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hier--soir · 9 months

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a lover's pinch | three

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel gets a little birthday surprise, and you get a little too drunk. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, pining, f!masturbation [barely], sending nudes, joel finally locks his office door, dirty talk, the slightest slip of possessive language, uh.. ahem.. biting, protected piv birthday sex, a messy dinner party, excessive alcohol consumption [i'm talking embarassing], irritating men, soft!joel. word count: 10.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: let the pining commence folks. hey siri, play brown eyed girl by van morrison. special thanks to @bageldaddy for the emotional support as i endured the labour that was the final hour of editing this. hope you guys enjoy! this is part three of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two.

Thursday.

A fortnight passes in the slow blink of a bleary eye.

Fall nudges Summer out the door, solidifying its presence in Maine with flaxen leaves and rolling grey clouds.

The rain comes at night. Rivulets of moisture that leak onto the windowsill, seep into the cracked wood there and fill your room with the sweet smell of petrichor. It clears before the sun rises most days, but you unpack of a box of sweaters and hang them in your closet, nonetheless. You enjoy communal coffees in the kitchen and try not to frown when the morning light doesn’t warm your legs the way it used to. Force yourself not to feel mournful when you get home one afternoon and find Pete on the sofa with a blanket over him.

And perhaps that’s why when you wake on Thursday to sunshine—to warm bed sheets, to blue sky, to bright whites and yellows coming through the window—you feel lighter. Start the day with a calm countenance that has you blinking sleep from your eyes and smiling drowsily as your fingers trail the windowsill and come off dry. You share a pot of coffee with Pete; let him explain soil vapour extraction to you for the fifth time. Listen, smile, nod, and don’t roll your eyes when he asks do you get it now? And when the time comes to get ready for the drive to campus, you are smiling. Shoulders loose, eyes bright.

It had been a tiresome couple of weeks.

As the middle of the semester drew closer, you’d spent days on end poring over a laptop with tired eyes and cramping fingers. Writing and editing—and then rewriting and re-editing—your first round of essays and analyses. Balmy afternoons spent nursing glasses of cheap wine with your roommates evolved to late night coffees alone in your room, eyelids drooping as you fawned over every word, every quote, every fucking comma – all of it for him.

Him who you hadn’t been alone with in almost fifteen days.

Him whose texts were seared into your memory, left unanswered on your phone.

Him who you could hardly look at during lectures, for fear of losing your train of thought.

Him who you were hellbent on impressing.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

And as busy as you’d been, it hadn’t stopped the stares. Brief, intimate glances from down the hall in the history commons. The flash of a knowing smile as you shuffle toward the exit after a lecture. The graze of fingertips against your elbow, muddling your mind as you rush to meet a text translation study group.

Watching, waiting, wanting – a near insufferable task since that afternoon in his office.

Late into the first week you’d discovered that, upon focusing hard enough, you could still feel the ache in your knees; the rug burns his carpet had left on your skin. And then you shoved the memory of it down; compressed it somewhere deep inside, hidden away until you had the chance to open it back up again, and take your time with him like you truly wanted to.

And it seems today was that day.

You stare out the window for a moment. Sip your coffee and rake in the greenness of the grass, the cloudless sky, the ray of sun shining across your bedroom floor – and decide you’ll wear a skirt to Joel’s seminar.

The pin on his shirt is blue.

Not cerulean, or baby, or steel.

Not like how the sky was blue as you drove to campus with your windows down. Not like clear turquoise waters on a white sand beach in Greece, or like a robin’s egg swathed in leaves and sticks. But a deep, rich colour. Royal blue. A folded circular pin, with two tassels coming out the bottom of it.

It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the lecture hall – the thing your eyes snag on repeatedly as you wander towards the third row and tuck yourself into a seat. That vivid splash of blue against a plain white t-shirt. No buttons today; formal wear forgone in place of a simple tee that hugs the vast planes of his chest, snug against the thick span of his biceps. His arms are almost enough to distract you from the gaudy brooch.

Joel won’t stop moving at the foot of the room, pacing the same length of floor over and over again, waiting for the crowd to settle. Hands busy themselves at his waist, wiping a small square of cloth against the lenses of his glasses. A muscle in his forearm twitches with every swipe of fingers against glass, and the sight has a hazy flush rising in your neck. Despite yourself, you try in earnest to catch a glimpse of what the pin says. Bare thighs tensed in your seat as you tilt your torso forward, eyes squinting.

The last students wander in, and he’s shifting, sliding those glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and snatching the slide clicker from the desk. He offers a polite greeting to the room.

It doesn’t take long for someone to speak up. “Special occasion?”

Joel’s hands still, chin tilting down as he glances at royal blue and then back out at the group, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Just a thing the faculty does here,” he clears his throat awkwardly, laughs a little. It’s a soft sound, his laugh. Tickles your ears and makes you want to smile in return. “Some of the others started it a few years back… they make everyone wear one on their birthday.”

A chorus of surprised well-wishes chime from around the room, and Joel waves them away with a broad palm, shaking his head.

Even from three rows back you can see the pink in his cheeks; the resistance in his eyes as he intercepts the kind words soaring in his direction. You recognise a shyness there, an unwillingness to be the centre of attention, and it surprises you. Joel always seems so confident, standing week after week in front of 30 odd people and talking for hours. But you suppose then he can hide behind his words; behind years of knowledge and study and practice. When it’s about him? He falters. Tries to hide. You almost want to curse at him for being so endearing. And maybe you would – if it wasn’t his birthday.

“Nah, none of that,” Joel tuts, shaking his head. “Let’s get started, alright?”

He claps his hands once, and the sound reverberates through the quietening room. The fabric of his pants clings to the meat of his thighs, tightening around muscle as he rests against the edge of the desk. You fight to keep your gaze on his face.

“Today we’re gonna start with talkin’ about the instigators in our parallel texts.”

And you try to listen, you really do.

Try to focus on his words as he talks, spouting thoughts about antagonists of war, about Helen and Menelaus, about Paris of Troy, but you can’t get past the spread of his thighs against the desk. The way his body moves when he finally rises, wandering to-and-fro across the space. How his thick thumb presses against the clicker in his hand, slides shifting on the wall behind him. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the rough spell of his drawl vibrating inside your mind, spinning it’s yarn, and tangling itself in the space where rational thought normally resides. Birthday. It’s Joel’s birthday. Your hands clasp in front of your face, knuckle snagged between teeth, biting down, clinging to some far reach of clarity; something to bring you back to the ground and halt the dallied trance you seem to come under whenever he’s nearby.

Birthday, birthday, birthday.

As he discusses the Judgement of Paris, your mind wanders to a teacher you had as a child. A stern woman in her sixties who was fearsome among the gang of six-year old’s you roamed in. One year it had rained on your birthday, a spitting storm of hail and thunder. And when you cried, she told you that it only rains on your birthday when you’ve been a bad little girl.

It was sunny the next year, but she wasn’t your teacher anymore, and there was no one around to praise you for how good you must’ve been that year. For how hard you must’ve strived to achieve such wonderful sunshine on your special day.

A wry smile splits your face, tucked into the back of your hand, for you know better than anyone else just how bad Joel has been. And yet today, for his birthday, the sun shines.

He steps closer to the front row of seats, and your eyes glean across the lettering on his pin; the words Birthday Boy laid out in gold. A huff of laughter escapes you, and then your eyes are drifting up, past tan skin and scruffy facial hair, to find Joel staring straight at you. Dark, intrigued eyes. Assessing you, undressing you. Frowning.

“Somethin’ to add?” he clips.

The smile slides off your face. “Sorry?”

“Do you have somethin’ to add?” he drawls, unimpressed. The words slow and paced out as if he were speaking to a fool. “You seemed amused.”

“Oh,” you blink.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, straighten up, aware of every set of eyes in the room on the two of you. Joel’s face is stony, unimpressed. It’s the first time he’s made direct eye contact with you since you stepped into the room, and he is… on edge, clearly.

“No,” you decide on the safe answer, tone firm. “Nothing to add.”

He stares for a moment and then nods. Mutters a stern Pay attention underneath his breath before returning his gaze to the rest of the room. You scoff quietly, and swallow down the stab of embarrassment his words bring. The feeling is sour in your mouth, like the seed of a lemon is stuck behind your teeth.

Two seats to your left you hear a poorly concealed titter. Turn your head to spot a woman, maybe a year or two younger than yourself, giving you a pitiful smirk. You arch an eyebrow. Mouth what?

She simply shakes her head at you and turns to look at Joel, all glossy lips and doting gaze as she listens to his continued ponderings about Menelaus' role in the Trojan War.

You watch her for a moment. Note the way she laughs at his jokes, smiles as he goes off on a mindless tangent about something you aren’t paying attention to; hanging onto his every word. And you wonder if this is how you look to other people when you watch him. Another stark-raving Maenad, thirsting and possessed by the spirit of this Bacchant of a man. The Roaring One. The one with bedroom eyes and cheeks like wine. Joel Miller; fraught, brooding, and willing to embarrass you in front of a room of your peers to feel an inch of the self-control you've so easily ridden him of. A Dionysian fit to oppose the doomed Bacchant inside of you, whose mouth foams and eyes roll in ecstasy at the mere presence of him.

He crosses the front of the room, back and forth, and you imagine him as a bull of a man. Golden locks and thorned head, thyrsus in hand as he commands the attention of an enthralled audience. Corrals them to follow him, to adore him. And yet the image you create is distorted at best, a watered-down version of the truth, for what spites you the most is that he simply… doesn’t have to try. There are no attempts to convince; no persuasion in his voice, no dishonesty necessary as the room swoons for him. As you yourself yearn for him. Covet his touch, his body, akin to that of a God’s.

And perhaps there is some immorality there, some gross misalignment of hubris, that yearns to reset the scale. To remind this man that indeed you have knelt before him, but he knelt for you first.

The thought has your thighs pressing together.

“Well, Juno hates Aeneas because she hates Trojans. And for that we have Paris to blame,” he answers someone’s question with a chuckle. Gains a few scattered laughs in response. “Because we all know how Juno feels about Paris.”

You rise from your chair, legs shifting before your brain can catch up. Take careful, tip-toed steps towards the exit. Joel’s eyes drift in your direction, curious gaze draping over the bare skin of your legs as he talks. Just for a second though, a split second, before he’s looking determinedly back to the room, and you’re disappearing from his line of sight.

“And so, she thwarts the Trojans every chance she gets,” his voice grows softer as you stray farther from the door, until it’s nothing more than a vague purr down the hall. You wander into the women’s bathroom and slip inside an empty cubicle.

Birthday, birthday, pay attention, birthday, they make everyone wear one on their birthday, pay attention.

Your brain is abuzz, nerves alight as you place your phone carefully atop the toilet paper dispenser. Trembling fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the warm skin of your thighs, and yes you’ve been wet since you saw him. Turned on from just the sight of him, the sound of his mellow voice, the idea that maybe, just maybe, today you will get to touch him again. You can feel how it clings to your panties, sweet soft warmth pooling out of you, a dizzying wetness that longs for Joel to come and find you. To take you in his hands, tilt you down to his parted lips, and drink it from the source.

Your fingers are cold against your skin. A delighted shiver swims down your spine as you graze them along the front of your underwear. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, simply grazing over the spot where your clit has begun to pulse. A little firmer now, you press against the thin material of your underwear, let it slip between your soaked folds. You bite your lip to contain a soft sigh, and smile as you feel how wet the material is getting. Once you’re satisfied you pull your hand away, leave a shimmering streak against your leg where you wipe your fingers, and reach for your phone.

Position one foot on the closed seat and rest your back against the cubicle wall, angling the phone between your spread thighs. Tilting your phone this way and that until the camera catches you in the perfect light; the flared material of your skirt bunched around your hips, the shiny smear across your inner thigh, the damp stain of slick against the front of your light blue panties. You take a few pictures. Trail your hand down your stomach and let it appear in some of them as well; fingers poised over the band of your underwear, just a tease. Finally content, you tuck your phone away, splash some cold water on your neck, and wander back into the lecture theatre.

Joel looks up when you walk inside. He’s seated behind his desk now, the room quiet as people jot down notes, eyes flitting between their laptops and the presentation displayed across the wall. Furrowed eyebrows and brown eyes shining with that barely-contained interest they always seem to hold when he looks at you these days. You offer him a nonchalant smile before turning your back to him. Sway your hips with exaggerated emphasis as you waltz up the stairs, slide back into your seat, and take your phone back out.

No one’s watching you now. Not your fellow Maenad, with her sharp judgemental eyes. Not even Joel. Your fingers dance their way into your text thread with him, and you select your favourite from the pictures.

You glance at the two lone messages in the thread, gaze lingering on the second message.

That can’t happen again.

Hesitation grips you, fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplate the seriousness behind the words. And then you hear him answer someone’s question, and the rough drone of his voice has you pressing send anyway.

Happy Birthday Professor x

You imagine you can feel the vibration of his phone. Feel it groan and shift in the pocket of his pants, screen lighting up. You wonder if he’s saved your name in his phone, or if a picture of underneath your skirt just popped up from an unsaved number. You try to focus on the article laid out in front of you. Stare at the messy under linings, at the notes on the margins made in your chicken-scratch handwriting, and wait.

It doesn’t take long to feel the heat of his gaze, almost paranormal in its effect. You can feel it’s weight – how it glides across your skin, sticky, viscous, and impossible to ignore.

When you glance up, you have to resist the urge to shrink into your seat. Joel’s face is a mess of emotions. Square jaw clenched tight; lips sealed. Stormy eyes that dart furiously between you and his lap, where you imagine his phone rests. Previously neat curls are now tousled and stressed over. You watch he glares downward, and drags tight fingers through the locks again. He doesn’t look up for a long time after that. Shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he stares down.

Joel doesn’t stand up for the last 90-minutes of the seminar. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. And he certainly does not look in your direction again. Not until the little hand on the clock strikes 11 o’clock, marking the end of his seminar, does he even entertain your side of the room. And not until the last student files out the door do you rise and meet him by the desk, a knowing look in both of your eyes.

You walk ahead of him the entire way to his office. Joel keeps an all-too casual distance from you, but you can hear the weight of his steps against the hardwood floors. Can feel his looming presence over your shoulder – sense his bursting need to get you alone. You only fall into step beside him when the office door comes into view, and then he’s herding you towards it, palm pressing flat against the small of your back in trivial, insistent shoves.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Joel nudges you inside his office.

There’s music playing inside. Soft waves of sound undulating toward you from the record player, and yet when he drags the door shut behind him you still hear the undeniable click of his key turning the lock. The window is closed, curtains half-drawn, and the air in his space is warm; almost stuffy from lying dormant and empty for hours.

Silently, Joel makes his way across the room to where his record player sits. Your eyes trail him faithfully, trained on how his shoulder blades shift like tectonic plates beneath the thinning fabric of his shirt. The urge to wander forward and pull it off him is intense. To run your nails down his skin and leave marks on his body the way he’s done to you.

“You think you’re funny?” his voice comes, a low murmur that you almost miss through the music. He lifts a hand and pulls the glasses off his nose. Tucks them carefully onto the table.

“Funny?” you reply, mouth suddenly dry.

Joel shifts the needle, restarting the record. Momentary silence swells into a bright intro, and he’s turning to look at you, thick arms folding across his chest. Your heart is a galloping staccato behind your sternum. A bead of sweat glides from the hollow of your throat down your chest, dampening the fabric of your shirt.

“Sendin’ me that picture of your pussy all wet for me,” he tuts softly. “Knowin’ damn well, I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

You swallow as he takes a step towards you. His hands drift to the front of his body, and you watch with bated breath as long fingers begin working at the silver buckle on his belt.

“Y’gimme nothin’ for weeks, don’t even pay attention during my fuckin’ classes, and then…” he pauses, almost glaring at you. But it’s not contempt in his eyes. No, it’s something else, something deeper—black brown peppered with frustration and lust and… There’s a lump in your throat. Something heavy that presses against your windpipe and makes it hard to swallow.

“You get off on this, hmm?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Torturin’ me? Makin’ me wait?”

“I’ve been busy,” you murmur, eyes fixed on where he drags leather through the beltloops of his pants. He discards it on the ground between you – an offering, an invitation.

“Busy girl,” he murmurs dryly. “And what about now? Now that I’ve got you here all alone… you gonna make me beg for it?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of him on his knees, palms clasped in his lap, and it has that slick heat pooling between your legs. You want to denigrate him the way you feel he has done to you. Order him to kneel, to apologise, to fucking beseech you. But Joel’s eyes are dark, face drawn as he watches you. And you know that you’ve already gotten even.

Royal blue swims in your vision and you give him your best smile. Shake your head and say, “Not today, birthday boy.”

Something glints in his eyes, hands twitching by his sides. You mirror him, finally inching forward a step across the carpet. His belt is solid beneath your shoes.

He’s shifting in an instant, swallowing the final stretch of distance between you until his chest knocks into yours. The breath rushes from your lungs at the contact, and his hands are clasping your face, mouth slipping against yours in a brutal collision.

It’s rough, messy, teeth knocking and chapped lips. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since that night at the bar, and it consumes the both of you.

Joel’s body seizes yours, wraps around you and holds you to him, gripping the skin of your arms, your neck, your face, anywhere he can reach. Saliva pools in your mouth and wells into his, low sounds of desire being swapped back and forth between dripping tongues. There’s something desperate about it – how his lips bruise against yours. Something earnest and needy and urgent in the way his thumbs dig into your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair around your ears.

You’re gasping into his mouth, hands dropping to undo his zipper in a frenzied hurry. You can feel him behind the material, a firm bulge that becomes more and more evident as you work to get him undressed. His hands drop to your waist, your ass, and he’s pressing up, up, up the hem of your skirt, nails digging into skin as he squeezes and pulls you flush against him. Broad palms splayed across searing flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging dangerously close to where you’re aching for him. Your fingers shift from his pants to your own shirt, gripping the hem to tear it over your head—but Joel stops you. Bats your hands away and hoists you off the ground instead.

“Shit,” you huff in surprise, holding his shoulders for support as his arms tighten like a vice beneath your thighs and around your waist. He cuts you off with another sweltering kiss, and he’s moving. Stumbling blindly backward, a blurred mess of two people, all harsh exhales and clashing teeth, tilting back, back, back until his calves hit the armchair and he’s dissolving into it, dragging you down with him. Your knees sink into the plush fabric on either side of his waist, and his hands are on you, bunching your skirt up around your hips until your underwear is visible. He breaks the kiss and looks down quickly, lip curling upward as he takes in the sight of your barely covered cunt hovering over his lap.

“Fuck me,” Joel breaths. He cants his hips upward, clothed cock grinding against you. The pressure on your clit is exquisite. It has your nose scrunching up as your shallow breaths flutter the curls across his forehead. “Dress like this for all your classes?” he asks, fingers snapping at the band of your panties before his hand drops to cup your entire sex. “Fuckin’ filthy girl.”

“No,” you gasp as his palm settles over you. “Only—oh fuck, no, no, only yours.”

A rough sound escapes him, and he’s pushing the material of your underwear to the side. Thick fingers glide over the coarse hair on your mound, dipping in between your folds, right to the beating centre of you. You stare at his face while he stares at the swollen mess between your thighs.

“S’damn right,” he grunts. His eyes are ablaze. “Just for me.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, face warming at the words, and you’re whimpering as he rubs firm circles over your clit. Joel’s tongue presses against yours, coaxes your jaw open until it aches.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he marvels into your mouth. “Always so fuckin’ wet.”

A finger drops to your slick hole, slips slowly slowly slowly inside until the tip of it is curling against the soft spot inside you that he reaches so fucking easily. The air in the room is thin, his breaths a hot wash against your face, and a languid moan snakes its way out of your throat.

“Quiet.” Joel adds a second finger. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers so long, so thick – fingers that pale in comparison to his cock.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Hmm?” he hums dangerously.

“Please,” your head tilts back, mouth ajar and thighs trembling as he works you open on his fingers. Joel lets out an impatient sound, and then his fingers drop from your swollen core, and he’s holding a condom. He must’ve pulled it from his back pocket, or between the cushions of the chair, but you don’t dwell on it. Don’t care where or how or why, too restless to be filled to ask; just give a pleased nod and lean back so he has enough room to free his cock from his pants.

The thick weight of it rests in his palm. He’s swollen and thick, the tip a deep rosy colour that reminds you of his flushed cheeks, his puffy lips, and has your mouth watering. And it’s wet with slick strands of precome that drip down his length to meet the movement of his fist.

“S’this what you were thinkin’ about?” Joel breathes shakily. “Got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll latex down his length. You ignore the familiar urge to say forget it just take me I’m here and I’m yours just fuck me. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. Drags his cock against the dripping seam of your cunt. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you repeat, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. “God, Joel, please.”

A sharp wet smack and a trembling gasp fill the air as he taps the tip against your clit, and then rests himself at the notch of your entrance.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he orders huskily, hands drifting to rest on the arms of his chair. “Go on, fuckin’—ride it.”

Breathing heavily, you reach down to grip him. holding his length still as you lower yourself over his lap.

There’s a stinging resistance there – your body pushing back against the size of him, against the angle.

Joel’s fingers drape against your clit and he rubs soft circles above the spot where you’re connected. You grip the back of the chair, face twisted in muted concentration.

“C’mon,” he breaths, jaw set with clear intention. “Fuckin’ drippin’ for me, y’can take it, I know you can. Yeah—yeah, that’s it.”

You sigh, body relaxing, and you’re pressing down, through. Sink down on him another inch, and then another, until he’s bottoming out inside of you and the skin of your thighs is flush with his pants and he’s making this rough, low sound from deep in his chest. Your mind goes blank for a moment, vision whiting out and lungs squeezing as you hold your breath and adjust to the sheer size of him, to the delicious burn between your thighs where he’s stretching you. And everything is soft and hazy around your mind, but you can see Joel’s eyes on you. The glassy, blissed out expression on his face as you clench around him. His hands drift to your waist, fingers groping bare skin underneath where he holds your skirt up.

“Fuck,” Joel pants. “So god damn tight.”

A pathetic whimper catches in your throat as you grind down, clit rubbing against the coarse hairs at his base. You’re so full, every sense heightened by the feeling of Joel, pressing you apart and making a home for himself inside of you.

Slowly—tentatively—you rock your hips forward, rutting against him in short, shallow movements. His hands encourage your body, guiding you along his cock as you gain confidence.

Soon enough your hips are lifting and dropping back onto him, over and over, tilting against him, doing whatever it takes to drag more hopeless sounds from his mouth. The music from his record player is a low, thrumming bassline in the back of your mind, every bright refrain of guitar punctuated by sharp gasps and elongated sighs.

Joel’s eyes shift from the space between your bodies to your face. Pupils blown, sweat beading along his forehead. Watching you, he seems to fall backward, into himself perhaps. His body goes slack against the armchair, head lolling back as he stares.

“Jesus,” he mutters lowly. “Missed this perfect little pussy.”

There it is again. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You clench around him at the word, rut your hips in a particularly rough movement that has Joel’s eyes rolling back and a guttural moan falling from his lips. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths, the tendons and veins in his neck on display as his chin tilts upward. A bright red flush has raised across the exposed skin of his collarbones, his neck. You lean in and lick the skin there, skirt your teeth across his pulsing jugular. Joel’s palm clasps the back of your neck, holding you against him. You can feel his thighs tensing below you, and then his hips begin to snap upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. The angle is harsh, and he's filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock bruising against the deepest part of you. You cry out against his skin, and the hoarse sound only spurs him on.

His wide palm shifts to hover at the base of your neck, slips beneath the collar of your shirt. Splays over your collarbone, dull fingernails grating against the skin above your breast, by your armpit. You lean back to let him see you, and his eyes drop to watch the way your hips roll over his lap. His finger snags on the strap of your bra and it snaps against your skin.

“Take it off,” you mutter urgently. Need to feel his skin against yours. Chest to chest. Heart to hea—

“No.” His hips snap up into yours faster, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand grips the armchair, one his shoulder, trying to find some kind of leverage as he pistons into you from below. That fucking Birthday Boy pin is still stuck to his shirt, and blue flashes in the periphery of your vision. A particularly rough thrust has a loud moan parting your lips, but as soon as it begins Joel’s hand is crashing over your mouth, fingers gripping your face to silence the sound. Your eyebrows raise, silently questioning overtop his hand.

