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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 14: The Aftermath

Summary: Your heat is over, now all that's left to do is heal.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count: 5100 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, fluff, angst, nightmares, PTSD

A/N: Surprise!! Got this one done super early because I kind of just want to move forward with this fic and get to more exciting things so enjoy this bonus chapter. This weekend's update might come a day late, we'll see. Not entirely happy with this one, but it's really just setting up the next part so...yeah. Enjoy!!

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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(Gif found on Google)

A rumbling purr vibrates in your chest. It’s a purr of contentment, of satisfaction. You’re warm, not like you had been nine days ago when your heat started, though. This is a comfortable warmth, a cozy warmth. You’re under blankets in your nest, pressed against a bare chest. You trail your fingers along smooth skin until you hit a familiar scar slicing through the skin, right below his clavicle.

“Got that one outside a bar in Manchester.”

You pause in your movements, tilting your head to look up at John. He’s staring down at you, his own fingers starting to trace a pattern on your back.

“Was years ago. Some bloke was getting rowdy inside. Pulled him out to try and talk him down, and he pulled a knife on me.”

“I can imagine what you did in response.” You murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

John huffs out a laugh. “Left him with a couple missing teeth, and quite the dent in his head.” He smooths a hand over your side. “You feeling alright?”

You hum in response. Your eyes feel dry and puffy from crying, and you’re terribly thirsty. You’re beginning to feel the ache in your body again, the steady pulse of pain between your legs starting up. “Hurting again.” You murmur, smacking your lips. “Kinda feels like I swallowed sand too.”

“Almost time for another muscle relaxer.” He says, glancing at his phone before grabbing an electrolyte bottle from the nightstand.

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking as you go. You let out a quiet whimper at the ache in your body, eyes filling up with tears again.

“Easy.” John tries to soothe you, brushing the hair from your face. “You’re alright.”

“Sorry.” You sniffle, taking the electrolyte bottle. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not. It’s just a natural part of coming down from a heat.” John says as you gulp down the contents of the bottle.

“My mom cried after her heats.” You say, putting the cap back on the electrolyte bottle. “I heard her once, when I was like seven or eight. My dad had picked us up from the care center on base. I wanted to see my mom, but their bedroom door was closed. I could hear her inside, crying alone. My dad scolded me, sent me back down the hall when he saw me. It never felt right to me, that she was in there alone like that, but maybe things are different when you have pups.”

“I don’t think it was right.” John says as you lay back down against his side. He’s tense, limbs stiff even as his arm wraps around your back.

“There were a lot of things my dad did that I questioned.” You say absentmindedly, tracing circles on John’s stomach to try and calm him. “Maybe it was just that inner part of me that knew I’d be an omega that made me notice it more. My brothers never said anything, but then again, they all presented as alphas.” You shift against John’s side, tucking your head so he can’t see your face. “Maybe I was just unlucky.”

He grunts, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You can’t control what nature decides.”

“Can’t control a lot of things.” You say quietly as he tightens his hold around you. “Suppose I am lucky in one regard.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

You shift yourself so you’re facing him, tears sliding down your cheeks again. “You’re a really good alpha.”

He pulls you against his chest again, pressing your face into his neck. “I don’t know if I’d call myself that.” He says, gently stroking your hair. “Just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“You treat me like I’m a human being.” You sniffle, wetting his skin as you cry. “That’s better than I’ve been treated since I presented.”

You don’t see the way his brow furrows, the frown tugging at his lips at your words. You do feel the way he tenses for a moment, arms clenching around you before he relaxes again, a quiet purr rumbling through his chest as he soothes you.

“I haven’t left your side since your heat started.” He says, taking your hand in his.

“Really?” You ask, brows pinching a bit at his confession.

He hums. “Except to use the bathroom.”

“You must be sick of me by now.” You say.

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my sweet little omega. Could never get sick of you.”

You let out a soft purring noise, the sound slipping through your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes widen and you push yourself up out of Price’s neck in surprise. “I’ve never made that noise before.”

Price smiles softly at you, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “Just means you’re happy.”

“Hmm.” You lay yourself back down against his chest, resting your ear over his heart. You suppose you are happy.

Or, at the very least, content.

Standing hurts.

Your legs feel a bit like jelly and your muscles ache deeply. It’s been almost five days since your heat ended, and yet you still feel like you just ran a marathon with no training beforehand. You know part of it is that you’ve been laid up for almost a week, but after that kind of physical exertion, you needed rest. You had only gotten up to stumble to the bathroom a handful of times, leaning heavily on John to avoid straining your muscles anymore than they already were.

You should get up and start moving now, though. It will help with the stiffness, you know, and you should get the blood flowing at least a little.

You’re also starting to go a bit stir crazy cooped up in your room all the time. You can only rearrange your nest so many ways, and you’ve even started to kick John out of the nest, opting to cuddle with your giant bear instead.

You've showered, finally feeling properly clean for the first time in almost two weeks. You dress yourself, opting for the loosest clothes you own, and forgoing underwear. You’re not sure you can handle anything too tight on your skin yet.

“Ready?” John asks, standing near the door.

You nod, putting on your slippers as he opens the door. Arms wrap around you as soon as you step out into the hallway, your feet leaving the floor.

“She lives!” Johnny exclaims, spinning you around.

You grunt at the impact of the excited Scotsman, but wrap your arms around him anyway, taking in his citrusy scent. You have missed him, not realizing how boring life would be without him until now. You’ve even missed Ghost a bit, his looming presence making the world seem a little less big.

“Easy, Johnny.” Ghost scolds the overjoyed beta. “She’s still breakable.”

“Sorry, kitten.” Johnny says, immediately setting you back on your feet and loosening his grip around you. “Missed ye, is all.”

“I missed you too.” You smile up at him.

“Thought ye might never be comin’ out of that room.” He says. “Thought I might have tae go in and save ye.”

You smirk. “You almost had to. Was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in there.”

He grins playfully at you. “Well, yer more than welcome to spend the night elsewhere if yer sick of bein’ cooped up.”

“She's definitely not going to be doing any of that for a while.” John says, stepping up behind you. “R&R is the only thing on her schedule right now.”

Johnny pouts. “But what if I just want tae cuddle?”

“Since when do you ‘just cuddle’?” Ghost asks.

“I can just cuddle.” Johnny pulls you against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I'll do it for our ‘mega. I’ll prove it right now.” Johnny pulls away from you, steering you towards the rec room.

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Ghost says to Price, giving him a look before turning on his heel, following you and Johnny to the rec room.

Johnny flops down on the couch, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You lean against his chest, breathing in his scent again. It’s refreshing, after being stuck in a room with the same scents. You could never grow tired of Price’s scent, but when it’s all you’ve been able to smell for an extended period, you start to get tired of it. You remember nearly tackling Kyle in an attempt to get a whiff of his scent, but the sting of scent blockers had nearly brought you to tears again.

You let out a quiet sound as Johnny tilts his head, letting you breathe in his scent directly from the source. You start to purr quietly, nose pressed against his throat. An answering rumble begins in his own chest, his arms tightening even more around you.

“Smell good.” You murmur, your lips brushing his skin. Goosebumps erupt across his neck, a shudder trailing down his spine.

“Easy, mutt.” Ghost grumbles from the chair beside the couch, his eyes on you and Johnny.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny almost whines, trying to ease you away from his neck. He grips your chin as your head lolls, a drowsy smile forming on your face as you blink up at him. “Christ, yer gettin’ scent drunk.”

“Missed you.” You murmur, your brain quieting to a soft buzz as you lean your head on his shoulder, listening to the quiet rumble in his chest.

“Missed you too.” He says, his hand dropping from your face. His fingers ghost over the mark on your shoulder, making you twitch in his arms. “Cannae believe yer officially part of the pack. Seems like just yesterday ye were arriving, all shy and timid. Now look at ye. Purring away on my lap with Price’s mark on yer shoulder.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, a reminder of just how quickly things have changed. It’s only been almost seven weeks since you arrived in their lives. How quickly things have happened, how quickly things have changed. Though, you suppose things could have happened faster. You’re lucky they gave you so much time to adjust. Many alphas would have started the process as soon as you were in their sights.

They’re not like that, though. They’ve turned your beliefs on their head and changed your perspective entirely. Alphas can be good and caring and don’t just always take what they want.

You sniffle as tears pool in your eyes again, Johnny looking away from the TV to stare at you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding worried.

“Nothing.” You say, pressing your face against his shoulder. “I’m just crying cause I’m happy.”

“I know, this is probably the last thing you want to be doing right now.” Dr. Keller says from the end of the exam table. “But, unfortunately, it is necessary.”

You’re silently glad for the numbing spray, the pressure still enough to make you wince, but you can’t even imagine the kind of pain you’d be in if you weren’t numb. You wonder how many omegas have to go through this without it, how many are subjected to the horror without any sort of pain relief.

“And we’re done.” She says, pulling away. “Everything looks good, no tearing or other injuries.” She pulls her gloves off, John helping you lower your legs from the stirrups. “Though, I’d suggest abstaining from any rigorous physical activity for at least another week.”

Your face warms at the implication of her words. You’re not sure you’d want to anyway, at least not for a while. Aside from the soreness, after six days of near non-stop...activity, you might shrivel up and die if you see a naked man again anytime soon.

“Do you feel up to chatting today, or would you rather go back to bed?” Dr. Keller asks as John helps you sit up. “Won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to.”

You think about it for a moment, chewing on your lip before you answer. “We can talk.”

She nods, smiling. “Aright. Take your time, I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”

She leaves the room, leaving you and John alone. You move slowly as you get dressed, still a bit sore and stiff. John walks you to the door, wrapping his arms around you before you can enter, pulling you against his chest.

“Call me, if you need anything.” He says.

You nod, staring up at him before you lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He purrs quietly when your lips touch his, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back, staring up into his eyes for a moment before you turn away, heading into Dr. Keller’s office.

You take your usual seat, silently grateful for how comfortable the chair is as you sit down. You’ve been avoiding sitting as much as possible, having spent the last few days lounging in bed with John and occasionally Gaz.

“Comfortable?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod. “Yeah. Think this is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “You tell me if you get uncomfortable or if you want to end early, alright?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “So, how are you feeling, aside from the discomfort? Your first heat with your pack, being claimed, that’s a lot all at once.”

“It is a lot.” You acknowledge, picking at your sweatpants. “I’m still...I don’t know, processing it, I guess? It’s...a big step, but it was always going to happen. That’s why I’m here, right? To be their omega, to be part of their pack.”

“That is true.” Dr. Keller agrees. “As much as I could say about it, you are right. This was the end goal of this entire experiment. But, how do you feel about it? Are you relieved that it’s over?”

“Yeah.” You answer. “I’m glad that it’s over, that it’s done with. I...guess I feel lucky too.” You chew on your lip nervously.

“In what way?” Dr. Keller asks.

“John’s a...good alpha. I think I knew that before, but...he took care of me. He didn’t hurt me, he’s never forced me into anything.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They’re all good pack members. Even Ghost.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way. John is a fantastic alpha. He cares a lot about you and your wellbeing.”

“He treats me like I’m more than just my status. I feel like...like I’m a person again. Not just something that can serve others. I used to think that's just what omegas were supposed to do. At the institute, that's what we were taught. How to serve. But, I can see now how we do so much more than that.”

Dr. Keller practically beams at you. “That’s great! That’s so great that you’re beginning to discover your place in their pack. I think it will get easier, now that you’re official.” She nods towards your shoulder where your claiming mark now sits.

You fight the urge to reach up and touch it, curling your fingers around the fabric of your sweatpants instead. It doesn't hurt anymore, other than slight soreness if you lay on that shoulder after a while. The scabs are beginning to come off, revealing the scar that will decorate your skin for the rest of your life, showing proof of your place in Price’s pack as his omega.

“Do you feel different, being a claimed omega now?” Dr. Keller asks.

You do feel different. Not just because you're a claimed omega now. There's something else, a sort of connection now that you've never experienced, even with your family. You don't know how to describe it, except for a slight buzzing in the back of your brain that only seems to quiet when you're near John. You don't really notice it until you think about it, and then you can't get it quiet until you're near John again.

“Yeah.” You finally answer, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in your brain.

“The bond,” Dr. Keller says with a grin. “Hard to describe, so I've heard. I've also heard it lessens in intensity with time. Has anything else changed? Any feelings?”

You shrug. “I guess I feel...better about being here. It’s still not ideal but...I feel happier.”

“Yeah? Good.” Dr. Keller writes something down. “That makes me glad to hear. You’re getting along with everyone?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been getting closer to Kyle and Johnny. I know they’ll want to progress our relationships after I’ve healed a bit.”

“Is that something you want?”

You nod. It is something you want. Kyle has already seen you in your most vulnerable state, and you know Johnny has been anxiously awaiting his time. You’d even consider getting closer to Ghost, though, that would be entirely up to him and what he wants. You know getting closer to Johnny will inevitably force you and Ghost closer, but you won’t push the alpha’s boundaries.

That will only end poorly for everyone.

John is awake instantly as soon as the knock comes at the door. He calls for them to enter, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stares blearily at the computer screen in front of him. Simon’s giant form approaches the desk, sinking into the chair across from him.

“Getting caught up?” Simon asks, looking him over.

John nods. “Slow progress. Hard being out of commission for six days.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much excitement. Laswell called a couple times. Kyle talked to her.”

“That’s what he said.” John leans back in his chair. “Checking up on our girl.”

“Sent over some things that might interest you as well.”

“I see that.” John says, glancing at the email in his inbox. One of several hundred unread emails.

“You look tired.”

“Think I’m getting old, Simon.” John says, running a hand over his face. “I don't remember things being this rough, coming out of it.”

“I’ve heard purebreds are different.”

John gives him a look. “Thank you for holding down the fort.”

Simon shrugs. “Things are going to get difficult now.”

