#for people desperate to clear curses

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then I noticed the entire wind farm was broken again. *sigh* Well, nothing to do but Repairio the lot. Again. *grumbles* At least all that spell slinging got Victor another Talent point! I had him start his new potion while I chose his new Talent – and as he’s been spending a lot of time on Alchemy lately, “Potent Potables” to give his potions extra oomph when drunk seemed like a good choice. I then took a moment to check in on Smiler and get them to drink some plasma fruit and a plasma pack (the latter they insisted on drinking on the back porch couch with one of the cats – Alice ate her waffles there too, as you can see. Can’t say this family does not love their pets!), before sending them to harvest the coconuts, soy beans, and garlic from the greenhouse, and put some plasma fruit in the (reset) juice fizzer (as I was hoping using it would encourage it to stay functional – seems to be working so far!). I was just getting ready to have Smiler super-sell the rest of the greenhouse when I checked back in on Victor –

-->And found him standing over a cauldron of a worryingly black liquid with red mushroom clouds coming out of it. Three things then happened in quick succession –

I. I got a notice from the game that Victor had picked up the Curse of Repulsiveness from a failed potion, as Victor himself turned green and warty. Shit – should have gone with the “Hexproof” Talent!

II. I got a notice from the game that Victor’s potion had failed, but he HAD managed to get a Bottle of Questionable Contents from the failure.

III. I got a notice from the game that Victor had successfully completed an aspirational milestone and thus had completed his New Year’s resolution!

Yes, apparently failing his Potion of Nausea and getting a bottle of – stuff counted as brewing another potion to the game! XD Well, I happily took it, as did Victor. Once he woke up after fainting from the fumes of his vile potion. XD And the curse was no big deal, as Victor has LOADS of aspiration points, and thus was easily able to buy himself some Potion of Curse Cleansing and down it to clear the curse. (That should PROBABLY be more expensive in the rewards store, but currently not complaining.)

-->Anyway – with Victor’s curse cleansed, and Smiler having cleared out his cauldron for him while he was unconscious, I sent him to join Alice for a nap (she’d already zoomed off to bed earlier for a snooze after having her waffles and taking care of business afterward), while Smiler super-sold the greenhouse and then flew up to their party barn area to practice mixology – after all, they did have a house party to rock that afternoon! Alice woke up first – I had her go talk to Smiler’s Sixam Mosquito plant Snappy, as per her wants, then sent her downstairs and, eventually, got her to take Shadow for a jog to both make the dog happy and continue working on her Fitness. Smiler then got their Plasma Fizz and started work on some Strawberry Fizz while Victor got up, Repairioed a busted water collector, and cleaned up some dishes and such around the house –

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #I love how my attitude toward the wind farm is 'oh look all the turbines have broken again' #seriously they break SO MUCH #I guess it's good for training both Victor's magic AND his Handiness depending on what I'm feeling #but sheesh cut us a break here #I do find it amusing that both Alice and Smiler insisted on snacking on the outside porch #next to the kitties #like we have a perfectly good dining table #but no couch and cats #even more amusing is that FAILING to brew a potion still counted as 'brewing a potion' to the game #probably because Victor still got a flask of SOMETHING out of it #along with a curse #but yes the Potion Of Curse Cleansing is pretty easy for him to get #do feel like it should be more expensive #like I can understand WHY it's a rewards store thing #for people desperate to clear curses #but still -- your Sim should have to have a decent stockpile of points to buy it #ah well no big deal #look at how good Smiler's gotten at balancing bottles instead #they are a master! #need to have them make drinks more often just for the fun animations #it's very them #queued

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii can I get whiskey w Steve Rogers for oral/face riding?

Adjusting.

warnings - smut. cursing.

nomad steve makes me feral. that's all. I was feeling this one.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's adjusting, to this new life.

He's shy. Taking it one day at a time. Reminding himself to breathe when things get overwhelming.

Soon, he finds his feet. Regains his confidence. Starts asking for things, setting boundaries, taking what he wants a little more.

He keeps surprising you. With his knowledge, new slang he uses, his ability to use a phone. He's a fast learner.

He's braver, now.

He's adjusting.

Trying to get used to the fact that women aren't as seemingly fragile as they were. They run the world more openly, now, and Steve loves it.

He loves you.

Tries to show you how much when he's got you between his sheets, kissing every inch of skin he can find. Gentle, tender, careful.

You tell him that you know he loves you, no matter what. He doesn't have to be so tentative. It doesn't change the way you look at him.

He's in a lust fuelled haze when he finds the courage.

"Sit on my face."

You choke on your breath, gasping for air.

"What?"

"You heard me, honey. Sit on my face. Now."

You've never seen him like this. Frayed at the edges, feral almost. His eyes are as dark as the wet spot between your legs.

You quirk a brow at him in challenge, but he doesn't back down. So you grant him his wish. Crawling up his body until you're hovering over his pretty face, deep gaze focused on you.

"Is this what you want?" you whisper.

"More than anything."

He's practically growling, voice lower and rougher than you've ever heard it. You owe a thanks to whatever has got him so riled up.

He tugs you down to his mouth with two strong hands around your thighs, grip hard enough that you know you'll bruise tomorrow. You can't wait.

You tangle your fingers through his golden blonde locks and tug, whining when he groans, from the depths his chest. The two of you are animalistic, finally tapping into the carnal desires that have been there all along.

You're practically riding the gorgeous ridge of his nose, reveling in the way his tongue slips inside and curls. He might not have much experience with this, but he's always been naturally gifted. He's one of those people that's good at everything.

He's groaning, humming, murmuring, enjoying this just as much as you are. Your hands almost splinter the headboard, skin pulled taut across tense knuckles. You're so close you can taste it, honey sweet and saccharine.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl. Come on my face, honey. Please."

It's the broken please that gets you, the desperation in his tone and the tightening grip on your hips. You see stars, dizzying and clear, blood rushing to your head. Steve doesn't let up, determined to see how pretty you look when he finally pushes you to your limit.

You collapse against his chest, leaning into his touch like a kitten. Rough fingertips trace patterns across your back, your arms, your hips. He's waiting for you to give him the green light.

You kiss him with force, tongue sliding into his mouth with no room for protest. You bite his lip and grin. America's golden boy. Lying under you with your come smeared across his face.

He leans up to whisper in your ear, rough tone filled with promise and mischief.

"I love you," he murmurs, tongue gliding across your neck. "Let me fuck you like I don't."

You've never been one to deny him. You're not about to start now.

He's adjusting, after all.

#murphy's 3k celebration #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #captain america x reader #captain america smut

[ham-st4r]

Cyber sex - L.HS

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: heeseung is 32, smut, anal sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, phone sex, cam sex, oral both receiving, fingering, sexting, cum eating, ear licking, spitting, dirty talk, use of tinder, skype instagram and FaceTime, mutual masturbation, cursing, use of sex toys and lube, heeseung is cringey and clingy and awkward but it’s cute, angst, crying, fluff, heeseung says stop once but he doesn’t really want you to.

Genre: smut, long distance relationship, slightly inspired by cyber sex from doja cat.

Summary: after heeseung comes home from a long day at the office, he quickly gets bored and finds himself scrolling through the Tinder app that he made an account on a few days prior, and much to his surprise, he had gotten a notification that he had found a match.

Wordcount: 19,546k

All I can say is sorry for the long wait. I hope everyone will enjoy!

This is complete fiction by no means can you go on tinder and find yourself a hee so please stay away from that app (I mean it)

After a hard day's work, all heeseung wanted to do was take a shower and relax on his comfy king sized bed in his house, and that's exactly what he did once he got home.

He quickly made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his suit and tie before stepping into the warm stream of water, he sighs in relief as the water cascaded down his tired, aching muscles. Despite what most people may think, sitting down at a desk all day definitely takes its toll on one’s body.

He grabbed his favorite shampoo, lathering his hair with it and washing away all the stress from the day, the faint smell of mint clearing his sinuses as he massaged the sudsy liquid through his wet hair.

A few minutes later, he rinsed his hair out and lathered his body with matching body wash, covering himself in the fragranced gel. He then grabbed his body scrubber, washing himself thoroughly before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower.

He towel-dried his hair and body before walking to his bedroom and grabbing a clean white shirt and a pair of boxers from his drawer.

Once he was completely dry, he put his clothes on and hopped into bed, peeling back his covers and tucking himself in, reaching for the TV remote and clicking the power button, watching the first show that piqued his interest.

After an hour, he started to feel bored, which wasn’t unusual. He lived in his big house all alone and didn’t have any friends after graduating college. He just didn’t have time to hang out and party the way he used to. Not to say he really missed it though, back then he was a young adult, but now that he’s a grown man, he realized there was so much more to life than drinking and women.

On top of everything else, after 8-10 hour work days, he just didn’t have the energy to attend any social gatherings to meet new people, so needless to say, he was a homebody.

But living this kind of life every day after landing his dream job was starting to get old. Don’t get him wrong, he’d never go back to his wild college days, but thoughts of settling down and having a wife and a child or two or more definitely had been crossing his mind as he was reaching his mid-thirties.

He sighed and slumped further down in his bed, grabbing his phone once the TV show had ended.

Just then, a notification from Tinder popped up on the top of his screen.

What can he say? He was lonely and maybe even a little bit desperate at this point.

He clicked on the notification and, saw that he had a match, and nervously started a chat.

He debated on what to say as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. Gosh, he hasn’t realized just how out of touch he was with everything.

Before he could leave a message, another alert on his phone went off,slightly startling him.

You: Hi handsome 💕

You nervously typed on your phone, waiting for the guy that swiped on you to respond. You were surprised someone that looked like him was even on Tinder. He was tall, good, looking a co-CEO, and a decent age, which was appealing cause you were tired of dealing with little boys that called themselves men, and to top it all off, he didn’t live that far away.

He made a sound similar to a mouse when he read the message, and he felt his face heat up at your blunt text. The last time he’s been called handsome was by his grandmom last Thanksgiving. “Relax,” he rolled his eyes at himself for acting like a preteen. It was just a simple text, and he was already getting flustered for no reason. You were just a girl that he met online.

