Blondie

roommate!Caitlyn who gets a high score on all her tests. she's the kind of person to fume if she gets a 92 because she made a stupid mistake. "It's not that I got a 92," she hisses angrily, venting to you when you come back home after your classes. "It's that I made a mistake I shouldn't have. How could I be so stupid?"

roommate!Caitlyn who's such a morning person. no matter how much she studies, she's always up early, meal-prepping for the day (or the week — depends how she's feeling). She's always sipping her tea when you wake up and come into the kitchen with messy hair and sleepy eyes

roommate!Caitlyn who loves her true crime shows. If you get home and she's in the common area of your apartment, one will be on. She's reluctant to change it, but ultimately caves if you settle next to her on the couch. "Just let me finish the episode, and we can watch whatever you want."

roommate!Caitlyn who won't admit how much she loves when you fall asleep to whatever's playing on TV. She traces one hand up and down your back, your head resting on her shoulder

roommate!Caitlyn who takes care of you when you're sick. She refuses to let you leave your room (aside from going to the bathroom) and rushes home from her classes to make sure you're okay. Brings you tea and holds your hair back when you puke. She'll stay with you until you fall asleep, gently feeling your forehead to check your temperature

roommate!Caitlyn who gives the best hugs. Whether you're feeling sad or need comfort, or even if she just wants to hug you for no reason, she's there. She wraps you in her arms, resting her chin on your head because she's just so tall. She'll let you stay there as long as you need

roommate!Caitlyn who adores when you cook for her. She grew up with professionally made meals that consisted of her mother chastising her about her grades or her sharpshooting progress. So when you make pasta and the whole apartment smells good and warm, and you set a plate down for her without a second thought, Caitlyn's eyes go soft. You ask her about her day, and she talks for what feels like forever about her law classes and the sharpshooting team and how she was almost late this morning. When she realizes she's been talking for a few minutes, she stops abruptly, not wanting to dominate the conversation. But you just listen and nod, adding bits of commentary here and there, being entirely understanding. This, paired with the warm light and the food you made, makes Caitlyn's heart glow

roommate!Caitlyn who thinks that maybe, just maybe, she's too soft for you

roommate!Caitlyn who helps you zip up your dress when you're going out for some event, gentle fingers brushing against your back. She moves your hair from the back of your neck so she can clasp your necklace, too, and it's so achingly soft that your breath goes just slightly uneven. "You're beautiful," she murmurs when you glance at yourself in the mirror, noticing how she doesn't move from behind you, at first. Her hands slide from your shoulders down your arms, and you can only mumble a "thank you" in return, thankful that your carefully applied blush hides the flush of your cheeks

|------» ~~~ «------|

roommate!Caitlyn who thinks she might like to take that dress right back off you when you get home. But she's scared: scared of crossing your boundaries, scared of messing up your friendship that's so dear to her. So she just smiles when you get back, sitting with you and wrapping band-aids around the blisters you got from your shoes

roommate!Caitlyn who falls asleep imagining you're next to her instead of in your own bedroom. She dreams of what it might be like to come home to your waiting arms, to kiss you whenever she wants, to be able to bury her head between your thighs and leave you flushed and panting

roommate!Caitlyn who has to hold herself back when she comes home early because her last class gets cancelled and hears you touching yourself. You thought she'd be gone longer, didn't hear the door open. Caitlyn hears your muffled sighs and gasps from the other side of your bedroom door, and she seriously considers going in to give you some much needed relief — to take care of you. But she holds back, bites her lip hard and returns to her own room to fantasize in private. Wonders how you'd take her strap, too, but that's neither here nor there

roommate!Caitlyn who doesn't know that you actually hope that, one day, she might do just that: come in and take care of you the way you've been dreaming of for months

A/N: and they were roommates!