“We have a job to do, above everything else. That was something we knew from the start.” John says.

“Things were different then.” Simon says. “It's going to be a struggle.”

“We knew that too.”

“I'm not talking about the omega.” Simon's voice lowers, taking on the low rumble of Ghost. “I'm talking about you.”

John's back stiffens as he stares at his Lieutenant. “This doesn't change anything.”

“It changes everything.” Simon stands from his seat. “Just how much, we won't know until we're in it.” He turns, making his way towards the door.

“You think you're immune?” John says, making him pause by the door.

“No. But I've been keeping my distance for a reason.” He turns the handle on the door, turning to look back at John. “One of us has to have a clear head.”

John watches as the door closes, something tickling in the back of his mind. He sighs as he sinks back in his seat, eyes moving to the computer screen and his hundreds of unread emails.

He closes the browser, shutting down the computer, staring at the screen until the hum of harddrive quiets. His skin is prickling now, thinking back on Simon's words. Of course things have changed. It would be no different had they added a fifth person to the team. He knows leaving will be hard, but they have a job, a duty to perform. That always comes first above all.

Can he make it come first after this?

He remembers how different things had felt after he claimed Kyle. His decisions became safer, but his actions became riskier to ensure Kyle's safety. It wasn't that he doubted Kyle's abilities. He knows Kyle is more than capable of taking care of himself. That's why he's on the team. It was his instincts needing to protect his pack, to ensure his beta's safety.

What is he going to do now that there's an omega involved?

You won't be going with them, you won't be in the field, but they'll have to leave you behind. It could be weeks before they'd see you again, if they see you again.

The thought has a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

Maybe Simon is right.

Maybe things have changed too much.

John rises from his seat, his joints cracking. He stretches, groaning quietly at the ache still present in his muscles. It's faded for the most part, but he can still feel it if he's immobile for too long. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's hard to think of a time he's felt worse.

Maybe he is getting too old for this.

He pauses outside Kyle's door, staring down at the knob. He feels bad for what Kyle had to go through the last almost two weeks. He knows it's a natural part of pack life, a natural role for betas, but he still feels guilty.

“Everything alright?” Kyle's voice breaks through his thoughts. The door is open now. Kyle standing there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

He hadn't even noticed the door open.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “It's nothing. I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Kyle gives him a worried look. “Just got out of the shower. You can come in, if you want.”

His feet are moving before he even thinks about it, Kyle closing the door behind him. He sinks down into Kyle's desk chair with a heavy sigh.

“What's on your mind?” Kyle asks, grabbing the jar of coconut oil off his dresser.

“Too much.” John answers, looking up at him as he approaches. “Everything's going to change now.”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, setting the jar on his desk before scooping some out. “Things change all the time. We learn and adapt to them. That's what we do.”

John watches him rub the oil on his face and neck, watching the movements of his hands. He's right. Always the voice of reason and logic. They were trained to adapt to anything. It was their job. They had adapted to your presence easily enough, they could adapt to this new development too.

It would take time, but they could do it.

“You're right.” He says, staring at Kyle's glistening skin. He wants to be the one to rub the oil onto his perfect skin, feel the softness of it under his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You've been a great help through this.” He stops Kyle from grabbing more coconut oil, grabbing some himself. “I owe you a lot for neglecting you these last couple weeks.”

“You weren't neglecting me.” Kyle says, giving him a small smile as John starts rubbing the oil over his shoulders. “You were taking care of our omega.”

A satisfied growl rumbles through John’s chest at his choice of words. “Now let me take care of you.”

Kyle’s breath stutters as John moves behind him, rubbing oil onto his back before moving to his chest. His fingers brush over Kyle’s nipples teasingly, pulling a quiet groan from the younger beta’s lips. John leans against his back, slipping his hands down lower, feeling the ridges of his muscles pulled taught from John’s touch. His lips press a soft kiss to the claiming mark on Kyle’s neck, Kyle’s head falling back against John’s shoulder. John growls in approval at the submissive position, his fingers trailing the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants.

John gathers more coconut oil on his hand before he slips them under Kyle’s pants, spreading the soft oil across his skin. He’d chosen to forgo briefs under his sweatpants, Price’s hand brushing against Kyle’s half hard cock.

“Fuck...” Kyle breathes, arching into John’s touch.

“How many times did you jerk off to the sound of us this last week?” John asks, wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock.

“At first I didn’t,” Kyle says, pressing his hips into John’s hand. “Was too focused on making sure nothing went wrong. But then...” He lets out a moan as John begins jerking his cock. “Then I couldn’t take it anymore. The mental image of you two together, the sounds she was making...” Kyle lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as John brushes his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Wanted to be in there with us, huh?” John asks, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants, tugging them down so they drop around his ankles. “Did you imagine yourself right in the middle, taking my cock while she takes yours? Or did you imagine yourself taking my cock while our sweet omega sits on your face?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his arms reaching back to grip John’s hips as his legs shake with pleasure. John continues to stroke his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to Kyle’s shoulder.

“We can make that a reality.” John says, squeezing Kyle’s cock, earning a sweet moan in response. “I’ll show you all the places to touch that get her riled up. I’ll show you just how she likes it, how to get her legs shaking around your head.”

Kyle’s nails bite into his skin, but he doesn’t care as he continues to jerk his cock, getting him closer and closer to the edge. Price drags his thumb over the tip, spreading precum on his skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Price growls in his ear, pumping his cock faster. “Want to know what she feels like wrapped around your cock?” His teeth nip at Kyle’s ear, his beta’s lips parted as he moans loudly. “Want to know what she tastes like?”

“Fuck...yes!” Kyle almost whines, hips jerking as he cums, spurting all over John’s hand. “Yes, yes, yes!”

John works him through his orgasm, continuing to lazily jerk his cock as Kyle twitches in his hold. He presses his nose against Kyle’s throat, inhaling the intoxicating mix of sweat, coconut oil, and his natural briney scent. He presses a soft kiss against his mark, finally stopping his movements to allow Kyle to recover.

“Good boy.” He praises his beta, wrapping an arm around him to help him to his bed.

“You really mean it?” Kyle asks as he drops onto the mattress, catching his breath.

“We’ll have to ask her, of course.” John grabs Kyle’s sweatpants, cleaning off his hand before tossing them in the hamper. He moves back to Kyle’s bed, joining his beta. “But if she’s up for it, then so am I.”

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth.

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you.

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence.

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.”

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it.

“Shut up.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak.

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity.

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door.

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them.

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.”

You blink up at him, the words registering through the haze. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them.

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack.

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever.

You wake falling from bed. You hit the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. You slap your hands over your mouth before the sob can tear from your lips, not wanting to wake the others. You’re shaking, your heart thudding in your chest as tears slip down your cheeks, sliding over your fingers as they squeeze over your mouth, desperately muffling the sound.

You hold your breath, forcing the pain and the panic and the grief back in. You can’t have these memories coming back to the surface, not now. Not when good things are finally starting to happen. Not when you’ve finally started to gain a glimmer of hope that things might turn out alright for you. You can’t ruin things now.

You can’t let them see how broken you really are.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #John mactavish x reader

2K notes · View notes

aeyumicore · 5 days

Text

☾ .⭒˚ exclusive tutorial ♡ zayne x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 7.6k

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, explicit sexual content, pure pure filth, public sex, fingering with gloves, sex on a pool table, unprotected sex, creampie, cervix fucking, cum as lube, choking, rough sex, dom!zayne, kinda power play? not really zayne is just a daddy, teasing with a cue stick idk, lots and lots of dirty talking, just filth idk what else

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommend watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrsqvis0jkqn

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: hiiii guys <3 this is my continuation on the new ‘exclusive’ tutorial memory with my fav zayneeee. i hope you guys enjoy, i miss feeding y’all with delulu thoughts. i wouldn’t say i’m back though, i haven’t wanted to write as of late, it was honestly hard to push myself to finish this one. i feel like because i write in such detail, it starts to feel really repetitive, like i’m just writing the same things from my other fics over and over.

i’ll try to write when i have inspiration! i love u guys pls enjoy <3

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

The sound of billiard balls colliding with one another pierces the brisk air of the empty billiard hall, save for you and the dashing surgeon eyeing you from across the table. You do your best to watch the colored balls scatter, and not the way Zayne's gloved hands grip his cue stick, or how his muscles ripple under the blue tie he wears so devilishly handsomely.

You were a bit tipsy from the small bits of wine you’d drank at his alumni get-together, mostly to take the edge off from being in a room full of surgeons and doctors, all who knew Zayne in some capacity. It wasn’t surprising how well-liked, respected, and admired Zayne was amongst his peers, but it was a bit intimidating. Though Zayne never made you feel like it, sometimes it was hard not to feel small in his presence, and the presence of all his peers.

But he always took it upon himself to make sure you never felt out of place amongst all his med school friends and acquaintances, introducing you to everyone who approached him looking for a morsel of his time.

And there were a lot of people looking to be graced with even a second of Zayne's time.

Even so, Zayne always made you feel like the center of his world. Always side glancing at you with a small, almost imperceptible, quirk to the corner of his lips when he spoke to his colleagues. Or his broad palm, ghosting the small of your lower back as he nodded along to their ramblings of surgeries you couldn’t fathom understanding. Sometimes, even taking it a step further, whispering huskily against your ear amongst the commotion of the reserved club, letting his breath tickle your exposed neck, as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if he’d been purposely teasing you all night. But either way, combined with the wine, you were feeling tipsy, bold, and pent up.

And what better way to relieve that tension than a friendly game of pool?

At his silent observation of you and the scattered balls, you tease, “Did I do something wrong, sir?” You purposely drawl out the last word, knowing how much it affects him when you let him take a position of authority and power over you. It was the perfect opportunity to tease him back, if even just a little.

If Zayne is affected by your words, he doesn’t let it show, much to your dismay. “You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture you’ll see better results.” You almost want to roll your eyes at how professional and proper he’s being, even in the emptiness of the billiards room.

Feeling emboldened at his attempts at stoicness, you only grin at him, “I need you to help me identify my weak spots via "Hands-on” learning, sir.” You giggle as Zayne clears his throat, rubbing the exposed side of his wrist in his billiard gloves.

“We’ll work on your posture, then.” He makes it over to your side, leaning over the edge of the table to show you how it’s done. “Like this. Place your right foot back…” Even in his demonstration, he looks so handsome and graceful in his black suit vest and dark blue tie. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to remind yourself that you’re the one teasing him. Attempting to, anyways.

You shake your head, doing your best to focus on the task at hand. You try to emulate his pose, but even without seeing yourself you can tell it’s not right.

Suddenly, his deep voice is right by your ear, “Relax. You’re too tense.” You force yourself not to yelp as the feel of his warm breath tickles the area under your ear. You don’t turn to face him, but you can tell he’s smirking faintly. You flinch when his fingers tap your lower back twice. Your body responds immediately, your back arching instinctively, almost provocatively.

Zayne's grateful your back is turned to him, because his ears tinge at the sight of you bent over before him, your perfect back arching so sweetly. He holds back a groan at the sight, "Now you’re too relaxed.”

You’re acutely aware of his cool hand still resting on your waist, “...It tickles.” you try to deflect from the irritating way your body responds to even his most gentle and innocent touches.

"Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally,” he uses his knuckle to tap your forearm, "Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.” you follow his instructions, tilting your head to the left to align your posture.

"How is it?”

"It…hurts a little.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, "That means it's correct.”

You turn your head so you can see him, giving him a questioning pout, "You’re so harsh, sir.”

Zayne looks undeniably amused, "Don’t tilt your head, you messed up your posture again.”

You sigh in defeat, "Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

Zayne smiles smugly at you, "Yes. But are you sure you want to do it?” you fight the shiver that threatens to overtake you. You honestly wonder where the professional and stoic Zayne went, as the undertone of his words fills you with an anxious anticipation.

But you steel your voice, hoping you won’t regret your next words, "Bring it on.”

"Don’t move for now,” Zayne's voice is husky as he repositions himself right behind you against the edge of the felt table, his hand coming down to cup yours. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, as he presses his hard chest into your back, skin exposed by the backless dress you wore for the occasion. Your breath hitches as Zayne once again regains the upper hand against your attempts at teasing him.

His breath is on your ear again, "Your rhythm with the cue stick isn’t quite there yet. You need more "Hands-on” training.” this time you actually shiver, as the double meaning of his words dawns on you. His crotch is pressed right up against your rear, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle. You’re sure Zayne is doing this on purpose, as he uses your joined hands to thrust the cue back and forth.

"Move the cue stick three or four times, then stop at the point closest to the ball.” you have a difficult time following his instructions as his gruff voice caresses your ear, his pelvis firm against your rear. Really, you can only concentrate on not folding completely underneath him, otherwise you might notice the hard bulge pressed snugly against you.

His gentle lips ghosting a kiss against the shell of your ear snaps you out of your reverie, "Did you get that, sweetheart?”

“...Yeah,” you whisper underneath him, doing your best to imitate the thrusting motion with your hands. But as Zayne shifts slightly, you finally feel his erection behind you, and your mind goes blank.

"Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?” you can hear the smug amusement in his voice.

"Um, yes…pull back the stick…”

"Very good,” his voice is smooth, almost a purr, above you, "Just like that. Now strike.” your body trembles, basking in his praise, but you pull back your cue stick and let it fly. The clinking of balls colliding sounds as you watch the striped red ball sink into one of the pockets.

"It’s in!” you cheer, forgetting briefly about the compromising position Zayne had put you in as you both straighten up, "Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool.”

“I did. Your pool skills aren’t so much about technique, but rather, passion,” he teases, finding your excitement utterly adorable. He leans against the pool table, turning to face you, "All you need for pool is… a steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.”