A very, very pretty girl he met online.

Heeseung: Hey

He only realized just how boring and bland that sounded once he had hit send. “Ugh,” he buried his head into his pillows.

You happily looked at the notification on your phone, and you can’t lie how excited you got when he replied so quickly, but your excitement soon deflated when you saw his reply. Maybe you were already reading too much into it, but he didn’t seem to reciprocate your same excitement.

You: How are you?💕

You sent back, kinda unsure of how to approach him after his seemingly uninterested reply.

Heeseung: Good, how about you?👀

He sighed. If he wanted to keep you interested, he definitely needed to up his texting game.

You: Good

you reply simply.

“What happened to the little hearts?” He frowned slightly at your reply that wasn’t accompanied by emojis like the first few texts were, and now he was getting nervous because he didn’t know what to say next to keep you on the line.

He scrolled through your bio again, looking for something to strike up a conversation.

The first thing he saw was that you liked animals, so he quickly decided on that topic so he wouldn’t keep you waiting for a reply.

Heeseung: So you like animals?

You just blinked at your screen when you saw his message and no wonder he was single. If his conversation was this bad in real life, you wouldn’t be surprised if he died single.

You: Yeah hbu?

You reply back just as dryly.

Heeseung: Yes, I’m quite the animal myself😏

He attempted to flirt, but it came out sounding entirely wrong.

You read his reply over and over again, and you couldn’t reply with anything but.

You: ??????

If he could go back in time, he definitely would cause he was going to die of embarrassment any moment now.

Heeseung: I meant in bed…..

You: Oohhhhhhhhh

You replied in between a fit of laughter that was probably the lamest thing you have ever read, but you couldn’t deny it made you laugh, and somehow it was even kinda endearing in an odd way, not to mention the smirking face emoji he sent along with it was amusing, to say the least.

He face-palmed himself before texting you again.

Heeseung: You know what? I’m sorry, just forget about that.

Heeseung: Or better yet, I’ll just leave you alone.

Heeseung: Nice meeting you.

He stuffed his phone under his pillow, burying his face in his covers. “And that’s why you’re single,” he mutters to himself. He didn’t realize just how much he actually sucked at talking to women. It was a lot easier in high school, or maybe it was easier cause he looked better in high school, and the girls didn’t care that he had no game. Who knows? All he knows is that he just blew his chance with a beautiful girl who showed interest in him.

But it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe someone else would swipe right on him, and he could learn from this god awful experience on this god awful app.

After your small fit of laughter died down, you texted him back.

You: I don’t think I’ll ever forget that one. I might even have to use it one day🤔😂

Heeseung was brought back to reality when his phone buzzed with another notification from you. He didn’t even want to read it, but he did anyway, and he cringed at himself even more.

Heeseung: Please don’t. Wouldn’t want you to willingly embarrass yourself like that,

He texted and didn’t even realize there was a small smile on his face. At least he made you laugh, though.

You: So, do you always refer to yourself as an animal when you talk to girls?

You chuckled slightly and got more comfortable on your bed now that the conversation was interesting.

Heeseung: Only pretty ones, was that better?👀

He asks you jokingly.

You: Maybe just a little bit

You smile, and you can’t believe he’s making you all giggly with his cheesy pickup lines.

Heeseung: I’ll try harder next time😂

You: Next time?

Heeseung: I mean, only if you want to talk again. If you don’t, I completely understand 😅 Haha,

He can’t lie the idea of messing up his shot with you wasn’t sitting all too well with him. You were exactly his type. You were both looking for the same thing, and he had to go and ruin it by saying something stupid.

You: If there’s a chance I can get some flirting tips, then I’d definitely like to talk again🤭

Heeseung: I can assure you there’s plenty more, but as you know you have to work for a tip so….

You: I’ve never been scared of a little work😉

Heeseung: I like that 😌

You: What else do you like?

Heeseung: Hmm… girls who like animals

You: You’re getting better already.

Heeseung: What can I say? I’m a fast learner.

You: What should I do with that information? 😝

Heeseung: That’s up to you, beautiful 😉

You: *Blushing*

Heeseung: And I’m not even trying hard.

You: Oh, is that so? Maybe you should🤭

Heeseung: Yeah? Want me to go harder, beautiful?

You’re not sure when the conversation steered in this direction, but you can’t say you weren’t enjoying it.

You: Go your hardest

you taunted.

Heeseung: I don’t think you’re sure of what you’re asking, doll face.

He had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but he liked it.

You: Well, maybe you can show me sometime? Just so I can be sure.

He bit his lip at just the thought he’d definitely be down for that after getting to know you better.

Heeseung: I’d love to show you sometime.

The rest of heeseung’s night was spent talking and flirting with you. You both agreed to share Instagrams after hours of talking to each other and getting to know one another.

Luckily, he had redeemed himself along the way and was able to hold a smooth conversation without being too awkward.

You: It’s late. You should probably get some rest now since you have work in the morning.

You say to him.

Heeseung: Trying to get rid of me already? And here I am, thinking that we’re bonding :(

You: Noooooooo 🥺 It’s just you need to rest so your face can be even more handsome in the morning.

Heeseung: That was supposed to be my line😞

You: Well, you can use it on me tomorrow night

You reply, hoping that he will message you tomorrow cause you had a lot of fun talking to him.

Heeseung: I definitely will. Well, I guess you’re right. Make sure you get some rest, too, okay? I’ll try to message you before work if I don’t sleep in too late😂

You: Okay! Talk to you Tomorrow. Goodnight, heeseung sweet dreams💕

Heeseung: I can’t wait to talk to you again goodnight y/n 🩵

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t kicking his feet like a schoolgirl before bed.

➜ ➜ ➜

Heeseung: Morning, beautiful🩵

Heeseung texted you as soon as he opened his eyes. It was really early in the morning, so he wasn’t expecting you to reply so quickly, but he wasn’t complaining either.

You smile at the conversation from last night and his latest text.

You: Morning, handsome💕

He smiled and got out of bed, running the shower while he texted you back.

Heeseung: I’m headed off to work now, but I’ll message you again when I get off if you’re free later?👀

You: Me too. I get out at three, so anytime after then is fine if that’s fine with you?

Heeseung: That’s perfect for me! ☺️

You: Great! ttyl enjoy your shift💕

Heeseung: You too, pretty girl😉

You hearted the message he sent and scrambled to get ready for work with a smile on your face.

With your fast-paced life, it was hard to get out of the house truthfully, too many meetings stacked on business trips and extra hours during hectic weeks.

You felt like you never got a breather. You had gone about this same routine for years, and though you absolutely loved your job, even you had to admit you didn’t have a life outside of work.

And your friends made sure to remind you of that every girl's night out, always talking about what guy they fucked and if he was good in bed or not, and while you knew they were just having fun, it sucked not to have any steamy stories of your own so you could be apart of that conversation.

You hadn’t had any in ages, and the last time was so disappointing cause right when you were about to do the deed, he passed out from drinking too much.

And that wasn’t much of a story to tell.

You wanted some action but didn’t have the time for it, not just so you could be a part of the girl talk, but you really just wanted some interaction with the opposite gender, and after seeing one too many Tinder ads pop up in your face, it was like even the internet was telling you that you were single and pathetic and you needed help to find someone.

So, deciding to download the god-awful app after pondering on it for a while turned out to be not so god-awful, at least not yet. Anyways, you matched with a ton of guys, not to toot your own horn, but so far, only one caught your interest. His name was heeseung, and he was exactly your ideal type, so you matched with him. and you know It’s only been a day, but so far, so good.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Heeseung: Hi! I’m on break. I hope your shift is going well so far.

He hit send, before he could even shut off his phone, you replied, making him smile instantly.

You: Hey, it’s going well, thanks for asking. What about you?

You smiled as you sent the text, feeling happy that he kept his word and texted you back like he said he would.

You: btw I’m on break too👀

You sent a follow-up message.

Heeseung: Oh nice, maybe we could talk for a bit if you’re okay with it?

You: Sure, I’m bored out of my mind🙄

Heeseung: Same. I’m always bored, and the food in the break room leaves a lot to be desired 😒

You: Sounds like we work at the same place 🤭

Heeseung: I wish. I wanna meet you 👀

One of your co-workers approached you before you could read his message. “Only two more hours,” he grumbled while making some coffee to get him through the rest of the day.

“We’ll make it. We always do,” you chuckled as he sighed and rested his hands on his head while his coffee was brewing.

Heeseung: I’m sorry, that was probably too soon

He sends back when he sees that you stopped responding even though his message was clearly left on seen.

Heeseung: I swear I’m not a creep or anything like that

He sighed after realizing that made him sound creepier.

Heeseung: Never mind that last message and the one before that 😬

He triple texted cause he was overthinking things. He didn’t think that maybe you might have gotten busy with something, and that’s why you didn’t reply immediately.

You looked back down to your screen, reading the three messages he sent. Your heart rate increased as you read the first message he actually wanted to meet you? You definitely weren’t expecting that, but like he said, it was a bit too soon to meet. Plus, he lives four hours away from you, and you’re not sure when you could get time off to see him.

You: you’re so cute💕

He was literally apologizing for no reason. Besides, isn’t it like normal to want to meet someone you met online? Honestly, it wasn’t creepy at all, just a little soon and a bit sudden.

Heeseung: 😳

His initial panic disappeared as soon as he read your last text. Thank god you didn’t think he was a weirdo or some kind of creeper.

You: I wanna meet you too, but maybe let’s get to know each other a little better first

Heeseung: Of course! Maybe if you want, we could call each other when you get off work?

You smiled at the thought of hearing what he sounded like. You wondered if his voice would match his angelic face while in your daydream. He started to overthink yet again when you didn’t reply to him immediately.

Heeseung: Only if you’re like comfortable with it. If not, I completely understand. I just wouldn’t want to make you feel weird or anything like that.

Before he sent a whole other thread of text, he willed himself to stop typing and going completely overboard.

