#aside from pets of course

[just-a-mod]

DA:VG spoilers

I didn't know what real love felt like

until you took my dwarf from me

I'll wear your pelt and see your fucking legacy burn.

[robinsnest2111]

still trying to figure out how my brain came up with last night's dream scenario where I was collared and leashed and there were several people enthusiastically cuddling and petting me. at one point I was on my knees on the floor and got pulled closer by my leash to someone sitting on a bed/couch, then I got headpats and chin scritches.

[froggiequarium]

(unedited) nsfw; caleb having you in a headlock & fcking you into the mattress :x inspo from this art based on this imagine

-

you'd always had a hard time keeping your eyes in check whenever caleb wore shirts that accentuated his arms, namely the loose tanks he'd sport in the warmer weather or even just during his workout.

you tried your best to hide it, you really did, but it was difficult to keep yourself in check when every subtle move or flex of his arm clearly showed off his bulging muscles.

aside from endless admiration for them, you often fantasized about having one of his beefy arms trapping you in a headlock, just to feel his strength in such a vulnerable state.

which is how you're here now, flat on your stomach against the mattress, meaty bicep wrapped around your neck, hands weakly gripping at the thick limb, gasping and choking out moans, drool seeping past your lips as caleb's body presses yours into the mattress, driving his hips against yours, the sinful sound of your connection ringing throughout the bedroom.

"couldn't stop starin' at em, could you? nngh, bet you were just waitin' for me to take you like this..."

his breath is raspy against your ear, only pulling another choked moan from your throat. caleb huffs out a laugh.

"you like when i get a little rough with you like this, don't you?"

you breathe out a sigh, floating to another world as he rams repeatedly into you, hips stuttering for a moment.

"ah, shit, you just clenched down on me. you're enjoying this, huh?"

"ca-leb—"

you needily gasp out his name, drool slipping past the corner of your lips and down his arm, the man wickedly grinning down at you in response, pace steady and punctuated, feeling your walls fluttering and clenching more and more— a sign that you're getting close.

he releases the pressure on your throat just slightly, your pretty sounds and whines going straight to his cock, ploughing faster into you, leaning closer to your ear, body crushing you into the mattress so fully.

you loved being taken like this.

"gonna make you feel real good, ok?" his voice is a sensual whisper against the shell of your ear.

"please... please, caleb! so close, hahhh" you whine under him, boneless body completely at his mercy.

in the next second, the pressure around your throat increases again at the same time that he slams against that sweet spot inside of you. he feels you clench down hard, groan escaping through gritted teeth as your eyes roll back, nails digging into the flesh of his arm, mouth falling open at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

airway constricted by the colonel on top of you, your sounds are choked, only managing needy pants as you reach your summit, cumming hard around caleb's thick cock still driving into you, helping you ride through your high.

"that's it, that's my good girl... shit, you really liked that, huh?"

he softens his grip again, hearing you gasp out for him, pleading whines of his name escaping your hoarse throat as he drives you into overstimulation.

"ca—leb, ah— sensi-tive, ah~"

"almost there, princess, almost—"

with a few more harsh thrusts, caleb cums with a loud groan, spilling himself completely inside of you. you whine underneath him at the sensation, weak and overstimulated from the treatment, courtesy of the man above you. you're trying your best to even out your breathing, fatigue tugging at your droopy eyelids.

caleb leans his head over your shoulder, planting a soft kiss against your bare shoulder blade.

"you okay, pipsqueak?"

"tired...." you whine, arms moving to hug his arm still around you, nestling your head against it.

he breathes out a laugh, warming your skin.

"yeah, i bet you are," he breaths out, free hand moving up to pet your head.

"let me clean my pretty girl up," he muses.

you hum, letting your eyes shut as he lifts himself off of you. you feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whimper at the loss before calming once more, breaths evening out waiting for caleb to return and clean you up.

and just as the edges of sleep are gripping at whats left of your consciousness, one singular thought circulates your mind:

you both definitely need to do that again.

-

this has been sitting here for a bit but i needed to finish it bc the art i saw was driving me insane tbh i need this so bad sigh

-

[apatheticsunday]

Batfam Eldritch Horror

AKA "inspired by that one post about Danny being a flerken and living with the Batfam" idea! Except he looks pants-shitting, "oh dear god, what is that" terrifying.

I just love slightly feral animal-like Danny in a... shape. It's not immediately identifiable as a cat or dog, maybe he has a few too many legs that kind of look like a tail at one point? And when he skitters up walls like a particularly small dog-sized tarantula, it's terrifying enough to make seasoned criminals squeal.

Let's imagine Danny had some sort of accident with a portal and was Wizard-of-Oz'd into Gotham, a literal hellmouth of a city with so many curses that it'd make John Constantine start to sweat. And this city also has... weird Ecto. (In my brain, there's a connection between the Lazarus Pit and ectoplasm, like pit waters are the sewers of ectoplasm or something.) It's enough for Danny to still exist but he can't seem to stay human-shaped. It's better than being a Blob Ghost, but not by much. His fur-scales-feathers-skin-something look dark as the midnight sky.

And who should stumble on this weird-looking Thing aside from Damian, secret animal-whisperer and passionate Pokemon collector? Damian, who known what a scared feral animal looks like and who can coax it into his arms? It doesn't matter that Danny has maybe five or six limbs. He can make himself slightly smaller at will (not in a Magical-Girl-Transformation way, mind you. When he changes shape, there's the distinct snap of bones breaking and wet, fleshy sounds of his organs, muscles, ligaments, tendons, everything shifting).

Damian has literally been trained by the League of Assassins under the Demon Head. He's likely seen more people's insides than an ER surgeon; he's killed more than enough people in incredibly grotesque and violent ways to be totally unphased by Danny changing shapes. Maybe he'll actually be sort of touched, a bit pleased, that his new Thing pet would change itself so violently so Damian could hold it.

What would Damian name it? He's outwardly violent and aggressive towards others, but pretty passionate and heartfelt once he cares for someone. Alfred the Cat comes to mind. So maybe Damian takes one look at this supposedly scary Thing and thinks, "It looks like Father."

As in, Dark as Night? A shadow inspiring fear amongst criminals? Spoken about in whispers, sometimes laughed off as a joke but still cautiously reverent, just in case?

Danny's new name is Batman.

Of course, this causes some confusion when Damian comes home to Wayne Manor and says, "Batman and I will retire to my room." In front of Bruce, who naturally and kind-of-correctly assumes his son picked up another animal while on patrol. Bruce had a hard time explaining this to a very concerned Dick, who was holding up a wooden stake and a bible (Dick totally wasn't going to kill Bruce if he turned out to be a vampire but it's always good to be prepared!), after Damian apparently made a wayward comment that "Batman refuses to eat anything besides raw meat."

And Danny is having a great time!! Sure, Damian treats him like a pet, but he gets affectionate pats on the head, incredibly expensive steak, and a soft place to sleep. He awkwardly dragged several blankets from the living room to Damian's room to make a bed in the kid's closet. (Alfred watched from behind the couch as this six-legged hairy-ish catlike Thing determinedly waddled with three blankets in its mouth, occasionally tripping on its own legs. He went back to dusting the crown moulding silently. So, that's why Master Damian requested uncooked sirloin steak twelve times in last few days. Hm.)

So, the Batfam accept there is another Batman in the family. Except they haven't actually seen Danny (aside from Alfred and Damian).

Until Dick needs to talk to Damian and goes into the boy's room. But it's empty?? He could've sworn he heard somebody talking or something in here, but maybe not? He turns to leave and then hears it again: a soft kind of thump coming from Damian's armoire. A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as his Older Brother Instincts kick in. Jason used to hide in closets and try to scare Dick when he was little; Damian, despite being a child soldier and trained assassin, was still a little kid at heart, right? The kid's clearly hiding from Dick to scare him or something.

(Damian was in the Batcave, studiously typing "Google, what non-Earth animals reside in Gotham, please?" into the Batcomputer. I like to think that Damian uses the internet like a 85-year old man who thinks a Google employee personally replies to each question.)

So, Dick creeps forward and abruptly slams open the armoire doors!! Only to let out an unholy shriek of terror as Danny, who was taking a nap, frantically skitters out of the closet looking like a Frankenstein cat-dog with bat wings. He crawls under Damian's bed as Dick scrambles into the hallway.

The cat-dog-Thing is out of the bag now. Damian looks utterly deadpan as he explains that Batman is his pet and not to concern themselves with it; Bruce, Tim, Jason, and a white-faced Dick disagreed. They need to see it to make sure the Thing won't harm anybody, especially considering it's fucking living with them!! How do they know it won't try to eat them in their sleep??

"Batman does not eat raw human meat, Todd. Why are you concerned now? It has resided with us for two months now."

"Two months?" Dick nearly faints (again).

"Yes, Batman is very well-behaved, Master Dick." Alfred, who's been feeding Danny for the last two months and has seen all the little quirks the Thing has, offers a consoling half-smile.

Ultimately, the Batfam decide to keep Batman in exchange for scary dog privileges. They'll have to think of another name for Danny considering having two Batmans in Gotham would be pretty confusing (especially if one of them decided they did, in fact, like raw human flesh).

[hoshigray]

Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”

“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“

“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”

Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.

Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!

Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 

Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 

Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”

The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”

“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”

“You son of a—“

“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”

Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”

Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”

The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.

But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.

The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.

He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”

“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 

“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”

“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.

You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.

With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”

He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“

“Alright, round’s over!” 

Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”

“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”

“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.

“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”

You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”

He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 

His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…

You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”

Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”

“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”

“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”

Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.

“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”

“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”

“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  

Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 

Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 

You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”

“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”

“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”

“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 

“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”

“Choke on my dick!”

“You first.”

The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.

As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.

…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (4)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; im sorry. this is so long... lol. 】

【 word count; 11.150 | read on ao3 | hsr reader ver | gi his ver | hsr his ver 】

Alhaitham;

He usually wouldn’t allow pets in the house… not because he dislikes them—Alhaitham simply wouldn’t want to have to clean up the hairs that fall off you after moving between every spot you lie down in. 

  Nevertheless… here he is, with a brush in hand as he tries to get it out of the sheets. You sit next to him apologetically (getting more hairs into the same sheet where you’re currently sitting, of course) and watch as he scoops it into a small bag. Alhaitham sets the bag aside and picks you up easily with one hand, his large palm lifting under your tummy and plopping you back down on his lap as he turns back to brushing your hairs away. 

  Feeling eyes on himself, Alhaitham looks down to see your large, round cat-eyes looking up at him, tail swaying. 

  He put you in his lap—doesn’t that mean it’s petting time?

 Where’s your damn attention?

  Slightly exasperated, Alhaitham tries to multitask and pet you while he's scooping your hair—but more keeps tossing around with every upstroke of your thick fur… why did you have to turn into a hairball? Couldn’t you have been a hairless cat? He’s almost tempted to just put you in the bag. 

  He’s a respectable “pet owner”, but does lack in one aspect that’s quite important to you, at least… perhaps not all cats

  No kisses?? 

  You’d at least like some on your head—he doesn’t have to kiss your nose or anything. Though you shouldn’t be surprised, Alhaitham isn’t very forthcoming with his affections and most of your casual kisses are by your initiation and his response to it.

  So now you have to effectively smush your furry little head into his face to communicate that you want kisses. 

  It takes him a few tries to understand what you need, but thankfully he got it rather easily, smart lad. 

  Kaveh sometimes catnaps (kidnaps) you for… cat naps. He says it’s nicer than hugging his own pillow—and you don’t particularly mind, but Alhaitham does. Once he can’t find you after a general sweep of the house he figures Kaveh took you again and like a seasoned thief, swaps you out with a pillow while the architect is asleep. 

  “Hmph… he should get his own cat,” Alhaitham says to himself after shutting the door quietly, holding you like a baby in his arms, your paws in the air. He looks down, grey hair tilting over his eyes as he smiles only slightly. “What? You are my cat. Perhaps I should call you kitty from now on, even after you’ve changed back.”

  You tried to climb onto the back of the chain in the study when Alhaitham was doing some studies once, but quicker than you could react—even with these new cat reflexes—he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and hoists you off. “You’re scratching the furniture,” he moves you from the back of the chair and plops you down on his lap. “Do refrain from doing that.”

  Hmph. You wanted to bite his hair a bit… it smells nice. But fine. Lap it is, you can settle for that.

  It takes you about two and a half minutes not to be satisfied with that, and lounge over his book instead, hoping he’ll stop and pay attention to you instead. You have a feeling he would do the same if he were in your position. 

  Alhaitham seems annoyed for a few seconds, but he only needs to stare into your big, cute cat-eyes for a few seconds to fold. What can he do? It doesn’t take much for you already to rope him into whatever shenanigans the day brings, and especially not like this.

Arataki Itto;

You just wanted a nice, cool nap. 

  It’s hot as balls in Inazuma, and you found an excellent spot under a slanted roof. You got comfortable and were half asleep already when you’re suddenly dragged off the crate and raised in the air like a divine heir. 

  Flailing in protest, your screaming of; “PUT ME DOWN YOU OAF” isn’t translated very well into frantic meows and hisses. 

  And of course, Itto has no idea what you’re trying to communicate—in fact, he thinks you’re just a bit surprised yet happy to see him. He sets you on his shoulder and you hold on for dear life. He’s broad, but broad muscles are also rather round and his outfit isn’t easy to grab onto—you just thank feline evolution that you have good balance and can hold yourself somewhat steady. 

  He sometimes just parades you around on his head like a strange hat, he doesn’t even seem to mind the death grip you have on his scalp. 

  Best naps, laying out in the grass on a warm summer’s day as the bright rays of the sun shine down on you. It’s comfortably warm, your fur keeps you cool enough that you don’t get lightheaded—despite popular belief, Itto is not a snorer, but he is a hugger. 

  You’re caged against his broad chest and there’s little escape or ways to wake him without scratching, biting or wailing like you’re trapped under a boulder. 

  Itto is a seasoned pet owner, he has multiple beetles that he takes good care of and thus he’s surprisingly adept at handling you. He doesn’t toss you around (except to put you on his shoulders or head) and doesn’t lock you out of the house or forget to feed you. In fact, you’d say he’s a top-notch owner, though you might be slightly biased. 

  The summer days are warm in Inazuma, and sometimes one just needs to do something to keep their mind off of the heat. Even with your coat protecting you from most of it, even you are starting to get dazed by the sharp, overbearing heat of the sun. And Itto is also very good at filling empty time. 

  He takes you out to the beach, though it wasn’t the best idea—he thought it was genius, the ocean is cool enough, there are not many around on the eastern beaches because of the awkward positioning and further distance from the city… but he didn’t take it into account that you absolutely refuse to get in the water, and there’s no shade. So that idea gets abandoned quickly. 

  For some reason he loves to touch your nose; poke it, kiss it, rub it… anything. And every time he does, you have to wet it again—it almost becomes a funny game to him to touch your nose and watch as your tongue darts out to wet it again. 

  Being unable to communicate with you isn’t a problem, he’s a yapper and can talk enough for the two of you. You try to meow along in response to show that you’re listening, but even if there was no brain behind your eyes, he’d still talk your ears off. 

  He creates a makeshift cat-bed for you out of some blankets and cushions, Itto was rather proud of himself for the craft that went into making it as soft as it is…

  It still always ends up with you on his chest or legs at the end of the night. Without exception.

Baizhu;

He really scratches his head over this situation, how did this happen to you? You had gone out to deliver some medicine to those who aren’t well enough or mobile to come fetch it themselves, and had stayed out far longer than usual—Baizhu had started to worry and nearly had gone to look for you… when a cat with your eyes and mannerisms stumbles into the pharmacy meowing up a storm trying to explain itself. 

  Distressed, confused and much smaller than you’re used to being, Baizhu quickly scoops you up into his arms to calm you down. “Do not worry, I recognise you,” he assures—he feels a little silly saying this to a cat, and has a twinge in the back of his mind that he might be wrong. But the way you’re waving your paw is strangely… human, though muddled by the restrictions of your cat-joints. 

  Changsheng however, finds this HILARIOUS. She unwinds a bit from Baizhu’s shoulders and nearly bumps snouts with you as she wonders whether you were even fully aware of yourself, and after some arguing—in the form of loud yowling and meowing—they concluded that yes, your mind is well. 

  Baizhu tries everything he can think of, but he’s never really encountered a situation like this before and he has to use a lot of his attention to theory-crafting and tests. 

  The only thing that made a difference, was that one concoction he crafted made your ears twice larger… but it didn’t change you back. So now you just have unnaturally large ears for a cat. 

  He smiles sheepishly as he examines you to make sure nothing else is affected. “Ah… apologies, my dear. I don’t mean to laugh… but the ears,” he tries his best not to smile too widely, or give a soft laugh. But it’s difficult, you look so disproportionate it’s just adorable.

  Despite your grievance over your proportions, Baizhu can’t help but rub your ears and scratch behind them. He gives you some good treats as an apology. You reluctantly accept. 

  Unfortunately, Baizhu has a job to do and can’t just close the pharmacy off from his assistance to tend to you. He multitasks as much as he can, but there are scheduled appointments to be present for.

  But he has a good idea of how to utilise you, after all, you’re the usual deliverer—customers likely won’t mind if you’re cat-sized.

  Thus, he gets some help from contacts and a day later you have a fancy harness with a delivery box on your back. Baizhu sets some medicine in it and fastens it properly so it won’t slip off and you don’t feel too constrained… and sets you on your way. 

  You were getting bored lounging around in the pharmacy anyway, so you revel in getting to stretch your legs a bit. You make the deliveries in record time, able to get through tiny crevices you weren’t able to before and hope through shortcuts you didn’t even know about.

  As you return to the pharmacy after the final run, Baizhu smiles and kneels down in front of you, removing the harness and scratching where the lines of it had pressed against your fur. The nice feeling of being pet brings a rumbling purr from your chest and your tail sways happily as he gives you some water to drink and attention. 

  “Good work today,” he strokes between your large ears and rubs his thumb on your cheek. “It’s almost time to close up, let’s go upstairs and continue trying to figure out how to turn you back.”

  The soft ambient light of the room and the sound of Baizhu’s brush stroking against the paper of a scroll makes you much more tired than you expected. You lay curled up on the desk against the wall where he sits and writes formulas and theories, Changsheng slithers up next to you and bundles herself on your back—it’s not particularly comfortable, but you’re too lazy to move, and it’s kind of cute. 

  Baizhu hums to himself and looks at you, his gaze lingers for only a short time before returning to the scroll in front of him.

Cyno;

He stares at the cat in Tighnari’s hands, his eyes look up to the man holding you and then back down. “What.”

  The ranger deadpans and plops you into his arms. “I’ve been scouring the library for days while you were in the desert, I don’t know what happened, but it’s just how they are right now.”

  Cyno lifts you up by holding your torso under your front legs, he peers at your face as you dangle like an idiot but have no way to really wriggle away. “Blink twice if it’s really you.”

  You blink twice.

  “Huh,” he just makes a sound of affirmation, then tucks you under his arm. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

  Tighnari stares at him, unimpressed by his lack of reaction to the fact that his partner is currently a small, furry cat. “You're not going to ask where I found them, how I know it’s them or how my progress is going when it comes to turning them back?”

  Cyno is silent for a beat before he speaks again. “I know it’s them, I know their eyes.”

  Somehow, the duty of getting you back to normal remained on Tighnari’s back, and Cyno sets you down on the dining table in your shared home. He folds his arms over his chest and analyses you, it’s a little awkward—you’re not sure why he’s staring so intensely at you. 

  “This is… quite the cat-astrophe—”

  Oh no. 

  You have no way to stop him, and though you usually let him get it out of his system once he feels the need… you could also stop him once it gets out of hand. In this form, you’re effectively defenceless and unable to protest in any meaningful ways. 

  Thankfully, he does stop after you dive under your bed and hide for ten minutes in hopes he won’t drag you back and perform stand-up for you for the rest of the night. 

  Once Cyno is assured this strange transformation isn’t dangerous nor necessarily permanent, he’s rather laid back about it. He finds it quite funny (evidently) and there’s no way around it, you’re cute like this. Not that he didn’t consider you cute before, but it’s especially unavoidable now. 

  There’s no real way to stop him from making jokes or puns about this situation, it’s in his soul—and though you wouldn’t trade his soul for the world, you get moments of temptation when his brain hyperfocuses on one thing to centre his jokes around. 

  They get a bit tired.

  You follow him around everywhere, it’s not like you’ve got better places to be. He thinks it’s rather adorable to see you trotting around at his heels as he walks through the city, though he tells you to remain home when he has work to do—it can turn dangerous sometimes, depending on the day, and he recognises that your body is smaller and more fragile than it used to be. 

  He does always come back right away, he wraps up any follow-ups and paperwork as quickly as he can—if only for the moments of arrival. Of opening the front door and being greeted by you sitting at the entrance of your home, staring up at him with a swaying tail. Waiting excitedly. 

 Dainsleif;

You’ve never seen this expression on his face, in the moments after you touched a strange-looking artefact, there’s a poof—and your body shifts to that of a small cat. It wasn’t painful, nor do you feel as if you were cursed in any way. 

  “... meow?” 

  Dainsleif stares at you, lips parted slightly, he’s positioned with one foot forward as he had been in the process of rushing towards you to hopefully stop you from touching what you shouldn’t… but he was a tad late. 

  He straightens and takes a breath. Okay… from one mystery to another. 

  He approaches you and picks you up—a bit awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know how to hold a cat—and you’re too confused and disoriented as to what just happened to process you being turned back towards the round artefact. Dainsleif takes your front right paw and makes you touch the artefact again.

  Nothing. No glow, no poofing. 

  There goes his only idea. 

  The following days were confusing and mildly frustrating. It’s been a while since Dainsleif traveled alone, and though he isn’t technically alone—you’re still there, it doesn’t feel the same. He’s quite struck with the confrontation that he’s become very accustomed to your presence and how much he’s come to rely on it. 

  He’s a bit quiet and distant from you for a few days, while it makes you sad—if anything, you should be the one who needs comforting—you do try to slowly approach, you know that he can run the danger of isolation. 

  After starting a flame one evening in the alcove of a cave beneath a bright starry sky, Dainsleif sits down to rest for the night. You walk over with slow steps, careful and quiet, before sitting down next to him. 

  Far enough that you’re not touching, not even your tail… but close enough to be present. 

  His eyes slide towards you, and his head follows. “... what is it?”

  “Meow.”

  His eyelids squint, unsure what to make of your reply. Your answers always make sense to him… but what can he decipher from your feline face? The only familiar part of you is your eyes, shining under the light from the flames. “I see.”

  You doubt he deciphered any meaning from your meows, but he’s engaging with you now. Progress. 

  Trying your luck, you move closer. He stays as he is, watching you closely.

  You move closer yet, your tail touches his coat. 

  Dainsleif sighs. 

  You stop. 

  He can’t particularly feel your presence, not yours—but there is a presence next to him. It is yours, despite the fact he can’t sense it… and perhaps one day, were he to outlive you as if likely, he will have to find your presence in something you’re not. 

  And though you are this weird-looking cat, somewhere between a sentient human being and a feline animal, you’re still you. 

  The same, those same eyes, the very same gaze and mind. 

  He reaches out and sets his palm onto your furry head. Dainsleif pets your head slowly, and you nuzzle into his hand. You sit in silence before the swaying flames.

Diluc;

He can’t help but think that you might’ve done this on purpose. 

  Diluc has been very busy the last weeks he’s been coming back home to the winery late, leaving early—getting up in the middle of the night and waking you up when he goes out for his Darknight hero duties—and though you rescheduled it for next week, missed a dinner in the city that had been booked in advance. 

  He does feel bad, Diluc wants to spend all the time he can with you, all his free time and more—but with the winter months drifting by, business in the winery booms as people stock up on wine for the holidays. Businesses buy in bulk for holiday menu changes, and such. 

  And now, after hurrying back home when he was contacted that “something had happened” to you… he’s standing in front of a cat. 

  He thought you might’ve been hurt, or sick—he had run so fast his hair was loosening from his usual tail. 

  And while you��re not hurt or sick, you are… different. Something definitely happened. 

  He sits down and you climb onto his lap, sitting down and pawing at his chest, small meows leaving your small mouth. Diluc strokes your back and ruffles your fur with both hands. “How did this happen?” he knows you can’t answer him, but he can’t help but ask anyway. 

  You rise up on your hind legs, front paws on his chest as you lick and wet his cheeks. Diluc’s eyes close and his face scrunches up. “H-hey, stop that,” he puts his hands around your torso and holds you away from his face, your little tongue bleping down out of your mouth. 

  A smile tugs on his lips at the cute expression. 

  He still has to attend to his job, but while he usually handles most things himself, Diluc does accept help from his staff now that you’re… like this. So now he has more time for you, which isn’t exactly how he intended to spend that free time—searching for ways to turn you back, and having you loafing on his lap and being unable to stand up and fetch his coffee. 

  He’s not going to move while you’re so comfortable… he wouldn’t do that even if you weren’t a cat. 

  Not the biggest fan of the hair you leave around you, he needs to wipe his clothes thoroughly after you’ve so much as looked in his direction.

  You get so much attention around the winery it’s not even funny, every employee pets you, gives you treats and treat you like you’re more of a royal cat than just a normal person turned into one. 

  Diluc came home one evening to see you loafing on the sofa, a shiny bow tied around your neck and a bowl of treats next to you… in reach for whenever you wanted it. 

  He had a conversation with the staff about making sure you don’t eat so much that your stomach will hurt… and that maybe not make you get too comfortable like this, he wants to turn you back to normal after all. 

Kaedehara Kazhua; 

He thinks it’s adorable, Kazuha is a rather laid-back person overall, and he’s certain you’ll be okay—so why not have fun while you’re like this? 

  It started all fun and games when on land, Inazuma is filled to the brim with foods that cats would love, every shop has some form of fish or vegetables that Kazuha can share with you…

  But as soon as you go out on the open ocean, it’s over. 

  Kazuha has never seen you so violently unhappy on the ship, every rock of it makes you yowl and dig your claws into whatever you’re standing on, be it a crate, table, bed or Kazuha’s clothes (you ruined two pants, but he doesn’t particularly mind). 

  You have an irrational (or very rational) fear that you might be tossed off the ship and into the ocean at the slightest dip of the deck. Kazuha does his best to calm you and comfort you, he even offers to make a harness and leash for you so that he can yoink you back if you happen to fall overboard. 

  You don’t find his idea as funny as Beidou does.

  Thankfully, you don’t get tossed overboard you don’t spontaneously die or have any other terrible event happen to you—and you’re so thankful to touch land that you hop off the side of the ship and to the harbour the ship docked by before it can even properly be tied down by the dockworkers. 

  Kazuha leans over the railing of the ship and calls your name, a bit worried—he hopes you don’t get lost before he can catch up to you. 

  It takes a while for the ship to dock and open up for people to leave, Kazuha convinces another person on the ship to take his duties for a while as he rushes out to find you. He’s not worried you might get yourself in trouble��you’re rather good at keeping out of it, but he doesn’t want you to get lost or have to spend all day looking for you.

  Even though that’s kind of what he’s starting to do right now…

  Kazuha shoulders past the crowd in the busy markets of Port Ormos, it’s early noon and it’s starting to fill up. The Crux has stocked up here often before and thus the both of you are quite familiar with it, but the winding streets and large crowds filling the markets can make it disorienting for even seasoned visitors. 

  After looking around for longer than he cared for, Kazuha finally spots your tail disappearing behind a corner.

  Kazuha picks up his pace and somehow manages to catch up to you, perhaps the soft breeze is on his side, as he swoops up next to you and scoops you up into his arms.

  He smiles, ducking out of the crowds and into a small alley where some crates are stored for the market stalls. “No need to run away, you’re safe on land now,” he holds you like a baby, your paws in the air as his arm holds your back steadily. “Though you are also very safe on the ship, I won’t let you fall overboard.”

  You meow gently, Kazuha isn’t sure if you’re thanking him or expressing concerns… but the way you look up at him in this position is pretty cute. “Let’s find some good food, hm?”

Kaeya;

Funniest shit he’s seen all year. 

  Kaeya tries not to look like he’s very happy this happened—so long as he knows it’s not dangerous or permanent—or that watching you lick yourself to clean your fur isn’t very amusing. 

  He brings you everywhere, lets you follow him around and even holds you and lets passersby pet you…

  Kaeya is just straight-up treating you like a real cat.

  At this realisation, that he was acting like you were a pet, and not his very real (though cat-like for now) partner and previous human… you got angry! you wriggled in his grasp, surprising him and causing Kaeya to almost drop you—he righted his hold and blinked at you with a confused expression. “What is it? Did I hold you wrong?”

  A series of angry meows and swats of your paw later, Kaeya was none the wiser. 

  He tried to bait you to “forgive” him with some nicely cut fish… and it kind of worked, that was some good fish. 

  Kaeya sits by the table you’re on as you gobble down the fish he bought you, he leans on his fist with a smile and watches as you lick your muzzle after getting fishy-oil on it and shake yourself when you accidentally dip your whiskers into the water next to the plate. 

  The sun almost makes it seem like your fur shines and sparkles under it and as you sit down, belly full and satisfied, Kaeya reaches out and scratches behind your ears. “Did you take behavioural classes before this? To behave like a real cat? You’re really nailing it.”

  You make a huffed sound, but reach your head further into his hand. 

  He tries to get you to play with toys, he buys a stick with a bundle of feathers on the end in hopes that you’ll chase it when he dangles it in front of you… but when he sat down with you on the floor of your shared home and dangled it in front of you…

  You stared at him as if he had just grown three additional heads.

  Kaeya pouts, he wriggles it a bit—and though you follow it around with your head, you still sit where you are and don’t move.

  Not until he lowered the toy and the feathered end touched the floor.

  You pounced onto it.

  Kaeya pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You look up like you got caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

  And then he just laughs, he wriggles the toy again and you swat at it in frustration for making you leap at it like that, you’re not a real cat!!