His hand reaches for your face, fingers grazing your reddening cheeks as he moves to tuck the hair that had fallen into your face when you were concentrating on the balls, tucking it neatly behind your ear and holding your jaw in his practiced fingers. The material of his gloves is smooth but deliciously rough against your burning skin, "Once you’ve locked onto your target, don’t let go.”

You quiver at his words, and can’t help but wonder if he’s possibly talking about something else. Your gaze wanders south when Zayne briefly glances away, and you eye the bulge that is barely noticeable through the dark fabric of his dress pants. Mischief and lust simultaneously overtake you.

"If a student does a good job, shouldn’t they get a reward?” you purr, gently batting your eyelashes as fiddle with the sleek wood of your cue stick.

You don’t miss the way Zayne's adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, "And what exactly does my student want?”

You grin up at him, gently tapping the tip of your stick against his broad chest, "It might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

Zayne seems almost taken aback, but chuckles as he raises his eyebrows doubtfully at you, "Is that all?”

You take a step closer, only your arms wrapped around your cue stick separating your bodies, "What’s wrong, Dr. Zayne? Are you scared?” you giggle internally watching Zayne scramble to maintain his careful composure.

"Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

You bite back your scoff, wanting to see him lose the slightest grasp on his calculated control. You walk to the other side of the table, where the white cue ball awaits, "Then come here.”

Zayne follows you cautiously, until he stands a foot to your right. You turn to him expectantly, reaching out to brush your fingertips along the exposed skin of his left hand, still clad in his leather billiard gloves, "Closer. Or else I can’t reach it.”

Despite Zayne's sigh, you can see the way his green eyes gleam with amusement as his adoring smile reaches up towards them. He inches closer to you, "What exactly…” you use that moment to gently push Zayne backwards onto the billiards table. He catches himself easily, but allows you to push him backwards, until his back is practically resting on the felt table top. You step forward until you’re resting in between his thighs, standing over his hard body. He sits up, using his elbows to prop himself up against the table.

"Look, the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest,” you giggle, bringing up your cue stick to playfully tap them on either side of his shoulder, making a dramatic show of deciding which of his shoulders to use as a rest.

Zayne's voice is husky as he chuckles, "Using a cue rest would be overkill.” he sits up against your stick to stare at you with hooded eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a faint smirk. You smile innocently back, tracing the stick down to the middle of his chest, hooking it under his blue silk tie and pulling upwards, loosening it.

The man beneath you clears his throat, "And this is inappropriate.” but his words don’t quite match the timbre of his voice, eyes still twinkling with amusement under the dim fluorescent lights of the bar.

"But I think…you’re enjoying it, too,” you murmur softly, leaning forward until your body is flush against his crotch, your heat pressed right against his. You can feel him twitch underneath the restraint of his slacks, which subsequently causes your core to throb with an all-too familiar dampness.

Zayne chuckles, a rich and deep sound that rings in your ears, averting his heated gaze, “I shouldn’t have taught you so much.” you only grin at him, setting down your stick against the table, pressing your hands against his hard abdomen. You can feel his muscles flex under the material of his suit vest as he tries to sit up further. But you only push him down more firmly, with your hand on his naval right above where his erection sat, proud and wanting to be let out.

You glance up to be met with the rare sight of an absolutely flustered and reddened Zayne. His lips are parted, slightly damp as he pants against your touch, a noticeable blush painting his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. His breath is bated, eyes dark and hooded as they track your hands carefully. You reach up to grab his tie, tugging, but not hard enough to undo the soft knot. You use it to pull him towards him, shifting in between his legs and letting your body rub tortuously against his erection.

Zayne looks almost pained as he grunts out, "Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest?” his eyes are locked onto yours, dark, hazy, and demanding.

"Well, this cue rest’s heartbeat is going to affect my accuracy,” you tease matter-of-factly. Zayne arches his eyebrow.

"Is it my heartbeat that’s affecting your accuracy or yours?” you ignore him, slightly embarrassed that he knows your heart is pounding wildly, choosing to inch your hand down further in retaliation. It doesn’t take long for your fingers to reach Zayne's erection, as its length stands incredibly tall against his abs.

Zayne sucks in his breath when your fingers wrap around him through his pants, "If you actually want to learn, I can teach you another way…” he trails off as he leans in closer to you, his breath fanning across your lips. As he closes the distance between your lips, you use your left palm to push him back by his shoulders, using all the willpower you have to deny his kiss.

Grinning cheekily at his dissatisfied grimace, "Sir, this…seems to be lacking ‘professionalism’.”

Zayne chuckles, "This is lacking professionalism?” he shifts, his dick twitching in your hands, as if reminding you who exactly was the unprofessional one between the two of you. It’s then Zayne decides he’s given you enough time to delude yourself into believing you have the upperhand. Before you can even blink, his gloved hand wraps possessively around your waist, pulling you down on top of him. Your feet dangle in the air as he holds you securely against his body. You yelp as your dress rides up and Zayne grips your bare thigh with his forceful fingers.

He chuckles huskily in your ear, your body resting atop his, "It’s a bit too late to back out now.” with that, he deftly flips both of you so that you find your bare back pressed against the soft felt of the billiards table, your knees propped up with Zayne standing smugly between them.

He smirks triumphantly, "Why don’t you let me show you?” he picks up his cue stick that had long been forgotten on the side of the table, expertly twirling it in his fingers so that it grazes your chest as he brings it up to rest against your exposed shoulder. You’re rendered a blushing speechless mess at the sight of him between your legs, towering imposingly above you.

His hand brushes against your bare thigh as he pulls back his hand to steady the end of the stick, "Watch closely. I’m only going to do it once.” you shiver as he bends down, so that your chests press together, his jaw clenched as he trains his eyes on the white cue ball. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch his handsome face concentrate, pull back the stick, and unleash his move.

You crane your neck awkwardly to see that he easily sunk two solid balls, leaving him just the black eight-ball and one other solid left. He smiles smugly at your dumbfounded expression, but remains between your parted thighs.

"No fair,” you whine, "You’re a surgeon so both your hands are sturdier.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement, "Do you really think I need both hands?” something about the way he asks you makes you tremble in anticipation. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before shifting his cue stick, trailing it down your shoulder to your chest, skillfully grazing your nipples that had hardened in all of Zayne's relentless teasing. The stick trails down to the hem of your dress, and then up your bare inner thighs.

You shiver uncontrollably at the foreign stimulation, "Z-Zayne, what are you – we shouldn’t…”

"Hah…all of a sudden you care about what we should and shouldn’t be doing?” he chuckles. "Besides, no one will interrupt us,” he murmurs as he finally ceases stroking your thighs with his cue stick, leaving behind a trail of blue powder residue. But before you can breathe a sigh of relief, his gloved hand snakes under your dress, gripping your thigh with his large outstretched fingers. The leather feels amazing against the sensitive plush of your inner legs, almost making you forget how very in public you were.

"Wh-what do you mean? How do you know?” you whimper almost pathetically as his cold fingers play with the lining of your panties, threatening to slip under and touch you where you want him most. You’re sitting up on your elbows, unable to shake his heated stare as he teases your body painfully slowly.

“I reserved this entire hall, in case you were feeling overwhelmed with meeting all my old classmates and you needed some time alone,” he murmurs, reaching his fingers under the flimsy material of your panties. Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness, always looking out for your well being, even when you yourself don’t think to. You’re snapped out of your adoration for the man before you when his fingers get dangerously closer to the wet mess you’ve been trying to ignore.

"But still, we shouldn’t – not on this table…” but your body betrays your words as you can’t stop from bucking into his fingers when they graze your weeping slit, eager to be filled by him, again and again. He’s careful to only touch you with the fingers not fitted into his gloves — just his thumb, pinky, and ring finger grazing your sensitive region. Even though you want more, Zayne wields his limited digits adeptly, already bringing you pleasure that you couldn’t even fathom. And with just 3 fingers, none of them even inside you.

"Why are you saying one thing, when she–” he dips his lengthy ring finger into your swollen lips, ghosting along your throbbing hole as his thumb presses at your clit. The sound of your arousal squelching against his hand is loud as it cuts through the thick sexual tension in the air. "Clearly wants something else?”

Your moans are unabashed as he expertly toys with you, but never quite entering you. Even so, you can feel Zayne's fingers working magic on your clit, having you seeing stars as he rubs inexplicable shapes around it, thumb lubed from your copious slick. You find yourself desperate to be filled by him, spurred on by the excitement that just down the hall are dozens of people just waiting for your boyfriend’s return.

"Z-Zayne…” you plead, grinding yourself against the length of his finger.

"What is it, my love?” his alluring voice teases as his fingers continue on their tortuous journey, "Do you need something from your teacher?”

"You know what I w-want!” you whine like a brat, trying to angle your pelvis so his finger slips in. He only halts his movements, instead bringing down one of his gloved fingers to squeeze your clit against his thumb. You yelp at the feel of the foreign fabric against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the feeling of it a conflicting mix of pleasure and hypersensitivity, bordering on pain. You could feel yourself quickly becoming addicted to the feel of his gloves against your more sensitive regions.

"A good student should be able to tell her teacher,” he muses, the mischief and arousal evident in his own features. He’s hell bent on focussing his teasing on you, ignoring his thick erection that is still pressed into you, painfully restraining against his slacks and desperate to be inside you. Zayne bends down to ghost a kiss along the shell of your ear, "You’re a good student right baby?”

You shiver at the filthy implications of his words, hooking your arms around his neck as he breathes against your sensitive ear. Doing your best to form coherent thoughts in your brain, you mumble, "Y-yes I’m a g-good student. I’m a good girl.”

Unbeknownst to you, Zayne bites his cheek at your words, his erection twitching eagerly at them. You most certainly were a good girl, his good girl. You knew that fact to be true, he knew it, and his cock definitely knew it.

"Yes, you are,” he affirms huskily into your ear, his warm breath making you shiver, "Let me show you that I only need one hand to get the job done.” the confidence in his voice turns you on unbelievably more as you attempt to piece together the meaning of his words. As he reaches to grab his cue stick again, his bare ring finger simultaneously slips into you, and you realize he was not only referring to the fact that he only needed one hand to play pool, but one hand for you.

You whine out at the welcomed intrusion, bucking against his leather clad hand between your trembling thighs. You fall back gently at the sudden ecstasy, back arching deeply as it rests on the table top with your legs settled against Zayne's body.

He hisses at the feel of your walls sucking his finger in at every pump, in awe of the way your body begs for him, "She’s so eager for me, look at her sucking me in. Does it feel good with just one finger angel?”

The slight condescension in his teasing words only turns you on more, your back arching deeper into his hand, "Zaaayne,” you pant, hands clawing at the felt, "Feels s-so good.” you’re hiccuping between your words, wanting more from him.

As always, Zayne knows your body even better than you do, because he slips his pinky in alongside his ring finger. His eyes never leave yours as he continues to pump himself into you. The stretch makes your eyes roll back, his thumb still pawing at your throbbing clit, threatening to burst from his expert touch. The sounds of his hands thudding against your wet skin cut lewdly into the limited space between you.

Zayne deftly twirls the cue stick in his one hand so that he rests it on your breast, perfectly aimed at the white cue ball. His fingers inside you pumps in and out in perfect rhythm, the length of them able to stroke your spongy g-spot at every thrust. Your eyes are screwed shut, your body trying to accommodate the pleasure, arousal spurred on from the risk of anyone bursting through the billiard hall doors.

You feel the tip of the stick tapping against your nipples, erect against the rough fabric of your cocktail dress. Your eyes fly open to find Zayne smirking down expectantly at you, his voice a deep seductive huff, "You need to keep your eyes on your teacher if you want to learn anything, Y/N.”

You force your eyes to stay and focus on his, though you can feel your eyelids droop as your brain fights to focus on anything other than the ecstasy Zayne is imposing on your trembling body.

"That’s it, my love,” he coos at you, speeding up his fingers in the process. Your head falls back as you moan shamelessly, feeling your gut tighten in response to his movements. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, and you silently pray that it doesn’t drip onto the pool table.

Suddenly, Zayne's thumb presses harshly onto your clit. Your squeal filling the air as you sit up sharply, the sensitive ache bleeding into the immeasurable pleasure, only serving to intensify it further.

"What did I say?” he growls, "Eyes on me.” you nod obediently, desperate to please him. But you’re unsure if you’ll even be physically capable of following his demands. You watch the sharp jawed surgeon hovering over you, as he continues his assault on your core.

He positions his cue stick over your shoulder again, his thrusts increasing in intensity as he concentrates on the balls behind you. The sight of him, so precise in the way he pleasures you without a single care to whose prying eyes could possibly see, while simultaneously so handsome in the way he handles his cue stick makes the coil in your gut tighten quicker than normal.

"M-more, please,” you beg, feeling your release approaching and needing him to thrust you over the edge.

“I can feel you tightening, love. Are you close already?” Zayne murmurs, still lining up his stick meticulously. You’re careful to keep your eyes on him as you nod fervently.

Zayne smirks, "So quick, huh baby?” you ignore his teasing, grinding into his hand, desperate to release. He only chuckles in response, but curls his fingers inside you as he relentlessly strokes your clit. You can vaguely see him aiming his stick at the white cue ball, somewhere on the table by your head.

"Z-Zayne, m’so close,” you warn him, the friction between his hand and your core far too much for you to hold out any longer, "Gonna cum, gonna cummmm.” your fingernails dig into his covered biceps as you grip his arms, aching to feel his skin under yours.

"Yeah?” he briefly glances at you, shifting his gaze from the billiard balls, his pace on your cunt never faltering, "You gonna make a mess for me, all over the table, like a good girl?” without warning, Zayne brings his leather clad index finger down to pinch your clit between it and his thumb. Almost immediately you come undone over his hand, your moans and cries for him filling the billiard hall. You can vaguely hear the sound of pool balls colliding, the satisfying clack briefly entering your ecstasy clouded mind as you gush all over Zayne's gloves.