You: My break is up, ttyl cutie. I can’t wait to hear your voice 😉

Heeseung: You got it!

You giggled at the odd reply, but still, it was undoubtedly cute.

“Is that a yes? I think that’s a yes.” he smiled and looked at his watch, showing him the time and that he had gone a minute over his break. “Shit,” he mutters, clocking in and hoping he wouldn’t get dinged for it.

➜➜➜

You both arrived home and took showers before plopping into bed, completely tired and exhausted minds riddled with meetings and reports upon a slew of other things.

Heeseung was waiting for the clock to strike three while you sat in bed waiting for your phone screen to light up with his call.

Five minutes past two, he called you, and much to your enjoyment, his voice sounded as heavenly as he looked. You and heeseung started chatting over Skype after exchanging phone numbers prior in the evening.

You both talked about your day and the problems you faced at work and soon transitioned into a new topic to learn more about each other.

“So, what else do you like other than animals?” He chuckles on the other end of the call, thinking about your first encounter with him. He felt lucky that you even stuck around after that foolishness.

“Mmm, well, a friend of mine named y/n met this guy the other night. His name is heeseung, and she likes him a lot, but she doesn’t know if he likes her.” You giggle, pretending that you’re not talking about yourself.

“Is that so?” He hums and plays your little game. “Crazy enough, I know this guy named heeseung that just so happens to like a girl named Y/n. In fact, he said he’s head over heels for her.” You can tell he was smiling just by the sound of his voice.

“She’s such a lucky girl,” you say seductively, half intentional, half unintentional.

“You think so?” He immediately matches your playful flirtatious tone.

“Yes,” you whisper the tiniest hint of a moan at the end.

“And why’s that beautiful?” He bites his lips softly.

“Hmm,” you pretend to hum in thought, but anyone with ears could clearly hear you were moaning. “Cause he’s handsome, tall with a pretty voice and even prettier eyes.” You don’t know what exactly came over you so suddenly, but you blamed it on not having any interaction with men for so long and left it at that.

“I guess she is lucky, huh?” He chuckles, trying to mask how flustered he was by your words. “He’s lucky too, you know?”

“How?” You reply quickly, desperate to find out exactly what he thinks about you.

“She’s beautiful, has all the same interests as him, unintentionally cute, and not to mention she has the perfect body.” his heart wasn’t the only one racing after saying something so straightforward on the second day of knowing you.

“How perfect?” Your throat feels dry as you whisper the words into your speaker.

“So perfect,” he breathed out, contemplating if he should continue this, but you started the flirty conversation, so he assumed it would be okay with you. “The type of body that I fantasize about.”

“What do you fantasize about? Tell me what you’d do to me?” You finally break your character, and you clearly hear his breath hitch on the other end.

“I’d lay you out on my bed, admire every inch of your perfectly sculpted body, then I’d undress you slowly, one piece of clothing at a time, kissing, sucking, and licking every single inch of you, whispering sweet nothings before eating your precious little pussy and savoring every last drop” he curses to himself lowly the image of you like that now swirling around in his brain. “And that’s just the start, beautiful.”

Embarrassingly enough, you could feel a slight tingle down there just from his voice alone, and he’d be lying if he said something wasn’t stirring below his waistband. “Tell me more.” You feel so easy and desperate after just knowing him for two days you’re practically throwing yourself at him, but you just can’t help it, and you also can’t help the way your hand slipped inside your underwear. “Please,” you whisper, and he audibly gulps from the way your tone has completely changed since the call started.

“Then I’d make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, and lastly, my cock. You’d like that right feeling my cock stroking deep in your pretty pussy” There’s no denying that he’s hard, especially with the way you’re practically moaning while he talks to you, and it only dawned on him what was actually going on when your moans increased in volume, and your breathing had quickened. “Wait, are you?” he says, completely shocked. If you were doing what he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure you were doing, he was going to lose his mind. “Are you touching yourself?”

Your hand comes to a complete stop when you hear him say that. You quickly take your hand out of your underwear and clamp your legs shut as guilt and shame washes over you. “S-sorry,” you quickly apologize for your behavior. You felt terrible cause he wasn’t even aware of what you were doing while he was on the other end. You could only imagine what he was thinking about you after that shameful act you just committed.

Except he was thinking, what the fuck exactly were you apologizing for? He felt like he was on cloud nine. The fact he was able to turn you on to the point that you wanted to touch yourself was beyond huge for him. He had no idea anyone would even find his dirty talk attractive, let alone to the point of masturbating to it. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. Just tell me about it next time so I can do it with you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, embarrassed, not knowing what to say next, but Heeseung knew exactly what to say.

“Now pretty, tell me, are you wet?” He moves his blankets back to slowly palm himself over his boxers.

“Yes,” a shaky breath could be heard from him after your response.

“Fuck keep touching yourself pretty wouldn’t want you waiting too long to make yourself feel good. Can I touch myself, too?” He asks you for permission.

The thought of him wanting to touch himself for you was making your head spin already. “Yes, heeseung, please touch your cock for me” You hear him almost whimper, and it makes you throb so hard down there as you continue fondling yourself to his voice.

“Okay.” He hastily reached into his drawer, pulling out a good size bottle of lube, flicking the cap open before pulling down his boxers, holding the bottle above his tip, and squeezing a nice amount onto his shaft before he spreads it around, covering his entire length. “Anything in particular you’d like me to do?” He hisses as he slowly works his cock up and down. He feels so shameless for doing this, but he can’t even care anymore. His mind is too clouded with lust, and your voice sounded too good for him to stop.

“Rub the tip.” You bit your lip as you buck your hips into your palm.

“Fuck” he whines and does as you say. “It feels so good.” he slowly cups his palm over his sensitive tip, rubbing the head like you asked him to. “Are you fingering yourself?” He breathes out, eyes falling shut from the pleasure his right hand gives him.

“N-no, just rubbing.” he twitches in his palm at that, imagining how pretty you must look while pleasing yourself.

“Play with your little hole, stick your fingers inside, and pretend that it’s me fucking you open” Your eyes rolled back immediately as you stuffed your fingers deep inside you, thinking about his cock instead.

“Heeseung,” the moan of his name nearly makes him cum on the spot.

“Does my cock feel good?” He grunts out.

“Mmm, yes, so good, so fucking big and thick” The moan you let out was absolutely obscene, but he loved every last second of it.

“Yeah? You like my big cock stretching you out, pretty?”

“Yes,” you whine, feeling your legs shaking as you got close.

“Me too” he grips his cock tightly, trying to mimic the way you’d feel around him. “Love splitting your tight cunt open with my cock feels so fucking good” he jerks himself faster, and you can hear the wet slippery sounds of his hand moving up and down on his dick.

“Want your cum” you beg shamelessly as your walls tighten around your fingers, too far gone to even try to stop the filth coming from your mouth.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll give you my cum, pretty,” he says, knowing he’s right on the edge. Even though you weren’t physically together, he still wanted to make you cum first.

“Cumming!” You sped up the pace of your fingers and finally reached your end as the pleasure filtered through your body in waves.

“Gonna take this cum?” He groans.

“Yes, heeseung,” you whine, and not a second later, his cum is spilling all over his chest in long hot ropes.

“Take it pretty. Take it all like a good girl.” he rubs out every single drop, moaning and panting in exhaustion mixed with pleasure.

You can’t help but moan with him as you caress your clit till you're satisfied.

Once your guy's moans fade out into silence and your minds clear, there’s a hint of awkwardness.

The silence continues cause you’re both deep in thought about what just transpired.

He hopes you don’t think he’s just someone who’s nasty and has phone sex with random girls after just meeting them because he doesn’t. You were his first and probably would be his only. There was just something about you that he couldn’t say no to. He wanted to blame it on his nonexistent love life, but that just wasn’t the case.

You, on the other hand, were freaking out because what if he thought you were just some slut that went around having phone sex and flirting with guys you just met on Tinder? You really hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea about you despite literally having phone sex with a guy you just met, but heeseung somehow felt different. How could you not touch yourself to a voice as seductive as his? It’s not your fault that he was literally the epitome of perfection.

“I’ve never done that before,” he finally says something, knocking you out of your intrusive thoughts.

“Me neither,” you tell him, and the relief you both feel is enough to wipe away any awkwardness or apprehension about each other that was once there.

“I liked it,” he chuckles bashfully as a smile climbs up your lips.

“Me too,” you reply with the same shyness as him.

“That’s good to know,” he smiled, and that was all he needed to hear.

➜➜➜

“Fuck baby, I’m so fucking close,” heeseung moans, and you’re not far off either.

You had just gotten off of work, and since the first time you both had phone sex, you’d been doing it every time when you got off work, and it was better and better each time, especially when you found out about the toy collection you both owned.

Heeseung was currently balls deep in his clear flesh light, restlessly pounding into the toy pretending it was your pretty pussy instead.

Much like him, you had a huge clear dildo buried to the hilt inside you while you played with your clit. “Mmm,” you moaned, biting on your lip when a risky idea popped into your head. “I wanna see you,” you say without even thinking twice about it.

Heeseung halts his movements, thinking he heard you wrong, but he knows he didn’t. “Me too, baby,” when he responds, your heart beats frantically in your chest. Not being able to hold your excitement, you prop yourself up, making sure your surroundings are presentable before requesting to FaceTime him.

He scrambles to quickly find a good angle, not expecting you to request a video call, so soon he connects the call, and you’re met with a view of his neck, and downwards you hold your phone, giving him a clear view of the toy slowly sliding in and out of you.

You do your best to focus on fucking yourself, but it’s hard when you’re eyeing his body up and down. He looked so much fucking better than what you imagined, and so did his cock. He was literally huge.

His deep voice brings you somewhat back to reality. “Wish you were here right now” he sat on his knees, covering his cock with the clear flashlight, slowly fucking it until his red-hued tip poked through, leaving your mouth watering and your pussy creaming. “I’d fuck that creamy little pussy so good” he easily matched the pace of your dildo, trying to make it feel as real as possible. “Look at your thirsty little pussy sucking that cock right in, taking it real nice and deep, yeah?”