i don’t see her as rough all the time. some days she just takes her time with you after a hard tiring day at work, just wanted to eating you out while you play with her hair

she’s into overstimulation. i do NOT care what anyone says. she loves how whiny you get as you gush all over her fingers or strap. how your eyes roll into the back of your head as your thighs shake

caitlyn is a switch but dom leaning. some nights she just wants you to take care of her as she lays back

favorite positions are missionary, so she can keep eye contact with you, and doggy style so she can wrap her hands in your hair to pull you against her chest as she traces your clit

holds your hand. like any position she can, she’ll hold your hand because it comforts you. she’s going down on you even after you’ve came like five times? her hand is holding yours as it rests on your stomach

i think shes a sucker for slow sex tbh… yeah rough is nice but slow, deep thrusts that make you whine lowly as she holds eye contact with you? oh yeah she loves it

god she loves making you sit on her face. loves the way you whine and cry for her while trying to hold yourself but before she forcefully pulls you down onto her face, her tongue pushing inside of you as her nose runs against your clit

likes to wipe your tears as you come down from your high, whispering the sweetest things in your ear, saying how good you were and how much she loves you. you’re her sweet girl and she’ll always remind you

dresses you up in cute lingerie… just to pull it off of you later and ruin you

her aftercare is the best :((

bringing you into her arms and playing with your hair to calm you down. small phrases like “shh.. did so good for me,” coming from her as she kissed your forehead

୨୧ taglist :

It escalates. People tag you in edits of her, and you lean into it, making videos gushing over her because, let’s be real, there’s no way she’ll ever see them. After all, she has social media, but it’s handled by her team. She’s older, more private, and has never publicly talked about being into women. Meanwhile, you’re just a silly influencer with a crush on the unattainable. Or so you think.

One day, you’re invited to the premiere of her latest movie - your dream come true. You get to interview her. When it’s your turn, she surprises you, leaning in with a knowing look you know: “You’re the one who makes those videos, right?” She catches you off guard, and you’re stumbling over apologies. But then she replies again, casually, “I like your content. I’ve been following you for a while."

The internet erupts. Everyone’s talking about how Caitlyn actually knows who you are, how she seemed genuinely charmed by you during the interview. It’s the kind of thing people dream about. But for Caitlyn, it’s more calculated. She’s smart, too smart to let a relationship—especially her first public one—be exposed so easily. Later that night, she sends someone from her team to bring you to the afterparty. It’s discreet, casual, but enough.

It starts with Instagram messages, small conversations that grow into something more. Despite the walls she’s built around her life, you’re charming enough to break through. She’s giggling at your jokes, brushing her hair behind her ear as if she’s not one of the most sought-after actresses in the world. Eventually, she can’t resist, and she asks you out—not for a flashy date, but something quiet and thoughtful, just the two of you.

Caitlyn is not one to flaunt her wealth, but she’s meticulous, researching your likes and interests, piecing together the perfect date. Over time, the connection deepens. Phone calls turn into late-night visits at each other’s homes, and one night, under the soft hum of background music, she leans in, her hands cupping your face as she kisses you. It’s natural.

As the relationship blossoms, you respect her desire for privacy. You post subtle hints on social media—coffee cups at her favorite spot, a new brand of makeup you both love, glimpses of the places you go together. Caitlyn plays along, occasionally posting from the same locations, but always with enough time and space to keep people guessing.

The fans start noticing the small details: her dogs in the background of your Instagram stories, your sweater draped over her shoulders, matching jewelry. It’s a slow burn, a puzzle people piece together over months until the connection is undeniable.

And then, at one of her premieres, it becomes official. You’re by her side, her arm around you, a soft kiss shared in front of the cameras. The world explodes—some people are thrilled, calling it a dream come true. Others doubt it’ll work, citing the differences in your careers and lives. But you don’t care. Caitlyn starts mentioning you in interviews, and every time she does, the audience melts at how deeply she seems to care for you.

ꕮ and you think that's the end of things but then you get stuck in the open half of a prop plane with her. the set is an elaborate platform to showcase the newest alice+olivia spring-summer collection. the two of you swing like a pendulum across the floor, tumbling into one another. her body is lanky, almost awkward, and she smells deeply of iris, lime, and rose.

ꕮ "you smell good," you whisper with a hand on your stomach because you think you might throw up. she smiles, surprised, and you understand exactly why they scouted her.

ꕮ after that, your relationship grows almost lazily like ivy. you run into her everywhere: the grocery store, the members club right across your townhouse, the museum where you went to see the quilt exhibit. one day you just take her hand and interlink it with yours, promising her a delicious bowl of pho and saying that you'll teach her to haggle prices at the little market you're going to after this—the one owned by the khti with kind eyes.

