin’ you close.

You felt eyes. Felt envy.

 Felt the beat thumpin’ in your chest.

But most of all—you felt safe.

Like maybe, just maybe… this boy was serious.

Like maybe… you was ready to find out.

Sammie didn’t say nothin’—just nodded toward the back, hand still resting heavy on your waist as he guided you through the bodies like he had a key to every room in the house.

Past the living room speakers, past the swayin’ couples, past the girl in red heels dancin’ like she ain’t have a care in the world.

The kitchen was cooler, quieter. Dim light from the stove clock. Ice clinkin’ in cheap glass cups.

 Somebody’s cousin passed by with a bottle tucked under his arm and a blunt behind his ear. Didn’t even look twice at y’all.

Sammie stepped to the counter, opened the fridge like it was his place.

“What you drink?” he asked, back still to you.

You shrugged, leanin’ against the island. “Pick for me.”

He turned, brow raised. “You don’t drink like I do.”

You tilted your head, smirkin’ just a lil. “Try me.”

He chuckled—low, lazy. “This gone be funny,” he said, grabbing a red bottle and somethin’ brown from the corner.

 Poured heavy in two cups, eyes low from the weed hummin’ through his system.

Then he took a sip.

 Slow.

 Eyes on you the whole time.

Mouth still on the rim when your gaze dropped—followin’ the line of his throat, the way he pulled back from the cup slow, lips glossy, glistening under the overhead light.

He wiped his hand down his mouth, rings glintin’, and your eyes tracked every. damn. move.

Then—he licked his lips. Just once.

Your gaze dropped there, couldn’t help it. You watched his tongue slide across those thick lips, the gold of his slugs lookin at you.

He stepped in closer, the space between y’all shrinkin’ like breath in cold air.

 Held your cup in one hand, lifted your chin just a touch with the other.

“Go 'head,” he said, voice dipped in honey and dare. “Let’s see if you real.”

You opened your mouth, and he pushed the cup to your lips—fingers gentle, but sure. His other hand slid back, found the nape of your neck, thumb pressin’ just enough to ground you.

You drank.

All the while, his eyes never left you—low, watchful, wantin’.

 That tilted POV got you dizzy, heat spreadin’ slow down your spine.

 He smelled like kush and cologne and the sweat on his skin. You looked up from under your lashes, caught his mouth twitchin’ like he was thinkin’ somethin’ he couldn’t say out loud.

You dropped the cup without speakin’.

He let it fall—plastic, not glass—no spill. No need to say nothin’.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, slow. Wet. Glossy. Warm.

He hummed low in his throat. “Sweet,” he said. Could’ve meant the drink. Could’ve meant you. Didn’t matter.

Then he pulled back, just enough to breathe, fingers curlin’ around yours. Didn’t tug. Didn’t pull. Just led.

Back through the smoke and color. Back to the music, where it was louder, hotter.

 Back to the floor, where the bass made your bones hum and the lights turned his eyes to fire.

Hand in hand.

You and him.

And this time… you didn’t let go.

AYEEE my first req of many whoever requested this it got too long baby this coming in parts but enjoy thiss one 😏

Pt2 here😫

Next up is : @yourm0mish0t Sammie x Reader cause yall can’t get enough. It’ll come soon so here’s a title ‘songbird sins’ #staytuned #stayloyal #stayfreaky

#black reader #sinners #x reader #elias moore #elijah moore #pearline #preacher boy #ryan coogler #smoke and stack #smut #sammie x reader #sammie moore #preacher boy sammie #sammie sinners

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