“Fuck heeseung” You did your best to keep your camera in focus, but it was hard to when your body was shaking with so much pleasure.

“Pull it all the way out and fuck it back in pretty. Show me how hard you like it.” Your back arched as you slithered the toy out of your hole only to shove it back in, and you gasped out a loud moan when you stuffed yourself full.

He mimics your rough pace. “Faster,” he commands while he snaps his hips into the fleshlight.

“Oh! H-heeseung,” you babble out his name, going faster and harder just the way he wanted you to, and none of your late-night sessions alone in your room ever felt as good as this.

“F-faster,” he whines, pushing the toy further into his mattress as his body starts to feel sore, but he needs to see your pussy coming around that toy before he can cum.

Tears well in your eyes from the pleasure. You barely feel coherent, and you’re not even sure if your camera is still on. All you know is that you’re seconds away from coming.

“Fuck me, heeseung,” your voice vibrates in your throat, and you come hard around the dildo, squeezing it tightly as your orgasm takes control of your body.

“Fuck y/n fuck” his own voice sounds strained, and you can hear that he’s close from all the moaning and heavy breathing. He quickly pulls out and grabs his camera. You catch a faint image of his face before he flips his phone showing his cum shot to you. “Wanna cum in you so bad,” he whines and grips his base jerking out the rest of his milky release for your eyes to see, and you wish it was inside of you instead.

He falls on his bed, avoiding his cum soaked sheets holding his phone normally so you can see his bottom half as his cock starts going soft between his pretty legs.

He nearly moans when he sees you pulling the dildo out of your hole. It’s soaked in your cum, and he swears he’s never wanted to be anything more than that stupid toy right now.

Your hole continues to pulse as more white dribbles out. “Such a pretty hole,” he says, and it makes you feel shy knowing that he’s seeing you up so close and personal. “That was so hot,” he comments. Once you turn off your camera and go to clean yourself, he can’t even see you, yet you’re brushing like crazy.

“You are too,” you say shyly, and he’s happy you turned off your camera because now he’s a blushing mess.

“I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object,” he sighs, folding his sheets and tossing them in the laundry bin in the corner of his room. “I need you soaking my cock like that baby, not some stupid toy,” he whines, and you laugh.

“Hee, stop it.” You make your way to the bathroom cause after that, you definitely needed a shower and sheet change.

“Okay, okay, anyways, do you wanna shower with me?” You’re not even sure why he’s asking. Of course, you wanted to. It’s been your little routine for the past couple of weeks after you both agreed cause it made you feel like you were actually with each other.

“Of course, hee,” he swears. His heart melts every time he hears you say that little nickname you gave him.

He props his phone in the window seal, requesting to FaceTime you again.

You nervously bite your lip. You never face timed in the shower before.

After three rings, he grows a little nervous, thinking he once again overstepped his boundaries. He should have asked before just FaceTiming you. He frowns after a few more rings, knowing you’re not going to pick up. He doesn’t know why you’re not answering him, though, it’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, but maybe you’re just into him for cyber sex, and maybe he’s way more into you than you are into him, those thoughts make him overthink, but luckily you answer him before he could doubt everything you guys have done up to this point. “Hi, pretty,” he said excitedly and waved at you like a little kid.

“Hey, cutie,” he steps out of frame doing a little happy dance, but what he didn’t know is that you can see him in the reflection of the mirrors in his bathroom.

You couldn’t help but laugh. He just kept getting cuter by the day.

You both silently wait for each other to get into the shower, and when you do, he’s asking you a question that, In his mind, was long overdue. “So,” he starts and lathers his hair with shampoo. “It’s been a while since we have known each other correct?”

“Correct,” you smile, already knowing exactly where this is headed.

“And we’ve learned more about each other.” he plays with the suds from his hair, making a goofy face into the camera that makes you laugh.

“A lot more,” you reply, working the conditioner through your hair.

“Yes,” he chuckles at the double meaning of your words. “So we should meet, what do you say? Nothing too extreme, but I was thinking something nice. You and me have the weekend off, so I thought now is the perfect time.”

“Sure,” you chirp, and you both share warm smiles before chatting about random things here and there.

Once you’re all done showering, you both climb into bed, nearly running on empty batteries on your phones.

Neither of you wanted to hang up, but the sleepiness was taking over fast. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay baby?”

“Okay, goodnight, hee.” His eyelids droop even further, and he’s just able to make out your reply before he passes out.

“Night night, pretty.” You’re not even sure if you hung up or if he did, but before you could think about it, you were already drifting off to sleep.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Morning, pretty.

You smile at your phone when you hear the alert, already knowing who it was this early in the morning. Another sound chimes before you can look at the first message.

Heeseung: Missing you

He sent along with three attachments, and he nearly gave you a heart attack because someone could have easily looked over your shoulder and seen him in all his glory.

You quickly turn down the brightness after analyzing those photos in far too much detail.

You: You can’t send me stuff like that at work😐

Your reaction wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but he should have known better than to send that to you at your workplace. You could have gotten in trouble.

Heeseung: Sorry baby☹️ just thought you might like it. I won’t do it again

Why was he so adorable? You nearly squealed from his cuteness.

You: Hee baby, I did like it, but maybe next time, send it while I’m on break. Someone could have seen you, and I don’t want anyone seeing you.

He felt warm from your reply. It was cute to him that you wanted him all for yourself, and he felt the same way about you.

Heeseung: Don’t worry, I’m all yours, pretty.

You: Good.

You answer him quickly, taking one last look at the photos he sent you. The cam didn’t do him much justice cause his cock looked even prettier in those photos.

You: I’ll let you get back to work.

He hides his phone under his desk before he gets scolded for not paying attention to the meeting he is currently in.

Not even five minutes later, the dampness in your panties was unbearable, so you went to the bathroom to take them off.

You: Hee, I can’t focus 😩

You sent him. When he felt the buzz on his thigh, he couldn’t help but unlock his phone and check your message.

He smirks at the text.

Heeseung: You liked it that much, huh, baby?😉

You: Of course🥺 I can’t even wear my underwear 'cause they’re so wet

You whined in frustration. You needed him so badly right now.

He flicked his eyes across the room, making sure no one noticed him.

Heeseung: You’re wet?”

He loosened his tie and began impatiently bouncing his leg up and down.

You couldn’t believe him. What the hell did he expect after sending you not one, not two, but three whole pictures of himself?

You: Hee.. I need you.

Heeseung: Baby…

He responds, and maybe this wasn’t as cute of an idea as he once thought cause he now had a boner in the middle of his meeting.

You: Please, heeseung, I’m so 💦

You sent, knowing that would get him riled up, but it’s only payback, though.

Heeseung: Fuck baby, don’t do that. I’m in a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.

He quietly puts his phone away.

You frowned. Of course, he’d start something he couldn’t finish. Looks like you were just going to have to do the rest of your shift with a puddle between your legs.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby, I just got home. What are you up to?

He sat down on his bed, undressing himself, not bothering to shut off his phone cause he knew you’d respond right away.

After a few minutes with no reply from you, he squints at his phone, finding it odd you haven’t replied yet.

Heeseung: Baby~👀?

Heeseung: are you there?👀

You saw his messages, but you weren’t going to read them as payback for what he did to you earlier.

Heeseung: Did you go to sleep? If so, sweet dreams, baby talk to you later tonight😘

It was hard not to reply to him, but you weren’t going to keep it going for much longer. You just wanted to tease him a little.

After two hours, heeseung was having a hard time not hearing from you. It’s not like he couldn’t go without talking to you, but he was accustomed to it, and now he was missing it.

Heeseung: I hope you’re sleeping well, baby. Wake up soon, though, cause I miss you already 🥺❤️

Why did he have to make this so hard? Ugh, him calling you baby was your ultimate weakness. So you gave up and just messaged him back.

You: I miss you too, hee🩵

He nearly dove on his bed when he heard the alert go off.

He didn’t bother texting you. Instead, he called you, wanting to hear your sweet, sweet voice. “Hi,” he nearly keels over at the sound that he’s grown to love so much. Your voice was so so pretty.

“Hey baby,” he sighs dreamily, closing his eyes softly, listening to your soothing voice until it wasn’t so soothing, and his eyes shot wide open in panic.

“I’m mad at you,” you tell him, and he sits up straight.

“Baby? Why? What did I do?” He starts panicking right away, and you can’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing? If I hurt you, it’s not funny,” he pouts.

“Hee, I’m kidding. Calm down. I was trying to pretend that I was mad at you and ignore you this whole time because of what you did to me this morning,” you groan and throw yourself on the bed.

“You did? So you weren’t asleep? Baby, you’re mean,” he fake cries.

“Me?! Hee, you’re mean, you left me wet all day.” Kicking your feet, you whine loudly, making him chuckle. “And you’re laughing at me?!”

“Sorry baby,” you can still hear him laughing. “I didn’t make you wet, though.” You wanted to jump through the speaker and smack him for trying to play innocent. “You chose to get wet.”

“So when I send pics tomorrow while you’re at work, just remember it’s you choosing to get hard.” You hung up the phone without giving him a chance to respond.

“What! Baby, no, I’m sorry I didn’t me-“ he looks down at his phone, seeing the call had disconnected. “Uh oh”

➜➜➜

Heeseung’s hands were literally sweating. He was so nervous if you did indeed send him pics, he didn’t know what he was going to do. It didn’t take much to get him going, and he’s sure just a simple pic of your panty line could make him hard. It’s not like he was that easy. It’s just you were that fucking sexy to him.

The morning went by smoothly. You had already texted each other your good mornings, and he figured you had forgotten about what you said last night.

Until the last hour of his shift, he gulped. Hearing the alert on his phone, he contemplated not even picking it up, but what if you needed something and it was important?

With a heavy sigh, he hides his phone screen and opens up your message. “Fuck” he moans quietly and looks left and right, making sure that no one heard him. He left his chair and immediately went to the men’s room. “Fuck fuck fuck” he curses, locking himself in the bathroom, and that’s what he gets for teasing you like that the day before.