ꕮ she follows you, lets you swallow her, and basks in the solidarity of finding someone who doesn't hate her for once. you find out more: that she's a nepotism baby (her mother is a top designer), that she dislikes a lot of who she walks for but doesn't think she deserves to complain, that she majored in philosophy and military history at university but dropped out in her junior year, that she's been thinking of going back. "go back," you tell her with a soft smile. "i'll go with you."

ꕮ you go back to school together: her to finish her bachelor's, you to get your master's.

ꕮ when you're off-duty, she calls you. it's always at the same time—she's very structured, you notice—which means you always find yourself rushing through the rooms of your home, trying to find where you last tossed your phone.

ꕮ it's 2007 then, so it's a thin slab the color of ice with the logo of the most prominent tech company at the moment. you're always worried you're going to drop it, that you'll lose her, so you memorize her number to call her from a pay phone when you're somewhere different in the world.

ꕮ on call, she tells you about the first time she walked paris fashion week, how her hands wouldn't stop shaking even after she'd made it back behind the curtain. you share your own story of tripping during milan, catching yourself at the last second while your heart drummed against your ribs.

ꕮ "i was there," she tells you, laughing gently. the words cut out a bit as she moves around, and without thinking, you speak to the ache in your chest and say, "i wish you were here."

ꕮ backstage becomes your sanctuary together. you learn to recognize the slope of her shoulders when a designer has been particularly cruel, and she learns exactly how you like your tea when you're running on your fourth show of the day. "chamomile, splash of honey," she murmurs, pressing the warm cup into your hands. her fingers linger against yours longer than necessary.

ꕮ you rest your head on top of her jutting shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as she adjusts the alligator clips in your hair so that you're more comfortable, switching out your perm papers for new ones so the stylists won't yell about the crinkles.

ꕮ there have been many times when you've sobbed into her lap or she into yours, bodies run ragged after doing 10-20 shows in a day or two. it's never too much work to soothe her or for her to coo at you, quieting you until you fitfully fall asleep.

ꕮ you start sharing hotel rooms to save money, but really it's because neither of you can stand the loneliness anymore. you always share a hotel room now with two beds, just for you to wrap around her in only one. these are the best times of travel: caitlyn in her cotton hollister boy shorts and her long-sleeved soccer camp tee, hair lumped into a loose knot at her neck as her chest rises and falls gently with her breath.

ꕮ you huddle closer every night, late at night. you order room service and critique the collections together. she has strong opinions about necklines, and you can spend hours discussing the politics of sizing.

ꕮ sometimes you fall asleep mid-conversation and wake to find her having tucked you in.

ꕮ the industry starts to notice your friendship. "the ice queen has finally thawed," they whisper, and you hate how they talk about her like she's a puzzle to be solved rather than a person. but she just squeezes your hand under the table at fashion week parties and whispers, "let them talk." you realize you'd let them say anything as long as she keeps holding your hand.

ꕮ your first kiss happens in taipei. you're both half-delirious from lack of sleep, sharing a pepper bun in the early morning before shows begin. she has a dot of sauce on her lower lip, and you reach out without thinking, thumb brushing it away and coming to your mouth so that you can suck it clean.

ꕮ "oh," she says softly, and then you're colliding, kissing desperately and tenderly among the crumbs and cups of cucumber water, dawn breaking over the city of azaleas. she breaks away because she can't stop smiling and you can't either, and her hair looks like blue fire in the sunlight. you kiss her again because you can and drag her by the hand down the street, your water sloshing as you try to make it to the show on time.

ꕮ together, you start to imagine a life beyond the runway. she talks about teaching military history to undergraduates, her eyes lighting up as she describes battle strategies and political maneuvering. you sketch out plans for your own vintage styling firm, something small and carefully curated with a tight clientele.

ꕮ "we could do both," she says, and you love how she always includes you in her future.

ꕮ life begins to slow down without either of you meaning for it to. it's subtle at first: you start saying no to castings that don't excite you, and caitlyn realizes she hasn't done a full fashion week in nearly a year.

