#had this idea while going home from work and chuckled

[the-void-via]

Coming Home To Your Comfort Blanket

Fluff headcannons/drabble, Mateo Manta (Date Everything!) x reader

Heart divider by @enchanthing , Mateo divider by me!

It was hard finding a new job after getting basically laid off and experiencing a whirlwind of affection and friendship around your own house, with your surprise gift of the Dateviators.

But if things haven't gone that way, you never would've met the absolute love of your life, Mateo.

The personification of your favorite lap blanket, he turned out to be the sweetest man you'd ever met. It was no wonder you'd fallen head over heels for him.

He was almost lonely whenever you went to work after you got your new job, but the inanimals kept him company while you were away

You came home stressed, a lot

And it hurt him to see you that way, so he had an idea for the next time you came home

"Mateo?" Your voice rang out in the foyer, slipping off your coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. You said a quick hello to Dorian as he closed and locked the door behind you, trudging into the living room where your beloved normally was.

"Huh...baby?" You call out again, wandering into the kitchen to see Freddy talking to–

"Betty?" You tilt your head. "I don't wanna sound mean, but, what are you doing down here?"

She turned to you and gave you a soft smile, while Freddy gave you a toothy grin.

"It's alright, sweetie," She chuckled. "Mateo just asked me to watch in inanimals for a while, so I was talking to Freddy for what they eat."

You blink, somewhat surprised. Mateo never wanted to leave his little friends alone, but now he asked Betty to watch over them for a while?

"Oh," You mumbled, rubbing your sore neck. "Well- where is he now?"

"He should be upstairs in the bedroom," Betty twirled a lock of her hair on her finger. "He was gathering a lot of blankets, but he wouldn't tell me why."

"It's gotta be something for you, cool kid," Freddy beamed, patting your shoulder firmly, yet gently. "You've been working super hard lately, it's about time you took a rest."

You sigh a little bit and nod, bidding them goodbye before turning away and trudging upstairs, yawning and running your hand though your hair.

You enter the bedroom to find Mateo setting out blankets and pillows on your bed, too absorbed in his work to notice you entering the room. Until he goes to grab more pillows from the closet to put out, spotting you as he turns around. He suddenly smiles, quickly moving to set down the pillows and nearly run towards you, enveloping you in a soft hug.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," He hums, leaning back to press a kiss to your cheek. "I must've lost track of time, I wasn't ready yet."

You smile softly and tilt your head at the blankets and pillows pilled up on your bed. "What's all this for?" You blink. "Oh- it's not like, an anniversary or something? I-I must've forgotten, been too busy-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Mateo gently cuts you off, gently taking your hands in his. "I just...wanted to give you a little break." He chuckled softly. "You've been working really hard, and according to Betty, you haven't slept well recently."

Your face flushes a little. Damn you, Betty.

"O-oh. Well- I-" You try to speak, but Mateo cuts you off again.

"You need to relax and get some sleep," He says softly, nuzzling his face against your cheek. "You don't have work tomorrow, right? You can afford to get some rest, mi vida."

Your eyebrows furrow, "But- I-"

"Please?" He pulls you into a hug again. "With me? Just for a little while?"

Your hands scramble to grab onto his back, and you let out a soft sigh as you melt into his embrace. His arms tighten just slighrly around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

He could tell he won you over.

"Alright," You finally sighed out. "I'll lay down and take a nap with you."

"Perfect," Mateo leaned back and kissed your forehead, then grabbed your hands and gently led you over to your bed. "Lay down, I'll go close the door."

You stretched and laid down on the bed, watching Mateo close all the doors and turn the lights off. He smiled as he turned back to you, climbing into bed with you.

You both laid down on your sides, and Mateo practically wrapped you up in blankets, afterwards wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you," He whispered to you, one hand petting your hair. "Sleep well, mi vida."

"Love you too..." You mumbled out before you closed your eyes, drifting off to the sound of Mateo's heartbeat in your ears.

Tags: @fleeting-starshower @blak-ie @blackcat2907 @drowning-in-cabbages @veiled-luminosity @kyl13sm1l3y @darkluminosity @tremendoustragedybard (lmk if you wanna be tagged or not when I post about my oc's!)

[loversrocktvgirl2]

Hiii Mari!!!(can I call you that?)

Ugh I have so many ideas in my brain🥲

But what about Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony (+anyone else you might wanna add) with an s/o who's got adhd? Not the like, "extroverted" 24/7 adhd, but where they js get random bursts of talkative adhd and stuff?

Or, another separate little idea, them with an s/o who's uncomfortable with alcohol? I feel like its a bit of an interesting concept with Tony cuz he's had plenty of moments where he's drinking in the mcu

Those are the only two I'll bother you with for now until random thouvhts come to me again<3

Please remember to take breaks, have a bite to eat, drink water, and have a nap when you need it!!!<3<3<3 appreciate you<3<3<3

(*noms you lovingly<3*)

gahhhhhhhhh I am so very sorry that it took me this long to write this (21 days is like three weeks so oopsies) but yes here it is

i did not write the alcohol prompt, i don’t have a lot of experience with alcohol honestly lol

and yeah, you can call me mari!! that’s cute as hell

my mini multiverse of madness…

ADHD Headcannons (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony)

word count: 0.6k+

masterlist

Steve 

Steve is a patient soul. He is a thinker and a listener first, and it’s only when he’s perfectly worded a response that he decides to speak. Everything that he does, no matter how impulsive it may seem, has had a lot of his thoughts poured into it. And when he hears you ramble, random and excited, it surprises him. And he loves listening to it. 

He is so on board for every little thing you’re into. You got super into cars and he started leaving F1 on on the TV until you started watching it and learning all about it. He’d figured you’d like it. And you ramble about it, explain every little rule and detail and decision, and Steve listens carefully, like he has all of the time in the world and nothing he’d rather be doing. 

When you move on, he’s unbothered. Next phase it is!

 Bucky 

Bucky is brooding and quiet. Also a huge literature nerd. When he gets into things, he thinks about them constantly, yet he never shares them with anybody. Then he gets to know you. And damn, it’s so fun!! You ramble and share and tell him about the things you’re into, and he gets invested. You started watching this cop show, and he’s never seen a single episode. But when he gets home from work, he expects a full recap from you, and he’s invested now. 

You eventually convince him to share more about the stuff that he’s into, so he compiles a list of a bunch of his favorite books and some things on his to be read and together, you start a two person bookclub.

You get into his books and the two of you go on tangents about what different things mean. It’s his very favorite thing. 

Sam

Sam is loud and rambunctious and playful. He shares and he listens already. But he loves it when you get going talking about something. He jokes that there’s little buzzwords that no one knows that get you rambling about something. One time, he mentioned the words “ten dollar” and you got on a rant about Hamilton. He listened very intently, very amused, for about five minutes, and then couldn’t help but chuckle.

He now has a list of buzzwords on the notes app on his phone and you cannot fight me on this.

Sam playfully teases you a bit about this, but he genuinely doesn’t mind, and he knows what you’re sensitive about and is careful to avoid that when he’s gently teasing you about things. 

Overall, though, Sam is a very sweet, funny, playful, and endearing guy and he is more than happy to listen to you rant. 

Tony

Tony, honestly? He’s the same damn way. 

You both just get very talkative randomly and you’re both extremely sarcastic. You both get very intense hyperfixations and it’s all you can think about. It drives everybody else freaking crazy because, while you do handle Tony better than anyone else on the planet, you are also shockingly alike. 

One time, Tony had the gall to ask Steve, “is that what I act like?” after you showed them your diorama of the music industry. It made Steve laugh and nod enthusiastically, “yes!” Tony chuckled, and insisted that it was much more endearing coming from you. 

When the two of you both got hyper fixated on this one specific robot model though? HOLY HELL.

Fury laughed and said, “if only I could get you two to work like that on half the S.H.I.E.L.D. missions.”

You two are adorable. 

taglist@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

[bellysoupset]

Congratulations

This comes directly after this fic, where Max got sick from his lunch around Leo.

--------------

"Oh no," Wendy giggled, curled up next to Max on the couch, her head thrown back and a blush devouring her cheeks, climbing up from her blouse's cleavage, kissing her neck and ears.

He felt proud of himself for making her laugh like that, even if it was at his expense.

Max was sitting next to her, Wendy's heat pad pressed to his stomach, having just told her with no shortage of expletives just how awesome lunch had been.

"You've got the worst luck known to man, Max," Wendy's shoulders continued to shake and she dug her feet on the cushion, hiding them under his thigh to warm them up, "I can't believe Leo threatened to uninvite you."

"Right?" He scoffed, resting his elbow on her knee, "but he didn't, so you'll just have to put up with me at the wedding."

"I bet you're an obnoxious drunk," Wendy rolled her eyes, "loud and full of horrible ideas."

"I'm an angel," he grinned at her, "have I told you about the first time I got wasted and how I was arrested for the first tim-"

"Aw, I owe Bella twenty bucks," Wendy interrupted him with a pout and Max looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Pardon me?"

"Bell bet you had done time before," Wendy's nose wrinkled in an adorable manner and he turned fully on his side so he could plant his other arm also on top her knee, his chin resting on his crossed forearms, "I said you were all bark, but no bite."

"Rude?!" Max chuckled, pinching her calf and making Wendy squeal and try to move away, but his arm on top of her knee kept her put, "what the fuck, Wendy! Well, I didn't do time, so I guess you were both wrong."

"You didn't?" She perked up, curiosity coloring her words, "...So? Are you gonna tell me?!"

"First time I got arrested I was drunk and I got a little too in the face of a cop, who got called at a house party I was at. It was during college, I was just old enough to drink, dude didn't believe my ID and I already didn't like cops, so-" Max shrugged, smiling as he reminisced on the memory, "second time was political. I was part of a group protesting for the environment, while I was on work break, in Portland. I got held for two days, though, that was all. I don't think you need to pay Bell up."

Wendy's face was clouded with curiosity, but instead of asking anything else, she leaned in and poked his belly, "how's your stomach?"

In truth, Max had been feeling better from the minute the finished getting sick. His gut might hate him, but at least it wasn't vicious, only wanted the offending items out. Nevertheless, Wendy had been so quick to baby him when he got to her building, he had leaned on it more than he should've.

"I'm fine," he squeezed her hand, pressing the heat pad further to his belly, "just allergic to fun, it seems."

"Or to Leo. I wouldn't blame you," Wendy teased, then sprung up from the couch as if she had been tasered as the front door opened. Max snorted at that, figuring Wen had forgotten for a split second Vince was coming home.

As soon as he turned his head to look at the other man, Max's eyebrows jumped up.

Vince's usual easy going smile was gone, instead replaced by a purposeful frown. Not the occasional resting bitch face that his dark strong brows could cause, but a real frown.

Max's smile fell as he wondered if maybe his presence there, alone with Vin's girlfriend, was the cause behind such a mean mug.

Wendy looked just as confused as Max, "uh... Hello?"

"Hi," Vince's voice was gruff as he removed his jacket and kicked off his boots. Wendy looked over her shoulder, confused, and Max shrugged.

"Everything okay...?" Max gauged, biting nervously on the skin of his thumb. At the same time as he said that, Wendy asked:

"How was the evening with the guys?"

Vin shrugged, "fine," he rubbed his face, squinting at the entry rug, "I don't feel well, I'm gonna lie down."

Oh.

Relief washed over Max. That explained it, at least Vin wasn't mad at him, just sick. Poor dude.

"Not well? How so?" Wendy questioned, skipping ahead so she could cup her boyfriend's cheeks, "you're a little warm, were you in the sun?"

That could be it, Vince's cheeks sure were pink and he seemed sweaty, although that could just be clamminess. Max got up too, so he could shadow over Wen, as if he was of any help when compared to a doctor.

"I was out playing so yeah," Vin's whole face scrunched up as he winced again, eye rolling Wendy's conjecture, "I just have a headache and feel gross. I'm gonna go lie down."

Max let out a snort, it was weirdly amusing to see Vince act like such an ass, for a minute there he had all but forgotten of how the other man had acted the first time they met. Vin could be such a dick.

"Okay..." Wendy pulled back, seeming unsure of what to do, "do you need anything?"

"No, I-" Vince interrupted himself, cheeks puffing out with a soft burp and he rubbed his chest in an uneasy manner, "just gotta sleep it off..."

Wendy nodded, stepping to the side as Vince moved further in. He passed by Max, offering him a tight lipped, forced, smile, "hi Max," his voice was all gruff and he moved away before the blonde could answer.

Thirty seconds later he heard the bedroom door opening and closing, loudly.

"...That was weird," Max said and Wendy nodded enthusiastically.

"He's never acted like that," she chewed on her lip, "probably is just the headache."

"Probably," Max conceded, thinking that Vince seemed a little green around the gills, but opting for staying quiet. If his girlfriend wasn't mother henning then-

"He seemed a little queasy, didn't he?" Wendy wondered, out loud, walking to the kitchen and he followed her like a shadow. For some reason that Max couldn't quite pinpoint, she sounded elated. Weirdo. Cute.

He watched as she moved around her small kitchen, filling up a water bottle, fishing out a bowl, moving out of the room to retrieve some towels- Max hung awkwardly at the door threshold as Wendy entered the dark bedroom and sat on the corner of the mattress, Vince a lump under covers.

"Honey," Wendy whispered, eliciting a grunt as response. The hallway light was spilling inside the room, bathing half of Wen's face in gold and outlining Vince's form beneath the blankets. He took up so much of the bed, Max chewed on his lip as he tried to visualize Wendy in it as well.

"I know your head hurts," Wendy continued to speak in a low voice, running her fingers through his curls, "but I want you to take some meds, okay? Then you can sleep."

Not an hour before she had been using that exact same tone with him, fussing as she pushed pepto in his hands and all but shoved Max to the couch despite him being much taller.

Vince let out another groan, then there was some shuffling around as Wendy fed him the singular tylenol pill and a gulp of water, tucking the covers around him as Vin collapsed back against the pillows.

"We'll be in the living room," Wen leaned in, planting a kiss on her boyfriend's temple, "holler if you need me."

Max could almost hear Vin's not verbalized "stay". Although he never said it, he curled up further, a hand wrapped around Wendy's wrist and keeping her in place, before she could get up. Max let out a snort, crossing his arms and leaning even more against the doorway, thumping his head against the wood as he watched a blush crawl up Wen's cheeks and her steal a glance in his direction.

He felt like a voyeur, knowingly intruding into an intimate moment but unable to look away.

Wendy didn't have the heart to pull away, so she stayed put, continuing to pet Vin's hair with the hand that wasn't trapped by his grip.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost good thirty minutes later as she managed to unhook her hand from Vin's tight grip and pulled the door ajar behind her, "I'm being a terrible host."

"No, you're not," Max rolled his eyes, glancing past her shoulder and into the dark bedroom. Vince was snoring away, louder than usual and Max felt embarrassed that he knew just how the other man was supposed to sound. What weird information to have filed away.

"Yes, I am," Wendy scoffed, planting her hands on his arm and pushing Max down the hall, "you were telling me about your big bad criminal career."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, rushing to cover his mouth and glancing nervously backwards, just in case they had woken Vin up. Wendy froze too. A snore. Both their shoulders dropped in relief and Max quietly giggled, "it was incredibly short lived," he promised, falling back on the couch and feeling his stomach fill up with butterflies as Wendy resumed to her original position, curling up next to him, green eyes sparkling with curiosity as he said, "but my arsonist career had just started."

He didn't feel the time passing at all as they jumped from topic to topic. From his harmless arson days, to college, to her career — Wendy's voice went up a whole note as she explained just why she had picked neurology and how her supervision worked. Her phone gallery was almost a crime scene, a thousand pictures that were just guts and brains and she nearly draped herself over his knee as she explained every single one with glee.

Max was trying not to laugh too loudly as he heard Wendy tell him just how her residency had worked during college days and dumb shit they had been forced to deal with.

"Gynecology was a trip," she groaned, although her eyes had a manic glint, "you cannot imagine the amount of people who are having sex without knowing what they're doing. The crazy stuff I'd hear during my clinic hours...' she shuddered, "at least I only did rotations there for the mandatory three months. Had a lady come in wondering how she was pregnant because they had been using protection and when I asked for clarification I saw the burst condom around her wrist like a fucking bracelet-"

"You're joking," Max wailed, "you're fucking with me!"

"Oh, I wish! I haven't even told you about the orthopedics supervisor-"

"He used to sleep and let the residents run amuck," Vince's voice, still deep from sleep, interrupted. Wendy perked up, tilting her head back with a smile as Vin pressed a kiss to the top of her head, standing behind the couch.

He was terribly pale, redness around his eyes and nose. Dark circles that had no business being there.

"How are you feeling, dude?" Max asked, carefully pulling back his legs. Somehow they had ended up on Wen's lap, her hands clutching at the hem of his pants, fingers ghosting over the scar he sported on his ankle from the fatidic hiking trip.

"Gross," Vince admitted, "ashamed. I was rude earlier, I'm sorry."

Max rolled his eyes, waving him away, "you're a dick, I've known," he teased and Vince's cheeks turned red as he circled the couch and collapsed on the armchair that was next to it.

"How's the headache?" Wendy moved so she was on her knees on the rug, before her boyfriend, peering at his face since he had hunched over.

"Better..." Vince sounded small, clearly embarrassed and still in pain, "I was such an asshole earlier, I'm so-"

"Aw, my poor baby," Wendy's voice went up a gleeful note, half amused, half teasing, as she planted a bunch of kisses all over his face, using Vin's knee to push herself up, "you're not feeling well, that's alright..."

Vince muffled a groan against her chest as Wendy kissed his temple, hugging her by the middle. Max opened an entertained grin, noticing how Wendy seemed to have cuteness aggression as her hands clasped her boyfriend's shoulders and she pulled him to her, almost melting them together.

Vince stayed in that position for a minute too long and Wen turned her head to look at Max, her chin pressed to the top of her boyfriend's head, mouthing silently, "such a baby."

Then suddenly the other man pulled back, all but punching himself as he pressed a hand to his lips and muffled a wet, frothy burp. His face had gone from the previous milky white, straight into grey-green territory. He stayed very still, breathing slowly, and Wendy remained frozen, arms up in the air from how Vince had pushed her away.

"Vin?"

Max sprung up, running back to the bedroom as he remembered the bowl Wendy had left there. He crawled over the thrown blankets and grabbed it off the floor, rushing back to the living room.

Vince hadn't moved, despite the fact Wendy had been trying to usher him up. His eyes were squeezed shut, perspiration covering his skin and Max all but fell as he tripped, plating the bowl in front of him.

"Here," he panted and Vince took it, hand all clammy as it brushed with Max's. He leaned over it, opening his mouth and drooling, causing the blonde to wrinkle his nose with disgust and sympathy.

"Aw, man," he straightened up, meeting Wendy's worried gaze and planting a hand on Vince's back. He was drenched in sweat and only then did Max realize he was for sure sporting a fever, "you're sick sick," he diagnosed.

Vince answered him with a groan, followed by an empty heave. Wendy sighed, pulling back his hair, "honey, let it up, you'll feel better..."

"Try-Eeurph- Trying..." He hiccupped mid sentence, then let out a whine and folded even more, pressing the bowl's edge to his forehead. Wendy let out a little frustrated sigh.

Max thought of back in Vince's house, months before, when he had been called to the rescue by a scared sounding Sophia. Clearly illness took the most out of Vin.

"That's okay," Wen cooed, continuing to rub his back, "take your time."

Vince lowered the bowl to his mouth once more, forcing up a little burp and a splash of thick saliva. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

It seemed to go on for the longest time, Vince bringing up little more than miserable belches and globs of thick saliva, all but rocking in his seat. His whole face was scrunched up and Wendy's easy going smile from before had vanished, concern clouding her face.

"Dude," Max sighed, thumping Vince's back as the other man dry heaved for the 10th time, unable to vomit, "I think you might just be empty..."

"No," Wendy voiced Vin's thoughts as he shook his head, "let's move him to the bathroom, c'mon."

Happy to be given a task he could actually help with, Max wrapped an arm around Vince's waist and pulled him up. Immediately his back burned, shoulders getting stiff as he tried to manhandle the much heavier man.

"C'mon, Monacelli, help me here," Max grunted, stumbling and nearly falling as he maneuvered Vin into the guest bathroom. Vince was considerably taller than him, so as he lost his footing, both of them went down inside the room.

In his attempt to not collapse, Max grabbed on the towel holder and ended up bringing it down alongside them, falling on the ground with a metallic CLAnk!

"Max!?" Wendy rushed in after them, now holding a can of ginger ale, eyes wide as she took in the scene, "oh my God, what-"

"Tripped," Max groaned, managing to wiggle from under Vin and push him sitting up in front of the toilet, wincing as his ass ached from how they had fallen, "your- Uh, your thingy fell, I'm sorry-" he gestured to the cute curtain holder with a golden bunny on each side of it.

Wendy rolled her eyes, "that's a piece of shit, don't worry about it," she promised, "fell with me too the other day."

Max shrugged, relieved, planting it on the ground and then turning his attention towards Vin once more. The other man had draped himself over the toilet, drooling as he seemed unable to shut his mouth.

"Hon," Wendy got down next to his, cupping Vin's cheek, "Vin, I got you a drink, I want you to chug it, alright? It'll help you be sick."

Max raised his eyebrows, wasn't that a bad idea? Shouldn't they try to not make Vince sick...?

He caught Wen's eyes and she shrugged, "he's not gonna rest until the nausea eases," she explained, opening the can and pushing it against Vin's lips, "big gulps, Vin."

Without so much as a complaint, Vince obeyed, chugging three large gulps — Then his chest jostled with a deep, wet burp and Max rushed up, grabbing Vin's face and making him aim at the toilet just in time for a torrent of sick to hit the water, instead of Wendy's lap.

"There you go," Wendy sighed, thumping her boyfriend's back, "bring it up, honey."

Max cringed at the violent heaves and gags that followed, his own stomach churning with sympathy nausea. He didn't typically get sick from sight or smell, but his belly suddenly felt tender, reminiscing on his own puking episode from before.

"Hey, blondie," Wendy snapped her fingers at him, noticing how pale Max looked and how he gulped the saliva in his mouth, "get out of here, I got him."

He shook his head, standing up in order to spit on the sink and splash some water on his face, "I'm fine, just- Just caught me off guard..." Max promised, not wanting to step away as he felt like he was being of some help.

"Uh-hum," Wendy rolled her eyes, throwing him an amused smile, just as Vin let out a groan and pulled back, resting his forehead on the porcelain.

"Fuck..." Vin's voice was several octaves too deep, "fuck..."

"Are you feeling any better?" Max asked, hopefully, causing Wen to snort at his silly question. Vince spat in the water, then shook his head and leaned back, collapsing against the bathroom wall and curling up, an arm wrapped around his stomach.

"M'freezing..." He whined, "everything hurts."

"Congratulations," Wendy sighed, flushing the toilet, as Max wet the hand towel he had been clutching, getting back down so he could wipe at Vin's chin, "you got the flu."

"Yay," Vince groaned, his head lolling, brown eyes meeting Max's with surprisingly intensity, "Jonah's gonna be elated."

"We'll quarantine," Wendy answered, sounding equally defeated, "shit."

[mmikelewatt]

Dreaming

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[miyaz6ki]

☆ wearing their clothes

synopsis. seeing s/o wearing their clothes for the first time :) (like shirts/sweatshirts or jackets/coats :pensive:)

the blade has spoken. erm... first draft being posted... i feel a little nervous after changing from reshinless to the user i use everywhere..

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette, kinich, xiao, dainsleif, wanderer

albedo felt himself heating up already. the red that crept up his neck was noticeable as you looked up. you were wearing his lab coat, and all cozy in the bed you both share.