Kamisato Ayato;

He doesn’t leave you alone. 

  You’re trotting along the engawa of the estate on your way to find a nice spot to nap—and suddenly, you’re swooped up into his arms. Ayato smiles and strokes your head. “There you are, my dear. I was searching for you,” he hums and turns around to walk into the estate. 

  Ayato spends about half the day—and sometimes more—in his study tending to paperwork of many kinds. Unusually, you would lend a hand and help with the neverending piles on his desk, but you’re little help like this… still, he demands that you “lend your paw” and sit on his lap the entire time. 

  It was nice at first, he’s got a nice lap to lay or loaf on, and he would scratch you in spots you couldn’t reach yourself, or just stroke your back… but after five hours, you really want to stretch your legs.      So, you squeeze out from under his arm and stretch next to him, letting out a big yawn—only to find a finger poking your tongue?!

  The bastard actually stuck his finger in your mouth when you yawned. Ayato smiled, all smug and somehow innocent at the same time. You meowed in disapproval, but it went straight over his head, as if he had any idea as to what you had just said to him, insult or not. 

  He also keeps pinching your toe beans, sometimes making your claws stretch out and then back in—even in the middle of the night, he rubbed your paws and stuck his finger between the beans. What is wrong with this guy. 

  Other than messing with you and pulling your leg, he does provide the best food and treats—as usual, you have the privilege of accessing the clan kitchens and being made food by them on a daily basis and it never fails to make you nearly cry with how good it is.       And even now, as you sit next to his desk and his dinner is brought to him (even though you’ve tried to ask the staff to not bring it to him, and that he has to eat outside of his study or else his ass will get stuck to the floor) you are given your own tray of dishes as well. 

  Gobbling down the freshly made meals tailored to you even in this form, Ayato is happy that you seem to have a good appetite. He had been concerned that this… situation might stress you out and you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep. 

  Despite his endless workload, Ayato somehow finds the time to pamper and take care of you between his busy schedule. He sits down with you in the gardens and brushes your fur, rubs your cheeks and kisses your nose (and you need to wet it again every time). As if you were a little fur baby for him to take care of. 

  He still talks to you as if you were as you always are, though Ayaka uses a baby-voice like one would use with a cat (she tries not to, but fails), Ayato speaks to you normally. He plucks the seeds out of a small cube of watermelon before feeding it to you as he recounts his day, humming in affirmation as you meow back about your own… he doesn’t understand it, but you need to get it out as well. 

  Your snout is practically pink by the end of the watermelon bowl, and Ayato gives you that smile… oh no. 

  “It’s been a few days now, and you ran around the garden yesterday… and now you’re covered in melon juice. Why don’t I ask Thoma to warm a bath to wash your fur?” he asks innocently, and watches in amusement as you shoot out of his lap and flee into the estate. Not a chance. 

Kaveh;

Kaveh gapes at you. You stare up at him. He blinks. You blink.

  “H-hah???!” he scoops you up—accidentally upside down, but you just flop in his arms, still blinking at him from your angle, you know he won’t drop you. Kaveh rights you and brings you nearly nose-to-nose as he stares into your eyes. “How did this happen? You were just—I was… this…”

  He holds you a few centimetres away so neither of you go cross-eyed. “... Do you understand me?”

  You nod and raise your paw, pressing it onto his cheek.

  Kaveh doesn’t move his face away and lets your paw just press against his skin. “Okay, you’re… uh, aware… how do I fix this?”

  “Meow.”

  “...” right. Maybe this was a stupid question. 

  Kaveh goes a bit overboard, he researches the best ways to take care of a cat, the best foods, beds, toys—everything. And suddenly, he comes home after a short day at work (he has more important things to tend to!) with… so much stuff. 

  You stare, dumbfounded, as Kaveh carves out a cat-space in his and Alhaitham’s house… did he get Alhaitham’s permission to do this? You somehow doubt it. 

  After everything is set up, he stands and sets his hands on his hips with a wide smile. “What do you think?” Kaveh asks, looking down at you sitting by his feet with a swaying tail. “I think it fits very well, the colours compliment our living room—and I tried to arrange it in a way that mostly hugs the wall and doesn’t intercept with the flow of the room—”

  He’s rambling again. You don’t mind when he gets going and his interior design skills ARE good, despite it not being his expertise, it goes hand in hand with architecture. 

  But… did he consult the other half of this house before doing this? 

  You found out quickly, you had just settled in the high cat-bed that hung on the wall, giving you a good view over the living room as well as a height advantage to him (now you get why cats enjoy the high ground)... when the front door opens and a very familiar Scribe enters. 

  Alhaitham wasn’t even aware that you had turned into a cat, to him… he just came home to see a random cat in the living room—and that it was arranged completely differently to give you space. 

  Thankfully Alhaitham has a good few brain cells to rub together between his fingers, and isn’t quick to rise, so he looked to Kaveh and tilted his head towards the kitchen… where they had a lengthy discussion, where Kaveh explained everything to him and asked him if it was okay…

  Which is a tad late when he’s already rearranged the entire living room and gotten you comfortable there… but fine. So long as he takes it all down and makes everything as it should be once you’re back to normal. When asked, Alhaitham said he was too busy to help turn you back and told him to consult the library. 

  Kaveh is a hugger in his sleep, and you’re a victim (you love his hugs). He practically wraps himself around you and holds you to himself the entire night—and don’t you dare try to leave, he’ll wake up and whine about it. He does sometimes squeeze a bit too much—you’re not as durable as you usually are, you’re just a little kitty…

  He gets cuteness aggression when you do anything mildly affectionate. Rub against his legs while he’s at his desk, loaf on his lap and slow blink up at him, lick his hand when he strokes your head… Kaveh tries his best not to squeeze you or shake you like a keychain, he bit into his own hand once to refrain from biting your full cheek of food once. 

  He drew a full sketchbook of you over the span of two weeks, he can’t help it—you’re too adorable and he wants to keep the image of you forever. 

Neuvillette;

Not chill about this, Neuvillette was immediately concerned with how to turn you back and if this curse-spell could have any permanent effects on you. He doesn’t really have many tomes to consult, nor are there many people he could ask for advice as to… how to fix this. 

  After some time, and you rubbing your furry cheek on his arm and leg to try and calm down his nerves, Neuvillette does slow down. He’s usually very calm in the face of the unknown or danger—but he’s never had to deal with direct danger (or not, he hasn’t figured out if it’s dangerous or not yet) when it comes to you. 

  Thankfully, you’re still there with him, just… a bit smaller, and furrier… and you smell a bit weird—still like you, but also with a tinge of something else. Perhaps that part of your scent has always been your humanity. 

  And now you’re a cat. 

  He’s never owned a pet before—and you’re hardly a typical pet, and thus consults the only person he can think of. Furina (though he’s unsure she’s ever owned a pet either?).

  And she loves you, she already likes you well enough—but like this? You’re getting picked up, petted, smooched, pampered and loved. Neuvillette just stands a bit awkwardly as Furina gets it out of her system and you get dangerously close to being fed up with her hugging and smooching… you’re not an actual cat! You just look like one!!

  After being freed from her clutches, Neuvillette holds you with more dignity for a while until you feel safe enough to walk around the ex-Archon’s home (and won’t get swooped up again). When the initial chaos is over, he sits down with Furina and they put their heads together to try and find a solution to this. They write down how it happened, what exactly changed—your mind is the same, your scent as well as your eyes. Though your fur has turned a shimmering white regardless of your head and body hair colour before. 

  You look like a big snowball. 

  There’s no real conclusion to the first session of brainstorming, but they manage to narrow down that though neither was there to see what exactly happened, it was likely a spell, or perhaps an artefact you touched (where would that even happen inside Fontaine?) or something along those lines. 

  Thus, Neuvillette takes you back home for the night. He’s a bit stiff around you, he doesn’t interact much with animals and though he won’t avoid them if a cat approaches him on the street (he’d mostly greet and nod at them) he hasn’t exactly had to care for one before. 

  He has to rely on asking you yes or no questions that you can nod or shake your head to, and makes it through the first few days like that. And while you’re… cute? (He’s not entirely sure how to describe you) Nauvillette does much more prefer you in your normal state, where he can communicate with you, hold your hand and touch your cheek without getting sniffed at by a wet nose.

  Not that Neuvillette doesn’t enjoy petting your fur and scratching under your chin, it’s just not the same. 

  It is very amusing to watch your head move left and right as you sit on the kitchen counter and watch Neuvillette prepare dinner—mostly for himself as you don’t eat typical foods now. He offers a small piece of a carrot and watches as you crunch on it for a good thirty seconds until it’s mushed enough to swallow. 

Tartaglia;

Another situation of; the funniest shit he’s ever seen. 

  He brings you everywhere—Childe has no concept of ‘pet-free zone’ because you’re not his pet? You’re his partner? His beloved? Why is he being shooed out, you’re on a leash and everything (half chewed apart because you refuse to wear it with dignity and do all in your power to get free, how dare he put you on a LEASH).

 Of course, initially, he was confused and rather concerned. He thought you might have been attacked, or targeted and thus had been made into this… cat, maliciously. 

  But you honestly seem pretty undisturbed, so he is as well. Calm cat, calm Childe. 

  He dresses you up before taking you outside—not necessarily for fun, but rather because it’s insanely cold in Snezhnaya in these months, and he doesn’t want you to be a block of ice after a few minutes. So he goes and buys some puffy coats, socks and a warm blanket for your return. You feel like you look like an idiot (you already look like a cat…) in all these clothes, but his cooing and smooching make it less annoying—mostly because now your annoyances are focused on him. 

  His siblings don’t really understand that it’s you, not at the younger range—and Childe just tells them that you’re a cat he and you decided to take care of for a while and that you’re busy elsewhere. Tonia doesn’t seem as convinced when Childe keeps smooching your nose and rubbing his cheek against yours. 

  Embarrassing enough as it is, Childe starts to call you nicknames now—it isn’t entirely unusual, but they’ve always been normal… now he’s calling you “Combat kitten” and “Fuzzy comrade”... worst of all was “General toebeans”

  You wish you could tell him to stop, but all you have are meows and hisses. 

  Snezhnayan homes are made to withstand cold and harsh winds, and thus have excellent central heating systems… also known as a fireplace—and a furnace elsewhere. And curling up on some soft blankets or a plush chair by the furnace as snow gathers on the windowsill and winds brush against the exterior of the house… there are few places more comfortable to take a nap.

  Unfortunately, Childe’s humming and singing from the kitchen disturbs your perfect peace, but you’re just glad he’s having fun. You’ll live. 

  And he brings you some treats, places a small kiss on top of your furry head and sits down in the other chair, dragging the one you’re on to be next to his so that he can stroke your back and belly when you eventually flop on your back for more attention. 

  He’s pulled every string and contact in the Fatui to try and figure how to turn you back (except a select few who will either be last measures or just straight avoidances despite advice they might give) but hasn’t had much luck so far. Thankfully you've only been stuck like this for a week or so, and thus it hasn’t been so long to be concerning. 

  Perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting it out, and Childe is surprisingly patient. 

Thoma;

The Housekeeper stands in surprise as a cat is suddenly plopped into his arms. “Ah… is this… a new house pet…?” the Kamisato estate doesn’t exactly have pets, there are some cats that come around and nap in the gardens every now and then and leave after a while, but this cat is staring at him as if they’ve known him their entire life.

  Ayato only hums as he’s already turned to another task, rushing from one thing to another as the busy days of summer come along. He doesn’t have much time to explain—nor is there much to explain. He had borrowed you for a few minutes to help him with something, he turns around for a moment, and the next you’re a cat.

  Thoma stares at him, silent for a time. He’s not entirely sure if Ayato is messing with him or not—it’s entirely possible, and par for the course for his lord—but as Ayato shakes his head and waves his hand in dismissal, he speaks again. “I already have someone looking into it, take care of them in the meantime. I’ll have someone fetch you if there is news.”

  You’re actually a cat. 

  After leaving Ayato’s study and sitting down outside where the afternoon sun has begun sinking towards the oceans beyond the cliff the estate sits on, Thoma stares at you as if he’s not entirely sure what to do with you. 

  Despite the initial confusion (and the followed concern, but it’s quickly dampened somewhat, Ayato has someone on the case and he trusts him to find a solution) Thoma is a very responsible person. He makes sure you’re not uncomfortable at all despite some estate staff vehemently refusing to let you in specific places… such as the kitchen. Fair enough. But there are also certain rooms and areas that have to be kept very clean and they don’t want cat hairs to get all over the place. 

  Thoma brings you around, he’s got many places to be, and he’s sure you’d like to stretch your legs anyway—it’s always nice to leave the estate for a few hours and run some errands. He had to head down to a nearby village and see whether trade agreements were coming along smoothly, they produce a lot of high quality rice and are often stuck in trade deals with large towns and clans for their rice—and for a well enough reason. Recently, Ayato had struck a deal with them and everything was signed and well along its way, Thoma just had to go and make sure they had everything they needed for transport. 

  It was a good walk, but you kept up easily… somehow having four legs rather than two makes you less tired after walking for some hours…? Or perhaps it’s because your body is so light now, you don’t know much about cat anatomy. 

  The meeting went well and you didn’t linger for long.

  Unfortunately, a heavy downpour began to fall on the two of you as you headed back. Thoma quickly scooped you up and tucked you into his jacket—it’s not much of a jacket, it barely reaches below his ribs, but it was just big enough for him to cover you (and lean a bit to cover you better) and pick up his pace to run back to the Kamisato estate. 

  After making it back inside, the rain was as if a waterfall had opened in the heavens to drop down on the roof. Thoma’s hair is wet and sticks to his cheeks as he sets you down. “Ah, that was close,” he laughs softly. “Are you dry?”

  You shake yourself after being pressed against his chest for so long and sniff around your fur, then give him a nod. 

  “Hah, that’s good, I’ve heard cats don’t like water much,” he smiles. “I need a change of clothes, come with me?”

  You let out a happy meow and follow him along further inside. 

Venti;

Cooes at you and talks to you with a baby-voice, he puts both thumbs on either side of your cheeks and rubs your face like it’s dough… even though it makes his nose red and his eyes puffy—despite the cursed allergy that torments his everyday life (there’s so many cats in Mondstadt) he doesn’t let it stop him from being around you. Pestering some healers for a medicine that could help, he feels… less bad, but it doesn’t really dampen the itch in his eyes and throat well enough.

  He doesn’t take this situation seriously at all, at least not nearly as much as you do—you should probably trust his reactions and instincts, as he’s far more knowledgeable than you (even though he doesn’t act like it at all) and if you were in any danger, he wouldn’t be smooching your cheeks and nuzzling you like HE’S the cat. 

  Thus, you try to calm down, to focus on just getting through the days and not feel embarrassed when you have to clean yourself or relieve yourself as a cat. 

  But Venti also doesn’t make it easy for you, he builds a “throne” for you out of books and pillows for you to have the high ground (he doesn’t want to put holes in the wall for a hanging bed) and gives you “Mondstadt’s finest tuna” that tasted very much like a normal piece of tuna, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

  Sometimes you really wonder if he was the one who cursed you just so he could mess with you and cuddle you without you being able to fend him off. Not that you would be particularly opposed to cuddles in the first place? He could just ask?? Besides, why would he choose the form of a cat out of every other pet considering his consistent sneezing up a storm around them.

It doesn’t add up, you discard your theory.

  You can’t sleep in the same bed anymore, both because Venti moves a lot in his sleep and being a cat does not make it safe, he could crush you! (as if he’s heavy enough to do that) and because he might well and truly pass away if he had to be so close to your furry-ass for such a pronged amount of time… and thus, Venti makes a nice bed for you out of blankets and pillows next to your usual one where you can rest.

  There was a time where these new cat instincts took a bit too much over, and when you were chasing a crystalfly on a walk along the roads outside the city, you had hopped onto a big rock—and after missing your chance to catch the crystalfly, you hopped onto Venti and tried to eat his braids. 

  He yelped in surprise, but laughed once he realised what you were doing. “My hair isn’t for eating, it’s no good for your digestion either!”

  You felt embarrassed about this little incident, and he kept making fun of you for it—though not necessarily maliciously, Venti just thought it was funny that you didn’t go for his hat, but his hair instead.

  Climbing to the top of the Mondstadt cathedral or the statue of himself isn’t your favourite pastime, but it’s surprisingly much easier in this form—and thus when Venti suggests you go to the top to play some songs, you had been hesitant at first.

  Making it to the top, Venti sits down comfortably as if he’s done it a thousand times (you sometimes suspect he climbs it to make you feel better, because you know he can just float up with a gust of wind) and pats his lap for you to sit down. 

  You plop yourself onto his thighs and settle comfortably as the sun sinks below the horizon, Venti takes out his usual lyre and tests a few tunes to ensure it’s properly set. “Let me play you something nice, it’ll help you sleep.”

  And it is nice, your ears flick as his fingers dance along the harp’s strings, he hums along with it but doesn’t sing full words—the vibration of the song calms you and you rest your head on your paws. 

Wanderer;

“You are the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  He’s being dramatic, you’re not that ugly… but…

  Why did you have to turn into a hairless cat? 

  You feel strange, and perhaps you would also feel the same way if you had a lot of hair, but every single breeze makes you feel you are especially naked—because you are!

  Wanderer isn’t exactly happy to have to take care of you—he will do it, of course, but he will also complain about it. You were perfectly independent and functional as a person before you just had to go and sniff some plant in the wild that poofed you into a cat before his very eyes. 

  He refuses to seek help to find out how to turn you back, not because he doesn’t want anyone to know that you’re a cat, but rather because he’s certain he can handle it himself. 

  You whack at his arm with your paw, meowing up a storm after a few hours of not being fed the day after—he had completely forgotten that he needs to prepare something digestible for you… he’s never had to take care of a creature like you before—what can you even eat?? He clicks his tongue. “Don’t swat at me like that. You’re human, act like it…”

  You’re not human right now!! Give me food!!

  Eventually, he does begin to take proper care of you, even though he keeps telling you that you look like a peeled potato… you don’t have many ways of retaliation except whacking him with your paw or hissing when he lightly pinches a big patch of your skin. 

  Surprisingly, during one strangely cold night when you were curled on the bed and trying to stay warm—even the slightest drop in temperature was very cold to your hairless body… you feel something soft drape over you.     Half-asleep and cold, you squint up and scrunch your nose as your whiskers squish against the blanket, you see Wanderer turn back around after setting it over you. Hah… he’s soft under that hard shell as always, even if he tries to act aloof. 

  After several days of no luck in trying to turn you back, Wanderer does begin to cave to asking for some… advice. Not help. Advice.

  With you in his arms, head reaching towards the market stalls of Sumeru city (literally everything smells good and extremely edible) as he passes by, Wanderer takes you to meet with Nahida who is rather enthusiastic about this mystery. She pets you and smiles, humming as he recounts what happened and describes the particular flower you smelled. 

  “Hm, I have an idea, but it’ll take a while to execute… do you think it’ll be okay for them to remain like this for a few more days?” the archon taps her chin in thought, mind swirling with ideas and possible solutions. 

  Wanderer huffs, not exactly a scoff, and clapped his hand onto your head. “It’s fine.”

  But as soon as you returned back home and he set you down on the living room table, Wanderer points at you. “You better turn back to normal soon…” he folds his arms over his chest, his expression isn’t as tight as it was before. “I don’t want to deal with this forever. Just get back soon.”

  You inch closer to him on the table, reaching your paw out to tug his sleeve closer—only to rub your head into his palm. He clicks his tongue. “Whatever… don’t think this counts as an apology. You’ll have to make up for it properly when you’re you again.”

Wriothesley;

You are, quite possibly, the smallest cat he has ever seen. 

  He holds you in the palm of his hand, it’s adorable. Wriothesley cracks a grin and lifts you to eye-level. “Hm, you’re not nearly as scary like this, no one in this prison will listen to you like this.”

  You want to whack him on his nose, but politely refrain—if only because you don’t want to get dropped. You meow at him, ferocious and upset at this situation, you have a job to tend to! Things to do!

  But Wriothesley has other ideas, he sets you down on his desk and sits down. “Now, how did this happen? I assume this wasn’t intentional?” is he teasing you? Most likely. He knows you can’t just answer his questions, and you assumed he would be slightly more concerned when a guard brought you to his office…

  But no, he instantly recognised you and dismissed the guard. Had it been the eyes? The fur? Is he somehow responsible for this??

  All unanswered questions, and though he sends out word to some people he thinks might be able to help decipher this mystery, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get you back to normal. He sets you in the pocket of his vest (it’s embarrassing that you actually fit) and goes on with his days as normal. 

  Siegwinne was initially very concerned, she seemed much more sensible in her worries that leaving you in this form for too long might be dangerous and that the Fortress isn’t exactly a good place for pets. There are a lot of crevices to get stuck in and things to get hurt on.

  Though you still retain your mind, so you should be alright in that sense… so long as you don’t get overly curious. 

  He is undeniably very warm, and cuddling up to him at night is very comfortable—especially now that you can just lay on his chest and snooze there and not worry about being dragged back into his embrace if you move too much in your sleep. You barely move at all in this form.

  Come morning, Wriothesley was already awake by the time you open your eyes, he strokes your fur and scratches behind your ears. Having a day pass by does make the initially amusing situation a bit more… real. He doesn’t want you to be struck with a permanent curse, or some kind of spell that might harm you in the long run. 

  “Don’t you worry,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I’ll make sure you’re back to normal soon, just stick close by.”

  And you do, mostly because you couldn’t have been blessed (cursed?) with a normal-sized cat body, but possibly the smallest there could be. You can’t even jump up onto his desk by yourself and have to yowl at him to let you up. 

  He does so happily, surprisingly eager to carry you around and help you with the smallest things. 

  Wriothesley doesn’t even change in mood from amusement when you chase the pen in his hands as it glides across paperwork he signs, you leap onto his arm and try to whack at the pet in either some strange instinctual haze, or an attempt to play—and though you whacking the pen makes it seem like he has the handwriting of a toddler, it’s just rather funny.

  The Fortress doesn’t exactly have a large variety of foods, not in the sense that it can be adjusted for the diet of a cat that isn’t accounted for during inventory fills, and thus Wriothesley sends for specific ingredients that won’t be heavy on your tiny little stomach. 

  And he also… got some cat-related things delivered, like a bed, some string toys and treats. You never used the bed, either preferring his lap to nap on, or just slept in the strangest places he never even imagined you could reach with those stubby legs. 

  But he’s a very responsible caretaker, at least, that’s what he claims as he holds you down to brush your teeth and you wriggle and flail like an eel. 

Xiao; 

Very worried, he didn’t even realise the cat sitting in the clearing of the forest was you at first and searched for you for several minutes before seeming to realise that you had just… shrunk. Into a cat. 

  He stares at you for a good minute, lips parted and eyes large… before your name tentatively leaves his mouth.

  You meow in affirmation, standing and shaking yourself as you try to understand the situation yourself—still a bit disoriented. 

  Xiao approaches you quickly and kneels down in front of you, he lifts you up to your hind legs, puts you down and inspects your ears, your tail and under your paws. You meow in curiosity as to what he is doing, and surprisingly he seems to understand your question. 

  “There might be traces of whatever did this on your body, it will make it easier to track or reverse,” he says and even checks inside your mouth, which you weren’t really happy with. 

  Unfortunately, he doesn’t find any answers, and kneels there rather awkwardly with you in front of him… what now? This situation has stumped him a bit—he’s supposed to be able to keep you safe from all manners of danger and curses like this (perhaps not exactly like this, he never prepared for this exact scenario) and now that he’s not got many leads to fix it, his mind is a bit aimless in where to search for information. 

  He has no idea how to care for you, and while he has vague ideas of the behaviours of animals…they mostly stem from wild animals and their reactions to foreign presences in their territories, or similar scenarios. 

  What does a meow mean? Is there something wrong? What does it mean when you paw at the door? Do you want to go outside? But it’s two in the morning?

  He severely overestimates the portions of food you eat, giving you a full plate of something the Wangshu Inn kitchens prepared on his request (they figured out what happened and have been trying to help him, but Xiao is still trying to be subtle and secretive about the situation) and being confused when you only ate a fourth of it. 

  Are you sick? Was it the wrong kind of food?

  He brings you along with him on his hunts, while he could leave you at the inn… how can he be sure that you won’t get into trouble? The window is high above the ground, what if you tumble out of it? What if you try to climb up on the dresser in the room and get stuck? Or fall down and hurt yourself?

  No, you’re safest with him, even if he has to wield his spear with one hand and hold you with the other. 

  He’s surprisingly good at it too. 

  Desperate after a week of unsuccessful herbs and potions he tried to make, Xiao caves and contacts Liyue Harbour and the adepti that reside there for help.

  It seems his message had gotten into Cloud Retainer’s hands, and instead of any actually helpful advice on how to turn you back… she had sent an entire booklet of cat behaviours, diets and how to take care of them.

  Helpful, sure… but not exactly what he was asking for. 

  One evening as he was out on the usual hunts, he noticed that you were walking slowly by his side, yawning and rather cold so high in the mountains. He didn’t even have to think about what might be wrong or what to do, as he had already scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the inn, where he sat down with you on the bed. 

  “You should tell me when you’re tired…” he grumbles and tugs one of the covers on the bed to his lap where he wraps it around you as if bundling a baby up. Xiao reaches up and scratches behind your ears as your eyes blink closed in the comfort of being back in the warm room.

  He had only been petting you for s few seconds when he felt you… tremble? There was a strange rumbling sound coming from you, are you uncomfortable? He doesn’t quite understand it… but you continue to rumble as he scratches your head and ears. 

  Ah, was this the ‘purring’ he read about in one of the booklets Ganyu sent him? How… cute.

Zhongli;

“Ah…” Zhongli stares at you, this isn’t quite what he had imagined would happen… he had been crafting a potion in hopes it would help Ganyu sleep better, she had been overworking herself (again) more than usual and was so tired that she couldn’t sleep. It can happen. 

  The combination of herbs and materials required for the potion he had put together wasn’t very suitable for humans, and of course he made sure to let you know so that you wouldn’t drink it… but he hadn’t expected that only being touched by a single drop onto the back of your hand would lead to a poof, and your size being reduced and body turned to that of a cat. 

  You had only wanted to help by handing him ingredients so that he didn’t have to turn around so often… you didn’t anticipate this either!

  He makes sure the potion won’t burn and sets a lid on the pot before turning towards you. “I… had not foreseen that this could have been a danger to you, my apologies,” he kneels down on one knee and holds his hand out for you to sniff. You do so, snout twitching towards his finger before you bump your head into his palm. 

  “Have you retained some sense of consciousness?” he wonders, gloved hand moving to stroke over your small head, your ears flattening under his palm. “I’m sure I can find a way to reverse this.”

  He was sure, at least. But after some research and testing… he wasn’t making any progress—at least, he wasn’t making progress in finding ways to turn you to your normal self without some potential risks or aftereffects. 

  What he did find, was that the herb that you had been touching, and the potion he had halfway crafted was similar to another concoction that he had made before—and the effects of that had only been temporary. 

  It seems you will simply have to wait until the effect wears off. 

  Zhongli had instinctively prepared a delightful meal in the way he knows you would enjoy while you sit in the kitchen counter and watch with interest, your tail swaying happily as you watch him chop some vegetables and set them into the pot… but halfway through the process as he’s setting spices and herbs into the pot, Zhongli realises that more than half of the ingredients in the pot are unsuitable for cats to eat. 

  He finishes the meal and sets it aside, before fetching some fish you had purchased just yesterday that he was going to use for lunch tomorrow and cut it into nicely bite-sized pieces. You tilt your head slightly as you watch—the meal he had just been putting together doesn’t have any fish in it?? What’s it for?

  And honestly, when he plated your food (in a very professional and presentable way) and set it down on the dining table, then set his own on the other side for himself… you felt a bit offended. Raw fish, some rice and a hard boiled egg… next to his delicious smelling beef stew… 

  If you could’ve cried, you would have. And Zhongli felt pretty bad for the rest of the day, he tried to offer you some “safe” treats or make it up to you with some pets and scritches, but you still sulked.

  You had looked forward to this dinner all day…

  Thankfully you got over it rather quickly and Zhongli is glad that he didn’t offend you too badly… it seems having been turned into a cat had made you quite dramatic as well, he doesn’t recall you ever having sulked like this over a meal before.

  Knowing that it was simply a waiting game, Zhongli isn’t very concerned about your state, but he does ensure that you’re comfortable and not afraid—he understands that perceiving the world differently like this can be strange and even scary, but he’s glad when it seems that you’re relatively calm. 

  Your nightly routines are slightly out of whack now—something that Zhongli isn’t very fond of, he quite likes it that after cleaning up after dinner, the two of you settle in the living room for a while. He tends to read and it varies what you get up to, but it’s always a shared time where you sit in silence or chat about your days.

  He does talk about his day to you, sitting on the comfortable seat in the living room with you on his lap, Zhongli recounts his day to you and expresses that he hopes you weren’t too bored alone in the home today, and that perhaps he can convince the director to allow him to bring you for a day. He strokes your back and smiles as a rumbling purr leaves you, he scratches under your chin and touches his forehead to yours as you seem to have fallen asleep on his lap. He reaches for his book and decides to read for a while before taking you to bed. 

  Despite the mishap, he’s glad you’re safe—he will endeavour to be more careful in the future and ensure you won’t be hurt or disturbed by his work. 

[analviel]

Damian on an interview that irrevocably won the hearts of the entire world his reputation wil never, ever, ever recover:

So he's on a quick interview just a light one that's probably gonna be edited to 5 mins that involved sitting and talking, and -most importantly the reason he'd suffered through it- petting dogs. And they get on to his dreams and expectations of the future, and of course he says something about having established veterinary clinics and caring homes for animals, and then he's asked, personally what did he think he'd look like, what feature of your parents will you get and.