Zayne talks you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing but not stopping, "That’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, ruining my gloves, huh?” you can only whimper in response, your clit trembling in his careful grasp. "So beautiful on this table for me.”

You’re a wailing mess, tears streaming down your face from the hypersensitivity of your orgasm. Zayne watches your face contort in pleasure, in complete awe of how beautiful and unbelievably sexy you looked beneath him. His cock stirs uncomfortably, almost threatening to burst through the zipper of his pants. You don’t see the way his eyes light up in complete adoration of the woman he loves below him, making a mess all over his fingers, still inside you. He hadn’t planned to take you fully here. But the sight of you underneath him, in all your fucked out glory, slick dripping down your plush thighs, whimpering for him, he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I need to be inside you. You can take me right, my love?”

Before you realize what’s happening, Zayne's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, flipping you effortlessly so that your stomach is pressed into the table, your ass molded perfectly into his crotch, his leaking cock pressed right into you.

"Z-Zayne?” you yelp in surprise, wincing slightly at the way your spend smears against your inner thighs and cunt. When Zayne doesn’t respond, you crane your torso backwards to see him bringing up his gloved hand to his mouth, shiny with your slick presumably coating them. Using his teeth, he brings his middle finger to his teeth and yanks them off his pale and scarred hand. All the while his heated gaze captivates your own, hooded with a need so dangerous your core ignites with excitement. The sight before you makes your knees weak, buckling in anticipation.

The sound of Zayne's zipper being undone snaps you out of your shameless thoughts, and you watch as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out from them. You gulp, licking your lips at the sight of him before you. His veins bulge, almost pulsing with the need to be nestled inside of your cunt, as his swollen angry head leaks copious amounts of clear pre cum, enough that it almost looked like he’d finished inside his slacks when he got you off with his fingers.

Zayne loosens his blue tie, tugging at it until you can see the gentle bobbing of his neck as his hungry eyes drink you in. You squeak when he taps his angry tip against your exposed pussy, smearing his slick against your own, the warm liquid making you shiver as it mixes.

You croak, using your last waning bit of rational thought, "W-what if someone comes looking for you?” you moan deeply when you feel Zayne move your wet panties to the side, exposing your dripping slit to his hungry eyes and the air conditioned draft of the billiard hall.

He presses his bare tip against your soaked lips, and your knees buckle under the sensitivity of your fading orgasm. Luckily Zayne holds you steady, his large hand wrapped securely around your waist as he teases his engorged tip up and down your exposed cunt.

"Well then we’ll just have to be quick, can you do that for me love?” he lines up with your throbbing hole but waits for your consent before digging himself into you. The feel of his burning cock nestled in your core is enough to make you throw all inhibitions out the window, and instead of responding verbally, you grind yourself back onto him, trying to fucking yourself onto him.

You revel in Zayne's deep throaty moan, his voice hoarse with desire, "You drive me absolutely insane Y/N.” and with that, he presses his swollen tip into your waiting cunt. Your eyes screw shut and your fingers grip the wooden edges of the table top as your cunt does its best to accommodate his never ending girth. Your teeth bite down on your lips to try and keep your moans at bay, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

"Good girl,” Zayne grunts out, his large hands massaging your hips soothingly, "Perfect little pussy is sucking me in so well.” you flutter around him excitedly at his praises, to which Zayne hisses, digging his fingers into the fat of your hips.

"Not so tight, please,” he grits, stilling his descent into your warm cunt, "Let me in, my love.” he twitches inside you, wanting nothing more than to be buried to the hilt.

"M’trying,” you pant, looking back to see his cock stuffed halfway inside of you, "M’trying Zayne.” keeping one hand on your hip, grip so deliciously tight there’ll surely be hand shaped bruises the next day, he shifts his other hand to your front. His fingers snake up and under your dress, pushing your panties further to the side to flick against your clit.

You gasp out, the tension in your gut being forced to release. You feel the rest of Zayne's cock sink into you, brushing against your g spot as he gently hits your cervix. The delicious curve of his manhood causes his heavy cockhead to drag against all your sweetest spots as he begins to slowly move in and out of you. Your cervix is no stranger to the feel of his tip brushing right up against it, your body growing to love the feeling of his bruising pace against your deepest parts.

"Gripping me so tight,” he seethes, his hands weaving into your hair and pushing your face into the table, the smooth felt material rubbing against your cheek as he pounded you into the table. "You like it that much? Like the idea of someone walking in and seeing this beautiful little pussy wrapped around my cock?”

Your moans brokenly at his words, his pace intensifying. The threat of being caught coupled with the overwhelming way Zayne absolutely takes your quivering body is almost too much for you, definitely too much for you to form a response to his words. Your pussy can only tremble in response, as if not wanting to let him go each time he pulls out.

Zayne's fingers grip your hair harder, but still gentle enough that it makes your eyes roll back at the addicting sensation, "Tell me baby.” his voice is low and demanding, making you want to please him at all costs.

"Want someone to see you fuckin’ me,” you whine, cheeks heating up in embarrassment, "See that m’all yours.”

Zayne groans at your words, driving himself harder and deeper into your womb, "They’d be disappointed to find out that this pussy already belongs to me, huh?” his fingers at your scalp grip your head as the intensity of his thrusts have your eyes leaking tears of utter fucked out pleasure. "Made only for me.” his words hold such a possessive tone, making your stomach stir with butterflies.

"S-so big Zayne,” you ramble, your voice coming out as a mere whimper.

"Just take it f’me, yeah?” his voice is low, his hand inching down from your scalp to your bare back, pressing your arched spine further into the table. "Feels so fucking good when you wrap around me like this.”

You’re a moaning mess as he drills himself into you relentlessly, held up only by Zayne's firm hand pressed against your clit. Your mind is consumed with only thoughts of him and the ecstasy he rains down upon your body.

Zayne's groans are vaguely audible over the deafening sounds of your ass rippling against his exposed pelvis, "Can never get enough of you, my perfect girl.”

"Should see how well she takes me, love. Sucking me in like she can’t get enough,” he rasps, hand leaving your back to press on your tummy. "Feel me here, princess?”

"Y-yes!” you gasp, "Feel you s’deep, need m-more Zayne.”

Zayne chuckles, his laugh so beautifully rich against the erotic sounds of his skin against yours, "You really think you can handle more, angel?”

“I can! I can!” you chant hazily, wanting nothing more than to please him as he drives into you intensely, his cockhead dragging against your g spot repeatedly. Your eyes have a hard time staying open as Zayne pushes you closer to your second orgasm of the evening.

His vigor increases impossibly, his hand leaving your stomach to gently grasp your neck, pulling you up towards his hard abdomen. You gasp when your arched spine hits his chest, as he effortlessly manhandles you into his body.

"Will never get enough of you. Of this perfect little cunt,” he groans into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. His hand presses down on your throat, holding you securely against him like you might disappear at any moment. The smooth material of his suit vest soothes the singed skin of your back, absolutely zero space between the two of your bodies. Molded perfectly together into one.

"She was made for me, huh? Made for me to stretch every fucking night,” Zayne grunts desperately as he thrusts up into you, your mind going numb from the pleasure of Zayne's massive girth rearranging your guts, leaving you once again unable to form words. His hand against your throat tightens against your neck when you don’t respond, the fingers at your clit squeezing demandingly, "Answer me Y/N.” the leather brushing against your nerves forces your mind to clear.

"Yes!” you gasp out, doing best to see through the fog of intense ecstasy and form coherent words, "M’all yours z-Zayne, p-please don’t stop.”

"Good fucking girl,” Zayne pants, softly digging his teeth into your neck, lips latching on and sucking for dear life. Your broken moans of pleasure fill the room when his teeth sink into your sensitive pulse point, and then his tongue lapping soothingly at the tender skin. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscenely loud and erotic, serving to push you closer to your impending climax.

“I would spend my entire life buried inside you,” Zayne grits against your neck, absolutely drunk off you. "You can handle it right, my love? For me?”

His words drive you closer and closer to your release. His fingers are still wrapped deliciously against your neck, applying just enough pressure that you have to gasp for your breaths, "Y-yes! Yes!”

"Tell me what you want love,” Zayne demands in between sucking at your neck, leaving behind a string of hickeys and saliva. He glances down briefly to see the shiny slick pooling around the base of his length disappearing and reappearing inside your fluttering cunt. The sight of it makes him moan, gasping huskily into your ear. The sound of his desperation makes you clench around him, tip-toeing closer and closer to your release.

"Z-Zaayne,” you drawl, "M’so close. W-want to cum for you. Please let me cum f’you.” Zayne swears under his breath, grip releasing on your neck to hook around your waist. Zayne lifts you off his length and spins you around. You yelp, legs instinctively wrapping around his hard abdomen as he orients you to face him, ass resting on the edge of the pool table. Your elbows straighten behind you as your prop yourself up with your palms flat on the felt top.

"Need to see your beautiful face,” Zayne demands, his fingers reaching up to grip your chin, craning your face to meet his and bringing your lips to his. His lips are delightfully demanding against yours, tongue forcing its way in to claim your entire being.

To your dismay, he rips away, a string of saliva connecting your panting breaths. Zayne's eyes pierce yours intensely, "Tell me how much you want it.” your thighs clutch around him as his hand snakes down where your bodies are joined to rub at your clit again.

"S-sooo much Zayne,” you cry pathetically, tears forming in the corner of your eyes, "Please let me cum for you, m’a good girl, d-deserve to cum.”

Your begging drives him insane, the vigor of his thrusts reaching an all time high. The way Zayne thrusts up into your body makes you drool, feeling like his personal pocket pussy, and you love it. His hot throbbing length reaches all the deepest parts of your cunt, making your eyes roll back, your hands wrapping around his neck as his strong hands hold your thighs up against him, leaving finger shaped bruises. The undoubtedly expensive pool table underneath you shakes under the intensity of Zayne's thrusts, slightly scraping and sliding against the linoleum floor.

"Okay my love, anything for you,” he muses, leaning in to kiss down your collarbone, "Not too loud okay? Can you do that for me?”

You nod fervently, though you’re not sure if you can keep your promise. His lips on your chest definitely make those words seem far fetched.

“I-I have to cum,” you pant, unable to keep your orgasm at bay any longer, "M’cumming Zayne, p-please don’t stop.”

Zayne's lips abandon your neck, using the hand not on your thigh to cup your chin once more.

“I’m not gonna last much longer with you squeezing me like that,” he groans, "You gonna take it baby?” you do your best to nod, but that’s not enough for Zayne.

"Answer me, sweet girl,” he purrs, "Or do I have to teach you another lesson?”

"Y-yes, m’gonna take it all. Please Zayne,” you plead, needing to feel him fill you as you cum for him.

Zayne smirks, so devilishly handsome as beads of sweat form on his temple, "So damn gorgeous when you beg for my cock.” his lips capture yours again, tongue tasting every inch of you. You kiss him back feverishly, wanting to be filled with nothing but him.

He pulls away, instead kissing the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, "Who does this pussy belong to, Y/N?”

"Y-you! Belongs to you Zayne!”

"Good fucking girl. Now cum for me.”

The command in his words sends you toppling into the abyss as you cum all over him. Except this time it’s so much more moist than the orgasm you had when his fingers rearranged your guts. You can vaguely feel the gush of liquid against his expensive slacks as your mind goes blank, only able to accommodate the pleasure and no other senses.

Zayne's eyes trail down to where your bodies connect, watching in awe as you squirt all over him. The feeling of your cunt pulsating so snugly around his length, almost too tight if not for your fluids coating every inch of him, drives him to his own orgasm. His cock trembles violently as he buries himself to the hilt, emptying inside of you, endless streams of cum coating your throbbing walls.

Once the last of his essence has been absolutely drained from him, Zayne languidly thrusts up into you, obsessed with the feeling of your collective spend against his softening erection. You whimper at the feeling, gently tapping against this chest, "N-no more. S’too sensitive.”

Zayne chuckles, slowing in his movements and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, "Sorry love. Just wanted to make sure I got it as deep as possible.”

You sigh contently, tightening your arms across the back of his neck and burying your face into him, inhaling the sweet scent of him. The two of you bask in the moment, with him still nestled inside of you.

"We should head back to everyone else Zayne. They’ll be wondering where you are,” you mumble into his shoulder, fingers stroking his soft raven hair. "There’s always a bright eyed doctor looking for you, wanting to sing your praises,” you tease.

"And yet the only person I want looking for me, is you,” he smiles faintly, rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, his large hands never leaving your body for even a second.

You blush at his words, trying to deflect, "You’re a flatterer.” and yet there is a sincerity behind his words that makes your heart thrum erratically. He only smiles warmly at you, nothing but adoration, happiness, and utter satisfaction clouding his hazel irises.

"For you, I’ll be anything,” and with his glimmering eyes on yours, Zayne carries you off the table, gently setting you back on the floor after making sure you’re able to stand by yourself.

He chuckles as your knees wobble, "Do you need me to carry you for the rest of the night?”

"Now, what would your colleagues think if they saw the esteemed Dr. Zayne carrying his female companion around in such a formal setting?” you tease him, wincing as your panties settles onto your soaked cunt, absolutely dripping and spent.

“I don’t think anyone would question me carrying you, if they saw the state you’re currently in,” he grinned, smoothing some of your undoubtedly disheveled hair behind your ears.

You teasingly smack his shoulder, to which he heartily laughs, holding your waist with his outstretched hands "Is it that bad?” you whisper worriedly, doing your best to smooth out your dress. However, there was nothing you could do about the slick dripping down your thighs until you found a restroom.

"It just means I did my job right,” he smirks at you, eyeing the plethora of hickeys littered against your soft skin. There’s a thoroughly ravished glow about you that he doubted anyone would not be able to notice. Above all, the smell of him and sex is so deeply etched into your scent, there’s absolutely no way people wouldn’t know where you two had disappeared off to. The thought of that fills Zayne with a deep sense of satisfaction and arousal.