"you're.. wearing.. my.." - "oh.. wow."

he had just come back from work and he couldn't wait to cuddle with you in bed, yet it was as if he wouldn't mind conducting another experiment with his new 'assistant' by his side <3

alhaitham when he suddenly walks into the empty home, tired of the work he's done for only archons knows how long he had been working. he just wanted to come home and tell you about all the things he's been- oh.

he was stunned. star struck. fuck. were you really wearing his sweater right now? the grayhead felt himself simply smirk at he adorable sight of you simply sleeping on the couch. a dinner made just for him, along with dessert on the side (ifykyk)

"maybe i'll tell you when i wake up, love."

capitano who simply lets out a chuckle, one out of love. he loves how large his coat looked on you. he handed it to you after going out for a while, asking you to simply hang it beside his desk. yet you had better ideas. and by better ideas? is to wear it of course!

"well what do we have here? you're so adorable my love."

he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. adoring the way you tried your best not to fall over as you tried to spin. this was enough to keep you warm though. not to mention how he was already carrying you bridal style to bed.

childe laughs, seeing you try on one of his shirts, looking at yourself in the mirror before turning to see him.

baby, you look amazing! how about another spin?

even when you simply scoffed, he loved how you looked right now. fuck, he could feel himself reddening already. he definitely will let you have full access to his wardrobe. just take it all like how you took his heart too.

wriothesley just put his jacket over you to keep you from being wet while watching the melusines play with sigewinne, yet right now he was more focused on how much he admired your figure in his clothes. his jacket.

"what's wrong?" "...nothing. you look amazing today, yk that?"

he chuckled at your behavior, unaware of your own attractiveness as you told them to stop running around the fountain with the wetness of the floor spreading. you couldn't help but ease up and laugh as well.

a certainly crazy day at the court of justice- neuvillette was finally finishing up the last few cases, not to mention how absurd some of the cases were.

not realizing he ended up taking your jacket instead of his home, only realizing it when the melusines mention how different it look from his usual one. oh man. there you were. trying on his coat that just seemed a little too big (or small) on you. gosh were you cute.. what do you mean his ears are red?!

"i.. it looks better on you than me, doesn it?"

dainsleif who was there immediately as soon as the red wine was spilled onto your outfit. quick to spring into acting, he throws his jacket over it just as fast. scolding the person who jealously just oh-so accidentally ruined your outfit tonight purely because they wanted your significant other? oh please he wasn't having any of that!

but by the time his anger went away, he didn't realize how.. alluring you looked.. in something he wore all the time. it definitely suited you better, only noticing after he finally parked the car. he definitely had to give you more of his clothes.

"you.. uh.. i.. well.. you're beautiful. you know, you're welcome to keep that."

diluc's face was turning as red as his hair seeing how you quietly snored, sound asleep in his- no, your shared bed. seeing how closely you held his coat to your chest, as well as the shirt you wore.

"...I don't.. deserve you."

he simply took his boots off, letting his arms snake you close, one of his hands trailing up to your scalp, calmly stroking your head as he feels you smile into his chest. this was life.

kinich who always had an interesting wardrobe, you really just wanted to see how comfy his clothes were if he can swing back and forth that far!

and in which you did, spinning and looking at yourself in the mirror in his clothing. you loved it even more from how it smelled just like him too <3

"someone's having fun aren't they?"

you felt yourself blush out of embarassment of getting caught. but before you could apologize, he already had his lips on yours.

when xiao decides it'd be a good idea to give you a hoodie just to realize you never gave it back. is it just.. yours now?

and to find out the answer? yes! it is! and he finds out in the cutest way possible—by finding you sleeping soundly and wearing it all the same. almost indifferent about it as if it was normal.

"you okay?" "i-i've been looking for this y-you know.."

he only flushed more when you tell him you missed him so much.

finally coming home, wanderer, or scaramouche just wanted to cuddle. no words shared. just to hold you in his arms.

but maybe it was good that didn't happen. because now he was looking at the love of his life, and eating the food they made him. knowing how they made it with the knowledge on how he can't really taste anything. not to mention you were wearing.. that sweatshirt he lent you.

you.. look.. good.

[differenteagletragedy]

On domesticating Simon Riley.

Simon knows people, knows how to read them and how to get what he wants out of them, in a general sense. He also knows women, their bodies and how to handle them. How to pick one out that wants the same thing he wants, how to approach them and then how to cut and run.

What he doesn't know is how to stay. How to let someone else know him, even see him. What makes a home.

So you're going to have to teach him.

He has the most minimal wardrobe you've ever seen -- a few pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, a couple of hoodies and one pair of boots. After a few weeks of watching him lace up those boots every time he takes out the trash, you check them for his shoe size then order him a pair of crocs to wear around the house and when they arrive, you leave them by the door, where he keeps his boots.

"The fuck are these?" he grumbles that evening when he goes to grab the boots while you're cleaning up after dinner. They're too big to be yours, but he knows they're not his.

"I got them for you," you answer, coming to stand beside him. "Just something to wear when you need to step outside for a minute or if your little feet get cold and you wanna wear something around inside."

"I don't have ... fucking hell," he says, pointing down to the shoes. "They've got holes all in them."

"That's so you can accessorize!" you say proudly, pulling out a little bag full of charms that you picked out for him.

It's ridiculous. It looks absolutely absurd. But he wears them anyway, because he's learning that when people care about each other, they make little gestures like this, and if there's a way that he can wear your love for him around like a badge of honor, then no matter how goofy it looks, he'll be proud to do it.

Simon chews his fingernails down to the quick, a nervous habit that he's had for as long as he can remember. After catching him with a couple of bloody fingers after one particularly bad evening, you tenderly pull him into the kitchen, wash his hands and dry them, then sit him down at the kitchen table and leave for a moment, only to come back with nail polish.

"Really, love?" he asks, looking up at you with a smirk. "Gonna give me a manicure?"

You roll your eyes, pulling one of the chairs closer to him and reaching out for his hands, replying, "What, too manly to have your nails done?"

"Yeah, that's what it is," he smirks, all sarcasm, then says, "Why though?"

"It's the taste," you explain, shaking a bottle of black polish before taking the cap off and carefully leaning in to start on his right thumbnail. "The idea is that when you go to bite your nails, the polish will make it taste bitter so you stop."

He can't help but smile a little to himself as he watches you work. He doesn't care one way or the other about his nails, but it's cute, watching you so focused on him. Still, something about it nags at him, because while it feels good, having you care, it doesn't quite feel right, not all the way. Not just yet.

"Not hurting anyone with biting them," he says quietly, his eyes on his hands as you finish up.

You give a little sigh, capping the bottle before meeting his eyes, and you tell him, "You're hurting yourself. And that's not ok, not with me."

He doesn't do birthdays, not his anyway. Not in a dramatic "I hate my birthday" way, it's just not something of note to him. He knows the date, acknowledges it to himself when it comes just as a reminder that he's 40 now, not 39, nothing more. The first birthday he has with you comes after you've been together for several months, and you only hear about it after the fact.

"My sweet boyfriend," you coo at him one night in bed, a little tipsy from the wine you'd had with dinner. "My beautiful, beautiful boyfriend."

He chuckles, still marveling at how much you seem to marvel at him. Your hands are on him, gentle and doting, and he hears you giggle as you ramble on.

"Sweet and kind and handsome and strong," you say, running a hand through his hair. "He always watches out for me. He always takes care of me. My favorite person."

"You're drunk," he points out, smiling softly, cheeks red.

"Am not," you reply. "Even if I am, the truth is the truth."

You go on, praising him for everything you can think of. Pretty blonde hair, pretty smatterings of freckles, pretty dimples that only you ever get to see. It's almost unbearable, hearing how much you adore him, but in a good way. Like it's stretching something in him that's been closed for far too long.

You're breaking him in, slowly and carefully.

"Have you ever," you ask him at one point, "ever in your entire 39 years, thought that you'd get a girlfriend as thoughtful and loving as me?"

It's a playful question, but of course he's never thought that. His chest aches at the thought of just how much you've given him, and how much you let him give you in return. So instead, he dodges it.

"Not 39 anymore, sweetheart," he says softly.

Your brow furrows immediately, not understanding, and he laughs quietly, his hand on your stomach under the blankets sliding to your side to pull you closer.

"A few weeks ago," he explains.

"Your birthday was a few weeks ago?"

"It was."

"And you just ... didn't think to say anything?"

You're serious now, almost concerned, and he can't stand it.

"It's not a big deal, love," he says, leaning in to press kisses against your forehead and temple. "Just another day."

"It is a big deal," you argue, pulling back to look at him. "I would have ... I don't know, I would have gotten you something. Treated you special. Thrown a party, something."

"One, I don't like parties. Two, you treat me special everyday. Three, you've already given me more than you know, I don't need anything else."

All those things are true, but it still takes much longer than he'd like to get the frown off your face.

The next day, you ask him to run some errands for you. You need the oil changed in your car, some things from the big grocery store on the other side of town, but you need to stay home and take care of some things that need done around the house. He agrees easily. He likes taking care of you.

When he comes back later that afternoon, he goes for the kitchen, ready to put up the groceries he'd picked up, and there you are, leaning against the counter and smiling at him like you were waiting for him.

The homemade cake on the counter beside you, with candles sticking out and "Happy Birthday Simon" written in icing on top, tells him that you were.

Every time you do something like this, perform some little act of kindness that comes so naturally to you, it feels like something gets unlocked inside him. Like there have always been chains wrapped around his mind and his heart, keeping him tight and cold and alone, padlocks piling on top year after year, keeping all the hurt secure inside. But somehow you have the key, and you take your time, undoing them all.

Undoing him, completely and thoroughly, until he's open for the first time. And it's raw and new, and it hurts, but something in him knows that the pain will give way to something beautiful.

He watches as you step up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his chest.

"Happy birthday, Simon," you say softly.

He can't say anything, not now, so he pulls you closer to him, strong arms cradling you against him, and you're close enough that he can feel when the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile

Another lock coming off. Another piece of proof that he can be something different, something better, with you.

[merrinla]

More finds in the cut content. What's interesting is that this is post-game content. I don't know if these are pieces of DLC or an extended epilogue. Rook and Lucanis drink wine in a gondola. In one version, Lucanis refused to be First Talon and left the crows. The Viper arrives to Treviso to hire Lucanis to kill the local Venatori. The lines in the localization file are out of order. I've organized them as best I could, but I'm not sure if everything is correct.

The gondola scene

Rook: What are we celebrating? Revenge? Saving the world? Lucanis: How about a quiet moment? Rook: Is it quiet? Really? Lucanis: If it's not quiet, it's at least clear.

Option: If only the Antaam were gone. Rook: Treviso's beautiful. Too bad it's filled with Antaam.

Option: You're surprisingly romantic. Rook: Who knew you were a romantic? Lucanis: You bring it out in me. Rook: Yeah, yeah. I'm a bad influence.

Option: Let's not go back. Rook: Let's stay here forever. Lucanis: A little. Not forever.

Rook: What? No fancy glasses? Lucanis: That's Caterina's style. I'm more pragmatic. Lucanis: Well, more pragmatic than her anyway.

Option: Learn from your elders. Rook: There's nothing wrong with a bit of class. Lucanis: (Chuckles) I'll remember for next time. Rook: Oh yes. This is so pragmatic. Lucanis: I know.

Option: Casual's better. Rook: Less clean up. Rook: That's why we're having drinks in a gondola instead of the kitchen. Lucanis: Knew you'd understand.

Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize our home... (Crow Origin) Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize Antiva... Rook: Does it feel wrong?

(apparently Rook moved, causing the boat to rock.) Lucanis: Careful. Gondolas are more fashionable than they are stable. Rook: They're plenty sturdy. Rook: See. Nothing to— Rook: Oops? Lucanis: You were saying? Rook: Sorry. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Classic Rook. Rook: Classic Rook, he'll/she'll/tehey'll never change. Rook: I've made things awkward. Lucanis: I like this side of you. Lucanis: More wine? Rook: I saved the wine? Lucanis: (Laughs)

(Talon's version) Rook: How are you settling in as First Talon? Lucanis: There was some initial... friction with Caterina, but she got over it. Lucanis: She thought I'd do things her way and was surprised when I had my own ideas. Rook: Really? You'd think she'd be the most welcoming. Lucanis: No.

Rook: Have you spoken to Caterina or the others? Lucanis: Letters here and there. We haven't met since the party. Lucanis: I don't want to cut ties. Lucanis: But Caterina needs to get used to the fact that I'm no longer her heir. Rook: Are you used to it? Lucanis: I was never comfortable with the role to begin with. Rook: So, no regrets? Lucanis: (Sigh) Rook: It's a yes or no question, Lucanis. Lucanis: It's not. You've enough experience with regret to know that.

Rook: I respect your decision to walk away. Lucanis: It wasn't an easy decision. Lucanis: It was hard. Walking away. Rook: It was hard watching it. Lucanis: Let's not talk about me.

Rook: It's not an interrogation if you care. Lucanis: Why not? I've been thoroughly interrogated. Rook: (Snorts) Is that how it works?

Option: Your priorities have changed. Rook: You've changed your tune. Lucanis: I am. On what's important.

Lucanis: Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom.

Option: Consider it paid in full. Rook: That debt was paid when you helped us defeat the elven gods. Lucanis: No. That was a job. What you've done for me...

Option: I needed a mage killer. Rook: I had selfish reasons. Lucanis: Rook. I'm serious. Lucanis: Whatever your reasons...

Lucanis: The Venatori killed the man I was. Lucanis: You put the fight—the life—back into me. Rook: I... Thanks.

Lucanis: If you need someone taken care of... Just say the word. Lucanis: Your enemies are House Dellamorte's enemies. (Talon's line) Lucanis: Your enemies are my enemies.

Option: You make murder sound sweet. Rook: Awww. That's sweet. And scary. Lucanis: Of course those are the same thing to you. Rook: I was only teasing. Lucanis: How am I supposed to argue when you say things like that?

Option: I'll settle for friendship. Rook: Or we could just be friends? No killing required. Rook: I still care about you—as a friend. Lucanis: Didn't want you to get the wrong idea... Lucanis: We're still friends. Lucanis: If that's what you want... Rook: Appreciate it.

(non romance/friendship version?) Rook: Oh, I'm aware. Just haven't figured out what I want in return. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Lucanis: For a price. Rook: And you'll charge me... Lucanis: Like I said—a fair rate. (Talon's line) Lucanis: I'm not a Crow anymore. Rates are negotiable. Rook: Still sounds pretty Crow-y to me.

Rook: It's passed sundown. Lucanis: (Sighs) Rook: Time to go? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Lucanis: Don't worry. I'll collect. Rook: Fun time over? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Possibly lines from a subsequent quest.

Rook: Business at a Chantry. Not very Andrastian of you. Lucanis: What in our experience together makes you think I'm a good Andrastian? Rook: (Chuckles) Fair enough.

Rook: You sound like you have a plan. Lucanis: Always another mark. Rook: I take it the Antaam are the subject of this so-called analysis? Rook: Why do I get the feeling there's going to be less "analysis" and more stabby-stab? Lucanis: Keeps Wrath content. (Wrath is Spite's previous name?)

Lucanis: Viago said it'd be a fitting spot. Rook: You've proven it's a good spot for an ambush. Lucanis: And you're loud. Which do you think will attract the Antaam?

Meeting with Ashur

It seems as if Lucanis and the Viper were discussing their business, and then Rook came.

The Viper: If you don't trust my intel— Lucanis: I trust your intel and... Lucanis: Fortunate the Rook is here to save the day. Rook: The Rook can detect sarcasm!

Option: Ashur, you shouldn't be here. Rook: This isn't Minrathous. Rook: Ashur, if the Antaam find out you're here... The Viper: I've paid the right people so that they don't.

Option: You two make quite the pair. Rook: The Viper and the Demon. Sounds like a nursery rhyme to scare children.

The Viper: I was just leaving. Rook: Leaving so soon? Rook: You don't have to. Lucanis and I could show you the sights. Rook: There's wine tasting, Antaam assassinating, gambling— Lucanis: Rook. The Viper: Go ahead. I can afford it. Lucanis: (Grumbles.) Course you can. The Viper: You're ruining Rook's fun. Rook: Think about my offer.

The Viper: Should I pay now or— Lucanis: Just go.

Rook: What did he want? Lucanis: Some of us have work to do. Lucanis: It's about time I take care of things at home.

Rook: Who's the mark? Lucanis: Venatori who fled Minrathous after Elgar'nan's fall. Rook: That's why Ashur was here. Lucanis: He's the one who hired me to dismantle the Venatori in the first place. Lucanis: Might as well finish the job.

The most unclear part

Maybe it's related to the quest to kill the Venatori that Viper pointed out.

Rook: Can't take the huge door. Lucanis: The Venatori are inside. Strike from above and we'll take them by surprise. Rook: Above, eh? Rook: Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.

Rook: Not sure why Antivans even build doors. Rook: We never use them. (Crow Origin) Rook: You never use them. Lucanis: We're the Antivan-fucking-Crows.

Rook: We need to be cautious. Rook: If we're not careful, he'll kill the girl. Lucanis: Not if he's dead.

Lucanis: Focus on the self-important bastard. I'll take care of the rest. Rook: They're all self-important—and why do you get so many? Lucanis: Their predictability makes them easy targets.

Venatori: Two, four, six piggies come to slaughter. Venatori: Be grateful. Your meager existence will serve a higher cause. Rook: I'll show you a higher cause right up your— Venatori: (Grunts!) Venatori: Uh—God killer! Right he— Lucanis: Mage killer. Venatori: (Yells in pain) Rook: Lucanis! That's cheating! Lucanis!

Lucanis: Fucking Venatori. Rook: (Sigh) You can take the blood mages out of Minrathous, but…

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[shawtuzi]

♱ FEELZ ft. choso kamo ♱

summary: after months of desperate searching, choso finally finds the perfect roommate! you cook, clean up after yourself, and best of all, you happen to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. your only flaw? a gnawing bloodlust that increases tenfold whenever you’re around him because of his rare blood type.

wc: 18k cw include: sfw-roommates to lovers?? kinda??, mentions of reader killing people (she be hungry she’s just a girl!), mentions of blood, side character death, they’re so down bad for each other but for diff reasons, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, nsfw- lots of kissing, switch!choso, fondling, biting, a smidge of blood play, dry humping, oral f&m!receiving, SMIDGE of foot stuff, choso has an abnormally huge dick, riding, backshots, reader drinks choso’s blood during, marathon sex, abrupt ending IM SAWRYYYY I GOT TIRED >:(

‘ they say home is where the heart is, you’re the reason mine is beatin’. ’

“i’m sorry i had to schedule us meeting on such a crappy day, but i’m glad you were able to make it! what did you say your name was again?”

“y/n, my name is y/n. it’s very nice to meet you, choso.” you extended your manicured hand out to his, a small smile lifting at the corners of your lips. choso graciously enveloped your hand in his, giving it three slow shakes before awkwardly clasping his hands together.

he was handsome, intimidatingly handsome. the kind of handsome that would make you do a triple take if you ever saw him walking down the street. he was a big man. no shorter than six feet with broad shoulders to match. his eyelids were smudged with black liner, and right above the medium size scar on his nose was a bridge piercing. he had a few other piercings; a stud in his nose, snake bites, and if you paid close enough attention you could see a tongue ring.

as handsome as he was though, he had a sort of anxious aura surrounding him. he was nervous, but why?

“i don’t mind the rain, even when it gets like this. i like the smell that it leaves afterwards.” your eyes crinkled together in a smile which he returned happily.

it was silent for a few moments before choso finally spoke up. “sorry. i suppose you’re waiting for me to get the conversation going,” he chuckled breathily, resting his hands on the table. you hummed, giving him a curt nod while taking a sip of your tea.

“we’ve already gone over what’s in the apartment and rent, and all that other good stuff. what i really wanted to meet up to talk about was your boundaries, and other things you feel i should know about yourself.”

for such a big man he had the most gentle voice, and the kindest eyes as he spoke to you.

“well, i think we can both mutually agree on staying out of each others rooms, and toiletries. i take pride in being a good cook, so i don’t mind ever whipping you up something if you’re hungry. i’m good at picking up after myself, and you seem like the kinda guy who does the same so i don’t think that’ll be an issue. um, i would say i’m more on the introverted side, so you don’t have to worry about me having guests over.”

the more you spoke the more you could see choso visibly relax. you were saying all the right things, especially the part where you mentioned not having guests over. it’s not like choso didn’t have friends over from time to time, but my mans enjoyed the solitude of a quiet home very much.

“w-well that’s . . . that’s great! i know that’s like the bare minimum a person can ask for, but you have nooo idea what kinda nuts i’ve had to deal with.” he trailed off with a chuckle, and when you joined him in laughter he couldn’t notice how nice your smile was. you had the cutest little canines.

“i cook as well, but i wouldn’t say i’m the best, heh. i mostly work from home, so i’ll be home most of the day. i do have company over sometimes, but it’s just a couple of friends and my brother—if it would make you more comfortable i could try to let you know when they come over?”

sweet and thoughtful.

with a small shake of your head you said, “that won’t be necessary, but it’s very thoughtful that you’d offer. please continue.”

“ah, the only other thing is my gaming habit. i try to be quiet, but if i’m ever too loud please don’t hesitate to say something.” you couldn’t help but giggle. you didn’t take him for much of a gamer.

finally you bit the bullet and asked the question that’s been on your mind since he sat down. “have you ever roomed with a girl before?”

“ . . . ”

you could hear the way his heart picked up at your question. the faint blush on his cheeks was also a dead giveaway that he has, in fact, never shared a living space with a woman. “um, no. no i haven’t, b-but i promise i won’t be weird or anything like that. i’ll always respect you and your privacy, honest!”

the jangling of your gold bracelets caught choso’s attention as you rested your chin on your palm, a playful grin on your lips. “you’re real cute y’know that?”

this had choso smirking, the blush on his cheeks growing deeper. “yeah i’ve heard that once or twice. don’t let the looks fool you, i suck at talking to women no matter who it is,” he chuckled, eyes flitting to the rings on his fingers.

after a little more talk about your living situation, you and choso made some small talk. he told you a little about his job, and some stories about him and his brother when they were kids. you were pretty vague when it came to talking about your life, but choso didn’t seem to notice—mostly because you didn’t give him a chance to think before you were asking him another question about himself.

“it was so nice meeting you, y/n. i really look forward to being roommates. if you have any questions before your move-in day please feel free to reach out.” choso reached his hand out for yours, and to his surprise your hand was ice cold.

when his eyes flicked back up to yours, you had a look on your face he couldn’t quite decipher. you were smiling, but something just felt . . . off.

ah, he was all in his head again. you seemed like a nice girl, a normal girl. you had no criminal background as far as he knew, and after stalking what little socials you had, he didn’t get any kind of serial killer vibe.

you’d be the perfect roommate. you had to be!

“it was nice meeting you as well, choso! i’ll see you on the first.” and with that you parted ways.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

‘ breaking news ! another dead body was found in an alleyway by two citizens early this morning. the couple described the scene as ‘horrific’ and ‘nightmarish’. like the other four corpses previously found, the body was drained of all blood and was missing its head, arms, and its entire lower half. police are encouraging citizens to follow the ten p.m curfew, but there have been talks of enforcing this curfew rather than having it as a suggestion . . . ’

the tv clicked off, leaving nothing but a black screen. nanami let out a long sigh through his nose before slowly turning his head towards you. “are you being sloppy on purpose or are you just that dumb?”

you lips quirked up in a grin, “calm down. it’s not like they’re ever gonna figure it out who’s doing it all, and besides, a ten p.m curfew? in new york city? please. plus, i’ve decided to take a break for a little while, i’ve found a new roommate and i need to settle in.”

if looks could kill your heart would surely have a stake through it by the way nanami was looking at you. his usually handsome face was twisted into a deep frown, and if you weren’t scared of him quite literally breaking every bone in your body, you’d laugh at him.

nanami was an old friend of yours, but not really a friend at all. he was hired to watch over you by a very old, irritating, and invasive counsel that you despise with every fiber of your undead being. he’s simply there to make sure you didn’t draw any unwanted attention to your kind.

it’s not like you pranced around with your eyes crimson red, and fangs bared for all to see—you just had a problem controlling your bloodlust. hence why nanami was there. he’s been following you around the world for almost a century now, and he hasn’t changed the slightest bit. if anything he got more and more grumpy as the years went on. if he was physically able to age he’d be as shriveled as a raisin by now.