ꕮ you find yourselves going to the same places more often—your favorite cafe, the record store that still carries CDs, the bookstore where cait always beelines for the history section while you browse vintage magazines.   

ꕮ caitlyn buys a dog before you do—a retired racing greyhound named laguna with eyes too soft for the world. you tease her about how predictable it is, how of course she'd choose a creature as long-limbed and elegant as her. but then you find a pocket bully in a shelter with a wiry coat and the sweetest underbite you've ever seen, and suddenly you have two. your inbox fills with emails from brands who want to feature them instead of you.  

ꕮ there's a video of you and caitlyn sitting on a blanket in central park, sharing a bagel slathered thick with avocado while your dogs sprawl between you. someone posts it on youtube with the title supermodels—THEY'RE JUST LIKE US and suddenly laguna and your little bully (you named her venice) have their own fanbase.

ꕮ people start recognizing you not for the runways, but for the dogs. “cait, i think we’ve peaked," you joke, showing cait a feature in a fashion mag about “all the best supermodels have turned dog moms.”   

ꕮ one day, cait tells you she’s serious about completing her phd. "i think i’m ready," she says, her fingers twisting the hem of your sweatshirt. you kiss her forehead and tell her you've been looking at spaces for your styling firm. "i think i'm ready too."  

ꕮ leaving modeling feels like shedding skin. at first, you both keep a toe in—an editorial here, a campaign there—but eventually, the industry moves on without you, and neither of you mind. 

ꕮ the mornings are slower now, filled with newspaper crossword puzzles and late brunches. your lives feel like the belong more to you than before. sometimes you still wake up expecting to rush to a casting, but then laguna whines at the door, and venice jumps onto the bed, and you remember you don't have to be anywhere except beside her.  

ꕮ you start teaching styling workshops, curating looks for indie films, slowly building your firm from the ground up. caitlyn, true to her word, finishes her degree and starts lecturing. she still paces when she talks, still moves like she’s walking the length of a runway, but now it’s in front of a room full of students who hang onto every word she says about ancient war tactics. 

ꕮ you don’t understand any of it, but still you’re proud of her. you sneak into her lectures with a ball cap that does nothing to disguise you, a polaroid camera in your hands as you take pictures of her for the keepsake box underneath your bed.

ꕮ your home becomes filled with old fashion week spreads pinned open like faded butterflies, shelves lined with history books, and a basket of dog toys that always end up in the middle of the floor. life is lovely. not perfect, but good nonetheless.

ꕮ and then one day, years later, you're walking through a square—maybe in new york, maybe in london—when you look up and see her face on a billboard. it’s an old campaign, maybe one of the last ones she did, and the sight of her, frozen in time, steals the breath from your lungs.   

ꕮ you call her.  

ꕮ "hey, baby,” you say when she picks up. "i just saw you on a billboard."  

ꕮ there's a beat of silence, then her voice, warm and teasing. “wasn’t expecting to hear that bit of news. tell me, was i beautiful all blown up and life-sized?”  

ꕮ you smile, tilting your face toward the sky. "yes. but they don’t know how much more beautiful you are in person."

© hcneymooners.

⚚ notes: for @marieeeluvsyou & @srooch.

10:00pm

"C'monnn Abs," you pout, "it's gonna be so fun!Just take a break for a couple hours!"

Abby watched from the couch in your shared off-campus apartment, one of the many perks of her surgeon dad being loaded, as you applied your sweetly scented lipgloss and attempted to sway her into going to some "great" party with you.

To the blonde, it sounded less than appealing.

She was exhausted from hours of studying for a test she had in a few days and was not in the mood to hang around a bunch of drunk and horny college students. It wasn't exactly her idea of fun on a Tuesday night.

"Bet it will be fun."

"Mhm," you hummed in confirmation while rubbing your glossy pink lips together.

"i'm sure the drunk frat guys who get to grind on you and call it dancing will have a real blast!" she flashed you a smug smile and turned her eyes back to her computer. You rolled your eyes and slipped on a pair of short off white heels, choosing to ignore her remark.

You walk over to where your best friend is laying, clad in grey sweatpants and a sports bra. Looking up, Abby tucks the stray blonde hair splayed in her face behind her ear so she could watch as you give her a quick twirl to show off your outfit.