Damian answers height, definitely height, both his father and mother are tall people (he is going to loom over lesser plebeians he will not allow otherwise) and even Jason has proven it so there's an example and even Dick himself is tall, Duke is growing uo to be tall too, so the precursor is giving him a solid support to his theory, even if he might be of the slighter physique like Cass amd Tim they're still not what you'd call short just like mother and Selina, (here, the interviewer blinks as Damian so very seriously mulls on that, going on a rant of probabilities and likelihood and genetics), internally Damian feels very assured of himself because his mother also created him in a test tube and surely she'd give him only the best feature, he's not like his siblings who depended on luck and genetic lottery because it'd been rigged for him since the start Talia certainly did not and could not go that far okay so it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be tall and he's been bombarded by social media of exactly how beautiful his family was so there's no question about that.

Yes, Damian gets so heated and passionate about this..... That he clearly forgot one crucial thing about his supporting points here and that the interviewer refuse to bring up. His conclusion is surely sound and solid.

The facts he'd brought up to support that though.

Perhaps we have live reaction of his dawning realization and mortification.

Maybe, distracted by the doggos, he doesn't register this until much, much later.

Dick, Cass, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Steph (who'd maybe been included too in an aside regarding her lighter hair that had darkened so perhaps Damian should expect his dark brown hair, from Talia, to settle into something darker approaching his father, Tim, and Cass'), share the clip with a heartfelt if also teasing and half joking comments.

Dick: AWWWW😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗 We're a true family little D

Cass:, 💘❤️☺️

Jason: Yeah, absolutely solid argument here, I agree. Take the height Tim and Cass didn't.

Tim: I'll never forgive you if you grow taller than me, but I'll forgive you even less if, on top of that, you also don't grow taller than Jason.

Duke: This is so sweet dude 🥺🐶

Steph: Anticipating you in the hair color changing club (current members: my platinum-dark blonde, Jason's red-black)

Bruce: You make me proud

I love the trope of forgetting that you're not related.

[emmiesoverthemoon]

go ask your father!

pairing: lee minho x reader tags: drabble. domestic fluff. part of the emmieverse special—see here

minho is halfway through folding the freshly dried clothing in the laundry room when he hears it: the unmistakable chorus of tiny, judgmental meows.

he glances down. three pairs of eyes stare up at him like he is personally responsible for the downfall of society.

“what,” he asks flatly, holding up a pair of your socks.

soonie meows again—loud and mournful—and doongie rubs against his shin like he is trying to awaken guilt. dori simply stares. always watching. always planning.

“i fed you. i scooped your litter. i gave you those weird snacks you like,” minho lists, bending to scratch doongie’s head. “what else do you want, huh?”

they do not answer. they simply exist at him.

until—

the sound of the front door unlocking echoes from the other side of the house.

everything changes.

soonie bolts first, nearly slipping on the hallway rug. doongie trots after him with poise, and dori makes his usual dramatic entrance: meowing as if he just survived war.

minho snorts, shaking his head.

“traitors.”

you barely have one foot inside before you are surrounded.

“hi, my babies,” you coo, crouching down to pet them as they swirl around you in a furry storm. “missed me that much?”

minho stands at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, a hopeless little smile tugging at his mouth. the sight of his babies loving on you like this never gets old.

“they’ve been moping around like your absence broke each of their hearts,” he says, slowly approaching you from where he stood.

you grin at him. “maybe it did.”

he leans to kiss you hello, warm hands settling on your waist like they never want to leave. “well i missed you more,” he murmurs.

“i would hope so,” you quipped. you melt into his embrace for a beat, then pull back. “i’m starving.”

“same,” he agrees. “want me to start on—”

“i got it,” you wave his offer off, stepping into the kitchen. the cats follow after you immediately, falling into formation like little soldiers of chaos. they may as well be magnetised to you.

you open the fridge, eyeing them. “you just want food, huh?”

meows follow. of course they do.

you point down the hallway vaguely to where you left minho standing. “then go ask your father.”

there is a pause.

then three sets of paws patpatpat down the hall like a furry stampede. when they don’t find him near the entryway, they search the house.

not in the living room…

not in the bedroom…

….he’s in the laundry room again!

minho, in the middle of matching your sock pairs again, looks up just in time for the interrogation squad to arrive.

they meow. in sync.

he blinks. “did you—did they actually—”

from the kitchen, you call: “i delegated!”

minho just laughs, setting the socks aside to kneel on the floor like a medieval servant to his royal court.

“you guys are whipped.”

soonie hops in his lap. doongie starts purring. dori knocks over a cup.

minho sighs, grinning. “yeah, yeah. i’ll feed you. but only because your mother’s scary when she’s hungry.”

from the kitchen, you call once more: “i heard that!”

he smiles to himself, completely gone for this weird little family of his.

and for the record, the cats get fed first.

he knows his place.

tysm anon! i love writing lee know soft….. soft domestic lee know and i are married now

taglist (ask to be added here): @burlesquerade @makeitworse @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo @m-325 @slut4junho

[tojisteddy]

Sukuna calls you pet but it’s in an endearing way.

Does he still have an a superiority complex with humans being less than and sorcerers being better than them?

Obviously.

But you, you his precious little thing, are the most wonderful being imaginable.

Aside from him of course.

You don’t flinch when he knows he’s too loud, treat him with such a genuine kindness & concern when he’s hurt, you’re obedient, and look at him like hes the only thing on the planet.

Oh does he love being in your good graces above all else.

“Pet, bring us a snack.”

“Pet, let’s sleep longer.”

“We should hold hands pet, that’s what those who like each other do, yes?”

“You are look astonishing today as well pet. Ever so intelligent, ever so beautiful.”

And then he loves the way his pretty pet feeds him, so meticulous with every spoon full of piece of food. Not a drop of a single thing. And the king can’t help but grin ever so devilishly, pointing to his cheek that somehow had a pastry filling on it.

“Come clean it up for me pet.”

You know he’s just teasing you, eyes moving all over you, the way your blood pumps faster and goosebumps crawl all over your skin. But you gently wipe your hands on your yukata, taking a seat in his lap. You bring your lips close to where the crumb is, licking the raspberry filling off him. Before you can pull away, his lips meet yours. So gently, molding your lips together, back and forth. His are soft, so wonderfully soft against you plump one’s, you can’t help be want more.

And Sukuna gives it to you, slipping his long tongue into your mouth and fully tasting you, hes greedy, gripping your hips in his large hands. Guiding you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, swapping saliva, the taste of sugar and raspberries mixing between the two of you. He lets your tongues dance together, the smacking of lips fill your ears, till he’s certain he can feel your hardened nipples against him. Knows you’ll give him such a sultry look when he lets you pull away. Dazed and breathless.

He’s tantalizing, brushing your curls out of your face, holding your chin so your face is still in front of his, you still feel his breath against yours, “I think there’s a crumb on you too little one.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he hums deeply, eyes moving all over you, down to your lips, then back to your gorgeous brown orbs. He takes a bit more pastry filling on his thumb and smears it on your bottom lip, “Right here.”

“Please,” you gulp, caught in a wonderful trap, right here he wanted you, “please help me get it off my lord.”

The ends of his lips curve up, “Of course pet.”

[witchywithwhiskey]

happy birthday, congressman 💋

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: the congressman has been busy all day on his birthday, so before you meet him at the gala you're attending as his date, you send him a playfully revealing photo—and it gets the exact reaction you were hoping for.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sexting, nude photos, age gap (because bucky is 108 and reader's age is never referenced), light spanking, brief dry humping, clothes tearing, tit/nipple play, dirty talk, very light degradation, praise kink, congressman kink, pet names (baby), lipstick marking, possessiveness, teasing, flirting, kissing, some rough kissing, aftercare, cockwarming

word count: 4.1k

a/n: ok listen i know there's other stuff i need to be writing, but i always write a fic for bucky's birthday!! this year it really snuck up on me and i had nothing planned so i threw this idea/fic together today around a very long work day, so apologies if it's not up to my usual standard, but i hope y'all still enjoy it! ♡

Happy Birthday, congressman 💋 See you soon.

The flirty text was sent to Congressman James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes with a swoosh—but that wasn’t all you’d sent. You’d also attached a photo of yourself and, looking at it, you couldn’t help but smirk.

In the photo, you had your lips pursed as you blew a kiss at the camera, one eye closed in a coy wink. Although you knew the expression on your face, which was all dolled up for the gala that evening, would be enough to get Bucky’s attention, it wasn’t the whole focus of the photo.

No, that would be your tits.

Before snapping the photo, you’d pulled down the front of your gown and used your arm to push up your soft mounds, putting them on display for the camera—and, of course, whoever looked at the photo. Namely, Bucky.

But you paused to admire your camerawork. The angle made your tits look lush and supple, as much cleavage on display as was possible for you, and your nipples pebbled in such a way that they seemed to be begging for attention. 

It was by far one of your favorite nude photos you’d sent to Bucky and you eagerly awaited his response. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.

Thank you, baby. You look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you.

Your smirk softened into a sweeter smile. It wasn’t the response you were expecting, not after you’d sent the congressman a photo of your tits while he was probably still in official government meetings, but it was appreciated nonetheless, especially since you hadn’t seen him all day.

Bucky had been gone from the apartment you shared by the time you’d woken up that morning, which you suspected was an attempt to avoid any fuss about his birthday. He wasn’t exactly overly fond of attention. 

But you’d wanted to wake him up by worshipping his cock, which you were pretty sure he would’ve enjoyed. However, the congressman had had other ideas. You probably should’ve known he’d make sure his day was fully packed so no one would have time to wish him a happy birthday—if anyone aside from you even knew. 

The nude photo as a teaser for meeting up with him at the gala that evening was your next best idea to surprise him with something you knew he’d like. Of course, you’d thought it would get a little bit more of a rise out of him, though you couldn’t stop your heart from warming at the praise in his text.

While staring at the text, and smiling at your phone like the silly lovesick idiot you were for Bucky Barnes, another message came in.

But let me make something clear: You’re in trouble for that photo. The Prime Minister of Japan almost saw your tits. That’s unacceptable, baby.

There it was. The response you’d been hoping for.

The warmth of desire suffused your belly and a grin spread across your face while you laughed happily. You were so delighted by Bucky’s response, you spun around in a circle, too giddy with excitement for what he might be planning to stop yourself from dancing a little in triumph.

Once you finally calmed yourself, you tapped out a response to Bucky’s message, beaming smugly to yourself when you imagined the way he’d growl indignantly at your text when he got it.

You worry too much, old man. 

Not even waiting for a response, you gathered your things quickly and shoved them in a clutch. Then you called a car and flounced out of the apartment, heading to see your congressman. 

“Who gave you the right to look this gorgeous at such a boring event?” 

A cool metal hand slipped around your hip, pulling your body back into something warm and firm. You relaxed immediately into the familiar hold, Bucky’s subtle cologne wrapping around you like your favorite blanket. 

Tipping your head back, you brushed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, taking care not to leave any lipstick behind. A tingle of delight danced through your body as you felt the rasp of his scruff against your lips, and you were so wound up, you nearly begged Bucky to take you right there. 

Thankfully, in the crowded room full of people, you were able to keep things light.

“I believe it’s you, congressman, who protects my right to look gorgeous at this very important event,” you murmured teasingly, turning in Bucky’s arms so you faced him. You leaned in at the same time he did, your lips meeting in a brief peck before you both pulled away.

There was a time and a place for public displays of affection, but at the gala honoring the anniversary of the Battle of New York, while you were the date to Congressman Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it. 

The grand marble hall had been filled with artifacts from the battle, and all of New York City’s wealthiest and most influential people had turned out to gawk while sipping very expensive champagne. You were acutely aware of all the subtle glances you and the congressman were getting as you took brief refuge beside a large piller.

Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from rubbing your hands down the lapels of Bucky’s suit jacket, pretending you were smoothing out any wrinkles from the black fabric, when you were really copping a feel. You never could get enough of touching him, your fingers digging greedily into the soft-padded muscles beneath his clothes. 

“Are you having a happy birthday, Buck?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper to make sure no one around you heard your question. You were certain he wanted to avoid a night of birthday wishes on top of all the smalltalk he’d have to endure.

Bucky’s arms had settled around your lower back and he tugged you in a little closer, trapping you against his chest with his vibranium forearm. Your eyes flared with surprise and your smile hitched up a notch. You could feel the beginning of a bulge in the front of Bucky’s suit, which made warmth bloom and unfurl in your lower belly.

“It’s getting better now that you’re here,” Bucky murmured, ducking down to brush a kiss to your cheek. The action also put his mouth close to your ear, giving him the opportunity to growl, “And the moment I get you alone, you’ll be paying the price for that picture you sent.”

Tossing your head back, you let out a light, tinkling laugh that certainly did not sound anything like a devious cackle. You knew the gala wasn’t the right place to be cackling at Bucky’s sinful promise, but that didn’t stop you from giving him as good as you got.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, old man,” you teased with a wink before pressing your own kiss to Bucky’s cheek. 

When you pulled back, you noticed you’d left a stain of lipstick in the shape of your mouth. A deep, instinctive part of you wanted to leave the mark on Bucky’s cheek. You wanted him to wear it as a reminder of who he belonged to. 

But you knew you couldn’t leave it. It wasn’t the time or the place.

Before you wiped it away, though, you pulled your phone from your clutch and turned again in Bucky’s arms, nestling your back against his chest as you lifted your phone and smiled.

Bucky’s eyes snagged on the mark on his cheek, the corners of his mouth curving into a smug, devastating smirk. His blue eyes were brimming with heat as you snapped a quick selfie of the two of you, his expression offering dark promises as you grinned unrepentantly with your mark on his cheek. 

Once your phone was stowed away, you used your thumb to wipe the lipstick from Bucky’s cheek. When that was done, you wrapped yourself around his vibranium arm, tucking your body into his side.

“Alright, congressman, let’s schmooze,” you said, squaring your shoulders and readying yourself for the dozens and dozens of smalltalk conversations you’d have to have with all of New York City’s finest. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Bucky agreed grimly, like he was preparing to charge into battle instead of into the crowd of elegantly dressed people milling about the large hall. 

Before you stepped into the crowd together, Bucky turned his head and brushed a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get you alone and all to myself—and then I’ll truly get to enjoy my birthday.”

With those words swirling around in your head, Bucky led the way into the crowd, stopping after only a few strides to speak to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the director of the CIA. You forced yourself to push Bucky’s tantalizing promise from your mind as you fixed a smile on your face and greeted Valentina. 

The door to your apartment hadn’t even snapped shut before Bucky spun you around and pinned your back to the door, his big body crushing you against the firm wood as his mouth crashed down on yours.

His kiss was furious, all the pent up desire pouring out of him in the rough way his lips devoured yours, wringing breathy gasps and keening whines from the depths of your throat in mere minutes. 

The gala had lasted for ages, and Bucky hadn’t had a chance pull himself away from the constant smalltalk, let alone make good on his promises. In the car on the ride back to your apartment overlooking the skyline of New York City, both of you had been buzzing with need and desire, and you practically raced each other home. 

A moan tumbled from your lips as Bucky sank his teeth into your lower lip, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck to pull him even closer. Greedily, your fingers raked through his soft brown hair, lifting one of your thighs to hook around his hip and press your core against the thick bulge in his pants. 

Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your thigh, holding it up an squeezing you hard. There was a possessive hunger in the way his fingers dug into your soft flesh, and it made your own desire ratchet even higher. 

In the next moment, Bucky was bending down and grabbing the back of your other thigh. He lifted you up while your legs hooked around his waist, his mouth never breaking from yours as he continued his ravaging kiss. 

Your hands cupped his face, giving him just as good as you got, nipping at his lips and licking your tongue into his mouth, consuming him just as wholly as he was you.

“How much do you like this dress?”

Bucky’s question was a growl against the edge of your jaw, his lips breaking from yours to press hot, heated kisses down to your neck. The rasp of his stubble against your throat made you shiver and whine, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to suck at the pulse thundering beneath your skin.

“It’s not…my favorite…” you huffed in between gasping breaths, your hips rocking impatiently against Bucky’s stomach. He had a thin layer of softness padding the hard, super soldier muscles beneath, and it felt divine to grind against, giving you some of the friction your body was craving, even if it wasn’t nearly enough. 

Your answer had barely passed your lips before Bucky was pressing you harder to the door, freeing him up to grab handfuls of your dress and tear it open like it was nothing more than tissue paper. But he didn’t stop there, he ripped right through the bodice until the garment was hanging off your shoulders in tatters. 

A gasp wrenched from your lips as the cool air of the apartment brushed against your heated skin. You were half stunned by the shear strength of what he’d done, staring at him in awe, but Bucky must’ve misinterpreted your expression because he shot you an apologetic grimace.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, sounding sincerely remorseful. 

You still hadn’t recovered from how hot it’d been for Bucky to literally tear your dress off your body, so you just nodded distractedly.  

He hummed in acknowledgement before he continued ravishing your body, burying his face in your tits and lavishing them with attention. You hadn’t been able to wear a bra with your dress so there was nothing stopping Bucky from kissing and nipping your soft mounds, and dragging the flat of his tongue over your sensitive nipples.

“Ah, yes, Bucky, please,” you cried softly, arching your spine and pushing your chest further into Bucky’s mouth. It took you a moment for his words to properly filter through the haze of lust in your mind, and when they did, you snorted. “I don’t care about the dress—make it up to me by getting inside me. Now.”

A growl rumbled up from Bucky’s chest. The sound was muffled by your tits, but no less menacing.

“You’re not in any position to be giving me orders, baby,” he warned, yanking you away from the door and storming deeper into the apartment. His gait was heavy, and even hearing his footfalls somehow turned you on more, imagining the determined way he was moving.

As he walked, the remnants of your dress fluttered to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your drenched panties and the high heels still strapped to your feet. Meanwhile, Bucky was wearing almost his full suit, having shed his jacket in the car ride home. 

The starched fabric of his shirt was rubbing deliciously against your nipples as you clung to his neck, and you writhed against him like a cat in heat. You needed more, needed him. Immediately. 

“Now that you’ve got me alone, what’re you gonna do with me, congressman?” you murmured huskily in Bucky’s ear as he stalked over to the couch in your living room. You pressed hot, needy kisses his jaw and neck, delighting in every lipstick print your mouth left on his skin.

Bucky paused beside the couch, taking a moment to make sure your legs were arranged in such a way that they wouldn’t be caught beneath him, then he sat down, sinking deep into the soft cushions. 

While you perched on his lap, his bulge nestled against the heated juncture of your thighs, Bucky sat back and spread his arms wide across the back of the couch. You pouted a little at the fact that he wasn’t touching you anymore, but before you could voice the complaint, he spoke.

“I’m going to watch your pretty tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth when he saw you suck in an excited gasp of breath. “You’re gonna have to work for my cum, baby, so let’s see you hop to it.”

He gave your ass a sharp spank of encouragement, like one might do to an animal to get it to go, and he lifted a brow in an expectant look, nodding toward his lap.

You knew he was acting like an imperious jerk on purpose, and any other time it might’ve riled you up enough to be a brat. But you were too worked up to care.

With deft, eager fingers, you undid Bucky’s belt and fly, reaching inside his pants to pull out his cock. He was hard and thick, already leaking precum. It was a small tragedy that you couldn’t take your time to swirl your tongue around the tip and taste him first. 

But Bucky was already beginning to look impatient, so you made quick work of lifting yourself up onto your knees and lining up your pussy with the tip of his cock. You had to hook a finger around your panties to pull them aside, but then you had a better idea.

“A little help, Buck?” you asked, lifting your eyes to his and tugging on your panties so he’d know what you wanted.

A feral smile stole across Bucky’s face, and then his fingers were curling around the fabric at your hip. He tore through your panties even more easily than your dress, ripping them from your body and tossing the ruined material somewhere over his shoulder. 

It was just as hot as him tearing off your dress, but you reveled in it for only a moment before the sense of urgency returned. 

You pressed down on the tip of Bucky’s cock, moaning when it slipped inside your dripping hole. The stretch was familiar but no less delicious as you lowered yourself slowly down the shaft, savoring every inch that pushed inside your tight heat.

“Feel soooo good, congressman,” you slurred, your head hazy with pleasure. 

“Mm, you feel good too, baby,” Bucky murmured. His hips lifted slightly from the couch and he fucked up into you, burying himself another inch while you gasped in surprise. “Such a tight, hot cunt—perfect for keeping your congressman’s cock warm.”

At his words, your gaze caught Bucky’s and you found him grinning at you with a hungry glint in his eye. 

An excited thrill swooped through your belly and it was in that moment you knew you had a long night ahead of you. A long night with Bucky spent right where he was meant to be—inside you. You couldn’t have held back your eager grin if you’d tried.

“I’ll be happy to keep your cock warm, congressman,” you purred, leaning forward and brushing a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “After you’ve filled me up with cum.”

Your cheeky comment earned you another good-natured spank on your ass. It didn’t hurt much, and you giggled as the slight sting made your pussy even wetter.

After that, it took only a few more moments for you to work yourself down on Bucky’s cock, taking him to the hilt. There, you paused and savored the feeling of being full, your hands wandering up from Bucky’s stomach to the collar of his white dress shirt. 

At some point in your furious making out, your fingers had undone the top buttons of his shirt and you could see just a hint of the undershirt beneath—and much more tantalizingly, the dark shadow of his chest hair. Your fingers played in the soft hair before you lifted your eyes to Bucky, a taunting smile flirting around the edges of your lips. 

“You sure you’re ready for this, old man?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl that had no business being as hot as it was. His vibranium hand slapped your ass, and though he kept a tight leash on his super solder strength so he didn’t hurt you, that one stung a little bit more than his earlier, more playful spanks. 

“Bounce that pretty ass on my cock, baby, or I’ll do much worse than make you work for my cum.” His voice was low, dangerous, the anger in it dripping down your spine like hot candle wax and setting your nerves on fire. 

Before you’d even decided to comply with Bucky’s command, your hips were lifting up from his lap, then slamming back down on his cock. The force of it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs, and Bucky grunted, affected just as much by the tight grip of your pussy. 

True to his word, Bucky didn’t help you fuck him. 

Sure, his hands spanked you every once in a while, when you slowed down too much or began rocking your hips on his cock, chasing your release before he was ready. He even made it more difficult for you, torturing your tits by groping your soft flesh in his strong hands and ducking forward to suck on your nipples. 

But you were determined to get him there. So it was all your hard work that got Bucky to the edge, your thighs quivering with the effort as you bounced up and down his cock. By that time, you were a whiny, sweaty mess, begging him pathetically to cum inside you. 

“Please, congressman, please fill me up, please cum inside me—I need it, I need your cum, Bucky, god, please,” you babbled helplessly. Your hips were rocking and bouncing and working on his cock with every muscle in your body, all of which felt like warmed butter after fucking him for so long. 

“Oh, you need it, huh?” Bucky cooed patronizingly, his hand slipping down from your hip so his thumb could find your clit. “Need my cum in this desperate cunt?”

When you nodded emphatically, Bucky chuckled meanly, his eyes going even darker as he held your gaze. 

“Then maybe next time you’ll think a little bit more about the consequences of your actions before you send me a picture of your tits while I’m at a summit with half the world’s leaders. Your tits are only for me to see, isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, only for you, Bucky, I won’t send you another nude photo while you’re at work, I promise,” you rambled quickly, a whining, pleading tone in your voice. 

Bucky’s gaze searched your face, and he must’ve been satisfied by what he saw because something in him snapped. He gave up all pretense of restraint as he fucked up into you from the couch, bracing your hips with his hands. 

Your folds were wet and messy, but the pad of his thumb was ruthless as he rubbed circles against your achy clit. Pleasure burst behind your eyes, and you cried out, your body barreling toward your release at breakneck speed.

“Cum, baby, cum all over my cock,” Bucky urged, his voice huskier and more demanding. 

Even if you’d wanted to hold back, you couldn’t. Bucky’s cock, his thumb on your clit, his voice in his ears—it was all too perfect, too depraved, too hot. 

The tension that had been coiling in your belly snapped and you threw your head back, screaming your release to the rooftops of New Your City as pleasure wracked your body.

Bucky’s metal arm banded around your lower back, pinning you to his lap while he buried his cock balls-deep in your cunt. His face fell to your tits, your soft curves muffling his furious grunts as he chased his release in your fluttering pussy. 

He followed you over the edge a moment later, groaning your name as he spilled himself deep inside you. 

The twitching of his cock and the warmth of his seed sent more aftershocks of bliss through your body and you trembled in Bucky’s arms, your fingers clinging desperately to the collar of his shirt. 

Entwined together on the couch in your apartment, you and Bucky caught your breath, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up together, your chests heaving in tandem and the smell of sex permeating the air.

After a moment, he leaned back into the soft cushions behind him, pulling you gently to sprawl across his chest. You settled against him with a contented sigh. 

Bucky’s metal hand cupped the back of your neck, cradling your head and tucking it beneath his chin while the fingers of his other hand stroked idly up and down your spine. You murmured happily, snuggling deeper into Bucky’s warmth and appreciating the moment of being with him.

“So, did you have a happy birthday, congressman?” you asked teasingly. Your voice was softer than a whisper, but you had no doubt your super soldier could hear you perfectly. 

A rumbling came from the depths of Bucky’s chest, but it sounded pleased. “I did. Thank you, baby.” 

“You’re welcome, Buck,” you whispered back, turning your head and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, right above where his heart beat in his chest. 

When you pulled back and saw a faint imprint of your lipstick, the last remnants that had still been clinging to your lips, you smiled. In fact, you were pleased with all the lipstick marks you’d left all over Bucky’s face and neck—that deep, instinctive part of you was very satisfied. 

Bucky chuckled, pulling you back down to lay on him again, and you knew he was just as primally satisfied by the promise he’d wrung from you just before he’d made you cum. 

Of course, there was always a loophole, and you were determined to find it. But that could wait for another time.

For the moment, you were just glad you’d been able to give your favorite person in the world, Congressman James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, a happy birthday—because he made you happy every day of the year.

[freyito]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴍᴇʀᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ...

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, mydei, phainon, anaxa (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you bring home a chimera that looks like them.

✧ a/n: SOMEHOW IT FEELS LIKE ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE POSTED A FIC??? IDK IF THIS IS NORMALLY HOW LONG IT TAKES ME BUT AUGHHH!!!!!!! i got a job again and many more things happening irl but i am FINALLY! FINALLY!!! starting to get back into the groove of writing and drawing and even gaming teehee... sometimes all you need is a change to get out of a slump i guess.

you may also notice that a few characters are missing from this post! thats cause whenever i do one of these big ol posts, a couple of characters really tend to make it feel like it drags on for me. that leads to me really dreading writing the fic and, of course, leads to me taking a month on the fic lol. this will be one of the last posts i do with all the male characters (and female, if i ever decide to write for them in the future), before i move onto writing five characters at most. im sorry if you guys liked these posts and your favorite characters werent written for, i know these are like. my most popular pieces. it just takes so long and by the time i reach certain characters i feel like im all outta juice.

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

⎯ Aventurine

“Well… I suppose we’ll see how this goes…”

AVENTURINE isn’t exactly against the idea of a chimera, but with all his catcakes, is it a good idea…? Both of you don’t know, and you feel a little embarrassed to admit that you didn’t think of this before bringing home the chimera. He’s not mad though, he’s quite taken by the little creature. But, with his penchant to collect catcakes, he worries about possible socialization issues.

The chimera, however, fits right in– aside from its striking eyes. Loafing and lounging with the catcakes, day in, day out. With a big ol’ smile on its cute face, happy to be with its kin… You think. Chimeras have the body of lion cubs, right? So aren’t they like… kind of related to catcakes? It’s a question you’d rather not ponder. Still, even so far from home, the chimera seems quite content. Paired with a bunch of companions who are all spoiled equally.

That being said, it seems you have chosen one of the laziest chimeras known to man. Ever since you had brought it home, it had kept Aventurine in bed even later, refusing to get up from his chest, even if the man had a meeting. It seems Aventurine has spoiled it far too much, or it has gotten so used to the comfortable life that it’s gotten quite stubborn…

⎯ Dr. Ratio

“Interesting….”

Most would not take RATIO as any type of pet person. No cats, certainly no dogs, no birds… the list goes on. Even his colleagues would not have guessed he’d take such a shine to such a… cute creature. As far as they know, cute is not a word within Ratio’s vocabulary. So, when his peers and students see a chimera toddling behind him, they can’t help but be interested.

He acts like he isn’t attached to the chimera, treating it more like a specimen than the cute little lion-butterfly-thing it is. When you first brought it to him, he was quite intrigued. A creature from a planet that not even the memokeepers can reach… It's a wonderful research opportunity, and a gift. One he cherishes, despite his logical approach to it. 

It seems he has bonded with the chimera on a deeper level than you expected. It just so happens that you have picked up a chimera that not only looks like Veritas, but also one that was just as enlightened as he was. You think. You don’t understand a lick of the chimera’s little chirps, but Ratio seems to understand well enough. Then again, the math that he prattles on about with the chimera, you don’t understand either.

⎯ Boothill

“Awh, who’s this little feller?”

BOOTHILL is actually quite delighted when you bring a chimera home to him, even if your reasoning is a little… odd. Looks like him? Well, there’s only one of him and that means there’s only one look-alike; the man in the mirror. Still, despite this, he’s practically in love with the chimera. It’s been so long since he’s even had a pet– and he’s always missed the dogs and cats on the ranch– so why not indulge in your silly little shenanigans, and appreciate this little critter you’ve taken the time to pick out for him?

The two get along so well. Boothill had always wanted a pet eventually, but with his lifestyle he was afraid to ever adopt. Considering he was running around half the galaxy, he was wanted, and the closest thing to home he knew now was a ship, it was just unfair to subject any sort of animal to that life. Now that he had you and a proper home, however, he had been debating getting a pet for a long, long while.

So imagine his surprise when you had handed off a chimera to him the minute he got home after a particularly rough bounty. Even the most snarkiest, annoying personality would have him charmed. It could constantly choose you over him, and he’d still fawn over the thing. He’s happy you have someone to keep you company when he’s away, but the little kid in him (who remained, despite the fact that everything around him had burned to ash) is much more happy to come home to a pet once more.