“i hope you’re at least being sensible about the lives you’re taking. some of these people have families to get back to,” nanami spoke lowly, taking a long sip of the bourbon in his glass. the comment had you rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“i can assure you no one will miss them. you should know by now i don’t go after innocents,” you all but growled, digging your nails into the leather of the couch you were sitting on.

“not everyone can live off diseased squirrels, and alley cats, or whatever the hell you eat to survive.” you muttered the snarky comment under your breath, but nanami heard every syllable.

he tongued the inside of his cheek, veiny hand coming up to loosen the tie around his neck. “this new roommate of yours . . . is anyone going to miss him when he turns up missing?”

“he won’t turn up missing because i don’t plan on killing him. he’s nice . . has some friends and a little brother. seems a little ditzy too so i don’t think he’ll catch onto anything, but at this point, anywhere is better than sharing a place a with you.”

ever since you settled on staying in new york, nanami took it upon himself to find an apartment for you. it was a beautiful place to say the least, but the catch was he was staying there with you. that was always the catch, but this time around you were fed up with the blondes meddling more than usual. you had to get outta there.

“i hope you know that just because you’re leaving that doesn’t mean i won’t be keeping an even closer eye on you,” he muttered, setting the glass beside him. unfortunately you were already fully aware that no matter where you hid in the ginormous city, or in the world honestly, nanami would always be on your coattails.

the thought of trying to kill him doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. every attempt you’ve ever made on his life ended horribly . . . for you. the last time you tried to kill the blonde he ended up breaking both of your kneecaps with a single, swift kick, and that was the end of that. you couldn’t cause any physical harm so verbal attacks would have to do.

“like i could ever forget. now please be useful for once and help me pack the rest of my things.” you sounded like a spoiled child. it annoyed kento to his core. sixty years of following you around, and you haven’t changed a single bit.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

when you arrived at your new apartment the sun was just about to fully set, the pink and orange swirls in the sky now fading to night. the sun wasn’t your total enemy. it wasn’t like you disintegrated into dust the second a ray of sunshine hit your skin, but it was still rather bothersome and you tried to avoid it if possible.

choso was waiting for you by the entrance of the building with his hand lifted in a wave, and a sweet smile on his lips. sure, he thought it was a little odd you wanted to move the rest of your things in when it was dark out, but he didn’t care to question it.

your headboard and mattress had already been brought earlier in the day along with two of your dressers, and the nicest vanity he’s ever seen. the apartment itself was a slight downgrade from your previous place, but like you had stated before: anywhere is better than sharing a space with kento.

all you had with you were clothes. lots and lots of clothes. so many clothes that it had choso’s eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“it looks like a lot but i think we can knock this out in a half hour, forty five minutes tops!” you wrapped an arm around his muscly bicep, biting back a giggle as he examined the moving truck full of boxes and racks of clothes. choso let out a low chuckle, hand awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

“is there any particular reason why you have so many clothes?” he hummed, tilting his head to you. he couldn’t deny the tingle that shot down his spine when you batted your lashes at him. “ummm, all of this is vintage, designer, or vintage designer. i had to bring all of it with me. now c’mon!”

the entire thing took a little over an hour, and it would’ve gone by faster if you used a little of your inhuman strength and speed, but watching choso’s muscles strain as he carried each box was far more enjoyable. hearing the little grunts and groans he made was even better.

“you barely even broke a sweat! you’re so strong, choso,” you giggled, lazily swinging your legs back and forth as you watched him set the final boxes down. choso preened at the praise, a dopey smile forming on his lips. he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple before speaking, “ah, it’s nothin’. my friends convinced me to start going to the gym with them a couple months ago, and i guess the results have been pretty nice.”

you could’ve rolled your eyes when he said the words ‘pretty nice.’ he was one of the most jacked men you’ve ever seen, yet he was describing the results as decent. why downplay himself?

you couldn’t wait to pick this boys brain apart.

his ears perked up when he heard you pat the soft cushion of the couch. “come sit with me, cho.”

he blinked a few times before slowly making his way over to you. when he sat on the furthest end of the couch your lips lifted into a playful smirk. “you don’t have to sit so far y’know, i don’t bite.” well, at least for now.

“i know, i just—i don’t know,” he chuckled, glancing over at you before flitting his eyes to the chunky rings on his fingers.

‘come onnnn. start some conversation, don’t be weird!’ he screamed at himself in his head, afraid that this comfortable silence will soon turn into an uncomfortable one.

you could see the struggle on the his face, hear the way his heartbeat picked up as he tried to think of something, anything to say.

“did those hurt?” you spoke softly, poking a finger to your lip. his tongue slowly swiped over his snake bites, brows raising in question to see if that’s what were were referring to. you let out a small, barely audible hum and nodded your head.

“eh, kinda. i’d rate if a six and a half on the pain scale. my most painful piercing was definitely my—oh, um, well i don’t know if i should show you—unless you wanna see! t-then i can totally show you—”

everything happened so quick. one minute you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch, then suddenly you were so close to choso that your thighs were smushed together. his mouth dropped open the tiniest bit when you cupped his cheeks, bringing his face close to yours. your hands were cold, but your touch was as delicate as ever.

“calm down. you sound like you’re about to have a stroke,” you giggled, releasing your hold on him. choso let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in and silently nodded. without another word being said he lifted up his t-shirt, revealing a singular piercing on his left nipple.

your eyes widened, a grin forming on your glossy lips. you leant in close, so close it had choso making a noise of surprise. “why just the one?” you giggled, trailing your eyes from his chest to those pretty, doe eyes of his.

“the plan was to get both done, but i pussied out after the guy did this one. the pain was just too much, which is funny considering i’ve had my ribs tatted—now that is real pain right there! see?” two of his fingers slowly trailed down the tattoo on the left side of his ribs. your eyes widened the size of saucers when you realized the tattoo was of icarus.

“are you—do you happen to be into greek mythology?” when you nodded ‘yes’ choso matched your giddy smile, his eyes brightening in a way that was just too cute. “when i was younger i thought it was sooo cool, a-and i still do! hence why i got a tattoo of icarus. i know there’s more interesting stories, but his really stuck with me. i guess i can relate to pushing myself past my limits, physical or mental . . . ”

you came to a conclusion that night that you liked hearing choso talk about literally anything. you liked how soft spoken he was, and how he stumbled over his words. you adored hearing the way his tone changed and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about things he was passionate about or liked.

you told him a little about yourself, and it was nice to see the way he hung onto every word you said. the way his eyes lit up when you delved a little into your personal life. he was a good listener, you liked that.

it was true shame that even after all the great impressions he’s made in only a few hours—you still wanted to yank him back by those pretty, brown locs and sink your teeth into his neck.

his scent was enough to have you drooling, and if you hadn’t of indulged in a man the previous night, you surely would be now. it was a sweet scent, like those expensive chocolates you only bust out for special occasions. you’ve only smelt such a thing one other time, but that would mean . . . oh.

he had a rare blood type; o-negative to be exact. the rarest blood type in the world with only six million people worldwide to have it—and here you were with a walking blood bank of it. now you really had reason not to kill him.

you could end his life, indulge in him now, and get your fill, but then what? this was something you had to nurture, something you had to savor.

“y/n? you alright? i lost ya for a second there,” he grinned, cocking his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy.

“hm? oh yes i’m fine. just thinkin’ about all the unpacking i have to do.”

“w-well i could help you if you want? i’d love to see your clothes if they’re all vintage. that kinda stuff is real neat to me.” your silence to the question worried him, but when he heard you say yes his eyes lit up.

your wardrobe was far more impressive than he could’ve ever imagined. from dresses, to handbags, to jewelry—you had it all, and you took pride in it. happiness isn’t guaranteed for all of eternity, but stylish clothing certainly is.

“isn’t this shawl beautifu? look at the detail on it,” you spoke lowly, holding the article of clothing out for choso to see. with a shaky hand, choso delicately ran two fingers over the lacy material of the shawl. “its from vivienne westwoods nineteen-ninety five spring collection. the naomi campbell wore this same one on the runway.”

now choso didn’t know much about fashion, but by the way your eyes lit up at the article of clothing, it had to have been something real special.

choso plopped down on your freshly made bed and propped himself up on his elbows. “how on earth did you get your hands on that?”

your lips parted in a small laugh. “you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. just know i have my ways.”

he didn’t need to know that you were there in person to see naomi campbell walk down the aisle with said shawl, and he certainly didn’t need to know the troublesome lengths you had to go thought to get it.

“oh shit, it’s past midnight. i should probably head to bed,” choso groaned, reaching his arms over his head to stretch. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle his flexing muscles as he did so.

“mm, well goodnight, choso. thank you for helping me unpack my stuff. sweet dreams!”

he gave you a sweet smile and made his way to exit your room. as he passed you got a strong whiff of the sweet, mouthwatering scent that was him. you had to physically restrain yourself by digging your nails into your palm so hard they bled—otherwise you would’ve tackled him like a linebacker just to get a little taste.

not today, y/n. not today.

when choso dozed off he could hear little rustles from your room, and when he woke up the next morning he could hear noises from the kitchen. the sun was barely peeking through, and you were already up? whew, and he thought he was an early bird.

still very much groggy with sleep, choso exited his room and was met with the sight of you in the kitchen, whipping up some kind of breakfast while you hummed a quiet tune.

* yawn* “good morning, y/n.”

“good morning, chos—oh! um . . . cho?”

“hm?”

“any particular reason you only got boxers on right now? not that i’m complaining or nothin’,” you giggled, whipping back around to focus on the breakfast you were making. as you finished your sentence all the sleepiness in choso’s body vanished, and was quickly replaced with embarrassment?? shame?? both??

all you can say is you’ve never heard a grown ass man shriek.

you heard loud footsteps and the sound of a door slam. you perked your ears up a little bit more to hear him and he did not disappoint. little whines and whimpers of embarrassment slipped past his lips left and right.

‘idiot! she probably thinks i’m a huge perv!’ you heard him whine in shame, and sickly enough, it brought a smile to your lips. sure, you felt bad that he was so embarrassed from exposure, but ugh! he was just too cute!

even with the numerous tattoos and piercings, choso gave you severe cuteness aggression, and when you paired it with that marshmallowly, caramel scent he had, it made you wanna kiss his cheeks and rip his throat out with your teeth at the same time.

ugh. you needed to feed, and soon. you could already feel your humanity slipping, and that wasn’t good for anyone.

your thoughts were broken by the smell of burning french toast. “ah, shit.” your nose scrunched in annoyance as you scraped the now burnt french toast off the pan.

“i’m sooo sorry about that. i-it’s been a while since i’ve had another person here, a-and i smelt food—not that that’s an excuse of course. i just—i’m sorry.” he was talking so fast you barely understood a word he said, and you feared if you asked him to repeat himself he’d explode into pieces.

you hummed out a small laugh and set a plate of french toast and eggs on the small glass table in front of him. “it’s okay, cho. we’re both adults, stuff happens. it’s all good, now eat!” he silently stared at you for two beats before slowly pulling out a chair and sitting.

the petrified look on his face was wiped off and replaced with a small smile. “this looks delicious, thank you.” you bowed your head slightly in a silent thank you and took a seat right next to him. human food did little to appease your appetite, but it did curb your cravings a tad, hence why you decided to pick at your own piece of french toast.

“have any dreams?” you asked, licking a dribble of syrup off your fork. choso nearly choked on his eggs at the action, quickly gulping down some juice to ease the burning in his throat. “n-nah, none in particular really stand out. y-you?” you giggled and shook your head. “i don’t dream very much. i guess my thoughts are too loud or something.”

you both maintained small talk while choso demolished his breakfast, and while you talked he only made direct eye contact about a handful of times.

choso was already bad with girls, but you made him completely beside himself. you had him stumbling over damn near every word he said, your precious laugh set the apples of his cheeks ablaze every time he heard it, and worst of all he hasn’t stopped looking at your boobs since you sat at the table!

you were wearing a pink, lacy nightgown with a robe to match, and every time you leant forward even an inch, your breasts were spilling out more.

“you want some more, cho? there’s plenty left.”

choso blinked. hard.

“um, no no that’s okay. i should probably freshen up . . . get ready for work and s-such, but thank you! thank you so much for breakfast, you’re the best!” the sound of his chair scooting back was deafening. he couldn’t believe how fucking awkward he was being right now.

“mm, suit yourself. i’ll be tidying up in here if you need anything!” the smile you gave him was the same one you had given him at the coffee shop where you first met. it looked sincere, yet it sent a shiver up his back. it honestly looked like you wanted to devour him whole.

while you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but, once again, let your mind wander to choso’s impressive physique. he was so big. you just wanted to sink your teeth into every muscle on his body. you certainly didn’t miss the massive bulge in boxers either—

“o-oh!”

you nearly dropped the plate you were holding, your brain going into complete overdrive at the smell of blood.

“ah, shit. stupid fuckin’ razor . . . ”

so he cut himself with a razor. that’s unfortunate. maybe you could help him tend to it. maybe he’d even let you smell the blood soaked tissue he dabbed it with. your mouth watered, a thin line of drool dribbling from your lips and onto the porcelain plate you were holding with an iron grip.

“i need—i n-need to get out of here,” you whispered to yourself, damn near tossing the plate in the dishwasher. if you didn’t step out now you would surely hurt choso, and that was last thing you needed to deal with when you’ve only been there one night.

the sound of a door slamming caught choso’s attention, and when he walked out to see what the commotion was, he found nothing. nothing except a little note on the counter.

had to run out and do a few things. i’ll be back soon.

— y/n

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

your fingers twitched around the icy glass in your hands, the feeling of hunger draping over you more and more by the second. he should be here any minute.

your ears perked up at someone entering the bar, and surely enough there he was; toji fushiguro, aka your next target. you’ve done some research on the man, and he was more than perfect for the job.

he killed people for a living. it didn’t matter if it was a man or woman, old or young—if you paid him enough he’d do it. on top of that he also had a reputation as a sleazy pig, someone who thought more with his dick than his brain if it wasn’t work related.

he was big, intimidatingly big, but nothing you couldn’t handle. in fact you were hoping he struggled, you liked a challenge.

“now what’s a pretty thing like you doing a shithole like this?” his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to your ears, but nonetheless, you forced a smile and slowly turned your stool towards him. you almost wanted to roll your eyes when you saw an unlit cigarette dangling from between his smirking lips.

you let out a dramatic sigh and batted your lashes extra hard. “well, i got into a nasty argument with my boyfriend while we were having lunch and i ended up getting so mad i stormed off! i left the restaurant and just kept on walking until i ended up here.”

the reality actually was: you waited in a cafe until this dingy bar opened at ten a.m. and then waited even longer in this uncomfortable ass bar stool until he showed up. he was a regular at this bar. according to other patrons, if he wasn’t there he was either out on a job or dead because he never went home.

as far as you knew, he had no friends, no living relatives, and more reasons to be hated than you could count on your fingers.

“well that’s an awful shame darlin’. how ‘bout you buy us a round of drinks and tell me alllll about it.” before you knew it, his side was pushed up against yours, his large arm now wrapped around your shoulders. the smell of whatever cologne he had on had your nostrils burning.

you let out a small, fake laugh and whipped out a wad of cash. “order whatever you like,” you grinned, slamming the money down so hard you could’ve sworn he flinched.

it wasn’t until four drinks later that toji’s words started to slur, and he was a tad more touchy than when he first approached you. you were feeling borderline feral at this point, the last of your humanity slipping through your fingers due to a fight between two patrons that happened minutes before.

the metallic smell of blood lingered throughout the air. it was so strong you could practically taste it.

“you alright, sweet thing? shakin’ like a leaf over there,” he chuckled, slithering his hand around your waist to give it a squeeze. his eyebrows raised slightly when you turnt your head towards him. “um . . . have your, um, have your eyes always looked like that? maybe i’m a little too tipsy but they look red.”

without saying a word you grasped his bigger hand in your own. “come with me,” you muttered, hopping off the barstool. a wave of shock washed over toji’s face at the amount of strength you used to pull him off his own stool. “heh, you’re pretty strong, cutie.”

when he realized you were taking him into an alleyway, his lips pulled into a sleazy smirk. “what’re you tryna do, little lady?” he chuckled, teeth catching onto his bottom lip when you pushed him into a near brick wall.

“i am just so, so hungry,” your voice was hushed, now two octaves deeper. you pressed your nose against the pulse point in his neck, inhaling until you felt dizzy. your fangs were practically throbbing against your gums. you needed to bite into something, anything!

your tongue lolled out, sloppily rolling itself around the expanse of his neck. you nearly hissed at the man when he cupped your jaw in his hands. “are you—? heh, are you droolin’?”

you let out a small giggle, giving him a toothy grin. you took multiple mental pictures of the look on his face. it wasn’t exactly a face of horror, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

without thinking he pushed you to the ground, his back now firmly pressed against the wall. “the fuck . . . the fuck? is this some kinda prank? the fuck is wrong with your face?”

when you attempted to get up you were met with the sound of a gun clicking. you peered at him over your lashes, your nose crinkling in a laugh.

“i’ve heard of you guys, but i thought it was all just rumors. fuckin’ nightwalkers. tell me why i shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now.”

it all happened so fast. one minute you were on the ground and the next you were gone. toji’s head whipped left, then right. you completely vanished before his eyes.

“you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—oof!”

toji had somehow been flipped to his back, his head knocking against the gravel below him. when he tried to get up, he was stopped by a heel pressing snugly against his chest.

“i hope you’re not looking for this,” you dryly chuckled, tucking the weapon in your purse. you made a mental note to dispose of it later—guns were little to no use for someone such as yourself.

“why’re you doing this, hm? the fuck you want from me?” his teeth grit together when you pushed your heel deeper into his chest. toji was fucked. undeniably, incredibly fucked. he could run, but you’d catch him. he could try to take you down at hand-to-hand combat, but he knows you’d break every bone in his body before he even threw a punch.

he knew karma would catch up with his ass one day, but damn! did it have to happen right when he just got done with a job? at least he was decently buzzed.

“you’re a very bad man, mr. fushiguro. you’re wanted for murder, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon—gosh, i mean the list goes on! i’m sure the world will be a much better place with you off the streets. not to mention you made me get my skirt dirty. that’s enough reason for me to rip your head off.”

you slowly took your heel off his chest, and to your surprise he stayed put, not daring to move an inch. toji let out a deep sigh through his nose. “well, if i’m gonna die, at least it’s at the hands of a very, very gorgeous lady such as yourself.”

your head tilted to the side, a bashful smile tugging at your lips. “tch, you’re too sweet, honestly.” you knelt down beside him and tilted his chin up. the sound of his heart thumping in his chest had your head pounding.

“i’ll try to make this as painless as possible, mr. fushiguro.”

‘ breaking news ! yet another body his been discovered this evening by patrons leaving a nearby bar. the police have identified the body as toji fushiguro; a known criminal around the city of new york. patrons at the bar say they saw mr. fushiguro leave with a woman, but a description has yet to be released. when police found mr. fushiguro it appeared that he had been attacked by an animal due to the multiple bite wounds around his body, so this mystery woman may not be our suspect, but due to the lack of security cameras inside the bar it is unlikely this woman will be found. ’

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

choso had a problem. a very big problem. after almost six months of living together, he’s developed the corniest, most lovesick puppy crush on you. what could he say? you were perfect in every way imaginable. you were a little bit of a mystery to him, but that only added on to the crush even more!

he loved being in your presence, the floral scent that you left behind every time you crossed paths. he loved your home cooked meals, and the random desserts you’d bake just because you were bored. he loved that you both had so much in common—from tv shows, to movies, to music!

all these amazing things, and more had choso falling head over heels for you, but because of the roommate code he swore upon himself, he never once made a move. the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, so he kept those feelings bottled up, but as the days went on it became harder and harder to not show his attraction to you. especially during your weekly movie nights.

“sooo what’d you pick for us tonight, cho?” you asked once he took a seat on the couch. you pouted at the distance, wasting no time crawling towards him until there was less than an inch of space between your bodies.

“from dusk till dawn.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and this caught choso’s attention. “what, you don’t like that movie? it’s a classic!” he chuckled, taking a sip of the juice he was nursing.

you grinned at him, cocking your head to side as you batted your lashes. “i’ve actually never seen it, all i know is that it’s a vampire movie.” choso was absolutely gobsmacked at this information.

“well now we have to watch it!”

even though vampire movies weren’t your favorite, you decided to watch it anyway, but only if choso held you the entire time. that was your one condition.

so that’s how you ended up tucked snugly into his chest while his arms were weakly draped over your lower back. he wanted to be normal about this, but how could he?! especially when you had on the most tempting set of lacy pajamas.

“you’re so warm, choso . . . smell really nice too,” you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his chest to get a stronger whiff of him. he smelt so sweet you could practically feel your tooth aching from it. “t-thanks y/n. you smell nice too, like, like flowers.”

“mhm, it’s peonies. i’ve been using a new body wash, thank you for noticing.” you shuffled the tiniest bit, making your top ride up and expose your lower back.

choso’s hand twitched. god, he wanted to touch you, feel how soft your skin was.

“mm, hold me tighter. you feel so loose,” he heard you whisper below him, and with a deep exhale he pulled your body closer to his, his hand now splayed across your bare, lower back.

fuck, he was right. your skin was in fact as soft as the peonies you smelt of.

he squeezed your side gently, and you hummed, lashes fluttering at the action. “that feels nice . . . rub my back? please?”

“s-sure. let me know if i’m getting too low or far up . . . ‘kay?” you let out a small hum and nodded, fixating your eyes on the movie. you weren’t really paying attention, more so relishing in how soft choso’s hands felt against your cool skin.

it wasn’t even five minutes later when choso really started to notice how close you were to him. your chest was pressed so tightly against his it was driving him mad! your tits felt so soft, even through his shirt and your top. he couldn’t help but wonder if they were as soft as the rest of you—oh god he cannot pop a boner right now, not here!

“um, y/n.”

“mhm?”

“do you—do you want some wine? i could really use some wine, how about you get up for a sec—”

a squeak flew past your lips when choso abruptly sat up, taking you up with him. your hands flew to his shoulders out of instinct, and somehow, this put choso in an even more fucked up situation. you were sitting right on his dick, and if you didn’t notice it was hard then, you definitely did now.

your face was blank for a moment and then you smiled at him. “i’d love some wine, thank you.”

you knew he was sporting a boner before choso himself even knew. you could practically hear the blood rushing to his dick, the way his heart rammed against his ribcage. it brought sense of pride in your chest that you didn’t even know existed.

you slowly maneuvered yourself off his lap, and to choso’s surprise you acted completely normal, reaching over to pause the movie as if either of you were actually paying attention. as if he wasn’t scrambling to get some wine to draw your attention away from his semi.

even after this shameful moment, his dick was still hard and getting harder by the second. so while he shakily poured two glasses of wine, he also made quick work to adjust himself, though it did little to hide anything.

he could call it a night, and hide in his room forever, but that might hurt your feelings. choso would rather get jumped than ever hurt your feelings. he just had to think of something to make it go down, but what? you were the only thing plaguing his mind.

he tried to think of the most disgusting things possible, and even tried coming up with mental pictures that would have him gagging, but nothing worked. caught up in all the commotion in his head, choso hadn’t realized how loose he was holding onto the wine glasses before one of them slipped from his hand and onto the ground.

you jumped, head whipping to the side with furrowed brows. “everything okay in there, cho?”

choso was borderline panicking at this point, not even thinking about the shards of glass slicing at his fingertips as he picked them up.

your nose twitched. there went that smell again.

you should leave. go somewhere far away before you do something you regret . . . but then that would mean leaving choso. what if he was hurt? what he if couldn’t give himself proper care?

despite the numerous voices in your head shouting at you to leave him be, you got up and slowly made your way to the kitchen. choso could hear your sock clad feet padding against the hardwood floor and straightened his posture, his eyes not even daring to look at the mess in his hands.