You give him an unamused look in response. He chuckles lowly, holding his arm out for you to grab, ever the gentleman. It slightly irks you how annoyingly debonair, dashing, and collected he looks, not a hair out of place, even after your vigorous activities.

"Ready to go?”

You latch onto his outstretched arm, feeling exhausted but unbelievably happy to be here with Zayne. Hand in hand, the two of you head out of the billiard hall you were sure you’d never forget.

"Wait! We have to finish our game!” you exclaim, halting and dragging him back towards your table, where your cue sticks still sat.

Zayne only raises his eyebrow at you, letting himself be dragged along by you, "We already finished. I won.”

"What do you mean–” it’s then you notice all his solid colored balls are gone, along with the black eight ball.

"Wh-when did you do that!? I call foul play!” you whine, “I want a rematch.”

"Though I’d be more than happy to teach you another lesson,” his eyes shine with amusement, clearly referring to something else, "We need to make a reappearence before someone finds us in here. We look quite incriminating in here.”

You pout, knowing he’s right. Despite your best efforts, there’s no doubt you look like you’ve just been dragged through a wind tunnel. But you were so incredibly competitive. And an even sorer loser.

Zayne chuckles at your adorable grimace, your arms crossed over your chest. He gently pries your arms apart and holds your hands in his, “I’d be happy to take you home and give you a rematch of tonight. How does that sound?”

"Fine…” you sigh reluctantly, letting him guide you back to the main hall of the club, "Since when did you have a pool table at home?”

Zayne doesn’t turn to you, but you can see a slight upturn in the corner of his lip, “I don’t.”

tag list: @bitchykittenconnoisseur @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun @achicilove

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

Text

the beginning

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pretty fluffy and cute tho, male masturbation, kinda creeping on reader by masturbating to pics of her?, p in v sex, brief male receiving handjob, unprotected sex, a bunch of different scenes with time gaps this isnt one continuous fic if that makes sense?

“your bikini is so cute.” you tell your friend, looking at your own swimsuit in the mirror.

“i have another one in a different color, you wanna borrow it?” julie offers.

“girl, yes!” you squeal as she digs through her closet before tossing the small material to you. you were invited on rafe camerons boat, and while you chose your best swimsuit, you just moved to the outer banks from new york city and don’t have a ton of options.

you put the swimsuit on before standing next to your friend. “we look good.” you nod.

“damn girl, the boys are gonna be all over you.” “hopefully including rafe.” you say, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. it didn’t take you long to learn that rafe was the it boy of the outer banks, the kook prince, and that all the girls wanted him. you didn’t get the hype until you met him at a party and instantly became attracted.

“there’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep his eye of you.” julie encourages you, before glancing at her phone. “we better get going.”

you nod, looking one last time in the mirror before putting your coverup on and following julie out of her room.

“hey rafe.” you smile at him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder. you’ve been flirting a lot, its how you got invited onto his boat along with a few other friends, but you haven’t progressed past just talking.

“hey.” rafe tugs you into him, making you press against his shirtless torso, in just his swim shorts. “wanna come up and drive with me?”

“yeah.” you nod, briefly looking to julie to make sure she was good, but she's already twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at kelce.

you follow rafe up to the stairs to the second story of the yacht where the captains helm is. you sit next to him on the bench as he steers the boat out of the marina.

“this is a really nice boat.” you comment. “maybe you should give some advice to my parents on what to buy, my dad is looking but has no clue what is good.” you say without thinking, before cringing at your words, worrying rafe might mistake your small talk as wanting him to meet your parents.

“ah yeah, didn’t have much opportunities to own a yacht in new york, huh?” rafes says as his arms move the wheel, making your attention shift to his muscles.

“nope.” you shake your head. “but i’m glad we moved, i love the city but its really nice to be somewhere… calmer.”

“i’m glad you moved too.” rafe says with a smile, making you blush as you nod at him. you manage to make the small talk not overly awkward as he drives the boat out towards the ocean before finding a place to drop anchor and hang out for a bit.

“wanna swim?” rafe asks as you both head down the stairs, rejoining the group.

“yeah.” you nod, pulling your coverup off over your head. you toss it onto a soft before turning to rafe, who is staring down at your body, blatantly checking you out as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

he doesn’t snap out of it until topper claps him on the shoulder. “i got the ladder in for us, man.”

“yeah, yeah thanks.” rafe nods, eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.

“y/n! jump in with me!” julie calls.

“lets go?” you tilt your head, looking to rafe.

“wait before you jump in i want to get a picture of everyone.” rafe shouts out, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to topper. “you'll take it?”

“yeah, sure.” topper says, looking at his friend a little strangely.

you all group together on the front deck, rafe moving so you’re in the center, his arm around your waist as you smile at the camera. you change your pose a couple times as topper continues to snap pictures, including turning towards rafe and placing your hand on his abs, still grinning as you pose.

rafe eyes up topper as he leans and picks you up, topper getting the message to record as you let out a shriek, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulder as he hurdles towards the water before jumping off the back deck, sending a spray of water as you let go of him and swim towards the surface.

you push the hair out of your face before sending a splash in rafes direction, scrunching your brows to show your anger at getting tossed in, but you can’t help the smile that stretches over your cheeks.

rafe gives you a tight hug, not caring that your hair is still wet and smelling of salt water. “i had fun today.”

“i did too.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” rafe questions.

“why, wanna take me on a date?” you ask, biting your lip as your eyes glance between his eyes and his lips.

“and what if i do?” rafe smirks.

“then i’m definitely free.”

“pick you up at 6:30 then.” rafe says, pulling you against him again before letting you go, watching you get into julies car.

“fuck.” rafe groans, hips thrusting forward as he fucks his fist, phone pulled open to the pictures he had topper took. he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, he cropped everyone out but you, in your tiny lilac bikini.

rafe groans, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut as he squeezes the head of his dick, imagining it was you instead, either your mouth on him or you spread out below him, moaning as he fucks into your cunt.

rafe thinks about texting you, about begging you to come over, but he remembers your date tomorrow, knows what is going to happen after if things go well. he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, but you’re too pretty, too enticing as he swipes to the next photo, the photo of you turned to the side, hand on his bare abdomen.

he looks at the curve of your ass, the way the bikini hugs your hips. rafe strokes faster, imagining his hand making impact with your bum, watching the skin ripple.

“y/n.” rafe groans out your name as he cums, releasing over his stomach as he squeezes himself until he’s satisfied, smiling as he swipes again, this time to the video of him picking you up and running into the water.

“this is easily the best first date i’ve ever had.” you say as rafe drives you home. it was surprisingly simple, a picnic on the beach all set up by rafe, and then some live music on the pier.

“mine too.” rafe says, placing a cautious hand on your thigh, relieved when you smile at him.

“you know…” you begin as rafe pulls up to your door. “my parents are back in new york this weekend.”

“really?” rafe hums, bringing the car up the driveway.

“if you’d like to come in for some… tea.”

“tea, sure.” rafe nods, turning his truck off.

you move quickly inside. while you made up the tea excuse to get him in, you both know what the intentions are as rafe presses you against the wall of the entrance as soon as the door swings shut behind you, his lips meeting yours.

“good morning.” you mumble, turning over in rafes arms, both still naked from the night before.

“morning.” rafe says, his voice gruff from just waking. he moves a hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face. “you look beautiful.”

“not too bad yourself.” you smile, pressing your lips against rafes.

the kiss instantly wakes him up as his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he turns so he’s over top of your body, your hair flared out on the pillow.

you smirk into the kiss when you can feel rafe growing against your stomach. you reach down with one hand, grasping his shoulder to keep him close and kissing you with the other while you stroke his cock, getting it to full hardness quickly.

“when are your parents home?” rafe asks suddenly when he pulls away.

“um-” your brain briefly doesn’t work at the randomness of the question. “monday evening.” “i say-” rafe says, reaching down and grasping his cock, pushing your hand out of the way as he rubs the head of his cock through your pussy. “we spent the entire weekend in bed then.”

you gasp as rafe thrusts into you, filling your cunt in one swoop. “sounds good to me.” you say, before pulling him back into a kiss.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary

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halfvalid · 8 months

Text

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #smut #reader insert #x reader #opla #one piece live action #one piece netflix #roronoa zoro smut #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

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simpjaes · 2 months

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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.

You’re going to the booming “after life”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.

God, it’s more beautiful inside.

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.

And suddenly, your body freezes.

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright.

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around.

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.

“So, it’s Friday.”

He bounces on his feet.

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.”

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly.

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him.

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.

“Red death, please. Two of them.”

The man nods with a knowing smile.

“I saw that you came here with someone.”

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.

“Okay, lets get you to-”

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.

And it’s still suffocating in here.

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening.

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.

And, well, you do get home safe.

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame?

Fuck no.

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.

And, well. The night is a blur.

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.

And you search.

And search.

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp.

Or human trafficking.

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.

Still, you nod to the bouncer.

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.

Again.

A third meeting.

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.

Pretending you’re not interested.

Wondering why it is that you are, actually.

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?”

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.

What was his name again?

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.

You should find Jungwon and cling to him.

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.

Blue, red, green–

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit.

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.

Was it not a dream?

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind?

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like this time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.

He’s definitely looking for you.

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.

“Come now, dear.”

Reluctantly, you follow her.

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought you I had you, too.”

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.

Again, red.

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”

Exhale.

“Me.”

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.

Well, goddamn.

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.

God, he’s so charming.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.

“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not.

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.

Month after month after month. For years and years.

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.

You feel comfortable, safe.

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.

“Do you want to go home?”

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”

Oh.

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.

“Now, listen.”

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.

“Do you hear it?”

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you.

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You.

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you.

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.

Needing you to stay alive.

Insane.

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”

Of course you fucking feel it.

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?

God, but it feels so, so fucking good.

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah.

So he is.

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead.

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.

Here it is.

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.

He’s never lied.

You just refused to listen.

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.

But he didn’t.

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

1K notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 month

Text

wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair. You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x hoh!reader #professor!matt murdock #daredevil smut #matthew murdock #smut

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marvelsmylife · 20 days

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“Look at you, my once innocent mate has turned into a filthy whore,” Azriel’s mouth was on of your breasts as you bounced on his cock.

(This is a quote from my upcoming Azriel smut. I decided to combine a lot of requests into this fic. But it centers the reader being Azriel’s mate, being a virgin and losing their virginity to him.)

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel smut

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luciferism · 5 months

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[ "Symphony of Love & Desire" ]

Malleus x GN!Reader

Summary: It was Malleus' birthday and a party was being held at the Diasomnia dormitory. The formalities and main event of the party was done. You, Malleus' classmate and close friend, was pushed by your peers to sing a song requested by the band for further tonight's entertainment. You agreed to sing the song after a brief musing.

Tags: 18+, one shot smut, eventual smut, birthday fic (sort of), lots of kissing because I love it, porn with feelings, power play, dom/sub, slight degradation, hickeys, rough sex, pwp, creampie, multiple orgasm, brief oral sex (receiving)

A/N: I certainly have a type and Malleus is one of the addition. Yes, I'm now diving with my non-existent cock first at the LEGAL twst boys—especially Malleus. Also yes, I'm posting about another character's birthday instead of my side chick: Idia Shroud.

Word Count: 10.3K

[ Masterlist ] | [ Archive of Our Own ]

Malleus Draconia, the birthday celebrant, was seated at a table in the center of the dorm’s lounge. He looked even more stunning and regal in his white dress suit—a common outfit worn by birthday celebrants at the Night Raven College—that exquisitely hugged his tall figure and mesomorphic physique. He enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells of the festivities.

The party was nearly over, most of the important affairs having been done, most of the guests gone already and those left were enjoying the last dregs of conversation and food. The main banquet hall had been cleaned up after the main course had been served. It was a splendid feast, with roasted meats, baked sides, and an array of soups and salads. After that, there was a delightful dessert course, featuring a variety of chocolate, baked, and creamy delicacies.

You stepped through the ornate double doors of the large lounge where the party was currently being held. The band at the front of the room had begun to play a slow, melodic song. The lights dimmed for a moment, before coming up bright again as a spotlight shined on you. Everyone's eyes were on you now, and the room waited with breathless anticipation.

You took to the stage before the crowd. You were dressed accordingly and you looked composed as you clutched the microphone stand. With a deep breath, you allowed your eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting before moving forward. You had been pushed into a role of prominence that you were far from comfortable with, but you let yourself loose for the night.

Malleus had remained the majority of the evening in his seat, content with observing the room and taking note of any little tidbit that may interest him. The band had continued their soft, slow melody, setting the perfect atmosphere for your announcement.

As the first cheers of support came from around the room, Malleus also began to applaud in support. He was just as entertained by this yearly ritual as any other, even if you did not always seem to be in the best spirits.

"Sing it loud!" He was heard to say, and the room followed his example.

Inwardly cursing yourself for falling victim to peer pressure, you took your place on the stage that had been set up. Your dread was not evident in your confident stance and easy demeanor. Your voice cut through the chatter when you lifted the microphone and called for silence.

"My gentlefolk. You know who I am, and what I am here to do, of course. As tradition dictates, this evening is to be entertaining and memorable, as I have the honor of providing this night's entertainment."

You scan the coagulation of students and some teachers then spot your gaze upon your peers that pushed you on the stage at the side—cheering you on. You shake your head as a faint smile appears on your lips.

You took a deep breath when the band started to play the intro of the song that they have requested for you to sing. Some students of the crowd clapped when they recognized the instrumental intro of the song. Surely, you wonder about their song choice. Nevertheless, you know the song by heart and it seemed there was no room for negotiation for this one.