⎯ Gallagher

“Another stray, hm?”

Despite the chimera’s protests that it is not a stray, GALLAGHER doesn’t seem to mind a new pet. He’ll just pretend he didn’t hear that comment about the chimera looking like him. You had compared him to a dog so many times before, that he was practically immune. Even if a chimera wasn't a dog, or a cat, or… well, there was no use in wondering what exactly it was. Though, he was quite intrigued that you had brought home something from Amphoreus of all places, it seems that the nameless just keep going for bigger and bigger marks.

The chimera itself is quite happy to get away from its work and laze about. On the days that Gallagher is home, it enjoys curling up on his lap (or his chest, if Gallagher is napping), and bathing in his and your attention. It’s quite domestic really, you have seen Gallagher with his other pets before, but he’s more of a big dog kind of guy. To see something relatively small curled up with him, when he’s watching TV or getting ready for bed, it makes you feel… light.

He’s also quite happy to have a pet that can actually talk back. Gallagher often catches himself muttering to himself because of how much he tends to talk to his pets. So when he gets responses from the chimera, even if it’s asking to go back to bed or telling him that this work is just ‘too much’ (all Gallagher was doing was pouring himself a drink, the chimera simply chose to follow him), it was still wonderful for him to have a buddy. It’s not everyday that you have a pet that can talk back to you, right?

⎯ Sunday

“Ah… you thought of me…?”

Now, SUNDAY isn’t against pets, he’s just a little nervous. The last pet he had… Well, you know what happened to it. But, by all means a chimera is an extraterrestrial. So, naturally, he’s a little shocked. Even if the little chimera is as cute as a button and just so damn happy to be in his lap. While he knew stepping aboard the Astral Express would mean he would see quite a lot– which included different planets, and by proxy, different flora, fauna, people, and what not– he never really expected to be face to face with such a… thing.

Looking into its wide, golden eyes, however, he feels a sense of… kinship. As weird as it is. He does his best to ignore it, not to get too overly attached to the chimera. After all, surely you must bring it back to Amphoreus. Right? He does his best to ignore the papers in your hands, and chooses instead to believe that this ‘adoption’ is more of a ‘foster’ situation.

That worry dissipates with the coming days. He finds himself quite enamored with the chimera, even sneaking it leftovers when he can. He doesn’t mean to, but he ends up reading the creature passages from his books, or from some data entries he borrowed from the archive. In fact, the idea that you would have to bring the chimera back breaks his heart a little. Not that you would, it’s quite cute to watch the chimera follow Sunday around.

⎯ Argenti

“What a stunning creature!”

Isn’t the word ‘cute’ better instead? Nevertheless, ARGENTI is quite enraptured by the chimera. So much so that he doesn’t seem to realize the similarity of the creature. Really, when you saw the sparkle in its eyes, you knew this was perfect for him. The similarity was uncanny, really. With the way the chimera was staring into your very soul, chattering off (which, you could already imagine it was praising the beauty of you), a part of you wanted to get it contacts.

Needless to say, The chimera is glued to Argenti. Or perhaps it's the other way around? The man doesn’t have any traveling companions, and he had preferred for you to stay on his ship whenever he was out on one of his excursions. The chimera, however, seemed to be quite the trusty companion. That little ‘awoo’ must be vicious, given how highly the man spoke of it. ‘It’s like a cry from the very heavens!’

It seems your gift is quite well loved, though. Not that Argenti would ever dislike your gifts. You could give him a rock– one that isn’t even shiny or shaped in an interesting way– and he’d treat it like you’d have proposed to him. The chimera, however, seems to have struck a rather special chord within him. It is hard to know if you’ve truly surprised him, but you can definitely see how attached he is to the chimera. It has been too long since someone gave him something so meaningful. Perhaps even the first time.

⎯ Mr. Reca

“Ah, is this a new crew member…? Or perhaps, a new star?”

Is there a universe where MR. RECA isn’t looking for some scene to capture? ‘Cause it’s definitely not this one. No one has ever had the ability to capture something, anything from Amphoreus, so of course he’s fascinated with the chimera. He glosses over the fact that the critter looks like him. Not enough time to think about that, when this is a star in the making. What shall he come up with this time?

He unknowingly dotes on that poor little Chimera, as well… in his own way. There’s no critiques for the creature's performance (though, you must think that it doesn’t understand exactly what Reca’s goal is.), only dazzling praise, even for something as simple as curling up and taking a nap. Such a tiny little thing, full of all sorts of inspiration! It deserves nothing more than the best of praise!

For at least a month straight, he simply cannot stop thinking of ideas and ways to make the chimera a star. A documentary, perhaps. No, no, that’s too simple. A thriller, maybe? Now, that would be interesting. How could he use such a cute creature for such a medium…? Ah, so many things to work out! This excitement keeps him fueled for days. Oftentimes, he’s writing out scenes at his desk, pacing, or even talking your ear off. All while the chimera is curled up in his lap, content as can be.

⎯Sampo Koski

“And what’s this? A new business venture?”

Of course SAMPO looks at the chimera and sees a business opportunity. Not that he’s planning to sell it, no… this little fella could be the new face of his business. Cold Feet Junior, even. Needless to say, he loves the chimera. Who wouldn’t? Such a precious little treasure from way out there, somewhere not even the great Sampo Koski can get to.

Aside from the chimera now being the face of his business, he brings the thing everywhere like it’s a little chihuahua. It gets pampered to high heaven, with little treats even you have never heard about before. From all sorts of places, from Izumo to Punklorde. You start to wonder if these treats are even good for the chimera, considering just how different these foods must be from the ones back home. The chimera seems fine enough, however.

When he can’t bring the chimera with him, however, he’s the most pathetic man you know. He’ll fake cry, use a voice that is just so tear-jerking, and say a sorrowful goodbye to the chimera. He texts you everyday when he is out, begging for pictures, asking if it's okay, asking if it's eaten… and so on. You, of course, do your best to shower him with pictures of the chimera, assuring him that it’s never been better. To which, he always responds with some sort of keyboard smash (rare for him), and praises going your way, and the chimeras way.

⎯ Jing Yuan

“Hmm…”

JING YUAN could never turn down a gift from you, of course. Especially one so cute. If you hadn’t caught him at such an inopportune time (also known as nap time), perhaps his reaction would be more grand. Or the same, he’s never been one for big expressions. A simple ‘thank you’, a kiss, and something in return has always been his style. However,  this seems like a lot more than just a simple gift. A creature from Amphoreus… and a potential playmate for Mimi.

‘Potentially’ becomes a ‘definitely’ after some socializing. Instead of the chimera attaching itself to Jing Yuan, it’s very, very fond of Mimi. The grimalkin is quite well tempered, if not tolerant. The way the Chimera climbs onto him, like he is a mighty steed and not a proud lion… it’s charming in its own way. And yet, all Mimi does is maybe huff a little, and be on his merry way. Most of the time, he’d do the exact opposite the chimera wanted, by the sound of its annoyed chirps. Perhaps this was his way of playing with such a smaller creature…?

The chimera ultimately finds its spot on the bed. When you and Jing Yuan cuddled up, Mimi took his spot at the end of the bed. The chimera, unsure whether to stick themself at the end of the bed, in between you and Jing Yuan, or just sleep on the floor. Before it decides to exclude itself, Mimi makes the decision for it. With another huff (perhaps irritated that he had to leave his warm spot), he hops down from the bed, grabs the chimera by its scruff (not without it complaining, of course), and hops right back up. When you wake up in the morning, you find the chimera, stuck between Mimi’s paws, with the most content, familiar, smile on its face, while Mimi licks up its cheek repeatedly.

⎯ Blade

“...”

How many more times will this happen? First a cat cake, now a chimera. What’s next? A seal? BLADE really doesn’t know how to react. To be thought of is wonderful, but does it really always have to be in this kind of way? How many more creatures out there look like him? He can only hope you don’t find them for your ‘Blade collection’. Those poor, poor souls…

Regardless of his… pondering, the gift doesn’t go unappreciated. The chimera and Blade are like two halves of a whole, really. While Blade is sulking, so is the chimera… right next to him. When you adopted it, you swore it was just full of energy. Chirping and chattering to anyone who would listen, chimera, human, chrysos heir, no one was free from its chattering. In truth, you thought it was silly that something that held such a resemblance to such a broody man had such whimsy.

So, to see the little critter suddenly adapt Blade’s sulking and… edge, it’s a little surprising. Or not, if you understood how this tale has gone before. It’s actually kind of cute in its own odd way. When you point out the similarities in personality, all Blade feels he can do is grumble and huff. He should be used to your penchant for finding things that look and act like him by now, but somehow you always manage to surprise him. 

⎯ Luocha

“What an… intriguing gift…”

LUOCHA is never one to turn down your gifts, and he certainly won’t start now. But, despite the worlds he has traveled to and all he’s seen, somehow he’s never seen quite a creature. Perhaps it is the resemblance that throws him off. He doesn’t want to turn down your gift, but where he travels to may not be the safest place for the little Chimera. Very rarely does he stay home long enough to take care of any pet, either. He rationalizes that while it is a little amusing, this must be for you.

And of course he isn’t going to take that kind of companionship from you. It’s actually kind of endearing to him that you went through all this trouble to find a cute little look-alike. He’s more entertained by the way you dote on it, by the way you call it ‘Luo-Luo’ (even though the Chimera seems over it), and he wonders to himself if you truly got this chimera for him, or to have something to coddle while he was away. Not that you coddled him, normally. He isn’t a man to be doted on like that, and you are just too shy to do that to him.

He indulges in the adoption of the chimera, of course. Even when he’s out for months on end, he makes sure to call and check up on the Chimera (and you, but he does that normally). He shouldn’t be so surprised to see all the little outfits you’ve stuck the critter in, from cats (which makes no sense, considering the body of a chimera was a lion), to wolves. He wonders how many people you have commissioned for these little outfits…

⎯ Jiaoqiu

“And this charming little companion is…?”

JIAOQIU truly thought that the Tuskipir would be his only pet. He didn’t really need a service animal outside of the emotional support, considering he had a cane, and he knew the Yaoqing like the back of his hand. You, however, decide that if one critter does well, why won’t two do better? Plus, while the Tuskipir was used for more emotional wellbeing, Chimeras were experienced with work, and when you think about it, they’d make quite the service animals. 

What a shame that he can’t see the resemblance clearly. Still, he is quite touched by the thoughtfulness behind your gift. The chimera warms up to him all too easily, immediately taking its place by his side. Jiaoqiu doesn’t verbally admit it, but being thought of in such a way, especially after a trip that took you across the cosmos warms his heart. Even if he is pretty much completely recovered, it was quite nice to be cared for. Even as a healer.

In truth, as endearing as your gift was, he had expected the chimera to get in his way, under his legs, and become annoying in all sorts of ways. Given how happily it yipped and barked when you first arrived with it, he truly assumed it would be an annoyance. He’s pleasantly surprised that once the chimera has acclimated and settled, it becomes a wonderful companion. Chimera’s stomachs are so strong, you think, watching as Jiaoqiu feeds the critter a particular slice of beef that almost looks red, with the amount of spice he has put in the hotpot broth.

⎯ Moze

“I… Hm.”

It is rare for MOZE to talk without thinking. It is even rarer to interrupt his thoughts all together. You should be impressed with yourself. When met with the gloomy demeanor of the Chimera, Moze can only squint, open his mouth to form words, and ultimately lose them. What is he supposed to say? He’s never had a pet before, the strays in the alleyways who liked his scent were the closest thing to having one. All he really can do is hold the Chimera and stare into those oddly familiar eyes.

There is a quiet camaraderie between the two, once the confusion settles from Moze’s mind. When Moze is home (considering his work is too dangerous for any sort of pet), the two have a tacit, quiet understanding that you can’t quite… get. The Chimera follows Moze around, at a distance, and studies him closely, as if trying to commit his movements to memory. You swear, at some point, you heard Moze say ‘this is how you sweep’. When you walked in the room to check, the two were quiet as can be, while Moze was sweeping the kitchen floor, the Chimera perched on the counter.

When Moze is out, the Chimera sits by the door, or in the living room, or sometimes sleeps in his spot on the bed while waiting for him. It’s almost kind of heartbreaking when you think about it, knowing Moze is gone for most of the week. At the very least, it seems the Chimera is much, much more receptive to cuddles than your dear lover is. As much as it seems to miss its twin, it can’t resist curling up in your arms and taking a nap. It seems that the Chimera catches up on sleep in Moze’s place.

⎯ Mydeimos

“Hmph.”

MYDEI refuses to acknowledge the similarity. He pouts, sighs, and does his best to walk off and ignore the furry little companion you had brought home. The chimera trots after Mydei regardless, happy as can be, even if the man was ignoring it. You had to commend him, really. If you had something that cute following you around, you would fold immediately. But Mydei was stronger than you (and much, much more stubborn).

When Mydeimos wasn’t home, the chimera took up all his spots, short of the one in the kitchen. It’d sit in his chair at the table, enjoy the warmth of the private bath, and even take his spot on the bed. Which, Mydei truly doesn’t appreciate. Some days he is out from dawn till dusk, but he has always made it a point to come back home just before you fall asleep, so the two of you could sleep together. So to find you curled up with this little rascal, who was oh so happy to take his place, he doesn’t know what to feel.

He’s not jealous. No, no, he swears he isn’t. Why would he be jealous of a chimera? How silly. Despite that, you notice how he’s suddenly in much more of a rush to see you on the days that he is gone. He tries to beat the chimera to the bed, establishes his dominance in the kitchen (as if anyone could beat him), and makes it known– well.. you don’t know what he’s trying to prove to a chimera of all things. But it’s quite funny watching him try to one-up the creature, who was simply acting oblivious. Everytime you pet the chimera or praise it, you can always hear Mydei sigh. It’s not that he was neglecting the chimera in any way, not, he just had to one-up it. Almost every time he could.

⎯ Phainon

“Aha… Do I really look like this thing…?”

You are the third person to tell PHAINON a certain chimera looks like him. It worries him a little. Does he, a truly fearsome warrior that totally doesn’t have the air of a puppy, look like such a cute little creature? Looking into the chimera’s eyes, which are practically shining, he can’t help but concede… only for you, though. 

The very first thing this chimera does is challenge Phainon himself. To his surprise (and dismay), the chimera starts to take all his favorite spots.  Right by your legs, on your chest when you're sleeping, or when you're just laying down, and even in the baths. You find it cute, but Phainon… he’s not one to turn down a challenge, even if it’s initiated by a chimera. He takes every chance he can get to sweep you up off your feet and carry you off somewhere the chimera can only watch, like the hot baths.

While you find this kind of charming, if not funny, you can't help but feel bad for the chimera. When you show even the smallest amount of pity for it, however, Phainon decides its time to switch tactics. Instead of taking everything the Chimera did as a challenge, now it was a battle of charm. Anytime the Chimera begs for food (within his proximity), he rests his chin on your shoulder and tries to snatch the food from you. If the Chimera is sleeping on your lap, he makes an effort to also try and lay his head in your lap, and always, always, looks up at you with those pretty blues. You have to admit it's cute, but kind of pathetic. Not that you would ever want him to change.

⎯ Anaxagoras

“Hmph. But it is no Dromas.”

You, of course, know about ANAXA’s love for Dromases more than anything. You were one of the few who were graced by him and his magnificent onesie’s presence, after all. But, still, when you saw the little chimera, with its muted green coat and its missing eye, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Perhaps he is truly amused at the fact that you have found his doppelganger? Or maybe he’s finally figured out where one of his eyepatches has finally gone… either way, his tone is hard to read.

It is not long until you notice how he dotes on the chimera… in his own way, at least. He doesn’t outright ignore the critter when it toddles behind him, and on more than one occasion you have caught him talking to it, prattling on about his theories while he cleans his gun. Despite acting annoyed that you had taken one of his eyepatches for a ‘silly little costume’, he does not attempt to remove it. Not once. You take this as a victory, of course.

The real kicker is when you caught him sewing a Dromas onesie for the Chimera. His hands aren’t the steadiest, but he sits so quietly (for once), all while the Chimera lays curled up right next to his legs. You don’t mean to stare for too long, but he ends up catching you. Instead of acting shy (Which, he never did), and brushing you off, he only huffs softly, and shakes his head, before going back to his sewing. You read this as an invitation to properly watch, and when you step into the room, he doesn’t complain.

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS

[jeonstudios]

anatomy of a vampire | 01

a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.

pairing: vampire!jk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)

genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none in this part (maybe anatomy talk/vet talk?), but there's gonna be like... inspection kink-stuff later on 🤪 more detailed warnings to come <3

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/? 

<previous | next>

© anatomy of a vampire is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

You’re halfway through your lunch when Namjoon pokes his head into the break room, a stethoscope around his neck and thick-rimmed glasses low on his nose.

“Reception just got a call about a home visit.”

“Today?” you ask, your mouth full of chicken sandwich as you glance at your wristwatch. You and Namjoon are way too close for you to care about being ladylike.

“Mhm.”

You pause. Not many clinics in your small town offer home visits, and even fewer do it on short notice. For your clinic, it’s usually about an old dog being put to rest at home—incredibly sad, but not an emergency. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Not on the minute, but needs done today.”

You glance at the patient chart on the table in front of you. “I think this’ll be quick. I’ll go after this one.”

“You sure?” Namjoon asks. “Technically, it’s my turn.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should see Oakley when he comes; he’s not very fond of me.”

Oakley, a returning patient with chronic stomach issues, has managed to spray paint you a yellowy brown on three different occasions. From both ends. It’s like he aims.

Namjoon snorts. He hasn’t been hit once.

Checking your watch again, you push the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth, chewing it while you grab the chart. Namjoon is already on his way to greet another patient and their owner, and you take a second to swallow and wipe any crumbs off your scrubs before you follow his lead, heading into the waiting area.

“Millie?” you call, smiling when a young woman rises from a chair, her red dachshund's nose practically glued to the clinic floor.

It’s two-thirty when you pull out of the clinic parking lot, the clinic’s old station wagon rattling faintly as you steer onto the main road. The address in the confirmation email is farther out than you expected but still technically within the town limits, and you watch the short apartment buildings give way to larger, more spaced-out houses as you drive.

You don’t often find yourself in this part of town these days, although you’re very familiar with at least one house here. Many Halloweens were spent here back in the day, kids dressed up as various creatures daring each other to fight through the overgrown lawn and peek inside the dark windows. Countless stories were told about the abandoned house, each one slightly more insane than the last. Of course, you were like… eight, and a large, seemingly empty white house with a big, black gable was doomed to be haunted.

Still, you’re very surprised when you stop at the red pin on your phone’s screen, and it’s outside that very house. Momo, who works the reception, must’ve forgotten to fill out the pet owner’s name on the confirmation form she sent you, so all you have is this address and a brief line of patient info.

Even though the sky is gray—fittingly enough threatening September rain—it’s not as scary as you remember. Probably because it’s not a dark Halloween night, and you’re not a kid anymore. It also doesn’t actually seem to be abandoned. To be fair, it was never really run-down aside from the lawn, but now there’s a big black SUV parked outside. 

Getting out of the car, you grab the rectangular veterinary kit bag, accidentally shutting the trunk a little too hard. The sound echoes down the quiet street, letting anyone who wasn’t already aware know of your arrival. A chilly breeze has you pulling your softshell jacket tighter over your light blue scrubs as you lock the car. When you turn back to the house, you pause to take it in once more. It’s a pretty house—two-story, painted white probably a long time ago but still holding up surprisingly well. Black shutters frame the dark windows, and the tall, black gabled roof reaches impressively toward the gray sky. The lawn has either been trimmed within the last few years, or your childhood imagination really exaggerated it because you can clearly recall it looking more like a thicket with tall grass than just… an overgrown lawn. You distinctly remember more... shrubs.

Climbing the shallow steps, you stop in front of the black-painted door and raise your hand to knock. As you wait, you tilt your head back, once again letting your gaze linger on the house. Who exactly are you here to meet? Maybe it’s some introverted old woman who rarely leaves her house? Or a grumpy old man? But then again, the SUV looked awfully modern. Maybe the ancient resident has a grandchild visiting?

A short moment later, the door opens with a slight creak.

It’s not an old lady; it’s a young man. A tall young man—probably the most attractive one you’ve ever seen—looking down at you. He’s broad-shouldered and lean, visibly fit even despite the thick, black hoodie and baggy jeans he wears. You try not to stare at the shadow created in the fabric between his pecs, or the way the oversized hoodie still somehow manages to cling to the top of his bicep as he keeps one hand on the door handle. His black, relatively straight hair doesn’t look styled, just like it naturally falls into its part, the sides of it a little shorter than the top. Everything about him screams effortless, like he just wakes up looking like that.

One thing’s for sure: he wasn’t who you expected to open the door.

“Uh, hi,” you introduce yourself, telling him your name, “Did you… call for a vet?”

For some reason, he looks almost as surprised as you. “Hey. I did, yeah. I’m Jeongguk.”

Though he smiles politely, he doesn’t offer his hand for you to shake. It’s not something you dwell on. Quite a few of the pet owners you meet prefer not to shake hands.

“Come in.”

You nod and step inside, having to almost squeeze past him in the narrow hallway as he shuts the door behind you. Like always when you enter a strange man’s home alone, you say a little prayer in your head. If it came to it, you’ve got a bunch of pointy things in your bag, but you’d still prefer it if he wasn’t crazy to begin with.

As you move past him, you’re almost surprised that you don’t… smell him. Men—at least in this town—are very fond of their colognes and sprays, but you don’t catch even the slightest whiff of him. You wouldn’t say that you particularly enjoy the strong… scents, but the total lack of one from a hunk like this is almost disappointing.

When you go to slip your shoes off, he stops you. 

“Keep them on,” he says, voice kept low due to the distance. Or rather, the lack thereof. “It’s… not very clean.” 

There’s something in the casual smile he gives you besides an attractiveness you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s a tad of… sheepishness? It doesn’t matter; your skin still heats under his gaze

“Oh, okay,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and professional while waiting for him to take the lead. Luckily, you don’t think he notices.

Even with the heads-up, you’re not sure what surprises you more as you follow him into the house—the layers and layers of dust, or the Edwardian, neoclassical interior design. The faded, beige walls are paneled, and as he leads you toward a staircase, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be the living room through an open archway. In it, you spot a pale green velvet sofa and two upholstered armchairs, fitting right in. There’s also a rectangular fireplace, a gold-framed mirror above it, and what catches your interest the most: a chandelier. Its size is impressive, and so is the fact that it looks like it was made for real, live candles. The same goes for the brass wall sconces placed on either side of the fireplace. You’ve only ever seen those in movies.

“They’re up here,” he says, and you nod, reaching for the wooden railing as you follow him up the stairs.

The steps creak loudly beneath your weight—another reminder of just how old this house probably is. At the landing, he turns, leading you to a bedroom. It’s surprisingly small for a house this size, but it’s cozy and warm in a way you weren’t expecting. You guess the clouds outside have eased up a little because the smallest ray of sunlight filters through the practically sheer beige curtains and highlights the dust particles floating in the air.

The four-poster bed is made from dark wood, its canopy rails bare and the headboard curled softly. Like most things, the white sheets appear pretty much untouched, and the only real signs of life are the footsteps disturbing the dust on the floor. You've followed a path all the way from the door, and when you look closer, you see paw prints venturing outside it.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck.

“I haven’t been here in a while.”

You figured. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since… the late 1800s. Although it’s certainly a stylistic choice—and one you wouldn’t have expected from someone so young and otherwise modern-looking—it has its charm. Even if you’re not sure there’s even electricity or running water.

“I arrived earlier today and found them here,” Jeongguk continues, approaching a standalone wooden wardrobe placed against the wall. One door is already slightly ajar, but when he carefully opens it wider, you see them. The cat with kittens. “I read that you’re not supposed to move them.”

The mother cat, who looks to be all black, has made a little nest on top of a crisp white shirt that’s fallen from its hanger above.

“Oh,” you breathe, crouching slowly to get a better look. “They’re brand new.”

“Yeah. And I think one is smaller than the others.”

Your eyes travel over the small beings, each with varying patches of white to go with the black. None of them, from what you can tell, have even opened their eyes yet. The mother cat stops licking one of the kittens to give you a warning hiss. You listen, rising to your feet and turning away, a plan already in mind.

“Okay, I brought some food that might help lure her out,” you say, setting the bag down on the floor and crouching to reach into it. “This stuff’s usually pretty irresistible…”

But when you look back at the man—a jar gripped in your hand—he’s already holding the mother cat. Just straight around her middle, as if he’s never held a cat before. She doesn’t seem to mind very much, just hangs there, looking around.

Jeongguk looks at you, a little surprised too.

“Oh, okay. She seems to like you better,” you smile. You can’t help but think that he looks… sweet. A big, clearly very muscular and attractive man who’s liked by animals? It’s definitely both a green flag and a personal weakness for you.

The food goes back into the bag, and you reach for the equipment you’ll need instead. With a stethoscope around your neck, a small kitchen scale, and a thermometer, you kneel in front of the wardrobe. In the meantime, Jeongguk sits down on the bed, the cat perched on his lap. He keeps his large hands around her, gently keeping her in place in case she changes her mind.

Very gently, you reach for the smallest kitten first. It squirms in your hands, mouth open and paws sticking out in a silent protest. 

“Sex is notoriously tricky to tell on kittens, especially this small, so I’m not even gonna try,” you say with a smile, giving the kitten a general once-over before focusing on its face. It’s a sweet little thing, crying a little as you inspect it. This one is mostly black but with two white front paws.

“Well, I’d definitely say they’re only a day or two old. This one has a suckle reflex but hasn’t opened its eyes yet. That usually happens between day five and fourteen. The umbilical stump is still attached too, and that usually falls off around day two to four.”

“So that’s… good?” Jeongguk asks, and when you look at him, the mother cat is bumping her head against his abdomen. He peers down at her on his lap, extending his veiny hand in a wordless offer. She accepts it, rubbing her head against his palm and letting him pet her.

“Yeah. That’s normal.”

You return your focus to the little being in your hands, carefully looking into its mouth again to check its gums and palate. 

“Pink gums and no cleft. That’s good, too.”

With one hand, you grab the stethoscope from your neck, putting the earpieces in place. Getting a clear heart or lung reading on kittens this tiny isn’t easy. Their heart rate is fast, making it easy to miss abnormalities, and their small, wriggling bodies make it hard to even position the chestpiece properly in the first place.

Focusing, you hold the kitten still, placing the stethoscope on the left side of its chest just behind the elbow. Then you listen closely, trying to ignore the soft purring from the adult cat.

It sounds… good. Alright, at least. Shifting the stethoscope slightly, you first listen to one lung and then the other. You don’t notice anything abnormal there, either.

“Heart and lungs sound okay,” you declare, slipping the stethoscope back around your neck.

“What’s next?”

“Temperature,” you answer, reaching for the digital thermometer.

“What should their temperature be?”

“Somewhere between thirty-six and thirty-six point five degrees Celsius.”

“Isn’t that a little low? I mean, compared to a human?”

“Adult cats are more similar to humans, but kittens generally run a little colder,” you explain, focusing on getting the reading right. “They don’t have the ability to regulate their body temperature properly for the first couple of weeks.”

The thermometer beeps.

“Thirty-six point two,” you mumble. “So that’s within the range. A little low, but not necessarily dangerous.”

With one hand, you reach for the kitchen scale, setting it on the floor in front of you. It powers on, and once it’s ready, you place the kitten on it, keeping your hand floating above in case the little animal tries to wiggle off the tray.

The number settles, and you read it out loud. “Eighty-one grams.”

“Too small?” Jeongguk wonders.

“On the lower side, but not dangerously so. At least not yet.”

You take the kitten and carefully place it back in the makeshift nest for the moment. Before reaching for another kitten to examine in the same way, you grab a small notebook in your bag, quickly jotting down the numbers so you don’t forget them.

Jeongguk looks on as you inspect the rest of the four kittens, occasionally asking another question. It’s not unusual for pet owners to ask questions, but considering these aren’t even his cats—and from what you gathered, he only found them today—it makes your chest warm. Not everyone would go to such lengths for stray cats. It also doesn’t help your growing soft spot that you get to talk about animals and their anatomy to someone who seems to want to listen. After all, you’re a bit of a nerd, and this is your number one fascination.

One by one, the kittens get their clean bill of health and are placed back on the shirt, and then you shift your focus to their mother. She’s standing on Jeongguk’s lap, still headbutting his chest. While she’s preoccupied, you quietly reach into your bag for the microchip scanner, but the moment you try to get close, she notices and hisses. 

“Give it a try, please?” You hold the scanner out to Jeongguk, keeping as much distance as you can. “Press this button and move the scanner over her, focusing on her neck and back.”

Jeongguk takes the scanner from your outreached hand, doing as you instructed and pressing the button. It beeps, and he begins to move it over her.

“Like this?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed almost angrily as he focuses.

You nod encouragingly. “Yeah.”

“Is it to see if she has an owner?”

“Yes. But sometimes, even if they are microchipped, there's not a registered owner. But we can hope.”

He continues to search for a chip, but when nothing happens, he looks at you with those dark eyes, silently asking what to do.

“Try her belly and even her legs. Sometimes, they migrate.”

Adjusting his grip on the scanner, he moves it lower.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he says a moment later, handing the scanner back to you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking it to put it back in the bag. Although disappointed, you’re not surprised. “Would you mind helping me check her out? She seems to really like you. A whole lot better than she likes me, at least.”

He matches the soft smile you give him. “Sure.”

“Okay, well, she seems to be in okay condition, but I need to rule out any birth-related injuries. 

“What do I do?” he asks, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, the cat still happy to receive his attention. 

“Just… hold her like that… Yes, exactly. And with your other hand, move her tail away for me?”