“your . . . ” you took a final step forward, not daring to move another inch, “your hands. they’re bleeding.”

choso’s eyes flitted to his crimson hands, then back to yours. your hand was covering the entire lower half of your face, almost as if you had smelt something foul. your body was practically vibrating from how much you wanted to pounce on him.

his eyes widened. “i’m—i’m sorry. i was making the drinks and they just—are you okay? do you get queasy around blood? i’m so sorry—”

choso was utterly embarrassed. this was certainly one way to kill a boner.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, let me see.” your words were muffled due to you speaking over your hand. choso took a step forward, and it almost looked like you wanted to take a step back, but you stayed put, slowly moving your hand away from your face as he got closer.

you could feel saliva pooling on your tongue as you took a short inhale. “o-oh, choso. why would you pick up glass with your bare hands?” your tone had sounded more aggressive than you intended, but hey, it was better than the other things you had in mind.

choso gnawed on his bottom lip. “because . . . because you make me nervous. i’m sure you saw my, um, problem, thank you for not saying anything by the way,” while he was explaining himself it was like he was speaking through you, his eyes avoiding yours as much as possible. you nodded slowly, your nostrils flaring as your lungs burned for air.

“i just—i just wanted to get rid of it before i made an even bigger fool of myself, but you see how that went.” before he spoke again you shushed him.

“it’s fine. just follow me to the bathroom so i can pick this glass out. i have a pair of tweezers.” he nodded dumbly like a lost puppy, and silently followed you with a frown etched onto his lips.

“you know you don’t have to help me—”

“please shush. just sit so i can help you, i don’t mind a bit, cho.” you hated that your tone was so snippy with him, but you weren’t sure how much longer your humanity would stay intact.

choso’s frown deepened, but he sat on the toilet seat cover regardless, gently laying his hands on the porcelain sink palms up. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i completely crossed a boundary i shouldn’t have, i mean, we’ve been getting along so well these past five months, and i know we get physical sometimes, but i shouldn’t have . . . gotten an, erm, erection.”

it was silent. not even a breath could be heard from either of you. why were you being so calm? why were you helping him? he figured any other girl would be livid . . . unless you felt the same.

he watched you shuffle around the bathroom as you looked for your tweezers until you finally found them. the sight before you would probably send shivers down anyone’s spine from the amount of blood, but it left you starving. you hesitated twice to grab his hand, and with a shudder you finally grasped it.

“o-okay let’s do this,” you sighed, making quick, but swift work to remove the tiny shards of glass. you were honestly very proud of yourself for making it this far.

choso hissed when you pulled out a particularly long piece, his brows furrowing in discomfort. you could hear his heart thrumming in his chest, it was beginning to hurt your head.

“i’m not upset or creeped out that you got hard, cho. i felt it before you even got up. if i was uncomfortable i would’ve let you know, but i wasn’t, i was just waiting for you to make a move . . . but then you cut your—your hands.” you swallowed thickly, nostrils flaring as you pulled out the final piece of glass.

choso let out a deep sigh, brown locs covering his eyes when his head tilted downward. “i’m at idiot, an injured idiot at that.”

your lips parted in a breathy laugh, “you’re not an idiot, you’re sweet. now sit tight so i can disinfect it.”

it physically pained you to wash his blood off your hands. you wanted to shed a tear watching the crimson liquid swirl down the drain, but you had to be sanitary about this!

you couldn’t help but think of nanami, and how proud he would be if he could see you tending to a humans wounds rather than indulging on them.

“this is probably gonna hurt . . . like a lot.” you warned looking into his eyes for consent to continue. he hesitantly nodded, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing.

you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past when your lips when choso cursed rather loudly at the stinging sensation from the alcohol. he was a trooper for sure, hands not moving an inch, even as you dabbed more alcohol on the cuts.

“t-thank you for doing this. fuck, there’s no w-way i could’ve done this myself with somehow getting injured more.” his voice was shaky as he spoke, but there a small smile etched onto his lips.

you breathed out a small laugh, wiping the cuts clean before beginning to bandage them. “i’m glad i was able to help. now please be more careful! next time you drop some glass just sweep it up!”

“y-yes ma’am, i promise.”

when you finished putting the alcohol and bandages away, you were shocked to feel choso pull you close by the backs of your thighs.

“choso! watch your hands, you just got them bandaged up,” you giggled, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. he smiled at you, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his chest. you were so close your faces were nearly touching, the scent of your body wash wafting into his nose once more.

kiss her. kiss her. kiss her.

“are you trying to kiss me, cho?”

choso swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing. “mhm.”

your lips lifted into a toothy grin, and for the first time decades you actually felt butterflies in your tummy. “c’mere then.”

when choso pressed his lips against yours it was soft, so soft you barely felt anything. you kissed him back harder, and that elicited a small sound from the back of his throat.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. it was so dangerous for him and he didn’t even know it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. you don’t think you could even if you wanted to. each time you moved away, even slightly, choso was chasing your lips eagerly.

“d-don’t pull away. please, jus’ stay right here,” he sighed, gently cupping the back of your neck to keep you in place. your whimpered, lips parting to allow him to him to slip his tongue in your mouth. his hands throbbed in pain, but he knew he’d be the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet if he stopped this.

the kiss was getting more and more heated, and choso was getting touchier by the minute. it sucked he couldn’t feel all of you due to the bandages, but hey, this was better than not being able to feel you up at all.

“we—we should probably stop. you’re probably in—ngh, in pain.” your lashes fluttered shut when choso’s puffy lips began smearing kisses all over your neck and throat, desperation and need laced in each kiss.

he felt a hand wrap around his throat, followed by a small push, but he was resistant. the pulse point in his neck thrummed underneath your finger tips. god, you just wanted a little taste.

“i don’t mind bein’ in a little pain, i just want you.” his arms wrapped possessively around your waist, “you’re always so cold, y/n. lemme warm you up.”

his kisses were addicting. every time you wanted to pull away and put some distance, you found yourself going back in for more. your mind was beginning to fog, and he just kept pulling you further and further in.

“your heartbeat is so loud,” you whimpered into the kiss, manicured fingers tugging at his hair. choso hissed, too drunk on your kisses to even process what you had said.

he noticed your kisses were becoming hungrier, more aggressive. the little nibbles you gave his bottom lip now turning into full on biting. he breathlessly chuckled, “c-careful. you’re gonna—mmph, make my lip bleed.”

“i know.”

and then there it was. it was sweeter than you imagined, gliding onto your tastebuds like the finest honey. choso’s blood tasted divine, just as you thought.

you gasped, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. choso was caught a little off guard, and he didn’t know if it was because his dick was hard or that fact you made anything attractive, but he was into it. his eyes rolled back, and if you didn’t have such a sturdy grip on his shoulders his head surely would’ve knocked against the wall.

you were entirely too far gone now, so what happened next came as a shock to choso and yourself.

“o-ow . . . y-y/n?”

choso was holding onto your side with an iron grip, paralyzed in fear. your lips were no longer his, now on his neck along with your fangs. you let out an apologetic whine, and slowly removed yourself from the coziness of his neck.

you backed up into the wall, hard. your chest was heaving, the air around you seeming to not get in your lungs fast enough. choso’s lips parted, but before he could even let out a puff of air you were right back in front of him, your hand covering his mouth roughly.

he let out a weak noise, fear pooling in his, usually bright, purple eyes. your eyes softened, but you weren’t sure it was doing you any good.

your teeth were coated in blood, his blood, some dribbling from your wobbling bottom lip and onto your chest.

“that wasn’t supposed to happen. i’m—i’m so sorry, choso. that wasn’t—shit. i-i’m so sorry, oh my gosh, look at your neck.” you hated that you did this to him, and during such an intimate moment.

a beat passed, and then another. choso’s rapid breathing had calmed a bit, but he was still shaking like a leaf.

“if i move my hand will you promise not to freak? we can talk about this, i promise—i swear, i won’t hurt you.”

choso blinked slowly, his eyes trailing to the blood staining your lips, then back to your eyes. he slowly nodded, and with zero hesitation you removed your hand from his mouth.

“i don’t—i don’t even know what to say. you’re not gonna kill me are you? i-i promise i won’t tell anyone.”

“no, no, no! i won’t hurt you, i never wanted to hurt you. it’s just my urges—they get so strong, especially when i’m not in my right mind. even n-now . . . i wanna hurt you, but there’s something inside thats keeping me from doing it, and—and i’m thankful.”

you reached your hands out to him, but he flinched away, cowering like a kitten until you cupped his cheeks. “i wish i could revert to how i looked before, but i’m stuck looking like this until i feed.”

feed.

he was so confused as to why you were speaking about yourself as if you were an animal. what even were you exactly? you couldn’t possible be a fucking vampire—those things didn’t exist! they were a myth!

you were so soft and sweet, there’s no way you could possibly be something murderous as a vampire.

“i know this is crazy, but just breathe and bare with me okay? you’re probably trying to convince yourself this isn’t real, but it is. it’s okay though! i’m not gonna hurt you, i just—ugh, i don’t know what to do! i’ve never bitten someone and let them live before.”

your lips were turned into a pout, but it was quickly wiped away when you saw the horror on choso’s face. a thought crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to believe it. before he knew it words were spilling past his lips, “do you know anything about those murders that have been happening?”

you wanted to shrink into a ball of nothingness. choso’s lips parted, then shut.

“i . . . i have no choice, cho! i need to feed so i can live, a-and the men i did kill were all bad people! i don’t kill innocents—people like you, people who have friends and families waiting for them at home. *sniffle* i-i promise i’m not the cold blooded killer you think i am.”

you were, actually, maybe even worse, but you’ve changed, and it was all thanks to choso! you’ve only met a handful of decent men in your life, and choso put them all to shame. he was so precious . . . so caring, loving, and naturally apologetic. you just wanted to put him in your miniskirt pocket and carry him around the world with you.

he didn’t say anything so you kept speaking, “these urges . . . they—they get so bad. it’s like my entire body is having a migraine. i’m in so much pain when i thirst, and i’ve almost hurt you before but—b-but i always left because i would rather get stabbed through the heart than ever hurt you, cho. i like you so much, i would never let anything bad happen to you.”

you hated that you were crying, showing him a weakness that no one, not even nanami has seen, but you couldn’t help it! if he turned you away, or god forbid told someone about you, that would mean you’d have to do the unthinkable, and that was the last thing wanted to do.

“you . . . you like me?”

you were slightly taken aback by the question, due to the other, more serious things you had said, but nonetheless you shook your head yes.

your brows raised when he stood up, towering over you like he was about to do something. your hands clenched into fists, prepared for whatever was about to happen.

a shaky gasp left your trembling lips when he cupped your face, thumbs brushing along the apples of your cheeks. “i’m so sorry you have to live like this, y/n,” he spoke lowly, a deep frown settling on his kiss bitten lips.

ugh, what an empath he was.

his eyes trailed to the fangs in your mouth. they were . . . cute. his thumb went down to brush over one, but you stopped him. “careful. you might cut yourself, and that’ll lead to more . . . you know.”

choso’s lip poked out, almost in a pout. with caution he swiped his thumb slowly over the sharp canine, and sure enough he felt a dull stinging sensation. you tried to back up, but he kept you in place.

“choso—seriously, you could get hurt, and i wouldn’t forgive myself. just please let me go so i can find someone else to feed on—”

“no.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “no? what do you mean no? i-i have to or—”

“feed off of me, y/n.”

you scoffed, giving choso’s chest a forceful shove. you were able to put some distance, but he was quick to close it, backing you up into the wall until your bodies were only centimeters apart.

“no. fucking. way. back up right now, i’m not doing that.” choso didn’t move an inch, in fact he got closer, so close his front was now touching yours.

“if you move another inch, i’m gonna push you. hard.”

a shiver ran down his spine at the threat, but it wasn’t a fearful one. fuckin’ perv.

“ . . . well—well, push me then. go ahead, y/n.”

when you didn’t move a muscle he sighed. “why won’t you let me help you? you don’t want to hurt anyone, right?” you let out a small sniffle, your head bowing in a nod.

“then let me help you, please—”

“it’s—it’s more complicated than that! even if you did let me, what next? i can’t do it forever, you and i both know that, so then what? and your blood type, it—it’s the rarest one out there, only a handful of people in the world have it. it’s too risky, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop myself.”

he didn’t say anything.

“aren’t you scared?”

his eyes flit the ground, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing. “yes, a little, maybe a lot, but i wanna help you, y/n. i don’t know what we’ll do after tonight, but—but we’ll figure it out! i-i still like you, fangs and all.”

you let out a small laugh through your nose, your arms crossing over your chest. “no you don’t . . . you’re probably just in shock, and not thinking clearly.”

“i think i’m okay with that.”

you gave him a confused look, and without warning choso pulled you close, tucking your face in his neck rather roughly. his large hand cradled the back of your head, holding you in place.

“i won’t tell anyone your secret, i promise. you’re always doing things for me, let me do something for you.” his tone was gentle, every word being whispered directly into your ear.

your nose twitched, the metallic smell of blood flooding your senses. your lips parted, then shut.

“o-oh!”

choso blinked rapidly, his hands pushing against the porcelain sink you had pushed him into. he let out a small laugh, “damn, you are strong.”

you didn’t bother to acknowledge the comment. “if we’re gonna do this . . . there is a way i can make this easier for you, less painful i guess.”

his eyebrows raised in question.

you let out a puff of air through your cheeks. “my fangs produce a sort of, um, venom? i guess you could call it that. its supposed to numb the bitten area, or something like that. i’ve only done it a few times—it makes my gums hurt afterwards so i don’t do it often.”

a beat of silence passed.

“i guess i’ll, um, do it from your neck since there’s already a mark. again, so sorry about that.”

out of instinct choso’s hand rubbed across the aching area on his neck. it didn’t hurt too bad, it felt like a dull bruise at the most, but even if it was painful, he’d endure it for you.

he sighed when your cold hand cupped his jaw. “the venom will help the healing process as well. m’so sorry, cho. i’ll explain more as best as i can in the morning.”

his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb tenderly rubbing the soft skin. “i’d appreciate that. we don’t have to go too in detail, but i—i have so many questions.”

“and they will all be answered in due time, i promise . . . i really appreciate you for doing this. your blood will keep my appetite at bay for days, it’s such a relief knowing i won’t have to get my hands dirty.”

choso’s heart skipped a beat when you softly pressed your lips against his, but it didn’t last long, a sharp breath slipping past his lips when you pulled away.

when your smaller hand enveloped his, he followed you like a lost puppy, eyes wide with wonder. his hands felt shaky, clammy, but not from fear, more like excitement.

he couldn’t believe this was real, this was actually happening.

now all the little odd things you did made sense to him. the blacked out curtains in your room that you kept closed twenty-four seven, your peculiar eating habits, the way you’d disappear for hours, sometimes even days, at a time.

“are you alright? you look a little spaced out . . . if you wanna back out that’s okay i don’t mind—”

“i wanna do it. m’just . . . thinking is all.”

“o—okay, well have a seat here,” you mumbled, using your hands to gesture to the couch. with no questions asked, choso sat down, adjusting this thighs in a way that would be comfortable for you to sit on.

the light from the tv illuminated your figure, and when he looked up he couldn’t see your face, only the dull glow of your eyes.

his abdomen clenched when your swung your leg over his thighs, your bottom now pressed against his crotch. choso immediately leant into your touch when you cupped his cheeks, his lips chasing after yours.

your lips met his in a hungry exchange, but you didn’t do it for too long, much to his dismay. “i got blood on my lips, that’s gross,” you whispered, giving the shell of his ear a tiny kiss, and then another on his jaw, and another on his neck.

choso nudged at your cheek with his nose, eyes squeezing shut to prepare himself.

“i’ll try to be gentle, can’t make any promises though,” and with that you sank your teeth into his neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the taste of him. it was indescribable. better than the oldest, most expensive wines ever made, and you trust you’ve had your share of them.

choso’s body had gone completely slack, his head tilting back against the couch. “this feels . . . ” his words trailed off, lips parting as an accidental moan leapt up his throat.

he could only describe the feeling of your venom as being heavily wine drunk. he couldn’t feel any pain, only the feeling of your tongue swiping against his neck. he felt hot, too hot for his own liking, and the most annoying part of it all was that he was starting to get hard again.

“a-am i doing okay?” his voice was breathy, and borderline whiny. you made a noise, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it, until you swiftly whipped your face from his neck, your chest heaving from deep breaths.

for once in your entire life you felt like you had finally had your fill. no lingering hunger resided in your belly for blood, only a hunger for choso, and choso only. you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so at peace.

“you did great. so, so good,” you murmured, nudging your nose against his. “does your neck hurt, you feel funny?”

you smelt like blood, the metallic scent had his insides twisting.

“no it doesn’t hurt, and i guess i feel fine . . . how do you feel?” his thumb hastily brushed against your bottom lip.

“i feel much, much better, but now i’m hungry for somethin’ else.” choso visibly shuddered when he heard the sound of your fangs retracting, your once crimson red eyes now back to their original, soft brown color.

now that you were at no risk of harming choso, you could finally smush your lips against his once more, blood smeared across your lips and all. choso’s lips parted, giving you quick access to slip your tongue inside his mouth.

you tasted like blood. it wasn’t an awful taste, but it was definitely a strange one.

“i-i thought you said kissing with blood on—on your lips is gross,” he panted, eyes squeezing shut when your bottom half brushed against his. your fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to give yourself access to his neck.

choso’s adams apple bobbed, eyes zeroing in on the ceiling. your lips ghosted over the tender beneath his jaw, little spots of blood still speckled around the area. your tongue darted out, gently gliding over the sensitive skin. “that feels n-nice,” he sighed dreamily, fingers digging into your sides.

choso was flushed all over. his clothes felt too tight, almost restrictive, he wanted them off—yours included.

“can i—can i touch you some more? l-like under your clothes?” you let out a small hum, giving him the green light to feel you up as he pleased, and boy did his hands wander. he started off by rubbing the bare skin of your hips, and then they drifted up your back, tracing random lines and shapes.

your lips connected with his once again, and that’s when his hands made a beeline for your behind, squeezing the soft flesh with need. “you’re so soft n’ smell s’good.” his words were slurred, heavy pants slipping past his kiss bitten lips.

you sucked on his bottom lip, and that’s what had him whining into your mouth, his hips bucking up. he was holding back, you could tell, and that just wouldn’t do for you.

“you’ve probably been waiting for this a long time, hm?” you whispered, peppering his flaming cheeks and nose with kisses. choso groaned, his head bowing in a shallow nod. you slowly slipped the straps of your top off, exposing your breasts, and choso wasted no time cupping them, his thumbs running over the petal soft skin.

“you have *kiss* *kiss* no idea,” he murmured into your collarbone. “it’s been so bad these past couple of weeks. couldn’t get you out of my head, y/n, not even video games helped.”

his arms wrapped around your waist, and with a low grunt he stood up, hands slithering down to cup your ass. “is it cool if i take you to my ro—!”

choso was cut off by your lips roughly smushing against his in a clash of tongue and teeth. he’ll take that as a yes.

when choso kicked open the door to his room your scenes were taken over by the overwhelming scent that was him—it was a homey scent, one that had you instantly relaxed.

he set you down gently on the edge of his bed, and knelt between your legs, hands caressing the bare skin of your thighs. “you’re so pretty. wanna kiss you all over—worship you. please let me.” your head tilted back, lips parting in a low moan when he sucked at the spot below your ear.

“s-sure, cho. do whatever you wan’ to me.”

choso whined into your neck, teeth grazing over your collarbone. “don’t say stuff like that, baby, because i will, and then we won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

baby. that was new.

choso kissed his way down your sternum until he reached your breast, lips immediately latching onto your nipple. the feeling of his tongue piercing swiping against the bud had your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip.

your hand cradled the back of his neck, pushing him more into your chest. “i don’t get tired, like at all, so we can go as long as you need to.” and it was true! not only did you have inhuman stamina, but you quite literally couldn’t get tired, even if you stayed up for days on end. you did enjoy an occasional cat nap during the day though.

choso tried to speak, but his words were muffled by the your chest, and even then he couldn’t find it in himself to move an inch.

his fingers looped onto the waistband of your pajama shorts, giving them an experimental tug. when you looked down, his purple irises were already staring back at you. you let out a small giggle, “ya’ know, i’ve never noticed how much your bags bring out the color of your eyes.”

choso scoffed, his lips cracking into the tiniest smile. “wow, thanks. i gotta say, that blood around your mouth n’ chin really brings out your eyes, erm, well i guess i should say your other eyes.” you both snickered, noses bumping into each other so cutely that if anyone were to see they’d gag from how adorable you two were.

choso’s lips captured yours in a soft kiss, and with one swift tug he pulled your pajama shorts off. you were almost completely bare for him, the only clothing on you being your panties and your top that was sitting underneath your breasts.

“what’re you gonna do now, hm?” you hummed, lips breaking out into a giddy smile.

“eat your pussy if that’s alright with you,” he grinned, looking up at you through his lashes while he pressed tiny kisses over the tops of your thighs.

your body flopped back against the mattress, and shortly after you spread your legs, finally giving choso a salivating view of your center. he was entranced—no, no, he was starstruck. his body count was particularly high, but out of all the girls he’s had the privilege to indulge in, you had the the prettiest pussy by far.

he felt like a dog, drool pooling on the tip of his tongue as he leant forward to get a better view. “can i—may i taste?” you didn’t respond, instead you just blindly reached for his head and pushed him down until you felt the tip of his nose graze over your folds.

choso didn’t know what the next day had in store for him, for all he knew this may be the last he’ll see you because he knows your secret, so for that reason he took his sweet time with you.

with a slow bat of his eyes, he poked the tip of his tongue out, and slowly circled it over your swollen clit. he kept doing then until your hips were weakly thrusting up, and then, and only then, did he finally cup your pussy with his tongue, swiping the muscle swiftly through your folds.

finally being able to get a taste of your essence could only be describe as heaven. seriously. choso wasn’t the type to moan while he ate pussy, only because it felt too embarrassing, but right now? he couldn’t have gave less of a shit about his volume.

“you’re so soft down here,” he muttered, sloppily rubbing his lips against your folds. he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you stated, your scent. he was addicted.

“h-hah! feels s’good, cho,” you mewled weakly, fingers threading through his brown locs. each time you gave his hair a sharp tug, he’d groan into your cunt. every stinging sensation from your pulling had his dick leaking like a faucet, surely staining the soft cotton of his briefs.

with shaky hands, you hooked them underneath the backs of your knees, and lifted your legs. choso followed your movements, and pushed your legs back even further, his entire mouth cupping your pussy.

his lips puckered, slurping up everything you had to offer him. the noises he was making were downright obscene—not a kiss, slurp, or suck gone unheard.

you could hear the way his heart raced, the way all the blood in his body pumped to his dick. it made your body feel hot all over, which was odd because you couldn’t particularly produce body heat.

“your pussy is so cute,” he breathily chuckled, using both thumbs to spread your lips. his tongue lolled out, a line of spit slowly dripping from the tip of it and onto your clit. “can i put a finger in? please? i’ll be so gentle, i-i promise.”

you pushed yourself up with your elbows, your cheeks puffing up in a deep exhale. “what about your hands? don’t they hurt?”

choso lifted his right hand, his fingers wiggling around freely. “my fingers are good see? s’just my palm, baby, don’t worry. i promise i’ll be gentle,” he murmured, giving the inside of your thigh a wet kiss.

and gentle he was. the second you gave him the green light, his middle finger began to gently prod at your entrance, and to relieve any potential pain he swiped his tongue piercing back and forth on your clit.

choso gnawed on his lip piercing, tugging the metal with his teeth as a form of restraint. “shit, that’s tight.” your walls felt velvet soft against his finger, sucking the digit back in each time he tried to pull it out.