“Need to shut up,” he grits out. “Gonna—ohhh—gonna get us caught.”

You glide your tongue against his palm, taste the salt on his skin. Feel his fingers squeeze your jaw harder in response. And then your own hand is moving from his shoulder, fingers gliding across the sweaty skin of his neck, to slot over his mouth. You stare at one another, wild eyes locked, palms sealed over slick lips, and something fiery pulls taught between you. Liquid heat spreads through your muscles, tightening and loosening with every movement of his body against yours. You can feel the coil at the base of your stomach tightening. Your pussy throbs in a rhythm sympatico to that of your heartbeat, and your fingers squeeze around his face.

You can feel the vibration of Joel’s moans against your hand, and then his teeth are sinking into the soft flesh of your palm. For a moment you wonder if he’ll pierce the skin. Let your blood seep from the wound and spill across his tongue; a sacrificial offering. Drink you down, devour you as he lies within your body. You bite down on his palm in return, holding his gaze as your bodies grind and rut against each other.

Your back arches suddenly, and your forehead knocks against his as your orgasm steadily approaches. Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours. Your shoulders begin to lock up, thighs burning, but he doesn’t let up. His hips collide with yours at a devastating pace, and his free hand drops between your thighs. The pad of his middle finger circles your swollen clit, and you jerk against him, every nerve inside your body fraying and sparking.

Joel slurs a curse against your hand and then you’re coming with a haggard whine into his hand, walls constricting around him in a vice grip. You close your eyes only to discover that royal blue is stained on the inside of your eyelids, unavoidable. He is unavoidable. Even in the darkness of your own mind, he lurks. The smell of him in your nostrils, the taste of his spit in your mouth. You think you hear a garbled version of your name spoken into your palm, and then a stinging sensation rips across your ass as Joel starts to come, fingernails dragging across skin, as he grinds his cock desperately into your pulsing heat. Your eyes flutter open, body shivering with the aftershocks of your high, and you watch him. Admire the way his jaw softens beneath your grip, teeth retracting and leaving dull indents on your skin in their wake.

There’s a low pinch between your thighs. It rings out minutes later, a sullen ache, as you lift your hips and let him slip from your wet clutch. His hands fall from your body, and you suck in stale air, taking a clumsy step off his lap to stand shaking on the ground before him. There are circular white marks on his cheeks, lingering reminders of how you held him, smothering his wanton groans of pleasure. You watch them slowly fade to pink, and try to settle the unsteady breaths that wrack your frame.

Your fingers drop lazily to adjust your underwear, but then those hands are tilting your hips, encouraging you to turn until your back is to him. They slip beneath your skirt, find purchase on the band of your panties, and slide the drenched material down your legs. You step out of them, and gasp in surprise when he flicks your skirt up again. A shiver travels down your spine as he glides a finger through your swollen cunt.

“Joel,” you whimper, lips poised to say that it’s too much, too soon, that you need a second to breathe.

But Joel exhales a quiet groan, and something sharp nips the sensitive skin of your ass. Peaking over your shoulder, you find Joel’s mouth there, wet tongue soothing over the mark his teeth made on your flesh. There’s a slip of blue clenched in his fist, held protectively in his lap beside his softening cock.

You feel the vibration of something against your skin, a murmur of words that you can’t quite make out, before he pulls back. Retracts all points of contact, carefully removes the condom, clears his throat softly as he tucks himself back into his pants. The tell-tale sound of the moment drawing to a close. You swallow down that familiar tang disappointment and hold out a hand for your underwear.

And then Joel surprises you.

This soft, teasing smirk lights up his face, and Joel knocks your hand away. A huff of surprised laughter escapes you as he rises and wanders toward the desk. You watch, stunned into silence, as he drags open a drawer on his desk and tucks that blue slip of fabric inside. It slides closed with a definitive thud, and Joel falls down into his desk chair. His eyelids must be heavy, because they droop closed while you watch.

There’s a damp patch at the bottom of his t-shirt that has your face in flames, but he doesn’t seem to care, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his body relaxes into leather. Your legs tremble as you grip the strap of your bag, taking that as your cue to quietly head for the door.

“Liked your essay.”

You pause with your fingers on the door handle. Turn to find that his eyes are still shut.

“You’re only saying that becau—”

“No,” Joel interrupts, the firm tone a sharp contrast to his lax frame. Eyes open now. “It was good.”

You hum quietly and rock back onto your heels. Unsure of what to say, you settle on offering him a small smile. He nods in return. The silence drifts back in, and you find yourself unable to speak until his eyes close once more.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

So softly, so as to not disturb. And you aren’t sure whether he heard you or he’s already fallen asleep, but you do notice the corners of his mouth tilt upward ever-so-slightly.

Friday.

A crimson tablecloth covers the expanse of the table. Deep dark red, almost brown, reminiscent of old blood.

Plates smeared with remnants of a dinner long-past litter the surface, dirtied knives and forks stacked precariously atop them. Sauces have hardened to thickened globs on the China, sticky and stale and calling out to be cleaned. But the end of the evening is nary in sight, as Ian, your gracious host, deposits another bottle of wine onto the table.

“It’s a Cabernet Franc,” he slumps back into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you. “My parents brought it back from their trip to Bordeaux this past Summer. A gift.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for the thousandth time in three hours. Pour yourself a generous glass and taste it. Say, “I’m more of a Merlot fan,” despite being drunk as all hell and having zero knowledge to help discern between different wine grapes.

Pete offers a supportive smile, and you watch as his friends light fresh cigarettes that send plumes of smoke to the already stained roof of Ian’s apartment.

Ian’s girlfriend Claire, a wildlife and conservation biology undergrad, is draped across the chair to your left. Eyelids half closed; her slim fingers grip a half-smoked joint for dear life, hand hovering dazed in mid-air between her thigh and her face. You think back on the words Pete spoke to you this morning in the kitchen – there’ll be another woman there, don’t worry. And Claire’s great, I swear. You try to reconcile his words with the girl beside you, and the dank smell of burnt weed drifting toward you through the air. She’d been high when she arrived, and after speaking a measly three words of greeting in your direction, had sequestered herself to a chair and smoked through the entire dinner. When none of the others batted an eye, you held your tongue. And their nonchalance became clear when, upon completion of the meal—overcooked chicken, sticky carrots, and undercooked parsnips—Ian and Henry lit up cigarettes at the table too.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to attend the dinner party.

They’re really cool, Pete had blabbered into his mug that morning. We do it every Friday. It’ll be nice to have you meet some of my friends.

Oh, Pete. Cool, they are not.

Henry and Ian, friends from one of Pete’s environmental engineering units, are filthy rich. The kind that you can smell from a mile away. The kind that radiates from their expensive clothes, their manufactured pearly teeth, their god-awful haircuts. The kind of rich boys that have their own apartments in Portland, paid for by a Mummy and Daddy who holiday in Europe every summer—a trip that Ian has managed to bring up at least once an hour since the moment you met him.

The one beautiful, stunning, gorgeous saving grace is that there is alcohol – enough to ply yourself with in order to deal with Ian, who asked what your postgrad was in and replied slyly, “Oh, a fun one.” Ian, who, upon learning about your translation internship in Greece, said, “Sounds like you had a marvellous vacation.”

In return, you sat like a good little house guest—ornament—and listened to the three of them talk ad nauseam about engineering. Consume glass after glass of wine, decline cigarette after cigarette; you get profusely intoxicated as they debate—interrupt each other—the validity of different pollution control policies.

It’s not until early in the fifth hour of the dinner that Ian raises the topic of philosophy.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” he says, cigarette hanging limply between wine-soaked lips. “That these old guys would just hang out all day and… what, talk? Never understood why people rave about Socrates and Aristotle all the time. Just a bunch of sad sacks that liked the sound of their own voices a little too much, if you ask me.”

You hum against the rim of your glass, decidedly unbothered. Nothing you haven’t heard a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. His dining chairs are stiff, and your ass is aching against the heavy mahogany. Pete shifts awkwardly to your right. You can feel him looking at you, trying to gauge your impending reaction, and your face remains placid, numb from all the wine rushing through your veins.

“Is that what your degree is like?” Ian asks. “A bunch of old guys who love to listen to themselves talk?”

And that almost makes you crack a smile. You respond with a lacklustre shrug that neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, and definitely don’t think about—

“I don’t know,” Henry slurs, shooting a pointed glance in your direction. “I used to date this girl—”

“You fucked her once,” Ian interrupts.

“—Rita—"

“Rose.”

“—and she studied all that shit. Used to tell me about that guy who, he, uhm,” Henry pauses. Belches loudly. “He said something about God committing suicide and like, we’re his body or—wait what is it?”

“Mainländer,” you nod, mildly surprised. “Yeah, it’s a creation theory of sorts – God commits suicide to create the universe, and we’re all living on his decaying corpse.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Of a potential God’s potential suicide?”

“Yeah,” Henry grins dopily.

You sigh. “Would’ve been cooler if he left a note, I suppose.”

Henry guffaws loudly, leans back until his chair is balanced precariously on two legs. The cigarette falls from his fingers to his lap, glowing orange cherry leaving charred ashy marks on his jeans. If you were more sober you might’ve said something. But as if were, you just laugh and drain the final dregs of wine from your glass.

“So, your degree involves stuff like that?” Ian asks then.

“Sometimes,” you hum, already bored with the hint of mockery you sense in his tone. “We study the societies as a whole, so yeah, there’s talk about philosophy on occasion.”

“And mythology,” he wiggles his eyebrows from across the table, fluttering his fingers in the air. “Must be fun to talk about made up ideas all day.”

Henry clears his throat roughly and plucks the cigarette out of his lap, all remaining hints of laughter filtering into silence.

You stare. Feel your hackles rise. Sharper this time, as a more acute sense of irritation floods your system. “You do know that Greece and Italy are real countries with real histories, right?”

Claire moves for the first time in fifteen minutes, takes a long drag from her joint. Exhales in your direction.

“Sure,” Ian shrugs. “But you have to admit, all the stuff about the Greek Gods is a little silly.”

You spare a quick glance in Pete’s direction and find him wearing a tight, awkward smile, looking at you with something apologetic in his eyes.

“Silly,” you repeat the word slowly. It as though your brain is working at a thousand miles a minute, desperate to catch up with the conversation. Constantly two steps behind wherever Ian is dragging you. And he’s giving you this smarmy, sympathetic smile that screams oh your poor thing, you have no idea how poor your future job prospects are, and you’ve seen that smile a hundred times, had this conversation a thousand more, and you can suddenly envision yourself reaching across the table and pouring your glass of wine into his lap.

“And what about the rest?” you ask tersely. The collar of your shirt scratches against your neck, and his cigarette is spilling ash onto the fucking table, and he’s an asshole, and you want to throttle him for getting off on belittling you.

“The rest?”

“The rest,” you nod. “I suppose I can admit that those gods are silly, so long as we’re also admitting how fucking laughable biblical Gods ar—"

Pete says your name sharply. You pause, seal your lips shut. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the wary glint in his eyes a reminder that you’re a guest in Ian’s apartment. Ian’s apartment that was paid for by Mummy and Daddy; Ian’s apartment that has a crucifix above the kitchen entryway.

“More wine?” Pete asks smoothly. He’s rising from the table before you can respond, lifting the bottle and pouring a swell of red into your glass. Ian’s grin broadens, and a fresh round of irritation flares across the back of your alcohol sodden brain.

“Gimme a second,” you mutter, pushing your chair out. Your body sways as you stand, blood rushing to your head. Blinking the dizzy spell away, you grip Pete’s shoulder for leverage and make your way past him, shuffle down the hall and into a swanky bathroom. Your feet are heavy, mind a blur, as you collapse onto the toilet seat and rest your face against the cool tiled wall.

“Silly,” you grumble under your breath. “You’re fucking silly… asshole.”

Digging your phone from your pocket, you squint against its harsh light. Fingers fumble across the screen to your messages app. Tap Nora’s name, and hold your finger against the voice memo button.

“Nora,” you mumble, nose squished against tile. “It’s awful, you... I need you to save me.”

There’s a roar of laughter from the dining room.

“Why do men always have to be the smartest person in the room?” you continue as the sound dies down. The tile is cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the boozy flush that’s taken over your body.

“Pete is such an—” hiccup “—asshole for inviting me to this, I swear—”

Your phone hits the ground with a sharp clatter, and you curse, torso tilting forward as you reach clumsily for it. When you tilt the screen back to your face, a jolt rushes through you. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, at the picture. There’s the soft sound of rushing water in your ears – your pulse, you realise.

“No,” you mutter, senses sharpening the longer you stare at the picture; your soaked blue panties. At the voice memo underneath said picture, that had certainly not gone to Nora. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

A moment of painful clarity comes when you make out the delivered sign below the voice message. Blurry eyes dance across the screen, vaguely deciphering the capitalised word MILLER. Panic swirls in your stomach, a churning writhing thing that feels a lot like nausea.

And then a text appears.

Are you drunk?

Your thighs are still numb from sitting for so long, so you slink dejectedly onto the floor and type out a response.

yes

that wasn’t for you

Ten minutes pass. You stare at the bright screen until worn-out tears prick in your eyes.

Doing okay?

tired

ate bad food, drank alotta wine

Probably time to go home.

cant drive

thought you hada phd? telling me to drunk driev

bad profeseor

Five minutes. Pete knocks on the door to ask if you’re okay and you assure him that you’re fine.

Where are you?

You type out the address carefully. Wash your hands in the sink and combs wet fingers through your hair to tame your appearance before skulking back into the dining room, where the vulture awaits you.

“I’m going,” you announce blandly. Claire is asleep, you think. Ian and Henry are playing an aggressive game of cards. Only Pete looks up.

“How are you getting home?” he frowns.

“Got a ride,” you mutter. Collect your things and give his shoulder a brief squeeze before slipping out the front door.

The air is cool outside the apartment building. A sharp breeze whistles through the parking lot, snakes it’s way beneath your clothes to curl against your skin. You welcome the chill. Rub lazily at the goosebumps on your arms as you glance at the last text from Joel.

Be there in 20.

You’re perched on the stoop when headlights finally appear. You curse, eyes smarting as you duck to avoid the harsh fluorescents, and then a black truck is idling a few metres away, engine purring. The passenger door kicks open and you squint, trying—and failing—to see inside through the darkness. Until—

“Get in.”

You’re barely in the car before Joel is pressing a bottle of water into your hand. The plastic is sweating, damp with condensation, and you sigh in relief. Press it against your neck, your face.

“Drink it,” he says sternly. You crack an eye open and look at him. He’s so close. Just a hairsbreadth from you, in a soft t-shirt and jeans. Glasses on the end of his nose. Fluffy hair—bed hair. There’s a soft frown on his face that dips and rolls in your vision. A downward tilt to his mouth as he puts the car in drive and tears away from Mummy and Daddy’s apartment.

“Hey,” you give him a lop-sided smile.

“Hey."

“Were you in bed?”

“You stink,” Joel ignores your question. “You chain-smokin’ in there? Christ.”

“Not me,” you huff in frustration. Take a small sip of water, careful not to spill on the seat. “They were smoking at the table. While we were eating.”

“Who was?”

“Pete’s friends.”

“Who’s Pete?” Joel grunts. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and his eyes are set on the road. Only when you don’t respond does he look back at you.

“Who’s Pete?” he repeats. Something stony in his voice. You smile.

“One of my roommates,” you offer. “Why? You jealous?”

“Quit it,” he bites out. “You gonna tell me where you live or am I s'posed to guess?”

Your smile spreads into a full-blown grin as you type your address into his phone. He snatches it from your hand and tells you to drink it all. You sit in silence for a while after that. Roll down the window and let your hand rest outside the car, fingers fluttering as the wind whips past them. He’s driving fast, green traffic lights blurring in your vision, and you feel your head spin faster, harder. Mumble under your breath.

“What?” he asks, voice too loud.

“Slow down,” you repeat, inhaling a deep breath. You feel him ease his foot of the gas instantly, a hand coming to hover over your knee.

“You feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

You let your eyes slip shut. Just for a second. A minute. And then—

“Hey.” A firm hand is on your shoulder. Thumb pressing into the skin beneath your collarbone. “Wake up.”

You jolt upright in the seat. Rub a palm roughly against your eye. Forget that you’re wearing makeup until you see black smeared across your hand.

Joel is saying something as you climb out of his truck, but you don’t hear it. Too busy pressing the door shut behind you and stumbling up the paved path to your house. Cool metal slides in your palm, numb fingers grappling for purchase. You scratch the key against the door’s aperture once, twice, and then feel it slip from your hand. A wave of dizziness hits as you watch it clatter against the ground.

“Shit,” you grumble. Bend down to pick it up. Rise and try a third time as silver swims in your vision. You hear a car door slam, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and slur another impatient curse under your breath.

“Let me help,” he says from behind you.

“It’s fine,” you protest, skin searing with embarrassment.

“C’mon.” Joel’s warm hand covers yours. Pries the key from your palm and unlocks your front door in a one easy movement. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can do it.”

“Just let me help you.”

You practically float down the hall, buoyed by the thick arm around your waist, towing you along. In your room, Joel clicks on the lamp in the corner. Dim orange light envelops the space as you fall back onto your bed with a huff, shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“You need more water before you sleep” he says. “And a fuckin' shower.”

“Mmm,” you agree, eyelids fluttering. “I'm… just gonna lie here for a second.”

The responding sound is that of heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall. A fleeting rush of liquid somewhere in the distance. Your eyes close for a minute, maybe two, and reopen to find Joel’s broad frame hovering in the doorway, holding a glass of water and gripping the doorknob as he assesses your most private space. Your eyes are hardly open, but you can see him in the dim light. Glancing into the darkness of the hall and then back to you, slumped messily against the pillows. After a thick moment of silence, he steps decidedly across the threshold, and closes your bedroom door behind him.

As you watch him, you begin to feel a sense of startling clarity.

Joel Miller, in your house. Joel Miller, in your bedroom. Joel Miller… seeing you make a complete fool out of yourself.

“Oh fuck,” you blurt out.

“What?” Joel asks sharply. He rounds the bed in two quick strides, and then he’s pressing a glass of water on your side table and sitting beside you. His weight on the side of the bed has the mattress dipping, your body tilting onto your side to face his back. A wave of nausea strikes suddenly, and you suck your lips into your mouth. No.

“Y'oughta warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” he warns.

“M’not.”

“You better not.”

“I won’t.”

“Think you’ll need about ten of those,” you hear him say. “But one glass is a good start.”

But there’s already an ocean inside you. Rocky, white-wash waves that lap at the walls of your stomach, press against your lungs, and have your mind swaying even as your body lies still. Fingers, moving faster than your brain, seek purchase. Crawling across the sheets to snag your index through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. Chilled skin against worn denim, an anchor. Something sturdy to calm the eddying current inside you.

“What’re you—”

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” you interrupt, eager to distract yourself.

Joel is silent for a while. Keeps looking down at you until he finally says, “Yeah,” so quiet that your ears strain to hear it.

There’s a hint of something there that you can’t quite read. An emotion that he holds clasped in tight hands, just beyond your reach. You let it be, mind distracted by the soft orange light emanating from the lamp. When you close your eyes it glows against the back of your eyelids, vibrant swaths of sunset and marigold that make it hard to fall asleep just yet.

“Seventy, right?” you tease.

An indignant scoff rings out, and you squeak as a set of rough fingers pinch at the skin of your exposed stomach. The quickest touch, just a graze of flesh, before he’s pulling back. You laugh easily, open your eyes to look at him again.

“Careful now,” he warns. But you can see humour in the lines by his eyes, the quirk of his lip.

Your finger wiggles against his belt loop, tugging on the material there once. A tired patience in your eyes as you wait.

“Fifty,” he finally concedes, smile wavering as his gaze darts to the sheets.

“Mhm,” you murmur. Lips part as you let loose a low, impressed whistle. It comes out as more of a lacklustre exhalation of air. Joel’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter when he meets your eyes again, a little more relaxed. “The big five-oh, huh?”

“The big five-oh,” he repeats simply. Tired as you are, you can see the question in his eyes. This searching, curious thing that rakes across your features, waiting to note any hint that you might be perturbed by the fact.

“S’nice,” you offer quietly instead. “Get any good gifts?”

The muscles in his neck strain, shirt tightening around his shoulders as he turns to look at you head on. Soft eyes gleam with something darker, teasing, as his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Sure,” he agrees, voice low, suggestive. “Good’s one word for it.”

Warmth floods your stomach and your toes curl. But you falter under the intensity of his gaze, a weary heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze lowers to his collarbone.

“Hey," you say quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me out tonight, I just…”

Joel’s eyebrows pinch the middle of his forehead, relaxation dissipating as he stares.

“Sorry,” you grimace, skin on fire. All of a sudden, your finger feels swollen in his belt loop, a promise that you can’t keep, the fabric branding hot against your skin as the words tumble out of you. “I’m just, I’m pretty wasted, and I’m grateful, you know, but I don’t think I can—we probably can’t fuck tonight—"

Joel says your name quickly. His hand is gripping your bedsheets, sun-kissed skin against pale yellow. “We’re not fucking.”

Unwitting relief courses through you, and you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay, I just wasn’t sure if you thought maybe… I don’t know—"

“Thought that if I gave you a ride home you owed me a fuck?” he asks plainly, expression tight. A dark, frustrated laughs spills from his lips and his shoulders are tightening, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not how this goes, darlin’. So don’t go thinkin’ that way, ever, y’hear me?”

You blink, eyes wide. Suddenly alert. Feel the warmth in your stomach spread to your chest, your thighs. Darlin’.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah, that’s—how does this work then?”

The indent between his brows only deepens as he gazes down at you.

“You call the shots,” Joel says. “I thought that was well established by now.”

His brown eyes look so soft in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Honeyed and golden in the warm orange haze. You stare at them for so long that you lose track of whether or not he’s answered your question. Forget everything that isn’t the lines beside his eyes, the dark speck of his pupils, the wild hairs of his eyebrows. You feel yourself drift closer to sleep again.

“Pretty,” someone says faintly. You. “You’ve got brown eyes.”

“Jesus.” He’s still frowning.

“Brown-eyed girl,” you sing—slur.

“Alright, Van Morrison,” Joel grumbles, the lines in his face softening. “Drink up.”

You do as he asks, gulping down half the water while he watches. His fingers rest cautiously at the base of the glass in case you drop it. And when you’re finished, he takes it from your hands, stands. Another wave crashes inside you when the mattress shifts in the absence of his weight, and you drift, unmoored, onto your back again.

Joel is staring at you. Towering over the bed, hands jammed awkwardly against his hips. His presence so large, so looming. He crowds your small space, his size ensuring that there is no room for another; only you and him, you and him, you and him, and you call the shots. You squeeze your eyes shut, determined to block that thought out.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you mutter. “If that’s alright with you, teach.”

Joel says something, but it’s a far away sound. You tuck your face further into your pillow.

You think you hear him say good night, or some version thereof, but you don’t hear him leave. Don’t hear his boots on the hardwood, or the creak of your bedroom door. Don’t hear his truck start up outside.

And when you wake, alone, you find that droplets of rain have settled on your windowsill, marking another wet September morning. But you don’t frown as you drag a sweater from your closet, nor as you draw the curtains and clamber back into bed. Don’t yearn for the warmth of Summer as the dull ache of a hangover ricochets inside your skull. For you can smell Joel on your sheets; can still feel his presence lingering in the corners of your room.

And that’s warm enough for you.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5

thank you for reading! x [and idgaf okay i was gonna put that birthday boy pin on him no matter what shitty excuse i had to come up with]

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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buckybarnesb-tch · 7 months

Note

In your last post you said about Klaus getting turned on by watching the reader eat?

Could we have more on/about that in a separate one-shot if you have the time? 💕

One More Bite -Klaus M.

I combined this request with another one I had gotten in my PM’s for Klaus’ mate giving him a blowjob when he’s in his wolf form, so fair warning on that.

If that is something that the original requester isn’t okay with and you don’t want to read this, send me another request and I’ll write something else for you as I understand you may not want to read something like this because it’s for such a specific kind of reader I assume (even though I am one of those readers).