A little awkwardly, he follows your instructions again, and while you don’t think the cat particularly enjoys it, she doesn’t fight it. You move closer, trying to get a better look while doing your best not to stare at his veiny hands instead. In any other setting, they’d be way too much of a distraction, but knowing that this cat depends on you to evaluate her health, you divert your gaze.

“Alright… I don’t see anything... unusual, no swelling, no blood, no discharge. If she were injured, you’d usually spot it, but she’s not thrilled with me, so I won’t push it,” you chuckle, leaning back.

Having animals dislike you is unfortunately part of the job. Sometimes, it hurts your heart a little, but when you remember that it’s easy for an animal to associate the scrubs or equipment with something unpleasant and maybe even painful, it makes more sense. Briefly, you wonder if this cat has ever been to a vet or if her dislike for you stems from something else. It’s definitely normal for new mothers to have a bit of an attitude, but you’d think that would include every human in the room. Or maybe she doesn’t dislike you in particular; maybe she just really likes Jeongguk. Which... you know, fair.

Almost as if sensing that the examination is over, the black cat jumps down from Jeongguk’s lap, leaping past you to get to her babies. 

“Alright,” you say, wiping your hands on your pants before you stand up. “It’s important not to disturb them too much, but they’ll still need some supervision—especially the small one—just to make sure they continue to eat and grow. And they’ll need a better place to nest, somewhere a little warmer, softer, and less… dusty. No offense.”

Jeongguk chuckles, standing up as well and brushing some cat hairs from his hoodie. “None taken.”

“So, if you want me to, I can take them with me. We have a foster program and a few great volunteers.”

Jeongguk looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion this time. “I thought they were too small to be moved?”

“Yeah,” you nod, bending down to quickly gather the rest of the used equipment and put it back in the bag. “Ideally, they wouldn’t need to be. But I understand if you can’t or don't want to look after a stray cat and her kittens.”

“No, it’s… uh… It’s fine,” he says, appearing to land in a decision and sticking by it, his eyes traveling to the little bodies nestled into the white shirt. “It’s not that hard, right? Just keep an eye on them? If you think I can do it, of course. I already have a litter box.”

You blink, a little surprised. “You just happened to have a litter box?”

“No, I asked some neighbors after I called you. I figured you'd have some tips about the other stuff. Like food and such.”

Your smile grows as you watch him. He is… oddly endearing. “Yeah. Of course,” you say, your voice softening. The fewer cats and kitten taking up the very limited space at the volunteers', the better. “Okay.”

You begin drafting an email to send to him. It includes everything you've talked about plus cat food recommendations for the mother cat and a link to a cat bed that’s cheap but comfortable enough for a nursing litter. While you write, you talk him through everything again, like what to watch for, when to weigh them, and what to do if anything seems off.

He asks a few questions, making it very clear—if it wasn’t already—that he doesn’t really have any experience with animals. While he’s never appeared scared or nervous during your visit, you can tell that he’s not quite sure what to do. He moves slowly, almost a little awkwardly around the cats, but it’s more like he doesn’t want to scare them.

“You really like animals,” he points out, watching you tuck your notebook back into the bag.

You glance up at him. His tone isn’t mocking but more... curious. Still, you nod, a little self-conscious of how nerdy you can be.

“Yeah, animals are incredible. Not only because they’re such good companions—some of them at least—but, they’re so fascinating? How they function and how they’ve evolved.”

But there’s something else in his curious gaze that you finally pick up on, and it dawns on you.

“You think I’m a freak too, don’t you?” you say with a smile, pulling the stethoscope you’d forgotten to pack from around your neck and tucking it into the bag as well.

“No, no,” he shakes his head.

You lift an eyebrow. “But you know about it? My paper?”

His eyes are so dark. “Yeah…”

You look away, trying not to let it affect your professionalism. Speaking about it brings up memories you’d rather not be reminded of. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here in forever?”

It’s weird, right? If he doesn’t live here and hasn’t been around in a long time, how would he know the gossip?

“Town called a few years ago. About the electrical wiring needing to be upgraded. So I came here to fix it.”

Oh. That makes sense, you guess. A few years ago was when it first happened. That’s probably also why the yard looked different from what you remembered.

“And you heard about it?”

He smiles apologetically. “Yeah. It’s a small town, I guess.”

“It’s not like I think Ariel is real. Or that dragons roam the sky or that Dracula lives in a dark castle somewhere, wearing a black cape over a white, frilly shirt,” you defend, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “I just wrote about how much we don’t actually know about the living organisms around us and how some of the 'supernatural' traits aren't really that crazy, anatomically speaking.”

“No, I get that,” he assures, sounding like he genuinely didn’t mean to upset you. “I found it very interesting.”

“So is that why you looked so surprised to see me? Because you recognized me?”

“No. Or… well, yeah. I spoke to the receptionist, and she told me a man’s name—Namjoon, I think—would come.”

“Oh.”

“But I did also vaguely recognize you, I think. From the image.”

Lifting your wrist, you glance at the watch. “I should start to head back. Lock the clinic up.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jeongguk says, and when you meet his dark eyes again, he looks genuine. “I don’t think you’re a freak, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” you say, offering him a quick smile. “I’m not supposed to be out this long anyway. I have to get back and finish up the bill. I’ll email it to you along with the advice, is that okay?”

He nods, clearly accepting that he did in fact upset you to some degree. “Okay. Thank you for the help.”

You smile again, relaxing your shoulders and taking a deep breath. Maybe you should cut him some slack. Technically, he wasn’t even the one to bring your paper up; that was all you. And besides very, very handsome, you haven’t once thought of him as anything other than sweet.

"No problem."

The drive back to the clinic is quiet. You don’t even turn the prehistoric radio on. It doesn’t matter because your thoughts are loud enough anyway, circling back to one thing. One thing and one person.

The paper you wrote in vet school was a mistake. Not that it was bad per se—it was a perfectly science-based paper, focused on the more unusual biological traits found in the animal kingdom. 

Unfortunately, you made the grave mistake of connecting some of those traits to various mythical creatures and their ‘unbelievable’ biology. Some of your peers—predominantly men—found it absolutely ridiculous and teased you for it. The more you tried to defend yourself, the funnier they thought it was.

You’d think it at least would’ve stayed within whatever small circle vet med is, but when your small town happens to be known specifically for the vet med program, a surprisingly large chunk of the population has some connection to it. You’re lucky that not many wish to stay in town after graduating, or you would’ve been last on the list to get a job. You still remember your current boss’s inspecting eyes as she interviewed you, trying to make sure you weren’t actually batshit crazy. That was maybe five or so years ago, and you haven’t really had to think about the paper in probably at least a year. 

Until today. Again, it wasn’t Jeongguk’s fault, you don’t think he even meant for it to be brought up. It still caught you off guard, though, because even if you don’t know him, he didn’t give off the same vibe as the people who laughed at you. And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. About his build, and how the oversized clothes hung off his strong, muscular body. Or his large, veiny hands as he gently pet the mother cat. His dark eyes, sharp jaw, and strong eyebrows. Even his nose—with its straight bridge and softly rounded tip, creating such a striking, masculine profile—had a way of completely mesmerizing you.

Not only is he probably the most attractive man you’ve seen in a long time—maybe ever, but he seemed… warm. You wouldn’t expect a man like him to care for a stray cat and her newborn kittens, much less call a vet out to help, but he did.

Back at the clinic, you take a seat in front of the desktop computer, typing your notes into the chart and updating the bill. Besides the obviously tragic parts of dealing with sick and injured animals, the worst part is probably billing the owners. You need money to live just like everyone else, but you’ll always feel wrong charging worried owners to care for their family members. Even now, as you’re adding the services to… Jeon Jeongguk’s bill, you think about how the cats don’t even belong to him.

The cursor hovers over his name. Who is he? How did he come to be the owner of that house, and why own it if he’s not living there or at least visiting regularly? Why bother even fixing the electrical wiring if it’s just gonna stay empty? And just how long had it been empty?

The questions whirl in your head. Though it’s not really any of your business why he returned, maybe you could’ve at least asked him where he’s from? It would’ve been acceptable small talk, right? Could you also have asked why he felt the need to take care of the cats, even when you offered to take them off his hands, or would that have been rude? 

Realizing that you’re not getting anywhere, you bill him for a standard home visit of half an hour—even though you stayed closer to one—and for the gas just so you don’t lose money on the visit. You don’t add the same day fee or charge him for the used materials.

<previous | next>

author's note: i hope you liked it and are excited for the rest because i think it's gonna be good!!! i also had some moodboard pics of the house made so let me know if you'd like to see them <3

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

I don't know whether you write poly relationships or not, but imagine Mydei and Phainon completing who will get their wife pregnant first.

୨୧ ．warnings : nsfw/smut, creampie (vaginal & anal), threesome, biting, sex toys, bondage, phaidei themes, crying, biting, gagging, chocking, hair pulling, pet-names (pretty, etc.) and other stuff !

୨୧ ．note : not proofread & i dunno if this is ooc. banner art is a doujinshi and you can find it on X from : sakuranotomoru !!

Your body trembled between them, heat prickling your skin as Mydei’s rough hands gripped your waist while Phainon’s fingers tangled in your hair. They weren’t fighting with swords, but the way they pressed against you—cocks hard and aching, grinding possessively against your thighs—felt just as intense.

“She’s mine first,” Mydei growled, his sharp teeth scraping against your shoulder. His grip tightened, as if he could claim you by force alone. “I’m the one who gets to fill her up.”

Phainon scoffed, his breath hot against your ear. “You think she belongs to you?” His voice was smooth, taunting, but his movements were anything but patient—he shoved Mydei’s hand aside, yanking your hips against his own, his cock throbbing against your soaked cunt. “I should breed her first. She’s already dripping for me.”

You whimpered, caught between them, their bodies pressing against you, heat and strength overwhelming your senses. Your mind was hazy, dumb from the way they touched you, from the way they were so desperate to claim you first.

“Say it, pretty,” Mydei murmured, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. His golden eyes were filled with hunger. “Tell him who you want filling you up first.”

Phainon’s fingers traced over your slit, teasing, taunting. “Choose wisely,” he whispered, a smirk curling his lips. “Or maybe we’ll just have to see who fucks it out of you first.”

Your body shuddered, pleasure coursing through you as their cocks twitched, pressing against your entrance. They weren’t going to stop. They were going to fuck their answer out of you.

The heat between them was suffocating, your body trembling as their hands explored every inch of you. Mydei’s grip was firm, fingers digging into your hips possessively, while Phainon tangled his hand in your hair, yanking your head back with a sharp tug. The pain mixed with pleasure sent a shiver down your spine, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips.

“She sounds so fucking sweet like this,” Phainon muttered, tilting his head as he watched you struggle in his grasp. “All dumb and desperate already.” His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers teasing over your clit, making you jolt. “Who do you think will ruin her first?”

“She’s not going anywhere until she’s dripping with our cum,” Mydei said darkly, his hands slipping up to grope your tits, thumbs flicking over your soft nipples. “If she can even take it.”

Phainon smiled goofily. “Oh, she’ll take it. She doesn’t have a choice.”

Before you could whine, Phainon forced something between your lips—a gag, tight and firm, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your throat. Your eyes widened, wrists tugging instinctively against the restraints that now bound them above your head.

Mydei chuckled, his sharp nails dragging along your thighs. “She’s already drooling. Cute.” He pressed a kiss to your exposed neck before biting down, hard enough to leave a mark. “I wonder how much she can take before she goes completely dumb.”

Phainon leaned closer, his lips grazing against Mydei’s in a fleeting touch, teasing. “We’ll find out.”

His fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin as Mydei spread your legs wider, positioning himself between them. Your muffled cries only made them more eager—tonight, they weren’t just going to claim you. They were going to break you.

Your body trembled, wrists bound tight above your head as Phainon’s fingers squeezed around your throat. The gag in your mouth muffled your whimpers, drool slipping past your lips as Mydei’s hands forced your legs apart.

“F-Fuck—please,” you tried to speak, but it came out garbled around the gag. Your eyes were glossy, mind spinning from the lack of control—exactly how they wanted you.

“She’s so needy already.” Mydei smirked, dragging his cock along your soaked slit, teasing you with every slow grind. “Wonder how much she can take before she completely falls apart.”

“She’ll take everything we give her,” Phainon murmured, voice dark, dangerous. He leaned closer to Mydei, their bodies pressing together against yours, and his lips brushed against the other’s jaw. “But don’t pretend you’re patient either.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, golden eyes flickering with something more than just lust. His grip on your thighs tightened, but his attention momentarily shifted to Phainon. “Jealous?” he taunted.

Phainon smirked, his hand slid down, fingers wrapping around Mydei’s cock, stroking him slow, teasing. Mydei sucked in a breath, his hips twitching, his hold on you faltering just for a second.

You moaned against the gag, watching them, your core clenching with need. The sight of them so close, so hungry for each other, only made your body ache more.

“Look at her,” Mydei groaned, his cock throbbing against Phainon’s grip. “She loves watching us.”

Phainon chuckled, pressing a heated kiss against Mydei’s lips, their tongues tangling in a messy, desperate clash. You squirmed, whining, your body on fire from the sight, from the feeling of being trapped between them.

“She’s ours,” Phainon murmured against Mydei’s lips, his fingers tightening in your hair, pulling hard enough to make you whimper. “And we’re gonna fucking ruin her.”

Mydei groaned, rutting against you, his cock teasing your entrance. “Together.”

And then, finally, they gave you exactly what you wanted.

Phainon’s touch was deceptively soft, fingers stroking along your cheek as you whimpered against the gag. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he took in the sight of you—bound, drooling, completely at their mercy.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Are we being too mean to you?” His hand drifted lower, skimming over your tits, rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers. “I can feel you shaking, you know. Are you that desperate?”

You let out a muffled sob, nodding frantically. Your body was burning with need, slick dripping down your thighs as Mydei pressed the thick head of his cock against your entrance, teasing, never quite giving you what you needed.

“She’s always like this,” Mydei muttered, voice rough with impatience. His grip on your hips was bruising, thumbs pressing into your soft skin. “She wants it so bad, but she’s too dumb to say it properly.”

Phainon hummed, tilting his head as he considered your pitiful state. “Well, we did gag her,” he pointed out with a chuckle. “Can’t expect her to beg properly like this.” His fingers slipped between your legs, dipping into your soaked cunt, feeling just how desperately your body craved them. “Oh, my,” he sighed, teasingly slow. “You’re practically pulling me in.”

You moaned at the feeling, hips jerking against his hand, trying to get more—but Mydei’s grip was firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted. “Don’t give her what she wants so easily,” he growled.

Phainon only smiled, pressing a soft kiss against Mydei’s jaw. “And here I thought you liked it when she cried for it.”

Mydei let out a low groan, his cock twitching against you. He was losing patience. His golden eyes flicked down to where you were spread open beneath him, trembling, desperate. “I’m fucking her first,” he muttered.

Phainon chuckled, amused by Mydei’s possessiveness, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss against your forehead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll take care of you after he’s done breaking you.”

And then, with a sharp thrust, Mydei buried himself inside you. The stretch burned, pleasure and pain melting together as you screamed against the gag, your body struggling to take all of him at once.

“There we go,” Mydei groaned, his hands pinning your hips down as he bottomed out. “So fucking tight.”

Phainon kissed your temple again, his fingers wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to choke, just enough to keep you grounded. “That’s it, love,” he whispered, watching your eyes roll back as Mydei started to move. “Take everything we give you.”

Mydei was relentless, his thrusts deep and brutal as he fucked you into the mattress. His grip on your hips was firm, bruising, making sure you took every inch of him. You could do nothing but sob against the gag, body overstimulated, your wrists tugging weakly against the restraints above your head.

Phainon, ever the contrast to Mydei’s raw intensity, was gentle in comparison. His fingers trailed soothingly over your face, tucking damp strands of hair behind your ear as he watched you with amused, violet eyes.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. “But I wonder, can you take more?”

Your breath hitched, a whimper escaping against the gag as Mydei groaned above you. “Of course, she can,” he growled. “She’s our perfect girl, aren’t you?”

“Nghh—yes ‘m your goood girllll…” You nodded frantically, mind too far gone to process anything but the need to be completely filled.

Phainon chuckled softly. “Such a good girl.” His hands smoothed down your back before parting your ass, his fingers teasing over your untouched hole. “You’ll let me have this, too, won’t you?”

The realization sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, your body twitching at the thought of being stretched even further.

“Look at her,” Mydei grunted, his thrusts slowing as he glanced at where Phainon’s fingers played with your hole. “She fucking likes it.”

“She’s just greedy,” Phainon teased, pressing a single finger inside. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, and he cooed. “Oh, sweetheart. So tight.”

He took his time preparing you, stretching you carefully despite Mydei’s impatience. His fingers moved slow, teasing, pressing against that sensitive spot until you were arching into him, drool slipping past the gag.

“Enough teasing,” Mydei growled. “Get in there.”

Phainon only smiled. “Patience.” But his own cock twitched, aching, and soon enough, he was positioning himself at your entrance, the blunt head pressing against your tight hole.

You gasped as he pushed in, the stretch unbearable at first, the pressure making you tremble between them. Mydei groaned, feeling the way you clenched even tighter around him.

“Oh, love,” Phainon sighed, voice still so sweet despite the filth of the moment. “You’re taking us so well.”

You were completely full—stuffed to the brim, their cocks stretching you beyond what you thought possible. Tears slipped down your cheeks, but the pleasure overwhelmed everything else.

“Fuck,” Mydei cursed, his hips snapping forward. “She’s perfect like this.”

Phainon chuckled, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat, tilting your head so he could watch the way your eyes fluttered. “She’s ours,” he murmured. “And we’re never letting her go.”

Then, together, they fucked you.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[burymagdalene]

Take What You Need - S. Reid x Reader

After going full hermit mode during finals, you reach out to your relatively new boyfriend for a textbook he might be storing in his apartment. Or, Spencer putting you through his mattress for the first time as finals stress relief.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut! Fluff? (18+ pls pls) tags: Softdom!Spencer, sub reader (bet you thought you'd never see the day I did this), pet names in Russian, finger sucking, fingering (fem!receiving), established (new) relationship, your first time together, praise kink, pinv sex, creampie, teasing!!! overstimulation. wc: 6k a/n: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY! Writing this during my finals felt like method acting. I imagine many of you are just now finishing or in the throes of finals- here's a treat!

Your head is hurting in places that you don’t even think have been identified in the anatomy of the brain while you continue to type away at your final essay. 

You had thought you’d given yourself ample time to begin and finish the essay without any stress-induced cramming. Yet, here you are, halfway through with the deadline a couple days away.

Phone on do not disturb and your social life coming to a screeching halt– you have forced yourself to go awol in order to get everything you need done.

Which worked. For a bit.

Now, you’re panicking over a Russian literature textbook you didn’t even know was on the syllabus that you’re supposed to reference in your final. 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

The first time you left your apartment in the last 48 hours was to check your university library for it– no dice. You drove to your local library after, out of luck there as well. Who on earth is using the 9th edition Russian and Comparative Literature text you need so horribly? They do not need it as much as you do.

Dejected and sighing from your pounding headache, you rest your forehead against your steering wheel, the sun is going down on another day without finishing your paper. Then it hits you. The biggest distraction in your life, is also the smartest person in your life. If the library doesn’t carry what you need, you might just have to put your pride aside and call Spencer.

You had promised yourself to use him as a form of reward once you completed everything, but you just have to ask him now. You can’t possibly get too distracted. 

One of your rings sounds off in your car before he’s picking up.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. How’s the studying?”

Even through the tinny speaker of your phone his voice releases butterflies in your stomach.

“Spencer! Hey. Umm. It’s not going very well, actually...”

“Oh hon,” his voice drips with remorse from the other line, “I told you how breaks would make it all go more smoothly than whatever guerilla method you decided on.”

You smile to yourself briefly, before a surge of emotion comes over you. Of course, he was right. Your stomach is growling, head aching and going stir crazy in your apartment these last couple of days has not turned out to be the picture perfect portrayal of self-care.

In a small voice you reply, “I know. I’m sorry. I just- I was wondering if you had a textbook I need for my final. Russian and Comparative Lit? Or something adjacent?”

“Hm? Oh, please don’t say you’re sorry. I honestly might. Would you like to come over and look with me?”

Your fingers come up nervously to play with your bottom lip, “Yeah, please, if it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all, Zayka.”

Whatever it is, he says it smug enough that you roll your eyes, starting your car back up to finally get to the next step in finishing your paper.

Of sorts.

Like some heightened form of sensory deprivation, once you’re stepping up the staircase to get to Spencer’s unit, you can smell his scent from the bottom of the steps. The aged leather on his clothes and hand soap he uses that clings to him all day circling around your dizzy head as you give one, two knocks at his door.

His slight stubble and loosened tie catch your eye first. You want to run a hand where the sliver of his collar bone is revealed. 

You give him a shy smile instead, Spencer pulling you into a hug in his doorway with a kiss on top of your head where he speaks against it, “I missed you. Come in, come in.”

Sighing as he pulls away you beeline towards his bookshelf. Seeing it’s a stack of differing Russian texts on the floor he must’ve pulled out on your drive over.

“Oh, Spencer, thank you. Even if it’s not here, I seriously owe you one.”

He gestures his hand in an oh stop motion and walks over to where you’re reading the spine of each ridiculously long book.

“You don’t owe me anything. Happy to help. You’ve been pretty stressed out, huh?”

This pauses your flicking through titles like a cue in your system to spill out every detail you haven’t shared in the last couple days.

A deep sigh, then, “Yeah. It’s been really tough. I thought I’d be able to crank everything out, but. I just feel so burnt out. And the library by me is always so busy that I have to study at home, and my room is a mess and I haven’t bought any groceries, I just. I feel horrible. I have this headache,” you rub your face with your hands, “I’ve been getting no sleep and my body does not know how to handle this anxiety, it’s… it like, physically hurts.”

You’re on your knees by his coffee table and before you’re finishing your onslaught of complaints Spencer is sinking to his knees beside you.

“Oh, honey. That sounds miserable. You’ve drained yourself.” His hand comes to your lower back to rub at soothingly. “You need to regulate your nervous system. Let me feed you or-”

“This is it!”

You cannot believe your eyes. A perfect condition of the exact textbook you need to finish your paper. You owe Spencer all the stars in the sky, that big beautiful brain of his. Leaning over, you peck his lips swiftly. Which was your first mistake. You always need another.

“Mm,” he hums, “I’m glad. However, I do think you should embark on whatever journey reading through this will take you tomorrow.”

“What? But I’m so close,” another kiss is being pressed to his soft lips, “I just. I just need to-”

The way he’s looking at you. The pressure of his kiss lingering on your overactive mouth. The warm light of the lamp coming from his bedroom. You know if you keep pressing, you actually are going to have to leave, Spencer not being the type to force you in any capacity. 

You have to shut your mouth.

Spencer pulls your hand into his, lifts up to press a kiss to your knuckles, “Well. If you got everything you need…”

A panic-inducing sentence. 

“I d-didn’t.”

“Oh? Is there something else-”

“I, um. What did you say earlier? On the phone, in Russian. I… was wondering, actually.”

His lips pull into a genuine smile, one that makes you ache. You missed it so much. 

“Ever so curious. It just means bunny, it’s a common nickname. Could also translate to baby.”

Embarrassment heats up your neck. 

“I’m not even! I’d argue I’m more of a cat than anything else.”

“Hm. Kotik. I’d disagree though. I could practically hear the scrunch in your nose when you called me.”

“Ugh! Whatever. What does that make you then?”

“Whatever you want.”

Is he doing this on purpose? Is he being extra impossibly irresistible because he’s trying to make you stay or because of your distance from him? Either way, you hold your breath. 

“I-if I’m a bunny you have to be one too, that only makes sense.”

“Of course. Cross-species breeding can get weird.”

He has to be doing this on purpose. You haven’t done it yet. But Spencer is no stranger to working you up. The pet names, the fucking insinuations. Spencer is nothing but careful with his words around you. He’s being a tease out of his own volition. 

Knees starting to get achy where they’re pressed into his hardwood, you shift a bit. Nothing more than a shift, but given the context, lets Spencer know exactly what’s keeping you chained to his apartment. 

“Um. I think I’ll stay.” you blurt nearing a socially awkward delivery as you break his eye contact.

“Oh thank God,” he laughs out through a sigh of relief, “I don’t think I could’ve morally let you go home.”

“I just think I deserve a little break.”

“Mhmm,” Spencer rubs your jaw lightly with his thumb, “you’ve been working so hard, you deserve more than a little break.”

“Yeah? What should my big break be? Travel somewhere warm… should we go to Mexico?”

“I’ll take you to Mexico. You look so exhausted I’d just about take you anywhere.”

You giggle and nuzzle your face into his shoulder. “How about your bedroom?”

Not even having to look up to see it, you can feel the way his eyes widen. Having made out with Spencer a fair share on his couch, more than playful sleepovers at your apartment, and even an instance where Spencer had fingered you under your skirt in the parking lot of an AMC (before turning around to drive back home, skipping the movie) you’ve built up enough confidence to tell him you’re ready to feel him this way now. 

“Wh- yeah. Yeah, course.”

With Spencer’s whole neuroses around germs and “outside clothes on the bed” you actually have not gotten the privilege of laying down in there. Sure, you’ve picked through his closet and rummaged through some bedside books, but nothing wrapped up in his silky white sheets.

Your knees feel wobbly as you stand up before Spencer, gazing softly down where he’s criss-cross on his floor. He smiles up at you softly, reaching his hand up to rub your hip with his thumb over your jeans.

“What should I do to help all that stress?” He trails off, if spoken by another person, this could seem like a bit of a sarcastic remark, but Spencer continues to live and breathe sincerity.

Laughing slightly you shrug, “Come up here first, please.”

Sluggishly, Spencer gets up on his feet, his hand remaining on your hip now that he’s face to face with you. 

After kissing you gently he rubs his nose softly against yours, “I could give you a massage- you know stimulating the parasympathetic nervous system will help your cortisol levels a lot. You also just seem tense, sitting a lot in front of your laptop?”

“I mean,” you laugh and kiss him while pausing your sentence, “I’d like that. But. I want you in a different way. More than that... ahem, in your room.”

“I kind of just wanted to hear you say it.”

Once Spencer was able to pry his hands from your waist and lips from your mouth (with difficulty, he really missed you) he takes your hand into his to walk to his bedroom.

Of course you’ve been in here before, but right now every detail in his room; every book on a desk, every folded line in his bedding seem to have a shining glow around them. Through rose-tinted glasses Spencer's belongings cast an easy feeling over you. 

Being led to the bed you’ve never been in doesn’t incite any fear because you’re so familiar with the surroundings. Already in-tune with him and how he’s so particular about the things he owns, proves just how encapsulated by all-things-Spencer you are right now, completely safe and in your element. 

Warm hands bring your arms around his broad shoulders, kissing you against his bedframe. The cool carved wood pressing indents into the back of your thighs as you allow your full body weight against it. 

In your school-induced mania, you’d nearly forgotten how obsessed you are with kissing Spencer. His pillowy lips against yours, tasting him. He’d nearly get irritated at you for kissing him too hard in public. Now, after locking yourself away you're savoring how his tongue skims your bottom lip as he’s asking for access into your mouth. 

You whine and pinch your eyebrows together when he slightly pulls away to talk, “Darling, you’re so lovely, so beautiful,”

Pouting, you pull him back in by his collar. Before, you had been so adamant about focusing on your work and now you’re falling fast into the mess of hormones he typically makes of you. A total 180 in the past hour.

Allowing yourself to give into what has been simmering the last few days has you jittery and clumsy. Tightening and loosening your grip on Spencer’s shirt you’re tugging him closer and pushing him away when the whining from your throat becomes too embarrassing. Desperate and determined.

Your open-mouthed whining is coming from an understandable place though. Mouths melding together and a taught thigh wedged between your legs, you’re losing yourself in the way he tastes. 

Spearmint toothpaste that you both use on his breath. The shared taste you two have after you bought Spencer’s (out of a moment of weakness) when you happened to run out of your own while he was away on a case. A girlish, silly pining that now has your eyes rolling back as you taste yourself on him and consequentially, Spencer on you as well. 

Spencer curls your tongues together, grabs your hips flush against his and you whimper out a small final plea of a moan against his lips before he’s pulling away again.

“You’re being a little siren,” Spencer grins and places a kiss underneath your jaw where he knows you’re the most sensitive. 

“Sorry- was I? I missed you so much,” you trail off and kiss the warm skin of Spencer’s neck before he pulls you off him slightly.

Unabashedly staring directly at your bitten lips while replying, Spencer falls into an easy grin, “Don’t say sorry. How many times have I said I love your sounds?”

Shame creeps up in a gentle heat across the back of your neck, “Um. Too many!”

You get a simple tsk from Spencer in return. Not having the energy to argue with you over the shyness around moaning, he settles on a simple noise of disapproval.

Gently taking both of your wrists, he pulls you up from where you were propped against his bed frame and maneuvers you till the back of your knees are being tickled by his lush bedding. Maybe it's a tickle or just your skin's hyper awareness of what's to come.

Having tasted him earlier, there has been a discovered pining demand for Spencer you cannot keep at bay anymore. His sweet lips, a sugary glaze to the sour week you’ve had. Like the time you licked a dribble of honey off his finger when he was making you a cup of tea and you had to perch yourself on his lap for an hour kissing him senseless. You have no control over that dam inside you once broken. 

Cradling the back of your head while he guides you to his bed, you instinctively wrap your legs around his narrow hips, hoping to do anything in your power to keep his body weight on you for as long as humanly possible. 

“Babe- baby,” Spencer whines out, having to wiggle away from your grasp if any clothes were to be shed tonight, “let me undress you, please.”

Fine, you think, separating for that, should be livable.

Teasingly, Spencer rubs his hands up and down your waist, pulling your shirt up slowly as he massages into your skin. A wiggle in your hips has him smiling in acknowledgment but continues to toy with your top.

“You’re giving me goosebumps,” you pout.