“another one, please,” you whined, cupping your breasts softly. choso hummed, adding his ring finger into the mix ever so slowly. his fingers curled, and this had your eyes rolling back.

a white, translucent cream began to coat his fingers, and with a choked noise he pulled them out, shoving them past his lips seconds later. you whimpered at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“ith tho gooth,” he said, words coming out muffled due to a mouthful of fingers. he removed them from his mouth, and blindly wiped them on the sheets below you, before maneuvering himself on top of you, the bulge in his sweats now pressing snugly against your cunt.

one of his hands cupped your jaw, and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. his thumb pushed down on your chin, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in your mouth. he tasted like you; sweet, yet tangy.

you both moaned in unison when choso’s hips started to move. he just couldn’t help it, and it felt soooo good. the way the soft material of his sweats rubbed against your clit had you drooling, and choso shamelessly licked it up, his tongue swiping across the center of yours.

your hands wandered across his back, feeling every ridge and muscle over his shirt. he was so strong, and his skin was piping hot to the touch over over his clothes.

“off,” you whispered, tugging at the thin material, “wan’ it off of you.” choso moaned against your lips, giving them one final peck before sitting back on his knees. he shirt was off instantly, tossed to the side without a care.

choso let out a small noise of surprise when your foot pressed against his pecs, moving lower until you stopped at his lower tummy. “you’re so handsome, cho. ‘could just eat you up,” you giggled, nudging your foot against his bulge. choso groaned, his hand wrapping around your ankle.

“don’t—don’t do that, please. i’m already about to fuckin’ bust over here,” he chuckled breathlessly, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“mm, really?” your lips lifted in a lazy smirk before you nudged his clothed cock again, earning a breathy moan from choso.

“you like that?”

“m-mhmmm,” you weren’t even moving your foot at the point, choso was doing it for you, gently moving it up and down the length of his cock. “f-feels nice. it was starting to—ngh, h-hurt a little,” his lips broke out into a drunk smile and before you knew it choso was using your foot to get himself off.

“if you cum like this i might just have to laugh at you,” you grinned up at him, pressing your foot down harder. choso was squeezing your ankle impossibly tight, so hard that if you weren’t who you were, he’d be worried about leaving bruises.

his lips puffed up in a pout, nose scrunching in pleasure and embarrassment. “m’not gonna cum like this, i just—i just needed a little relief. fuck me.”

there was now a small wet patch on the front of his sweats, growing bigger and bigger as the minutes passed.

“cho?” you murmured, completely in awe of the state he was in. choso hummed, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

“you want me to help you out?”

his nod was eager, and with one harsh tug, he pulled the waistband of his sweats and briefs down, exposing his poor, sensitive dick. hung was an understatement, this man was so big it had you questioning yourself.

“w-what do you want me to do? want me to lay down, stand? just tell me, and i’ll do it.” although choso was towering over you, he had never felt so smell under your intimidating gaze. you looked like you wanted to eat him up, and he was more than willing to allow it.

that’s how he ended up bare, on his back, with you sitting on top of his stomach, a mischievous grin on your lips.

your eyes trailed to his neck, and with a single look from you, he turnt his head to the side giving you a better view. the healing process for the wound on his neck was already starting, now fixing to form into a dull scar.

“this should be fully healed by morning,” you whispered, stroking his collarbone with your knuckle. you fingers danced their way to his jaw, gripping it with little force. his lips parted in a silent plea for a kiss. you happily obliged, leaning down with quickness to suck his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss didn’t last long, unfortunately, but you made it up by tenderly kissing every inch of skin you could reach on your slow decent down his body.

“h-ho, geez,” he gasped, hands clenching into fists when your tongue swirled over his pierced nipple. you giggled between kisses, your tongue poking out to run over the ridges of his abs. “did you like that?” you asked, gently flicking his nipple.

choso brushed his damp hair out of his face, “y-yeah, i did. i liked it a lot.”

noted.

your hands trailed down his muscly thighs as you kissed lower, and lower, until you reached where he needed you most.

his dick was pretty. pale, with a dark pink tip, and a patch of dark hair below the base of it. his was tip was shiny, gleaming from his bedside lamp. “so big . . .” you murmured, wrapping your hand around the thick appendage. the veins wrapped along it thrummed against your fingers, begging to be relieved.

choso was sure he wouldn’t last very long, and unfortunately, he was correct, because the second he felt the warmth of your tongue trace along the thick vein on the underside, he was knew he was a goner.

“oh shitttt.”

your lips wrapped around his swollen tip, tongue grazing over his leaky slit. he tasted sweet, which was expected due to his healthy diet.

your cheeks hollowed, and that’s what had choso’s jaw dropping, tongue damn near falling out of his mouth. his dick twitched in your mouth, and you sucked harder, little dribbles of spit spilling from the corners of your mouth.

“hah—y/n, baby, that feels fuckin’ great,” he all but purred, resting his arms behind his head. when you peered at him through your lashes, your eyes zeroed in on his biceps. they were so big n’ muscly, you just wanted to bite them—but in a loving way!

he followed your gaze, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “heh, you wan’ me to flex for you, or somethin’?”

you pulled off his dick, lips swollen, and nostrils flared as you tried to catch your breath. your hand wrapped around his base, stroking it quickly while your other hand squeezed his balls. “maybe later . . . careful though, i might take a bite out of you.”

choso grinned, a laugh rumbling in his chest, but it was quickly overtaken by a loud moan. did you just—did you just bite him again?

he looked down at you, and sure enough there you were, teeth latched onto his thigh while your hand continued to work his cock. your tongue ran over the mark on his thigh, and with a quiet giggle, you gave the tender, reddened skin a soft kiss.

you were shocked when choso’s hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements.

“if you—ngh, stroke it again m’gonna cum. seriously, like i’m—i’m not k-kidding.” his nose and eyebrows were scrunched in pure concentration, balls throbbing for the feeling of release.

“get up here, ride me. you’ve been around a long time right? surely you can show me a few tricks,” his smile looked strained, and it was! he wasn’t doing himself any favors in this moment, imagining you on top of him, riding him like you hated his guts. god this was starting to hurt.

you gave his cock a final sloppy kiss at the base, and slowly crawled your way up the bed until your lower half was hovering over his. his cock twitched, grazing over your cunt for only a millisecond, but it was enough to have choso whimpering.

you balanced yourself on the balls of your feet, hands moving behind you to find purchase on his thighs for stability.

“i do know a thing or two,” you murmured, pressing your pussy against his cock. fuck, he felt so hot. choso’s lashes fluttered, “sit on it. please, please just—just sit on it.”

if choso could describe the feeling of being inside you, he wouldn’t know what to say, because the feeling is indescribable. maybe euphoric would be a good word? you fit together perfectly, like the worlds most fucked up puzzle.

he didn’t feel that warm sensation like he did from other girls, but that was to be expected due to you not radiating any kind of body heat. you were wet though, very wet, and mind numbingly soft.

he was gasping for air, words coming out a garbled, choked up mess, “t-this feels . . .”

“good right?” your words came out as a fluttery sigh, your hips now moving in slow circles. choso’s head fell back into his stack of pillows, hands finding purchase on your thighs.

“so fuckin’ good, babe,” he grunted, eyes zeroing in on the way your pussy gripped him, the way it struggled to take each inch of him. you’re the only girl that’s been able to take more than half of his nine inch length, not the he was bragging of course, in fact he was a little embarrassed about it. not even his pocket pussy that he whipped out for special occasions could fit all of him :(

shlick! shlick! shlick!

the sounds of your pussy sucking choso’s cock in was the only sound that could heard throughout the room, that and choso’s high pitched whimpers.

“you wan’ me to go faster?”

choso nodded, tongue lolling out of his mouth, followed by heavy pants. you giggled, moving your hips in quick figure eights. “you look n’ sound like a fuckin’ dog, cho. are you a dog?”

your hips had unexpectedly dropped, engulfing the entirety of choso’s cock in your cunt. his lips parted, a loud moan echoing throughout the room. “y-yes, yes i am—fuck, mm’a fuckin’ dog,” he uttered through grit teeth. his dick throbbed between your walls, release already just inches away.

“y-yeah, yeah, fuck me like that. just like that, baby, please keep going. c’mere, come closer,” choso panted, using all of his strength to sit up, and pull you closer to him. his arms wrapped around your waist, smushing your bodies together until there was no space to be seen.

your hands wandered across his upper back, eventually finding themselves to the hairs at the nape of his neck. you pulled him in for a heated kiss, and at the same time started to move your hips, the new angle making you see stars.

“ngh—s’real deep,” you were shocked by the shakiness in your voice, but you truly couldn’t help it, not with the way choso’s tip was prodding against that spot that had your toes curling.

he was so rough, yet gentle. quick, yet oh so sensual. you could fell all those weeks of yearning he pushed down with each brush of his hands against your skin. he was feeling you up anywhere he could—from your lower back, to your thighs, to your breasts. he couldn’t get enough.

“mm, shit—you cumming? you feel real—”

choso’s words came out muffled when your hand slapped across his mouth, your head tilting back in a high pitched moan. “yes, y-yes, i’m cumming. hush for a second,” your brows furrowed in concentration as you chased your high, and choso just watched in awe. his eyes were low and lidded, and if it weren’t for your hand being smushed against his lips, he’d be drooling.

god, you were perfect. he liked you so much, maybe a little too much if you really thought about it, but who’s thinking right now?

your cunt convulsed around his cock, white, translucent pearls of cum dripping down the base and onto the bedsheets. your hand had moved from his mouth, and joined your other in clawing at his back, crimson red lines now raising in their wake.

choso could feel the cool air brushing against his new wounds, and his veins ran cold. not out of terror, nor fear, but something else.

the trembles in your body were slowly fading away, and yet, you were still holding choso close to you in an iron grip, your face now buried in his neck. the smell of blood hit you like a semi, of course, but for some reason you didn’t get the overwhelming urge to bite him. it still smelt like heaven though. it had saliva pooling on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips.

maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

“ . . . that smells nice,” you whispered into his skin, middle finger swiping over the scratches on his back. you removed your face from his neck, your eyes finding his. “may i ? . . . wanna do this the right way this time—if there’s even a right way for this,” you both laughed, and with a deep inhale through his nose, choso nodded, uttering out a tiny ‘please.’

with no hesitation your lips wrapped your finger, and fuck, this was some good shit. you still had trouble believing such a delectable thing existed. you moaned around your finger, pulling it from your mouth with a quiet pop!

his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something. your lips curled into a lazy smirk, “can i have some more?” before you had even finished your sentence, choso dumbly shook his head, chest heaving from pure adrenaline.

he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing you in your true form—eyes deep red, and teeth bared, ready to sink your teeth in his skin. he figured you would go for his neck, and tilted his head to the side to give you better access, but you had other plans.

your manicured fingers gripped his jaw, turning him towards you, “later. i want you to keep fucking me.”

choso truly didn’t need to be told twice.

he lifted you off his cock with ease, teeth clenching together in a hiss at the cool temperature that greeted him. maybe he was too fucked out, but he could’ve sworn you had gotten warmer around him.

he flipped your body over, lifting your hips up to position you on all fours. your body relaxed into the pillow he placed beneath your tummy, and with a dreamy sigh, you began to sway your hips.

“since you think m’such a dog, might as well fuck you like one right?” he chuckled, swiping his tips between your soaked folds. shockingly, his crappy joke made you laugh, and the melodic sound had his heart tightening.

you slowly turned your head back, locking at eyes with him. your lips curled into a smile when you heard him audibly gulp.

“you scared?”

choso slowly shook his head, eyes softening.

“ . . . no. you’re just so fucking pretty. even with . . . you know,” he trailed off, chuckling as he gestured to his eyes and teeth. your stomach twisted, and with a small squeak your whipped your head back around. “thank you,” you muttered into the sheets, biting back a smile.

choso grinned, gently caressing the skin of your ass. had he made you . . . flustered?

he slowly pushed his tip between your folds, groaning at the stretch. “do i got the little murderous vampire all shy now?” he chucked, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip. you whined, wiggling your hips against him. choso gently pushed down on your back, deepening your arch.

“gotta make sure you feel me allll the way,” in one swift movement, he pushed himself in to the hilt, “in here.” his hand swooped underneath you to push against your tummy, earning a loud squeak from you.

“tell me how you feel, now. tell me how it feels.” his eyes were clenched shut, meanwhile his hands were gripping onto your hips for dear life.

your lips parted, but no words were able to come out, only a pathetic wheeze. choso slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, creating a slow, steady rhythm. “c’mon, baby. talk to me,” he grunted.

your arms outstretched, nails clawing at his bedsheets from pleasure. “full . . .” was all you managed to get out between cries and hiccups. your mind was a muddled mess, all of your senses consumed by choso.

his slow pace didn’t last long, and next thing you knew he was pounding you into the mattress. his foot was perched on the bed, meanwhile one of his hands was pushing your face further, and further into the bed.

“this fuckin’ pussy,” he gasped out, eyes flitting to the mess between your bodies. your essence clung to his sweaty skin, creating thin webs with each clap of his hips against your rippling ass.

“faster! f-faster!” you pleaded, throwing your ass back to match his thrusts. the feeling of his cock nudging deep inside was like a high you kept chasing, you just couldn’t get enough!

“mm, baby wants it faster? no problem.” you gasped when you were suddenly yanked up by your hair, your body slotting against choso’s perfectly. his arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

choso couldn’t help but coo at the way you nibbled on his bicep. it hurt so good. so much so that when you actually bit him, and started feeding, all he could do was go cross eyed, his knees nearly buckling.

“jesus christ, a warning would’a been—hah, n-nice,” he whined into your neck, thrusts coming to a halt. shivers ran up his back, that same dizzy feeling from earlier overcoming him once more. you responded with a noise that was a cross between a moan, and a giggle.

“ngh, this—this feels amazing, o-oh my—”

choso’s ears started to ring, his orgasm washing over him in harsh waves. he wanted to hold back, he really did, but you had him completely weakened, mind and body nothing but a pile of mush.

your eyes fluttered shut, a content moan rumbling in your chest at the feeling of warmth that flooded your tummy. you couldn’t even remember the last time a guy fucked you so good that you let him finish inside you.

you retracted your fangs from his arm, tongue lolling out to lick up any excess blood. choso whimpered behind you, and without warning he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. hard.

you yelped, body going completely limp in his strong hold. “how do you like it, hm?” he growled in your ear, poking his tongue out to run over the shell of it. you let out a small, breathless laugh, “heh. i can s-see why people don’t like it too much.”

choso slowly pulled out with a hiss, his eyes flitting to his cock that was a glistening, creamy mess. he wanted you to clean him up, suck him off until you were gagging around his dick, but that would to have wait because unfortunately for you, choso still hasn’t had his fill.

he twisted you around onto your back, roughly pushing your knees to your chest. he pressed a kiss to the center of your food before tapping his fat tip against your clit, relishing in the way your mewled at the contact.

“she’s so fat n’ cute,” he grinned, slipping his cock between your puffy folds. you covered your face in embarrassment, but he was quick to slap them away. he’d be damned if you obstructed the most perfect view a person could have.

“c-cho—”

“shhh, listen.”

your embarrassment increased tenfold, the sound of his cock rubbing in between your folds becoming deafening.

“ugh, just put it in, you big brute,” you sniffled, fangs catching onto your bottom lip. choso noticed this, and leant down, “don’t bite too hard. don’t want ya to hurt yourself.” his voice was sweet and low, sending shivers up your back. he didn’t move until you nodded, and released your lip.

“good girl,” he murmured, letting a glob of spit fall from between his lips and onto your clit. while his thumb roughly rolled over your swollen nub, he slowly began to push his cock inside once more, slipping in with ease.

your back arched, thighs beginning shake from your already nearing orgasm. “fast, cho, faster,” you pleaded, pulling your knees back further. choso groaned, quickening the pace of his hips. he could’ve easily cum once again seeing how flexible you were.

he just wanted to fill you up over, and over again . . . and he did. until you physically had to stop him because the poor boy could barely keep up with himself.

he was on his back once more, chest heaving rapidly while you sat on top on his stomach, pinning his hands above his head. it was nearing four a.m. and for once in your life, you were utterly exhausted. you had never met another human being with stamina like him, it actually frightened you a bit.

“you can barely keep your eyes open, yet you want more . . . what’s up with that?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. all choso could do was shrug and thrust his hips up. you were using quite a bit of strength this time, so he really couldn’t move.

“well i need a break,” you spoke softly, releasing one of his wrists so you could cradle his face, “and you do too. how about you get some sleep, yeah?”

you could’ve melted at the way choso pouted, his brows scrunching up oh so cutely. he didn’t fight you, or protest, instead he just nodded, drowsiness already beginning to overtake him.

“you’re gonna sleep in here, right?”

“if you want me to i will, though i do have to be somewhere at seven,” you whispered, releasing your grip on him entirely. you moved off of his stomach, and got comfy before nuzzling into his side, your hand coming up to tenderly rub on his stomach.

“don’t you—don’t need me to clean you up?” he mumbled, eyes now shut from sleepiness. you made a noise of disapproval, and shook your head, “i’ll be fine, just get some rest. don’t forget you do have work in a few hours.”

choso didn’t need to be told twice and within minutes you began to hear small snores from his parted lips, his racing heartbeat now at a calm, steady rhythm. you were seriously going to have to introduce this boy to some herbal tea with the way he’s constantly worked up.

“mm, this calls a for a little cat nap,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling more into choso’s side. his arms wrapped around you tighter, chin now resting on the crown of your head. his toned chest was now centimeters away from your face, and unfortunately your intrusive thoughts won, because the last thing you remembered before dozing off was nibbling on his chest to soothe the ache in your gums.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“thank you for finally gracing me with your presence. following you around has been rather tiresome.”

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to entertain nanami’s comment as you took a sip of your matcha. it had been five months since you’ve seen him, and they’ve been the most peaceful months of your life. why hadn’t you thought of getting a roommate sooner?

you set your cup down rather obnoxiously, your arms folding together as you leant back in your chair. “is there any particular reason why you called this meeting? the sun is supposed to be at a uv nine today. i’d like to get home soon.”

that was an actual reason, but what you really wanted to do was see choso. you’d been thinking about him, and his lovely scent since you stepped foot out of your apartment.

saying getting out of bed that morning would be an understatement—that shit was one of the hardest trials of your life! choso had refused to let you get out of bed, not even caring that his sore hands were screaming in pain as he held you in place. you had no other choice but to slowly fuck him back to sleep, your leg thrown over his waist while he delivered slow strokes until he was cumming with a loud whine.

after he dozed off you were finally able to slip out of his grasp and leave, but not before internally melting at how cute his cheeks looked when they were puffy from sleep.

nanami took a long, slow sip of his coffee. “how’s your roommate?”

you shuffled in your seat, “he’s fine, nothing new.”

“ah, so he’s still with us?”

you frowned, eyes narrowing at the blonde. “of course he is. i told you i won’t, and still don’t plan on harming him. we’ve formed . . . a sort of bond. we’re friends.”

“yes, yes. i’d be pretty chummy with a human too if i found out their blood type was o-negative. it’s got to rather painful to control the urges though, no?”

you froze, breath getting caught in your throat. now how the hell did he know that?!

he took your silence as an answer and continued to speak, “i could smell it on you the second you walked in here. you fed off of him, but i still can’t decide if you’re telling the truth about him being dead or not. i’m sure you know what’ll happen if the council finds out you’ve exposed yourself to a human, and let them live.”

your lips parted to speak, then shut. you were at a complete loss, mind boggled at how nanami was able to figure it out.

“how—how do you know it’s his and not someone else’s, hm? you have no idea what you’re talking about kenny,” you spoke softly, voice shaking the tiniest bit.

nanami set his mug aside, and leant on the table, his now crimson eyes piercing into yours. “i’ve been following your friend around a little bit, and i’m sure you know a scent like his is hard to miss.”

a beat of silent passed, and then another.

“w-why . . . why’re you following him around?! he’s done nothing wrong!” you could feel your temper rising. the mere thought of nanami stalking him without his knowledge had your blood boiling. “choso is innocent in all this, he doesn’t need to be stalked or harassed by you.”

“who said anything about harassing him? i just wanted to make sure that he was still alive, and not asking too many questions about his roommate . . . but it seems any questions he had about you have been answered. i know you fed off of him y/n. there is no use in lying. my problem is, instead of finishing the job, you let him live. i am sworn by an oath to watch over you, and clean up any messes you make—”

“i was not going to kill an innocent man because of something that was my fault,” you growled, voice lowering two octaves. “you don’t even know the full story of what happened, or what was said, so you are in no position to decide whether choso lives or dies.”

nanami’s expression was bored, and unamused, like he couldn’t be bothered to hear what you had to say.

“he promised to keep my secret, and i believe him. i couldn’t really give less of shit if you believe him or not, all that matters is that i do, and i have a great intuition. besides who would believe him anyway? there’s scarier, more violent things than us on the subways. i think we’ll be okay.”

nanami took another sip of his coffee, “and if he starts spouting nonsense about how vampires are real, then what?”

your head cocked to the side, and you smiled, but it wasn’t a sincere one, it almost looked sinister. “then i’ll kill him where he stands, and flee the city. i already have my next destination in mind if shit goes left.”

your stomach twisted, almost painfully. you didn’t mean anything you said, not a word of it, but you had to play it up for kento. god, even the thought of laying a threatening hand on choso made you nauseous.

“but what about the council? my oath—”

“geeeez, you and this goddamn oath—who cares?! the council is all the way across the sea in europe. what they don’t know won’t kill them, and if they find out about what i did, i will accept any consequences given to me.”

nanami scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “why do you care so much for this human? you’ve never gone out of your way to accept such a fate for anyone, why him?”

you didn’t quite know the answer to that yourself.

“i’ve grown fond of him, like i said before, we’re friends,” you spoke softly, eyes drifting to the couple that was sitting a few tables away from you. they were giggling and laughing together without a care in the world, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how much you missed the simplicity of caring and loving for another being.

your eyes flit back to nanami’s, lowering in a glare. “i mean it, ken. if you, or—or anyone, tries to harm him because of something he didn’t choose to know . . . i’ll—i’ll—”

“you’ll what?”

“i’ll kill you. i don’t know how, but i will. i appreciate you for cleaning up my messes, lord knows i’d probably be dead for real without you, but i don’t think this requires your attention. i hope you can understand that, because as long as i’m around, choso will remain alive and well.”

“hi! can i get you two anything else?”

the stare down that you and kento were having was interrupted by a bubbly waitress. you didn’t say anything, instead you just continued to stare at him, your face expressionless.

nanami blinked once, twice, thrice.

“no, i think we’re done here. thank you for taking such good care of us, dear,” he spoke lowly, offering the waitress a small smile, and a fifty dollar bill. she swooned of course, mentioning something along the lines of hoping to see him again soon, and you all but gagged watching the interaction.

after the waitress walked away, nanami cleared his throat. “i hope you know what you’re doing, y/n. keep in touch,” and with that he was gone, leaving you stunned, and nearly on the verge of tears.

was he convinced? was your choso safe?

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[synvil]

Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

pt. 2 with JJ Maybank !!

[dksfml]

LOVE 119 [PART II]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. masterlist.

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is hot when jealous, suggestive, fluff summary: your coworkers think that you and niki look cute together while jungwon, your boyfriend is literally standing next to you and it's driving him insane. word count: 3.5k author's note: hey everyone! as promised, i'm here to serve another paramedic jungwon brainrot because it's not fair to just devour this cutesy alone. enjoy and leave some notes <3 read part 1 first and reply if you want to get tagged for the next parts!

You’re midway through a lukewarm coffee in the hospital cafeteria when your coworker leans in, voice low and eyes gleaming with intrigue. “So…” she starts, drawing the word out slowly, “who’s the lucky guy?”

It takes you a second, but the question sinks in just as she tilts her head, nodding toward your neck with a smirk. Your hand instinctively rises to the spot Jungwon’s lips had claimed last night, right at the juncture of your neck and shoulder—a parting gift as you’d curled up together, something you didn’t think twice about until now.