Warning: Severe Warning on this fic! This fic contains Smut while our favorite Hybrid is in his wolf form! Blow-Job warning! Klaus becoming aroused by watching his Mate eat food. Also brief mentions of a school shooting when talking about the Scream movie series.

Sitophilia: Arousal involving food

Don’t Like=Don’t Read

Dead Dove:Do Not Eat!

Klaus has no clue where it came from.

It started when he was in Alarics body in the lunch room, watching over his Doppelgänger and her friends was proving entertaining to him…until he saw her. Y/n was a friend of theirs that didn’t seem to be all that involved in their Supernatural affairs, blatantly ignoring them as they spoke about the immortal Hybrid that sat 2 tables away possessing their History teacher.

She was a beautiful girl, one of the sweetest the 1000 year old man had ever seen, he swore it was true with how kind and naive she seemed to be. Klaus felt the need to protect her and ensure her safety, swearing to himself he would leave her out of all of this but just as he was about to leave the lunchroom he found himself captivated by her once more. It took a bit too long to notice that he was staring at the girl as she ate her lunch.

Klaus had never really been fascinated by watching someone eat before and it was an odd thought all together, but he couldn’t deny his enjoyment at watching her…he also couldn’t deny the raging erection in his pants that he willed away as strongly as he could as he wasn’t in his pants or his body and he was Not dealing with that!

He had gone to the front office later that day, finding her file and reading as much about her as he could. Her name was Y/F/n, she was on the honor roll with mostly all A’s and a few B’s, he found her address as well as the fact that she is emancipated and living in that apartment alone. He looked more into that, finding out that her parents had died a few months prior (when Damon had released the tomb vampires) and she lived on money they left as well as what she made working in a movie theater in the next town.

He found himself hating the idea of his girl being forced to work a job on top of going to school and getting amazing grades, only to come home to an apartment all alone with no family and no real friends as that Scooby Gang doesn’t seem to be very close with her. Klaus can’t explain his feelings, his attraction, or why he wants to take care of her so badly but he knows he doesn’t want her working this hard so that she can be all alone and in pain.

Klaus ditched Alarics body as soon as he was able and while his witches were dealing with the things he needed for his curse, he made his way to the next town and into the little movie theater. He walked into the theater and up to the snack counter where she was sat, reading something on her phone before jumping up as she saw him.

‘Good afternoon sir, what can I get for you to make your movie experience better?’ She asked, a smile on her face as if anyone could enjoy this job everyday. He hated seeing the dark circles under her eyes that she tried to cover with makeup, he wanted to see her in a comfortable bed, sleeping as much as she needed, wanted to watch her enjoy breakfast in bed with the knowledge that she didn’t have to go to work or school or do anything other than be with him. He found himself staring down at her as he imagined feeding her that breakfast while his cock was still buried deep inside of her cu- ‘Sir?’

‘Sorry, lost in thought there.’ He chuckled and she did as well.

‘I do it all the time, no worries. Can I get you something to eat?’ He looked as if he was considering it before responding.

‘Actually, I would love to get you something to eat.’ She looked up at him confused and he thought it was adorable. ‘Would you like to see a movie with me?’ She was shocked by this, clearly, and didn’t respond very quickly. ‘What time do you get done?’ He asked as if he didn’t know it was in 5 minutes.

‘Oh, I’m done in about 5 minutes. I have to get home and study for a test though-‘

‘Aw, let yourself relax a bit. Let me treat you to a movie, you can get whatever you want to eat, and you can pick the movie.’ The blush that spread over her face was adorable and he loved every second of it.

‘Really? Even if I pick a chick flick?’ He nodded, seeing a coworker walking out to take over her shift. ‘Okay, I want to see 5 Nights at Freddy’s…let me go get changed.’ Her smile lit up Klaus’ whole world and he smiled as he watched her walk away, her cute little ass nearly on display in the short skirt she had to wear as a uniform. Klaus only waited about 5 minutes for her to return after getting the tickets (and experiencing the man’s shocked face as he bought all the tickets in the entire theater so that they would be alone), wearing a dark tank top and fluffy pajama pants. ‘Sorry about the clothes, I was prepared to go home and get in bed.’ She explained but he waved her off.

‘Not a problem, next time I’ll wear pajamas too. I’m Nik, by the way.’ He teased, seeing her eyes light up at the idea of a second date.

‘Y/n, nice to meet you Nik.’

‘Alright, what do you want to eat?’ This was a dine-in theater, and while Klaus remembered when theaters sold popcorn, soda and candy exclusively, he found himself happy about the idea of providing his girl a good meal and getting to watch her eat it.

‘Oh, I’ll just get a small popcorn-‘

‘You just got off work, you must be hungry. Please let me get you a meal? Anything you want, if you don’t choose I’ll choose for you and I’ll be forced to feed it to you.’ He teased, wrapping his arm around her waist to test the water of how she felt about him touching her and to his surprise she leaned into his side, allowing his hand to stay on her waist. She was attracted to him too, he could practically smell it, and it made the Hybrid truly happy to know that his girl at least liked him as well.

‘Fine, okay. Hey Kyle, can I get an order of cheese fries, please?’

‘And?’ She shot him a teasing glare before rolling her eyes.

‘And a large order of chicken tenders with extra honey mustard. And since we’re bending this guys wallet, I’ll also have a large chocolate brownie milkshake-with extra chocolate sauce…I hope you like chocolate cause I won’t drink all of that, it’s huge.’ Klaus just grinned as he handed over his card. ‘Wait! You’re not getting anything?’

‘A bucket of popcorn too, please?’ He ordered and she stared at him as he paid for the wildly overpriced food. He carried the popcorn, allowing her to drizzle butter all over it along with salt before they went and found their seats, a girl bringing Y/n’s food about 10 minutes later just as the movie started.

‘I can’t believe there’s no one else in here, especially this late.’

‘Is this a popular movie?’ He asked, genuinely having no idea what it’s about. Klaus hadn’t come here with any intention of watching a movie, he just wanted to be with his girl so to him, the movie didn’t make one single fucking difference.

‘Oh yeah, it’s based on a horror game that I loved, plus Matthew Lillard is in this so I want to see it desperately. People really believe that his character is just Stu from the Original Scream a few years after he “died”. Which he 100% didn’t by the way.’ He could see how sure she was of this and enjoyed her dedicated belief to a movie she clearly loved.

‘How are you so sure he lived?’ He wondered and she turned her body to him more, ready to explain her theory.

‘Okay, so he was supposed to be the killer in the third scream movie! He was cast and everything but they had to scrap the whole plot. It was going to be based on a school shooting but that was right as Columbine happened so they changed the whole movie. Respect for them not doing that, 100%, but it proves that canonically he is absolutely alive. I don’t really get the connection to this movie, but if people believe it then why not?’ He nodded along, enjoying himself as much she seemed to enjoy these horror plots.

‘You’re a horror movie girl, aren’t you?’

‘Yup. Which is weird cause I used to be terrified of all scary movies but now I love them. We should have a horror movie marathon, clearly you haven’t seen the Scream movies and if you haven’t seen them, what else haven’t you seen?!’

‘Most of them, I’m not much of a TV watcher. I mostly just paint in my free time, I’ve seen a few though. The one in the mask who tries to kill his sister.’

‘Michael Myers, Halloween.’ She said, instantly knowing what he was talking about.

‘The Hick who has a chainsaw and wears people’s faces?’

‘Leatherface, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’

‘The demon people, one of them has pins all over his head?’

‘Pinhead, HellRaiser. Truly an amazing movie, probably one of my favorite plot lines.’ He was amazed at how she knew every one of these from just the simple descriptions, he knew they were probably popular but it was so cute how sure and excited she was.

‘And the guy with knives for hands.’ Her eyebrows raised as he said this.

‘I’m going to assume you mean Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street as we’re talking about horror movies and not Edward Scissorhands which is a sad movie that ripped my soul from my body. It a great movie but it’s sad as hell. Why are people so mean to everyone just because they’re different?’ He shrugged at this.

‘People will always judge what they don’t understand, especially when it’s other people. It’s always been that way.’ He knew from personal experience and Y/n seemed to hear the emotion in his voice because she reached over and took his hand in hers.

‘People suck. Cheese fry?’ She offered, holding out the box and he took one, watching as she bit into a couple as the lights went down. He was thankful for his vampire vision as he leaned back into the seat and kept his eyes on her. She was fascinated by the movie but he was fascinated by her. Klaus watched as she ate, finally getting to watch her eat a meal that wasn’t a snack in a cafeteria. The idea that he had provided his girl food, a real meal (for seemingly the first time since he first saw her 3 days ago) was satisfying to say the least. He stared as she ate her fries, her tongue peeking out every now and again to lick the cheese from her lips, causing his cock to twitch every single time. The moan that came from her as she first bit into a piece of chicken had him fully hard and completely desperate, watching as her tongue licked the honey mustard from her finger, her lips wrapping around her thumb and sucking on it with a “pop” as she pulled it from her mouth. He was so lost in his thoughts as he watched her perfect little mouth, he didn’t even hear the words that came from it. ‘Nik? You okay?’

‘Hmm? Yes! Of course, I’m great…you’re so damn gorgeous, and it’s distracting.’ Her cheeks turned red as he said this and she couldn’t hide it from him.

‘You are really sweet…please tell me this isn’t some kind of weird joke.’ As she said this his mind was ripped from his fantasies, confused as to why she would think something like that.

‘What? That’s crazy, why would you-‘

‘You walked into a movie theater without a ticket, came up to the food counter and asked me out to then buy a ticket and buy me dinner. You’re either the oddest and luckiest man in the world considering I was finished my shift when you came in, or this was planned and someone put you up to it…I’m an 18 year old girl in high school on a date with a hot dude in his 20’s…you can at least imagine why I’m a bit skeptical?’ She looked sad and he hated that he had caused it…why is this girl getting to him like this?!

‘I’m sorry that you feel the need to be skeptical of someone asking you out. I admit, I planned to ask you on a date. I saw you yesterday and I thought you were lovely so I decided to ask you out, I thought taking you to a movie after work would be a nice idea, I also thought you would enjoy relaxing and watching a movie right after your shift-‘ A look of guilt overtook her eyes as she realized how much thought he put into asking her on this date and she felt horrible instantly.

‘Oh God…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a bitch! I-‘

‘No you’re not, relax love. It’s okay, I can see why you were questioning the situation. I want to take you out again, I enjoy you already and I admittedly enjoy feeding you.’ Her eyes widened a bit but she couldn’t turn more red than she already was.

‘Oh…okay? I-I can honestly say I haven’t heard that one before but it sounds nice to me.’ She joked as he reached out, picking up a French fry and feeding it to her, grunting as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his thumb to get the melted cheese off of his skin, taking her time a bit too much as she did this and Klaus couldn’t hold in his groan.

‘Christ Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.’

Through the rest of their date Klaus enjoyed feeding his girl nearly all of the food he had bought her, her insisting he at least have some as well and he brought her home that night, pressing his lips to hers sweetly and deciding he liked that his girl blushed 90% of their time together.

It was 3 days later that he found out why he was so desperate for this girl more than any other in his entire lifetime.

They had been texting almost all day every day along with him visiting her daily, Klaus getting everything ready to break his curse and actually getting it done with some help from his annoying elder brother (after he tried to murder him) before running off into the forest, his wolf determined to get where he needed to be.

It was the first time in 1000 years that Klaus could hear his wolf in his head the way other werewolves could. In the almost month he had been a Hybrid 1000 years ago he had gotten used to him being there and the curse had taken that from him.

As his paws slammed against the dirt, sprinting through the forest Klaus couldn’t help but wonder where they were going and he quickly got his answer.

“Mate!” The voice he had so sorely missed, growled roughly.

“Mate?” He wondered, having heard the term before but knowing that werewolves finding their mates was extremely rare. Maybe because they were so far out of time if Klaus’ mate being alive 1000 years after his human life was an indication. “Y/n is my mate…no wonder I’m so drawn to her!” A happy feeling was bubbling up in his chest as he realized he had finally found his mate, something he had hoped could exist for him since he found out soulmates were real for wolves.

“Need Mate! Need Mate Now!” The aggressive growl was almost concerning to him as his paws slowed to a trot when he arrived at the home he had been visiting his girl in for the last few days.

“She’s going to be scared! We can’t let her see us-Stop!” He snapped, feeling stupid that he was literally shouting at himself.

“Mate Knows! Mate Not Stupid!” His wolf snarled, sounding offended by the idea that she didn’t know who he was. He scratched at the apartment door and Klaus tried to control his body, to run back into the trees and away from her when the door swung open and his Mate looked down at him in shock.

‘I have to be honest, didn’t see this coming Nik. I mean I got the whole “Nik-Klaus” thing, Elijah told us all your real name but…what exactly do you want me to do with this?’ She asked, clearly entertained by him showing up in his wolf form. He whined, scratching at the doorframe which made her chuckle. ‘Okay, you can come in Niklaus-oh, okay.’ He walked into her apartment before she was even done speaking, hopping up onto the couch and staring up at her as if waiting for something to happen. ‘I seriously thought your interest in me was a joke when I realized who you were. Damon was making fun of me for falling for it…you’re actually into me, aren’t you? Cause I figure you being here right now means either you really like me or you plan to rip me to shreds in my own home. Which is it?’ She asked him and Klaus rolled his eyes, laying his head onto her lap when she sat down beside him on the couch. ‘Oh…good…I could get used to this.’

For the rest of the evening Klaus lounged on Y/n’s couch with her, watching horror movies from the extensive list that she had made of “Horror Movies Nik Needs to Watch”. He also enjoyed once again watching as she ate her dinner, or his personal favorite, watching her eat a pint of ice cream. God, he wants her tongue on his cock so badly, which she noticed as it was on display and larger than one would expect. To her credit, she ignored it for quite a long time, pretending it wasn’t there until the voice in his head made it physically impossible any longer. He was talking about all the different ways he wanted to bend her over and fuck her tight little cunt until she was begging him to stop, practically drooling over how her tongue peeked out and licked the ice cream off of the spoon, desperate to watch her lick his cream off of his hard cock which is around the time his member began leaking onto the blanket underneath him on the couch.

‘Nik?’ She questioned and he lifted his head from her lap to look up at her, as if pretending he hadn’t been staring at her this whole time. ‘Do you need help?’ He tilted his head as if asking her what she meant…she couldn’t possibly mean- ‘Do you need help with your…problem? It’s distracting and it seems to be getting worse.’

At this moment Klaus is happy that he is not just a vampire, but also in his wolf form and unable to show her how embarrassed he is with a look on (what would now be) his completely red face. He couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped him before jumping down from the couch and trotting over to the door, scratching the wood and waiting for her to release him. “Let Mate Help!” That aggressive voice piped up again and he tried to shove it back down.

‘I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave, I…I mean if you wanted me to, I…it would have to be really fucking private, I mean if you ever told anyone I would skin you alive!’

Klaus suddenly felt his tail come to life, wagging around behind him like crazy as he released a small “yip” sound, moving back over and hopping up onto the couch again, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

‘Ahh! It’s cold and wet!’ She was giggling and it was a sound that Klaus knew he adored from the moment he first heard it in the schools cafeteria. ‘I hope you realize that when you’re human again, I want an explanation as to why watching me eat gets you so worked up.’ She teased, moving from the couch to her knees. ‘Are all wolves cocks this big, or is it a werewolf thing?’

“Perfect Mate! Pretty, Perfect Mate! Need to Fuck Mate!” Klaus shook his head quickly as that thought came from nowhere, trying to keep his wolf from controlling anything else when suddenly his cock was enveloped into her hot mouth causing the pathetic sounding whine that exited him.

Her lips were stretched wide around his thick member as he now leaned back against the couch, wanting desperately to hold onto her hair but knowing that he can’t. He settled for one paw resting on the back of her head and couldn’t hold back the growl that burst from his chest, her tongue trailing over the head of his cock which nearly made him finish laughably fast.

You could have never convinced Klaus that this would be something that he wanted, in 1000 years the thought had crossed his mind, of course, but it wasn’t something that really got him off until now. Now, rutting into his mate was all he could think about like it was playing on a constant loop in his mind. As he looked down and saw her on her knees in front of him a content purr built up in his chest. He didn’t know how deeply he had longed for his mate, maybe if his wolf hadn’t been bound from him, he would have.

His thoughts were cut off by the choking noise that came from her as his large cock hit the back of her throat. “Perfect Mate! Perfect Little Tongue!” The growl that exploded from him made her eyes widen in fear before he was cumming in ropes into her mouth, her hand coming up to catch what leaked from her lips.

‘Fuck!’ She cursed after swallowing everything he had to give and looking up at him, as if an innocent little virgin who hadn’t just sucked his wolf cock into next year. ‘Do all werewolves cum that much?’ She giggled and he whined in response, leaning forward and licking her face. ‘I’m not doing that again until you prove how good you are in bed as a man first.’ She was teasing him but he nipped at her throat, catching the skin and watching a drop of blood rise to the surface. ‘Ow…shouldn’t you be out slaughtering innocent humans right now?’ He shook his head, which he’s sure looked like a dog shaking off the water after being in the rain. ‘But that’s what you were going to do before finding me?’ He didn’t respond to this, simply moving to lay down across her lap as she sat back on the couch. ‘It’s okay, I’ll still be here when you’re human again, go.’ He peeked up at her, from this angle the light made her look like an Angel sent from Heaven, as if a gift just for his devilish soul.

“Stay Close! Never Leave Mate! Never Again!” He really hopes that once he fucks his mate and makes her his that his wolf will calm down about her, he may be right but he’s intense.

‘Go Nik, I’ll be right here when you get back, I promise. I have nothing to do tomorrow, I will stay until you come and get me. When you do we’ll order take out and you can stare at me while I eat it.’ He sat up, making a questioning noise that he honestly didn’t know he could make. ‘I Promise.’ She insisted, jumping up and opening the back door towards the woods. ‘I won’t leave, I won’t open the door for anyone either. Get, before you get needier and decide to hump me in my sleep.’ He did as she said, leaving out the back door and taking one final look at her before he was gone, running through the woods as he had always longed for, every day of his immortal life since it was snatched away from him and for the first time in his very long life, knowing that he had someone to come back to.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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devonpink · 2 months

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April Fools

"You actually found some!" Oliver was astonished when his best friend and fellow nerd, Jake, proudly entered his room with two conversion bottles. "How did you manage to get your hands on those!?"

"I've got my ways," Jake smugly replied, giving Oliver his infamously devious grin. "Now, let's down these bad boys!"

A chill of excitement went down Oliver's spine as he hastily got off his computer chair and sped over to Jake. Nervously biting his bottom lip, he took one of the bottles from Jake's hands. They removed their caps and took a curious whiff, immediately appalled by the strong scent.

"Damn, that's quite a stench!" Oliver said in shock, followed by a slight cough. "You sure these are the right ones?"

"Come on, dude. You think I'd fuck up something this important!" Jake scoffed.

Oliver took a second to gaze longingly at his newly opened bottle, his mouth-watering. "So, these are going to transform us into jocks, big, muscly jocks permanently. Fuck, I've wanted this for so long."

Jake smiled. "Then let's not waste any more time, dude." They clinked their bottles together and chuged. Oliver could feel the effects of the magical concoction immediately kick in. His shirt and sweatpants instantly felt tighter. He glanced at the mirror, amazed to see his skinny, little body suddenly bulge and swell with ripped manly muscle. A wave of pure joy poured over him as he finished his bottle, ecstatic that his nerdy life was finally history.

However, Oliver's excitement ceased when he realized Jake wasn't transforming; he hadn't even downed his bottle, either. Instead, he was smugly crossing his arms and grinning maliciously from ear to ear, a look that gave Oliver a pit in his stomach.

"Why aren't you-?!" Before Oliver could finish, his mind became overwhelmingly fuzzy, the second phase of the magic kicking in at high gear. He tried getting out his words, but it was impossible to think straight as his body swelled and bulged even further.

"There, there," Jake said while softly petting Oliver's newly chiseled head. Let those worthless thoughts slip away. Just relax and enjoy your transformation." Jake then casually walked behind Oliver, his hands seductively caressing Oliver's newly bulked biceps as he turned. He slid his hands up Oliver's shirt and removed it, exposing Oliver's ripped chest and plump nipples to the cold air. He softly rubbed his throbbing bulge against Oliver's tightening ass, turning Oliver on. Jake stroked his fingers over Oliver's tender nipples, heightening Oliver's lust. Oliver's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Jake licked the black of his neck and worked his hands down to his stiffening crotch. "Your gonna be such a good, dumb jock, aren't you?" He playfully whispered into Oliver's ear. "You'll be my big, dumb jock. My mindless, obedient toy. Only wanting to satisfy my every desire."

Oliver's transformation was close to finishing. It wouldn't be long till his mind was completely gone. Drops of sweat started flowing down his body as if he had just returned from a rigorous gym session. His mind was getting so empty, except for the new desires for working out, playing ball, and obeying Jake, his new master.

"Didn't I say you could trust me?" Jake playfully said, stepping back in front of Oliver and grinning deviously, pure lust in his eyes. "April fools, dude."

And just like that, Oliver's old self was gone. His transformation finished. Rippling abs, broad shoulders, wide chest, perfect biceps, a firm ass, massive feet, and an empty head. He was now the jock of Jake's dreams. Oliver smiled like a dumbass and vacantly stared into Jake's evil eyes, awaiting his master's command.

Jake got down on his knees and pulled Oliver's sweatpants down, revealing a precum-stained bulge in Oliver's boxer briefs. He looked up at Oliver, feeling like the king of the world. He took a moment to appreciate the magnificent view of Oliver's sweaty chiseled perfection before taking Oliver's newly-enormous cock into his evil, greedy mouth.

#gay #transformation #dumbification #male tf story #tf story #male transformation #dumbing down

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

On the complexities of relationships and words

Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex.

Word Count: 13k (yeah... this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut(r18+), NSFW, MDNI, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature.

Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah... I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.

Side Note: here is a little dabble

Love, an emotion that sets the heart on fire. An all-consuming emotion that feels as if one was falling off a cliff while also being embraced tight by the treads of fate. The emotion that’s only separated by a thin line from madness. Or at least, that is how it’s been described to you through books and movies.

With love being the inspiration for so many poets, artists, and heroes throughout all of history, it comes as no surprise that you found yourself curious about it. It started out innocently, you would listen to the latest romantic ballads from the wandering travelers along the streets of Sumeru. In the nation of wisdom, books were plentiful yet you found your teenage self buying certain novels from Inazuma. Then came the films from Fontaine which you’d spend a week’s worth of pocket money on.

What first began from your childish curiosity became a hidden infatuation. You wanted to feel those emotions described in those songs, books, and movies. So you began your journey to seek it out. Your first relationship filled you with a certain rush, an excitement to finally experience a scene from those novels you loved… but you were only left with disappointment.

Kisses felt bland, holding hands felt awkward after too long, and eye contact uncomfortable. There were no lingering thoughts that kept you up at night, no pink haze of pinning, nor a spark that set your chest ablaze. The breakup didn’t come as a surprise, and even so, it didn’t leave you with those gut-wrenching heartbroken sobs into the pillow as you’ve seen in the movies. Just disappointment.

Perhaps it's because you were basing your expectations on relationships you can never experience. Those songs, those books, those movies? They were all about the bond felt between Alphas and Omegas.

The maddening ruts and needy heat that left your cheeks flushed when you read about them. The touching gestures of scenting, the descriptions of the additive aroma of their beloved, their fated mate. The marking that proclaimed to the world their undying love. You’ll never experience that… since you’ve presented as a Beta.

The worker ants of society, the largest class sandwiched between Alphas and Omegas, the extras in their movies. The category of society that can neither produce nor reciprocate pheromones, the population that lived in mediocrity in the eyes of romantics.

Of course, love was possible for Betas, after all in a population that makes up the majority, there will always be the few that find ‘true love’. But that’s an advanced scholarly topic up for debate, with the societal consensus being that it’s the lowest tier of love. All pairings with Betas belonged in this tier.