"How do I look?" you ask, beaming at her with a confident smile.

She eyed your outfit with a smile that matched yours and took the opportunity to snatch you by the waist, pulling you to straddle her muscular form. The familiar sent of your "Pink Swayed' Bath and Body Works perfume instantly filling her senses.

"Mmm...like you should be in my bed," she murmured while planting kisses up your neck, “instead of going to a party that happens like thrice a week." The end of her sentence was whispered onto your lips, making your cheeks flush at the intimacy. "Abbyyy," you whined, suddenly shy. "watch the makeup!"

"Oh I'm sooo s-" a knocking at the door interrupted her teasing and you scurried off her lap. Abby groaned in annoyance at this, throwing her head back into the cushion dramatically while you smoothed your skirt back down and opened the door to reveal an impatient dealer on the other side.

"Hey, uh.. you ready? Jess n D are already in the car."

"Yeah one sec Els, just let me grab my purse." Ellie stepped inside while she waited, making the relatively small living room smell of weed, something she had no doubt you would scold her for later. 'As if you don't have a million fucking scented candles' Ellie had said to you after you last lectured her.

"Staying home, Anderson? Do you ever get tired of having no bitches?" She snickered at the bigger girl.

"I don't know, you tell me." Abby retorted without even glancing at her, well used to getting at it with the girl and not interested in humoring her at the moment.

"Got it! I'm ready to go!" You scurried back into the living space with your bag in hand. Ellie was already halfway out the door, waiting for you to follow behind her.

"Hey, i'm here if you need a ride, yeah? be safe." Abby reminded as you swung the mini purse over your shoulder. "I mean it."

"I always ammm," you sang, shutting the door behind you.

Around 1:00am

The party was awful.

The mixed smell of weed, Pink Whitney, and sweat lingered around you, making you outwardly cringe. In all honestly, parties weren't you favorite thing. You mostly just went for the free booze and the chance to let loose with friends between school work. Other than that, they tended to be a drag.

And almost all the times you did enjoy yourself, Abby was there with you.

You really had fun with her, you felt safe knowing she was just a few feet away, and sometimes you just enjoyed watching her have a good time, as she did you.

Though at the moment, that was the opposite of how you were feeling. You were getting hot sweaty and bored and maybe you had a few drinks too many. Not to mention the uncomfortable feeling of the eyes of a group of frat boys on you, even after you shot down each of their advances for a 'good time upstairs. Downing your 5th drink of the night, you were starting to regret your choice to come, just wanting the night to be over with so you could go home to your best friend.

But of course Jesse, who was supposed to be the DD for the night, bailed and instead got drunk off his ass. Currently he was making out with Dina in a corner with like the three other couples who were doing the same. Great. And there's no use in asking Ellie to drive you as she was in the fucking clouds by now and busy dealing on a dirty looking couch. Not to mention the random girl with fake gold hoops that sat on her lap and looked like she was ready to bite anyone that got too close.

Deciding to call it a night, you text dina your goodbyes, letting her know you will find a ride home while shoving through the crowd of sweaty college students to make your exit.

Unbuckling your heels, you take a seat on a curb outside the house. Cold, trashed, and holding your head in your hands in attempt to pull yourself together so you didn't hurl up the pre-party snacks you had in the car while searching for Abby's number in your phone.

You could literally quote Abby's voicemail word for word by the fifth unanswered call. You did everything under the damn sun to contact your roommate, but to no avail. It was so unlike her.

Eventually giving up, assuming she had fallen asleep given her long week, you resort to shamefully pressing call on every contact in your phone thats lives close by, until someone picks up and refusing to pay for an uber at that hour. You should honestly feel more embarrassed than you do, considering that now your cousin's friend of a friend that lives a few blocks away is on her way to pick you up at 1 am on a school night.

You did your best not to sweat Abby not picking up, knowing you already weren't thinking very straight, but while continuing to wait on the grimy curb, the thoughts still lingered as Abby was not one to take your safety lightly. if you needed her, she was there.

But when your ride arrived all thoughts vanished as you stood up and nearly face planted into the car door.

11:42pm

Abby was beat.