As you kept singing, you found yourself enjoying the act; and Malleus kept watching, paying extra close attention to you now. Every lyric sung and every note hit with precision and beauty. The first lines of verses were sung with the full support of the room, which sent Malleus' spirits soaring.

Even with Malleus still in his seat, he leaned in closer, his eyes glued on you as you sang. A light sweat broke out on his forehead despite how well climate controlled the room was, and he took a few quick breaths to compose himself, though this did little to help his attraction towards you.

You looked at the crowd again with a smile on your face, your eyes moving over each and every person there. Your voice was sweet and smooth, your delivery was almost perfect and… sensuous as Malleus would interpret it. For all your unassuming manner, your presence was strong and striking as you stood and moved in front of that audience.

Malleus' eyes had remained on you from the very start, and he felt as if he had been hypnotized in place by your voice. He felt like a teen boy again, his face still a slight tint of rosy, his attention focused on you. He took deep breaths, but his heart began to beat a bit faster. His eyes followed every movement of your lips, every expression that crossed your face.

As you began to sing the climax of the song, Malleus could not help but become completely enamored with the way your body and movement expressed the emotions of the song. Each motion, each word said it all; that this was no longer a performance, but something more personal.

Malleus was breathing quite heavily, and a fine sheen of glisten covered his face now, feeling his heart beat faster and harder than he had felt in years. He stared at you, eyes glued to every breath, every blink, every motion. In a moment of weakness, he even licked his lips before he realized what he was doing. Every word that came from your lips felt like a dagger to his heart, though they were quite beautiful.

You took a deep breath as the song reached its final chorus, your wandering eyes watched the crowd and your eyes met with Malleus'; and you both shared a knowing expression. Your eyes remained locked with each other, and you could feel Malleus' eyes on you as well. Not an ounce of your feelings were left to interpretation.

Malleus' breath was caught in his throat and he watched you with an almost trance-like state. As you finished the song, your eyes still remained locked, and the room seemed to disappear as Malleus remained focused entirely on you. The final chorus brought him closer and closer to the ledge of madness, as a wave of heat and excitement covered him. He licked his lips again, it is as if this entire song was written by you and with him as the subject.

Malleus felt his fingers curling as he resisted the urge to grab you by the collar or brush his fingers through your hair. The song had him in a sort of ecstasy, having played on his emotions in a way he never expected possible. The emotions played in a symphony of his senses, and it was all he could do to remain seated.

You remained staring at Malleus with the same warm, slightly mischievous smile on your face that you wore since the beginning of your singing. As you had been in the center of the crowd, you now felt Malleus' eyes on you as you shared a moment of silence.

"Thank you gentlemen, I hope you were entertained by my performance for our dear Malleus' birthday."

You held Malleus' gaze for a few seconds longer than was comfortable, and then you turned away and greeted a cheering audience with a bow, your smile never breaking. You walked off the stage to a raucous applause, your face still slightly flushed with effort and excitement.

Malleus could feel his heartbeat out of his chest, his emotions a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. He could not even hide his blush, nor turn his eyes away from your figure as you walked off stage with grace.

He remained seated for just a moment, taking deep breaths and hoping that you could not see just how excited he was at the song performance. Malleus could have sworn that you had planned for this show, and if you did, it was the most clever, well executed act of seduction Malleus had ever seen.

He took a moment to compose himself, but the images of you and the chorus kept playing in his mind. He was surprised to see how many members of the audience had their phones out and were recording the moment. Malleus took a deep breath once again and recollected himself as best he could, wanting to catch up with you before you left.

Malleus waited a few minutes, knowing that you had been performing on stage and probably needed to catch your breath and collect yourself. When he started making his way through the crowd, he spotted you off to the side in an empty hallway.

He made his way towards you, his heart beating so loudly he thought that it would give away his approach. When he finally reached the corner, he rounded the wall and saw you standing by yourself with your arms behind your back, eyes glued on the dark gothic paintings plastered on the walls.

Malleus took a deep breath and walked over, clearing his throat slightly as he approached. He hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to tell you how he truly felt. He took a deep breath and spoke.

"I have never... I have never heard someone sing like you do," his words were quiet, his tone soft and reserved. He could feel himself beginning to blush again.

"That... that song, you really sang it. You performed it perfectly, and I can't thank you enough. I have never been so... so mesmerized, so completely captivated by a song like that. Your voice…”

You turned at the sound of Malleus' voice and smiled at him, taking a moment to look the man up and down. The look that passed between the two of you was a telling one, and it was quite obvious that you both knew what was going on.

"Well, thank you for your words of appreciation, Malleus," you began to walk over to Malleus, hands still behind your back.

"I only did what I think would entertain me and the audience as well."

Your expression was that of interest, a sly and playful smile spreading out across your face as you began to take in the well-crafted suit and the handsome face of your friend. You also caught the light blush that was creeping towards Malleus' cheeks, and the way his breathing hitched ever so slightly. The man's expression was one of subtle excitement and eager anticipation.

Malleus met your gaze as he approached, his face flushing brighter with each moment. You might have been the most attractive person Malleus had ever met, as he would now admit despite the two of you being quite closer than he is to most people; and it was quite obvious that he was just as captivated by your figure as he had been by your impromptu performance.

As you drew closer, Malleus took a deep breath and stood up straight, trying to maintain some composure despite the overwhelming emotions washing over him. He placed his hands together and looked away from you for a moment before looking back again.

"I... I wanted to say.”

Malleus let out a nervous chuckle—which is a far cry from his normal disposition—feeling your presence like a warm glow around him as your eyes remained locked. You had a way of making him feel nervous and excited in all the right ways.

"I... It was... that song hit a chord with me that... I don't think I've felt that way in ages. And the way you sang it... I have had that song on a loop in my head for days, but the way you sang..."

He took a breath and tried to calm himself, "You're... magnificent.”

You smiled, eyes remaining locked with Malleus'. You took a small step closer, leaning in and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Magnificent am I? My performance must have really hit a chord then, to make you say something so... intimate about it. I am pleased I was able to please you so, Malleus."

You leaned in just a bit closer as you looked up at Malleus' unequivocally attractive features, a slight smile graced your lips.

"And I suppose I should also thank you for being such a fantastic classmate and a friend." You gave Malleus a light wink, the two of you smiling back and forth before Malleus looked away, his face still a bit flushed.

Your eyes twinkled, your smile growing and your gaze still lingering for a moment before you tilted your head upwards and pressed your lips against Malleus' own in a slow and gentle kiss.

Malleus was absolutely caught off guard by the sudden kiss, caught completely in the whirlwind of your lips. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for him. Malleus felt lightheaded, feeling his body tremble as his body grew more flushed.

The moment was surreal, and so many emotions crashed and flooded through you at once. You could feel your feet leave the floor as your lips pressed against his own, his arms wrapped around you as you both relished in the moment. Malleus felt as if time stood still, and for a moment everything else in the world just faded away. His mind was filled with a mix of elation and confusion as his heart raced at the sheer excitement of the moment.

It was so tender and gentle, but every inch of it said "I have wanted this for a while".

Malleus had to bite his bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping him. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and he felt completely and wholly weak. He wanted to kiss you for a long time, and he never knew how your first kiss together would feel so wonderful.

You held Malleus gently as the kiss lingered for just a moment, though to you it felt like hours. You felt yourself begin to puff, not from the act of kissing but from the pure emotion coursing through you. Malleus was more than a friend to you, more than an intimidating figure to fear, he was someone who you could not help but admire and adore.

You could feel Malleus' body tense, yet there was a warmth and ease that could bring him comfort and make him melt in your grasp. You could feel Malleus' heart pounding against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around your waist as the kiss lingered for another moment.

Sooner, you felt Malleus' hands grip your neck and shoulder, your chest heaving with your breathing and your heart racing. You could feel the way that Malleus felt you, wanted you... it was as if you were in a dream.

You pulled away from the kiss, your hand cradling Malleus' jaw, your thumb slowly stroking over his lips. You stayed close to Malleus, still looking up at him, your eyes peering deeply into the fae's soul.

"Did you enjoy your birthday present, Malleus?”

Malleus stood there, staring into your eyes as his mind and heart were still racing. For a moment, the only sound that Malleus could hear was his heart beating, pounding so hard it felt like his chest might explode.

"I... I don't think I could have ever imagined such a... perfect gift. I... I just..."

Malleus looked down at the ground as he tried to collect himself. Then, he finally got the nerve to look down directly at you. He still felt utterly weak in your presence, and you had only seemed to grow more stunning since the kiss. It was as if you were a perfect figure, every movement a dance, every look an enticement.

"Yes, I enjoyed it more than I have ever thought possible." Malleus gave you a brief, but passionate kiss. His heart was racing and his breath was short as he stepped back. He wanted to taste your lips again and he knew that he was in too deep now.

You let the kiss linger for a moment, gently leaning your head toward Malleus. When Malleus pulled away, you smiled and nodded, your expression one of understanding and appreciation. You could see the passion in Malleus' eyes, and you knew just how smitten the man was.

Just then, your eyes sparkled with a deep sense of playfulness and mischief, your hand that was still resting on Malleus' jaw went to Malleus' collar. With a light chuckle, you leaned your head upwards once more and pressed your lips to Malleus'; and your other hand pulled the back of Malleus' head, as your lips chafing onto his.

After what felt like hours of lips pressing in the most tender graze, you begrudgingly pulled away for breath.

"I love you, Malleus. I've been wanting to tell you that for a while now," you said with sincerity as your emotions poured out in the open for Malleus.

It was a long time coming and you were given the perfect opportunity to confess the love you felt for the few years you had known together.

Malleus was speechless, his heart racing to a point where he thought it might explode. The kiss was tender, sweet, and his desire to kiss you one more time was intoxicating. Malleus felt his heart ache from the separation, his very soul wanting to join with you, and he knew that if he did not make a move quickly he would regret it.

Malleus wrapped both hands around the back of your head and pulled you back to himself. He leaned in with no hesitation and pressed his lips to yours once more.

The kiss became more deep, slow, and completely immersive. Malleus' emotions had taken full control over him as he kissed you with a passion and love he had never felt before. Malleus pressed against you, his arms sliding under your shirt and his hands rubbing your back and shoulders; and you could hear the faint rustling of your clothes. He took the initiative of this kiss, wanting to take everything he could from you and give him everything back in turn. He wanted to give you every ounce of his body, to show you just how much he cared.

When you felt Malleus take control of the kiss, your eyes flickered open in surprise. You had never experienced anyone quite so assertive and bold, and it made you feel almost like a younger teen that had their first crush touch their hand for the first time all over again—your legs growing weak and your body quaking. You had to hold on tight to Malleus to keep yourself grounded, your mind swimming so much that you couldn't put words to your feelings.

Malleus held onto you as tight as he possibly could, his hot breath wafting on your face as his heart pounded like thunder. He was completely and unequivocally in love, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to feel your lips upon his forever. The entire world could fall to disarray, and Malleus would still keep his hold strong over the person he had fallen for.

When it finally ended, you were breathless, the passion of the kiss and the heat that it brought with it being almost more than you could bear. As your eyes slowly opened you felt Malleus' hands rub your back, his arms sliding underneath your shirt as he pressed his hand against your chest, his body pressed against yours as tight as he could.

You knew Malleus' intentions and your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest and bid you goodbye.

Your throat imperceptibly bobbed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Take me where nobody can see and disturb us."

Malleus pulled you close to him as he felt your legs giving way underneath him. Every inch of your body pressed against Malleus', and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his own felt better than any drug.

He didn't hesitate the moment you asked to be taken somewhere private, his arms wrapped around you as he lifted you off the floor. His lips pressed against your ear and he whispered seductively.

"Hold on tight."

Malleus was already in the process of pulling you to a secluded corner of an empty hallway, far away from the event and away from the crowded lounge. The corners were dark and empty as he carried you close around the corner, his hands occupied with your body. Malleus' expression was of excitement and passion, and his voice was deep and heavy as he spoke.

"You have no idea how much I have wanted you.” Malleus' heart was racing, his body practically buzzing with excitement. The moment had finally come, and he was going to cherish it to its fullest extent.

Your hands were wrapped around his neck, and Malleus felt your head pressed into the crook of his neck as he held you to his chest. You made your way to his room, where nobody was nearby, the door was locked, and the mood was intimate and exciting.

Malleus leaned against the wall, pressing you against it. Malleus' free arm and hand slid down your back and down your hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric and tracing the figure beneath. His other hand stayed wrapped around the back of your head, holding you against the wall as he slowly kissed you more and more. The kiss was aggressive and Malleus was finally taking what he wanted. Malleus' mouth was a warm, deep, and tender caress as it played over your mouth and chin and cheek.

Malleus finally broke your lips apart. Your eyes locked upon one another as your hearts raced and your breath was heavy, and then Malleus' fingers wandered over your shirt and he began to slowly unbutton it. He moved slowly, his hands touching your body in all the right places as he whispered seductively.

"Take a deep breath my dear, for things are about to become... quite intense.”

You had the greatest difficulty in taking a deep breath when Malleus' fingers started to unbutton your shirt. You watched the man's lithe fingers work their way over the fabric of your shirt, and your body felt like it had been set ablaze.

"Mm... Malleus..." your voice trembled just a little as you spoke.

You had never felt someone take such control over the situation, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Your voice was breathy, and you could feel your mind trapped in a haze as the excitement only grew and grew.

Your breath went in and out in short bursts of air and your very soul practically boiling under Malleus' attention. The man before you was the epitome of power and status, your ideal of success, and you were utterly intoxicated under his touch.

"Whatever you want, Malleus, take it. I'll be yours."

This had been your dream for the longest time, and now it was going to be made a reality.

Malleus smiled as he continued to slowly unbutton your shirt. His hands felt the warm skin beneath, feeling the muscles contract and loosen as his breath caressed your neck. As the buttons of your shirt were fully undone, Malleus slid the shirt off of your body and leaned down to lightly brush his lips against your collarbone.