Heeseung: Guess who’s in the bathroom as hard as a rock😐🪨

You giggle at your screen, texting him back.

You: No? Who?”

You felt like the devil for doing that to him, but he could take a little payback.

Heeseung: Not funny, y/n😔

You: Aww, my poor little bunny,🩵

He grins at the new nickname, but he’s still semi-upset with you.

Heeseung: Come help your little bunny👀🥵

You laugh. There’s no way you could leave work and drive hours for him even though you really, really wanted to.

You: No way, hee, just accept your demise.

You hide your phone, making sure no one sees you.

Heeseung: Fine, but baby, why are you so wet in those pictures? You didn’t get off without me, did you?🤨

If you did, he so wasn’t going to let you get away with that.

You: I might have looked at the pics you sent👀

Shit, he wished he never even asked because the idea of you looking at his pics and getting wet made his cock twitch.

Heeseung: You’re so naughty😏

The throbbing between his legs was becoming unbearable for him, but he knew he couldn’t do anything without you.

You: I get it from you😉 Now, bunny. I have a meeting to attend ttyl.

Heeseung: Baby… don’t leave me like this 😩🫠 at least call me when you get home so we can get freaky on camera.

You laugh, reading his last message, and left him on seen, leaving him to find out a way to get his boner to go down all by himself.

➜➜➜

You asked to get off earlier than usual, and luckily, your boss let you go. You wanted to have a little extra time before heeseung got home cause you were going to surprise him.

Except you were nervous as heck because you weren’t sure if you were doing too much, but you guess you’d find out about that soon.

When heeseung called you after he got off work, the last thing on his mind was to see your ass up, barely anything on and a clear diamond plug inside your tight hole and a dildo in the other though it was unexpected, but, it most definitely wasn’t unappreciated. “Oh my god, baby,” he trailed off at a complete loss for words.

You looked so fucking perfect.

“You like?” You say, looking back at the camera as you bite your lip and slowly bounce up and down on the dildo.

He nearly choked on air while he tried to answer. He rushed to his bedroom, quickly yanking off his jacket and undoing his belt. You laugh when you find out that he liked it, a feeling of relief washing over you. “Yes baby, you look so pretty.” he looks at you with what you could only describe as heart eyes. “I'm already so hard.” You hear him unzip his slacks, but you quickly stop him.

“Ah ah, no touching,” you chuckle softly at his expression.

“Please don’t do this to me” he throws his head back against the headboard feeling like he was going to explode if he didn’t cum soon.

“Hmm, fine, I suppose I’ll let you off this time. Go ahead, hee, get yourself off, cutie,” you moan when you come down on the dildo.

“Thank you” he smiled faintly and quickly pulled down his pants and underwear in one go turning the camera around so he could show you his hard leaking cock.

“Hee,” you whimper at the sight of his cock. No matter what, you knew nothing would feel as good as him inside you.

“Ride it,” he spits in his palm and wraps it around his thick cock, slow stroking it.

You lift yourself off the dildo, hearing him groan as you clench down on the tip. “So fucking creamy, baby” he tilts his head slightly and bites on his lip, mesmerized by the thick strings of arousal that coat the silicone toy.

“Just for you,” you purse your lips, unable to keep yourself from bouncing faster. He hated how that toy got to feel you, and he didn’t.

“God, I can’t wait to see you in person gonna fuck you so much better than that stupid toy” he picks up the pace with you gradually so you can both cum together.

“I know you will,” you whisper now, desperately fucking yourself onto the dildo.

“Shit,” he couldn’t take his eyes off the clear stud that was nestled deep inside you, shining every time you bouched and the light hit it just right, and now he had not one but two toys to be jealous of. “Your ass is so pretty” his eyes roll back into his head as he feels the heat pooling in his abdomen. He knows what that’s a sign of, but he doesn’t want to cum so soon. “I bet you’d like it if I fingered that tight little hole while I fucked you hard and deep, yeah?”

“Mmm yes hee would you fuck my ass too?” You rubbed over the plug, gasping as you pushed it inside you further.

He growls when he hears your naughty request. He’s never tried anal before, but he’d love to try it with you first. The idea sounded so sexy to him. “I would. Fuck, wanna feel both your holes around me so fucking bad, baby” he could barely contain himself watching the way you swallowed up that toy and how well it stretched you out, but he knew he’d stretch you out so much more that you’d need an even bigger toy by the time he was done with you. “You’re gonna make me cum” he whispers, moaning while pumping his dick faster.

“Want your cum on my ass,” you cry out, legs shaking and sore as you reach the point of no return, and that knot inside you is seconds away from breaking.

“Oh- fuck” he pants heavily, and you gasp as his cum shoots out, some of it splashing onto his camera lens, but that makes it so much hotter.

“Hee,” you breathe out. Just imagining him cumming on you makes you unravel, and your orgasm washes over you in tingling waves of pleasure. “Oh yes,” you moan, falling forward to give your legs a break as you roll your hips and ride out your high.

“Keep going,” he grunts while the last beads of cum bubble out of his sensitive tip. “Mmm fuck” he hisses, body shuddering from the intensity.

You whine into your pillow, trying to catch your breath, the butt plug definitely highlighting the pleasure as you rock back and forth until you can’t anymore, and the exhaustion finally takes over.

You got off the toy and laid flat on your bed, panting and sweaty. “I loved the surprise, baby.” heeseung flips his camera so you can make out his sweet features as he stares at you with a lazy smile and half open lids.

“I’m glad.” You smile tiredly, but it drops when you see him frown. “What’s wrong hee?” You whisper softly.

Even with his blankets pulled up and hugging his pillow, it still feels cold and empty without you there. “I wanna cuddle with you so bad. You’re gonna make me drive hours to hold you in my arms, baby,” you giggle, and he pouts. “I’m serious.”

“I know, bunny, just two more days, though, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “I want to take a shower with you, and I want to stay on the phone till we fall asleep,” he demands in the cutest way ever.

“Whatever you want, bun” he kisses his camera lens, and that’s when you knew he really couldn’t wait to see you. “Mwah,” you kissed him back, and the smile on his face made you think that he might really be the one for you, but you wouldn’t blow things out of proportion because you still had to meet him first and see how things go cause you didn’t want to take things too fast.

Once you both got into bed, you came up with a brilliant idea. “We shouldn’t talk to each other till we meet.”

“What? No, no, no, I don’t wanna do that.” he shakes his head back and forth like a child.

“Bun, think about it. It’ll be like not looking at the groom before the wedding,” you say, ecstatic about your idea.

“We’re not getting married,” he deadpanned.

“Fine,” you mumble.

“Wait, baby, we can do that if you want. It would make seeing you even more exciting if that’s possible.”

“See!” You flop down and get into bed.

“Yeah, I see your point,” he sighs, just staring at your beautiful face on his phone screen.

“I can’t wait till the weekend,” he smiles, happy that you’re just as excited as him. He could really see you two working out. Same hobbies, same interests, and a decent bond after just two months, not to mention how comfortable with each other you both already were, sure things were going a bit fast but it didn’t feel wrong and everything was going great and the fact you even liked him back was a miracle in his eyes.

“Me neither, baby, but for right now, close those little eyes and get some sleep, okay, pretty.”

“Okay,” your eyes flutter shut softly.

He makes kissy noises, and despite you feeling embarrassed by his behavior, you do it back, which makes his heart beat for you just a little bit faster. “Goodnight, pretty.”

“Nighty night, bun.” Only time would tell how things would go between you two, but it looked very promising.

➜➜➜

Like you both agreed, neither of you faced time or called each other for the rest of the week. It was hard, but you both knew it’d be worth it in the end.

Heeseung had already packed the night prior and was on his way to see you first thing in the morning. He was so excited he literally couldn’t wait, and neither could you. Every minute felt like an hour waiting for his arrival.

But soon, the clock struck seven, the time he said he’d arrive, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest when you saw his black Mercedes’ pull up to your driveway. You smoothed out your black dress, taking a long, deep breath as he knocked softly on your door.

He nervously played with the petals on the flowers he bought you while waiting for you to answer.

When you answered, he felt like the breath got sucked out of him. He was literally in awe of seeing you in person for the first time. “Hi, pretty,” he smiles widely, greeting you like he normally would over the phone. And it wasn’t awkward at all seeing you, but it was definitely exciting.

“Hey, hee.” You take in his features, and he looked just the same in person, if not better, and you think not talking to him for those few days really did make meeting him all the better, and he’d have to agree with you on that.

“Baby, you look so beautiful in person,” he says softly.

“So do you.” You complement him shyly. He looked amazing in his all-black suit. You could barely contain yourself from jumping on him.

“Thanks.” He looks down, playing with the flowers once more. “I bought you these. I hope you’re not allergic.” he extends them out to you.

You shake your head back and forth lightly. “Thank you. Come in,” he steps in, taking a short look around.

“I like your place. It’s nice.” You place the flowers in a vase on your table, smiling fondly at them.

“Thank you.” You turn to him and walk over to where he is standing as he looks at you up and down. “So where to?”

“You’ll see.” he grabs your hand, leading you outside your house. Opening the car door for you like a true gentleman, and that was already a green flag.

Once he gets in the driver's side, he sets the navigation to the destination of a small but fancy restaurant. It was outdoors, and he thought it would be more romantic for your first meeting than dining inside around a bunch of people.

At dinner, you both talked like normal nothing was weird or awkward. Everything seemed like you two had known each other for years. It was so casual, and a big plus was you weren’t overdressed like you had worried about when you were getting ready.

And since you were so comfortable around him, you felt bold enough to pull your next move, something you only thought of a few hours before he arrived at your place. “Open your hand,” you said to him after you two had finished eating dinner and dessert, and now you were having a few drinks before heading back home.

“What do you have for me?” he smiles and opens his hand for you to place the tiny controller in.

“Look and see.” his expression was priceless as he looked up at you, not expecting this at all.