After you left, she opted to study some more. Something you had scolded her about and strictly told her not to do, because she needed a break. And it turns out you were right because even after two cups of coffee (and 2 and half 'motivational' shots of tequila), the drowsiness was consuming her. But she had to pass this test or she wouldn't meet the pre-requisites for a class she really needed to take.

Thudding her head against the desk and glancing at the lit up clock on her phone, she finally decided to take a short breather from the books. Scrolling on Instagram through her friends beach pics and photo dumps, she came across a picture that you posted an hour ago.

Abby stared at the semi-blurry image of you on her screen.

She wasn't sure if it was the liquor or just how hot you were making her feel this way but, FUCK, she was horny.

Seemingly right on time her phone buzzes with a text.

i miss you baby. you home?

Fucking Scarlet. They dated for 8 months before things fizzled out. and by fizzled out, Scarlet told her she never really wanted anything serious. she wanted to go back to being fuck buddies. No feelings involved. Abby saw her only a few times after that and hasn’t spoken to her since. so yeah. fizzled out more or less.

And Abby knows she shouldn't respond. She really does. You guys have a good..whatever it was going right now and getting back in contact with her ex certainly wouldn't blow over well with you. She likes you. And to her it was worth it to continue being only friends with benefits if it meant not screwing up what you already had by telling you she had real feelings for you.

The two of you may not be dating, but Abby knew your jealousy well. Even if you always denied feeling so. And hell, Abby was the same way. You had no idea how watching you sway and giggle at parties knowing other people were looking too made her skin burn.

But her rational thoughts didn't last more than a minute in her horny and tipsy mind. With her studies long forgotten, she texts back.

ya im home.

come over.

You felt them before you saw them. They had hunted you before, night after night, as if drawn by some unspoken bond, their presence haunting your dreams and shadowing your waking hours. Each time, you managed to escape—barely slipping through their grasp, hiding in shadows and narrow alleyways. But anyone who dared to listen to your whispered fears, those few brave enough to heed your warnings, either mocked you or, worse, woke up dead. Now, standing alone under the canopy of ancient trees, you felt that familiar shiver crawl over your skin—a sick intuition that you were no longer alone.

Your fingers tightened around the dagger in your hand, its edge glinting under the pale moonlight. It was your last defense, your only comfort as you backed away, surrounded by the towering trees. But then, a cold hand snaked around your arm, freezing you in place, its touch delicate but unyielding. You looked down to find a hand with slender fingers, cool and pale as porcelain. “Leaving so soon?” a voice murmured, low and velvety, as if savoring every word. The voice alone was enough to make your heart stammer, sending an electric shiver down your spine.

You turned, your gaze falling on a brunette with piercing green eyes—Ellie. Her gaze pinned you in place, both beautiful and deadly, like a predator savoring its prey. Those green eyes were otherworldly, almost too perfect for something as flawed as a human—if she could even be called one. The slight smirk on her lips hinted at amusement, as if she found your resistance charming.

Before you could react, another presence pressed against your back—a taller, more commanding figure whose strength radiated from every inch of her body. Abby, the blonde, whose hair seemed to drink in the moonlight like it was made of silver, rested a firm hand on your shoulder, her grip a strange blend of gentleness and strength. You barely got a proper glance at her, but you could feel the power radiating from her, the unspoken promise that you would go nowhere. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, her warm breath ghosting against your neck. Her voice was a sultry purr that sent a shiver through you, both terrifying and undeniably thrilling.

Ellie’s fingers traveled up, reaching your chin as she tilted your head, forcing your neck to arch, baring the vulnerable pulse beneath your skin. She leaned in, her lips just a whisper away from your throat, close enough that you could feel her cool breath tickle your skin. “Are you afraid?” she whispered, her voice a dark, teasing melody. The dagger slipped from your hand, falling into the soft earth with a muted thud as Ellie’s fingers tightened around your wrist, her grip effortlessly taking away any hope of escape.

Behind you, Abby’s hand slid from your shoulder to your waist, her touch steady but hungry, as if the mere feel of you under her fingers could soothe a gnawing ache. Her gaze held an almost reverent longing, her lips parting as her eyes traced over you. She was reserved, composed, but the raw hunger in her gaze was impossible to miss—a hunger that was barely restrained.

