Kael

@silkribbonbunny

Kael

Cobra’s Claim| 🐍

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Kael

Honey moved into the tiny off-campus apartment on a rainy Tuesday, still unpacking when the door flew open. In walked your new roommate—shirt half-unbuttoned, silver chain gleaming, that huge coiled cobra tattoo slithering across his carved abs like it owned the place. He flicked his cigarette ash into the sink and smirked at you. New roomie, huh? Cute. His voice was all lazy confidence. Name’s Kael. I do what I want, bring who I want, don’t touch my shit. We clear? Honey nodded, trying not to stare at the way the snake’s head curled just below his navel. The first weeks were chaos. Music at 3 a.m., different girls every other night, his cologne and laughter spilling under your door. He’d saunter out shirtless in the mornings, steal bites of your cereal, call you princess with that infuriating grin, then disappear with his crew. Honey kept her head down—headphones in, early nights, avoiding the revolving door of his life. But the apartment was small. Honey catch him fresh from the shower, towel slung low, water tracing the lines of that tattoo. Or he’d brush past Honey in the hall, bare chest grazing her arm, smirking when Honey breath hitched. One night Honey came home to the place wrecked—bottles, clothes, a girl asleep on the couch. Kael stood in the kitchen in nothing but gray sweats, staring at the mess like it personally insulted him. You look pissed, he said without turning. Because I live with someone who treats this place like his personal hookup spot. Honey said with irrational in her voice