Malleus slipped his arms around your waist, his warm breath hitting your skin as he whispered seductively, "There is something I would very much like to do to you, my dear.”

Malleus' lips pressed back against your collarbone, his warm breath gently caressing your skin. His hands ran over your back and sides, his fingers rubbing and caressing the figure of your body while his lips began to work their way down your chest. His warm breath continued to hit your skin with each exhalation, and his hands kept moving over your body.

Malleus' lips kept on softly brushing against your skin, his hands gripping your hip as he leaned down to your ear. Your breath was ragged, and Malleus' voice had the distinct sound of dominance about it. His voice was deep and rich, and the words were slow and deliberate.

"I would very much like... to kiss... all of the parts of your body... inch by inch." Malleus slowly slid your pants down, his lips still caressing your neck as he spoke in a whisper.

Malleus paused, his lips still against your neck. The man was flushed with adrenaline, his muscles tense as his body practically vibrated with the heat that grew within.

"May I?" Malleus' breathing was short, and his body quivered with the anticipation of what he wanted to do next. His grip on you tightened as his lips slipped away and he looked directly into your eyes. Malleus looked like a hunter, and he was about to take his prize.

You couldn't contain yourself and the response was already bubbling to the surface. You were practically a bundle of raw nerves and anticipation, and the voice you heard was like that of honey on your ears.

"Please... yes... do it. Please, I want every inch of your lips on my body," you sounded desperate, your breathing ragged and your voice shaking with the intensity of the moment. It wasn't just a thought or a desire for you, it was a need, a hunger that could only be sated in this moment by Malleus.

Malleus gently kissed your neck, his lips and the breath from his words caressing your skin and you felt like your skin was burning in every kiss. Your pants were down to your ankles in another moment, and your eyes were focused on Malleus, locked onto the fae's eyes.

The atmosphere was filled with a charged tension, and Malleus could feel your eyes exploring him as well. His fingers brushed across your body as he leaned over you, his lips pressed once again on your neck. His kisses were driving you insane. You wanted the man to take you, to explore every inch of you, and to make you his entirely.

"Please, don't just say it, Malleus, do it," the words were soft and breathless, a plea from you to your friend, now lover.

This was real, you could feel it with the touch and the words of the man looming before you. Your skin continued to burn, and your legs were weak from the excitement and the passion. Your eyes flickered open and the words in your mind left your lips.

"Take what you wish, my love. I am yours." Your expression changed to one of quiet desperation, as if the very words came from your soul itself.

"Love." Malleus spoke the word as if it were honey in his mouth. Malleus leaned over you, his eyes and lips locked on yours, and he was enjoying watching your reactions. He breathed it, whispered it, and let the word linger as his lips moved down your neck, his teeth slightly biting down, and his tongue softly tasting your skin. His hands moving to your hips and holding you.

There was no more time for games, and now it was time for passion.

Slowly, Malleus took off his suit jacket and threw it onto a nearby chair. The two of you were inside his dorm room, and there was something romantic about getting close to the person he wanted so badly and finally having you all alone. Malleus' own breath was coming in short and heavy puffs as his eyes feasted on your mess of a quivering naked body.

Your eyes widened and blushed as Malleus took off his jacket and threw it onto the chair. Your breath came in short puffs, and your heart raced in your chest. Your every nerve and muscle aches for Malleus to do to you what you both had been waiting for. You saw the fae prince in a different light, and it was more intense and intoxicating than you could ever have imagined.

You felt like you were dreaming, your eyes staring up at Malleus as he went topless. His body was hot, his flesh was warm, and his skin was tingling with desire. Malleus' touch was both tender and rough, as if he was being gentle whilst preparing to pounce on you, and you let out a soft moan as the man’s hands touched you.

Every inch of your flesh tingled as Malleus touched you and his breath drifted across your skin like a fine mist. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the moment, to forget that you were inside Malleus’ dorm room and give your heart over the man that was making your soul sing.

Malleus moved slowly, his eyes locked on yours as his lips found their target. He kissed you slowly, intimately, in a way that showed that your moment together was not one based on lust or obsession but on a desire for something much deeper and more meaningful.

Malleus pulled you close, and his arms came around you. Malleus' tongue darted around your jaw to your ear, and your own breath was coming in short and heavy gasps as you felt the fire between them grow once more.

Malleus' fingers slowly traced the outline of your body as he kissed you more. His lips danced across your abdomen and further down your hips. Your pants were down to your ankles, and Malleus was feeling your leg shake.

He kissed your thigh as he spoke. "I cannot wait any longer.”

You found yourself unable to speak, your body reacting to the man before you and your desires overwhelming your words. You wanted to scream out in pleasure and passion. Your body was burning hot from Malleus' touch, and your own hands were slowly stroking the man's back.

"Then... take me," you whispered, your words soft and breathy. "I'm yours... in every way."

The word seemed to come from your soul itself, and you let your arms fall limp. You felt like you couldn't hold yourself up any longer. The touch in Malleus' hands and tongue both drove you crazy as you felt your control over yourself fading fast.

Malleus slowly kissed his way up once again to your stomach, and your eyes were shut tight as you felt the heat increase; and your own hands were trembling as you felt everything about your senses heightened.

There was no time for games, and no time for play. The two of you wanted each other and it was time to finally be together. Malleus slowly lifted your legs, and your fingers were biting into the mortars of the wall behind you.

"You are mine and I am yours." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper, and his voice was filled with a passion and excitement he had never been able to express or feel before.

Malleus brushed one hand over your crotch as you stood weakly on your feet, making your back pressed and rubbed against the concrete wall. Your body was twitching. It sounded and looked like your breath was escaping in short and shallow puffs like an untended fire, your eyes fluttering and closing just to open wide and stare into Malleus' own.

You felt it building up inside, this deep craving and desire that you felt only grew the longer it remained unfulfilled. Your skin felt like it was ablaze, you could feel it burning under Malleus' tongue and lips.

"More... please," your voice was soft, and his breathing was loud.

"Malleus..." you whispered once again, your voice laced with lust and a desire for more. You were almost speechless, and your head was rolling back against the wall and you mustered all of your strength to stay standing on your feet.

Malleus stood slowly, his hand sliding over your ass and down your leg as he smiled. He took the moment to enjoy the situation and the person he had his attention on. Malleus' hand slowly rubbed and teased along the inside of your thighs, and both of you were heavily breathing.

Malleus watched you and your reactions carefully, noting every small change, every twitch and movement, every look and sound you made. It was a heady feeling, knowing he was having this much effect on you, but it was also exciting. The way he felt for you was exciting, and making a person as wonderful and put together as you responded to him so readily was a source of pride.

His own hands gripped your hips tightly, as if he was going to lift you up and take you right there while you both are pressed against the wall. There was something about you that drew him like a moth to a flame, something about you that made him feel like the chase was worth it. Malleus took his time and savored every touch, every moment, every word.

Malleus brought his lips back up to your face and your eyes met once more. Malleus could feel the heat of the passion coursing through your flesh, and he could practically feel the need and want, the craving for more. He wanted to take you right here, right now, for the moment was perfect and he felt it. He wanted you, and he wanted you so desperately.

"Do you want more?" Malleus' voice was gentle and filled with love.

"Yes, please... don't stop..." Your voice was little more than a grunt, but it had the effect you desired.

Your fingers dug into the wall behind, as if trying to stay standing and Malleus' hands clutching your waist to support you. You were practically shivering and your legs were parted by Malleus' thigh. You could barely think straight, let alone speak coherently.

"You want me." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper as he spoke the words. Malleus could feel your need for him, and he felt the hunger you had for him inside his very skin. The kiss was growing deeper, and suddenly, you could feel the man's hand sliding down your spine slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin, exploring and seeking for even more pleasure.

Malleus watched you fall apart in front of him and he had never felt more excited. You were his prey, and you were now a captive to Malleus. Malleus was so excited, he could hardly keep himself from biting your flesh, but he knew better. Your flesh was delicate and he loved you, and it would take great force of will not to tear you to pieces while the hunger for you built inside him.

"I want you." Malleus' voice was filled with desire to consume you whole.

And so, he did. He lifted you up and gently placed you on his bed as if you were a precious cargo; then he swiftly removed the dangling undergarments from your ankles.

He pushed you back so that you were lying on the mattress, and he let his lips explore your body once again. He kissed your chest over and over, his lips trailing down along the line of your abdomen then back up your chest—licking and nibbling the puckered nipples. He kissed your neck with long slow kisses, and then his lips moved up to your right ear and slowly moved down to your left jaw, kissing every inch of skin along the way.

"Malleus... please... " you whispered softly, your eyes fluttering in a daze.

Malleus took one look at your body and he felt his passion and his hunger build and he was finally hungry enough to take you and not even be subtle about it.

Malleus' own pants were quickly undone and set to the side of the bed. There was the sound of passion in the room, the sound of breathing and the rustling of clothes being shed. Your body was a marvel to Malleus and he took his time in admiring it.

"What a sight to behold." Malleus' voice was a whisper as he looked over your body, and then Malleus' lips and tongue made their way back to your ear. "Such a prize, to have in my hands.”

You were a mass of quivering hips, aching muscles, twitching fingers, and shallow breaths. You were trembling, shaking, and so much more as you let Malleus have his way with you.

You were a whirlwind of excitement and you were so far in over your head, you couldn't believe you hadn't both drowned. Your breath was shallow, your eyes flutter and unfocused as you let every sensation wash over you. Malleus' body and voice and words were a spell that you had just fallen under and you were utterly powerless to break it.

"Malleus... I need you..." you whispered, letting out a small gasp.

"Please..." You begged once more and spread your thighs a bit wider, your feet planted on the soft sheets of Malleus’ bed.

"Shhhhhh..." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper as he finally gave in to his own hunger.

He kissed your belly, licking and swirling his tongue along your flesh as he spread your legs even more, his tongue moving deeper down your body and his touch finally finding the place he was desperate to find.

You could feel your body shaking and you couldn't stop it. Your breath hitched and your body was tingling from head to toe as Malleus laps the flesh between your legs. And yet, Malleus felt no pity or concern for you. All he felt was excitement and hunger.

"Oh, Malleus..." your voice broke as Malleus gave in to his own passion.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as if to keep from being pulled deeper into the experience. Malleus' tongue and lips worked over your genitalia with abandon, pushing you further and further over the edge until you could do nothing but let go and let Malleus have what he wanted.

As the pleasure perpetually cascaded along your flesh, your hands mustered the dregs of your strength and grabbed Malleus' hair and pulled him back to your face. You wanted nothing more than to feel Malleus inside you like you had never wanted anything your entire life.

"I need you, I want you inside me." You grunted from the pain and pleasure as your flesh grew more aroused and screamed for more intense stimulation.

Malleus made a husky, excited sound as your hands grabbed his hair and pulled him back up. His lips were wet and sloppy from the kisses and licks he just gave you and he was quite visibly shivering now. The moment was pure heaven, and he was desperate to claim what was rightfully his and to make this moment last.

He climbed on top of you whilst spreading your legs. He held your shoulders and your arms, pushing his body down, and making sure that the two of you were close together. You had nowhere to go, no way to escape.

"You want me to take you?" Malleus almost growled the words, his voice a deep husk, and his fangs glistened against the dim lights of his room.

Malleus leaned in closer to your face as he lifted your right leg off the mattress. There was an unspoken question in his eyes, and you could see the hunger in his gaze for him.

"Tell me... " Malleus whispered the words, his voice full of desire and hunger.

You were trembling all over but you didn't feel cold at all. You felt hot like your skin was set ablaze by Malleus’ touch.

"I'm more than ready." Your voice was a breathless sigh as you looked up at Malleus.

Your genitalia was leaking with your slick from all the stimulation. You were a mess. Your hair was a mess and you were a mess of feelings too. You were ready to give yourself to Malleus, and there was no fear in that choice. It was the right thing, the only thing, that you needed right now.

"Yes," you whispered with your voice quivering in his excitement. "Oh my… god..." You let out a heavy sigh before you spoke again, "Please... please!“

Malleus was grinning as you whispered the words, as if it was the hottest, most seductive thing he had ever heard. He was a proud man, and to hear his prize say these things about him made his day.

Malleus let your legs move closer together, and his right thigh moved in between your own, slowly spreading you open wider before him. He saw the hunger in your eyes, and he saw the need in your face. He saw you open to him as you lay on his bed and begged for what you wanted.

"Good…" Malleus' voice was filled with delight. He leaned down atop your body and grabbed you by the hips, sliding his body closer to yours. His mouth slid to your ear, and his tongue was teasing one of your sensitive ears as his hand caressed your thighs.

"Ready, dear…” His eyes met yours, and the two of you looked at each other, both desperate for more after this long moment of longing. Malleus licked his lips and his smile was mischievous and cruel.

You gasped and shuddered as Malleus teased your ear, your eyes fluttering, your face flushed pink as you tried to stay in control, but you knew that there was no way he would last much longer.

"Yes! Yes, oh my god yes! Please take me. I want you, I NEED you, and I'm ready!" you were desperate, you couldn't wait another minute.

Your body was shaking with nervous excitement, and there was no fear in you, just pure, unadulterated need. You heard your own breath coming in shallow heaves, and you felt your own body's hunger as you watched Malleus move towards your entrance. You can feel Malleus' tip hitting and rubbing your pulsing core ever so slightly.

“I want you as well…” Malleus' voice was a husky whisper, his teeth gritted and his tongue working the edges of his mouth as he spoke to you. His eyes were heavy as he puffed, his warm breath hitting your skin as his desire for you grew with each word that left his lips.

You were right where he wanted you, completely vulnerable, totally exposed, completely open to him. Malleus' hands and feet slid around you, as his tongue worked over your neck, chest and arms. He was completely and utterly prepared to take everything you had to offer...