They exchanged a glance over your shoulder, a silent conversation, a wordless agreement that passed between them with predatory ease. Abby’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, until your back was flush against her chest. The scent of her, dark and intoxicating, filled your senses, making you dizzy. Her other hand found its way to your neck, pressing you gently against her as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the edge of your jaw, her fangs grazing your skin just enough to leave a faint, tingling line.

Ellie’s hands traveled to your hips, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles, her gaze darkening as she drank in your nervousness and your unwilling excitement. Her lips parted, and her breath feathered against your skin as she whispered, “We’ve waited so long for this.” Her fingers moved upward, pressing your neck gently, just enough to send another thrill through you, anchoring you in the horror and ecstasy of the moment.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—caught between the two of them, their cold hands and warm breaths overwhelming you. Abby’s hands slid lower, brushing against your stomach, her touch a ghostly caress that left a trail of anticipation. Her yellow-tinged eyes, filled with a dangerous yearning, met Ellie’s own dilated pupils, her gaze gleaming with barely-contained hunger.

Ellie leaned in first, her lips finding the pulse at your neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin before her fangs grazed your throat. A shiver ran through you as her tongue flicked out, tasting you, savoring the warm rush of your skin. She sucked gently, a mockery of affection, her lips leaving faint marks as if to mark you as hers. Her fangs pierced your skin, sending a sharp, hot pain through you, and you gasped, the sensation both agonizing and oddly euphoric.

As a quiet whine escaped your lips, Abby’s hand cupped your face, turning you toward her, her fingers brushing your cheek with a gentleness that almost felt like love. Her gaze softened just a fraction as she looked down at you, her lips parting in a tender smile, her thumb brushing your lip in a gesture so intimate it left you breathless. “Shh,” she murmured, her voice a soothing lull. She leaned in, her lips finding yours, pressing a kiss so soft, so heartbreakingly gentle, that it left you trembling.

But the kiss only lasted a moment before her hunger overcame her restraint. Abby’s lips left yours, and her fangs pressed against your skin, right where Ellie’s bite had begun to fade. She bit down, harder, less restrained than Ellie, her grip on you unyielding as she drank deeply, each pull sending a wave of weakness through you, mingled with a strange, haunting euphoria.

You could feel them draining you, your heartbeat slowing, your vision blurring, as their hunger claimed you. The pain had softened into something strange, something that mingled with the intensity of their touch, the weight of their gaze, the cool caress of their fingers on your skin. You felt yourself slipping away, and yet, you weren’t afraid anymore.

You were theirs now, bound to them by blood and the dark thrill that pulsed between you.

The pleasure growing from the slightest touches over your pussy only makes the blood sweeter, more addictive.

You lay between them, naturally held by their bodies. Their fangs suck on each side of your neck, Ellies hand rubbing your clit while Abby massages your nipples, her cold arms hugging you still from the stomach. Her elbows almost hit into your ribs.

You whine and cry, not really because of the pain but because of how bad you need them and how ashamed you are for your sins. The pretty necklace on your neck shining- it was blinding at first. Their presence is as good as their touch and the praise of it all. "Please-" Ellie's nails pierce into your clavicle, her fangs deep into your neck, you can feel it's too deep this time by the obscene slurp of it and the warmth of your blood now runing threatening fast down your skin. And you get dizzy, the little light blinding until Abby's hands leave your nipples to go down you pussy, this time beneath the clothes.

You're so wet and she laughs at it, mocks you silently. Her fingers scissor your folds until she thrusts at you with ease. Each of them accompanied by the slap of her hand against your clit. "Look at you.... so sweet for us, baby. Such a good fucking girl." Ellie craddles your face sweetly.

Your blood drips down her own neck, almost matching you. It's truly the sweetest sight one can die to.

The most difficult times of the month were full moons and blood lusts. Naturally, they had to fall on the same date this month.

“So fuckin’ irritating,” Ellie growled. She was kneeling next to the bed, her hands behind her back and her pink collar wrapped snuggly around her neck. Each time she moved slightly, the bell on the collar rang and made her face heat up in embarrassment.

“Does the mutt ever shut up?” Abby mumbled. She was sat behind you, holding your back to her chest and licking long stripes up your neck causing you to shiver.