“Good goosebumps?”

“Mmf. Yeah.” You turn to hide your face defiantly into his bedding.

“Always good goosebumps with you.” He smiles and pulls your shirt off, wiggling and arching your back, you help him even through your faux sulking.

Spencer’s sheets meet your bare skin (no bra, you couldn’t manage something so menial during your studying) and glide over your torso like a flat pebble skipping over a lake.

The seam of your jeans between your legs are pushing into your center as Spencer’s thigh remains pushing in small intervals while kissing over your chest. Approaching an overwhelming stimulation, your hips writhe as you grab silently at Spencer's tie. 

“T-take my pants off too, Spence, wanna feel you.”

“Aww,” he pulls up from your chest, “they look so good on you though.” He relents still, sitting on his knees as he fiddles with the band of your jeans.

A playful flicker in his eyes and he’s gently pulling up and down at it. You scrunch up your face, subconsciously aware of his bunny comment, and grab at his wrist. Only a small fuck falls from your lips.

“Mm, too much, huh? I’ll get them off of you, my love.”

Your hands reach up to tug off his barely knotted tie to fling it off while he slides the rough fabric down your legs, placing a kiss to a bruised knee on the way. Once your jeans are making a home on his floor he continues moving down further so he can take off your socks, kissing over the fabric of your panties.

You giggle a little, they’re not your sexiest, moreso cute; cotton with a little bow. 

“These are my lucky panties.” You explain through your laugh. 

“Yeah? Did you put them on in hopes they’d help you find your textbook?” His hands are holding the sides of your thighs now and he bends down to take the small bow between his teeth tugging up before letting it go in a snap against your belly.

“Mm-mm. I just decided that now.”

“From now on they’re your lucky underwear?” He looks up at you between your legs with a lopsided grin.

“Yup,” you pop out the “p” sound, “but you can still take them off even though they’re lucky.”

Spencer hums into a kiss against your inner thigh, “This is great news. May I?”

“Yes, you may.”

You can feel how wet you are by the slight resistance there is while peeling your panties off. Spencer hasn’t made you cum in quite some time, busy schedules and all. Now with finals, you can’t even remember the last time you got yourself off. The dripping into your panties reminding you of how long it must have been.

All that time not thinking about it is catching up to you as you feel more deprived than you have in your entire life.

“God- Spence. I want it… really bad.” These are the begging eyes you give him when you have to pull out your biggest trick in the books. When you’re making him drive you to the mall or begging to leave a hickey on his neck when he has to leave for work in thirty minutes.

Safe to say, they work pretty well.

“Baby, you can’t look at me like that,” he laughs, “I’m not in any mood to tease you.” His voice fills with a teasing tone anyway, the dirty liar. “You’ve been through enough already, huh?”

“Mhmm…” Your affirmation melts into a hum of pleasure as Spencer very gently runs his thumb over your entrance. With the coat of your slick on the pad of his thumb, Spencer brings it up to his mouth for a moment before sucking it off. You can’t help but shoot him a jealous look as your thighs close to rub together.

“Needy,” Spencer mumbles while pulling his thumb out, shifting up towards you so he can bring it to your lips. Sucking in happily, you bite down gently on his thumb, smiling around it as you hear a little groan coming his way. 

Thumb now covered in both of your saliva, he uses it as extra lubricant to rub circles over your already wet clit. Another reminder of how long its been hits you with how you already feel close. With just a few circles on your clit, you’re already clenching around nothing, hoping to be filled.

A squeak topples from your throat as Spencer switches his thumb to two fingers against you.

“Y-yeah, like that-”

Spencer is your boyfriend- he’s sweet and attentive and genuine. But he is also evil and horrible. He takes his hand away.

Your shocked gasp makes him laugh and move to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m mean. I’m sorry I’m sorry,” his laughter tickles your neck, “you’re so much fun to tease.”

You can barely hear him, not laughing along. Solely focused on wiggling under his weight, trying to gain any more friction on your clit.

No fight left in you, you want to politely take what Spencer gives you, but a slight panic fills your mind at the thought of having to wait much longer.

“Please- I’ll be good…”

“I know angel, you always are for me.”

Before the praise can affect you to its fullest potential, his fingers are returning against you. Three of his long perfect fingers dance across your clit as it thumps pathetically against them.

“Mmm! Shit, thank you, thank you-“ you babble softly. 

“Want them inside?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Really?”

“Really!” 

You’re not above this. Giving into every prompt easily as if you’re made for it. With all the planning and studying and working this week you have no issue with surrendering control over to someone else for a change.

Spencer flips his wrist so the inside is towards you and he’s positioning his ring and middle finger against you. You’ve never felt so spoiled, your clit is still throbbing painfully the second he removes his fingers to put them inside you, you never can get enough. 

The stretch of two fingers has you preening, accommodating his digits in a way that makes you so excited for the stretch of his cock soon.

“God, I missed this,” Spencer pants, “you’re so stunning, so warm.”

You allow the new wave of wetness to pool around his fingers with little to no guilt. If he says he likes it so much, what’s a little more?

He curls his fingers up and your jaw drops. He can find your sweet spot faster than you or any toy you have can and it makes you hate him and love him more and more each time. Moving languidly, you perch yourself on your elbows, wanting to gaze down between your thighs. 

Your eyes trail to the soft skin of his inner wrist, pretty blue veins, the network of his life, on display as they lead down to where you’re the most sensitive. The snap of his slender wrist as he speeds up, goes deeper and deeper until your hand instinctively comes down to pet your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

Pushing your hand away, Spencer replaces it with his hand that’s not working at your g-spot, silent with his full attention on making you cum. You appreciate this, but if he’s trying to tip you over, he’s going to have to keep talking to you in the dirty sweet way he’s mastered.

“B-baby,” your voice is shot, “talk to me, talk to me.”

“Mm. My pretty baby-”

“Can you call me that again… t-the Russian?”

Bending down and dragging his lips across your neck he hums out, “Moy Zayka,” coming up he traces his tongue against your bitten lips, “Say it…”

Two bats of your wet eyelashes and you’re muttering “Zayka,” in the softest voice you can muster, shyness drying your speech.

“Mhm. Good. Sounds so pretty coming from you.”

“God, don’t talk like that or I’ll cum right now, fuck.”

“You said-” he begins, but you cut him off with a moan. “Sorry, sorry, you’re right.”

Five more seconds of Spencer's warmth radiating off him along with the sensation of his taking you apart between your legs and you realize you have to warn him you’re about to cum. Like seriously, about to.

“Spence! Close!” You muster, legs shaking slightly as proof.

“Yeah? Good girl.” He continues his movements until black spots dance behind your eyelids and you’re coming hard against his fingers. 

Working you through it until your chest is rising and falling, he takes his fingers out, but two fingers remain on your clit.

Shit. All that fucking begging got you here.

Moans increasing, your thighs clamp together around his wrist. Trying to stop him, but just making the sensation more intense. You gasp and try to open your legs back a bit. It’s torture, but it’s the least you’ve been able to think in the past week, which is exactly what you needed.

Sitting back on his knees, dick making a tent in his trousers, Spencer smiles at you squirming. “You okay?”

Are you? Yesyesyesyesnononono. You find yourself nodding anyway.

“M… ‘ore.”

“What’s that?”

Toes squeezing, your clit starts up that heartbeat again, reviving itself at his words. Ready to cum again.

“More!” You whisper, hoping he won’t ask again.

Spencer kisses your knee sweetly, rubs his cheek against it. “You’re doing so well. Really, making me so happy.”

Your entrance flutters at his words and the overstimulation has gotten to a point of just brain melting pleasure, and your legs fall open easily, allowing him more mobility once again.

The second time you orgasm on his fingers today you’re jolting upright. Hand pressed into the mattress while the other one clamps over your mouth as you tremble watching him rub your clit and pull away at the first whine he hears from you.

“Holy shit,” You sigh out, head falling down to his pillow.

Spencer’s face to face with you again, kissing your heated skin gently. 

“How are you feeling? Can you give me another one? We can stop here, sweetie.”

“Noooo,” your lips spread into a grin at the thought of coming around his dick for the first time. How good he must feel, how it will literally melt your brain into a puddle. “I want you-”

He kisses your lips like he would when picking you up to take you to dinner. Sweet and innocent like you weren’t just painting his fingers with your release. 

You trail a trembling hand up to begin undressing him. A shameful fumble with one button that takes two times as long to unbutton than it normally takes you. Spencer’s hands cup yours to steady them and finishes off the rest of his buttons with ease.

Maybe that’s another reason to call him Dr.- the steady hands he usually has. Unless you’re giving him head, but he definitely wouldn’t be experiencing that during a procedure. He’s also not even that kind of doctor. Maybe you’ll ask him to roleplay-

You look down and Spencer is in his underwear. You could thank God. His dick is the hardest you’ve ever seen it and it’s still under its confines. The tip has leaked enough to turn the fabric slightly see through and you can make out the details of him. Your mouth is watering. 

Without a second thought you trail a nail over his bulge. As Spencer sucks in a breath you snap the band of his underwear against his lower stomach, causing him to suck in his lips and his dick to twitch.

Almost as affected as you are, Spencer breathes shallowly and looks at you expectantly till you’re lowering the band and revealing all of him. Thick and long and covered in his precum you immediately grow hazy, giving him a few pumps to gauge how he might feel inside you. He’s going to split you open.

Spitting in your hand (not that you even needed to, he's already wet with precum) you continue to jack him off, his stomach curling in when you shift into a reverse grip on him and stroke his head a few times. His hands finally grow shaky as they reach down to stop you from making him finish too fast.

Momentarily Spencer stands by the bed to remove his underwear fully, you watch his dick as it bobs in the air, wanting to give it a steady place to move into until it’s-

“Spence, please.”

“Yeah, pretty.” He nods in understanding, his tough resolve breaking down more now as he also realizes how you’re going to feel around him for the first time.

Laying down, he positions himself between your legs. He wraps his arms around your head pulling you into a kiss before moving them to cage you in while staring into your eyes. You’re trying to keep eye contact but you can feel his cock brush your stomach and you could die.

“You still want this? You’re not feeling dizzy or anything?”

“Y-yes. Not dizzy. I just really want you inside.”

He laughs and kisses your neck, “Yeah. I really do too.”

Warm palms are positioning your hips against his bed and move to break you apart. He swipes his dick, wetting it with you, before he makes any moves to penetrate you. It feels really good- you’ve heard your friends mention it, but this feels… super good. 

Going down to collect more wetness, he draws his head back up to circle your clit again. It’s probably a form of torture for him- but with the way you’re nearly giggling with pleasure, he figures it won’t hurt to do it a few more times.

“Baby,” he shudders out a breath against your forehead, “This feels really good, but I’ll cum like this, and I’d rather it be inside you.”

You laugh and wrap your hands around his neck (Spencer is polite enough to ignore the way you squeeze it slightly), giddy with happiness.

“Kay. Can you fuck me like that until we both cum next time, though?”

The way you say it, so conversational and wholesome makes Spencer clear his throat. You’re going to be the death of him. 

“Anything you want, angel.”

Then he’s moving his head against you with intent. Eyes flickering between where he’s entering you and to check your face for pain (which remains in a blissed out expression throughout the entire thing). 

Pushing the tip fully in, both of you gasp with a newfound lucidity that hasn’t overcome you since you were in the living room. There could be a LED light sign on both of your foreheads that flashes oh fuck in pink shining blinks with hearts surrounding it.

“Oh baby-” He whispers over your repeated ah, ah, ah’s.

“F-feels so good,” You squeak out, knowing he’s gonna be a worried mess to make sure you’re not feeling any pain.

With that confirmation he allows himself to rest his head down, chin against your forehead as he moans into your hair while bottoming out. The stubble is sort of scratchy against you but in a way that’s beckoning your legs open wider.

Your legs automatically wrap around his hips to keep him at the deepest point, wanting to feel the way he’s first opening you up forever. Lips gasping and closing to place a kiss at your forehead he whimpers out, “Baby, gotta let me move.”

So you let him move. You would probably do anything he suggests right now. A comical dizzy swarm of birds circling your head with a dumb smile on your face. He wants to move, your legs spread open on the bed. He wants to cum inside you? You’re gonna let him.

His first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. You make a note to yourself never to spend longer than a day away from him again. Then, another note to do this every day with him the rest of your life.

Spencer repositions himself so that his arms are straightened, alleviating some of his weight off you (sigh), but allows him to move into you at a better angle. 

Moaning, you turn your face to the side, looking at the inside of his wrist again. The intense thrusts combined with his delicate skin and fragile veins right there, you get dizzy. Shifting a little, you place a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Then another, a wet mess of a kiss that delivers the message of complete infatuation. 

Spencer groans and realizes how far away from your lips he is right now and moves to his forearms again. He pets the top of your head and whispers into the air, “You feel so perfect- just like I thought. You’re so perfect everywhere.”

In his vulnerable state, you’re right in front of his perfect, untainted neck, and you want to lick and suck at it to work through the mind numbing pleasure, like it would ground you to reality. Usually, he needs more coercing, with the team and all, it’s very hard to hide hickeys. Yet,

“Spence, baby,” you whine, putting that lilt in your voice that tears him apart, “can I kiss your neck, please?”

Immediately, “Yeah, honey, take what you need.”

And your tongue immediately licks a stripe up his skin, salty and sweet with sweat. Sucking the skin between your teeth you leave a fresh deep mark for him to parade around the next few days. You say sorry in your head looking at it, but it doesn’t make it to your lips.

He laughs and shakes his head, knowing exactly what his skin is going to look like tomorrow and in retaliation he moves your thighs overtop his shoulders, hitting a spot inside you that has your mind fuzzing. 

Your hips thrash a bit, not used to being unable move and wiggle around the pleasure like you typically do. Especially with this new stretch inside you, you’re keening.

“That feel good, baby?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, “God. Yes.” 

“Tell me I feel good.”

“Spencer,” you whine, dragging out the syllables, “you feel so good. Fucking me so good.”

He moans high, then, “Now, tell me you love me.”

With an even smaller pause than before, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Mhm. Again.”

“Baby- I love you-” You whimper out, realizing instantly he’s about to make you cum once more.

“I love you.” He replies gently, juxtaposing his thrusts again, which are now growing sloppy with his nearing orgasm.

Pulling him into a harsh kiss, you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, trembling with his skin between your jaws. Having the power to draw blood but keeping yourself at bay. Ever a good girl for him.

Without having to ask, he brings a hand to rub your clit again. You let go of his lip with a groan, head falling back against his pillow with your back arching into him.

“C-can I cum?”

“Of course you can. Baby, ‘need to feel you coming around me, I know you feel so good.”

Who are you to deny that? Biting the inside of your cheek, you're coming for him again. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, the unstoppable stretch inside you while your walls flutter for reprieve around him. Better yet, Spencer is spilling into you. 

You whine high in your throat feeling him cum inside you, somehow making more room for this alongside his cock inside you. Overwhelmed, you grab for his hand, he interlocks his fingers with yours instantly, a whimpering mess alongside you.

When his hips are still against yours, you cannot think a single thing, you only feel. The slow slow slowness of him pulling out of you with a pop. The drip of his cum out of you like a sedative. The kisses against your face and lips.

Nails scratching lightly at the base of his neck convince him enough of your coherency, nothing to panic over. Spencer is giving you space to be fucked out of your mind.

“My sweet, pretty bunny, I wanna clean you up. Can I? I’ll be gone for just a moment.”

You groan, that does not sound like something that should happen. 

“Coming with…” You mumble, barely legible.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah. Right. You’re not walking on those two legs again today. See? I’ll run.”

You smile back and close your eyes, shooing him away with a wave of your hand. He’s right too, you barely even notice the time pass before he’s back with a warm rag.

He’s cleaned you up, positioned you to lay on top of him and is pulling teasingly at your earlobe, muttering something about a takeout order he placed for you both.

You eat cuddled up on his sofa, watching some new space documentary perched on his lap. You’re sitting right by the textbook you pulled out earlier and you haven’t even noticed, your essay so far from your mind that the only thing you could possibly learn right now is the pattern of Spencer’s breath against the back of your neck.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 54: The Farm

Summary: You adjust to your life on the MacTavish farm and learn some surprising things about yourself.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,237 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, A/B/O, alternate universe, angst, emotions, fluff, animals, you might fall in love with a fictional dog, slight language.

A/N: I love this chapter and I hope you will too!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re trying to fight the tears as they sting your eyes, desperately trying to stop them from falling as you walk back towards the house. Lily steps aside, letting you enter before closing the door behind you.

“Aw, hen.” She coos, rubbing your back. “It’s okay tae cry.”

You can’t stop them. They would have fallen without the permission, but being allowed to cry only makes them fall faster. Lily wraps her arms around you, pulling you tight against her chest. Her hand strokes your hair as she coos softly at you, rocking you back and forth gently.

“Saying goodbye is always hard.” She says softly. “I damn near cry a river when Johnny-boy leaves. It’s hard when ye don’t know how long it’ll be until ye see them again. I’m sure ye know that well.”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. You don’t know when you’ll see Johnny or Simon again. If you’ll see them again. You shove that thought aside into the deep recesses of your mind. You have enough to cry about, you’re not going to entertain those kinds of thoughts right now.

Lily kisses the top of your head before pulling back, wiping your tears with her shirt sleeve. “There we go.” You sniffle, trying to stop the flood sliding down your cheeks. There’s a wet spot on her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives you a soft smile, holding your face in her hands. “Ye remind me of my youngest girl. So sweet and soft and polite. All beta. Quite the opposite of the rest of her siblings. She’s in medical school now training tae be an omega specialist.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. It makes you think of Dr. Keller and how she’s doing with her new job, how things are going with Ashley. Maybe you’ll ask John if he knows when you see him again.

“I’m sure she’ll be great at it.” You say. “Takes a lot of patience to work with omegas sometimes.”

You think about how much patience Dr. Keller had for you at the beginning, while she worked on helping you through your trauma and unlearning what the institute taught you. It had taken a long time, but you’re here today because of her and everything she did for you.

“I had an omega specialist on base for a while.” You say. “I owe a lot to her for getting me through those first few months.”

“I’m so glad ye had someone tae support ye.” Lily says, petting your hair. The tears have slowed to almost none. “I’m sure it was a great help.”

“I don’t know if I would have made it without her.” You say quietly.

“I think you could have. There’s a strength to ye. A quiet strength. I can see it.” Lily says, squeezing you against her chest one more time. “Ye’d have tae have it putting up with those boys.”

You giggle, hugging her back for a moment before she releases you.

“Come on,” She says, patting your head. “I have someone I want ye tae meet.”

You tilt your head as she moves into the house, heading for the back door. You follow, unsure who else you have to meet besides maybe the sheep.

“Here,” She says, pulling out a pair of boots. “These should work until we can get ye a proper pair of Wellies in town.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, toeing out of your tennis shoes.

“Course we do.” She says, slipping on her own boots. Storm stands at the door, ready to run out as soon as its open. “Ye need a pair anyway.”

You don’t argue, following her out the door.

The back yard is spacious, a garden set up in one corner, and a veranda in the other with a barbecue. You can imagine sitting out there in the summer, eating a hot dog and watching the sun set over the green hills. Storm races around the yard, tail wagging, all excited.

“Still young at heart.” Lily says as she walks down the path towards the gate. There’s a barn off to the right in the distance, a dirt road leading between the pastures.

You can see why she insisted on the boots now as the ground gets muddy beyond the gate.

“Murray is over the hill with the sheep.” She says, pointing off to the right where a hill rises. “Spends most of his day out there.” She opens a gate to the left, passing through before holding it open for you. “I like to spend my time in here.”

Your boots squelch as you walk through the muddy grass towards a smaller barn.

“Ye ever lived on a farm before?” Lily asks as you approach what looks like a chicken coop.

“No,” you answer. “We always lived close to the base my dad was stationed at. We moved around too much to have animals.”

“He was in the service?” She asks.

You nod. “Marines. It was his entire personality.”

She chuckles. “Usually is.” She pauses in front of the coop. “These are my girls. I let them out early and collect eggs.”

There’s ten chickens that you can count roving around the coop. It’s decent sized, bigger than you would have imagined.

“I leave them in there so the hawks don’t get ‘em.” She says. “Now, who I wanted ye to meet,” She continues towards the barn, the grass getting more and more solid as you go.

You walk up a small hill to the barn, something standing beside it. Something large and brown.

“This here is my coo, Mabel.” Lily says, walking right up to the cow.

You nearly die of cuteness on the spot. Mabel is a highland cow, all thick hair and horns and perhaps the cutest cow you’ve ever seen.

“Ye can get close. She’s very sweet.” Lily says, patting Mabel on the side.

You step up to her, holding out a hand. “Hello Mabel.” You say, Mabel nosing at your hand for a moment. You pet her nose, feeling the coarse, thick hair draped over her face.

“She’s due for a haircut.” Lily says, brushing some of the hair to the side so Mabel can see better. “And she’ll start sheddin’ soon.”

“I love her.” You say, scratching Mabel between the horns.

“Yer welcome tae come out here whenever you’d like.” Lily says. “Mabel comes and goes out of her barn as she pleases. She’s good for some cuddles when you need some love.” Lily grins at you. “She’s a great listener too.”

You smile, continuing to pet Mabel.

You might just like living on a farm after all.

You had stayed with Mabel even after Lily had gone into the house to start on dinner. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but still she insisted on starting early for a proper Sunday roast. Lily had been right about Mabel being a good listener. She hadn’t minded you hugging her, leaning your weight against her body, petting her hair as you told her all of your woes and fears. Storm had stayed in the field with you, running around before settling in the grass with a stick.

Storm followed you back to the house around lunchtime, when you’d left Mabel with a pat and a promise to come back tomorrow. She hadn’t given much of a response, but somehow deep down you knew she understood.

“Will ye wipe her feet with the towel, hen?” Lily called from the kitchen when you entered with Storm.

“Yeah,” You say, spotting the towel hanging near the door. Storm stands dutifully, letting you wipe most of the mud off of her feet. She licks your face before heading for the kitchen, abandoning you for the prospect of food. You don’t mind. Your stomach is growling too.

“How many sandwiches would ye like, hen?” Lily asks, bringing a platter of chips and vegetables to the table.

“Just one.” You answer. She gives you a sideways glance. “I could probably eat two though.”

She smiles. “Two it is then. I won’t have ye going hungry here.”

You don’t doubt she means that.

“Murray’ll be in, in a bit.” She says, setting a plate of two sandwiches in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “He can make his own.”

“I could make my own too.” You suggest quietly.

“Nonsense.” Lily says, waving away the idea. “Yer a guest. I’m more’n happy tae feed ye.”

“Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Of course,” She says, grabbing a carrot off the platter. “John said ye were havin’ trouble bein’ on base. I wasnae gonna let ye live somewhere ye weren’t comfortable. Besides, I’ve been excited tae meet ye, get tae know ye.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet their families too.” You say. “I’ve met Kyle’s sister but that was it before now.”

“Aye, those Garricks are something special.” She says.

“They really are.” You grin. “Like perfect angels.”

“Indeed.” She says.

Silence falls over the table as you eat, Storm sitting by your side on the floor, staring longingly at your food. You’re tempted to ‘accidentally’ drop a piece but you’re not sure if that’ll be allowed so instead you try and look away, ignoring those big puppy eyes staring into your soul.

Murray comes in right before you finish eating, toeing off his boots at the door. His pants are splattered with mud, as is his shirt as he pulls off his jacket.

“Yers are in the kitchen.” Lily says, finishing off her own sandwich.

“Thank ye, love.” He kisses Lily’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“I hear ye like tae read.” Lily says, turning back to you.

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well help yerself to any of the books on the shelves. The kids have some books in their rooms too. Yer more’n welcome tae browse those too.” She says, standing from the table. She takes your plate, heading to the kitchen as Murray comes out with his own plate of sandwiches.

“Did ye have a good mornin’?” He asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.

You nod. “I got to see the chickens and met Mabel.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Mabel’s a sweet old girl.”

“She is. I’ve never been around animals, outside of a few petting zoos.” You say. “But I already like Mabel a lot.”

“Aye, we’ll turn ye into a farm girl in no time.” Murray grins. “Ye can see the sheep when I bring ‘em in later too.”

“I’d like that.” You say.

After lunch you settle into the couch with a book pulled off one of the many shelves in the room. Storm has joined you, curling up beside you with her head in your lap.

“That dog really likes ye.” Lily says as she joins you, pulling out her knitting.

You smile, petting Storm’s head. “I’m not sure why.”

“Dogs are good judges of character.” She says. “She senses something in ye.”

You scratch behind Storm’s ears as silence falls over the room again and you return to reading your book. You wonder if it’s really true, if Storm can sense something about you that’s drawing her in. Whatever it is, you’re glad she likes you. It could be the opposite, you suppose. She could dislike you. You wonder what that would say about your character if that were the case.

Regardless, you’re growing to find her presence comforting. The entire house is comforting, despite the turmoil you still feel inside. The farm is a good distraction, but in these moments of silence you know you’re going to struggle the most. These moments where you have to be present, you have to face down the truth that you’re hundreds of miles from your pack and there’s still a couple weeks before you’ll see them again...before you’ll see John again. It’ll be just you and John for a while. Then Kyle will join you. Then you’ll be three separated from the two others.

It breaks your heart that they won’t retire, but you’d never admit that.

Maybe someday they’ll make that decision, but you know it won’t be anytime soon.

You shift on the couch, Storm lifting her head before settling back down, adjusting herself so she’s even closer to you than she was before, almost as if she can sense the shift in your emotions.

You scan the photos on the wall in the hallway. You’ve been roving around waiting for dinner to be ready, taking in all of the artwork and the many photos decorating the walls. Photos of Johnny and his siblings as kids, family portraits, artistic shots of the farm and the animals and the kids with them. You’ve even found a framed photo of Storm and Bron on the wall.

You pass by a shadow box decorated with military medals and stripes. You’d almost assume it was Johnny’s but you know he’ll still wear his when the occasion requires. No, these are Murray’s. Chief Petty Officer MacTavish.

“You served?” You ask as the man himself rounds the corner.

He pauses, glancing at the box before nodding. “Aye. Royal Navy. Joined as soon as I graduated. Didnae know what else tae do with myself. I was forced to retire when Johnny was still a lad. Hip injury.” He smiles as he stares at the medals. “Moved the family out here, bought a few sheep, rest is history.”

“You must be proud of Johnny then.” You say. You can piece together that his father’s history with the armed forces played a role in his own decision to join.

“Aye. Though his job scares the piss out of me sometimes.” He pats your back. “I hear your own father served.”

You nod as the two of you walk down the hall. “Marines.” You say. “I can’t imagine him doing anything else. He was...very patriotic. Spent a lot of time preaching the necessity of giving our lives to protect the country to us kids. Two of my three older brothers joined too. The rest of us went on to do other things. I never thought I’d be back in it, though.”

“That must have been a shock.” Lily says as the two of you arrive at the table. She’s setting a pan of roast beef on the table. “I can only imagine what it was like tae leave that world only to be right back in it.”

“I was in deeper than I was with my dad.” You say, taking your seat. “It was an adjustment, but I’ll honestly say I’m glad I’m getting to leave it behind.”

“I don’t blame ye one bit.” She says, taking a seat at the table. “The stress is unimaginable, even when they’re not goin’ off tae war.” She passes a glance at Murray. “I’m glad yer gettin’ this chance.”

“Aye, I’m proud of John fer retiring. It’s time he settled down.” Murray says, staring to load his plate.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire pudding. A proper Sunday roast, or so you’re told.

“You know him well?” You ask curiously as you start to load your own plate.

“Aye, he’s been here a few times since Johnny joined his pack.” Murray says.

“We were skeptical at first, but he proved himself alright.” Lily says. “He’s a good alpha, and a good man.”

“But whatever magic ye worked tae get him to retire…” Murray grins. “Consider it an act of god.”

You smile bashfully, your face warming just a bit. “I’m not sure what I did exactly, besides just existing in his life.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man needs.” Lily says, giving you a smile.

The Sunday roast is delicious. It’s better than what you ate at restaurants in town during the weekends that John insisted everyone go out for Sunday dinner. It’s even better than your own attempts at the cottage, though you’d never tell Dr. Keller that.

You’ll have to get some recipes from Lily before you leave.

After dinner the three of you settle in the living room again, Murray turning on the TV. Storm lays at your feet, Bron laying between you and Murray. You’ve got a beer in your hand, cold where it rests against your leg. Murray hadn’t even asked, instead passing one to you silently. You’d taken it, knowing it would be rude to refuse. It’s not your first time drinking by far. You and your brothers used to sneak sips here and there during barbecues and holidays, and the guys have made sure to corrupt you in that way.

Still, the alcohol makes you feel warm as you drink it, chasing away the nerves that nightfall brings.

A lot of things can happen at night, and you can feel the looming darkness outside. It’s darker here than on base, no light pollution to offer some respite from the inky blackness outside.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the windows, even with the curtains closed.

Despite the nagging fear at the back of your brain, the beer makes you feel warm and fuzzy. That, and Storm’s comforting presence against your feet. It’s nice knowing there’s someone that will sense something off before even you can.

It’s late by the time you decide to call it a night. Storm follows you to your room, standing in the doorway as you pull clothes out of your bag.

“C’mon Stormy.” Lily says, patting her back. “Goodnight, hen.”

“Goodnight.” You call, watching Storm hesitate before heading down the hallway with Lily.

You get ready for bed before turning out the light, crawling under the covers. You can still smell a bit of Johnny on the pillow and blankets. You breathe in his spicy, citrusy scent. It blends with the earthy scent of John on your shirt, offering up a comforting cocktail of your boys. You wish they were there still in person, but you’ll take their scents.

You wonder how long it will be until they fade away. You doubt they’ll last the entire time you’re here.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up John’s number. He had texted you earlier letting you know they made it safe, but you need to hear his voice. You listen to it ring, holding your breath. It’s late, and you half expect him to be in bed already. He has an early morning tomorrow, unless he decides to skip working out...you doubt he’ll do that though, now that he doesn’t have you to worry about.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, tired sounding.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly quietly, letting out a breath. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” There’s rustling on the other side of the line. “I was laying awake.”