Alpha-Alpha, Omega-Omega, and at the very top of the tier list of ‘true love’ was the Alpha-Omega pairing. After all, love scientifically is created by chemical bonds in the brain with oxytocin, the love hormone. Pheromones kicked the production of oxytocin into overdrive, creating an addiction that makes a person long for their lovers every hour of the day. The chemicals that create the fire of romance you once wished upon shooting stars for.

Thankfully with time, as you matured into an adult you resigned yourself to your fate. You found solstice in your one advantage as a Beta over any Alpha or Omega: True independence. Free from the chains that are primal desires brought on by pheromones, your head was clear, decisions not dependent on the fever that was love.

You had given up on searching for love, hey, if you set the bar on the ground then there was less risk of being let down. So that’s why you agreed to your parents’ suggestion of an arranged pairing. To be matched to a life partner by a matchmaker.

“Eh? Isn’t that practice kinda outdated?” Dehya questioned.

“Don’t the city folk use the akasha system, using genetics for compatibility or something?” Your Alpha friend carefully tucked away her compact mirror.

“Actually, I think that’s really romantic! The traditional way matches you by personality and lifestyle compatibility.” Nilou grasped your hands, wishing you luck.

“I agree, old fashioned doesn’t mean it's ineffective. It’s still very much practiced in Aaru Village.” Candace sent a slight side-eye to your other Alpha friend across the table.

Perhaps your Alpha and Omega friends were trying to cheer you on, but frankly, they didn’t need to. The next day when you met with the older woman, you went through the process with a sense of boredom. When answering the matchmaker's question, you stated you just wanted a life partner that was honest, loyal, and respected your individuality.

Next, the matchmaker asked about your interests, you recalled all the literature you used to consume during your obsession with love, and embarrassed by your fruitless past endeavors you answered books.

“What kind of life do you seek, my dear?” Her wrinkly hands intertwined as she leaned on the table.

“A peaceful, quiet life.”

And that was it. She wrote down your responses with a bejeweled quill pen, handwriting beautiful and neat as if she were penning down a poem for you. You were free to go home. Walking down the streets of Sumeru, the dusk birds singing to their lovers, you didn’t even wonder about the Beta she was going to pair you with. You had a full day of work tomorrow, what you really wanted was a full night's rest.

So a month later, you couldn’t hide the bewilderment on your face as you stood in front of a tall Alpha, the partner the matchmaker had deemed a good fit. From his piercing teal orange eyes to his sliver hair to his towering physique, everything about him was the picture-perfect definition of an Alpha.

‘Alhaitham’ was his name, and you must admit it fit him quite well. His face remained unchanged even after his mesmerizing eyes passed over your form quickly. You couldn’t read the lack of expression on his face, was it disinterest? Indifference? Boredom?

A part of you wanted to take your parents to the side and whisper in their ears that the matchmaker was a quack. Who in their right mind matches an Alpha with a Beta? Before you could do so, the matchmaker lead your parents out of the room, giving the two of you some privacy to get acclimated. A heavy silence hung in the air as your bodies stood a respectable distance apart, deciding to break the silence you first stated the obvious.

“I’m not an Omega.”

“I’m aware.” His deep voice sent a small shiver down your spine. Even his voice was beautiful.

“I don’t have any pheromone, meaning I can’t bond.” You glanced up at him.

“I never listed it as a requirement.”

His answers only seemed to confuse you further, perhaps he didn’t think this through all the way. Sure, the matchmaker revealed that both of you wanted peaceful lives, liked books, and believed firmly in one’s individuality. But there was a massive sumpter beast in the room as the saying goes.

“Aren’t you worried about… that time of the year…”

For the first time, his eyes met yours, you quickly shifted your eyes away.

“Are you referring to ruts? Medicine has advanced quite a bit, there are now inhibitors that can regulate pheromones and ruts. Not that you would know, of course.” He huffed out.

You couldn’t stop your eyebrow from twitching in annoyance. Ah, he’s also got that Alpha ego. You were still confused, from the look on your face he quickly deduced it as well.

“I dislike disruptions to my life. Primal desires are just disruptions. To put it bluntly, you as a Beta don’t release pheromones nor go into bouts of unsuppressed lust. Significantly reducing the risk of interrupting my time. You value individuality and are very independent, you’re very unlikely to bother me with trivial matters. All these factors add up to a peaceful, quiet life. Simple isn’t it?”

When he laid out all the reasons so clearly on the table, it’s hard to not note the truth, Alhaitham is a weird Alpha. Perhaps that’s why his grandmother enlisted the help of a matchmaker in her will.

After that day, you took home a folder full of documentation on him. Under the golden light of your desk lamp, you sorted through the information in front of you. He had no criminal record, he owns his own house close to the city, and he held a stable job with a very attractive salary.

You ponder the decision for about a week, weighing the pros and cons. Marriages in Sumeru are often encouraged with sizable tax deductions, more money in your own pocket. Employees with spouses have an easier time requesting paid time off, more money in your pocket and less work. He lacked any familial attachments, meaning no in-laws to deal with. One extra point for being very easy on the eyes too.

You ultimately signed your name on the marriage documents at the city hall, right next to his emulate penmanship. Right there under the fluorescent lights of the government office, the two of you recited your vows. The only other people in the room were your parents and the clerk filing the paperwork.

Within the next few months, you’ve carried the boxes filled with your belongings from your cramped apartment into his spacious house. Your old light novels and romantic collection of poems are now placed on a bookshelf adjacent to his. Bright and artistic covers contrasting against bland academic journals. Of course, there was no honeymoon, no break from your regular work schedules. There was no reason to.

In the first year of your marriage, you viewed him with suspicious eyes. You valued loyalty in a life partner and even though he stated he dislike pheromones and primal urges, he was still an Alpha with such natural responses. Yet, you observed that he came home every day at 5:30 pm on the dot, not a single hair out of place nor a single crease on the collar of his button-downs.

You found him to be a decent housemate, calm, quiet, and respectful of your space. Chores were divided equally between the two of you, making the shared living space organized and dust free. Of course, he was only human thus he also had some flaws.

Sometimes your foot would knock against a stack of books he had left on the floor near the numerous bookshelves throughout the house. Or how you noticed your shampoo and conditioner bottles emptying at an alarming rate, does he not know how expensive haircare is?

Alhaitham deemed you a good fit for a life partner. You weren’t disruptive nor dependent on him in any aspect. You spent your own money responsibly, a diligent person who followed a set work routine without needing any reminders.

You would alternate responsibilities for dinner, but he found your food more flavorful. You threw together ingredients with no regard for measurements, only going off what felt right, compared to his style of calculating the precise amount a ‘pinch’ was.

Of course, it’s expected that you’ve got some quirks that made him tsk internally. It was small insignificant things. Like how sometimes he would find strands of your hair left in the shower drain. Or how you often tuck his books back into the nearest shelf, not caring about if the genres matched or not.

“I commend your artistry. However, a mural made from your hair on the shower wall is unnecessary.”

“You’ve got shorter hair than me, how are you using double the product?”

“It’s all due to your perception, I’m not using any more product than you.”

“Oh?~ Then I guess the hair on the wall is all just your perception too.”

When living with another person there will always be bumps that needed to be smoothed out. But overall, life was peaceful and quiet just how the two of you liked it.

Alhaitham was Alhaitham, and you were you. Two independent individuals only connected by paper and law. Perhaps the only couple-like aspect of your relationship was sharing the same bed. Of course, this was done only out of necessity.

The only other room in the house with a bed was the guest room, even so, there was still an imbalance. The mattress was much smaller and firm when compared to the grand bed in the master bedroom.

He didn’t snore and neither did you, you didn’t toss and turn in your sleep and neither did he. With two separate blankets, he deemed that sharing a bed with you wouldn’t cause any disturbance to his sleep. You two had more than enough money to afford another bed, but just the thought of rearranging the furniture to accommodate it was too bothersome for the both of you. There was more than enough room on the bed for two bodies to sleep without ever touching.

No loud passionate fights nor lingering glances and maddening touches. Just the calm lull of normalcy. But you were satisfied.

By your second year with him, you’ve gotten acquainted with the nuances in his manner of speech. In particular, his sarcastic quips that you’d return with vivacity.

“Mmm, I appreciate the attempt. But I’d rather my books be sorted by subject rather than by instinct.”

“There’s faster ways to collect my life insurance than by getting me to trip over a book, Haitham.”

During this year, the two of you also began to use more familiar terms to address each other. Instead of your name, he’d simply call you wife, and you shortened his name. Husband and ‘Haitham’ had the same amount of letters anyways.

When the date of your courthouse wedding came around, nothing happened.

No flowers, no shiny gifts of jewels, not even a sweet dessert. After all, he found it silly to spend so much effort on a singular day instead of placing that enthusiasm into every regular day of life.

Birthdays shared the same sentiment, you’d be invited out by your group of friends to a celebration planned by Nilou, while Alhaitham would stay at home with his books.

“Happy birthday.” You placed a cup of freshly brewed coffee down in front of him.

“Thank you.” Besides your statement, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Hopefully I’m one year closer to collecting your pension.”

Alhaitham has to admit he does enjoy your sardonic humor, but you’d never be able to tell just by looking at him. He took a sip of his coffee, by year two you finally learned how not to scald the coffee grounds when doing a pour-over.

Life continued on, and the two of you were still like parallel lines traveling in the same direction side by side and separately.

It’s now the third year of your marriage. You were currently busy in the kitchen, Alhaitham had just informed you earlier there’d be guests coming over tonight. Fortunately, it’s a Friday which meant you had a half day at work. Quickly purchasing ingredients from street vendors on your way back.

He never had any guests over before, so you assumed that these guests must be important people from work.

You even made sure not to use spices that were too fragrant, just in case any of the guests were extremely sensitive to smells, as Alhaitham had informed you they were all Alphas. Tachin was a rather simple but delicious dish to make. You also picked fresh ingredients that would make a very quick and satisfying salad.

Your husband didn’t particularly like soup, but he doesn’t have the right to be picky when you’re the one rushing to cook enough food for five people, so minty bean soup will be on the table. He had a collection of wines in a separate room, you’ll leave the wine selection up to him.

Just as you finished setting the plates and dishes on the table the chime of the doorbell went off. Wiping off your hands and taking off your apron, doing a quick once-over in the hallway mirror before answering the door.

“O-oh… You’re a… Beta…”

The blond Alpha in front of you had a look of bewilderment across his handsome features. Rudy eyes peering down at you in astonishment as you maintained a polite face.

“Oof-”

An elbow was jabbed into the blond’s side as a shorter dark-haired man signaled for him to shut up.

“Thank you for having us over for dinner.” His friendly face gave you a smile.

“Welcome.” You invited all the men in.

The bewildered blond at the door’s name was Kaveh, the dark-haired man was Tighnari, and the white-haired man with the intense gaze was Cyno.

You familiarized yourself with their names, and from time to time you felt their eyes passing glances over at you as they made small talk. Alhaitham was currently picking out a few bottles of wine.

“So, you’re actually his wife… Ah! Of course, it’s no fault of yours. I’m just shocked he’s actually married, I thought he was bluffing when he said he had a wife. There were no signs… Ugh! Great, I owe drinks now.” Kaveh sighed, face in his hands.

“Alhaitham doesn’t want others knowing too much about him. But the proof is right in front of our eyes.” Cyno leaned his elbows on the table.

Ah, it makes sense that people at his work wouldn’t know about you. There weren’t even rings to distinguish the relationship. Usually, relationships nowadays were sensed through the presence of pheromones on the bodies of lovers. However, you were a Beta with no pheromones to cling onto his person. There’s not the slightest chance he ever talked about you. The two of you were also never seen in public together, so in the eyes of many Alhaitham is still a bachelor. There was a slight churn in your stomach, was the soup upsetting it?

“Gossiping about me while sitting in my house and right in front of my wife?”

Alhaitham’s deep voice mysteriously made the knot in your stomach go away, or maybe it was the way he referred to you, ‘my wife’. He placed the bottles of wine and glasses on the table.

“It’s nothing major. We’re just surprised someone is willing enough to stand your arrogance.” Kaveh crossed his arms.

“Unwed people should not have any comments on other’s relationships.”

“Hey! Why you-”

“Huh…” You pondered out loud.

The attention of the men in the room was all on you now.

“Oh, pardon my interruption. I guess I’m just in awe that my husband has friends.”

In an instant laughter ripped through the air.

“Bwahahaha! Alhaitham, I like your wife already! Ahahaha!” Kaveh was laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes.

Tighnari had one hand gripping the table and the other covering his mouth as he tried desperately to suppress his snickers, ultimately unsuccessfully.

“Well, I’m not sure if friends is the ‘correct’ term.” Cyno’s voice was steady, but you could see the small shakes of his shoulders.

“I’m beginning to wonder if inviting guests to the house was the right decision.”

Still, the dinner continued and the drinks started to pour. After your statement from earlier, the atmosphere at the table became more lighthearted aided by the help of alcohol.

“So, what’s the occasion?” You asked as you took a sip out of your glass.

“Huh? Alhaitham! How did you not tell your wife about your promotion?” Kaveh nearly spat out his wine.

“There’s no reason to dampen her mood with bad tidings.”

“Bad?!-” You wondered if the blond’s voice could shatter the glass in your hands.

“Keeping your cards close to your chest, even from your wife.” Cyno side-eyed your husband.

“Not at all. Not that the unwed head lawyer would need to know.”

“Tsk.” The tan Alpha crossed his arms.

“Now, now just because he didn’t tell his wife doesn’t mean Alhaitham’s a bad husband.” Tighnari tried to dispel the tension while also landing a subtle jab.

“Mmm, congratulations, Haitham.” You swirled your wine.

“Thank you.” Your husband replied.

The three Alphas looked at each other, eyes sending silent messages. They must find your marriage to the ashen-hair Alpha strange. Alpha-Beta pairings were already against convention, but it seems like the two of you matched each other's pace. Two weird people found each other.

After dinner was finished and you bid goodbye to the guests at the front door.

“Be grateful you stone-faced brat… Your wife’s got... too good to be stuck with your stale…”

The two shorter men carrying the blabbering blond off your front steps.

“He’s quite the lightweight.” You briefly mentioned while over the sink.

“I’m just grateful there’s still wine left. Go rest, I’ll get the dishes.” His larger frame takes up the space at the sink, silently encouraging you to move away.

So you left clean-up duty to him, a fair trade for making you cook a feast so out of the blue. As you stood under the warm water pouring over your body in the shower, your mind began to replay the conversations over dinner. They made you realize just how little you actually knew about your own husband despite living under the same roof for three going on four years now.

Once he stepped foot outside of your shared space he was practically a stranger. What was his job like? Who were his friends? What were his favorite places? Hell, even in your house, he was still a stranger. What books is he reading now? When does he find time to work out? What does he do when you leave the house? This realization made you shiver, as you turned the knob to increase the temperature of the water.

It wouldn’t hurt to try and get to know him a little better.

One Sunday morning, you walked into the living room greeted by the sight of him reading one of your old light novels. Seeing his large hand hold the bright book, decorated with a pair of lovers embracing, while his eyes studied the text like his academic papers was almost comical… If only you didn’t wish to sink through the floor in humiliation. He must’ve lost interest in his own books, or maybe he’d gone through his whole collection.

Either way, to prevent such an occurrence from happening again, you began to pick up some books for your husband on your way home.

‘Metaphysics’, ‘Epistemology’, ‘Quantum Mechanics’: those seemed like topics that’d interest him, you reasoned as you stood in line to purchase them. Your eyes caught sight of a certain book, ‘le rouge et le noir’, on a whim you decided to add it to the stack of heavy books. Not for your husband, but rather for yourself.

That night you handed the books over to him as he was about to go to his favorite reading spot on the couch.

“What’s this for?” He stared at the stack of thick books in your hands.

“Just passed by a bookstore and figured you might need something new to read.” You gestured for him to take them.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to gift this to me. Thank you, I shall read them.” His low voice indifferent as always, finally taking the weight out of your hands.

You proceeded to move over to the smaller sofa in the living room and plopped down. Pulling out the book you had purchased earlier, you glanced up at him eyes questioning why he was staring. Alhaitham cracked open one of the academic journals you gifted him and averted his teal gaze.

This was a break from your normal routine, but you felt like it’d be a nice change to get back into reading. It also gives you the opportunity to learn more about Alhaitham by spending more time in his presence. But more importantly, it would allow you to keep an eye on your husband to ensure he doesn’t go snooping through your bookshelf again. Maybe you should just donate them, but no library in Sumeru would ever accept them.

Soon that break from routine became the norm. Every night after the kitchen table was cleared, dishes cleaned, and bodies freshly towel dried you and Alhaitham will sit adjacent to each other enjoying quiet reading time. The soft light from the tall floor lamps and soft flicks of turning pages adding to the ambiance of the room.

From time to time, you can hear the sound of him writing some sentences down on a notepad. So he likes to take notes on the books he reads. You learned something new.

Another new fact you gained from your observations of your husband was that he reads fast, really fast. He had already finished all three books before you were even halfway done with yours. You had to act fast lest his teal eyes begin to wander towards your bookshelf again. So, you found yourself back at the bookstore once more. Picking up any thick academic journals on topics ranging from ancient ruins to the newest peer-reviewed breakthroughs.

Maybe you should also pick up some notepads and sticky notes, you saw how thin the pad had gotten last night. It just so happened that the romance section was right by the shelves of stationeries. The book from Fontaine you had bought on a whim was in your opinion more psychological than romantic. However, the romantic elements present seems to have reignited your interest in the romance genre.

Oh well, you were grown enough now to not be so easily swooned by poetic descriptions of love. You picked the first book whose description piqued your interest and added it to the basket.

One of the first lessons taught to the children of Sumeru was to be cautious when putting out campfires. If not killed correctly, the unseen smoke can make fallen leaves catch fire. A small flame grows into a hellish blaze that consumes whole acres of forest.

“Thank you very much. Again, this isn’t necessary.” Alhaitham still took the books out of your hands.

The small notepad on top of the stack caught his attention, his teal eyes looked into yours with a questioning glance.

“Your notepad’s running out, and there was a sale.”

“I see.”

From time to time during your quiet reading session, you would glance up, a part of you hoping to see Alhaitham use the new stationery you’ve just bought him. A frown tugged at your lips when you saw he had set it to the side in favor of his old, thinning notepad. Maybe the color isn’t to his liking.

You continue to buy stationeries for him. Any fancy notepads or post-its that caught your eye at a store, every time you give them to him, he would thank you. Then proceed to never use them. Perhaps, the ones you got were too fancy? He seemed to like simple and practical items. Next time you got plainer ones, just simple squares of plain paper, he still left them untouched.

Maybe, you needed to find higher-quality ones. But if he didn’t like them then why does he keep accepting them? Should you try your luck with pens instead, he does go through quite a few. Ah, the sentiment from the very first time you met him still rang true to this day. Alhaitham is a weird Alpha.

He was an enigma to you.

You were an enigma to him.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure when it started, but his mind grew curious about you. Perhaps it’s because he read through his collection of books, or maybe because things at work have been dull lately. Thus, he deduced it was only logical that you started to pique this interest in a bored mind. You lived in the same house and slept in the same bed. With you constantly being in close proximity, of course, he will want to learn more about you after more than three years together.

One of the best ways to start studying you would be to start with your bookshelf. Alhaitham vaguely remembers you saying that you were interested in books, yet in all these years in the same space he hasn’t ever seen you touch your own shelf. What a pity, he could’ve used the extra space for his own books. Running a finger along the row of books, stopping on a random one he made his decision.

Your taste in literature is, how should he put it, very different from his own preferences. The descriptions of the actions taken by the Alpha main character and his Omega lover were idiotic, to say the least. The lengthy declarations of the love and affection they held for each other, and the sentences riddled with exaggerations and rhetoric. The romance between the characters was the priority of the novel, thus the plot suffered greatly from it.

In his opinion, the book was a mess. Yet, he didn’t once feel as if he had wasted his time. Alhaitham discovered a new side to you, is this the type of novel that interests you even as a Beta? The soft taps of your feet suddenly paused as it rounded the corner into the living room. Alhaitham looked up to see a tense look on your face as you stared at the novel currently in his hands.

No words were exchanged between the two of you as you continued to stare, looking at the book then back at him. It was only for a minute at most, yet it felt a lot longer before you turned on your heels without so much as a word. It was brief, but Alhaitham thinks he saw the tips of your ears flush. Oh, did he stumble upon a guilty pleasure of yours?

His actions must have been the cause of this deviation from routine, Alhaitham concluded while staring at the stack of books presented to him. Even on birthdays and holidays, gifts weren’t regularly exchanged between the two of you, so this was certainly a surprise. You were looking at him with eyes urging him to take the heavy books from your hands. He couldn’t refuse the offer.

What came next was even more of a surprise, you sat on the usually empty sofa and pulled out a book of your own. The cover was different from the ones lining your bookshelf, the colors were much simpler, he also notes that the book comes from Fontaine. You were quiet and focused on your own novel, it didn’t cause any disruptions to his sacred reading time so he didn’t say anything about it.

Soon your curled form on the sofa became a regular sight to see. Every now and then you’d readjust your position, trying to find a comfortable way to hold your book while also relaxing. Alhaitham subconsciously scribbles down brief notes on the book he holds in his other hand. Yet this time when he looked down, he had recorded this small detail about you on the paper. He felt your eyes glancing over as he swiftly crossed out what he had just written.

A few days later you gifted him more books along with a new notepad. Now there's an unequal exchange happening. You have now gifted him many items, and he has yet to give you anything in return besides a simple ‘thanks’. What should he give you? Alhaitham pondered the question for a bit.

He realizes that he doesn’t have a firm grasp on your likes and dislikes. Should he try books? No, he’s not familiar enough with your taste in literature to confidently gift a book you’d enjoy. If there was something that you liked, you’d just buy it right then and there with no hesitation with your own money. He thought about it a bit longer.

When you came home from a particularly tiring day of work you’d often have a small take-out bag in your hands. The frown on your face would melt away the moment you pulled the padisarah pudding from the bag. Alhaitham opened his eyes, he has found the gift to give you. But from which cafe did you get that dessert?

“Oh?” You looked at the padisarah pudding currently on the kitchen table.

“It’s for you.” Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book.

“Thank you. Actually, I have something for you as well.” You began to dig through your bag.

Alhaitham glanced up to see you present him a new notepad and a stack of stick notes, the green paper embossed with gold detailing. He hasn’t even touched the first notepad you had gifted with a pen, and here you were giving him another. Now the current gift balance is even more off.

You took your first spoonful of the pudding, his teal eyes secretly peeking at your expression as you processed the flavor. You furrowed your brow slightly holding the spoon in your mouth, then shrugged your shoulder as you took another bite. Your face didn’t light up like when you ate the ones you bought.

Tsk, this means Alhaitham bought it from the wrong store. He knows he could simply just ask you which place made your favorite pudding. However, he finds the opportunity for experimentation in front of him more interesting. He wonders what faces you’ll give for each variation of the dessert.

He gained more knowledge about you, you have a sweet tooth. He already guessed from your fondness for a certain dessert, but those were a treat for once in a while. You liked fruits, often snacking on them when you were bored on your phone, or as a late-night snack when reading.

“Mmmh.” You looked down at the zaytun peach in your hand.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, placing his cup of coffee down.

“Which vendor did you get this peach from?” You looked over at him.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the quality?”

“No, I like it. It’s got the right amount of firmness and sweetness.” You took another bite.

Alhaitham made sure to only get zaytun peaches from that specific vendor.

Currently, the head secretary was facing a small dilemma. On his desk he has amassed quite a collection of stationeries. All in part thanks to you, he took some of the notepads and sticky notes to his office, your gifting habits slowed when it looked like he was using them. The ashen-haired man could not pinpoint where this sudden obsession of giving him stationeries came from.

Although, he has to admit it is quite amusing to watch the expression on your face as you watched his every time you handed over a new office item. It reminds him of a cat presenting its owner with shiny objects it had found, waiting for its human to react. But the current gift exchange ratio is still off.

His teal eyes scanned the report that had been placed on his desk earlier in the morning, there were a lot of important details between the lines on the pages. He should list down the details on a note before passing it on to the CEO. A hand reached towards the pile of post-its on his desk, courtesy of you, before it stopped.

‘It would be too much of a waste to use good quality paper for such a tedious task.’ He reasons as he used one of the subpar post-its provided by the office.