“Baby…” his words get swooped away in the wind, and he can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening, but it all becomes clear when he presses the power button, setting off soft vibrations inside you that make you gasp and shift in your chair slightly.

He turns up the speed higher, and your mouth gapes open, eyes nearly turning completely white as you throw your head back in pleasure, and the pulsations in both your holes begin to make your legs shake. “Fuck, we have to go now” he stands up, offering you his hand to lead you out of the restaurant before he loses himself. “Wait, is it okay with you?” He stares at you, big, round eyes showing nothing but care and you nod your head shyly, feeling beyond lucky to have found someone like him.

After opening his car door for you, he scrambles to the driver's side impatiently, gripping and struggling to put on his seat belt. You giggle softly as he presses the start button with shaky hands. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before pulling out of the parking lot and heading straight for your place. “I can’t wait to have you baby. You have no idea.” he placed his hand on your thigh, trailing it up your skirt and leaning over the console to place a kiss on your cheek when he reached a red light.

“I think I have an idea.” You smirk and grip his wrist, placing his warm hand up your skirt and between your legs. He gasps when he feels the river flowing out of you, and he can’t help but rub you while he’s driving. “Hee,” you whisper, and he takes his eyes off the road occasionally to watch your expressions while he thumbs at your clit.

“Patience baby, gotta take it slow” he removed his hand from under your skirt, and you whined from the loss of touch, but you knew it was better this way, even if you did feel like cumming on the spot when he smirked at you and sucked your wetness off his fingers.

He turned the vibration up to full speed without warning, and your back arched off the seat, mouth parting in a lewd gasp. “Fuck” You turned to him, eyes already lidded and filled with lust as you looked between his legs seeing his thick bulge poke out from his dress pants, and you couldn’t help but take him in your hand so you could feel just how thick he really was.

“Gonna be inside you real soon, pretty,” he groans when you squeeze him in your tiny hand. “Look at you so dirty, baby. Can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh? Already stretched and ready for my cock” you hum as a response, already feeling dumb from his words mixed with your holes being stuffed to the brim.

“Mmph yeah,” you bit your lip, stroking his cock as your mouth waters. You felt so desperate for him to fill you up. You’ve waited months for this, and just minutes away from your house, he was finally going to be all yours.

“Fuck” he curses and presses the gas. There was no one on the street anyway, and he needed to be inside you at least ten minutes ago.

Within a few more minutes, he arrives, yanking his seat belt off. He rushes over to get the door for you, and you yelp in surprise when he hooks his arm around your back and just below your knees, carrying you up to your home.

You quickly type in the password, allowing the both of you to enter. “Bedroom?” He nibbles on your ear while you kick off your heels at the door, and he does the same with his shoes.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck as he takes you to your bedroom. He quickly opens the door, practically slamming it shut with his foot and laying you on the bed.

You take the liberty of taking off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties while he rips open his shirt and easily strips down to nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers. “It’s so big.” Your heart thumps over and over as you take in the sight. No video call could have ever prepared you for this.

“Yeah? Like it?” He bites on his lip to contain how happy your words actually made him. You nod, eyes still heavily trained on his dick print. “Baby, you’re even more perfect in fucking person,” he moans shamelessly at the sight of your breasts, and his body is instantly drawn towards yours on the bed, remote still in hand. He lowers the vibrations, giving you a break from the intensity. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers, just focusing on the moment while you twirl your hands in his hair.

“Me neither.” Your smile makes his heart race, and before he gets too sentimental and kills the mood, he placed his lips on yours, kissing you like you were his first kiss ever. “You’re so cute, bun.”

He hides his face in your neck, kissing your pulse. At the same time, you sigh, indulging in his soft touch as he moves his head downward, his tongue poking out, leaving snail-like trails of saliva on your perky breasts. When you wrap your legs around his waist, he balls the sheets in his fist, rutting his bulge against your core. The soft vibrations of the toy shooting through his dick automatically make him whimper, and he turns up the speed masking his loud moans by sucking on your right tit.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum” With the vibrations from the toy and his hard cock rubbing your clit you couldn’t take much more he shut off the toy entirely. There’s no way the first orgasm you experience with him would be because of a toy either you’d cum around his fingers or cock, nothing less.

He sits up, dropping his boxers around his ankles to free his cock, and you’re left speechless and clenching around nothing.

His cock twitches as he catches your line of vision. “Need you inside me, hee, please” After what felt like at least an hour of torture and teasing, you couldn’t help but desperately beg and moan for him to fuck you.

“Breathe baby, just relax.” he steps out of his underwear and hooks the waistband of your panties, eyebrows raised in anticipation to see what’s underneath. “You’re perfect,” he comments, continuing to pull your panties down your ankles. You lift your legs up slightly, aiding him in the process of removing your panties. “Gonna take it nice and slow baby, we have all night.” he lays between your legs, placing a hand on the toy and gently pulling it out, only realizing that it had been in both your holes this whole time. “Are you trying to fucking drive me crazy?” You only moan as you feel your holes being emptied and clenching down around nothing.

“Maybe,” you smile mischievously.

“Well, it’s fucking working, god baby, you’re not gonna get any sleep tonight because of me” Your stomach turns with arousal, knowing that he means every word of it, and you don’t mind one bit.

He starts out kissing your clit and exploring your vulva with his warm tongue while your hands find the hair on his head. Gripping it softly, his hands squeeze your plush thighs as he hums from the already addictive taste coming out of you. “Taste like fucking candy, baby,” he exhales a long breath diving back in for seconds, poking the tip of his tongue in your hole, swiping up the first glob of wetness that drips from your slit.

“Hee,” you bite into your lip, closing your eyes and enjoying this experience. It’s been so long that you couldn’t help but soak in every wet lick and warm flick of his tongue. “Oh my god.”

Oh my god, is right. He thinks because you taste like fucking heaven on earth so much that, he could cum from your arousal on his tongue alone.

His two fingers slip right in from the earlier prep. He curls them up and suckles on your clit, finding your spot easily like he’s had you before. You’re amazed and confused at the same time cause you’ve never felt yourself cumming this fast before. This was a record by far. “Hee”

“Baby, I know,” he whines, allowing his eyes to fall shut as your walls tighten around his fingers. The little vibrations from his voice replicate the toy from earlier, and your legs shake from the sheer intensity of your impending high. He sucks on your clit, slurping at the little nub until he takes the first orgasm out of you.

Your mouth hangs wide open, the repeated flicking of his tongue sending you into complete bliss. You rotate your hips, riding his tongue and gripping his hair tightly while you lose yourself in the feel of him. “Oh heeseung!” A loud moan travels up your throat and comes out, sounding like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you as you cried his name in pleasure. He pulls his slick fingers from your hole carefully and sucks off everything swallowing it down, savoring your taste until he’s content.

He licks your pretty pussy clean before hoisting himself up on the bed as you try to catch your breath, only for him to take it away when he smothers you in the wettest hungriest kisses you’ve ever felt. You whine into his mouth, writhing underneath him at the loss of breath, and you feel lightheaded, yet you chase his lips in search of more, and he delivers, sticking his tongue down your throat, devouring your mouth with one lust filled kiss at a time.

Your body shudders as you feel his warm cock rubbing over your pussy. Your legs find their way around his waist yet again, begging him to push it in. He rolls his hips, brushing his wet tip between your swollen folds. You’re both so lost in the kiss that you barely notice the increased pace of his thrusts. It’s only when his tip slips inside that the kiss ends, leaving you both gasping in each other's mouths. “Oh fuck” your moans get lost in each other’s mouths when he pushes in all the way, easily bottoming out inside you. “You’re so tight and fucking warm shit, baby,” he groans.

“Hee, you’re so big,” you squeak and rake your nails into his back as he groans again from the sting, but the pain only fuels him to buck his hips into you faster. His arousal coated balls smack against your ass. The clapping sound made everything feel so dirty but so hot at the same time.

His elbows dig into your mattress, and he cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, heightening the pleasure to a new level that you didn’t even know was possible. “Hear that?” He breathes out in your ear. “Hear how wet this pussy gets for me?” You clench at his dirty words, and he smirks, knowing just how much you love his dirty talk. “Clenching so tight for this dick, you must have really been craving for me, huh? Who knew such a pretty face could be so naughty?” he dips his tongue into your ear, tracing every little crease, and you swear you go crossed eyed from all the different sensations that he makes you feel at once.

“Yes, want it so bad” Your hands grip his ass pulling his body closer so you can feel every last inch of him stuffing you full. “Feels so good. I love your cock”

“Yeah?” He withdrew from you to admire the look on your face. The sight of you under him, sweating, panting, and moaning just for him, nearly made him cum. “If you keep talking to me like that baby, I’m gonna cum” he rested his forehead against yours, and you took the opportunity to capture his lips for another short kiss.

“Cum in my hee,” you say, not entirely in your right mind.

“Baby…” he slows his pace down. Just the idea of cumming in you was enough to make him feel like emptying his load in you, and that wouldn’t be very responsible of him.

Your head was somewhere else. Despite his warning, you still wanted to feel his cum in you. You used the last ounce of sanity to say something you never expected to say to him, at least not on the first night. “Then fuck my ass, hee cum in me please need to feel you so bad,” you beg.

“Shit,” he pulled out right away. The thought of filling up your ass was the only thing on his mind. He knew you could take it too, after all the dirty little surprises on cam that you did for him, and finally, he could be in the place of your little toy collection.

He hoisted you up slightly, legs still around his waist, as he swiped up your arousal with his shaft, using it as lube to coat your twitching little hole. He stuck his thumb in testing the waters, and he easily sank in. “Gonna fuck your tight little ass so good, pretty girl” he pulled out his thumb once he made sure you were ready and pushed his cock head in your hole. The wetness on his cock made entering you nice and smooth as he slowly buried his cock inside you squeezing your thighs, trying to ground himself.

“Fuck yes,” you moan as you feel him enter you. Your eyes roll back as he fucks his cock deep into your ass. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but you enjoyed every single second of it.