A blush surges to your cheeks. “What? Oh, no, that’s… I scratched it too hard,” you say quickly, heat rising not only from the surprise but the memory of last night—Jungwon’s sleepy grin, the way he’d pulled you close, whispering in your ear as he pressed soft kisses down the curve of your neck.

“Sure you did,” she teases, crossing her arms as her smirk widens. “You’re going to need a better excuse than that. So… is it Niki?”

“What?” you laugh, the idea so out of the blue it’s almost comical. “Niki? Why would you even think that?”

She shrugs, the smugness on her face never faltering. “You always have a soft spot for him. You never scold him like the rest of us. Plus, everyone’s seen the way he hovers around you in the halls, he’s clearly smitten.”

Your eyes widen at the notion. Niki, your young, eager junior who fumbles his way through shifts and who you can’t help but look after because he’s new and a little too starry-eyed for his own good? It’s laughable. “It’s not like that,” you manage, shaking your head. “He’s just… young, that’s all.”

“Mhmm,” she says with a knowing chuckle. “Sure, if you say so.”

Before you can protest further, your phone vibrates. Glancing down, you find a message from Jungwon: a photo of his lunch, neatly arranged with a sweet message beneath it. “Eat well, ily.”

The casual intimacy of it makes your stomach flip, and you feel an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You quickly swipe away the notification, hoping she didn’t see the smile or the faint hearts in your eyes.

The day unfolds in the usual rush of patient check-ins, chart updates, and emergency calls. You busy yourself to the point where the cafeteria conversation drifts from your mind—until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the break room mirror and spot the faint outline of that now-infamous hickey, the concealer having barely managed to mask it. You tug your collar higher, hoping to hide it through the rest of the shift.

The afternoon in the ER has been a blur of movement and urgency, leaving you barely a moment to breathe. Every time an ambulance pulls up, your heart skips a beat, half-hoping, half-dreading that it’ll be Jungwon walking through those doors.

But each time, it’s someone else, and you return to the steady rhythm of your work, instructing Niki at your side as he follows your lead. Despite the tense environment, he’s attentive and focused, learning from you as he manages each step of the patient’s treatment with remarkable ease.

Afterward, you and Niki head back to the department office, the adrenaline settling as you both chat lightly, unwinding from the chaotic pace. As you enter, you spot Jungwon down the corridor, heading the other way with a stack of documents.

It’s almost comical how, even amidst the bustling hospital, his presence stands out so starkly to you. For a split second, he glances your way, and the fleeting moment feels charged, pulling your attention and making it impossible to look away. But as soon as your eyes meet, you glance down, hoping no one notices how that brief connection leaves your pulse racing.

Once back at your desk, you feel your coworkers’ eyes on you, their curious glances flickering between you and Niki. You try to brush it off as nothing, settling into your usual seat, with Niki across from you. Just as you’re starting to sift through some files, Jungwon’s familiar stride enters the department office.

His easy confidence fills the room, and he greets everyone with that understated charm, heading to a nearby colleague to ask for specific documents. You’re not even looking at him, but his presence is impossible to ignore. You focus on your papers, hoping that looking busy might steady your nerves, but the pages blur in front of you, your mind too distracted by the fact that he’s just a few steps away.

Then, just as you’re juggling a pile of documents, you accidentally knock over your iced coffee. The mostly empty cup clatters over, spilling what’s left onto your coat. The moment the coffee splashes onto your coat, Niki and Jungwon are both at your side in an instant. Niki’s quick to pull out a box of tissues, while Jungwon silently holds out a pristine handkerchief, a touch of annoyance already flickering in his gaze.

Caught off-guard, you instinctively reach for Niki’s tissues, leaving Jungwon standing there with his handkerchief, his jaw tightening slightly as he watches you dab at the stain.

Your coworkers notice the scene and immediately latch onto it, their laughter filling the room. "Oh, come on, you two," one of them teases, grinning at the pair of you. "Why don’t you just date already?”

Another chimes in, "Yeah, it’s obvious there’s something going on. I mean, look how attentive Niki is—always ready to help you out."

You wave them off, laughing it away, but the teasing only grows louder. Someone else playfully nudges Niki. "What’s next, bringing her coffee in the morning?"

Niki laughs, scratching the back of his head, visibly flustered. "Come on, guys, we’re just… coworkers," he insists, though his blush only adds fuel to the fire.

Meanwhile, you can feel Jungwon’s gaze on you, sharper and more intense than ever. His silence speaks volumes; the usual relaxed confidence he carries seems to be tinged with something harder, a jealousy that simmers just beneath the surface. It unsettles you, tugging at something guilty inside as the teasing around you grows.

Suddenly, Jungwon steps forward to you, interrupting the chatter with a clipped tone. "Enough with the tissues,” he says, leveling his gaze at you, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Stop fussing with that coat—you’re only making it worse. Change into something clean, or the smell will stick with you all day.”

The room falls silent, your coworkers exchanging amused glances. You roll your eyes, unwilling to let him get the last word.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Practicality. I can handle a few drops of coffee,” you retort, folding your arms and meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin.

He raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

"Right, because dealing with a coffee stain is something you’re well-prepared for," he says dryly, folding his arms to match yours. "Clearly, practicality isn’t your strong suit."

You scoff, refusing to back down. "And since when did you become an expert in coffee stain management? It’s barely noticeable, and I’m perfectly fine with it."

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, the challenge sparking between you both as he leans in just a fraction, his voice lower. "Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t mean everyone else is." His eyes flick down to the stain and then back up to yours, a knowing glint in them.

Your coworkers are watching with raised brows, amused but also visibly intrigued by the tension between the two of you. "Are we interrupting something?” one of them jokes, breaking the silence. "Honestly, the way you two bicker is like a married couple."

The comment makes you blush, but Jungwon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he holds your gaze, his smirk deepening. "At least one of us knows how to handle these little emergencies,” he quips, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something raw behind his eyes—a hint of jealousy that only you can catch. The way he’s looking at you, there’s no mistaking it: he’s anything but amused by the teasing around Niki.

But before you can respond, Niki steps forward, awkwardly placing his coat over your chair. “Um, here,” he says, clearly trying to ease the tension. “You can wear mine for now if the coffee’s bothering you that much.”

The room erupts into more laughter, someone nudging Niki with a grin. "See? He’s a gentleman. Really, you two should just make it official."

Another coworker teases, "Or maybe they already have, and they’re just not telling us."

Jungwon’s expression hardens as he watches the exchange, his eyes narrowing. His gaze flickers from Niki to you, a frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.

You feel the tension growing, an almost tangible weight of jealousy in the way his jaw clenches, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Finally, he speaks up, cutting through the laughter with a controlled but slightly irritated tone. "Enough of the matchmaking." His gaze falls pointedly on you, something possessive flickering there, though he masks it quickly. "And you should change. That coffee smell won’t just vanish."

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to back down. "If it bothers you so much, why don’t you bring me a change of clothes yourself?"

"Thanks," he says shortly, taking the stack of paperwork with a polite nod. He turns back to you and your coworkers, offering a quick, “See you all later. Take care, everyone.” His voice is casual, but as his gaze lingers on you for a fraction of a second longer, you feel the weight of everything left unsaid.

With that, Jungwon strides toward the door, his usual self-assured calm back in place. You watch him leave, but just as he reaches the exit, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, your pulse quickening as you read the message from him:

“I have something you can change into in the back of the car.”

It’s simple, yet there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You glance up just in time to catch Jungwon’s silhouette disappearing down the hallway, feeling the tension of the moment linger in the air long after he’s gone.

The rest of your shift rolls by with its usual demands, and you brush off the incident from earlier, deciding against getting the change of clothes Jungwon offered. By the time you finally clock out, the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the nearly empty parking lot. Just as you step out of the hospital doors, Jungwon’s car pulls up in front of the exit.

You feel a small smile tugging at your lips as you walk over and slip into the passenger seat. “Hey,” you greet him, but his focus remains straight ahead, his hands firm on the wheel, his paramedic uniform clinging to his form. The sight of him in that navy blue uniform, complete with the badge and patches, usually makes your heart race, but today his expression is unreadable. A flicker of surprise hits you. Jungwon, who is usually quick with a playful remark, doesn’t even turn his head as you settle in, leaving you feeling a bit deflated.

You tilt your head, watching him closely, noticing the slightest crease of annoyance in his brow. With a slight pout, you try breaking the ice, “So, how was your day?”

He answers, but his tone is clipped, barely more than a few words. "Busy. The usual."

You blink, feeling a hint of tension in the air. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes or filling the car with easy chatter, but now he’s focused on the road with a seriousness that feels almost uncharacteristic.

Leaning back in your seat, you give him a sideways glance. “Is this about the clothes?” you finally ask, crossing your arms as you look at him. “Are you upset I didn’t change into them?”

A quick denial. “No,” he says, a bit too fast, but still refusing to look your way.

You can’t help but smile a little, noticing his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual. “Uh-huh. Doesn’t sound like you’re not upset,” you tease, leaning forward to get a better look at his face.

“I’m not upset,” he repeats, but he’s biting his lip, eyes fixed stubbornly ahead as if he’s hyper-focused on the road. His brow furrows, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Come on, Jungwon, it’s cute when you sulk,” you say, your smile widening at the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly, revealing his irritation in the most subtle way.

This finally gets a reaction. He glances at you, his eyes narrowing just a little. “I’m not sulking,” he mumbles, but the denial lacks its usual conviction.

“You look pretty sulky to me,” you murmur, enjoying the rare moment of catching him off guard.

Just then, the car comes to a stop at a red light, and you glance over to find him holding a long breath, his expression somewhere between frustration and fondness. The tension in the air shifts slightly as he turns his gaze towards you, and in that moment, you feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Without breaking eye contact, he places his right hand gently on your lap, rubbing small circles with his thumb. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting that familiar spark between you two. It’s a simple gesture, yet it feels so intimate, especially with the way he’s staring at you as if he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say out loud.

He resumes driving as the light turns green, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but his voice softens, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the usual bravado. “I’m not upset,” he assures you, though the sincerity behind his words hints at something deeper, something he’s wrestling with beneath the surface.

You can’t help but smile at him, the weight of his earlier mood lifting slightly. “Then what’s with the whole silent treatment? You know you can just tell me, right?”

Jungwon shakes his head, a faint smile creeping onto his face despite his mood.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, his voice maintaining a lightness that’s undercut by an earnest edge. “I don’t want to be the guy who gets all worked up over people assuming you and Niki are a thing.”

You bite your lip, the realization sinking in that his jealousy is more about their perceptions than the spilled coffee earlier.

“Well, I’m definitely not dating Niki,” you reply softly, trying to ease his tension. “He’s just a good coworker. You know that.”

He glances at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile as he focuses back on the road.

“Good,” he mutters, his hand still gently rubbing your thigh, sending tingles coursing through you. The intimacy of the gesture makes your heart race.

He passes another intersection and accelerates, the car moving smoothly through the streets.

“But you know,” you continue, trying to keep the mood light, “if you were just a little quicker with your offer, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this teasing.”

Jungwon lets out a soft chuckle, the tension in the car easing slightly. “I thought I was quick enough,” he says, a playful tone returning to his voice. “How was I supposed to know you’d be so stubborn?”

“Stubborn? Me? Never,” you tease, rolling your eyes dramatically.

He shakes his head with a laugh, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh, a subtle reminder of the unspoken bond between you two. As he navigates the streets, the silence stretches comfortably, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of traffic.

“Hey, you should know,” you add after a moment, “if you want to make sure I’m not wearing Niki’s clothes, maybe you should just… keep me in yours.”

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Is that your way of saying you want me to dress you?”

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, biting your lip again, the playful banter making you feel bold.

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls into a quiet parking lot. “You really know how to make me feel like I’m the jealous one, huh?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you say, leaning back into the seat, enjoying the rhythm of the moment.

As he turns off the engine, the atmosphere shifts slightly, the playful banter fading into a more intimate silence. Jungwon finally meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Just so you know, it’s not about Niki. I just…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “I want to be the one you lean on, the one you trust.”

Your heart swells at his confession, a warmth spreading through you. “You are, Jungwon. You’re the one I always want to lean on.”

He smiles, a genuine light returning to his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right.

When you arrive at your apartment, Jungwon opens the door for you, the familiar scent of your space washing over you. As soon as you step inside, he follows closely behind, and before you can even set your bag down, he closes the door and turns to face you.

In an instant, the air between you shifts. Jungwon steps forward, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. You barely have time to react before he captures your lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss that takes your breath away. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you and the electric tension that crackles in the air.

His lips move against yours with a fervor that surprises you, and you feel your heart racing, responding instinctively as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, his mouth coaxing yours open as he explores the sweetness of your taste. It’s intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the moment, your worries and doubts melting away.

In the midst of the kiss, he breaks away for just a moment, breathless and looking down at you with those soft eyes. “I can still smell the coffee,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You giggle, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the reminder of the earlier incident making you giddy. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for that to happen,” you reply, your voice teasing but breathless.

“Maybe I should get you a proper change of clothes next time,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But then he adds, more seriously, “You should probably take those off; the smell will cling to you.”

His suggestion sends a thrill through you, and you find yourself biting your lip in excitement. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to take them off?” you tease, your heart racing as you lean closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

He chuckles softly, but there’s a glint of something deeper in his eyes. “Okay, maybe it’s a little selfish,” he admits, his breath ghosting over your skin as he moves in even closer.

With a playful grin, you decide to indulge him. “Fine, but only if you do too,” you say, your fingers finding the buttons of his uniform. You start to unbutton it, your hands trembling slightly with anticipation. Each button that comes undone reveals more of his toned physique, and your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him.

As your fingers glide over the fabric, Jungwon watches you, his expression a mixture of desire and admiration. “You know, this might be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he murmurs, his voice low and enticing.

You finally push the uniform off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. In that moment, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intimate. He captures your lips again, and you feel the heat between you both intensify as you pull away the last barriers that had been keeping you apart.

Just when you think it can't get any more intense, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he admits, his breath mingling with yours, creating a palpable tension that thrums in the air.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask, your voice teasing yet filled with warmth.

“You know I can’t let everyone find out I’m dating the hottest doctor in the hospital, or else…” he argues, a playful grin breaking through his earlier seriousness.

“Oh, please,” you bite back with a smirk, playfully nudging him. “Like they wouldn’t notice that the ‘sexiest and charming paramedic’ is completely smitten.”

With a smile that could light up the room, you lean in for another kiss, feeling the world around you fade away once again as you get lost in him.

masterlist.

[asxgard]

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

[vinnyvamppp]

Pretty When You Cry

Did I leave for two hours and come back with this?! Yes, I did! Mainly, my idea for writing this is because he cries often in the show when upset or overwhelmed, so why not let that apply to sex too?

Synopsis: He's having relationship issues with Amber, but you're willing to be his distraction... right?

Warnings: Dacryphillia, Sub!Mark (canonically loves his women in charge), Soft Dom!Reader, Position changes, implied struggles with romance, no contraception (pull out game 💀), porn w a plot, fem presenting reader, friends to lovers?

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,542

He was such a pretty crier. A man in tears was a man you could love for years. It was a sight you never grew tired of. While it would be shameful to admit, you partially listened to him spill his troubles to see those glistening pearls bubble down his waterline. As you stared at him admiringly—perched against his rooftop—you listened as he poured his heart out, a feeling of pity settling in your gaze.

Little did you know, his emotions were stirring more than usual and creating an unfamiliar sense of lust towards you.

This was wrong—utterly and irrevocably wrong.

Mark gazed idly at your dimly lit features as you looked up at the stars from the roof, he had decided to invite you over to his place after a fight with his girlfriend; he didn't want to go home, and he definitely didn't want to be alone. The fight with Amber still lingered—a bitter taste in his mouth—but it was nothing compared to the turmoil brewing in his chest.

He wanted a break—you were just that. One of his childhood friends and confidants. He was certain he and Amber were over; it was a situation where he didn’t realize they were broken up until it was too late. So why the hell—in the midst of everything—was he thinking about kissing you? He HAD a girlfriend a few hours ago, one who loved him with every fiber of her being.

Yet, you were always so pretty to him. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t had a crush on you in the past—or even fucked his fist at the thought of you until his dick was raw and coated in lotion. It was pathetic, he knew it, but more than ever now he felt enticed by your very presence. The way your lips would speak such comforting words, and you would stare at him as if only he existed. Sure, the relationship between him and Amber didn’t work out because he’s Invincible and she’s a regular human, but he could be selfish just this once… right?

For the thousandth time, you reassured him Amber would return to him with a new resolve. It was almost like you were trying to convince the two of you. It was nonexistent now. So what else could he do besides cast aside his doubt and stare at those puffy lips?

“You okay?” you asked, curious about his staring. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay,” he muttered like a dejected puppy, tugging at your heartstrings. “Right, so instead of moping… you need a stress reliever. For your sake. Dragging yourself around all day won’t help.” You sighed quietly, your fingers gently resting against the thin cloth of his back reassuringly.

“Right,” he replied. “What’s your idea of a stress reliever—and don’t say exercise; I already do that constantly.” His fingers gestured in your direction, some of his playfulness returning. “Get this,” you started, as if to say something revolutionary. “Exercise.”

His eyes rolled as he mumbled under his breath, his head turning to face you with a raised brow. “You’re such a comedian,” he quipped. “Come on, an actual one that won’t have me sweating and panting like a dog, okay? Please?” His voice struck a chord within you; it was the perfect rasp and whine.

Not to mention his words causing your thoughts to travel a million miles past sexual. “I wouldn’t mind the sight,” you said casually. “Besides—the lotion and tissue in your room suggests you ‘exercise’ more than enough.”

It was a harmless joke—enough to bring him pause as you two quietly chuckled. It was embarrassing, but nothing he couldn’t deny.

“Uh. Yeah,” he muttered. As you leaned over slightly, his staring persisted. Your shoulder rested against his as you stared into his eyes. His gaze avoided you momentarily before locking within your reflection. “Mark, what’s going on?” you asked, head tilting slightly. “I know I’m not going crazy—you’ve been staring at me since you invited me over. You didn’t call me over just to stare.” The last sentence was sarcastic. “I did,” he rasped—it was hushed and nearly caused your hearts to flutter in tandem.

“They are different." He started, "Very different. But I… didn’tknowhowtotellyoubecauseitfeelsdesperatetosaythisnowthatamberandibrokeupbutivelikeyouforalongtimeandimeansincewewerekidsandireallywanttokissyourightnowandineedtobeinsideyou.”

It poured out like an unexpected dam breaking.

As you stared at him in silence—your looks of bewilderment matched one another’s. To escape his embarrassment, he briskly stood up, opened his bedroom window, and climbed in. As he turned away, you crawled in behind him—his gaze slowly meeting yours as you gave a “Fuck it” sort of nod.

The actions were fast—rushed even. He needed a distraction to quiet his never-ending mind—and like always—you were the solution. His fingers draped over your waist as he pulled you in, your lips meeting his in feverish delight.

His temperature as a Viltrumite ran hot—your bodies already producing a light sheen of sweat. The quiet sounds of moans mingled between hot breaths. Tilting his head further—his lips parted as his tongue jutted out in search of yours. It was a gentle yet mutually needy kiss; your bodies were pressed so firmly together you could feel the tent forming against his slacks.

He was an excited one—but gentle. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you tugged the strands to earn a strangled groan. His lips latched onto yours like a suction cup; only when he was satisfied with your moans did his puffy lips shift down your neck. His tongue tickled the skin—not leaving marks as to get caught, but covering you in his taste. Your fingers delved under the fabric of his shirt as you relished the attention.

The indentation of his abs was the sweetest treat—your fingers shifted upwards—exposing his abdomen to the night's chill as you both groaned. His feet shuffled forward clumsily as you two fell against his bed.

Sitting you up, his fingers nimbly worked you out of your shirt and pants. Your hands fumbled to get his pants down, but eventually, they pooled around his ankles. Just as he assisted you in removing his shirt, you took in his appearance with such admiration and lust while he stared at you reverently.

You two—while being incredibly impatient—nearly skipped foreplay entirely. His fingers unclasped your bra and removed the matching colored panties down the flesh of your thighs. The wet patch forming in his boxers was becoming evident—his arousal at an all-time high, and his stamina was mounting for the night ahead.

Pressing you back against the bed, your bodies pressed together—his heart pounding—you devoured each other's mouths. His tongue was like a tender caress that made your stomach tie in knots; the anticipation was killing you. “Ha… I needed this,” his words muffled between kisses as you hummed in agreement.

He pulled away—his thumb dragging down the corner of his boxer as his cock slowly sprung from beneath the fabric. In all its glory, it stood with neatly trimmed pubes and visibly throbbed with restraint. Once his last article of clothing hit the ground, he took a moment to nervously chuckle as he admired you, splayed beneath him. His expression was giddy as it traced down the supple curves of your figure, the fat of your breasts and the arousal coating the outside of your folds—catching his attention more than anything. You looked gorgeous.

Time was up. You had enough and needed a little more. Reaching up to give him a gentle peck, you flipped him onto his back as you straddled him. He looked surprised but welcomed the authority as he melted beneath you. His lips sought yours, and your fingers began to caress your clit as you continued.

The quiet sound of your arousal pooled into his ears, his eyes fluttering open as he stared at you with your eyes screwed shut in bliss. He could feel himself nearly cum from the sight alone. His dick was beginning to hurt—and to soothe the ache—his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumped in tandem with your fingers.

Slightly annoyed—your fingers swatted his away and brought it to your clenching hole—ready to milk him dry. As his first digit entered your warmth, he shivered. He could feel every ridge and contraction as your abs squeezed from the pleasure. His fingers formed a V, and once spread enough, you took your seat with pleasure. It would normally hurt, but thanks to your sadistic mind imagining his crying for the last few hours, you’d been leaking like a faucet.

The stretch was delicious, but nothing was better than his blissed expression and immediate groan. Deep. Long. Exhilarating strokes. He was reactive—the perfect man for your little kink. Never mind not having a condom; he was never the most responsible in that manner.

The slow, deliberate movement of your hips was like a tantalizing dance—teasing him with every rotation. His fingers dug into your thighs, urging you on as you began riding him with an unhurried intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut in pleasure as he fought the urge to slam you down against him. While he would love to, he felt helpless and abandoned to your will, a willing captive, lost in the maelstrom of desire.

His chest rose and fell as quiet whines slowly filled his throat—the sight of his eyes rolling back before fluttering finally broke the final restraints of your self-perseverance. Digging your fingernails into his chest—your hips rose slowly before suddenly dropping with a renewed conviction. “Oh… F-Fuck… yes,” he sighed, like this was the medicine he’d been craving.

As much of a gentleman as he was for his girlfriends, he was lascivious when he intended.

Shifting his fingers to your ass, he assisted in the fluidity of your movements—his strength allowing you to glide along his cock with ease. Moans began to filter from your lips. “That’s… perfect, don’t you stop,” you demanded it with every bit of grit you could muster.

Your fingers clasped around the width of his chin so he could focus on you—his body bouncing against the mattress as the air was knocked from him. He wasn’t the most talkative, but he was vocal. “I’m not… I’m not going to stop. Feels so perfect in here, I can’t—I,” he stammered wearily as his body moved on autopilot.

You watched as he practically fucked himself dumb, the sound of skin colliding filling your ears as your teeth gnawed at your lip. One particularly deep thrust seemed to have sent him into overdrive—his tip could feel your insides contracting as if to suck him in more.

He wanted to be buried in you—he could imagine you two fucking like rabbits. He smiled weakly at the thought.

His toes curled into the mattress as your back arched, and harsh gasps erupted from his throat as his body trembled. A groan—a measly groan of his resilience, echoed in the room. Lost in your own sounds of pleasure, you had yet to notice the man nearly convulsing beneath you.

His hand left your hips and rose to the fingers that gripped his chin. Suddenly, your impending orgasm was ruined.