Dropping the report off at the CEO’s desk before he headed out for his lunch break. Walking to his favorite cafe, a familiar flash of color caught his eyes, a florist was selling potted pardisarahs. You did always seem to admire the colorful flowers that decorated the top of the dessert.

He stood there on the street contemplating the plant. Padisarahs are fickle flowers, needing a specific blend of soil and precisely measured amounts of water. Too much sun and the fragile petals will burn, too little and the vibrancy of its leaves fade. He concluded that he didn’t want to bestow such a hassle on you.

Returning from his lunch break to his office, Alhaitham was greeted by a great violation of his personal space. Covering his desk were stacks of new proposals and applications, those weren’t out of the ordinary. But the colorful squares plastered all over each new proposal were:

Please approve these proposals secretary Alhaitham! They are very important! ASAP

Here are the calculations of the research funds for next year, take a look at them - T

Alhaitham you better approve my application this time, the project is already delayed and I filed this paperwork twice! If you have any respect for your senior then approve this as soon as possible! - K

Head secretary, these are the new amendments to company policies. The legal team is awaiting your approval before we proceed with the implementation. - C

They used the stationeries that you had gifted him to write nonsense. They had the gall to ask him for favors after they touched his desk without permission and wasted such pretty paper.

Every proposals on his desk got thrown in the trash without so much as a glance. Nothing got approved, next time they should carefully consult his listed work hours outside the office.

He didn’t think he’d have to make a sign that said ‘do not touch the items on my desk’ to a workplace of grown adults, but he was very much contemplating it now.

Later that night, his annoyance from earlier in the day melted away once he cracked open the new book gifted to him. Your form comfortably wrapped in a light quilt as you cradled yours. The minutes turned into hours, the silence comfortable like the heat from a fireplace. A soft snap echoed through the room, your hand moving towards your face from the corner of his eye.

“Is something the matter?”

“Mm? Oh, no. The ending was just sad.” You wiped a tear from your other eye.

He learned something new about himself today, he didn’t like seeing you cry.

You really should’ve known better. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun. The glue binding the wings of maturity and sanity you’ve crafted started to melt and fall apart, causing you to plunge down. Falling back into the obsession of ‘love’. What started as just one book, turned into two, turned into four. Now your once sparsely populated shelves were crowded with new romance titles of all sorts.

“You’re rather late today.” Alhaitham’s voice made you freeze in place.

Why did the living room have to be so close to the front door, maybe you should’ve snuck back in through the back door. Sneaking back into your own house, did you revert back to a teenager while in your fourth year of marriage?

“Sorry ‘bout that, I got caught up with friends.”

That was a blatant lie, your poor friends were dragged into your mess all because you couldn’t be honest. You weren’t in their company, no, you were in the theaters watching a film alone. But how could you ever admit to him that as the Alpha and Omega lovers danced on the screen, you pictured your faces over theirs?

Alhaitham acknowledged your explanation with a small hum, never looking up from his book. Good, because you were certain if he did, he would’ve seen right through your lie.

Was your handsome husband the spark that rekindled your obsession? Or was it the stories you’ve been consuming that made your heart thump harder in his presence?

You weren’t sure which was which, but you couldn’t deny the truth you’ve buried. You were in love with Alhaitham. It was an undeniable fact. From the beginning, you’ve always liked him. His quiet demeanor, his baritone voice, and his teal-orange eyes. But now you were in love with them, every aspect of him. You hated how helpless it made you feel.

But you secretly liked how good it felt. After years of dormancy, you finally felt it, the rush described to you in those stories. That can’t sleep love, that delicious burn of pining, the itch in your chest as you laid in bed next to him. Two quilts defining the unseen boundaries of personal space, you longed to creep over it but you lacked the courage.

What does he smell like? The same shower and laundry products were shared between the two of you. But that is not what you meant. What did his pheromones smell like? Was it a cool fresh scent, cool like the minty streaks hidden through his ashen hair? Or was it deep and woodsy? Maybe he smells like the pages of an old library book.

You used to pity your Omega classmates, for you knew the stigma and inconveniences they will face in their lives. However, right now you envied them to the point of nausea. They knew what Alhaitham’s scent was, but you don’t. Why did you have to be a Beta?

The demon known as insecurity you thought you’ve left behind was actually lurking in your shadow the whole time.

Maybe you should check yourself into the Bimarstan, the fever of love feels as if it’s melting your brain. His gaze felt piercing now, his accidental skinships seared your skin. You had no one to blame but yourself, Alhaitham is not at fault, you were the one who fell into the fire as he sat in his place on the couch unaware. Even after four years you still couldn’t be honest with your own husband.

Feelings were never discussed because he believed you had a mutual understanding that this was for convenience.

You can’t tell him you wanted more. How can you tell him you wanted more? There’s already a wall four years in the making, too great to overcome.

‘I need to rein myself in’ Alhaitham thought as his eyes followed your figure through the crowd below. It was a slow Friday at work so he decided to walk away from his desk, arriving at an overpass that looked over the streets of Sumeru. Something compelled him to look below, and under the golden sun there you were, and by your side was another Alpha.

Dehya is her name, a good friend of yours that you introduced once before leaving for a birthday celebration. A good friend who had the privilege to ruffle your hair and loop an arm around your shoulders as she ushers you into one of the many stalls filled with glittering trinkets.

His hand tightened its grip on the railing, why did she have privileges he was denied? Alhaitham felt he was stalking his own wife. Idiotic really.

Skinship was not commonplace between you, an unseen glass wall defining the boundaries of your personal space. Whenever his skin met yours, you’d flinch and pull away as if you were burned. He always just apologize and the two of you would move on without another word. Hell, even if his eyes lingered on you for too long you’d tense up.

It’s been happening more often now, is it because his eyes started wandering more towards your figure or how his hand itched to hold yours?

Were you scarred by a past relationship? Were your flinches the remnants of a darker period in your life before him? His jaw clenched. By pulling a few strings he had pulled up more files of your past, to satisfy his mind’s hungry, but there was nothing. It only made his curiosity hunger more, or was it something else? Alhaitham wanted answers to why you hated his touches and stares, yet wanted to be in his presence and give him gifts.

There was only one conclusion he could come up with: you liked your personal space. And he will respect it, but why did your friends not have to?

There was now a knot in his stomach as if a beast was clawing at it, maybe he should call off work and head to the Bimarstan. He disappeared from the overpass.

–

“Haitham.” He heard your soft pounds on the door.

“Leave some hot water for me.” He could envision the pout on your lips, and that’s what brought him over the edge.

Watching with shameless eyes as the evidence of his guilt washed down the shower drain, running water masking his pants.

If he can’t touch you, that doesn’t mean he can’t think about you; words spoken like a true creep he silently chastised. Alhaitham doesn’t care to admit how long he’s been doing this, perhaps his primal urges weren’t as controlled as he believed.

It’s strange really, you’re a Beta yet you make him have these urges.

You don’t produce any pheromones to cling onto his body. But by using the same shower products as you, it serves the same purpose of scenting no? A foolish voice Alhaitham pushed from the back of his mind, taking another pump of your body wash. Maybe he should check the dosage of his inhibitors.

–

The only opportunity he got to observe you closely was when you were asleep. ‘You’re quite the heavy sleeper’, he notes as his eyes traced over the subtle curves of your cheeks, the contours of your nose, and the softness of your lips.

It’s accepted wisdom that Omegas were the most beautiful people. The top A-list singers and actors being Omegas only solidified the belief. However, Alhaitham’s confident your existence could challenge that very notion.

If it weren’t for your distinct lack of a scent, any Alpha could’ve mistaken you for an Omega. Even his guests were taken aback by how your appearance didn’t match your status as a Beta.

There was a pang in his chest. If he felt those urges when looking at you, then it’s guaranteed that others, specifically other Alphas, have felt it as well. But why? He trusted you to stay true to your convictions of loyalty and integrity… He wasn’t so sure about others though. Even with the inhibitors coursing through his system, he couldn’t seem to push down that annoying hand clawing at his back.

You stirred, huddling into your blanket more, snapping his attention back. ‘Oh, you must be cold again’. The houses in Sumeru were designed to keep hot air out, so when a northern cold front blew in, you definitely felt it.

Quietly getting up, Alhaitham pulled the spare quilt out of the closet, gently layering it over your curled form. The knit between your brows disappeared as a pleased expression overtook your face. Were you having a pleasant dream? Was he ever included? Subconsciously his hand began to reach for your face, only to freeze.

‘Personal space’ he reminds himself as he strolls out of the bedroom.

It makes no sense to him, you’re a Beta. In fact, the reason why he married you in the first place was because he believed your lack of pheromones and lack of heats won’t disrupt his peaceful life. The matchmaker had called him her biggest challenge, persevering only because of a promise made to his late grandma.

So, how were you still corrupting his thoughts like this?

He should read to calm his mind before he attempts to join you back in bed. Thoughts running laps in his head, analyzing then overanalyzing every last explanation he could come up with.

Alhaitham’s greedy hands made their way over to your bookshelf, perhaps he could sedate a bit of his curiosity as well. Pulling the Fontainian novel that marked the start of a tradition.

Under the golden glow of a lamp he flipped through the pages, it seems that your taste in literature has matured. Teal eyes skimming past a paragraph before going back to do a double take.

‘Love born in the brain is more spirited, doubtless, than true love, but it has only flashes of enthusiasm; it knows itself too well, it criticizes itself incessantly; so far from banishing thought, it is itself reared only upon a structure of thought.’

He reached an epiphany.

It looks like you’ve been careless recently. Too distracted by the task of masking your infatuation of your husband from your husband, and maintaining your independent mask to realize that Alhaitham had once again finished all his books.

The novel right in front of you, moved from its place on your shelf, was proof of that.

‘It’s a good book’

Your husband’s neat handwriting was present on the small mint post-it plastered on the front cover. It was a simple gesture yet it made your heart flutter as if you had won the achievement of a lifetime. You finally got Alhaitham to use one of the many stationeries gifted to him.

Carefully peeling the paper off the cover, then folding it to tuck it away in your pocket.

“At least it’s not another light novel this time.” You affirmed, sticking the book back into its spot.

“The mahamatra have announced a total recall of the inhibitors distributed during the past three months, with reports-”

You were lost in your own little world, contemplating just which books haven’t you bought for your husband yet. Tuning out the sounds of the bookstore playlist and TV as your eyes scanned the titles of the thick books in front of you.

Would he like Sci-Fi? Sure it’s not academic but maybe it’ll have nuggets of information in there that’d catch his interest.

The weight of the books made your bag strap dig into your shoulder, seeing the house in the distance, you picked up your pace for the home stretch. Tomorrow marks the start of a four-day public holiday, and after the crunch time your boss put you through to tie up loose ends. You needed it.

Turning the keys in the knob you entered your peaceful little safe haven.

Only to immediately feel the heaviness in the air.

Your husband should be home by now, yet the spot on the couch remained empty. His shoes were placed at the door, albeit messily. Kicking off yours as you placed the bag on the coffee table, you navigated your way through the halls.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not the comforting silence you’ve experienced for the last five years.

“Haitham?” You called out, about to turn the corner into the master bedroom.

His black button-down and slacks were thrown all over the floor, a large lump was currently huddled under your blankets on your side of the bed. ‘Oh, he must be napping’.

Two years in, Alhaitham slept shirtless again like he did before you came. Never before were you grateful that your job made you get up at ungodly 8 am, but having an extra 30 minutes to look at his godly body as he slept made mornings bearable.

Still, the air didn’t feel right and even if he was messy sometimes, your husband never just threw his clothes on the ground when the laundry basket was right in the corner. His breathing also seemed labored.

“Haitham, are you sick?” Reaching a hand into the cocoon of blankets, feeling for his temperature.

A sharp inhale was heard as his breathing stilled, his skin was burning. You moved onto a different patch of skin to confirm it. He must have a fever.

“You’re burning! I’ll get medicine and water, don’t move.” Your hand quickly retracted.

Just as your back was turned towards him, like a monster from beneath the blankets a pair of arms entrapped you.

“H-haitham?” His touch was searing you.

“W-woah?!”

In an instant, you were pinned under Alhaitham’s towering form, the soft sheets cushioning your body. The place where he once curled was twisted and balmy. Your eyes shoot up at him as he hovered above, your body stiffened. A scarlet haze offset the brilliant teal hue you’ve grown so infatuated with, a sense of impending danger ran down your neck.

He doesn’t have a fever, he’s in a rut.

Your thoughts were running wild, bouncing around in your skull as his labored breathing above continued. In all five years, you’ve never seen Alhaitham go into a rut, he was always diligent with his inhibitors. You’ve never been around an Alpha in rut, after all, you were never the one to trigger it.

It’s embarrassing really, you had no idea what to do, all your experience with ruts came from those steamy light novels.

“H-haitham, let me up, I’ll get your inhibitors...” You tried to tug your wrists from his grasp.

Big mistake. His grip tightened as he buried his face into the side of your neck, a low rumble was felt from his chest. Alhaitham had his nose right up against your neck, taking deep inhales as if he was trying to detect something.

You shivered as your body temperature shot up, you’ve never been this close to him, the brushes of his ashen locks against your neck made your legs rub together.

“Hey…” You moved your neck away, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

“Stay still.” A baritone voice vibrated against you.

On command your body stilled, muscles refusing to move as Alhaitham continued his search. His breath was against your ear, tickling it as he took deep inhales of your hair. A low groan was heard as if he was frustrated with something.

“Not enough.”

“Huh?-”

The sound your blouse getting torn off your body resonated through the air. Even will a layer of clothing gone, your body felt hotter. Just as you began to process the loss of your favorite blouse, another rip rang in your ears. Your skirt was now gone as well. You were so vulnerable under his touches.

Dragging his nose down from your neck, over your covered breasts, then along your belly. His hands now gripped your thighs as he shifts down to part them effortlessly, eyes focused on your covered cunt.

Your mind was groggy, reactions dulled, why was the room so hot? Suddenly you felt his nose against your cunt, taking long whiffs of the slick that was beginning to wet the fabric of your panties. That was enough to spark action from you.

“H-hey!” Your hands pushed against his messy locks as your thighs tried to preserve your dignity.

“Ah!” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your mouth.

In protest of your attempt to shut him out of heaven, Alhaitham bit into the soft flesh of your thigh. Hazy eyes looking straight into yours, warning you to not do it again. His intense gaze made something deep in your cunt pulse.

Sharp teeth released soft skin as his attention was back on the honeypot in front of him. Your panties offered as much resistance as wet paper against his swift tug, the fabric now on the floor in pieces.

Your cunt twitched with each hot breath that hit against its wet lips. With the thin barrier gone, Alhaitham can now freely bury his nose against your honeypot, tingles ran up his spine as the sweet musk of your slick sent his olfactory system into chaos. His throat felt parched as if he had just trekked the desert, he needed a taste.

“Ah! Ahhh,” your back arched as his hot tongue lapped against your cunt.

Alhaitham was slurping up your slick like a depraved beast, wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit, occasionally dipping into the contracting hole. Your whole body shook when the smoothness of his tongue ran across your clit, toes curling in the air.

The shower head couldn’t bring out this level of pleasure. The fantasies you envisioned during your long showers couldn’t compare to the scene happening right now. His ministration continued, each stroke of his tongue sending blinding waves of pleasure.

His hips were angrily rutting against the sheets, erection rubbing against the fabric impatiently. But he had to taste you more, his mind hazy as it craved nothing more than your taste. It was his first taste, but he was already addicted. Your legs tensed up in his grip as a loud whine left your lips, your body shaking as a sudden rush of slick was welcomed onto his awaiting tongue.

Your sensitive body tried to flinch away as he continued to lap against your swollen lips and clit but his iron grip on your legs didn’t let you budge an inch. Eyes rolled back as the sweet torture continued.

Your body convulsed, did you just cum again? Two orgasms sapped you of all strength, everything fell limp as your moans continued to fill the room. Your mind too foggy to even process the feeling of embarrassment. It felt so good, yet it was torturing, your cunt was sobbing for something else.

As if taking mercy on your desperation, or maybe his desperation had reached its limit, Alhaitham pulled away. Teary eyes followed his motion, watching as he aligned his length with your greed.

You’ve seen him walk out of the shower in just a towel, how did he hide this behind a puny towel?

Your cunt’s eagerness blocked any hesitation from reaching your brain as his length dragged itself against your soaked lips. The pillow behind your head was not enough, you needed something more solid to hold onto, to ground the last shred of your sanity.

Shaky hands released the plush pillows, outstretched towards Alhaitham’s immense frame. A growl ripped through his chest as he dove into your arms at the same time as his length thrusted fully inside you.

“OH!” Your fingers left deep stretches along his shoulder blades.

His pants and soft growls vibrated against your neck as your eyes rolled back again, the fullness you’d been craving has been fulfilled. The stretch burned in all the right ways as your walls clung onto his member, thick and hard. Soft legs locked around a solid torso, your body pressed against his as his frame pinned yours to the bed. Just as you were adjusting to feeling of his length inside, his hips began moving.

They were merciless, slapping against your hips and ass as the force made your whole body bounce. His length punishes your walls as it pulled out to just the tip only to be slammed back in at full strength. You clung to his muscular body for dear life, breasts bouncing out of their home in your bra.

Nonsense was spilling out of your mouth as your brain malfunctioned from the blinding flashes of pleasure. The slick slaps of your cunt eagerly welcoming his every move and the headboard of the bed knocking against the wall complimented each other.

Alhaitham’s pants were growing heavier, growls deeper as his tongue began to trace up and down your neck. The sensation along with his thick tip bullying your poor sweet spot pushed you over the edge for the third time. Walls clamping down to milk him as your legs squeezed him, the pleasure was toeing the edge of pain, much like how your brain was on the verge of madness.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, heavy balls slapping against your swollen lips.

As the high was beginning to wear off, his pace became impossibly fast, the solid wood headboard now banging against the poor wall. Your bodies rocking together on the bed, he buried his face deeper into your neck. His teeth danced along your shoulder as your moans sang in his ears. He wanted to hear more of it.

Alhaitham’s hips slammed against yours one final time before they stilled, teeth digging into your shoulder to suppress a moan, burying his length deep inside your cunt as his thick seed spilled.

Your greed drank all of it up gratefully as your shoulder stung.

Your chest was raising and falling fast, lungs trying to hog all the air that it could hold. Heart pounding hard in your ears. Tears and drool wet your face as your head fell weakly to the side on the soft pillow. You were completely spent as your arms didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him. Limbs limp and nerves fried.

Above you Alhaitham continued to pant into your shoulder, length still buried inside.

After a couple more harsh pants and deep breaths, you felt him stir, pushing against the bed to unpin you from his frame.

“Ah-hh ahh~” You felt your walls clench once more around his length as he pulled out, a thick string of mixed slick connected his tip to your hole.

Your body longed for rest as you turned onto your stomach, face pressed against the pillow, still panting heavily as your eyes closed.

Two large hands grasped firmly onto your hips, startling your consciousness back as you looked over your shoulder.

Alhaitham still had that scarlet haze in his eyes as he lifted your hips up, watching as more mixed fluids began to tickle out of your abused hole. Your eyes shifted down and you gulped, he was still erect.

You were quite foolish to believe that one round was enough to satisfy an Alpha in rut. However, if it weren’t for his firm grasp on your hips, your body would’ve collapsed back into the sheets.

A loud whine left your throat, vocalizing your exhaustion to him. It’s been a long time since you got any action, the two of you didn’t even consummate on the wedding night, it was spent packing your stuff.

You tried to shift your hips out of his grip but he only held on tighter, earning another whine.

Soft kisses were pressed against your back as if he was trying to soothe you. It was pathetic how weak you were to them, instantly melting against the pillow. Maybe you can last one more round you thought as his length rubbed against your slit again.

Thanks to the extra prep and lubrication from the last round your walls were much more accustomed to the stretch as Alhaitham entered once more. His beginning thrusts were much more slowed and controlled than before as you moaned softly into the pillow.

This couldn’t last sadly, as his lust overtook him again and his hips once again slammed into you, forcing a choked moan from you. Using his hands, he held your body up as he pulled all the way out until the tip then cruelly forced it all back into you.

You wanted to beg him to rest, but you also wanted to beg for more. Your sloppy cunt accepted all his punishing movements with gratitude as the wet walls thanked his length with kiss-like contractions.

Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, mind absolutely blank, the pleasure must’ve melted your brain. All you could do was grip the tear-soaked pillow and let out moan after moan, the poor wall still getting beaten by the movement of the headboard. Tension building up once more in you.

Somewhere along the lines, you felt his teeth graze against your nape as his thrust picked up the pace once more, a sign that he was close to finishing. He was panting against the back of your neck as if he was searching for something. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips, he bites deeply into your nape as he releases a fresh batch of seed.

“Why?”

You felt the frustrated growls against your skin as he bites again at a different angle. The pleasureful pain seems to have jump started your brain for just a second.

‘Oh, he’s trying to bond.’ You felt Alhaitham’s soft locks brush against your shoulders as he continued his fruitless search.

You were once reminded that you were just a Beta, unable to form a bond. He could bite your neck as many times as he wanted. His teeth can pierce the flesh until the skin was raw, but it would be all for naught. He’ll never get that satisfaction. You don’t have the glands to be bitten, to be marked, to be bonded with.

You weren’t an Omega. There was now a heavy knot in your chest.

–

You weren’t even sure what day it was, all you can recall is the hazy cycle of intense lust followed by a lull before the next round. During the lull, you did your damnedest to keep yourself and him hydrated, often having to lure him into the kitchen for some much-needed water and quick snacks.

The air of the house was thick with the musk of sweat and desire, very nerve of yours fried from pleasure.

Once again your body was pinned under his, legs thrown over his shoulders as his hips desperately snapped against yours.

Every article of clothing has long since been removed, allowing your breasts to bounce along with every thrust. By now you were certain the shape of him was pounded into your cunt. The soaked sheets below clutched in your hands as if to ground you from floating up to cloud nine.

The harsh pants and low growls above you increased in frequency in time with his thrusts. He must be close again.

Fortunately, you’ve noticed that the breaks between each round have been getting longer and longer. A sign that the rut was ending. If you survive this you’ll bring offers to the sanctuary of surasthana to thank the archons for their blessing. Maybe after the feeling returns back to your legs of course.

Suddenly your face was pushed into the side of his neck, the scent of sweat now stronger.

“Bite.” His rugged voice commanded.

Ah… he wanted you to mark him. With clumsy teeth, you felt around the smooth muscles. You can’t sense where his glands were so you just bit down at random along his neck. It was useless, you knew it, but still...

Alhaitham pushed himself eagerly against your teeth, encouraging you to bite harder with a growl. You obliged.

His teeth ran along your raw neck, already covered in his bites and hickeys, searching for one last spot. Your jaw clamped down harder as his teeth sank into your neck one last time. Hips stilling as one final wave flooded into you, it was hard to tell when one orgasm ended and another began.

Your hands found purchase around his back again, holding him close as you panted against his neck. Against yours a frustrated growl vibrated once more, his muddled mind confused as to why no bond has formed.

“Why?”

There was that cold pierce of pain again.

The large hand on the back of your head held your nose close against his searing skin. It could’ve just been your fried nerves, but as the darkness overtook your vision, you could’ve sworn there was a warm and opulent scent of wood and books.

If you were reborn, in the next life could you recognize his scent?

Your eyes opened up to blinding sunlight. Your body ached as if it had been through hell and back, bones threatening to turn into dust at any second. The large bed messy and only occupied by one body. Shifting your sight away from the stinging light, his empty pillow came into view.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but even as your muscles screamed you pressed your nose into the cold pillow and inhaled. Nothing. Just sweat and disappointment.

Just what were you hoping for? That a few nights of passion would birth a miracle? That you’d somehow turn into something you couldn’t be? In the end, you were still you. Those novels must’ve rotted your common sense, stupid.

Bitter tears fell onto the pillow, you didn’t have the strength to hold back the sobs as they wrecked through your body.

Yes, you were stupid. So stupid from the very start to believe that this could work. That maybe after a few more years, maybe at the seven-year mark, he could fall in love with you as well.

The dream of his tender eyes looking into yours with love crumbled right there in front of you.

A cup clanged onto the desk in the room as footsteps quickly made their way to your side, a blurred figure knelt down.