“Same.” you say, pulling the covers up around you.

“How are things going up there?” He asks.

“Good.” you answer honestly. “I met a cow today.”

“Did you?” he chuckles. “How did that go?”

“Good. I really like her. She’s a good listener.” you listen to his chuckle on the other end. “Storm has also really taken to me.”

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Murray treating you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling onto your side. “They’re amazing. Lily’s a really good cook. Makes me feel sorry for you that you’re going to have to eat my cooking.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” He says. “I survived on it at the cottage.”

“Yeah but that was only a couple times. I can make like three things confidently.”

“Then we’ll learn together. We’ll only have to survive until Kyle’s paperwork is approved. Then he can cook. It’ll be good for him, having something to do.”

What are you going to do? You want to ask it but you’re not sure how well that will go over. What is he going to do once he’s retired? Maybe you can convince him to start a farm. It would be good for him to have some physical work to do every day. He’s used to never having a day off, and you don’t get days off on a farm.

You’ll worry about that later, when the time actually comes.

“How are things down there?” You ask. “How are the boys.”

“Coping.” He says. “Johnny pouted the entire way home. It’s not the same being just us again. We got so used to your presence it feels empty.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “It feels weird not having you here with me. I’m not sure I can survive.”

“I think we can make it.” He says. “It’s only for a couple weeks at most. By the end you’ll be sad to leave.”

“I do like it here.” You muse. “It’s cozy and comfortable and I like having animals around. Wish you were here though.”

“Soon.” He says, muffling a yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow, right?”

He hums. “Earlier than I’d like.”

“Ready to retire?” You ask.

“I can feel it coming.” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You should get some rest too. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

You likely won’t sleep well tonight either, but you won’t tell him that. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. “I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

He hums again. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, John.” You say quietly, holding the phone to your ear until he ends the call.

You stare at the screen for a moment before setting your phone on the nightstand once more. You feel more comfortable now after hearing John’s voice. It’s soothed some of the nerves churning in your stomach. He’s just a phone call away, and soon he’ll be back within reach. Just a couple weeks at most. You should be able to survive that.

You hope you will.

You do manage to sleep.

There’s light coming through the curtains when you wake, and you can hear the faint clacking of dishes down the hall. You squint blearily at your phone. It’s past nine. You’ve slept in later than you meant to. They’re early risers, being on a farm and all. You realized that yesterday when you heard them moving around before dawn.

Here you’ve gone and slept in.

You get up, changing clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Lily’s in the kitchen when you get up, still a bit bleary from a rough night’s sleep.

“Morning, hen.” She says, turning from the dishes when she hears you patter in.

“Sorry, I slept in.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

“None of that now, yer a guest. Ye can sleep in as late as ye’d like.” She says, waving her hand. “I’ve saved some breakfast for ye. Let me heat it up.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to.” She says, pushing you out of the kitchen. “Juice or coffee?”

“Juice is fine.” You say, taking a seat at the table. Storm comes over to you, pawing at your hand. You give her some pets, scratching behind her ear.

“Here ye are.” Lily says, bringing you a plate loaded with eggs and sausage and toast. She sets it down in front of you along with a glass of orange juice. It’s probably freshly squeezed.

“Thank you. It looks delicious.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes delicious too. You never knew a simple eggs and sausage and toast could taste so good. Lily must work magic in the kitchen. That can be the only explanation for how wonderful she can make even the simplest food taste.

You slip on your borrowed boots after you finish eating, following Lily out into the yard again. Storm trots along beside you, tongue hanging out in excitement.

“Ye ever driven an ATV before?” Lily asks you, and you notice one parked next to the gate just past the fence. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday.

You shake your head. “No.”

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll teach ye soon. I’m gonnae go grab some hay from the barn for Mabel. Ye go on ahead and start givin’ her a good brushin’.”

Lily opens the gate to the pasture where the barn sits before climbing on the ATV. You open the other gate to Mabel’s pasture, Storm running through as soon as its open. You leave it open, passing the chickens on your hike up the small hill to where Mabel stands, looking like she has no care in the world.

Her brush hangs in her small barn and you grab it off the wall. Her hair is thick and coarse, the brush catching on a few tangles. You’re careful not to pull too hard, working the knots out gently.

Lily arrives on the ATV, towing a small trailer behind it stacked with bales of hay.

“Come and help me unload this, hen.” She says, climbing off the ATV.

You shove the brush into your back pocket, treading through the grass to the stack of hay bales. Lily tosses you a pair of gloves, something you’re grateful for as soon as you put your hands on the hay. It pokes at you, a few pieces even sticking you through the gloves.

It’s also heavy.

Your arms shake as you lift one of the bales, just managing to get it up off the stack. You heft it the few feet to the barn, stacking it on top of the others. Lily lifts the next bale, making it seem almost easy.

“They’re heavy.” You say, letting out a breath as you return to grab the next one.

“Aye.” Lily says with a grin. “We’ve got tae get yer muscles built up. Turn ye into a proper farm girl in no time.”

You’re out of breath by the time the last bale has been stacked, a few small scratches on your arms where you’d pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt to avoid getting hay in the fabric. Somehow you’ve still managed, feeling the small pokes even through your jeans.

“Keep workin’ on Mabel, I’m gonnae take the trailer back.” Lily says.

Your arms feel like jelly as you grab the brush out of your pocket again, returning to brushing Mabel’s back. You knew you were out of shape compared to what you once were, but you think even if you weren’t that would have been a struggle. Farm work is hard and you’ve barely had a taste of it. It speaks volumes of just how strong Johnny’s parents are that they can do this every day.

Lily returns, walking up the hill to where you are. “We refill her ‘bout once a week.” She says, patting Mabel’s nose. “Can’t keep all of it here, or she’ll eat it all.”

You grin, Mabel’s head tilting as you brush a spot on the side of her neck. You’re getting covered in cow hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“She’ll be sheddin’ her winter coat soon.” Lily says running her fingers through Mabel’s hair, picking out a few chunks. “Things get very hairy up here.”

You laugh, brushing under Mabel’s chin as she tilts her head up for you. “I can imagine.”

“I’m gonnae go find Murray, ye stay out here as long as ye like.” She says, patting your shoulder before heading back down to the ATV.

Storm stays in the pasture with you again, happily laying in the grass while you finish up brushing Mabel.

You lean against her side, resting your head on her back. “We’ll be okay, right?” You ask, not expecting an answer, and you don’t get one aside from a loud cluck from a chicken.

You head back into the house, Storm following you. You toe off your boots at the door, wiping down Storm’s feet before heading into the living room. You pick up the book you had been reading from the coffee table, settling on the couch. Storm jumps up beside you, sitting there staring expectantly.

You stare back, tilting your head. “What?”

She puts a paw on your leg, sniffing your cheek.

“Oh alright.” You put your book to the side before scratching her neck. She leans into you, licking your arm as you scratch her. “You’re so soft.” You say, hugging her against your chest as you scratch down her back. “Must have gotten a bath recently, huh?”

You kiss her head before releasing her, going back to your book. She curls up next to you, leaning against your leg. You drop a hand to rest against her back, feeling her comforting warmth against you.

The days go by and you settle into a bit of a routine on the farm. You start to wake up earlier and earlier, adjusting to hearing Lily and Murray up and moving around early in the morning. You’re still not sleeping well, but you are managing to get some sleep at night.

John’s called every day, wanting to know how you’re doing, how you’re settling in. It gets easier and easier to tell him you’re doing alright, as you start to believe it. But no matter how comfortable you get in Lily and Murray’s home, there’s still a deep ache in your chest, a yearning for your pack, for your alpha.

You thought it might be weird being around an unknown alpha, but Murray has been careful to keep himself from being overbearing and overwhelming. Sometimes you forget he’s an alpha, but his strong scent reminds you every time you smell it. He’s not like any alpha you’ve been around before, but then again, you think he has Lily to thank for that.

You don’t know many alphas that chose to take beta mates over omegas. It was so unheard of in your circle of friends and family friends growing up. Your father surrounded himself with like-minded alphas, traditionalists that prided themselves on scoring a prize omega who could give them pups.

You suppose John had taken a beta as his mate, but you know that dynamic is different, and it became even more complex once you were added into the picture. Maybe John would have wound up more like Murray had it just been him and Kyle in the long run.

A beta’s soothing presence is enough to calm and alpha’s instincts over time. It probably helps that he’s older, those instincts less strong now than they would have been likely just a few years ago. You know alphas calm over time, those instincts settling as they get older, as they settle down.

You wonder how long it will take John’s instincts to start settling now that he’s retiring out of a high-stress job.

You’ve taken to being on the farm and helping out more and more. Mabel has become your lifeline, your stand-in therapist. It’s a bit healing, laying against her side, telling her how much you miss your pack, how nervous you are about this new chapter in your life, how fast things seem to be moving. You’ve only been with your pack for just over a year now and already so many things have happened, so many things have changed. She may not be able to offer much in terms of conversation or advice, but it’s still comforting to have someone there who can listen and not judge.

You’ve even come to know the chickens a bit, gathering eggs a couple times when you’ve gotten up early enough to beat Lily to it. You’ve had your fingers pecked more than a few times, but you’re growing fearless around them, shoving the broody ones to the side to grab their eggs.

A week goes by before you know it, settling into the clock-like rotation of life on a farm. It’s comforting to have a schedule, to always have something to do. It reminds you of being on base, of conforming to the guys’ schedules. You prefer this kind of schedule and work, though.

Maybe you can talk John into a farm. It would be good for him, help him settle into civilian life where you don’t have someone telling you what to do...or where you’re not the someone telling others what to do.

You wake early on Sunday, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lay in bed for a moment. It’s early, but still you hear Lily and Murray moving around. You feel like dragging your feet this morning, but you don’t, sliding out of bed before grabbing clothes.

“Morning Stormy.” You say, greeting the dog laying at your door. She’s taken up vigil in the mornings, laying there waiting for you to get up.

You pat her head before stepping over her, heading for the bathroom. Lily had done some washing for you, despite your insistence that you could do it yourself. She was keen to do as much for you as possible. She said she misses being able to mother someone. Murray won’t let her. He’s stubborn like that.

You head for the kitchen, Lily already up with breakfast at the table.

“Mornin’ hen.” She greets you, pouring coffee into a mug. Murray is at the table as well, sipping his own cup.

“Morning.” You say, taking your seat and the offered mug. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. We’re goin’ tae Mass today.” Lily explains.

You hadn’t really thought much about it, though you should have guessed given the candles and the crucifix on the wall that they were religious. The idea of Johnny being raised Catholic is hard for you to grasp.

“Did ye go to church growin’ up?” Murray asks you as Lily sets a plate of food in front of you.

“Not really.” You say. “Mostly just Christmas and Easter.” As patriotic as your father was, he didn’t pay much mind to religion. Sundays were for beer and football and a good dinner.

“We try tae go every Sunday.” Lily says. “Though we don’t always make it.”

Like last Sunday, you think. They had been busy with helping you get settled in.

“Gives us an excuse tae go into town.” Murray says.

“We’ll do some shoppin’ while we’re there.” Lily says. “Get ye anythin’ ye might need too.”

You’re not sure what you might need. You thought you had brought enough to last you the couple weeks, though something tells you Lily is going to find something you need. She had said something about getting you a proper pair of boots. You wonder what else she might decide you need.

Church went well, although you had no idea what a Catholic Mass was like, nor what you were supposed to do, but you followed along well enough. Shopping afterward had gone as you expected. You got your new pair of boots, strawberry printed, and Lily had decided you needed a couple new pairs of jeans. It was true yours were starting to show the wear and tear of farm life, and they weren’t proper work jeans, according to her. You weren’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t listened to your protests, buying you the pants anyway.

It was a nice, warm day so Lily had taken you out to her garden to help her set up for the spring plants she’d grow. You pulled weeds, harvested some of the last winter vegetables, dug holes, played in the dirt. It felt good doing something with your hands. It gave you purpose, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Sure, being an omega you had your purpose, but lately it had been a bit...mundane. You had been forced into the box of ‘sit there and look pretty and offer us some comfort,’ even if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. You hadn’t even really noticed it until now, until you got some space from it. Now that you were actually doing things, now that you had a true purpose, helping out on the farm, you realized just how deep you had been shoved into that box.

Maybe coming here was a good thing after all.

That night you cry for the first time. You’re not sure why. Maybe the dirt under your fingernails had awoken something in you, some deep crevasse of your emotions opening under your feet.

It’s a silent cry in the darkness, the moon bright through the curtains, bathing your room with more light than even your nightlight. You’d just hung up the call from John and suddenly tears are falling down your cheeks. You miss him. You miss them all. You’re terrified for Simon and Johnny, you’re yearning for your alpha, for your comfort. You want the bed to dip behind you, for his arms to slide around you and hold you close. You want his scent to wrap around you and permeate your being.

You’re homesick.

The magic of the first week has worn off and now you’re feeling the complex emotions that have been brewing under the surface. There’s a deep ache in your chest, harsh and painful. You curl up tight in a ball, trying to ease the pain of missing home, of missing your alpha.

You drift off into a hazy sleep, floating in and out all night until you finally manage to slip into a deep sleep for a couple of hours early in the morning.

You wake later than you would have wanted to, and for a moment you forget where you are. There’s a warm weight against your back, and for a moment you think you’re back in the barracks, that John is sleeping behind you, pressed up against your back.

But as you wake up, you remember where you are: hundreds of miles away from the barracks and John.

The sun is up, shining its golden light through your window. You turn as best you can, the heavy weight pinning the blankets down over you.

You’re met with black and white fur. Storm has somehow snuck her way into your room and curled up on the bed with you. Tears prick your eyes as you turn to face her, running a hand down her back. She lets out a sigh, shifting her body onto her side so her head rests on your pillow.

“Hi Storm.” You whisper, burying your face in her fur.

She lays there, breathing steady and even as you try not to cry, as you fight the emotions welling up inside of you again. Storm licks your hand, dragging her soft tongue against your skin, almost like she’s trying to lick up your sadness.

“Okay, okay,” You sniffle, pulling your hand away. You lay there for a moment longer, both of you still in the quiet morning. Lily must be out gathering eggs or taking care of Mabel. You don’t feel bad for sleeping in this time.

Storm climbs down off the bed as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You grab a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Storm is waiting in the hallway for you and the two of you walk together towards the kitchen. Lily is sitting at the table, reading a magazine.

“Mornin’, hen.” She greets you before looking down at Storm. “Mornin’ ye sneak. Sorry if she disturbed ye. I tried to get her back out.”

You shake your head. “She didn’t disturb me. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Lily hums, patting Storm’s head. “Ye must have needed her, then.”

Tears start to prick behind your eyes, those emotions that you thought you had shoved down starting to come back to the surface. You know Lily won’t judge you for crying, for being homesick, but still that fear of showing too many emotions starts to overwhelm you.

“It’s alright, hen.” Lily says, on her feet before you even know it, pulling you into a hug. “Homesick, huh.”

It’s not a question.

“I understand.” She says softly, patting your head as you struggle to hold those emotions down. “I would be too.”

Her hands rub your back, her scent strong in the air as she tries to help comfort you. You both know it won’t be enough, but still the thought of it is sweet. She’s doing her best to try and make this easy for you, to try and help you through the inevitable breakdown of missing your pack and your alpha. From what John has said, it won’t be long before he’s finally free of the shackles of the military. A few more days at most before he’ll be making the final drive up here to retrieve you, and you’ll move on to whatever is waiting for you on the other side.

It makes you sad to leave too, though. You’ve grown comfortable on the farm, adjusting to life here and its routine and stability. It’s kept you more active than anything, and you’re going to miss having an excuse to do more than read and sleep all day. Of course, taking care of a house will involve a lot more, but you know there’s only so much you can do even in that regard.

You want to feel useful.

You don’t cry as much as you thought you might. Your thoughts have kept you stable, ideas forming, plans putting themselves together. You lean against Lily’s chest, arms wrapped around her. You’ll be forever grateful for everything she’s done for you, even if she doesn’t realize she’s done it.

You pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say.

Lily gives you a soft smile, petting your hair. “Of course, hen. Ye know I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You laugh, sniffling. “You give good hugs.”

“I’ve been told that.” She pats the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some food in ye.”

Storm sleeps in your room from then on. You’re not sure Lily could change her mind even if she tried. She’s on the bed as soon as you open the door to Johnny’s room, making herself at home. You’re silently grateful for her comforting presence, often waking cuddling her up on your pillow.

You’ve become inseparable, unless Lily is in the kitchen, then she betrays you for the prospect of any handouts. You don’t blame her one bit. You’d be in there begging too if Lily didn’t involve you as much as she has started doing. You had asked for recipes, so Lily had taken that as her excuse to start mentoring you in the kitchen, teaching you everything she knows.

You’ve been kept busy, and you’re grateful for it.

Storm follows you around as you do your chores, self-appointed chores. You fetch more hay for Mabel as she’s running low, give her a good brush to help loosen some of her shedding fur, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, pick a few of the last winter vegetables that have ripened before helping Lily make lunch.

You even get to hold a baby lamb.

You fall in love almost instantly.

Another animal to add to your list of animals to convince John to get for you.

Your last day on the farm comes with an unexpected morning phone call. Usually John called at night, but this time catches you by surprise at the breakfast table. You got up to answer, Storm following you down the hall as you speak to John.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” John says. “I have good news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. “Oh?”

“My paperwork was finalized this morning. I’ll be coming up tomorrow to get you.”

Nerves and excitement boil in your stomach. You’re excited that it’s finally happened, that he’s finally free and you’ll get to see him in just a few hours. At the same time you’re nervous for what this means, for this start of the new chapter. There’s also a bittersweet edge to it, from the thought of leaving the farm after the wonderful almost two weeks you’ve spent here.

“That’s great!” You say, trying to sound convincing, channeling that inner excitement.

“I’ll call before I leave so you know when to expect me.” He says, sounding almost relieved.

“Sounds good.” You say, leaning down to pet Storm as she paws at you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know. It’s been long enough.” He says. “I have to get packing, but I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

You walk back to the table, your stomach in knots. Excitement and nerves still race through you. You’re not quite sure what to feel yet, all of it a bit too much at once.

“Everything alright?” Murray asks.

You nod. “John’s paperwork finally went through. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lily cheers. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure yer goin’ tae be happy to see him.”

You nod again. “I am. I’ve missed him.”

“I bet.” She says reaching over to pat your hand.

“But I’m going to be sad to leave too.” You say. “I’ve really enjoyed being here.”

“And we’ve enjoyed havin’ ye.” Murray says.

“Ye can always visit, whenever ye want to.” Lily says, giving you a smile. “Yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” You say, trying to avoid looking down at Storm and her puppy eyes. You have a feeling she’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.

You do your chores the next morning despite the fact John will arrive in a few hours. It just feels right to spend your last day on the farm doing as much as you can, savoring your last taste of farm life. You’ll miss Mabel, and you’ll even miss the chickens despite the few little cuts on your hands from sharp beaks. You’ll miss having stuff to do. Sure, you’re going to settle into your new life easier than John will, but at the same time, you’re going to withdraw from this routine you’ve grown to follow.

You spend the time after lunch cuddling with Storm on the couch. She seems sadder than usual, almost as if she knows this is going to be goodbye for now. Even Bron is at your feet, curled in a ball as you all wait for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Your bags are packed and by the door, including your Wellies, ready to be taken away from this surrogate home, from your surrogate family. Well, they are your family, you suppose. An extension of your pack member.

You’re not ready to get up as the sound of tires eventually does come, Murray rising from his seat to greet John at the door. You let out a sigh, patting Storm one more time before standing.

It feels almost surreal seeing John again after nearly two weeks away. He greets you with open arms and a smile, not even waiting for anything to be said. You’re in his arms almost as fast as he opened them, pressing yourself close against his chest. You’ve been without him for longer, but this time it felt different. You were hanging over the precipice of a drastic change. His arrival has been the first step in that change, the start of a new chapter in both of your lives.

“I trust you’ve been well taken care of.” He says as you pull away.

“Very well.” You say, smiling.

“And ye better keep that up.” Lily says threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He says, giving her a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to have some company.” She says.

“Ye can visit us any time ye like.” Murray says, shaking John’s hand.

John grabs your bags, the four of you heading outside with the dogs. You hug Lily, tears falling as you say your goodbye.

“Call me.” She says, patting your back. “For anything, even just tae chat. And don’t forget to visit.”

“Thank you.” You say, wiping your cheeks. “For everything.”

“Yer welcome, hen.” She says, brushing a hand over your head.

“Thank you, too.” You say to Murray, giving him a hug as well.

“Of course.” He says, patting your back. “It was our pleasure.”

You kneel down in the gravel, giving Storm a hug. She licks your cheek, letting out a quiet whine. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She gives you one last lick before you stand, giving Bron some pats before you turn away, heading towards the car. Sadness but also joy fills you as you climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. You turn to look behind you, the car full of boxes, but in the seat behind John your big bear sits, buckled in.

You smile softly as John climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he turns on the car.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod. “Ready.”

He turns the key, the car rumbling to life beneath you. They wave as you drive down the driveway, and you watch the house until it disappears around the bend. You turn back in your seat, letting out a sigh as John turns onto the road towards Glasgow.

“Can we get a dog? And some chickens? And a cow? And some sheep?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Let’s find a place to live, first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

NEXT ->

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[trashytracktales]

PLSSSS part 2 to this time tomorrow but it’s a year or so later and he’s dealt with his grief and guilt and happily ever after pls

Same time yesterday | MV³³

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪

*can’t be read as a standalone.

✦ summary ──── It’s been eleven months since she left, and her absence haunted every aspect of Max’s life.

✦ pairing ──── Max Verstappen x she/her reader

✦ rating ──── explicit

✦ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, feelings of unworthiness, emotional angst, isolation, themes of guilt, grief and self-doubt, panic attack with descriptions of physical symptoms, struggles with self-worth, insecurity and personal trauma, healing through intimacy, smut, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, pet names, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation.

✦ word count ──── 8.5k

✦ date ──── Jun. 12, 2025

✦ a/n ──── This is not very I don’t do part 2s of me, but the amount of people requesting it made me feel guilty, so here we are. YOU WIN (ILY) 🙄. All jokes aside, writing this healed something in me. Goodnight 🤍✨

MAX DIDN’T EXPECT her to actually leave.

In his stubbornness, he hoped that he’d find her back in his apartment once he returned from work a week later, when her mind would clear up and the adrenaline of the breakup would be long gone. But when that didn’t happen, and he came back to an empty place, he slowly began to panic. On the inside, of course. Because Max is the kind of person who rarely ever displays his feelings out in the open, and when he does it, it’s usually his ruthless side that comes out. He would never admit in front of anyone that he has weaknesses. The only time he’s ever done it was in front of the mirror, in those mornings when everything became too heavy to carry for a pair of shoulders already weighed by the burdens of the past.

He did not expect her to leave.

Not after everything they’d said to each other, not after the way she’d touched his face the night she walked out, and the way her lips lingered on his cheek like a goodbye she didn’t want to make real. Not after she whispered that he knew where to find her. That she was still willing to give them a chance, but this time, they as a whole had a price. And he needed to cover it in its entirety.

When her absence has finally caught up to him, Max got angry.

Not at her, but at the hole she left behind. At himself for not begging her to stay, even though that goes against everything he is as a person. At the way grief still had its claws in his chest even when he thought he’d buried it deep enough to allow himself to love again.

She said she understood. She acted like she did for so long. But then she left. She promised she wasn’t asking for more than he could give, and then she still walked away when he couldn’t give it fast enough. It felt like betrayal to Max, twisted and misplaced, but real.

After that, he threw himself into work like he always did: training, simulation, back-to-back race weekends. Late nights at the gym, longer ones behind the wheel. But no matter how many laps he ran, no matter how fast he drove, he couldn’t outpace the noise inside his own head. At times, it felt as if it tried to deafen him completely. And sometimes, there were so many voices in there that they overlapped and he had the impression that he could go mad.

It got worse when doubts started creeping in.

What if he’d ruined something good once again?

What if she was right, and he never actually moved on, not from grief, not from guilt, not from his dead wife?

He couldn’t trust himself anymore. The same instincts that made him a four-time World Champion now betrayed him on track. He second-guessed overtakes, overcorrected in turns, and crashed into his rivals on purpose.

The paddock noticed it, so did the press. Max Verstappen didn’t make mistakes, until he did. And the worst part of all: he stopped caring.

His despair was subtle at first. It bled in during the long flights, in the lonely hotel rooms, and in the silence after a shitty race. He tried texting her a couple of times, but it was always short, dry, and empty. She responded kindly, as usual, but never let it go further. Though Max hated it, he respected that, because he respected her, even if he thought it was bullshit. All of it.

It wasn’t until one particularly sleepless night, many months after she left, that the loneliness finally did what the anger couldn’t: it made his mind quiet. It made him sit with himself and be brutally honest. Realistically, he realized that no trauma will ever completely heal. A shadow of guilt will always follow him, no matter who he ends up becoming, what he achieves in his career and who’s going to be there with him.

That night, Max stood in front of the mirror, the ring on his finger slightly sparkling in the bathroom light. It somehow looked dull, like it, too, got tired from being worn by a man who didn’t know how to let go. Only this time, he didn’t see his wife. Instead, he saw the woman who stayed even when he didn’t have the words to explain himself, the one who kissed him like she was pouring pieces of herself into the cracks of him, the one who left not to hurt him out of spite, but to save them both. Or at least try.

And he understood that the ring didn’t remind him of grief anymore. It reminded him of who managed to give it a whole another meaning. It reminded him of what he stood to lose if he didn’t start choosing life instead of loss. And just like that, still panicking on the inside, he figured a new way of feeling the pain and owning it without hurting so much.

Max’s fingers trembled, but he took it off. He took. The damn ring. Off.

And something about the silence cracked open the moment he did it. At first, it was a strange numbness, like his skin and limbs and even his thoughts didn’t belong to him. Then the trembling turned into tremors. His hands shook so badly that the ring slipped from his palm, clinking against the sink like a warning. He had a tiny impulse to put it back, but he didn’t. His breath hitched, chest rising in short bursts that couldn’t catch enough air. The walls of the room seemed to press in, tighter and tighter, so he gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white. His heart thudded violently between his lungs, and he could hear it.

Then his knees gave out, and he collapsed to the cold tile floor, curled onto his side, eyes wide and unfocused as his mind raced with fear — am I dying? Is this how it ends? All alone…

He didn’t call anyone. He didn’t move, because he couldn’t. He just lay there, whispering to himself that he deserved this. That maybe this was part of it: the punishment, the penance, the cost of finally letting go. But he’d chosen grief so long, it felt wrong to be free of it. And, ultimately, he ended up convincing himself it was better that way, but every time he looked at the empty space on his finger, he wondered how long she’d wait. If she was still waiting at all.

He couldn’t stand the thought of her saying no after that, so he never texted her again.

IT’S A RANDOM Tuesday when Max is in the pet aisle, squinting at a row of identical cat food cans, wearing an old Red Bull hoodie from the early 2010s. The hood is up, casting a shadow over his face, a subtle shield against the world.

He isn’t expecting anything. Maybe a fan or two who may recognize him. But not her. However, the second she walks through the automatic doors, pushing her cart slowly, head tilted like she’s scanning the shelves for something specific, he sees her. Her hair is a little shorter now. Her coat swings open as she walks, and she’s humming softly to herself, unaware.

Until she turns, and her eyes meet his. Time doesn’t stop, but it does slow, just enough for Max’s chest to go tight. And they both realize it at the same time: they’re going to have to choose. Quickly. A nod and a half-smile, play it off like strangers passing in the middle of something ordinary.

Or talk.

Max does it before she gets the chance to. He doesn’t even glance at the shelves again. His hand reaches out and grabs two random cans of cat food, the labels facing the wrong way, something he wouldn’t normally touch. But it’s not about the cat food anymore.

It’s about how she notices the way Max squeezes the cans in his hands, and how his left hand, in particular, molds around the circular container, making her heart stop for a beat.

“Your hand’s all naked,” her mouth talks without her permission the moment he gets close enough for him to hear her; the fact that it’s the first thing she tells him doesn’t come as a suprise for either of them.

Max smiles a little, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he says quietly, looking down at it like he hadn’t realized it himself until now. “It’s been for a while.”

They stand there, hands full of domestic normalcy, bodies not quite knowing what to do next.

“Hi,” her lips curl slightly into something that isn’t quite a smile, but not quite neutral either.

“Hi,” he echoes, voice a little raspier than he’d like. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” adds Max, glancing around like maybe the store has changed since he last looked.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, looking anywhere but at him.

There’s too much unsaid between them to make small talk feel right. Too many memories that exist in kitchens and beds and mornings with whispers and kisses. And yet they try.

“You look good,” Max says, his eyes flicking up and down, unsure of where to land. “Shorter hair suits you.”

She nods. “Thanks. You look…,” her voice trails off, checking him out from head to toe in order to find something nice to connect with, but when she can’t do that, she chooses to be honest instead. “Tired.”

Max smiles, but looks defeated as he does. “Not sleeping much.”

“Work?”

He hesitates. “And everything else.”

They both look like they want to leave but can’t quite make their feet move. It feels like there’s too much air between them, and yet, too many things have already been said, cried out, and broken open like bones that never healed right. Max can feel it rising in his throat. It’s bitter and sweet all at once. The fucking guilt. The longing. It’s her, actually. Right here, in front of him again, after eleven months and three days of not seeing her. Of only surviving her through old texts and ghost limbs.

His fingers twitch around the cans.

She’s standing like she’s braced for impact, but her eyes finally land all over him: his face, the hoodie she actually wore a few times before when she was waiting for him to come back home, his hand, his left hand. His bare left hand.