“Sorry, I’m s—sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbled before pressing a firm hand against your stomach and resting your back against the bed.

Before you could react, he sheathed himself within your pussy once more and fucked you with vigor to make up for lost time.

He attempted to speak—only his jaw clenched in response. Your head fell back against the edge of the bed—the legs of the bed frame wobbled as it rocked sideways; the thumps against the wall filled the room. Pleasured grunts and profanities fell from your pouted lips as you ground back against him. A high-pitched whine fell from him as his head fell.

“Oh—Jesus, what—what the fuck? You feel so, so, so, so,” he slurred slightly—you chuckled in response.

“Fuck… mm, seems like you’ve wanted this for a while?” you questioned through moans—your fingers cupping your bouncing breasts from his gaze as he grew distracted.

“You… have noooo idea,” he admitted—too in bliss to care much about embarrassment.

Your core slowly began to tighten and so did your chest as his body pressed forward with nearly all his weight. His fingers curled into the blankets as his tongue ran dry with ruined sobs. His pelvis rubbing deliciously against your clit made your legs stiffen behind him. He moved to pull away—but before you could—one of your legs hooked around the width of his neck.

The position elevated your hips slightly—his dick punctuating with each thrust unintentionally.

He was losing his mind. Such raw and unfiltered love swelled his chest. Your fingers wrapped around the width of his lower back to spur him on—your orgasm quickly doubling back. “P-Please, can’t cum inside… fuck,” he muttered wearily as tears began to fall.

His body trembling with pleasure, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The sensation was too much, the pressure building in his chest like a dam about to burst. He tried to hold it back—to grit his teeth and bear it, but it was no use. The pleasure mounting had his body wracking in ways he had yet to feel so intensely.

With a satisfied grin, you watched his pretty lashes become coated with warm tears. The salty taste stained your lips as he moaned in delight. Your sounds mingled with one another until they became indistinguishable. His fingers found the fat of your ass and he bullied himself into you, the strength behind it made you dizzy.

Wiping his tears away, you peppered gentle kisses against his face. “I've always loved you,” he muttered suddenly—you brightened in response. “Love you too,” you replied gingerly before a high-pitched whine ripped from your throat. The tip of his tongue pawed at your nipple desperately—the bud hardening beneath his cold saliva.

Your orgasm hit you like a train as your back arched, your fingers clasped at him—legs trembling. Harsh gasps left you in your failed attempt to remain silent. Hedonistic praises left you, but Mark could barely respond. The throbbing sensation of your pussy was practically trying to suck the cum from his cock. “Please, oh fuck, please, baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy shit,” his words were hurried as he let out a chuckle of disbelief.

At his words, your leg freed him—as he pulled out just last minute, his sperm barely making it to your abdomen. His body hunched over as he gasped—his jaw slacking as his muscles visibly strained. Slow whines spilled from his lips as he came down from his high.

His recovery time was fast, though his body still trembled with an aftershock. With bated breaths, you both stared at one another, his eyes barely focused as he sat in awe.

You both chuckled at one another before his rasped voice called out to you. “You think we should date?” he asked before correcting himself. “I mean, do you want to date me? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I would like—"

A pillow slammed into his face as you rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mark. I’d love to go out with you.”

Had to be dramatic like the show lmfao.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[reilemon]

Powdered Gold

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When you invited Caleb to stay at your place in hopes of rekindling your friendship, you didn’t realize you’d be inviting the feelings you shunned years ago. You both changed, but what you feel for each other hasn’t—and maybe, this time, you’ll be brave enough to reach for it.

♡︎ pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, angst, smut, Caleb calls you pipsqueak (and always will in my fics), Caleb is a virgin, but reader isn't, oral (both of them giving and receiving), creampie as always

♡︎ word count: 10.3k

♡︎ a/n: this is my first time writing Caleb, so pls be nice to me ok??

♡︎ this is not beta read but i'm still giving a shout-out to my bestie ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @/anitalenia

Caleb’s voice echoes from the bathroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. “How many body lotions does one person need?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond immediately. Instead, you smooth the fabric of his shirt between your fingers before placing it on a hanger in your closet. Then you go to the bathroom.

You lean on the doorway, crossing your arms, “You’re not being a very pleasant house guest with comments like that.”

He’s standing in the shower, placing his travel size toiletries in one corner, his back turned to you. “And you’re not bein’ a very nice host for making your guest sleep on the sofa.”

You roll your eyes again.

This was your idea. That’s what you remind yourself as you watch Caleb settle into your space like he’s always belonged there. You were the one who matched your vacation days with his, and invited him to stay here instead of a hotel.

It made sense. You hadn’t seen much of each other since he came back, just a few meetups here and there, a handful of nights at his place. But now, for the first time in what felt like years, neither of you had somewhere else to be.

The sight of him here, snooping around your bathroom after setting down the toiletries you know he’ll use up in a day before inevitably stealing half of yours, warms your heart. When you’re like this - so close to him, grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the bathroom because ‘why are you inspecting every corner, you’re so weird!’  - and when he lets out that impish chuckle as he says ‘but I need to get acquainted with my vacation place.’ - it feels like nothing has changed.

Like there are no threats in the shadows. Like both of you haven’t lost a little light in your eyes.

But you have.   

And now, watching him here, so effortlessly at home in your space, you’re not sure if it’s comforting or bittersweet.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Time quickly passed while helping him unpack and putting away his stuff, and now it’s already dinnertime and you’ve worked up an appetite. You glance, from where you’re sitting on the sofa, at Caleb who’s rolling up his sleeves before opening your fridge. Before he can ask you anything, you stand up and start walking towards the coat rack.

“Since I am such a gracious host,” you begin, earning Caleb’s attention and he turns to you, “I’ve decided to spare you of your cooking duties on your first day – “

“It’s dinnertime.” Caleb intercepts, with a mock offence in his voice.

You ignore him. “We’re going to one of my favorite places to eat.”

He closes the fridge and turns to you, crossing his arms. “That is too vague. Do I need to change and wear something fancy? Is it your treat?”

“Do you want to come or not?”

“Sure!”

You toss him his jacket and when you reach for your purse you remember something. “Oh, wait – I got you something.”

You dig into your purse and pull out a brand-new lip balm, holding it up with a triumphant look. Caleb eyes it, then sighs.

“You’re so thoughtful. Thanks.” His flat tone as he accepts it makes you grin.

“It’s extra moisturizing so I don’t have to keep looking at your dry lips.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Why do you want to keep staring at my lips?”

Heat spreads across your face instantly. You immediately look away, mumbling, “I’m not staring.”

He hums, unscrewing the cap as he tilts his head. “What was that, pipsqueak?”

You exhale sharply, ignoring him. But the moment he swipes the balm across his lips, with orange glow of sunset spilling over his face, you can’t help but steal a glance. And you just know he catches it. But, for once, he doesn’t tease. He just smirks knowingly.

You grab your jacket a little too quickly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t say anything, just follows, still smirking as he tucks the lip balm into his pocket.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

By the time the two of you return to your apartment, you feel sleep already overtaking you. The dinner turned into wandering around some shops, then you had smoothies, then Caleb insisted walking around more to burn off calories. Usually, an evening like that wouldn’t be so tiring if you didn’t spend the whole day cleaning and tidying up, and then picking him up at the train station. And there were these waves of butterflies in your stomach, that would appear whenever you thought of him. It was draining, and frustrating.

But not confusing.

You thought those feelings had disappeared. You really did. But as the years passed and you started a new life here—new city, new people, new experiences—you told yourself you’d moved on. You had to.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you fluff up his pillow after slipping it inside a fresh and clean pillowcase. You already took a shower, stole one of his baggy shirts and paired them with pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. While he’s in the bathroom, you decided to set up the bedding on the sofa, since you’re sure he must be tired as well, even if he’s not showing it. As always.

Though your body feels like velvet, heavy with exhaustion, you still accept Caleb’s suggestion to watch a movie before bed.

"We don’t have to watch it tonight." Caleb lingers in the doorway, eyes flicking over your sleep-heavy expression.

"I’m fine!" You try to sound convincing, but you’re already tugging the duvet over yourself. "I just need to lie down."

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watches you nestle deeper into the cushions, head resting on the pillow meant for him.

"It’s so nice and cozy in here," you murmur, voice already thick with drowsiness. The crisp, freshly washed bedding cocoons you, pulling you under.

He chuckles, stepping closer and tapping your legs, silently telling you to move. "You’re just trying to convince me that this is comfortable for me."

Before you can protest, he takes your legs and settles them over his lap.

Your body stiffens at the contact. This is normal. It should be normal. It’s not the first time he’s had your legs in his lap. You inhale deeply, telling yourself to relax, to stop overthinking. You’re just getting used to his presence again.

Though, suddenly, you don’t feel so sleepy anymore.

The movie plays on the TV, filling the space with voices and background noise. Comfortable silence settles between you both, broken only by occasional remarks—mostly Caleb critiquing the acting. Of course he can’t keep quiet even during a movie. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but the annoyance fades the moment his hands slide under the covers, grazing over your shins.

He glances at you, voice low. "You seem a little tense. Was the walk too exhausting?"

Your breath catches for a second before you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. His fingers press against the tight muscles in your calves, kneading gently.

"Maybe a little." you murmur, your voice softer than intended.

He murmurs a small apology, letting his hands make it up to you. He presses and kneads with just the right amount of pressure, his thumbs digging into spots that unravel you far too easily.

Heat blooms deep inside you, catching you off guard.

He works his way down, his palms smoothing over your ankles, rolling slow circles there before moving to your feet. The added texture of your socks only makes it worse—the friction, the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the way his thumbs press into the soles of your feet, it makes it so much harder to focus on the movie.

You bite your lip, pulse thrumming. A small sound threatens to escape your throat, and you swallow it back before lifting your legs off his lap. You murmur a small “thank you” and curl up on your side, your gaze now glued to the screen.

Caleb teases you, saying you look like you’re about to pass out. And even though you mumble a half-hearted protest, swearing you’re still awake, your eyes flutter closed before the movie is over.

His presence might be the source of your simmering frustration, of all the feelings you’re trying to ignore—but it’s also the most comforting one you’ve ever known.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes open, it’s already morning. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your room. You’re warm, nestled beneath the comforter, a plushie tucked securely in your arms. A sleepy smile tugs at your lips as you nuzzle against it. You don’t remember how you got to bed, but you don’t need to think too hard about it. Caleb must have carried you here last night, just like he always used to, slipping back into old habits as if no time had passed at all.

The scent of something familiar drifts in from the kitchen, rich and savory. He’s up, moving around the kitchen, already making breakfast.

You stretch lazily before dragging yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine. After freshening up and changing into more presentable loungewear, you step into the living room.

"Look who’s awake!" Caleb’s voice greets you the moment you enter. His back is turned as he works at the counter, only glancing over his shoulder briefly before returning to whatever he’s preparing.

You groan, voice still laced with sleep. “I don’t want to hear the usual ‘by the time you got up I already jogged’ and blah blah blah!” Caleb laughs at your mocking tone, shaking his head as he grabs a pair of plates from the cabinet. He starts setting the table, saying something in response, but his words blur in the background when your eyes catch on something unexpected.

A pillowcase. His pillowcase.

It’s hanging on the drying rack by the window, the fabric swaying slightly from the morning breeze. Your brows knit together.

"When did—why did you wash this?" You gesture toward it, confusion clear in your voice. "It was completely clean."

Caleb barely falters. "It was, but I drooled on it last night," he says easily, still arranging the table. "Didn’t want to make too much noise, so I hand-washed it."

You huff a small laugh, tempted to tease him for drooling, but for some reason, you don’t. Maybe he was exhausted. Or maybe your scent bothered him. Your stomach tugs uncomfortably at the thought, but you brush it off before it can settle. Don’t be ridiculous.

Instead, you take a seat across from him, scanning the breakfast spread. He made everything you like in the morning—even bought coffee from one of your favorite coffee shops. The warmth in your chest is immediate, dangerously soft, dangerously familiar.

“You should quit the colonel position,” you look up from the bowls and plates, meeting his gaze properly since you walked in – he’s already watching you, a hint of amusement in his eyes, “A – and be my personal chef.”

Damn it.

Heat creeps up your neck at the stumble in your voice.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle, setting a glass of water in front of you. "I wouldn’t mind that."

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The room is bathed in the dim, flickering light of the television, casting soft shadows across the coffee table cluttered with half-eaten snacks. The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air, warm and familiar, mixing with the faint traces of Caleb’s cologne. He sits comfortably beside you, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his posture relaxed, his focus on the screen in front of him.

You should be watching too. After all, you’re the one who recommended it, but Caleb wanted to wait, saying he’d rather watch it for the first time with you instead of on his own.  And now, here you are, barely paying attention at all.

Your eyes are glued to the phone screen, and every so often, a quiet giggle escapes you, fingers tapping swiftly against the glass as you reply to messages. You don’t notice the way Caleb’s gaze flickers to you from the corner of his eye. You don’t register the barely-there tightening of his jaw as you keep getting distracted, your smile aimed at a screen instead of him.

At first, he says nothing. He lets the minutes pass, lets you have your moment, but with every small laugh, every glance downward, his patience begins to fray at the edges.

Who the hell is so funny?

He shifts beside you, stretching slightly, making himself known, a silent reminder that he’s still here. But you don’t even glance up.

Fine.

The movement is swift—before you can react, Caleb reaches over and snatches your phone out of your hands.

“Caleb!” You protest in disbelief.

He leans back against the sofa, holding your phone just out of reach, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I thought we were watchin’ this together?"

You blink at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity, before a scoff escapes you. "Did you seriously just take my phone?"

He shrugs, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it, like he has every right to.

Your eyes narrow. "That is a violation of privacy."

His smirk widens slightly, thumb hovering just over the screen. "So what were you laughin’ at?"

You sigh in defeat. Time to change the tactic.

You lunge for your phone without hesitation, but he’s faster—his arm lifts easily, keeping it just out of reach, and he leans away, making you chase after it.

"Caleb—!"

The next few seconds is a blur of limbs, the glowing screen of your phone, and breathless laughter.

You scramble onto your knees, grappling at his wrist, stretching upward, trying to reach the device, but he moves effortlessly, dodging you like this is nothing. You nearly lose your balance in the process, your hands bracing against his chest—

Fuck, those muscles are strong.

Caleb chuckles at your failed attempt, his grip on your phone still firm, completely unbothered by your struggling.

You’re not giving up that easily.

With renewed determination, you grab at his wrist again, pushing against him with your full weight, throwing him slightly off balance. Your bodies end up in a tangled mess of limbs as both of you topple on your side onto the cushions. His body is so close, his warmth suddenly everywhere. Your breath catches, but you don’t have time to dwell on it, because you notice a slight flinch when your fingers brush against his ribs.

You blink up at him as realization dawns, slow and sweet and far too tempting.

Caleb’s expression shifts instantly. "Don’t."

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across your lips.

You dig your fingers into his side, and he twists in protest, his muscles flexing as he tries to escape you. His laugher is light and carefree - and it is the most unfairly attractive sound you’ve always loved.

You falter for a second too long.

Caleb doesn’t waste the opportunity. Before you can react, he grips your wrist, and with ridiculous ease, he flips you onto your back. By the time you catch your breath, he’s already caging you in, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

Everything stills for a moment. His breathing is heavier now. Yours is too. The TV hums softly in the background, but neither of you are listening. Your phone has slipped onto the carpet, forgotten. His grip isn’t tight, isn’t restricting, but it keeps you in place. Caleb’s gaze lingers on you, no trace of teasing left in his expression. And something about that - the way he’s looking at you, about the weight of his body pressing against yours, how his chest rises and falls above you—sends a slow, unbearable warmth curling through you.

But then, just as easily as he pinned you down, he lets go. You sit up quickly, forcing a small laugh, brushing off the moment like it was nothing. Caleb leans back against the sofa, running a hand through his hair before reaching down and lazily tossing your phone back to you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop stealin’ your stuff. For now.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the screen, but you hesitate for a second before speaking. “I know it was rude to text during the movie,” you admit, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I was just talking to my friends about tomorrow.”

Caleb doesn’t react at first. He’s stretching out his legs, seemingly unfazed, “Yeah?” his voice is too neutral. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I already made plans to go out with them.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something quickly buried, masked with indifference. He exhales through his nose, nodding, like he’s completely unbothered.

“Cool.”

"I won’t be out late," you say quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “Just a couple of drinks, maybe some dancing. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, eyes flicking back to the screen, but his jaw is tighter now.

You hesitate, studying him for a moment, before offering a small smile. "If it makes you feel better, you can come pick me up.”

That makes him glance at you, his eyes softer now. “Yeah. Alright.” Then he takes the TV remote to pause the movie, and now his full focus is on you. “So, what are you gonna to wear?”

The question makes you flustered, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I don’t know.” You admit quietly. It is the truth, which is why you’ve been texting your friends during the movie. But he hasn’t seen you in anything revealing before—not really. Not outside of tiny glimpses in summers past, when you’d lounge around in shorts and tank tops, never once thinking about how his eyes followed you.

And it shouldn’t be a big deal. It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so unbearably attracted to him.

You spent too much time getting ready this morning. From the cozy loungewear you’d picked out before breakfast, to the outfit you chose for your day out with him, to the subtle refresh of your makeup before settling down for the movie—it had all been intentional. Every choice, every small detail, designed to make you look effortlessly good.

“Why don’t you show me the outfits you had in mind?” He asks, leaning back against the sofa, “Maybe I can help you.”

You force yourself to exhale, keep your tone light. "Fine. But don’t be annoying about it."

Caleb smirks, tilting his head slightly. “No promises.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You disappear into your room, trying to shake off the ridiculous way your body reacted to that simple suggestion. You shouldn’t care. It’s Caleb. He’s seen you barefaced and half-asleep, wrapped in blankets, wearing mismatched pajamas. He’s been around you long enough to know every version of you.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, sleek and form-fitting, hugging the shape of you in a way that suddenly feels too revealing. You refuse to dwell on it.

You smooth your hands over the fabric before stepping out, ignoring the way your pulse picks up the moment you re-enter the living room.

And the moment you do, Caleb stills.

He doesn’t shift, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t offer some offhanded remark the way you expect him to. He just watches, his gaze moving over you. Then, his brows pull together slightly, his head tilting as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

"Hm. I don’t know."

You gasp, almost appalled at the comment. “What do you mean you don’t know?” You’re trying your best to sound normal, and not like your cheeks are burning under his gaze. He looks effortlessly handsome, sprawled across the sofa with his arms draped over the backrest, legs spread in a way that makes him seem both completely at ease and utterly in control of the space around him.

His eyes lift to yours. "Turn around for me."

The request is effortless, spoken with the same ease as everything else he says. But something about it—the quiet authority in his voice, the way his gaze stays locked onto yours, unblinking—makes your skin prickle.

You try to shake off the thought, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Turn around? What, am I on a runway?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Exactly. Indulge me.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You try on another dress, stepping out with a little more confidence this time, expecting at least some approval. But Caleb only exhales, tilting his head slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"Not my favorite."

You huff, retreating into your room once again, determined to find something he can’t find an issue with. But it becomes a pattern. No matter what you put on, Caleb always has something to say.

"That one’s not very practical."

"You’ll be freezing in that."

"It’s fine, I guess."

But you’re not stupid. The pattern is glaringly obvious—the more revealing the dress, the less he seems to like it.

After one final unimpressed hum from him, you let out an exasperated breath. There’s a pile of clothes on your bed and your muscles are aching from the endless zip-twirl-sigh routine. “Okay,” you snap, sharper than intended, “you’re officially no help.”

Caleb smirks, stretching his arms overhead until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. “Just bein’ honest.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your phone on the coffee table. "Whatever. I’ll just ask my friends."

You barely hear whatever excuse he’s offering now, his voice a low murmur in the background as you tap out a message. Then, an idea pops up in your head. You glance up from your screen, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You should go out as well.”

Caleb stops, his gaze flicking to yours, just for a second. Then, he shakes his head, exhaling lightly. “Clubs aren’t really my scene.”

You nod, finishing your message and sending it off before locking your phone. You lean your shoulder against the wall, the cool surface pressing against your heated skin.

"Well, who knows—" your tone is casual, "you might meet a cute girl."

His laugh is hollow. “Doubt that’s happening.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. “You have someone back home?”

The room stills.

You notice Caleb’s jaw shifting just slightly before his frown deepens. It’s not irritation—not exactly.

"I don’t." His voice is steady. Then, his gaze sharpens, latching onto yours, his expression more serious than before. "I would’ve told you, like I promised."

A breath catches in your throat.

"Like we promised."

Caleb’s words linger. I would’ve told you. Like we promised. You stare at him, throat tightening as his gaze sharpens—he’s studying you, dissecting the guilt spreading across your face.

“You never told me,” he says, voice deceptively casual, “if you ever liked someone.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand, but you barely register it. You don’t want to answer this question. You swallow, but your throat feels dry. "We weren’t talking as much." The words come out quieter than you intend, "It didn’t seem relevant."

“Relevant.” He repeats.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as something in your chest tightens. "You can’t deny we grew apart, Caleb." The words claw their way up, bitter and ugly, “And you're the one to talk - as someone who decided to go no-contact for months.” and the second they leave your mouth, you regret them.

You watch his face shift from stunned to something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Before he can speak, you sink onto the sofa beside him, your scarred knee bumping his. “I’m sorry.” you curl your fingers into the fabric of your dress to keep from reaching for him. “I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes soften and a sigh leaves his lips. Then, the faint pressure of his palm settles on your head, the familiar gesture offering comfort. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, voice low.

You lean into his touch, eyes burning. “But I am sorry.”

“I know.” His hand stills, heavy and warm. “So am I.”

The admission is so quiet you almost miss it. You glance up, but he’s already looking away, jaw clenched against whatever else wants to spill out. So am I for leaving. So am I for coming back broken. So am I for loving you like a man who was never meant to fly—reaching for the only light that ever felt like home, even knowing that if I get too close, you’ll be the one who burns.

You don’t press. Instead, you let your shoulder bump his. He exhales, tension seeping out of him as his hand slips down to cradle the nape of your neck. "Come on, pips." His voice is quieter now, lighter. "We should get some sleep."

The argument dissolves, but the ache remains—a bruise you’ll both keep pressing, to remind yourselves it’s real.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Even though it was late, you had insisted on finishing the rest of the movie, clinging to the familiar comfort. You slipped back into the playful banter – you had whined about the pile of clothes still sitting on your bed, blaming him for it. Caleb, ever unbothered, had only smirked and offered to neatly put them away tomorrow.

While he was in the shower, you took the time to make up the sofa, tucking the sheets with more care than necessary. When he stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, skin warm from the heat of the water, you didn’t comment on the familiar citrus scent clinging to him—the scent of your body lotion.

You’d exchanged a quiet goodnight before retreating to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Grabbing the pile of discarded clothes, you stacked them onto the armchair in the corner, ignoring the mess for now. You had planned on wearing your usual pajama tank top, but Caleb had insisted you wear one of his shirts again, claiming it was more comfortable.

You’re here now - lying beneath the comforter, pajama shorts brushing against soft sheets, the soft fabric of his shirt enveloping you, and yet still— you’re completely awake. Your eyes remain wide open, staring into the darkness, as if sleep might find you if you just keep pretending you’re not thinking about him.

You shift beneath the comforter, rolling onto your side, then onto your back, only to flip your pillow to the cooler side and press your cheek against it. The softness offers no relief.

A deep sigh slips past your lips, but the weight in your chest remains.

I should have told him.

You should’ve told him about the men you’ve dated. You should’ve kept your promise. That’s what he did. But you tell yourself, keep comforting yourself, that at some point your lives drifted apart. When time and distance made him feel more like a memory, you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

Except it did. It mattered to Caleb.

He’d said it plainly —I would’ve told you—as if keeping that promise was as simple as breathing. No loopholes. No expiration dates.