“Is your body hurting anywhere? I’ll take you to the Bimarstan.” Alhaitham gently sat your covered figure up, trying to see the extent of the situation.

Your small hands pushed against his solid frame, his motion stilled as you refused to allow him to see your face.

However, Alhaitham knows he didn’t have the right to. Not only did he invade your sacred personal space, but he did so like a wild beast. Not allowing your body to rest or replenish itself as he trapped you to the bed for almost four days. He deduced that you must be hurting, that you must be scared of him now, and that must be the reason behind your tears.

Guilt was suffocating him. Those stupid urges, that stupid rut. His stupid hands refusing to let you go.

Throughout your whole marriage, you had put on the mask of independence, someone who did not need to lean on a husband for comfort. Yet here you were, bawling out your eyes in front of him like a child. Your façade has been cracked, tears soaking into his pillow and snot trickling down under his unwavering gaze.

What was the look on his face right now? You couldn’t see through the mirage of tears blurring your sight, not that you had the courage to face him. Was it disappointment? Right now as he observed your vulnerable figure, did he feel lied to after all these years? Like he had just discovered the defects in a product?

The freezing water of self-loathing, doubt, and insecurity filled you like a boat whose haul had been pierced by the jagged edges of an iceberg. You were drowning, your limbs kicking and thrashing with all their might trying to resurface.

For a brief moment, your face bobbed above the crashing waves.

“Let's get a divorce.”

Those were the only words you managed to choke out in the space between your sobs before your head disappeared under the murky waters once more.

His whole body froze as he processed your words. Alhaitham had already deduced why you wanted to end this relationship, he had hurt and scarred you. Yet, like a child, he still wanted to clamber for more answers.

“Why?” He said through clenched teeth, you couldn’t see it but his hands had a slight shake.

“We’re not satisfied, Alhaitham. I-it’s not working, I-i can’t satisfy your requirements. I-i can’t make you happy, I-i can’t make you love… me.” Hiccups breaking up your sentences.

That was it, you spilled out all your secrets. Your lungs and throat hurting as if you just pushed salt water out of them.

Alhaitham’s hands were balled up so tightly his nails broke the skin on his palms.

So, you weren’t happy. He couldn’t make you happy. He felt as if he had dropped down to the tier of a fool. A fool who didn’t know how to make those bitter tears of yours stop.

He released you.

You felt his presence disappear from your side. The touch of warmth he provides was now gone as coldness fully engulfs your whole being. The tears just wouldn’t stop. Is this what those heartbroken sobs actually felt like? Why did you ever think this was something to be desired? You truly were an idiot.

You weren’t sure how long had passed, a few seconds or a few minutes, but his presence returned back to your side. He looked as if he had something in his hands. Were they divorce papers? Ah, Alhaitham was a man who always had a plan for everything. Did he have a premonition that this marriage was doomed from the start? How long has he had them?

Alhaitham didn’t feel like he had the right to touch you. However, he needed to do something to make you look at him. Please, just look at him. His large hands tenderly grasped yours as if they were made from glass. You still hid your face from him.

“I won’t bind you to a life that brings you unhappiness. But.. You have to tell me” His voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it.

“If you want strolls through the market, tell me. If you want to be woken up with sweet whispers, tell me. If you want to hold hands across a date night table, then tell me. You have to tell me what will make you happy.” He wasn’t sure if those were your unfulfilled desires or his.

You could only tighten your grip on his hands as you sobbed harder.

Your statement from before was incorrect. Alhaitham is also at fault for this pain you were going through. If there was one feeling that was just as addictive as love, it would be hope. Please, please don’t give false hope.

“I-i’ll disrupt your-r life…” You managed to choke out.

His thumb gently stroke the back of your knuckles.

“How could you ever disrupt something you’re a part of?”

Your hesitant eyes finally met his teal gaze, his eyes soft as opposed to their usual stonewall stare. With the walls down, you were given a glimpse into the whirling emotions behind them. Endearment, sincerity, and hurt danced along the green-blue irises.

“As for your last reason, here. I should’ve just given this to you directly.” His hands let go of yours, picking up the item he had brought.

He handed over the book you had placed back on your bookshelf a few days earlier, the one he had left his note on. So, he didn’t have divorce papers prepared? Your trembling hands accepted it, and through your teary eyes, you finally noticed the torn-out green and gold note contrasting between the cream pages.

Tenderly, you unfolded the piece of paper retrieved from the book. Quickly blinking to clear your eyes from excess tears. In the neat script of Alhaitham’s handwriting:

‘Love born in the heart as opposed to Love born in the brain:

When one loves at first sight or goes looking for love, then one is essentially just attracted to someone for the sake of being with someone. Not looking objectively at any warning signs or relationship flaws one has with someone. If there are any issues, the bias of infatuation blinds you to them.

So that's loving with the heart, based solely on carefree addictive emotion, even though it feels stronger and more enthusiastic on the surface.

Love from the brain is more logical and objective. You take the time to understand a person, seeing them for them with unbiased eyes. You understand them thoroughly and can maturely and objectively work through the turbulence of life together. Individuals who set aside precious time to manually repair creaks, maintaining the structural integrity of a home that shelters their affections.

With the diligence of a conservator preserving ancient scripts on papyrus that should have been disintegrated long ago.

The latter rather than the former describes the bond forged between my wife and I.’

Your grip crumpled the side of the paper.

“What does this mean?” Hesitation in your voice as tears blurred your vision of his teal eyes.

“I love you.” He confessed. Three words have been overdue for years.

‘Don’t be filled with false hope’ Your mind echoed.

“I’m not an Omega…”

“That’s not a requirement for love.”

That was it. It was as if you’ve been waiting all this time for him to say those words. The words of affirmation you didn’t know you needed. The key to free you from the cage of insecurity you’ve built for yourself.

Your feet now touched the warm sandy bottom as air rushed back into your lungs.

It looks like you’ve figured it out. Regardless of what definition of love has been pushed by external forces, these feelings he holds for you are objectively pure and true love. His hands tenderly took yours away from its grip on the paper. If you wanted him to, Alhaitham will spend the rest of his life proving it to you. He’ll conduct every experiment and collect all the data points to present to you.

How silly, a red thread spun by two pairs of hands, created through undying trust, respect, and admiration had already tied the two of you in a bond. The love you were trying so hard for had always been right in front of you for five years.

The blanket draped behind your head resembled a wedding veil as the fabric folded and gathered around your trembling body. ‘Beautiful’ He thought.

The room was a mess, sheets and clothes strewn all across the floor. The musk of lust still hung heavy in the air, the residue of sweat and other fluids still clinging to skin. Your hair was all over the place, tears still pouring from your eyes, his hair was no better. But in this moment, there was nothing more Alhaitham wanted to do than this:

“Will you take me, Alhaitham, as your lawfully married husband? To love me through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain?”

Sobs were still wracking through your body, words unable to form in your mouth but you were nodding your head enthusiastically. Your hands felt small firmly holding onto his larger ones.

“I, Alhaitham, will take you as my lawfully married wife. I will love you through sickness and health, through poverty and wealth, and through sun and rain… I do.”

It was a silly sight to behold, but in this moment as he finally sees a smile break out on your face, it means the world to him.

There’s a saying from a well-known poet from Fontaine it goes as follows:

‘Love is being stupid together.’

And clearly, the two of you have been very stupid. Oh so stupidly in love.

Fin~

Authors note:

The long quote was taken from Stendhal’s The Red and The Black

The last quote is from Paul Valery

Also communication is v important to any relationship, people can’t read minds Alhaitham. If you made it this far, thank you and hope you enjoyed!

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

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adubsar · 9 months

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Trade in ancient Assyria: What was the name of the place of trade?

This video is about the Akkadian word related to the place of business.

The land of Assyria was located in a dry area and was not suitable for agriculture, but it was located in a suitable area geographically and it made it possible to be a bridge between Mesopotamia and Anatolia so that the merchants of different lands could take their goods to other lands.

What does the name Ashurbanipal mean? (Video)

The oldest name for the city of Assyria (Video)

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History of Assyrian empire’s kings: Kings who lived in tents (Video)

Who is the first builder of the temple of the god of Ashur (Video)

Follow my YouTube channel. Silent tablets documentary, short videos from ancient history.

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lipglossanon · 1 year

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Got No Human Grace

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

Las Plagas!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

it’s finally here 😬

Anon asked: Leon coming back form a mission but he’s still infected knowing its the last of its kind it sort of takes over to breed with the reader

I’m unsure of this one! 😅 I hope it makes sense; I tried something a little different to sort of convey Leon changing. Let me know what you think!! 💜 las plagas!Leon came out more of a soft boi than the intense version I was aiming for 🤔

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, infected Leon, body alterations, biting, marking, scenting, masturbation, dirty talk/thoughts, breeding kink times ten, big dick Leon supremacy, unprotected sex, creampie, monster fucking kink

Kinda looked over so sorry about mistakes lmao

Title from Eyes Without A Face by Bill Idol 😌

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

Leon ached from head to toe, muscles he didn’t even know existed making his body scream out in pain and exhaustion. He dropped Ashley off at the rendezvous point days ago and he’s just now getting home. After flying nonstop for hours on end, he just wants to take a shower and collapse into bed.

Unlocking his door, he pauses at the threshold, head cocked and listening. His chest aches, a prickly sting beginning to irritate him before it sweeps from his chest up to his head making his eyes water. He doesn’t hear or sense anything so he slowly relaxes, entering his house and shutting the door.

A small sound off to the side has him reacting without even thinking. His knife is embedded in the roach, pinning the insect to the base board, feet away from him, before Leon even realizes he has moved. He shakes his head as he walks over to the dead bug, pulling his knife out with a frown.

He’s definitely more on edge than he thought, grimacing at the gross slime on his blade. Tossing it down on the rug as he passes the living room (making a mental note to clean it later), he makes his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Taking one of the fastest showers in recorded history, Leon barely tugs on a pair of clean briefs before he’s collapsing into bed and passing the fuck out for sixteen hours of dead-to-the-world sleep.

He’s dreaming he thinks. He must be.

He’s sinking

down..

Landing on something soft.

Silky.

Warm.

His chest feels likes it’s blooming open.

Like an exotic flower.

a Venus fly trap

Silky warmth like a cocoon envelops his thoughts making them cotton soft. He luxuriates in the softness, rubbing himself against it like a cat in heat. He feels his cock stiffen as the softness keeps pressing in all around him.

His chest cracks open more, heat blooming outward as he pants in the dark, rutting against the soft feeling encompassing his body. God, it feels so good. So nice. He hasn’t felt this comforted in ages. He wants more.

He’s sinking down again, a soft suction pulling him further into the warm dark silk, wrapping him tighter in its embrace.

Down

..until..

settling on the

b o t t o m

His chest feels fully cracked open. Heat and want pooling out like tendrils in the breeze. Long, writhing tentacles reaching for Leon. Touching, caressing, stroking.

He frowns in the dark, the warm slick feeling of a

cracked open head the insides spilling out the lovely red making him excitedthrobbingneedy

a wet tendril curling around his thoughts along with his body coaxing him back into that silky bliss. The tendrils wrap around his cock drawing his attention back to that wanton feeling, still hard and dripping from earlier.

A sliver of thought seeps into the warm gooey heat of his brain. He needs to cum. Needs it desperately. What he wouldn’t give to bury himself in some warm body, let them work him over til he’s spilling inside, gifting them with his seed, sharing his bloodline so he’s not the last.

That draws him up short, brain sludgy as the slick tentacles stroke his dick, teasing across his balls. Bloodline? He thinks dizzily, cock weeping precum as he writhes against the slow hand job he’s getting from the tendrils wrapped around him.

He whines as the motion picks up, making him fuck into the slick tunnel surrounding his dick. He needs to cum so bad. Fill up some pretty girl. Ohhh like that neighbor next door. Leon’s cock kicks and drools more precum thinking of you.

You’re so pretty and sweet. You don’t know each other that well but Leon’s eager to change that. He’s rocking his hips even faster, picturing your shy smile the last time you ran into him followed by the thought of how pretty your cunt will be when he fucks you.

With a low groan, he’s cumming all over the slick tentacles as they stroke his cock. His balls draw up as the tendrils milk him for every drop of cum in his body. As soon as it teeters on too much, they slip away leaving Leon to bask in his pleasurable silence. Something snaps into place in his mind and

¡₲ⱠØⱤł₳₴ Ⱡ₳₴ ₱Ⱡ₳₲₳₴!

wakes

His mind feels slow, disoriented, not even sure where he’s at, as he raises up from his tangled sheets. His boxers are soaked, sticking to his half hard cock as he shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. His lip curls in disgust. He must’ve had a pretty damn good dream to make such a mess.

An image of you zings in his brain making his cock chub up in his briefs.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, leaning back on his palms as his dick quickly thickens, pressing obscenely against his underwear.

He slips the band down to press underneath his balls, cock slapping against his stomach and dripping cum everywhere.

He lays completely flat against his bed, reaching down to run his fingers across the tip before gently tugging the foreskin down to swipe a thumb over his slit.

He pants as he tugs on his cock, letting himself relax into the sheets and spreading his thighs. He’s so sensitive that it leaves him groaning loudly as he grips himself tightly to hump his hips into his fist.

Wonder if you’re home, he thinks sluggishly, hand picking up speed. He’d love to see you today, maybe see if you want to get dinner. Maybe even see if you’d like to come back here and let him take you apart over his sheets.

He moans and pumps himself harder, precum dripping over his knuckles making it sound wet as he beats off. He thinks of you begging for him, begging to breed your cute pussy, please Leon just give it to me I need it please Leon please need you to cream my pussy til it takes knock me up need you—

He’s growling out a moan as he cums all over his fist and twitching abs. It seems never ending as spurt after hot spurt of jizz spills across his fingers to drip down his balls. Once he’s completely spent, he heaves a sigh trying to regulate his heartbeat.

He slowly sits up, mindful to not make any more of a mess. Slipping his briefs off, he haphazardly wipes what cum he can on them then tosses them in the hamper. He heads to the bathroom to take another quick shower which ends up being a long one as he jerks off again to thoughts of you.

As he spills his cum down the drain, he groans in frustration at feeling like a teenager all over again. It’s kind of insane how horny he feels and how it seems to be all centered around you. Maybe he just needs to shoot his shot and see if he can get you in his bed. Worry about semantics later.

Feeling more settled, he finally finishes his shower and gets dressed. He knows you’re off today since it’s the weekend so he’s just going to bide his time until he can bump into you this afternoon. You always go out for a quick stroll around the block, not that he’s memorized it by now, but you seem to be a creature of habit.

And Leon is right. As soon as he settles on his porch steps, just starting to enjoy the sunny day, he sees you out of the corner of his eye. You’re heading back to your house from the end of the street so you’ll have to pass by him.

He watches you under his lashes until you slow your pace down right outside his house.

“Leon! Hi, did you get back last night!”

He looks up and sees you shuffling your feet next to the pathway up to his front porch. His eyes drift from your tennis shoes up to your bare legs (wrapped around his waist, over his shoulders, thighs pressed—) to your shorts and simple t-shirt, up to your neck (so empty and bare) and finally your face. You’re smiling at him but it’s slowly morphing into concern until he smiles at you in return making you smile even brighter.

He wants to sink his teeth into you and never let go, wants to pin you down and make you cry on his cock, begging for him to breed your needy pussy, he wants—

“Sorry, I’m a little tired today,” he laughs, standing up to walk toward you.

“Oh no worries, if I’m bothering you I can—“

“No,” his words rush out, “no bother, I was actually hoping to see you.”

He pauses an arms length in front of you, realizing how much smaller you are compared to him. It sparks another wave of want, knowing he could manhandle you how he wants.

While distracted, your hand moves up to his jaw but holds just shy of touching him, a question hovering around your eyes that makes him smile at you again.

“You seem tired,” you drop your hand back down, concern making your brows pinch, “your eyes looked..”

He watches as you search his face again but then rub your neck, a sheepish grin ticking your lips up.

“Nevermind, must’ve been a trick of the light or a shadow or something,” you sigh and roll your neck, “heck maybe I’m just too tired.”

His eyes catalogue everything about you, his chest feeling tight,

breed her pretty perfect the perfect mate to fill over and over breed her mate her mark her sink teeth deep spill hot red blood-

making him rub a hand over the center until the ache slips away into nothing.

“Uh, so I was wondering if you were free tonight?” he grins at you, flirty and sweet, “nothing fancy, I was just going to order out and we could watch a movie?”

You duck your head but Leon can see the smile on your face making the plagasbutterflies in his chest flutter.

“Sure,” you look back up at him, hands clasped in front of you, “would seven tonight be okay?”

“Perfect,” his smile widens, making his cheeks hurt, “any kinda food you prefer? Any allergies?”

You giggle and touch his arm, “I’m good with whatever and luckily no allergies.“

“Good, that’s good.”

perfect perfect mate good strong genetics breeding compatible

“I’ll see you tonight then!”

He waves as you walk the half block down to your house and watches as you slip inside your home. Once he can’t see you anymore, he goes back inside and cleans. He needs to look presentable. He grabs his knife from last night and cleans it thoroughly before slipping it into his bedside drawer. Then, he goes over the entire house making sure it’s suitable for a mate date.

Once that’s finished, he orders pizza. It’s nothing fancy, like promised, just something quick and easy. The doorbell rings just as he finishes changing into something more appealing. He knows you’re on the other side of the door, can sense it; his chest tingles when he pulls open the door and sees you standing there, soft and pretty just for him.

You smile and hold up a Tupperware box.

“Thought I’d make cookies,” he takes the box from you, gesturing for you to come inside.

“Thank you,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, the warm fluttery feeling in his chest coming back full force.

“It’s no problem,” you wring your hands, head ducked down shyly, “thank you for inviting me over.”

Leon steps up to gently take your elbow, guiding you into his living room. The pizza sits on the coffee table surrounded by plates and napkins. He has you sit down on the couch, skirt hem rucking up as you shift to get comfortable.

His eyes catalog everything about you an incessant need to memorize itching inside of him. Setting the cookies down onto the table, he sits next to you, knees nearly touching.

“I’m glad you came,” his voice is low and quiet.

A shy smile steals over your face, “I’m glad I did too.”

Your mouth opens then closes before you set your shoulders determinedly and speak, “I’ve been meaning to ask you out for awhile but I’ve just chickened out every time.”

“Really?”

You nod with a grin. Suddenly, a sharp stinging pain lances through his chest. His wince doesn’t go unnoticed and your hand reaches out to rest on his knee. The sting ramps up into a searing burn.

“Leon, are you okay?”

He tries to nod, but the pain expands out through his chest cavity and rushes up his neck to his head. Standing up quickly, he lurches toward the bathroom.

“J-just a headache,” he finally gasps out, a pulsing wave of pain filling his mouth so quick that it makes his teeth ache.

His legs buckle, knees coming down hard onto the floor but he doesn’t even feel it as the molten lava flow of pain races down his arms.

“Leon?” he hears your fear laced tone as your hand touches his shoulder, “oh my god, Leon—“

He can taste your confusion on his tongue with hints of fear and curiosity as he folds in on himself, trying to push the pain away. A sharp stinging rip stretches across his mouth, a poor facsimile of a jokers grin. Sharp tipped claws replace his hands, black inky skin stretching up from his fingertips to slowly fade back into his regular tan colored skin except for the black veins racing up his arm to disappear under his shirt.

He senses that you’re now kneeling in front of him, can hear your heart rabbiting in your chest to see him so changed.

“Leon, should I call someone?”

“No,” he finally gasps, head coming up making you flinch at what you see.

He knows how scared you are, hates that you’re so afraid of him but it doesn’t stop him from reaching out. You hesitate but take his hand, being mindful to miss the sharp edged claw tips.

“This isn’t what I’d consider first date material,” you try to joke, but tears bead your eye line.

Warmth blooms in his chest but this time it’s a welcome reprieve compared to the hot overflow of pain that changed him.

“I’d have to agree, third date for sure,” he tries to smile but his mouth is too wide now, new teeth pressing in making his tongue stumble.

Your hand squeezes his, heart rate increasing as you really take in his face.

“Is it bad?” he whispers.

Your mouth trembles but your eyes are firm, “Not really, kinda looks like Halloween makeup.”

He snorts at that making you laugh softly.

“How do you feel?”

His brows pinch together.

“It feels like there’s an undercurrent of thought,” he goes to tap his temple but sees the claw out of the corner of his eye so drops his hand back down, “like a second thought process.”

“What’s it thinking?”

Frowning at him, you shuffle closer and his eyes catch the motion of your skirt. Hunger like he’s never had before shoots through his body like an electric current.

breed her fill her up mark her claim her bite her mate her

He sways toward you, mouth salivating.

“Leon?”

“I’ll scare you off,” he finally mutters pulling himself together, pressing that other voice away.

“I think we’re well past that,” you tease, “just tell me.”

His chest flutters, giddiness from letting it sink in that you’re really still here, that you didn’t run.

perfect mate perfect breeder mark her claim her

“Fuck, okay, I’ll—,” he lets his head slump forward into your neck.

He feels as you tense under him but slowly relax as he just breathes you in; you tense again when his clawed hands wrap around your waist as he snuffles into your neck harder.

“Wanna mate you,” he whispers into your skin, being careful to not catch his teeth, “wanna keep you. Breed you again and again. Keep you stuffed with my cock. Perfect, never had someone so lovely before.”

He presses his lips to your pulse, tasting your fear with hints of arousal.

“Mark your pretty neck, bury myself between your thighs and fuck your pussy,” he rumbles, tongue lapping at your neck, hands tightening around your waist, “need to make you my breeder, mate you permanently.”

He scrapes his newly formed fangs against your skin, “Been so lonely, for so long, never found a mate til now. Gonna keep you all to myself. Never let you go.”

That undercurrent of thought Leon spoke of feels like it’s finally waking up inside of him, parasitically merging with his higher thoughts. The fluttering in his chest that had fallen into the background finally sinks into him, completing its final stage of amalgamation.

“Mine, all mine,” he promises, both lines of thought syncing together and making his tenor sound strange.

“Leon,” you whimper, hands shakily reaching up to his hair to tug him away from your neck.

He blinks at you almost sleepily, reminiscent of a feline. Tugging one of your hands from his hair, he presses a kiss to the palm as well as he can with teeth crowding his mouth.

“My pretty girl,” he coos at you, tugging you closer until you have to straddle his thigh or lose your balance and fall into his chest.

Leon noses along your hairline and chuffs happily, “Perfect, smell so good, want you so bad.”

His nose trails down your jaw, tongue licking your skin, “Can I have you? Please? Need you so much.”

You shiver in his arms and he knows that you’re slowly conceding, can feel your arousal ramping up with his soft touches.

“My mate is so pretty,” he purrs in your ear, tongue flicking the shell making you gasp quietly, “so pretty and so perfect. Wanna fill you up with my seed, show you how bad I want you.”

“Leon,” you whimper, rocking your hips down on his thigh.

The motion has him trilling in the back of his throat, nosing your jaw to lick across your cheek and lips.

“Perfect mate to breed,” he rumbles, “keep you pinned on my cock so I can fill that perfect pussy.”

Your hands are tangled in his hair, using it as an anchor so you can rock down on him. He can feel your damp panties and smell how much you like this.

“Can I?” he’s murmuring in your ear again, “can I fuck your pretty pussy? Please?” he sighs and nuzzles your hair, “need to breed my mate’s perfect little pussy.”

A whispering moan slips past your lips.

“Yes, Leon.”

◥✥◤

It’s a literal blur from the living room to Leon’s bed. He must’ve picked you up and carried you here, but it seems like between one blink to the next you’re in a new space.

You don’t really get much of a chance to take in the new setting as Leon crowds into your personal space, blue eyes wide and contemplating.

“Okay?”

You smile up at this wildly different man, if he’s even still considered one, and stroke his cheek. His eyes droop and he purrs at the motion.

“I’m okay, Leon. Can I just touch you for now?”

He nods eagerly. You run your fingers from his black clawed hands up the inky black stain, to his toned forearms where it fades back into peach colored skin. You trace the black veins that travel up his biceps. He stays still, watching you the entire time, eyes never blinking.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you ask shyly, feeling hot all over at thinking of where this is all headed, clit pulsing with excitement.