“So tight,” he grits through his teeth the deeper he gets. When he was fully covered in your warmth, he bent down to kiss you. It’s messy, but it’s so good the drool dripping from his mouth turns you on so much that more arousal drips from your hole and dribbles down to his base. “You feel like heaven,” he choked out, leaning back to take a breather, his eyes catching sight of the leak between your legs. He gathers it on his fingers, pulling it out halfway and rubbing it on to wet his shaft to make sure the slide is still comfortable for you. “Hmm,” he grunts loudly, placing his hand on your hip and pressing down on your lower stomach with the other. “So creamy.” he locks his eyes on the white coating his shaft, and his mouth falls open. It felt so different from your pussy but still so good. It was soft and so so warm.

You propped yourself on your elbows, and his eyes flick over at you. He smirked, feeling your hole clench as you watched what he was doing to you. “You like that, huh? Watching it go In, watching me fuck your tight little ass, yeah?” He moans from the tightness around his base.

With pursed lips, you nod your head. It was absolutely filthy what he was saying to you and what he was doing to you, but you loved all of it. He was giving you everything you’ve ever fantasized about and then some.

You fell back on the mattress too fuck out to keep yourself up any longer. “Yes, heeseung, keep fucking my ass just like that,” you scream, and it sets off something in him. His nails dig into your hips as he pounds your ass ruthlessly.

“Baby,” he moans, biting on his lip. The sheen of sweat on his body makes him look so much hotter, and you swear you feel yourself getting even more wet. If that’s possible, he rests one hand beside your head and the other on your hip, using his thumb to rub on your clit.

You tremble under him, and you feel your body go completely limp, legs jelly, mind numb with nothing but the thought of his cock thrusting inside you so perfectly till you came clenching around him so tightly that he could barely even move. “Heeseung!” You writhe beneath him, a panting, moaning mess. “Cum in my ass, please” you moan, and it sends him over the edge. He stills in your tight rim as his balls tighten, and he groans, filling you up his with his creamy cum just the way you begged for it.

“Fuck!” He whimpers, feeling a chill run down his spine as he collapses on top of you to lock his lips with your whimpering into your mouth about how much he’s cumming and how good you feel around him. “Oh god,” he winced slowly, riding out his high, keeping your ass plugged with his cock as his cum settles in you. “Shit,” he huffs out, resting his forehead on yours.

You’re too fucked out to even respond, and he chuckles, lightly pecking your lips. “That was so fucking good” he leans up and pulls out of you, watching your rim twitching and pushing out his cum, and it was a lot. Your hole looked so pretty, leaking all his white semen out of it.

You moan, feeling his seed drip out of you. He immediately lays down next to you, both of you utterly exhausted. He pulls you close to his body, caressing your bare skin softly. “That was amazing, heeseung thank you.”

“Hmmm, of course, baby,” he smiles. “Been waiting so long to hold you in my arms,” he kissed your cheek, hugging you a little tighter. “You wanna shower now?” You nod against his chest, but he waits a few more minutes, so you both can catch a break after that, and soon he carries you to your restroom, getting ready to bathe you and cuddle you asleep til his heart is content.

Meeting you went even better than what he had originally planned.

➜➜➜

You hum in delight when you feel heeseung’s warmth so close to you you snuggled up to his chest, kissing his pecs until you made him stir in his sleep.

“What are you doing?” He laughs, his voice still deep with sleep as he lightly strokes your hip. “Miss me already. Hmm?” He smiled and cracked his eye open, looking at your gorgeous face in the morning. And he knows it’s far too soon to say this, but it’s an image he could definitely get used to waking up to every morning before work.

“Yes,” you scrunched up your nose, a playful grin on your face as you ducked beneath the sheets.

“Y/n, what are yo- ahh” he moans out when he feels you kissing on his tip, and he was thanking himself for going to sleep naked with you last night.

You peppered his soft cock with kisses loving his quiet little moans as you did, so you took things a step further and licked his tip. “Fuckkk,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed while you did him under the sheets.

You smile, dipping your tongue into his slit and swallowing his sweet sticky precum. You placed your hand around his base, tugging on it gently and guiding his length into your mouth. “Baby, feels so fucking good” he runs a hand through his hair from the feeling lip caught between his teeth as he arches off the bed slightly.

His words only encourage you to fit more of him down your throat until his tip nearly gags you. You begin bobbing your head slowly and pull away with a pop. After a few good sucks, you jerk him off and trail the tip of your tongue down to his balls, taking your time suctioning each one of them into your mouth and slurping him up.

“That’s so good.” his eyes are in his skull. He’s sure of it. He’d never felt this kind of pleasure in his life ever, and needless to say, his release wasn’t far off.

You switched positions, swallowing his girth back down your throat and rubbing his sensitive sack. “I’m not gonna last.” he puffs out a breath and grips the sheets, whiny moans slipping past his lips and ringing in your ears in the early morning.

You hum, anticipation boiling in your stomach as he pulls the sheets back, finally to see you there, laying prettily between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him while his cock was shoved deep down your throat was all it took for his toes to curl and his cum to fill your throat. “Baby!” He winces and cries out as he tucks into himself, jerking slightly as you suck the high out of him. “Ugh,” he whines, balls tightening in your hand until you suck him dry. “Please s-stop,” he says but continues bucking his hips and fucking your throat. “Please, ah fuck”

You smile with your eyes, knowing that he’s loving every last second of it cause if he wanted you to stop, he could have easily pulled your mouth off his dick.

You pull away, giving him a slight breather as you let his cum mixed with your saliva, dribble down his shaft, and soak his swollen balls.

“Oh fuck!” He throws his head back, gasping for breath as his nipples harden from the sensation your mouth was so wet and sloppy, and he loved it so much that he was bound to cum again.

You use your other hand, bringing it up to his chest, tracing the lines of every muscle, and playing with his perked nipple. “Oh my fuck, y/n, please, please, please! I’m gonna cum again” his body language was enough to tell you he was close, and the twitching of his dick confirmed it. “Cumming” he moaned, and your chest fills with pride when you saw his body go limp at your touch. He throbbed on your bottom lip, giving you every last ounce of his cum, and you happily swallowed it all down, gulping everything until it was completely gone.

When you were done with him, you looked up to see his hair sticking to his forehead, body still trembling, and cock twitching ever so slightly. “Y/n,” he called to you, and you smiled as he reached out to grab you and hold you. He kissed your lips and pulled back, staring into your eyes with his completely fucked out ones.

Not only was he fucked physically, he was fucked figuratively cause he was sure after spending the night with you and waking up in your bed that he was undoubtedly in love with you, but he couldn’t say it now. He didn’t want to come off as weird, and what if you didn’t feel the same? He wasn’t ready to take that type of rejection after being so open and honest with you. He was literally giving this relationship his all cause he wanted you to be his last stop. Cause after you, He couldn’t see himself with anyone else even though it’s only been a few months, but he felt like he’d known you forever.

“What are you thinking about?” You booped his nose, doing a complete 180 to when you had just given him the best suck of his life.

“You,” he says simply, and it was true, but you didn’t have to know what about you he was thinking in particular. “Kiss.” You lean in, pecking his pouty lips softly, and he closes his eyes, burying his face into your chest, holding you as close as possible. Your body feels warm with happiness as he holds you like you are his, which you really want to be his, and you want him to be yours. You just wonder if this is a phase for you or if you're as deeply in love with him as you think, but as you lay in his arms and kiss the top of his head, your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest and you’re sure this isn’t just some phase you want lee heeseung the guy who first introduced himself as an animal in bed.

You chuckle at the memory. You’ve both come a long way since then and so have his flirting skills.

“Let me eat you out,” he says, breaking your train of thought. “Please? Or I can fuck your pretty little cunt or that tight ass” he squeezes your bottom, and you feel shy from his words despite the fact he did all those things to you just last night. “You choose, baby. Just wanna make you feel good too.” he noses your bare chest, and the once sweet moment is broken cause now arousal is stirring in the pit of your stomach. “Please let me make you feel good,” he whispers and peppers your chest with kisses as you run your fingers through his damp hair.

“Okay, hee” he smiles and springs up from his once slouched position, his eyes gleaming with joy now that you’re allowing him the honor of pleasing you.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

➜➜➜

“Heeseung, please hurry,” you say as he grabs a condom out of his pants from last night. He had already made you cum on his tongue once, and you couldn’t wait any longer to have his dick inside.

He quickly hops on the bed, trying his best not to keep his baby waiting. He opens the condom and hands it to you, wanting you to put it on him instead. He smiled shyly as you rolled down the rubber. Once you finished, he got between your legs, rubbing his cock through your folds for lube. “Gonna put it in now, okay?” You nod, and a gasp rips from your throat as his tip splits you open.

“Yes.” You sigh in pleasure, placing your hands on his chest, kneading every inch you could touch as you wrap your legs around his waist.

His chest feels tight the moment he bottoms out. It’s so good that his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open. “Ahh fuck” he groans, setting a good pace right from the start. “Never gonna get used to the way you feel around me. Just so fucking good, your pussy feels so perfect” his head lulls back, leaving his neck on display. You watch his Adam's apple Bob each time he gulps, and he looks so sexy on top of you while stroking your walls.

“Hee,” you rub his toned chest, clenching around him tightly, almost too tight for him to move.

He pushed your legs up to your chest, hitting the deepest part of you, and you screamed out, the feeling made you feel dizzy. He was so so deep, and his thrusts were slow but rough and every bit of hard. “So. Fucking. Wet.” He spoke between each thrust, hitting your cervix repeatedly as you clawed at his abdomen, which was soaked in your leak. “Gonna fuck you so hard just like I promised” he leans down, kissing your forehead, and that’s the last gentle thing you felt before he was fucking into you like a wild beast grunting every time he bottomed out, his balls banging against your ass, creating loud clapping noises along with his hips colliding with your thighs.

“Oh heeseung! You cry, eyes rolling in your head as the bed begins to squeak, which only motivates him to go harder until the bed is rocking against the walls, and a mix of arousal and sweat splashes all over your bed sheets.