Your breath hitches slightly, something twisting in your chest. You roll onto your side again, eyes drifting toward the empty space beside you.

The dull ache in your lower back pulls at your attention, a stiffness lingering in your shoulder. You shift slightly, frowning at the discomfort— a souvenir from last night when you’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He had carried you to bed, made sure you were comfortable. And now, he’s the one out there, sleeping on the same sofa, crammed into a space too small for him.

The guilt creeps back in.

Finally, with a sigh of surrender, you throw off the covers and rise from your bed. You move carefully through the dark, the wooden floor cool beneath your bare feet as you make your way toward the living room.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The apartment is silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and as you reach the doorway, you pause, peering inside. Your eyes take a moment to adjust, but you can already make out the shape of him—Caleb, stretched out on the sofa, one arm draped over his stomach, his breathing steady. For a second, you think he’s asleep -

"Can’t sleep?" His voice is quiet, but in the stillness of the apartment, it still makes you flinch.

You step closer, your gaze meeting his, even in the dark. “You should sleep in my bed tonight.”

There’s silence for a moment. You can’t make out his expression, but you can feel the hesitation in the way he exhales slowly.

Then you hear a soft chuckle. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation mixing with your exhaustion. Of course, he’s being stubborn. Any other night, you might have tried to coax him with teasing, maybe thrown in a snarky remark or the fact that he’d be doing the same thing for you if the roles were reversed.

But it’s late, and you don’t have the patience for an argument you know you’re going to win anyway.

So instead, you move without warning.

With one swift motion, you snatch the duvet right off his body, yanking the pillow from beneath his head before he can even react. A startled breath escapes him, but you don’t wait for a protest.

You’re already retreating toward your bedroom, grumbling under your breath, "I’m trying to be nice here."

Behind you, Caleb exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He doesn’t argue this time, just watches for a moment before finally pushing himself up from the sofa and following.

By the time he steps inside, you’re already back beneath your comforter, curled on your side. The mattress shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, his presence familiar yet suddenly overwhelming.

“Goodnight,” you say, too stiffly.

“Night.” His reply is softer.

You close your eyes, and the fact that he is sleeping in a comfortable bed eases your mind long enough to let you drift off to sleep.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes blink open, the darkness feels denser, heavier. The digital glow of your nightstand clock blinks 3:07 AM. You're not sure if you ever truly slept or if your mind simply hovered somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

The room is silent, save for the distant murmur of the city and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s breathing behind you—deep, even, grounding. You listen for a moment, letting the sound soothe you, lulling your nerves the same way it always used to. From the sound of it, he managed to fall asleep.

Slowly, carefully, you shift onto your other side, moving as if the smallest rustle might wake him. Your body rolls toward him, your eyes adjusting to the dark until his silhouette takes shape in front of you. He’s asleep, facing you. The moonlight spills in through the slit in the curtains, illuminating his face with delicate silver light. His brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, and one cheek is gently squished against the pillow.

Seeing him like this makes you smile, faint and bitter-sweet. He looks like a memory. Like all those nights you used to crawl into his bed after a nightmare, when he’d shift just enough to let you under the covers, barely awake but always aware of you, always there.

But the warmth of that memory fades almost as quickly as it came. Guilt rises like bile, acrid and insistent.

I don’t blame you.

You should have said that. You wish you had. When you apologized earlier, when you sat beside him trying to make up for your comment, you should’ve said that too. Because it’s true. You don’t.

You understand why he disappeared. You understand why he didn’t call, why he let you think he was gone—you know that he did it to protect you.

But the girl who slept with his necklace clutched in her fist for months, who scrubbed explosion residue from her hair until her scalp bled—she blames him. A splinter of her still does, lodged too deep to dig out.

Your eyes sting, but you blink quickly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You focus on the rhythm of his breathing, his lashes that cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the slight sheen on his lips. He is right here.

So close you could reach out and touch him. So close you can feel the warmth coming off his body.

And yet, so impossibly far.

But wasn’t he always?

Hadn’t he always felt just beyond reach, even when you shared the same space, the same roof, the same memories?

You had spent so many years convincing yourself he didn’t see you that way—that his devotion was born out of duty, not desire. That he was bound to you by shared history, not longing. You told yourself that he saw you as something fragile, something to protect—not something to love.

But there were glances. Touches that lingered longer than they should have. But he never crossed the line. Never let himself want aloud.

So you told yourself he didn’t want to. That he couldn’t. That you weren’t something he was allowed to reach for.

And that’s why you found distractions. That’s why you chased comfort in other people. Because if you couldn’t have him, you had to have something.

But now, lying here beside him, in the quiet of your own bed, there are no distractions. No excuses. No distance left to hide behind. And suddenly, you wonder—

What if he wanted more?

What if he was always waiting for me?

You could wake him now. Could trace your fingertips over his eyelids, could say the words that have lived in the marrow of your bones since before you knew their name. I loved you then. I love you now.

But your lips won’t move. Your hand won’t reach out. Instead, all that comes is the memory of the aching regret that followed you around when you grieved him, whispering your sins in the dark - You should have told him. You should have been brave.

But now—he’s alive. He’s here. He’s right beside you.

But nothing is the same.

And even if you let yourself reach for him, even if you handed over every buried feeling and begged him to take it—the world around you hasn’t changed.

The people who tried to destroy you once are still out there, still watching, still hunting. There are still shadows at your back, and Caleb has always been the one who walks toward them first.

And if you lost him again—really lost him—

You don’t know if you’d survive it.

Because if regret was unbearable before, the devastation of another goodbye—this time after knowing what it’s like to have him— would split you open, would leave you hollow as the day you buried an empty casket.

You don’t realize the tears have started to fall until your vision blurs, until a soft sniffle betrays you. Caleb stirs - he takes a slow inhale, then a deeper one. You still, but it’s too late. His eyes open—drowsy with sleep—but the moment they land on you, on the shimmer on your lashes, they sharpen with clarity.

"What’s wrong?" He whispers softly, concern clear in his voice.

You swipe hastily at your cheeks, the salt sting lingering on your skin. “Nothing,” you lie, offering a trembling smile. “Just a nightmare.”

He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t search your face for more or press for the truth he knows you’re not giving. He just reaches out. His hand finds yours first, then the warmth of his palm presses against your side, gentle as it invites you closer.

You hesitate, just for a moment. But then your body moves on instinct, pulled to him like it always is, like it always has been. He shifts onto his back, making room for you, letting you tuck yourself against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

You let yourself melt into him. Let yourself take comfort in the solid warmth of his body, in the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your cheek. Your tears dry slowly, absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers trace the chain around his neck, finding the pendants, the metal warm from his skin.

And you listen to the heartbeat beneath your ear.

Strong. Steady. Real.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s yours, if you want him.

The fear is still there. The shadows haven’t disappeared. The world is still dangerous, still cruel, still capable of breaking him again.

But here, in the cradle of his arms, with his heartbeat syncing to yours, you finally understand: bravery isn’t the absence of fear.

So, maybe…

If that’s what sits at the end of this—if tears and heartache is what awaits you—then let it be. Let the hurt come. Let it hollow you. At least the emptiness will echo how fiercely you loved him.

You lift your head from the steady rhythm of his chest, propping yourself on your elbow, your face hovering just above his. Your eyes find his in the moonlight—half-lidded, warm, still laced with sleep, but softened by the sight of you. A small, barely-there smile touches his lips, a quiet relief. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, calloused and warm, and you lean into his touch, your lashes fluttering shut. Then you feel the press of his lips against your forehead, featherlight and lingering.

When your eyes open again, he’s still watching you. Your faces are close now, close enough that your breaths mingle, close enough that the brush of your nose against his sends a soft shiver down your spine. You glance down at his lips, drawn to the place you’ve denied yourself for too long.

His fingers still on your cheek.

And when your gaze returns to his, you see it - the look you’ve spent years misreading. The one you chalked up to pity or duty, something you��ve caught glimpses of over the years and turned away from. Something you didn’t recognize at first. Then later, refused to acknowledge out of fear.

But now, there’s no more running.

You shift closer slowly, cautiously, as if giving him time to stop you if this isn’t what he wants. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes dart to your lips, just once, but it’s enough.

In that stillness, you close the distance.

The kiss is soft. His lips are warmer than you imagined, but still a little chapped. He goes utterly still, as if fearing the slightest movement might dissolve this moment. But when you press closer, his hand slides to the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

And when you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” he murmurs.

You smile softly, and press a delicate kiss to his eyelid.

“You’re not dreaming, Caleb.” you whisper.

His lashes flutter open. His gaze searches your face like he’s still trying to understand how this happened. His hand rises to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with aching gentleness. And then he moves. This time, he closes the distance. His mouth moves over yours, his breaths shaky against your skin. There’s no practiced skill, no calculated seduction—just raw, aching want, tempered by the fear of wanting too much.

Your hands slide from his chest to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into the silken, messy hair. He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as his tongue brushes hesitantly against yours. It’s clumsy, earnest, his nose bumping yours, his teeth catching your lip by accident.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but you laugh—a soft, breathless sound—and pull him closer.

“Don’t be.”

You lean into it, guiding him with soft sighs and quiet hums.

His hands hold you tighter now—one on your back, the other slipping down, splayed at your waist like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you now that he’s started.

And when your lips break apart for breath, you don’t pull away. You rest your forehead against his, and you whisper, barely audible, "I don’t want to stop."

He exhales, "Me neither."

Your fingers tremble slightly as they wander from his hair, along the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth before trailing lower. Over the column of his throat, skimming the pulse beneath his skin, before drifting lower—over the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen. You feel the way he shivers beneath your hand, how his muscles tense slightly.

His breath hitches when you tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling there, his gaze locking onto yours.

He doesn’t need you to say it.

Without a word, he sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist as he yanks the shirt over his head. The fabric falls to the floor, and for a moment, you just stare—you’ve seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never yours.

You gently press against his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down, and he does so, collapsing against the pillows. You swing one leg over, your thighs bracketing his hips, but you hover just above him—close enough to feel his heat, yet far enough to let him breathe. You lean down to reclaim his mouth, your hands framing his face. The kiss deepens, and you tilt your head to better taste him, to feel more of him. He gasps into your mouth, one hand slipping to your lower back, the other lowering—slow, unsure—to brush against your bare thigh, the contact making you shiver.

And still, his hand doesn’t wander, doesn’t explore. It lingers like he’s afraid of being told to stop.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your breaths mingling between kisses. Your hand covers his where it rests against your leg, and you guide it higher, to your hip, where your skin is warmer.

You hold his gaze.  “You can touch me, Caleb.” Your voice is soft, “Wherever you want.”

His eyes widen slightly, color blooming high on his cheeks. His fingers flex against your skin, then he speaks, “I don’t… I’ve never—” He swallows hard, and you see the flicker of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at himself, at his own nerves.

“I know,” you whisper, your hand slipping up to cradle his jaw, your lips brushing just beneath his ear. “It’s okay.”

Then, slowly, you lower yourself until your hips meet his, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against you. His head falls back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Heat blooms through your belly at the contact, and your hips rock forward just enough to make him shudder.

His hands clamp down on your hips, holding you still. “Wait—wait.”

You freeze, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he says, eyes snapping open. “Just… let me—” He swallows, his voice dropping to a plea. “Let me do this right.”

You smile, and brush his hair away from his eyes. “There’s no right, Caleb. Just us.”

He exhales, nodding, and then his hips roll upward tentatively, the friction drawing a gasp from both of you. His thumbs press into the soft curve of your hips as they continue to move against him in a slow, rolling rhythm. The thin barrier of fabric between you—his sweatpants, your pajama shorts—only amplifies the heat, the friction of every roll of your hips against his. His breath hitches, his eyes fluttering closed, as you grind down again, your own shorts riding up, the seam catching just right. He curses under his breath, hips jerking up to meet yours, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs.

You want to feel all of him, nothing between. And the way his hands start to roam, still cautious, still learning, tells you he’s thinking the same thing.

You shift slowly, rising from his lap with a final roll of your hips that leaves him gasping, lips parted, brows knit. His hands fall away reluctantly, his eyes flickering with confusion and curiosity. Your hands trail down his chest, over the taut planes of his stomach. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your fingers graze the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Wait.” His hand covers yours, trembling. “You don’t have to—”

You lift his palm to your lips, “I want to.” Your gaze holds his. “Let me show you how much.”

He swallows hard, but nods.

You hook your fingers into the fabric, tugging gently. He lifts his hips, letting you peel the layers away, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally see him, all of him – hard, heavy, straining for you, you feel a fresh heat rise in your chest, in your belly, deeper.

When your eyes meet his again, you find him watching you just as intently—like he’s searching your face for any flicker of doubt. But there’s none. At first, his body tenses—thighs taut beneath your touch, hands clenching the sheets under him. He tries to hold still, tries to be polite, tries to hide the way his hips twitch when your lips press to the sensitive skin just below his navel.

“Breathe.” you whisper against his skin, and you feel it when he does - shoulders softening, jaw loosening, a low groan slipping past his lips as you finally take him into your mouth. You take your time, learning what makes his body melt under your touch. You relish the way his hips stutter when you swirl your tongue, the broken whimper he tries to smother with his fist, the devotion in his voice when he rasps your name.

Gradually, his iron grip on the sheets loosens, one hand resting on the back of your head, and his hips finally start to move to the rhythm you set.

His breath starts to come faster. You feel the change in his body—the way his thighs tense, how his fingers flex and twist in the sheets. “Wait—” His voice is rough. “If you keep going, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You slow, just for a moment, lifting your eyes to his flushed face. You reach for him, one hand sliding up his stomach, calming. “It’s okay,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the sharp cut of his hipbone. “Let me take care of you.”

He groans at that, head turning into the pillow. He doesn’t speak again, but his muscles start to twitch, his legs falling wider, hips stuttering as your mouth picks up the pace. His moans become deeper, more raw, and then your name spills from his lips again.

“I’m—fuck—I’m close—”

You hum in acknowledgment, not letting up, your hands gripping his hips as he shudders beneath you, and then—he falls apart. You taste him on your tongue, feel every desperate pulse of release as his thighs tremble beneath your hands, coming undone in your mouth—helpless and wholly yours.

You don’t pull away. You stay with him through it, coaxing him through the final tremors. You only ease off when he makes the faintest sound of overstimulation, brushing your lips one last time to the hollow of his hip before sitting up.

Caleb is panting, eyes closed, arm thrown over his face.

But when you crawl back up his body, he opens his arms instinctively, pulling you into his chest, where you hear his heart is thundering under your ear. And after a long pause, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you softly, tasting himself on your lips.

His breath is still uneven, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. But he sits up, and for a second his eyes search yours again—asking permission without words. You nod once, and his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt you’re wearing.

He pulls it up slowly, his eyes tracking the reveal of your stomach, the curve of your breast, watching the way your chest rises and falls a little faster under his gaze. His hands tremble, just slightly, and you can see it - that mixture of reverence and disbelief in his eyes. He bends to kiss you again, before his mouth trails down your jaw, your neck, the flutter of your pulse.

He guides you onto your back, and shifts to follow, half-hovering over you. His lips trail kisses along your neck, your breasts. You arch into him, a gasp escaping as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and he hums in response, the vibration rippling through you.

His hands move lower, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajama shorts. He pauses, “Is this okay?”

You nod, your voice failing you, and lift your hips. He slides the shorts down, his knuckles grazing your thighs, his breath hitching when you’re finally bare. For a moment, he just stares. Fading moonlight spills across your body, catching the sheen of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale escapes him as he drags a single finger across the wetness, his touch featherlight.

But before he goes further, before his mouth finds its way to where you’re already pulsing for him, something else catches his eye. The faint scar across your knee. Fading now, but still there. His thumb brushes gently along the uneven line, before he leans forward and presses a kiss to it, the silent apology making your heart flutter.

Then his mouth drifts lower, lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. The first flick of his tongue on your folds is so startlingly gentle you flinch. A soft laugh escapes you, breathless and giddy, goosebumps blooming on your skin.

Caleb stills, lifting his head, brows creased in confusion.

“You’re tickling me,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair in reassurance.

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “Got it,” he murmurs. His mouth presses more firmly, his hands holding your hips as his tongue parts your folds and he groans at the first taste. Your back arches off the bed, a moan slipping out, and it spurs him on. One hand stays braced on your thigh, the other moves to gently trace one fingertip around your entrance, testing. You whisper yes, please, and that’s all it takes. He sinks a finger in, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your face shifts—lips parted, brows gently pulled, the rise and fall of your chest now uneven.

His mouth finds your clit, more confident now. The heat of his tongue, the wet pressure of his lips - it’s clumsy but it’s honest, driven by need and the desire to learn what makes you tremble. Then his finger finds that spot inside you, the one that makes you fist your hand in his hair, the one that makes your toes curl. You whisper yes, yes, yes, and you swear you feel him smile.

His free hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers against your belly.

“Look at me,” he rasps, and you force your eyes open, “Want to see you.”

Your body is starting to unravel beneath him, soft moans spilling from your lips, your thighs trembling.

“Another,” you pant, and he obeys instantly, adding a second finger. His rhythm stutters at first, but you guide him with whispered pleas, your hips rolling against his hand. His tongue flicks faster, his fingers pumping in a deep, steady curl, and you’re suddenly so close to the edge. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, and he growls against you, as if your climax is his own.

And when you fall apart with his name on your lips and your hands tangled with his, Caleb doesn’t stop. He holds you through it, lets you ride it out, his fingers easing only when your thighs start to shake, when your hips twitch with overstimulation. He pulls back, resting his forehead against your inner thigh, his breaths ragged. His erection strains against the sheets, but his focus still on you, always on you, even as his hand trembles where it grips yours.

You pull him up, his body collapsing over yours, and kiss him slow and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips grind reflexively against your thigh, a broken noise escaping him, but he doesn’t push. Just holds you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, your hands cradling his damp hair.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Just breath and skin and the quietness of the morning twilight.

His fingertips trace along the curve of your side, not teasing, just feeling. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

Then he murmurs—soft, regretful, honest:

“I should’ve been your first.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. Still, the way he says it isn’t bitter. There’s no accusation in his voice. Only ache.

You draw back just enough to meet his eyes, your palm resting flat on his chest, right over his heartbeat. “Then be my last.” You whisper.

His breath hitches, eyes widening for a split second. He presses a kiss to your temple, before he meets your eyes again.

“Do you… have anything?” A pause, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Protection?”

You pause for a moment. Then you nod, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

“Left drawer,” you whisper.

He hesitates, his thumb circling your hipbone. “We don’t have to—”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his furrowed brow. “But I want this.”

He shifts to reach for it, but you catch his wrist. “Wait.”

His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowed.

You trace the skin with your thumb, suddenly too sheepish to meet his gaze. “We don’t need it.”

He stills at your tone. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You finally meet his gaze, “If it’s you… I don’t want anything between us.”

He exhales, shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening as his arms wrap around you again.

When your legs shift, parting around his hips, you feel the hard length of him press against your entrance, and it pulls a soft gasp from you both.

Caleb stills. One hand rests by your head, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking softly across your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, threading your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

He exhales slowly, trembling slightly as he reaches between you, lining himself up. The head of him nudges your entrance, already wet and aching for him. You feel the pressure first, a stretch that makes your breath catch. He sinks in just a little—then stops immediately when you tense.

“Too much?” he breathes.

You shake your head, running a hand down his back. “No… keep going.”

Inch by inch, his body presses into yours, your warmth pulling him in, taking him deeper. His jaw clenches, a guttural sound caught in his throat as your walls flutter around him, as your hand curls over his bicep for something. His restraint is palpable, sweat beading at his temples as he presses deeper, his hips rolling in shallow strokes until he’s sheathed fully inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His necklace rests warm against your collarbone, the metal shifting slightly as his chest heaves above yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I will.”

His thrusts start slow, each one sinking deeper than the last, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for permission with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck,” he grits out suddenly, halting his movements with a trembling inhale. His entire body shudders as he lowers his forehead to your shoulder, nose brushing your throat, lips finding your pulse.

“I need a second…” His voice is breathless. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

You cradle his jaw, lifting his face up so you can look at him. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whisper, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Just be here. With me.”

His gaze falters, then finds yours again. He draws back just enough to move again, slow at first, like he’s trying to find a rhythm that won’t break him.

One of his hands tangles with yours, fingers lacing tightly together as he presses it into the pillow above your head. The other slips between your bodies until his thumb finds you, pressing a gentle, slow circle over your clit—and it draws a gasp from you, your thighs tensing around his hips.

“Like that?” His voice is hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathe, hips chasing the movement of his hand. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he leans in to kiss you again—messy now, all teeth and parted mouths. He keeps moving inside you, each thrust dragging along your sweet spots, and the rhythm of his thumb against your clit grows more confident, bolder with every breathless moan you give him. He watches you with blown pupils, flicking between your face and the place where your bodies meet, as if committing every detail of your pleasure to memory.

His forehead drops to yours, the weight of his body pressing deliciously down as his thumb circles faster, more intently, chasing the way your thighs begin to tremble, the way your grip on his hand tightens.

Then his hips shift—just a little, but enough for a sharp discomfort to shoot through you. You suck in a breath through your teeth, a soft, involuntary “ah—” escaping your throat.

He stops immediately. Every muscle in his body locks, his expression flashing from concentration to concern in an instant. “Shit—did I hurt you?” he asks, breath still ragged.

You shake your head quickly, already reaching for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “No, no,” you whisper. “Just... not like that.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heels pressing against the small of his back, gently urging him into a better angle. “Here,” you guide, your voice low and coaxing. “A little lower. Like that.”

He swallows hard, still frozen in place, but the panic softens as he watches you, sees that you still want this. He nods, his throat working with the effort to calm himself.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I promise.”

He exhales on the word promise, and then he moves again. His brows draw together, not in worry now, but in focus, lips brushing your cheek as he resumes the rhythm that had your body unraveling.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he grinds deeper, the angle just there, the friction so exquisite your vision blurs.

“Caleb—” you gasp, voice cracking as the pleasure rises sharp and fast inside you.

“I know, I know.” he rasps. His hips snap harder, deeper, the slap of skin echoing as you spiral closer. “That’s it,” he grits out, his thumb pressing harder. “Let go. Let go for me.”

When your thighs lock around his waist, when your walls clench around him in a sudden, overwhelming spasm, your release rips through you - deep, intense, every nerve alight. Your back arches off the bed, a cry spilling from your lips as you pulse around him, your fingers clawing into the sweat-slick skin of his back.

“Fuck—” His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic. With a shattered groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking as he spills into you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath a ragged pant against your lips.

For a heartbeat, you’re both still, just a tangle of sweat and shared breath, his necklace resting between your breasts, now warm from the heat of your skin. Then he collapses against you, his weight comforting and grounding, his lips brushing your collarbone. His arms curl tightly around you, one hand tracing slow, mindless patterns over your hip, and the other splayed beneath your shoulder. You exhale slowly, your fingers sliding through his damp hair.

You’re not sure how long you lie there like that, tangled and breathless, your hearts gradually slowing from their frantic rhythm. The first sliver of sunlight filters through your curtains, golden and gentle. You tilt your chin to study him, how sunlight looks like powdered gold over his lashes.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, because it’s true, and because you know it’ll fluster him.

His nose scrunches, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” You brush the hair from his temple. “Like a pouty Renaissance angel.”

He only chuckles, burying his face against your chest.

You tilt your head to kiss his temple, your voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Come on. Let’s wash up.”

He groans. “Or we could stay like this forever.”

“You’re sweating all over me.” you protest, already nudging at his side.

He lifts his head just enough to squint at you. “You liked it when I was sweating five minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off with a laugh as you both untangle from the bed. The sheets are a mess, still warm with everything that happened, and your thighs ache, making you bite your lip as you stand. You grab a towel and toss one at him too. He catches it, looking far too smug for someone who was blushing just an hour ago.

As you step under the warm spray, Caleb holding your hand for stability, something crosses your mind.

“Hey… did you really drool on the pillow?”