Leon quickly takes his shirt off and then without prompting, slips his jeans and boxers off. You bite your lip to stifle the noise that almost escaped. Those inky black veins cover his entire torso before slowly disappearing down his abs to his dick. His thighs are normal but the dark veins picks up near the bend of his knee and you can only assume travel down the length of his legs.

Your eyes can’t help but focus on his dripping cock. It’s flushed and hard, head peaking through his foreskin, weeping precum down the shaft. He’s so big that it has your walls fluttering already. You’re not sure it’s even going to fit, but you really really want it to. It’s not every day you get fucked by a monster cock.

“Okay?”

Leon’s hesitant voice pulls your attention back to his face. Your hands stalled out on his biceps and you squeeze the muscle at the same time as you press your thighs together.

“Okay,” you smile up at him and he tries to return it, mouth too strange now to truly smile.

Your pussy throbs seeing those teeth of his. Even his monstrous traits are making you aroused, feeling hot all over from seeing his black claws settle on the bed near your hips—picturing as he grabs onto you with them, scratching you up.

Shivering, you part your thighs, slick leaking from your cunt. Leon groans and presses his face into your neck.

“Smell so good,” he mumbles.

“Can you,” you take in a shaky breath, “can you smell how turned on I am?”

“Uh huh,” he whines, tongue swiping across your skin, “taste it too.”

“Oh,” you breathily sigh, hands digging into his shoulders.

You let your eyes fall back to his cock, “Don’t know if you’ll fit, Leon.”

“Can fit,” he pants, humping the air for a split second as the tip drools more precum, “made to fit.”

“Is it?” you tease, running your hands down his arms, “I’ve got a pretty small pussy compared to that.”

He snarls against you neck making your heart race in fearful excitement.

“Make it fit,” he grunts, dropping his hips down to grind his bare cock against your covered pussy, “pretty mate will take it, breed her deep.”

Whining, you tug Leon close and press a soft kiss against his teeth.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” you gasp out and Leon listens, lolling his tongue out past those sharp fangs.

You slowly lap at it then suck his tongue into your mouth. His eyes narrow in delight and he plunges his tongue deep into your mouth, making you choke.

He pulls away, worry crossing his features, but you tug him back, “Again.”

Moaning, you open your mouth as wide as you can and let Leon fuck his tongue in and out, gagging you when he slips in too far. Your nipples are so hard they hurt and your pussy aches with emptiness.

You have to push Leon away but he keeps licking your cheek and jaw, the closest thing to a kiss he can give you right now.

Giggling, you slip off your skirt and panties and when that draws his attention, you take off your blouse and bra dropping it all into the floor.

Leon’s eyes rake over your body. Feeling a little self conscious, you try to close your legs but Leon shoves his way in between them.

“So pretty, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tongue lathing across your clavicle, “want to lick you all over.”

Shivering, you relax against the bed, “Okay, Leon.”

“Really?” he groans, tongue dragging across the swell of your breasts, “wanna eat you up.”

Your breath hitches, pussy getting wetter at the thought of Leon biting you with those teeth.

“You can,” you whisper, eyes watching as he nips at your chest.

You both moan when he sucks at your nipples, swapping back and forth between each hard bud. He loves to latch onto one, framing it with his teeth as his tongue flicks your nipple over and over and over until you’re squirming; then he gently suckles on it until your hips buck. Moving over to the other nipple, he repeats the process.

Soon, your nipples are puffy and swollen and Leon still concentrates on them, pinch them gently between his claws until you’re whining.

“Please, please, please,” you push your hips up until his cock drags along your slit, smearing slick and precum across your pussy lips.

A shaky exhale, “Want you to breed me, Leon.”

An inhuman sound rumbles in his chest as his sharp claws grab your hips, shoving you down onto the bed with him following after. He drops his weight on you making you moan, legs spread wide around his hips.

“Mate,” he growls looking down as he starts to press the fat tip of his cock into your dripping hole, “so wet for me, pussy wants it so bad.”

You whine as he stretches your pussy around his cock; he’s so big it’s making your eyes water while your cunt spasms and clenches down.

“Open up for me,” he licks across your neck, “open up that pretty pussy so I can fill her up.”

“Trying,” you mewl, relaxing your muscles so he slips in another few inches.

“There we go, such a pretty girl,” he purrs and nuzzles your cheek, “wants me to breed her full.”

Moaning, you raise your hips up shoving more of his cock into your too tight hole. A pained hiss comes from your lips but you tighten your legs around his body.

“Help me, Leon,” you pant, tears shimmering in your eyes, “you’re gonna have to make it fit.”

He groans and it echoes oddly in his chest.

“Make it fit, make it fit this pussy, mate needs my cock to fit,” he’s mumbling to himself.

He pulls his hips back making you whine which becomes a choked off moan when he bullies his thick cock all the way into your cunt until he’s bottoming out. You feel split in two, pussy fluttering and twitching around his dick.

Your eyes slip shut, tears slipping free, “God Leon, it’s too much.”

“Perfect fit,” he nips at your neck making you clench on him, “perfect pussy.”

You’re milking his cock and nothing has even happened yet.

“I can’t,” you whimper, eyes opening to look down at him mouthing across your breasts, “it’s too much.”

“Mmm,” he suckles at a hard nipple making your pussy throb, “feels so good.”

You lay there under his heavy body as he sucks and lathes his tongue across your puffy nipples until you’re squirming, grinding down into his dick.

“Feel better?”

Your eyes are hazy when you finally meet his gaze, “Yeah, s’good. You’re just so deep.”

He raises up and you both can see a small bump in your lower belly.

“Perfect pussy,” he strokes a clawed hand over it making you keen high in your throat, “taking me so good.”

Your hands have been tangled in the sheets this whole time, but now come up to grab onto his shoulders.

“You’re gonna ruin my pussy for anyone else,” you whimper eyes watching him pet bulge in your belly.

Snarling, he pulls his cock halfway out and bullies it back into your cunt making you squeal.

“My pussy,” he grunts, teeth gnashing, “my mate.”

“Ohh,” a breathy moan slips past your lips as Leon starts fucking harder and harder into your pussy.

“Say it,” his clawed hands dig into the skin of your hips, piercing the skin and making him even more frenzied.

“Y-your m-mate,” you finally spit out, slick leaking from your pussy as his claws dig into your hips, “your mate, Leon.”

“That’s right.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, Leon folding your knees up to your shoulders, “Leon, I can’t.”

“Y’can,” he grits out, mouth feeling full of too many teeth, too many hungry thoughts, “gotta, for me, please.”

You whine but go slack in his arms allowing him to push you further, letting him sink his cock back into your soaked hole. His body feels like it’s on fire, his chest feels so full of liquid heat that he’s surprised it’s not spilling past his lips.

“Thank you, thank you,” he chants around the fangs now taking up space in his mouth, “so good.”

“Leon,” you mewl, head hanging off of his bed from his thrusting, “m getting dizzy.”

He grabs your hips and without pulling out of your cunt, yanks your body back along the bed. Your eyes finally meet his and he feels your pussy flutter around his cock as fear strikes your features. The black veins have gotten worse around his temples traveling down to his jaw as a single black mass.

“Leon, are you okay?” your hand hesitates at your side but you lift it up to cup his face making him whine and nuzzle your palm.

“Hot, can’t think,” he stumbles over his words.

“You look worse..” your voice trails off as your eyes really take in his appearance, “maybe we should stop.”

He snarls and snaps his hips harder into your squelching cunt, a mewling cry escaping your mouth.

“No,” he bears his teeth at you, so sharp now, no longer his blunted human teeth but something more savage—feral.

Whining, your cunt milks his cock as he grinds his fat tip against the opening to your womb.

“Leon,” you gasp out as he starts pinching and rubbing your clit softly with those claws as he grinds deep into your clenching heat, “Leon, you’re—.”

Black veins race across his skin and pulse along with his heartbeat; his eyes seem to get the worst of it, making the sea dark color stand out even more almost like they’re glowing. His hands are gripping your hips so tightly they’re bruising.

“Breed, gotta cum in you,” he finally grits out, drool slipping from his mouth as he still isn’t used to his teeth, “pretty pretty girl. Gonna mate you, mark you. Mine. All mine.”

“Leon,” you whine, hands reaching out to brush his hair away from his face, watching the veins wiggle and squirm under his skin.

Your pussy clamps down on his dick to hear his husky voice mutter, “Bite you deep, mate you, breed you, all mine.”

Arousal floods your body at the thought of him sinking those needle sharp teeth into your skin, the stinging bite of having him mark you like that. Subconsciously, you’re arching your neck to him, baring the soft unmarked skin for his perusal.

He growls, fucking you in long slow thrusts, cock stretching you so open it makes your eyes water. You feel as his hands grip you even tighter, nails pricking your skin and making you bleed.

He scents the air and pants like a dog down at you, drool dripping all over your chest and neck.

“Smell so pretty,” he licks a trail from your jaw down to your clavicle, “wanna taste, w’nna taste, please.”

You’re nodding before you can think better of it, “Yes, yes, Leon.”

His sharp teeth pierce the junction where you neck and shoulder meet making your eyes roll back in your head, crying out loudly while your pussy gushes slick as you cum around Leon’s dick.

He growls and fucks you through your orgasm.

“Never had something so good before,” he’s lapping at the bloody mark on your neck, “god, never felt anything this good ever. So wet, so good, pussy’s so good. Never give you up, never. Kill anyone who touches you. Mine all mine. My mate, my breeder.”

The pain in your neck slowly radiates into syrupy pleasure; it drips down into your body, nipples tightening in pleasure and clit throbbing with want.

“Leon,” you slur, “what, what..”

“Poison,” he sounds apologetic but his eyes watch you hungrily, “make you feel good, aphrodisiac,” he stumbles over the word like it’s new to his vocabulary.

Your cunt aches when Leon pulls completely out and you moan loudly when he bottoms out into you again.

“Full, gotta keep mate nice and full,” his teeth still has flecks of your blood, making your cunt pulse with want again.

“Leon,” you mewl pitifully, hands cupping his face, “s’too much.”

He blinks and his eyes seem to clear for a second, “Sorry, sorry sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you whine.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want anyone else but you,” he pants, eyes darkening again, “knew you’d be perfect and you are.”

His voice drops, the low timbre giving you goosebumps, “Perfect mate for me. Never need anyone else.”

Everything goes a little fuzzy on the edges, like you’ve had a little too much to drink; your thoughts are cotton soft and candy sweet.

Leon is smiling at you now, or it looks like a smile, teeth bared at you but with gentle eyes.

“Leon,” you giggle up at him, endorphins running rampant in your blood, bubbling like fresh champagne in a glass.

“Pretty,” he licks at the mark on your neck, “keep you, breed you over and over and over.”

You rock your hips up and moan, body on fire craving for him to cum inside you.

“Leon, want it so bad, cum in me please,” you beg up at him, eyes wet with tears.

He bites you again this time on the shoulder and you scream as another orgasm washes over your body.

“Mate feels so good,” he drools against your neck, licking at the bite.

Your eyes roll back in your head, hips rocking down to press Leon deeper into your cunt somehow. His pelvis grinds against your pudgy clit making your pussy clench repeatedly around his throbbing dick.

You’re both panting and moaning, rutting against each other like animals. Leon keeps biting at your unmarked skin which has you gushing slick around his cock.

“Breed me, Leon, need it,” your tongue is swollen and heavy in your mouth.

You can’t even think past the haze of needy arousal taking over you body. Leon’s sharp claws move up to your ribs, sinking into your skin to draw more blood making you toss your head back with a moan.

“Mark me up,” you scratch at his shoulders, a poor imitation of his own dangerous nails, “feels good.”

Leon’s snarling again, hips picking up a rough pace as he fucks his weeping cock into your squelching cunt.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” your spine arches as his cock drags against your g spot and knocks against your cervix.

The lizard part of your brain promises you that’s where he belongs, buried deep in your womb.

Leon watches you with sharp blue eyes, mouth panting as drool drips down onto your chest. He starts a slow, rolling grind to capitalize on rubbing against that spongy spot as well as press against the opening to your cervix.

“Perfect,” his voice is deep and gravelly making your clit throb, “breed this pussy good and deep.”

“Yes, Leon, please,” you hump down on him, trying to get him to go faster but he doesn’t budge, “need it so bad, breed me. Want your cum.”

He grunts, eyes lit up with excitement as he just watches you get more and more desperate. You feel like you’re going crazy you’re so turned on.

“Please,” your voice cracks, “it hurts Leon ‘m so empty.”

He finally relents but moves to put you in a mating press, holding your legs up and open, clawed hands pressing against your thighs so he can fuck down into your soaked cunt.

“Need it, need it, please Leon,” you hiccup a whine, “my pussy’s ruined for anyone else, need you to keep me full.”

He growls and snaps his teeth at you, hips thrusting even rougher into your hole making you moan happily.

“Mate you,” he grunts, grinding down into your spasming pussy.

“There,” you gasp, eyes crossing as his cock rubs against your g-spot and grinds against your cervix just right.

Your body’s tightening, orgasm ratcheting up.

“Gonna fill you up,” he groans.

“Uh huh,” you slur, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Leon, fuck!”

Thighs shaking when his pelvis catches your clit, your body locks up as you scream out your climax. He keeps grinding against your cervix and g-spot prolonging the pleasure overloading your body. Your mind is wiped of any thoughts, only the feeling of Leon inside your pussy.

“Mine,” his hips buck and stutter, “all mine.”

His mouth opens and he sinks his sharp teeth in your neck again as he pumps your cunt full of hot jizz. Eyes rolling back at the dual sensations, another weak orgasm has your pussy clamping down on his cock. He hisses as you milk him over and over while he spills sticky cum deep into your womb, fat tip pressed right against the opening.

“Leon,” you whimper, hands slipping into his hair to guide him to face you, “kiss please.”

His tongue plunges into your open mouth making you moan as you taste hints of your own blood. Your pussy walls flutter as his cock kicks and throbs, spurting the last of his cum into your cunt.

He slowly slips his tongue out of your mouth at the same time he eases his dick out of your pussy with a wet suctioning noise. Whimpering, your legs lay against the bed as he quickly moves down the length of your body.

He grabs your ass and tilts you up.

“Gotta keep it all inside,” he murmurs, eyes zeroed in on your puffy cunt.

Your body still pulses with aftershocks, but you slowly realize in your soupy brain that the black veins are slowly disappearing. Leon’s mouth is also reforming itself until he only has sharp incisors left. The claws are last to change, but his fingertips still have pointier nails that look like they can still slice you open.

“Leon,” you murmur to grab his attention.

Humming, he looks up at you. His eyes drop down to the bite marks all across your neck and shoulders and his pupils dilate. Gently, he lets go of your hips to move back up your body. He kisses you heatedly, tongue dipping into your mouth with a groan.

“God, I want to do it again,” he drags his lips down to the bites and sucks on them; a mewling cry slipping from your mouth.

He shifts up and kisses you again, nipping your bottom lip until blood fills your kiss.

“Taste so good,” he whispers into your mouth before sucking on your lip, “pretty little mate.”

You finally pull away, exhaustion making your eyes droop.

“Leon, I can’t, at least not right now,” you stroke his jaw, admiring his flushed face.

“Sorry,” he turns and kisses your wrist, placing a small bite on the skin, “you’re just driving me crazy right now. You look and smell so good.”

You giggle, still feeling a little loopy from the mind blowing sex, “Well that’s all your fault, mister.”

He sheepishly grins at you, “Yeah. I really am sorry you know.”

You pull him down to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t be. I’ve been kinda hoping we’d fuck,” you boop his nose with a laugh at his scandalous expression.

“I just meant—“

“I know,” you cut him off with a smile, “and as insane as that was, definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

You gently touch the first bite with your hand and feel a zing of pleasure all the way down to your pussy.

“A girl could get addicted to this,” you murmur, running your other hand through his hair.

He nuzzles into your neck, dropping kisses all over the marks. Sighing, you let him kiss your neck until you feel his teeth scraping the skin.

“No more of that,” he whines at you, “m tired, Leon. Need to sleep.”

Placing one last kiss on the first bite mark, he drops down beside you and tugs you into his chest. You sigh and snuggle into him. He runs his fingernails down your back making you shiver, body going lax in his hold.

As you drift off to sleep you hear him whisper into your hair, “All mine.”

#las plagas!leon s kennedy #las plagas!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #las plagas!leon #infected!leon s kennedy #infected!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #las plagas!leon s kennedy smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #reader is totally into monster fucking leon s Kennedy lmao

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maxislvt · 8 months

Text

Succubus Season

pairing(s): succubus! wanda maximoff x reader, brief natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Just when your life starts to come together, life throws another curve ball at you. Except this time it isn't a bully or a shitty English teacher. This curve ball is seven feet tall with horns and a lot of pent-up sexual energy.

warnings: jealousy, possessive thoughts/behavior, AMAB!Reader, dom!Wanda, sub!Reader, anal sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, overstimulation, cum eating, size kink (she's 7 feet tall)

a/n: Idk this is a tad self indulgent but it's Fine because it's sexy

Event Masterlist

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Adulthood came with many struggles. You made it through high school, your poor budgeting habits, and you're currently pushing your way through medical school. It wasn't easy, but your determination and pride got you through it. Now you were one step further into adulthood by owning a house. No more roommates or weird landlords. Just your own space with no one else in it.

However, you hit an unexpected bump in the road.

Moving in seemed harder than doing all the paperwork. At first, you blamed it on how far you were moving. Some of your friends were kind enough to drive anywhere from 2 to 15 hours to help you move. It was possible they were tired and didn't consider how strenuous moving was. Then things got a little bit odd. You couldn't leave a room unattended for more than half an hour without someone getting some sort of freak injury. Luckily it was nothing worse than little cuts or bruises.

Oddly, fixing up the garage proved to be the hardest part. Bucky got sent to the hospital over a spider bite. Steve's asthma suddenly kicked up — though part of that was his fault considering everyone told him it'd be a bad idea to clean a dusty room without an inhaler. A lot of them had been overcome with mysterious illnesses and your team was getting smaller and smaller.

Eventually, it was down to just you and Tony.

All that was left to do was fix your janky garage door and the god-awful cabinets. It should've been a simple job. Replacing a few doors and fixing up some gears. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nearly impossible.

"God, this stupid fucking drill." You grumbled while trying to loosen the screws holding the cabinet door together. Tool malfunctions were another thing hindering your progress. One toolbox to fix the whole house wasn't entirely effective, but the finicky handles and rather disagreeable drill bits weren't making it any better. "Son of a bitch, these cabinet doors are hideous anyways!" After another failed attempt at removing the screw, you slam the tool on the countertop with a frustrated grunt. You slammed it a bit too hard against the counter because the sound shook the whole garage.

The old gears in your garage door creaked and shook before suddenly turning to drop the door.

"Tony, look out!" You shouted before running over to catch the door. The metal door slammed down hard on your shoulder blades. "Ah, shit!" You hissed out. It took all your strength to push the door back up. "Fuck, are you okay?" You asked Tony while rubbing your bruising shoulder blades.

Tony stared up at the garage door before getting up. He anxiously cleared his throat. "Well, if that doesn't open my eyes to my old age, I don't know what will." His shaky hands smooth out his shirt before grabbing his tools. "Yeah kid, I think I'm gonna call it a day after that." An unusually shaky sigh fell from his lips as he hugged you.

You looked up at the garage door. It needed to be fixed, but nothing physical was worth the life of a friend. "Um..yeah you do that. I'll just fix it my-"

"Don't do that," Tony interrupted, knowing your history with home repair.

A grimace overtook your features, but you knew Tony was right. "Okay, I won't fix it myself. I'll try and find some company to do it." You patted Tony on the back. He wasn’t the most tan friend you had, but you'd never seen him so pale before. "We should get you a drink before letting you head home."

With that, you were down to just yourself.

Your shoulders were in too much pain for you to keep working so you called it a day. Eight o'clock was a bit early for you, but you were much too shaky to do anything else. After a quick shower and some pain cream on your shoulder blades, you called it a day. Pain and warm water turned out to be the perfect combination for sleep.

"Release me…"

You shot up and immediately looked around the room. No one else was in your room. You weren't sure if it was real, but there were goosebumps on your skin and the hairs on your neck wouldn't lay down. As scary as it was, you decided you must've left the TV on up front and ignored it.

The next morning you're a bit jarred but ready to spend the weekend cleaning.

You looked around the garage to see what you had left to do. The garage door was off-limits and you were beyond frustrated with the cabinets in there. Just when you thought it'd be a simple work day, you noticed a hatch on the roof. Odd, you don't remember there being an attic on the room list when you bought the house.

You shrugged and jumped up to bring down the step ladder. The creaking underneath your feet meant it was time for the wood to be replaced, but you decided to prioritize exploration. Which turned out not to be the best idea.

"What the fuck!?" The words slipped out before you could even think. You looked around the attic. Chalk lines drawn out to make a magical symbol that you weren't even going to pretend you understood. There were more symbols carved into the wall. In the middle of it all, there was a small table. You weren't crazy enough to step towards it but you could see a jar filled with some mysterious liquid surrounded by other magical trinkets you didn't want to touch. "...Well, I guess that's what I get for buying a three-bedroom house for less than 100,000," You whispered as you climbed down the ladder.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Now that you were terrified of your garage, you decided to focus on the less haunted part of your house.

It was a pain in the ass to move furniture and boxes by yourself, but better than a bunch of mysterious dead friends. After about a month or so, you were finally satisfied with the state of your house. The once barren walls were now filled with photographs and pairings. Long gone was the feeling of emptiness. It was your space now.

"Let me out, detka, please."

Oh, and the space of whatever freaky demon that was occupying that jar in your attic. Ignoring it was becoming harder. What started as the occasional whisper in your sleep turned into uncomfortably realistic wet dreams and a lot of ruined underwear. Now you could feel it hovering over you.

Tonight was the worst of it. Sensual kisses along the column of your neck pulled you in and out of sleep. Its hands were abnormally adventurous too. A less sleep-deprived version of yourself would've questioned the kisses on your neck, but your lack of sleep had left you a tiny bit delusional. One particular rough kiss finally woke you up properly.

The pain made you jolt up. "Fuck, you're having fun with this." You whisper despite the fact you're not sure it was listening. Your sleep shorts are stained with precum and you're painfully erect. A heavy sigh fell from your lips. "God, I hope you don't turn out to be some evil murder demon." The walk to your garage felt incredibly long. Each step added to the knot in your stomach. It was a miracle you didn't vomit by the time you stood underneath the hatch.

Your body moved as if it weren't your own. Awkward and clunky, but desperate to reach a goal you weren't too keen on. Once the ladder dropped back down your fate was sealed. You climbed up into the attic and stumbled towards the table.

For a moment just looked at the jar. Then you started laughing. "God, I am losing my mind. What is this stuff anyways, some disgusting old jam?" You scuffed with unwarranted confidence as you opened the jar.

It was not jam. Nor was it jelly or some other kind of preserve.

It was a seven-foot-tall demon. She had tinted red skin and two sets of horns sticking out of her head. You could see serrated teeth and an uncomfortably long tongue behind plum lips. You couldn't see them since they were above your head and you weren't going to risk looking away from it, but you could tell that it had claws.

The only thing keeping you from screaming your head off was not wanting to deal with a noise complaint in the morning.

"So um, can you put in on rent or are you just gonna bum out in my attic?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Wanda lived on Earth for thousands of years and never had she met a human more determined than you were. At first, she blamed your disinterest on her demonic form, but not even her human form could take your eyes off whatever project had taken up your time. Your focus was admirable, but Wanda was starting to get hungry.

So she decided to be more upfront about her needs.

Today, the only thing between her and a proper meal was a book. One you'd been reading for nearly an hour, but it was easier to take your attention away from that than it was from work.

Wanda laid down on your stomach and looked up at you with the softest, most desperate eyes she could muster. "I know this might come off as too much, but I'm really hungry...I just need a little something to get me through the day." Her eyes carefully watched your facial expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.

"Oh, you must be starving."

Wanda was expecting a more sympathetic tone, but you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You quickly marked your page in the book and laid it down on the coffee table. "Wait right here, I'll make you something good." Part of you felt like one of those evil landlords on Reddit. You were making her pay rent but she didn't feel comfortable eating. "I have some snacks in the cabinets if you're really hungry. Help yourself to whatever."