Malleus leaned closer to you once more until you were chest to chest, as his hand left your thighs and moved up your body to grip your waist. His mouth stayed glued to your ear, and he whispered softly in your ear as his body slowly slipped overtop of yours. He made sure to keep his eyes on you, his gaze firm and dominant, with a hint of desire in its glint.

"I know," he growled softly as he felt you shake with excitement. "Hold onto me... “

Your answer was a groan, a loud, lustful moan as Malleus moved over your body. Your eyes closed tightly as your body quivered, trying to contain yourself. You could feel Malleus' body against yours, and your own stomach churning with gleeful anticipation.

"Oh... oh Sevens, I..." your voice trailed off.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as Malleus’ tip started to push inside. Your eyes shut closed, all your attention was poured into the sensation of Malleus' shaft tearing its way inside you and stretching your flesh.

Malleus' mouth was right in front of your ear as he whispered to you. "You're mine, you… are completely mine."

And with a slow motion, with the speed of moving glaciers, Malleus started to thrust deliberately inside your walls.

He moved with determination and a cold hunger, for he knew how close you were to being his. He knew how much you wanted him and he knew it was only a matter of time. It was time to end this, to put the finishing touches on the perfect night.

"Hold onto me..." Malleus' command rang out once more, and his voice was a growl as he made himself clear.

He was in charge and you would know it. Malleus did not want to hurt you and he did not mean to hurt you. But, it was part of the game, and you would be fine by the end. Malleus let his movements be measured and slow for the first few seconds as he eased himself in, and then he slowly increased his pace. He wanted you to feel it, to feel every inch and every moment.

You were breathless, completely frozen in shock as Malleus claimed you in the most intimate way possible. Malleus was right on top of you, his manhood pumping fast and deep inside you, and you were helpless.

You tried to keep yourself together, but you were completely under Malleus' power and it seemed Malleus was in no rush at all to finish. Malleus moved with a confidence that matched the hunger in his eyes and the cold, dominant gaze he was giving you.

You let your hands move to Malleus' shoulders as you gasped out in the final act of surrender.

"I won't run away so claim me as your own," your words were punctuated with a low moan.

Your body shook involuntarily and your legs slowly spread even further apart to make sure that Malleus was able to move his hips faster and deeper. You let your mind go and you let his body take over. You were Malleus’, completely.

That moment of surrender was exactly what Malleus needed. He moved slower now, but his eyes never drifted off of you. He pushed his shaft fully inside you, and he stayed there for a beat, just to let you feel the force of his presence.

"I claim you," Malleus' words were a whisper, but there was no doubt as to their meaning or to his intention. After the man spoke, his hands began to slide back up your body, and his mouth was going to explore every inch of your neck.

Malleus moved slowly, but it was a steady rhythm. He was completely in control of the situation, and of you, and he was certainly going to take advantage of that situation. He wanted to enjoy every moment of this experience, and he wanted you to enjoy it as well.

You can see Malleus' face tightened as you shifted your body underneath him. You accepted the gift, and welcomed Malleus into you by bucking your hips against the fae’s. Malleus' body was moving with a slow and consistent pace, giving you enough to feel it, to build the intensity of the moment, each moment and every inch of it.

"Right there! Ah..." You whimpered breathlessly as Malleus' tip hit a sensitive spot inside your flesh despite the deliberate and tender thrusts of his hips.

Malleus' lips slowly worked their way down your neck, leaving small kisses in the wake of Malleus' mouth. He kept a slow pace, letting his motions carry your mind and body away with them. He slid your legs further apart, forcing you to move your thighs even further down the mattress, opening yourself up even more to Malleus. He was enjoying this and he was not going to be finished so quickly.

Malleus whispered in your ear once again, his voice a soft but cold voice that spoke of his pleasure…

"Enjoy it." Malleus whispered into your ear again, the words sent shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew he wanted more than just this.

He was a man of control, a man who kept calm in everything he did... except tonight. Malleus' focus was entirely on you, his words and eyes sharp and cruel, but they were a mask for the hunger he had for you. He was moving deeper now, forcing the tip of his manhood even further in.

Your mouth was open as your breaths were shallow. Your mind was lost to Malleus' body. You were his toy, one of his possessions and you belong entirely to him. You swallowed a low, lustful sound that escaped your body as Malleus' shaft kept on tearing its way inside your tight and slippery flesh. Your body tremors with anticipation, your voice was a breathy moan that you could barely get out.

"Ah... I... Malleus... " you quavered as you stumbled with your words. Instead, you responded with a moan, letting your head fall back as you gave it completely over to Malleus. Your eyes were closed and you felt your mind drifting away.

Malleus' pace was picking up slowly now, moving back and forth, back and forth, and pushing himself deeper and faster. He felt the insides of your body clenching and pulsing around his shaft in every thrust of his hips.

He whispered into your ear, "You are mine."

The words were like a wave, moving over you, the feeling of Malleus' ownership over you. It was a cruel thing, that ownership, but it was also a powerful thing. Now Malleus would have his way.

Malleus' tongue was working on your neck; licking, moving, and whispering to you the things he knew you wanted to hear. His mouth was a whirlwind of motion. Each part of your body was being worked to perfection. He knew you would enjoy them all.

You could feel every deep movement, every moment of being stretched out. Your thoughts were cloudy and you were breathing heavily. Each thrust by Malleus was a new experience. Your words came out in broken sentences, your mind was in a vortex of pleasure.

"I am, I am yours..." With each word from your mouth, Malleus' pace grew faster, and he drove deeper, faster, harder.

Malleus' voice had grown harsh and was more demanding by the second. He felt you giving way completely and he knew it was only a matter of time. He was in the driver seat and he would keep the pedal to the metal.

"Oh, you! What a mess you are..." Malleus' voice was a purr, one that carried a hint of amusement with it. It was like he was seeing you through a fog of lust and desire, of unadulterated excitement.

"Are you ready?" His voice was quiet and it carried just enough menace, just enough warning that you were close to the edge. But you also knew that the question was not a request for permission, it was a question of Malleus' curiosity.

You had taken Malleus at his word, and you were giving into every sensation that was coursing through you. Your mind was losing itself, and each moment was getting even closer to losing control.

You could feel his manhood pumping in and out of you mercilessly. The way it throbbed and twitched, how warm it was, and the way it hit so deep inside that it gave you a burning sensation. His deft hands grope your flesh with a vice grip, leaving reddish traces of nail marks here and there; and how those hands leave handprints on the back of your thighs from his harsh spanks and grip. How the pleasure and pain mixed together to drive you closer to the edge. You felt the pressure accumulating by each passing second.

"Yes!" You felt like you were in a dream, like your body was completely removed from your mind. Your body responded instantly to the harsh voice of Malleus, it's every cell moving to please him. Your voice was a mix of pleasure and agony, as if you were struggling to hold on to yourself, to hang onto life.

"More... please.”

It was like he was punishing your body. Keeping you wanting, keeping you desperate. Malleus was going to hold you right there on the very border between submission and denial, of pain and pleasure that he inflicted on your body. All the while he was making it perfectly clear that these decisions were his alone.

Malleus' voice was a growl as he pushed himself deeper into you. He wanted you to feel every inch of him from every stroke. He wanted you to feel his possession, his dominance, his power. His words were a demand, not a request. He had been patient with you the entire time, and he had enjoyed the process. That patience was beginning to fade slightly now and every single word out of his mouth was filled with a sharp edge.

"More? You want more of me?" Malleus asked, and then his fingers curled firmly on your waist, digging their nails on your supple flesh.

Malleus smiled as he heard your mumbled words and desperate moans. He knew he had you at the edge of the cliff, and with the words he just heard, he knew it was time to push you over.

"Moan for me as much as how you pant like a dog in heat," Malleus' voice was low and demanding, and his tone had shifted to a more cruel edge. “Like how you are desperate for me to fill you with my seed.”

His hands were running up and down your body, and his face was just inches from yours. He was pushing and pulling, he was taking and he was giving... he was playing with you to his heart's content. He was going to get as much pleasure as he could out of you. He was going to push you over the edge into the abyss of sensation without remorse.

"Yes, please. I want more of you. Please!" Your plea was desperate, a desperate voice of a person pushed past their limits and into a realm of sensations beyond anything you had ever known before. Your body was shaking, your legs were wrapped around Malleus, your back was pinned to the bed and your head was thrown back in surrender.

"Oh god, please Malleus! Push deeper! Faster! Please, please!" you cried out loudly in a fit of passion and submission. It was as if Malleus' body was a lock, and Malleus' voice and words were the key.

"Yes... yes... give it to me... More!" And with that utterance from you, Malleus knew that the game was over. Malleus' voice was a purr as he pushed himself even deeper, and your voice was a rasped mess of pleasure, pain, and ecstasy.

Malleus knew that you just crossed the bridge into surrender. You had no words left and your body was doing all the screaming. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was ragged.

Just as your body was wracking with waves of pleasure, Malleus pulled himself out of you, just to plunge in with a force he had reserved for very special occasions. Malleus knew that this was where it ended, and he was ready to take that step too.

Malleus' pace was frantic now, as if he had held himself back all this time just to reach this moment of pure pleasure. He moved deeper, he moved faster, he moved harder. His grip on your body was iron and his voice was cold, harsh and demanding. No man was going to take what was his. Malleus was in control. The pace and heat were increasing as you both prepared yourselves to climb the pinnacle of pleasure. His body was the paint and your body was the canvas.

"Oh you... Oh..." Malleus' voice was heavy with lust and utter pleasure.

Your body was in perpetual tremor and your legs were wrapped around Malleus, unable to let go of the fae. You were quaking so hard and was almost unable to breathe. You weren't really in control of your body at all anymore as though your body was acting on its own.

You were in a heaven of pleasure. You screamed and your back arched so much that if Malleus let go, you might snap in half. It felt like a fire that was consuming every inch of you, every nerve in your body was set ablaze. It didn't feel like a fire of pain, no it felt like a fire of lust, a fire that was spreading from inside of you and consuming you entirely. You couldn't hold it in any longer, it was impossible.

"Yes... Oh, Malleus... Yes! " The scream was enough for Malleus to know it was finished.

And with a final powerful thrust of Malleus, you gave everything you had in a final act of lust. Your voice was a loud, dragged out guttural moan, and the words left your mouth slipped in a breathless whisper. You moaned Malleus' name over and over again. It was a pure, immaculate, physical release.

There it was, that single moment. Malleus could feel it too, you were giving yourself to Malleus and that was just the beginning. He had been patient but now he was pushing for more. Malleus had found a sweet spot and he refused to let his prize slip away. His own pleasure had been growing and he would not be denied any longer.

"My dear... I am still inside you." Malleus' voice was filled with heat, with the promise of more.

Your moan was broken and raw, every bit of your energy seemed to leave you with that final release only to be replaced almost immediately with shame. Your body was still shaking but your voice was broken. You could feel Malleus still inside of you, you knew that Malleus had no intention of letting you off the leash quite yet. Your eyes were closed, your face was flushed, and you were breathing as if you were being suffocated.

You managed to find your voice, albeit barely. It was not the begging words, it was not the strength of the voice you had been using so easily a moment ago. It was the voice of a person completely overwhelmed by a pleasure you never knew existed.

"I... Yes, I need more." Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head just enough to look up at Malleus. Your hand reached out and grasped Malleus' buttocks trying desperately to keep him close as you let the fae find his own release.

Malleus was holding back no longer whilst he chased his release as you begged for more. His pace was growing more frantic than ever before. His voice was a murmur and his grip on you was a vice. His voice was becoming an endless cascade of his own pleasure, and his hands were moving in circles, kneading your body as all the while he was growing closer towards climax.

Every push of his hips sent your body into further spasms of pleasure, each moment had sent you to another intense climax. It was as if your souls were meeting somewhere in the middle, as if your bodies were two halves trying to become one.

His voice turned into a yell and he gave out one last mighty push to bring him over the edge. Malleus' voice was hoarse and it was ragged, it was a sound that seemed to echo throughout the room. He let out a final loud breathy moan and then he collapsed down on top of you as his semen filled you to the brim and flooded out of your clenching hole.

"Oh… my love." He groaned as he found his breath again. "You were perfect." He breathed out.

Malleus was laying on top of you. Malleus' breath was heavy and he was completely out of air. Your body was still wracking with waves of pleasure, as if it was still trying to adjust to the sensations that had been unleashed within. Your eyes were clenched shut and your body was shaking slightly as if you were in a dream and trying to wake yourself.

You were still struggling to find your words. There was no breath left in your body. Your voice had given out and your body was completely exhausted. The only sound that came out of you were a few gasps and a broken, hoarse moan.

Your whole body was shaking and you could barely move. You had given Malleus everything you had and you had nothing left anymore. There was nothing in your head either, your senses were all overwhelmed and you were not even sure you were still in the same reality. You were just a broken mess, utterly spent.

After what felt like an hour, although you're still breathlessly in a daze and exhausted, you managed to let out a hoarse chuckle and spoke.

"That was amazing, it was the best I've ever felt."

Malleus raised his head and looked down at you lying beneath him. He was looking at you still feeling his own sense of euphoria from the experience. He felt as if he was still high from the sensation, as if his entire body was awash from head to toe. His voice was still husky, still rough, and every breath he was taking was filled with the after effects of everything that had come before. He could not describe just how good he felt.

"You were perfect." Malleus smiled down at you, completely unable to wipe the grin off his face.

He turned his head around, his eyes locked onto yours. He leaned in as close as he could get to you and he whispered:

"The best you've ever felt, so far. " His voice was a warm growl, the kind that only promised more of what you just had.

"Oh, my dear, this is only the beginning.”

#malleus draconia #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #twst smut #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus x you #disney twisted wonderland

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