“This is weird, right?” Max finally asks, his voice sounding like he hasn’t spoken a single word for weeks.

She lets out a sigh. “A little, yeah,” she agrees, nodding.

And still, neither of them moves.

“You know, I almost didn’t come in,” she admits, fingers curling tighter around her cart. “I was parked outside for, like, ten minutes just sitting there. Because I realized this is your neighborhood and I’d risk seeing you,” she adds quickly.

Max feels his heart racing again before he even understands it. His throat goes dry, and when he speaks, he sounds hurt. “You didn’t want to see me?”

She blinks, startled, like she hadn’t expected the question to come out that way. “No,” she breathes. “No, Max, that’s not what I meant.”

He holds her gaze, and this close, he can see the sheen of emotion swimming in her eyes. There’s no anger in there anymore. Just, maybe, a little ache.

“It’s nice to see you,” she says. “I did want to see you so badly that I almost turned the car around, because I wasn��t sure if I could handle it.”

Max’s chest caves inward, his brows drawn together like the weight of all those lost months just landed right between his ribs. “Well, I think you’re handling it very well,” he jokes, but she doesn’t laugh, which makes his smile fade a little, not knowing if he crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

She looks down for a moment, biting at her kower lip, then back up. “I think you do, too.”

They both go quiet again, surrounded by fluorescent lights and grocery store music and the quiet chatter of other people, but none of it registers. The world has narrowed down to just them in the shortest time, like it always did. Knowing someone so intimately does that to a space, no matter how big or small.

Max rubs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to release the tension lodged there. “Listen, I don’t want to do this here. In front of the cat food and the Goldfish treats.”

His words earn the smallest smile from her, just for a second. “And what is this, exactly?”

He stops, looking around in order to get his thoughts together. “If you’re not busy, I was about to order a pizza for dinner,” Max hesitates, then adds quickly, “I swear, I just want to talk. I just…” he runs a hand over his jaw. “I haven’t been able to say anything that matters in a long time, and I want to. I owe you.”

She swallows, wary. “You don’t owe me anything, Max. Not anymore.”

He shakes his head. “I owe you my time.”

He sees the way her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face, and Max knows she doesn’t understand what he means by that. And he can’t quite tell her that he means all the months he spent with her while only giving her a fraction of himself, because the most part was still buried in grief, clinging to a past he couldn’t change. He means the smiles she gave him that he didn’t return fast enough, the quiet ways she showed up for him while he kept one foot in a world that no longer existed. He means every second he spent being afraid to choose them, and every moment he let that fear win. What he owes her is his precious time, the kind that’s undivided, intentional, and fully present.

The time he should’ve been spending loving her without hesitation. Without conditions.

The time he still hopes to give, if she’ll let him.

THE MOMENT HE turns the key in the lock and nudges the door open, the apartment comes alive with a flurry of soft meows and pattering paws. Jimmy is the first to appear, coming out from the hallway with the usual cheeky air, followed by Sassy, who practically chirps in recognition when she sees that her owner is not alone.

The girl barely has time to step out of her shoes before the cats are circling her feet, tails high, meowing as if they’ve been abandoned for weeks. They don’t hesitate, don’t even sniff to confirm, yet the purring starts instantly, the kind of sound they only made when she used to come home late and curl up with them on the couch. Both cats cling to her like she’s their mother, like home walked back through the door after years of waiting.

Max watches it all unfold, frozen, with the cans stacked on top of the other still in hand.

“Fuckin’ assholes,” he complains under his breath, shutting the door behind him. “The only reason I even left the apartment was because they wouldn’t shut up about being hungry. And now they won’t even look at me,” adds Max, a little irritated.

She looks up with a smirk and gently takes the cans from his hand. “Allow me,” she says with a mock bow, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen with the ease of someone who still remembers exactly where everything is.

Max leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching her open the cabinets to pull out the tiny cat dishes they once picked together at a pet store in Italy. Her movements are fluid, the muscle memory guiding her every gesture; the clink of the spoon against the dish, and the way she splits the food evenly, as if it still matters that Sassy used to pout when Jimmy got more.

The remembering. That’s what gets to him every single time. The way it all looks like she wasn’t away for months. The way his own pets remember her scent and presence — more than that, they crave it. And they’re not the only ones, he figures.

Eventually, Max leaves her to it and goes to order the food he promised, knowing that he will be ignored anyway, at least until the cats eat and get bored of playing. The pizza arrives just as she finishes washing her hands, and they settle on the couch like they’ve done a hundred times before, the box open between them, the cats finally dozing at their feet.

For a moment, the quiet sets peacefully around them and it almost feels like they never fell apart at all. Their legs don’t touch, but the distance isn’t as wide as it used to be. Between bites, their eyes meet, without causing unnecessary tension, just a bittersweet quiet wrapped in intimacy. He watches the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she catches the way he still wipes his fingers on his thighs, like always.

Finishing his second slice, Max finally decides to disturb the peace. “Thanks for giving them some attention,” he says, pointing at the cats that are now back in their donut beds. “They’ve been such jerks lately.”

She glances at the cats, her gaze softening. “You know they treat you like you treat them.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lift. “I’ve been nothing but an endless fountain of joy around them since you left, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile falters the second his sarcasm slips out. And suddenly, the guilt wraps around her ribs like a vice, because she had no idea just how lonely it must have been. She tried to imagine it a few times, sure, but the truth is always harsher.

“Back at the store,” she begins, a little hesitant, “You said it’s been a while since you took it off.”

Max takes a moment before he nods, not immediately meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you… you know,” she says, gesturing at his hand. “I thought that was our agreement.”

He swallows, running his fingers over his jaw, which he often does when he’s struggling to think of the right thing to say. “And say what? Thank you for waiting, I’m ready to finally offer you more than the bare minimum?” he says in a sarcastic tone, shaded by a trace of anger. “You deserve better.”

She doesn’t speak right away. Just watches him with those eyes that always made him feel seen. Like she could read the gaps between his words, without needing anything else but him.

The girl shrugs. “That would’ve been a start,” she says casually, taking the pizza box and putting it on the coffee table in front of them.

Max almost flinches at the thought. It tastes so wrong in his mouth, because he doesn’t want to act as if the time they spent together was just a draft. He wants what they had and what they were. The laughter in the kitchen. Her voice humming in the bathroom. The weight of her body curling toward his in the middle of the night when she thought he was asleep. The way she used to look at him like he wasn’t broken beyond repair.

“I don’t want a start,” he insists. “I want what we left behind.”

Her brows lift slightly, her expression unreadable, but her lips part like she’s about to speak. He beats her to it.

“It’s been fucking awful,” the words come out unfiltered. “Missing you, I mean,” he explains, like the thought has been sitting on his brain for months, maybe since the second she walked out of his life. “Not just in passing. Every day.”

His hand moves without thinking, crossing a distance far greater than the space between them, and when his calloused fingers curl gently around hers, all those months of pain fade somewhere into a distant past. Her skin is just as he remembers, warm and soft like silk. The touch is tender, Max’s thumb brushing the back of her hand like he’s reminding himself that she’s real, and not just a figment of his twisted imagination.

He doesn’t want to go beyond the invisible line they’ve both drawn, but when she squeezes him gently, it’s more than a confirmation. It’s her equally strong desire to return to their own normalcy. And after that, it takes almost nothing, maybe just a look and the smallest shift in the air, and he pulls her in his lap.

Her legs straddle him, fitting there with maddening ease. Her hands wrap around the back of his neck, fingertips threading into his hair, playing with it absentmindedly like it’s second nature.

The sudden closeness forces him to breathe in sharply, inhaling her scent that fans across his lips.

“Max...” she whispers, her face tilting toward his, eyes dropping to his mouth as if kissing him is inevitable.

But he can’t have that. What good thing has ever come so easily in his life? Twice.

Max’s hand presses against her waist to push her away, and his head turns as a response. At that, she stills in his arms, eyes searching his face.

“Liefje?” she whispers again, hurt and confused.

He shakes his head, still avoiding to look at her. “I can’t.”

She frowns. “Why?”

Finally, Max’s eyes flick to hers as he swallows the lump in his throat. The blue in them is dark and faded, and it scares her a little. They’re glassy, full of things he’s never been good at saying out loud. “Because I don’t... I don’t deserve it,” he says, quiet like a confession passed through gritted teeth.

Her hands slide from his neck to either side of his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on her.

“Look at me,” she demands when he tries to look away again, but it sounds almost pleading. She can feel the way his muscles are tense beneath her, how hard he’s trying to stay composed. “You think I’d be here if I didn’t want to?” she asks.

His mouth opens, shuts, then opens again, “How could you possibly still want this?”

Her thumbs brush along his cheekbones, pressing closer, her nose brushing his. “Because you want this,” she replies simply. “I left because I thought you didn’t want us, and that hurt the most.”

Max flinches, “I did,” he nods, “Want us.”

“The ring on your finger told a different story at the time,” she smiles, a trace of sadness shadowing her face.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he says.

She tilts his chin slightly, kissing the corner of his mouth, careful. She understands that, after all, this is their dynamic. She’ll always have to wait for him, one way or another. Do everything at Max’s pace. It may not be ideal, but it has worked in the past, when the tallest walls separated them.

He lets out a trembling breath, arms circling her waist to bring her closer.

“Please,” she whispers, “Let me kiss you.”

This time, his lips crash into hers with a desperate need. Her attempt was soft, but there’s nothing gentle in the way needs her. It’s heat and hunger and all the months of silence and aching compressed into one kiss. His fingers move to cup her face, and he groans against her mouth, finally letting go.

She shifts as the kiss deepens, slowing down until it becomes worshipful.

“I missed you,” he says again.

She smiles through the ache in her chest. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Her hips move unconsciously, but it’s enough for Max to catch her meaning. The girl slides forward and presses down right where he’s already hard beneath her. The friction hits hard between them, and they both still for a moment. Max breathes in through his teeth, and a silent gasp stutters out, all distance suddenly dissolved.

She traces down the curve of his neck, over his collarbones and lower, palms gliding across the fabric of his hoodie. It’s soft and worn, but it hides too much for her liking. So she hooks her fingers underneath it, pushing up, and Max doesn’t stop her. He lifts his arms, helps her peel it off, and the warmth of his skin underneath makes her breath catch in her throat. The muscles of his torso flex as he breathes, tight and lean, built by years of control and discipline.

But right now, he’s giving her none of that control. He just looks at her like he’s ready to rip his heart out and give it to her on a silver platter. With a smile on his face.

Her blouse is next, coming off in a smooth motion. And then, before she can say anything more, he shifts quickly underneath her. In a blink of an eye, he has her on her back, stretched out along the couch, his body poised above hers.

She barely has time to register the change in position before his mouth is back on hers, as possessive as it used to be, like the last kiss wasn’t nearly enough. Max’s lips trail down over her jaw and neck, leaving heat in his wake. Patient, he kisses along the edge of her bra, then he looks up at her. His pupils are blown wide, but there’s still that sliver of restraint behind them.

“Can I?” he asks, a tiny smile blooming in the corner of his mouth, because he already knows the answer.

She nods. “Yes.”

Swiftly, he unclasps her bra and slips it away, tossing it somewhere behind him. His hands slide down her sides as his mouth drops to her chest, breathing her in deeply. The first touch of his tongue on her nipple makes her inhale sharply, her hands flying to his back, gripping and squeezing. Max groans quietly against her skin when she arches up into him, and his hands weld themselves to her thighs to encourage her to wrap her legs around his waist. After that, he changes his position just slightly and grinds down into her, swallowing her whimpers with his mouth still latched onto her breast.

She closes her eyes, allowing herself to feel everything, all at once. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, teasing, sucking, and she pulls him closer and closer by the shoulders, as if she can’t get enough of his weight. His presence. Him.

“Can you stay like this for a sec?” she asks in a trembling voice, the emotion evident in every word. She keeps him pressed down against her with her arms locked around his shoulders before Max can even process. “Just stay here, please.”

He lifts his head to search for her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Then, he kisses between her breasts, and rests his forehead there, listening to her heartbeat decrease in intensity with each passing second. His weight is warm and secure around her, his breathing slowing, too. She brushes his hair back with one hand, and the other strokes his spine.

“I missed you, too,” she finally says. “So much it started making me sick.”

Max’s eyes flutter closed, but he’s content to just listen, offering her the space to speak her mind.

“I had to buy a weighted blanket,” she chuckles shyly. “I couldn’t sleep, either. My anxiety was so bad I felt like I was floating out of my skin.”

Max blinks, then slowly pushes up on his forearms to look at her fully. There’s concern etched into every inch of his face, and he sounds stern when he speaks again, “You never told me it got that bad.”

She shrugs, trying to brush it off. “Didn’t want to make you feel worse. You already blame yourself for everything else.”

His jaw tightens, fingers twitching against her ribs. “That’s for me to worry, right? You should’ve told me.”

With a small sigh, she shakes her head as if it doesn’t even matter anymore. “I’m telling you now.”

Her words settle into the air between them like a sudden change in gravity, and it makes Max still completely. It takes him a second to process what she’s said, and not just the meaning, but the weight of it. That she hurt too. That while he was spiraling in silence, buried in self-loathing and racing to outrun emotions he couldn’t face, she was also falling apart as quietly.

His forehead presses against hers, but this time, the tension in his shoulders give away the war he carries in his mind, the guilt and regret in his soul, the anger, and the fear that he might still mess this up. He chokes on a breath, the kind of harsh inhale you take before something breaks and can’t be stopped.

She can feel him slowly but surely detaching, so she doesn’t hesitate to bring him back to the present moment with her. She kisses him all over, not just his lips. A sweet series of soft, scattered kisses along his cheek, his temple, his nose. His shoulders. His collarbones. She kisses him as if that would cure him of all his guilt, insecurities and self-hatred.

Max lets out a broken laugh, unexpected yet warm, as she keeps going, clumsier now. “That’s how you used to kiss Sassy when you stepped on her paws,” he reminds her. “You didn’t break me, baby,” he assures her. “It’s not your fault.”

The words hang there, heavy with understanding, because he can see she feels guilty, as if his pain is somehow hers to fix. Even now. His heart cracks at the thought of her carrying that weight, but it also warms at her tenderness and the quiet way she’s trying to make everything stop hurting. For both of them.

He sighs. “Maybe we should just finish the food, hm?” Max offers, his tone laced with hesitation, trying to give her an out, without putting too much pressure.

She shakes her head instead, then stares at him for a second. While continuing to maintain eye contact, her hand moves down between them with purpose. The metallic sound of his zipper being undone slices through the air like a whip in an empty room, and Max’s body responds instantly, looking like he’s suddenly struggling to breathe, as she pushes his pants lower over his hips.

“I’m hungry for something else,” she says, smirking at him.

The last of their clothes disappear in a blur of heat and touch, the space between them closing until it’s completely gone, and not a speck of dust can seep in. Their bodies press together, skin on skin, making Max curse under his breath, his hands roaming her waist, thighs, and ribs, remembering the shape of her all over again. After taking the ring off, he convinced himself that being alone and deprived of her entirely was the new punishment. But now, he’s surprised to find out that no amount of penance could ever be worth losing her again.

She gasps when his lips catch her off guard, kissing her deeply, hand sliding south, slipping between silk folds already wet with want.

“Shit,” he whispers through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself. “I forgot how soaked you get from a little nipple play.”

She moans faintly into his mouth, hips lifting with ease toward his touch. His fingers stroke through her slowly, savoring her sounds, while his middle finger presses in. Just the tip, to test her patience and give her all the time in the world to open up for him.

As if he’s under a spell, Max watches her face, completely transfixed. “I swear you’re trying to kill me,” he praises her deliriously, pushing his finger deeper. “You missed this, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” she hums, her nails digging lightly into his back, leaving faint love scratches behind.

At that, he smiles a little smug, and starts pumping his finger with much purpose. He’s on a mission now, intending to relearn every twitch and tiny flinch, because for some reason, making her come like this has become his new life’s purpose. And the fact that she’s obscenely wet, encourages him to keep going, gliding his finger in effortlessly, the slick noises echoing between them like he’s already halfway inside her with his cock instead.

“I fucking missed it, too,” he admits, voice cracking at the way he feels her clenching around him. Every time his finger strokes against that soft, spongy spot inside, her thighs lock around his wrist like Max is her puppeteer, hips canting up, chasing more. “There it is,” he says with satisfaction.

Without pulling away, he eases in another finger, curling them with surgical precision, dragging against that same spot until she’s shaking. Her tiny gasps turns into broken moans, high and breathless, her palms squeezing his shoulders harder. Max starts scissoring them in the way he knows it’ll make her see stars, stretching her open, happy to watch her squirm and melt because of him.

“Want me to keep going until you can’t think straight?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is just another pathetic whimper. Her slick coats his knuckles, dripping down his palm, earning a low hum from Max while driving his fingers faster.

“So tight and desperate,” he says mostly to himself. “Let me see you,” his thumb finds her clit, rubbing delicious circles as his fingers keep fucking up into her, stretching her sweetly.

Her reaction is immediate: her whole body jerks, thighs quivering as her pussy fights to hold him in, harder than before.

“Max,” she tries to warn him in a shaky voice.

He doesn’t even hesitate. Instead, he pulls his fingers out and dives in on instinct, burying his face between her thighs like a man starved. His tongue replaces where his fingers had just been, fucking into her with messy, greedy strokes. Max grips her thighs, making sure to groan loudly into her, wanting her to hear exactly how much he’s enjoying this. She keens, hands flying to his hair as he eats her out with a kind of reckless devotion that leaves her gasping for air.

Her orgasm crashes over her with an unexpected loud cry. Her hips arch off the couch, body convulsing as she soaks his face, a warm flood dripping down his chin and onto the cushion beneath him. Max agrees satisfied, like he lives for this, licking her through it until she’s shuddering and whimpering and very much not thinking straight, trying to push him away from overstimulation.

He pulls back with a glossy mouth, chin dripping, and eyes blown wide. That clear blue has finally returned, contrasting beautifully against the bright pink of his flushed face. His hair is a mess, and he’s breathing hard like he just came. She wishes she could paint him like that, but she knows that no brush would ever do justice to the beauty she sees in him.

“My god, Max,” she laughs, still breathless, reaching up to pull him toward her. She wipes his chin with her palm, eyes half-lidded, before tugging him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. “You’re such a show-off.”

He smirks, resting his forehead to hers. “Well, I am a professional.”

“Oh yeah?” she teases, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Did they add that as part of your pre-race routine?”

Max shrugs with a deceptively serious expression on his face. “Helps with focus. And finger control.”

The girl chuckles. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re perfect,” he replies quickly, leaning in to finish their kiss.

His lips are soft and plumped, and they give her the second she needs to breathe before the air shifts. Max’s hand cups her cheek, and when he looks at her, his voice drops, eyes filled with a tamed concern.

“You okay?” he asks, the kind of okay that means are you still with me?

It’s the care behind his voice that gets to her. The one that she only saw a couple of times in him, when Max really let her see the purest version of him. The version that’s not on any screen, nor the version that walks out the door everyday to go to work. This Max is too soft, afraid, and weak. Or so people would say if they’d know.

She finds it hard to speak, instead, she reaches down, fingers curling around his cock. She nudges the thick head through her folds, dragging it up and down in maddening passes, not letting him in, just coating it in the mess he made of her. It’s a sweet tease, a challenge, and a bit of revenge from her side, that gets the expected reaction out of him: Max whines, and his hips twitch in anticipation.

But before she can do it again, he bucks forward just enough to slip between her lips. Not inside. Just there. Nestled. Pressed. Bothering.

“Shit,” she gasps at the drag of his cock against her folds. Is too much already, yet not enough, her body betraying her before she can play it cool.

Max laughs at her failed attempt, dragging himself up her slit again, slow and sticky. “What do you think you’re doing, schatje?”

She moans, frustrated. “Nothing.”

He keeps going, rubbing himself through her wetness, teasing her entrance, but never pushing in. After all, she just showed him how to, didn’t she? It’s punishment for both of them, his cock is throbbing, coated in her, and every pass just winds them tighter.

“You feel that?” asks Max in a quiet whisper. “That’s how much you want me,” he continues, finally pushing in. The stretch is sweet, tight and wet and warm, and the moment he’s fully inside, everything goes still. He lets out a relieved sigh, his head dropping to her shoulder, “And this is how much I want you.”

Perfection in just the right amount. Being inside her like this shuts his brain off and, soon enough, the silence inside his skull becomes addictive.

The first thrust feels like coming home.

The second thrust brings all the memories back.

The third thrust makes her eyes roll, her hands clutching at his arms, hips trying to chase every retreat he makes.

Max has to grip her tighter to keep her in place, and gently pushes her thighs apart wider. He watches the way she spreads, how easily she welcomes him, and it lights something heavy in him, but also devastatingly tender. It pushes him to slide in again and again, deeper and deeper, and the sound she lets out has the power to knock the breath out of his lungs.

It’s not difficult to find their rhythm. That perfect pace that makes it feel less like fucking and more like a love language only they understand. Every push and pull is a new promise. Every moan, a certainty that they will keep those promises this time. As the pleasure builds, they understand it’s more than that. It’s healing. With every stroke and every breathless sound between them, they’re stitching something back together. Something they thorned and fractured because they didn’t know better, now is slowly mending, making them stronger than they’ve ever been.

Max fucks her like he’s never going to get another chance to be this whole again. Like this is the last time it’ll ever hurt, and the first time they’re finally allowed to live. Their bodies slap together, the sounds echoing like music against the walls; it’s hot, thirsty, a song made by them, just for them. He keeps her open, holding her thighs in place because he wants to see all of it. The way she takes him. The way she glistens for him. The way she gives herself so fully, without flinching. And if she can do that — if she can give him this —, then maybe he’s not broken beyond repair.

He fucks into her harder, hips slamming and claiming. It’s like his darkest side cracked open and poured out all the ugly through need, hope, love, all tangled in sweat and skin and moans and and and.

“Fuck, Max. Yes, you feel so good,” her praise makes him sob, hips jerking like he’s being praised for something holy.

He leans down to kiss her, but they’re both too far gone. It ends up being just open mouths, shared breath, moans between lips that can’t quite meet, not with how their bodies are still colliding, over and over.

“Mine,” Max spits out breathless, as he feels her start to tighten around his cock, fluttering repeatedly like her body is begging to fall apart with him.

Her hands curl around his biceps in order to be able to meet his thrusts halfway, nails digging in. “All yours,” she wails.

He shifts her legs higher around his waist, his hand sliding beneath her knee to angle her just right, and when he thrusts again, her whole body jolts. “Right there?” he asks, watching her eyes closing shut, her mouth falling open. “Ja, that’s it. That’s how my baby needs it.”

Her entire body shakes with pleasure, panting with every thrust as he drives into her with a need that’s no longer just physical. It’s every moment he missed her, every second he hated himself for letting her walk away, instead of ripping that ring off his hand, finger and all.

Max’s voice breaks against her skin, “You have any idea what you did to me for eleven months?”

She nods, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Of course you do,” Max smiles into her neck, maintaining the pace, sweat dripping from his brow as her walls spasm around him, pulling him deeper. “You know I jerked off to the thought of you every night,” he continues, the confession nearly unraveling him. “Couldn’t touch anyone else because your pretty face was everywhere I looked.”

Her fingers slide into his hair, pulling gently. “My good boy,” she purrs, and the sound he makes in response is feral, like it strips him down to his most basic instinct.

Max cries out, thrusts faltering for a second before he slams into her harder. “Say that again,” he demands in a pleading voice.

“You’re my good boy,” she whispers, then kisses his cheek, smiling as he loses himself a little more. “You always were.”

The words wreck him. He breathes wetly into her neck, almost embarrassed by how much he needs to hear it, and how much he actually craves being her good boy. Beneath his though exterior, there’s always been a constant need to belong to someone entirely. Not out of weakness, but out of a desire to be seen and chosen. To be loved, treasured, and protected like he mattered. Because as a kid, those things came rarely, if ever. And though Max learned to survive without them, part of him never stopped longing for that kind of love. The kind he once found and lost, the kind he almost recklessly pushed away. The kind she gave him, without asking for anything but his love in return.

“I didn’t let anyone else touch me, either,” she continues, breathless but determined to let him know, her fingers now tracing down his spine. “Told every guy that hit on me I had a boyfriend waiting for me at home. Did I lie, Maxie?”

He moans louder, his body surging forward like something inside him just snapped. His thrusts grow rougher, driven by the need to prove her right. To remind her that she is, indeed, his, and no one else can ever make her feel this way.

“No,” replies Max. “You’re mine,” he pants, “My little kitten, ja?”

She laughs, half-sob, half-moan, body shaking as she clings to him.

Somehow, his lips find her breast again, latching onto her nipple like it’s instinct. He sucks on it a little rough, making her head bury further into the couch cushion with a soft whimper. She’s obsessed with The Feel of Max — his weight, the way he pushes into her and how his skin presses into hers, the sound of his breath against her chest. Every cell in her body burns for him, a deep fire that’s been waiting to reignite since the moment she did one of the hardest things: removing herself from her heart, because she had to choose herself for once.

His left hand reaches for hers blindly, pulling her out of the dreamy state she’s fell into. Max threads their fingers together and pins them above her head against the cushions. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she clutches his hand tighter, her stomach flipping with emotion. Her eyes fly open, not from surprise but from the intensity of it and how light it is. It’s impossible not to feel the difference; that tiny missing weight that used to sit there like a wall between them.

Max notices the shift in how she exhales, in the way her body clings to his. He doesn’t ask, but he knows.

“I see you,” he says. “I fucking see you, baby.”

She sobs out a sigh, something between a moan and an overwhelmed yes.

“You feel so good. So good, my love,” repeats Max again and again, like he can’t say it enough. “I’m never letting anything come between us, I swear.”

His honesty is poured into every thrust, every kiss against her jaw, her mouth, her neck and shoulder. Everything she needed to hear, he’s saying now, as if he finally realizes that she’s been waiting. And he knows she believes him. He feels it. Feels it in the way her walls flutter around his length faster, needier. Sees how her hips lift to meet his and how her chest expandes rapidly.

Her stomach coils tight, pleasure rising sharp inside her, “Max, if you don’t shut up,” she cries, “I’m gonna fucking come all ov—”

He laughs softly against her lips, silencing her, but he doesn’t stop. “Make a mess for me then,” he encourages her, thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ve got you.”

He does. He always did.

With Max’s name on her tongue, his hand in hers, and every part of her clinging to him like gravity isn’t ever going to be enough again, she lets go. Her climax sends him spiraling, soaking everything, from the couch to his thighs and cock, with the kind of release that leaves no question how much she needed him. He wraps one arm around her waist in order to keep himself present as he shoves in deep one last time and stills, body shaking.

“Fuuuck,” Max chokes, forehead falling to her collarbone.

His cock throbs as he empties himself into her, her body welcoming every drop from him. His heart is hammering against her ribs, and he needs to breathe her in a few times before lifting his head, eyes glazed as they drop to where their bodies are still connected.

The sight nearly makes him come again.

Her thighs are trembling, spread wide, their slick mixed with his cum, smeared across her skin and his cock and the ruined couch. It’s absolute chaos, and he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Satisfied, he collapses onto her fully, letting his weight sink into her just like he knows she needs. The girl sighs, breath tickling his temple, her hands finding his arms, scratching soft patterns along his skin. Goosebumps rise in waves, but Max doesn’t move. He just melts into her, letting her touch soothe him.

Her body acts before her brain has time to process. Gently, she lifts his hand and presses her lips to each knuckle. One by one. Then soft pad beneath his thumb. His palm, and the faint scar across it. She remembers how he caught the knife by the blade that night, and all the blood that spilled into the sink.

“Come home,” he whispers, voice cracking from the effort of saying it aloud. “Please.”

When there’s no answer, Max’s hands grip her waist, but he can’t find the strength to get up and look at her.

“Please,” he repeats. “I want to cook for you. Fight with you over stupid shit. Watch you fall asleep on this couch again. Just… let me love you right, baby.”

She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. Max’s scent clings to her skin, to her hair, to the air around them, and that mix of sweat and sex drives her insane. It’s in the crook of her neck, on the inside of her thighs, behind her knees, soaked into her very inhale and exhale. It’s impossible to tell where she ends and he begins.

“What did you do with the ring?”

Max stills. Not the soft kind of stillness that comes from rest after sex, but the rigid kind, where his muscles lock and his breath stops short, like her words caught him mid-step somewhere deep inside himself. And unfortunately, she feels it in the way his touch pauses, not pulling away, but no longer moving forward either.

Her heart sinks into her stomach.

She hadn’t meant it to feel like an ambush, or a test she didn’t even want the answer to in the first place. But the silence stretches just long enough that fear creeps in. And her mind is relentless, thoughts flying around, mean and uninvited: It still means something to him. Maybe more than you ever will.

But then Max’s voice cuts through all that, pushing all the dark clouds aside.

“I gave it back to her,” he says. “Took it to her grave and—”

“I’m sorry,” she cuts him off, fighting the tears in her eyes. She reaches to cradles his face in her hand, thumb sweeping gently across his cheek. His skin is warm beneath her touch, his stubble coarse. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

It’s his turn to interrupt her this time. “It’s okay,” Max assures her. “You were right. I needed to let it go if I wanted to be here. With you. It’s just… I am sorry it took so long.”

“No,” the girl shakes her head. “We can’t get mad at time for doing its thing,” she says gently.

Max’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t realize how badly he needed to hear that until it lands in him, like puzzle pieces falling into place. His eyes drift, settling on the digital clock glowing faintly on the wall. At the same time yesterday, he was lying in a cold bed, silence drilling through his ears louder than anything else. Swallowed whole by a grief so dark it didn’t even feel like sadness anymore. It was just a big hole of nothing.

A day later, he’s pressed against her, inside her, held by her. Breathing the same air as her.

Even though she didn’t say yes yet, even though he still has troubles sleeping, he’s content with the fact that the clock has reset itself for him. And for the first time since he got that call, he’s at peace.

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