Her fingers twitch. It's not what she wanted, but she found herself tempted. "It's fine, I can wait," She whispered. Succubi shouldn't get nervous. Wanda's hands reached out and held your waist. The benefit of being a succubus is that Wanda knows you won't deny her. Her fingers slipped underneath your shirt just to feel the softness of your skin. "What are you cooking?"

The question confused Wanda. She'd never cared about a human beyond a desire to feed off of them, but you were different. She was desperate to know more about you. Wanda wanted you in a way that she'd never wanted a human before. Thoughts of jealousy began stirring in her heart. As her fingertips explored the softness of your skin.

It didn't take long for that desire to evolve into something more deviant. Wanda found herself hating the physical space between you and her. She found herself disappointed she couldn't be inside you. As adorable as human fragility was, she couldn't stand the fact she couldn't be closer. Wanda needed to be under your skin and next to your still-beating heart. A hoodie could only make up for that half the time.

It wouldn't be much longer before she'd have to feed from you. Only you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It was embarrassing to admit as a succubus, but Wanda had officially gone multiple months without feeding from anyone. To rub salt in the wound, the one person she wanted to feed from seemingly had no issue sleeping around.

You were always talking up some girl and brought a new one home every other week. That was bad enough on its own, but you were always kind enough to make them breakfast or wash their clothes before sending them off. And once they were gone, you were right back by Wanda's side like nothing happened. Like you didn't just manage to play with the feelings of a succubus and send her into a jealous spiral.

Your latest adventure seemed to get under her skin like no one else before. This mysterious redhead had done quite a number on you. Dark red and purple bruises littered your neck and shoulders and you could barely stand upright. If you hadn't bashfully shooed her away, Wanda wouldn't have had a problem helping. Of course, your little fling was there to save the day.

"I didn't think you'd be able to walk after all that," The woman said with an amused tone. She sauntered up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Her chin rested on top of your head. "You sure you don't want me to finish those up for you? I'm a little worried you're gonna collapse on me."

You squirmed in Natasha's grasp as her fingers traced along the top of your waistband. "Y-yeah, it's fine Natasha. Just go watch TV or something…" The blush on your face is almost hot enough to cook the eggs. You don't even remember the last time someone made you this bashful. It was new. "I appreciate your offer though," You mumbled, unsure how to carry on the conversation.

"You're still shy even after last night?" Natasha asked teasingly. Her fingertips slipped into your boxers but didn't move much further past the waistband. She pushed her hips against your ass just enough for you to feel the pressure. "I think I like being right here, just like this." She whispered into your ear. Her eyes looked off to the side with a knowing smirk.

The whole scene made Wanda sick with jealousy. Her stomach churned every time you laughed at one of Natasha's jokes. Succubus couldn't throw up, but she. would've already. You were hers even if you didn't know it yet.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt like you were going mad.

It was getting harder to suppress your attraction to Wanda. You wish you could blame it on her interest in human clothes or all the cuddling, but neither of those was the problem. It was all your perverted tendencies. Every time Wanda crossed your mind it was always something sexual. These thoughts weren't brief either. Once you started one of your sick little fantasies, it was hard to stop. You were washing 20 pairs of underwear a week with how much precum you were leaving.

Your growing relationship with the demon only made things more complicated. Wanda seemed to become more physically affectionate by the day. Her human form was cute but it was her natural form that seemed to be giving you the most trouble. The shock of meeting a demon for the first time had worn off and you began to notice the small details. If your dick would appreciate them as well.

The only thing it seemed to care about was how big Wanda was. Especially when she was using you as her body pillow. The softness of her breast pressed against your chest and it was driving you mad. You were so focused on not getting a boner that you completely drowned out the noise from the movie.

As fun as watching you squirm and wiggle, Wanda had waited long enough.

She sat up on your lap, straddling your hips with her thighs. Wanda's hand slipped underneath your shirt to keep you pinned to the couch. Her claws lightly scratched at the sensitive skin. "It's cute you think I can't tell how turned on you are right now." A satisfied chuckle escaped her lips as you sucked your breath. "Don't think I haven't heard all those nasty little thoughts in your heads."

Your eyes followed Wanda's fingers nervously. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me!" She toyed with the hem of your shorts. You were at a loss for words. It wasn't like you could deny your feelings with your dick hard as a rock. “I know we’re like roommates, but we don’t have to do anything!” Embarrassment wasn't good enough to describe how you were feeling. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Wanda ripped off your shorts in one swift motion. “Oh detka, I want to be something more than just roommates.” Her long tongue licked the precum oozing from your neglected tip. It left a savory taste in her mouth that she couldn't help but enjoy. “God you don’t know how hard it was to live knowing you were wasting this stuff on girls who couldn’t make you feel half as good as I do.” Her free hand massaged your balls as she took your length inside her mouth. They weren’t as full as she would’ve liked them to be, but Wanda knew she would have access to them whenever she wanted them. Self-control was quickly flying out the window. Her hunger was starting to take over and she no longer had it in her to go slow for your sake. Wanda needed your cum and she needed a lot of it. “Do you know the best part of having sex with a succubus?”

The pleasure alone had your head spinning. “W-what?” It wasn’t a response to her question, but rather a moment of shock at Wanda’s confession. You weren’t well versed in the land of demons, but you didn’t think Wanda was anything like that. Was she gonna eat you? Maybe you should’ve asked more questions rather than worrying about her paying rent.

Her hand wrapped around your dick and began stroking slowly. She leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “I know exactly how to fuck you senseless.” Wanda hooked your legs over her shoulders. This time, Wanda's tongue went straight for your asshole. She watched your eyes roll to the back of your head with a satisfied smirk. No one's ever fucked you this way. It's almost impossible for her tongue fuck you the way she'd like but your whining makes up for it.

You're a mess. It felt like your insides were melting, but you were too overstimulated to even consider pushing back. You were usually the one on top and doing all the teasing. Now it was near impossible for you to speak without moaning and stumbling over your own words. "F-fuck, I'm close. Please don't stop, I'm gonna cum!" Your hands grabbed Wanda by her horns and pulled her closer to your ass.

Wanda hummed against you. You looked so cute when you were desperate to cum. She pushed your shirt up to your chest and signaled for you to hold it up. Of course, you do it without question. That mindless obedience would get you far. Wanda's tongue pressed down against your prostate. Milking you was a bit much for your first time doing anal, but Wanda wasn't going to hold back.

You couldn't even speak. It was just a string of desperate moans in place of words. The knot in your stomach bubbled up and snapped suddenly. Cum shot out of you in sticky, hot ropes. Your orgasm was almost never ending. Every time you thought it was over, she'd keep pushing you.

Wanda kept milking you until you'd gone soft. Her tongue slipped out of your hole. She wasted no time licking up the cum dripping down your chest and stomach. A deep, guttural moan escaped her lips at the taste of your cum. Her eyes glowed a deep red for a brief second. Wanda looked into your eyes and smirked. "I never want to see you with anyone else. Got it?"

You looked into her eyes and suddenly felt so tired. It was like a trance. There were a lot of questions going through your mind but you were too weak to ask any of them. "Got it." Was the only thing you could manage to say.

Wanda affectionately scratched your head. You were like a pet to her. "Let's get you cleaned up," She kissed your cheek before lifting you up and taking you to your bedroom.

You were grateful for her immense strength and gentleness. There was no way you'd be able to walk all the way to your room after that. You only vaguely heard Wanda's request that you not fall asleep while she prepared a bath for you. As tired as you were, there was something subconsciously urging you to stay awake as she requested. You rolled over slowly when Wanda returned from the bathroom. "Are you like…in my head forever now?" You asked sleepily.

Your question caught Wanda off guard. She didn't answer your question at first. Instead, she rolled you onto your stomach. It was only then that she had the answer to your question. "It appears so." She said calmly. Her fingers traced the tattoo now permanently etched into your skin. "Don't worry, I'll be kind to you..if you behave."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Pluto's Halloween Bash 2023

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munson-blurbs · 10 months

Text

Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke.

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house.

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics.

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat.

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off.

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you.

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head.

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted.

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts.

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea.

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich.

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends.

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word.

Bingo.

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that.

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets.

You’re in.

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations.

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror.

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back.

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance.

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck.

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away.

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins.

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke.

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline.

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact.

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck.

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss.

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his.

“Good.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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undertheorangetree · 8 months

Text

Snowed In

Summary- A snow storm leads to an opportunity.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Modern Aemond. Cat Vhagar is modern AU canon. Friends to lovers vibe. Thigh riding. Blowjob. Cunnilingus. P in V sex. Safe sex practices for once. Probably ooc Aemond cuz he's experiencing joy.

Author's Note- Yes all of my fics take place in the winter what about it?? That's my business that I am now involving you in link to full fic below :)

dividers by me

"They've just closed campus."

Her head pops up from behind her laptop, staring at Aemond in wide eyed disbelief. Already, there is a sympathetic wince on his face, the kind that is only ever present when he knows she is about to get upset, but even then she refuses to believe him.

"Closed? What do you mean closed?"

"It says they had to on account of the weather."

"No, they haven't. Let me see."

He spins his laptop screen to face her, forcing her to push her own down in order to see properly. His email has been left open on the page and her eyes rove over the message she had so desperately hoped he had made up. There before her in big bold letters are the words URGENT- CAMPUS CLOSED followed by a brief explanation blaming a snow storm and apologizing for any inconveniences the decision may have caused.

She lets out a groan, leaning back in the library's old chair, a pleading look on her face as if Aemond is the one responsible for making such decisions. He may as well be, with his family being such heavy contributors to Oldtown University's alumni fund, his last name plastered across the front of one of the many building on campus. She has half the mind to ask him to go speak to whichever family member is on the chair committee to convince them to reverse the decision and allow them to go back to finishing their final papers, though somehow she doubts that would be likely.

"The storm wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow. It can't already be that bad, can it?"

He reaches over toward the blinds they have long since closed, both of them having agreed that the glare from the sun was too distracting hours ago, only to be met with the sight of a now white campus, the snow blanketing near everything in sight. It's evident now why they would have shut down campus - it must have been snowing for hours- but she still feels something close to dread work its way up her spine.

She sucks in a heavy breath, turning to face Aemond once more. "Do you think they would have shut down the buses too?"

She knows it's a lost cause even as she asks it. The university is located away from the port, standing alone at the top of one of the mountains. It's a steep drive even in idle conditions and she knows that with the snow on the roads, the chances of her being able to commute back to her apartment are slim to none.

Just as she suspects, he simply looks at her, face contorted in a way that clearly implies that she already knows the answer. She bites out a curse, half slamming her laptop down before dropping her face into her hands.

The last thing she wants to do is spend the night on campus. She doubts that they were the only two caught unaware and trying to find a place to camp out for the night is going to be hell. Not for him, of course. Aemond's family connections came with seemingly endless perks and he had been set up with a beautiful flat on campus, less than a five minute walk from the library. He has lived there ever since she has known him and she had been there more times than she could count. Since first befriending him during orientation week in their first year, she had spent countless nights eating take out and studying for finals there. With their joint history major, they had taken nearly every class together, making last night studying near second nature at this point, so close to finishing their degrees.

There's a faint burn of envy in her gut at the thought of his flat- warm, isolated, cozy- but it's quickly snuffed out by her nervousness, fretting over where exactly she is meant to camp out tonight. She doubts she will actually sleep, not while she’s alone on campus, but she still wants to be at least somewhat comfortable. A padded chair would be ideal, though she knows they will be difficult to come by if she doesn’t act quickly.

Shoving her laptop back into her bag, she begins collecting the handful of papers she had sprawled out across the tabletop. "I guess I should go and try to find somewhere to sleep. It's going to be a blood bath trying to find something with decent cushioning."

He scoffs. "You're not going to be fighting any blood baths. Just spend the night at mine."

Read the rest here

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lycheedr3ams · 11 months

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write about a mean!ghost x reader? Either angst or with a breeding kink🫶

it is a bit unholy how much this ask excited me. i should not be attracted to mean fictional men, but here we are at this point in history

thanks for this ask! I hope y'all enjoy

fem!reader x mean!ghost

MDNI

Warnings: ghost is really mean to reader in the beginning, canon-typical violence, CMNF, humiliation, slight breeding kink, angst, crying, brief mention of female masturbation, fingering, hair-pulling, predator/prey dynamics, pussy slapping, hate sex, orgasm denial, harddom!ghost, dub-con, slight making up at end

Reader is a sniper and your callsign is Reaper

not proofread

you did your best as team 141's new sniper. Gaz, Soap, and Price all warmed up to you rather quickly. you were deadly on the field and friendly when everything was said and done. really, there was no one who didn't like you. you were just too nice, your smile too pure, for anyone to have any problem with you.

Ghost was the only exception. the prickly lieutenant wasn't too fond of having another sniper on the team to compete with, especially since you were, on the books, a better sniper than him. his orders to you were always barked with much more bite than the orders he gave to others. his gaze towards you was always draped with a slight scowl. when you'd get the perfect shot, or save the mission from failing, you never got any praise. all he would respond with was a silent stare that ripped your heart into shreds, or a grunt that sounded more like disapproval.

and you had enough of it.

you asked Ghost if you could speak with him one night while you all were on base, waiting for your next assignment. he couldn't mask the slight surprise in his eyes, before he nodded curtly.

when the time came for you to speak with him, you couldn't help how your heart almost escaped your chest. not only was he your superior, he was Ghost, the one soldier whom everyone feared, like a cryptid in some military folklore. and here you were, about to walk right into his lair, right into his sharp teeth. asking the wolf why he preyed on the lamb.

but there was another problem. Ghost, for all of his horror and renown on the field, was so fucking hot. how he stood tall with his arm crossed in all his masculine glory. how deep and raspy he sounded when he grunted, or how gravelly his voice was in the coms in your ear when he clipped orders at you. how his ass looked in those tactical pants, how you've spent many nights thinking about him as you stuffed your cunt with your fingers. you hated how his voice, his oh so mean voice reserved only for you, soaked your panties almost every time.

you knocked on the door to his office, trying to ignore your pumping heart and throbbing core as you stood and waited.

"come in," his deep voice sounded through the door. you slowly opened it and entered without looking at him as you shut the door. you took a deep breath and faced him, but you kept your back against the door.

"sir," you said dutifully. a formality that you cursed. "i wanted to speak to you about something." your voice shook slightly. despite all the things you've seen, all the people you've killed, this one man has the power to make you weak in the knees and in the head.

"yeah, figured that much," he said shortly. "spit it out."

you gulped, and you stepped forward a little. you would face him confidently, not cowering against the door like a student called into the principle's office. you summoned yourself here willingly, and there was no backing out.

"sir, i've been on the team for a while, and i would like to think that i've been a great asset. but i'm wonderiong if i've done anything to offend you?" you stated.

silence. you could've heard a pin drop in his office as he stared at you with his arm crossed, leaning back against his desk. his cold stare could've frozen your heart.

he wanted you to crack under his gaze. to spit out something stupid that would give him an excuse to dismiss you from the team. but you knew better. you met his deadly gaze head-on. if you were to die here, like this, at least you would do so standing up for yourself.

he slowly blinked, and you felt your heart drop when he finally spoke. "offended me?" he scoffed. "don't flatter yourself."

you slightly furrowed your brows.

"and what makes you think you've offended me?" he asked mockingly. your blood was boiling. you gulped. fuck it. if he was going to be so direct and curt, so were you.

"sir, you treat me differently than the others."

ghost stood up a bit straighter as he squared his shoulders, his arms still crossed on his chest.

"oh yeah?" he goaded. "how so?"

he knew the answer already. he wanted to make you crack, to hear you say it.

"sir, you're a lot... harder on me," you said slowly as you chose your words carefully. "it's the tone in your voice, and the way you look at me."

he inspected you for a moment. "the way i look at you, huh?" he said quietly.

"yes, sir," you said as confidently at you could.

ghost began to walk towards you, slowly, as if he were a beast stalking prey from the shadows. he made a beeline towards you.

"and how is it you think i look at you differently?" he was now within arm's reach as he looked down at you.

you almost lost your train of thought as you looked up at him. this close, he smelled like cigarettes and a tinge of whiskey, and gunpowder. you hated how hot, how attractive, it was. how his eyes stared into your own.

"sir, you..." you thought for a moment. the tension could've been cut with a knife. "you look at me very...disapprovingly."

ghost blinked. "oh, so you want my approval, is that it?" he quipped.

your eyes went wide for a moment before you shook your head. "no, sir. i just want to be treated like an equal member of this team."

your answer must've surprised him, because he leaned back ever so slightly as his eyes widened. but he quickly caught himself and resumed his dangerously indifferent stance.

"and what would it take to make you feel like an equal part of this team?" he asked.

you hadn't expected that. you cleared your throat before you spoke. "i'd just like you to talk to me the way you do to the other members, sir."

"you want me to talk to you like you're a man?" he knew that wasn't the answer.

"not exactly, sir. i just want to be treated like i'm an equal. i can't help but feel like you don't like me."

now he really hadn't expected you to say that. you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"you come into my office and accuse me of not liking you?" he said coldly.

you looked him in the eyes. "sir, i didn't accuse you. i'm stating my observations and asking you to confirm or deny them."

he observed you for another moment before he started to slowly walk around you, until he was at your back. the hairs stood on the back of your neck as he leaned down to your ear.

"what about the way you look at me?" he whispered.

you instantly blushed, and your heart raced.

"i've seen the way you stare at me, how your eyes wander," he rasped. "how you stare at my arms and my cock."

"sir! i -" you squeaked. but you were cut off when one of his gloved hands came to rest over your mouth, and the other around your stomach, holding you against him. his hardening bulge was pressed against your ass.

"shh, don't want anyone else to hear this, do you?" he cooed in your ear. you breathed hard as you looked up at him, his gloved hand still covering your mouth.

"don't hide it, Reaper, i know you want me," he whispered in your ear. your eyes fluttered shut as you slightly relaxed against him. he smirked.

"that's what i thought." he let you go, and you quickly turned around to face him.

"you don't even know mean," he challenged as he looked at you with bedroom eyes through his skull mask. "i'll show you just how mean I can be."

you gulped again as you looked up at him.

"strip. before i rip those clothes off of you," he commanded.

you looked at him with wide eyes. you stopped breathing.

"that was an order, soldier," he said shorter this time. "don't test my patience."

you slightly nodded at him before you took off your shirt slowly. once it was off, you held it in front of you, over your stomach. but the warning in his eyes told you all you needed to know. you let your shirt drop to the floor with a quiet thud before you went to untie your shoes to remove them and your pants. most of your clothes were now in a heap on the floor next to you, your bra and panties still on.

"all of it. off." he snapped.

you blushed as you removed your undergarments, and wrapped your arms around your stomach as you stood bare before him. he breathed in deeply as he raked every inch of your body with his hungry eyes.

he jerked his head towards his desk. "bend over on the desk. now."

you slowly turned your back to him, walking towards his desk. it felt as if you were turning your back on a predator as you did so. you bent over on his desk until your elbows hit the smooth metal. your nipples perked up from the cold, and you looked behind you as you saw ghost approaching your naked body. the thud of his steps sounded like an earthquake to you as you waited with baited breath.

"look forward," he commanded once he made eye contact with you. you obeyed instantly. his presence could be felt right behind you now, and you gasped as a gloved finger slid over your wet pussy. ghost groaned.

"you can't hate me that much, to be this fucking wet for me," he growled as he all too gently rubbed your folds. "this pussy's just been achin' for me, hasn't it?"

"s...sir..." you said through labored breaths, your eyes screwed shut. but they flew open when he slapped your wet pussy. he huffed out his version of a laugh.

"that's what i thought." he pushed his index finger right against your clit, and you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes as he gently stroked it. "such a brave girl, coming into my office like this. you just wanted my cock so bad."

you shook your head. "no, no that's not why I came. oh!" he pressed harder against your clit, and your body shivered.

"pretendin' to be mad at me. it's got me worked up, i'll give ya that," he said as he splayed one hand over your back, pressing you down.

"i am mad - fuck!" you gasped as he inserted two gloved fingers into your pussy and began to stroke. you couldn't help the moans that flew from your mouth as he hit that spot that made you see stars.

"nothin' but a moanin' bitch for me now that i've got my fingers in you."

you grit your teeth and bit your tongue so that you wouldn't moan. he withdrew his fingers from your pussy but still held your back down. you looked back at him angrily.

"oh, that upset her," he teased. he leaned forward, and his voice took a much deeper and serious tone. "you're going to have to beg for it."

"fuck you," you said on instinct. but your eyes went wide as you realized what you had just said to your superior.

and ghost laughed. "i could dismiss you just for that, you know?" he said as he began to tease your entrance again. your eyes fluttered shut. "but i'm willing to forgive you if you beg for my fingers."

you grit your teeth. the feeling of his gloved fingers against your wet slit was perfect, but not enough. his fingers had filled you up so well, so much better than your own.

"please," you whispered.

"hm? didn't hear you," ghost said as he gently teased your entrance with his fingertips. you gasped.

"p...please," you said a bit louder.

"please what?" his fingertips slid in and out of your pussy.

you whimpered. "please, please i need your fingers."

"atta girl," he cooed as he pressed two fingers inside of you again. you gasped louder this time as he stroked them perfectly on your g-spot. "you sure you want to be treated equally?" he egged you on. "i don't treat any other task force members like this."

you moaned as he continued to stroke you, but suddenly the hand that was on your back came up to your hair and pulled your head back towards him. his fingers began to fuck you at a brutal pace and you screwed your eyes shut.

"i asked you a question, Reaper," ghost spat.

you tried to remember his question as his fingers fucked you. he shook his head. "already forgot? dumb bitch. i asked if you wanted to still be treated like an equal."

you moaned as his fingers curved at the end with each thrust. "n...no!!"

ghost released your hair and held you down again as his fingers continued to fuck you brutally. the sounds of your wet pussy filled his office.

"that's what i thought."

your body began to shake as your climax neared. ghost was just way too good at this, with the way his fingers curled precisely where they needed him to and the pressure of his hand against your back.

"ghost....i'm!"

right as you were about to climax, the second you were about to come, ghost withdrew his fingers from you. you looked back at him wildly, your face red. "what...what the fuck..." you nearly sobbed.

ghost slapped your pussy, and you jumped. "you really think i'd let you come that easily?"

you heard the metal of his belt clinking and the soft sound of a zipper being opened. you tried to turn to see his cock, but one of his hands flew to the back of your head and held your head down on the table.

"you stay still," he growled. you had no other choice but to comply, and you did so willingly. he eased the tip of his cock inside your weeping slit, and you gasped. you thought the process was going to be slow, given how slowly he put his tip inside you, but he suddenly thrusted his entire length into you. his gloved hand closed over your mouth before you could scream.

"stay quiet," he rasped in your ear. you could feel his cock twitching in your warm walls. he groaned when you clenched around him. "gonna use this pussy now."

ghost set a brutal pace immediately, his balls hanging down and slapping your wet clit with each thrust. he stayed leaned over you, holding one hand behind your back by your wrist, with his other hand around your mouth. he grunted quietly with each thrust.

"I know you've been wantin' this."

you clenched around him, and he laughed.

"you like it when I'm mean to you," he stated. but you were too far gone to respond. "you like it when I yell at you, when I put you in your place."

you moaned loudly under his hand as your eyes screwed shut.

"can't let a pretty little face like yours make me go soft," he mumbled against the back of your head.

his words faded, and the tip of his cock reached all the way to your cervix as you moaned against his hand. your toes began to lift from the floor as he fucked up into you harder. you gripped the metal desk as hard as you could before you suddenly came hard on his cock. ghost couldn't hold back the strangled moan that escaped him.

"you like comin' around this cock?" he whispered. you nodded vigorously. "gonna cum in this tight pussy."

he thrusted hard into you, the slaps of skin so lewd, a few more times before he came inside you with a groan. he stood above you, panting, as you both came to your senses. he pulled out and immediately pressed two gloved fingers against your slit to prevent his cum from leaking out. you looked back at him, your hair frizzy and face red.

"still think I'm mean to you?"

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