She was getting desperate, and that made you want to force her to wait even longer. But denying her meant denying yourself, and you didn’t like the idea of that.

“Don’t call me that!” Ellie snapped.

Abby muffled a laugh against your neck. Her favourite game is riling Ellie up, especially before she transforms. Whenever Ellie and Abby’s events fall on the same date, once Ellie transforms and Abby lets her bloodlust fully take control of her, they fight. It’s a good way for Ellie to get her energy out and for Abby to control herself because apparently, werewolf blood tastes like ‘trash’.

Your thumb swipes against Abby’s lips and her mouth falls open. You trace her fangs, and she hisses softly. Her fangs are always sensitive.

“Are you going to be able to control yourself tonight?” You questioned.

Abby has been alive for centuries and have experienced more blood lusts than years you have lived. She’s learnt to control herself, but sometimes you get nervous.

“Of course,” She whispered, “But if I can’t Ellie is here.”

The bell on Ellie’s collar rung at the mention on her name.

You looked at Ellie. She looked so adorable. Her thighs were covered in slick and there was a puddle of slick on the floor between her thighs. Her sex drive and arousal levels were heightened when it was a full moon, and you fought the urge to tease her for it.

You patted the empty spot between your thighs, “Hop up,”

Ellie eagerly climbed onto the bed. She positioned herself to be laying between thighs and looked up at you with awaiting eyes. Her hair had gotten thicker and eyes larger.

Now, you looked at Abby. Her eyes were locked on your neck.

“Be gentle.” You told her.

She was not gentle. You cried out in pain as she dug her fangs into your neck and her grip around your body tightened. Ellie was quick to react, her lips wrapped around her clit and two fingers pushed into your weeping hole. The pain slightly outweighed the pleasure.

Finally, Abby’s venom entered your blood system. Vampire venom is used for many things, one of them being for sex. The venom causes immense pleasure and forces your brain into a haze.

Abby groaned against you and blood drippled down your neck. Her fingernails dug into your sides, and you whimpered.

“Oh fuck, Ellie.” You moaned and buried your fingers in her hair, tugging her closer.

Everything was overwhelming. You never last long when Abby is drinking from you and Ellie is between your thighs.

Abby pulled her fangs from your neck and licked over the bite. Her saliva heals you faster. You thought she was done drinking, but she dug her fangs back into you.

Ellie’s fingers relentlessly pumped into you, and she bit your clit softly. Her piercing green eyes didn’t leave yours. It was fucking incredible how she fucked you. Your slick was dripping down her wrist and onto the bed, and her face was covered.

Your orgasm unexpectedly hit you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched. Pathetic moans and whimpers left your throat. You tried to push Ellie’s head away from you as you were already overstimulated, but she tightened her grip around you.

Again, Abby pulled her fangs out and licks over the bite. Her grip on you loosened, then tightened again. She was fighting herself.

“Ellie,” She mumbled.

Whatever Ellie had said, it was muffled.

“Ellie,” Abby snapped.

That caused Ellie to pull away from you. Her face and arm were drenched in your slick. 

You wanted to whine and cry about your approaching orgasm being ruined, but you know they couldn’t control it.

Ellie pulled you into a kiss and you moaned into her mouth at the taste of yourself. You both panted as you pulled away.

Abby stood from the bed and that’s when you noticed how close she was to losing control. Her eyes were red, and her face was covered in your blood. Her tongue darted out and licked some of the blood on her lips. She was waiting for Ellie.

You took Ellie’s collar off and gave her a quick kiss. Ellie grinned and stood from the bed, offering her slick-covered fingers to Abby, who denied them. She shrugged and shoved them in her mouth, licking herself clean.

In a blood lust, Abby is always closed off. She was just trying to control herself from going wild on you, so you never took it to heart.

They both left the room, Ellie looking back at you sadly. She preferred to be with you when she transformed. It comforted her.

The venom was still buzzing in your system and your post-orgasm made your brain feel hazy. A yawn left your throat, and you buried yourself under the comforter. It was probably a biohazard to sleep in a blood and cum covered bed, but you didn’t want to move.

You closed your eyes and sighed. They’ll be back once you wake up.

-

a/n; if ive used bloodlust in the wrong way...ummm mb