“Like it pounded nice and deep, yeah?” he breathes out, snapping his hips as he feels you clenching, and he immediately starts fondling your clit. “I can feel that pussy squeezing so tight for me, baby.”

You nod, lips in a pout, tears nearly in your eyes from how good he felt. Your whines make his head spin, and he swears you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, all sprawled out just for him taking everything he has to give you. “Fuck it hard and deep heeseung, please, baby” Your meek moans make his cock impossibly hard, and he falls on top of you, stroking your cunt with all his strength as he plays with your clit and sends you over the edge, soon after he whimpers, cumming into the condom just seconds after your first harsh clench on his dick.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant endlessly and grip his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss while he chuckles and moans into your mouth, finishing inside the rubber. Oh, how he wished he was cumming inside you instead.

After your orgasms settle down a bit, you both take a little moment to breathe.

“Hmmm, keep squeezing on me like that pretty milk my cock” Your ears heat up from his words, and somehow, after everything, his dirty talk is still enough to make you blush. Despite him still being deep in you, you can’t help but feel shy.

“Hee,” you whine and hide into his chest once you both finally finish and the post orgasm clarity kicks in.

“You like it, though, right?” He smirks while trying to catch his breath and gain his bearings as you shyly agree with him. “I knew it.” he kissed your forehead and pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash bin by your nightstand before cuddling with you again.

“You really are an animal in bed.” his go wide, and you smile. Much to his horror, he really prayed that you had forgotten about that a long time ago.

“Y/n,” he whines and hides himself under the covers, only for you to pull them back and tease him some more. He giggled when you tickled him, and you swore it was the cutest thing ever. Once your little play fight ended, you were lying in his arms yet again. “Baby, are you hungry?” He turns to you, and you melt when you see the look in his eyes. You’re not even sure what it is, but every time you make eye contact with him, you nearly melt.

“Hmm, you just fucked the life out of me, so I’d say yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” he blushed, and after that, he couldn’t make eye contact with you anymore. He literally looked everywhere in the room except at you, scratching his nape shyly like he hadn’t just said the filthiest things to you just moments ago.

“You’re so cute, you know that right bun?” You lay on his chest looking up at him, and now it’s his turn to nearly melt. You looked so freaking cute his heart could barely take it.

“Why don’t you call me that during sexy time?”

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle and hit him on his chest, which only makes him chuckle cause you weren’t using any real force. “Next time, but right now, I’m starving.”

“Me too. Let me take you out on a little breakfast date. I was looking up places to take you, and there’s a place that’s supposed to be really good, and it’s only a few blocks away.” You stare at him fondly, falling for him even more cause of his thoughtfulness, but of course, him being him, he starts to overthink your silence. “O-or not, maybe we could do something else if you like. I don’t know. I just thought you know.” his words fade out as he plays with a loose thread on your sheets. He clears his throat and looks back at you before his eyes flick back down on the blankets, and you know what? You’re actually in love with him, like deeply madly extraordinary in love with him. Every little detail about him makes your heart palpitate.

“Bun?”

“Hmm?” He looks in your direction, a nervous look in his eyes and a small pout on his lips.

“Take me on a breakfast date,” you smile, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t say anything. He just pulls you impossibly close and presses his lips on yours until you can barely breathe, and even then, he has a hard time pulling away.

“Let’s go on a date!”

➜➜➜

The date was lovely, nothing too extreme, but still simple and nice. He took you on a short drive after to a flower park where you held hands and got ice cream later, and of course, he was just as cute as could be during the whole date. He stops on the trail, turning to face you, and you can’t even focus on the flowers because of his handsome face. “So, did you have fun?” He mumbled, and you could barely even hear him. “Y-you know, on the date,” he smiles bashfully, unknowingly squeezing your hand out of nervousness. The last time he’s been on a breakfast date was never.

“I loved it, bun.” You kissed his cheek. “Best day I've had in a long time.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he stares down at you. “Thanks for today, and I’m not just saying that. I really mean it.” And you did, it’s been too long since you had a nice day out of the house.

“Yeah?” He rested his forehead against yours and smiled softly as he encircled your waist. “We should do it again soon,” he pauses for a moment. “But, like, only if you’re free, if you don’t have time, it’s fine, and I can completely understand you have a life outside of me.” he leans back, and his eyes go wide. “Not saying you only make time in your life if it’s for me, bu-“You just shut him up with a kiss. He was so adorable, but he had a little habit of talking too much, but you didn’t mind cause you used it as an excuse to quiet him with a kiss. “So, is that a yes?” He searches your eyes for an answer, and you swear you can hear his heartbeat.

“Hee,” you breathe softly.

“Yes, baby?” He focused back on your beautiful eyes that were boring into his own with a smile on his face.

“It’s 100% a yes, but for now, take me home so I can ride you.” You smile and bite your lip. “Bun,” you add, and you swear his eyes rolled back slightly.

“Come, come,” he grabs your hand quickly, driving you both back to your house.

➜➜➜

“Feel good, bun?” You already know the answer by how quickly he’s panting and how his mouth is gaping open as endless whines spill past his lips, but you still wanna hear him say it.

“I- ugh fuck me,” he whines and grips your hips rocking you back and forth on his long cock. “I love it. Feels so good I’m gonna cum” he buries his face in your chest, your boobs smothering his face, and he twitches from the feel of you. Everything combined makes him short circuit. “So close,” he tries pulling out cause he’s not wearing a condom, but you just move his hands away. “Y/- oh fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut, balls throbbing as he shot his cum deep inside you painting your walls pearly white.

“Yes, bun, give me all your cum” you moan as he digs his nails into your hips, whimpering and filling you up with cum. You’re so warm and so tight around him he feels like he could pass out or maybe even cry cause that’s just how good you felt, not to mention how you called him bun just like he wanted you to. That nickname alone could make him cum on the spot. “Fuck I’m cumming, bun,” you moan, throwing your head back as he rubs your clit in fast circles sending you to the brink and creaming all over his dick as he squeezed your left breast while sucking on your perked up nipple. “Ooh fuck yes, bun” You grind back and forth on his lap, riding out your orgasms until your legs completely tire out, and even still, you roll your hips, savoring every last stroke and rub of his cock while he’s buried balls deep inside your puffy walls.

“Fuck” he hisses, watching the pool of cum drip from your hole onto his abdomen. “Give me a kiss,” he says breathlessly, and you gladly pull him in, pressing your lips on his. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes against your lips, making you smile at his compliment.

“So are you, bun.” You rubbed your nose against his, laughing softly.

“Shower with me dinner and then cuddles,” and who would you be to deny such a sweet, relaxing evening with him?

➜➜➜

“I’m so happy I’m finally here with you,” he spoons you from the back, stroking your shoulder lightly. You both had just finished showering and eating takeout. Now, you were in your pjs cuddling and watching some show that you weren’t even watching, not really, anyways.

“Me too, hee,” you sigh in contentment, scooting back into his warmth.

“Can’t believe I have to go back in the morning, though.” he hugs you tightly and sighs. You don’t even want to think about him leaving after the past two days you spent with him. “Didn’t even feel like a day,” he says disappointedly.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, bun. Let’s just enjoy each other with the time we have left.” You kiss the back of his palms, and he pulls the covers over you both, hugging you until your eyelids get heavy. And he soon follows suit, eyes closing as he settles into your comfortable body heat.

“Night, baby,” he whispers and shuts off the TV before falling asleep all cuddled up next to you.

➜➜➜

“I don’t wanna go,” he whined while you tied the knot on his tie before sending him off.

“I don’t want you to go, but you’ll be late for work, bun.” You peck his lips one last time and straighten out his suit jacket.

“Forget work, I’ll call in,” he tries to reason, even though he knew if he called in in his position, that wouldn’t look too good for him or the company.

“We’ll get some more free time together,” you tell him to lighten the gloomy mood.

“I know you’re right, but I still don’t wanna go.” he steps closer to you, hands wrapping around your waist as his lips hover over yours, his warm breath hitting your face as that little smirk etches onto his lips.

“We can’t.” Placing your hands on his chest, you push him back maybe an inch, if that.

“Why not?” He inches forward again, and you nearly cave, but somehow, you snap out of it.

“Cause your suit will get wrinkled and dirty, and you don’t have time,” you whisper, knees almost giving out from the proximity mixed with his smell.

“I’ll take it off, and so what if I’m a little late? Hmm?” When you can’t come up with any other answer, you stay silent as he smiles, leaning down to fully press his lips on yours in a very delicate kiss. “On second thought, you’re right.” he sighs and leans away from you, a little teasing smirk on his face, and you’re left speechless.

“Bun,” you whine, and he smiles.

“Can’t give out all the goods to you right away, gotta give you something to look forward to for when I visit again.” he unhands you and grabs his overnight bags, walking to the door.

Which you gladly open for him. “Bye baby, see you soon.” he tries his best to smile, knowing that soon wouldn’t be soon enough.

“Bye, bun,” you say sadly as you watch him walk down the steps. His feet feel like a million pounds, and all he wants to do is stay there with you forever, but he knows there’s a lot more that he needs to learn about you before he makes such a big step in committing.

A sigh left your lips, and you shut the door. Already feeling alone and empty, you walked over to the window, watching him loading his suitcases into the car. Without thinking, you quickly sprinted out to the car as he was backing out of the driveway.

He steps on the brakes and quickly rolls down his window when he sees you running outside. “Baby?” you don’t answer instead, you pull him in for a kiss, a kiss that felt like you were longing for him for years. You cupped his cheeks, and he let go of the steering wheel, holding your face the same exact way as he kissed you with every ounce of passion in his body that he could muster. When you ran out of oxygen, you pulled away slowly and rested your forehead on his.

“Call me when you make it back,” you say softly.

“I will,” he whispers.

“Message me after you get out of work,” you demand, and he chuckles. God, you love his laugh so much.

“Yes, mam.” his eyes fluttered closed as he nudged you softly.

“Promise me you’ll come visit again.” You rub your nose against his, making a billion butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“I swear I will if it’s the last thing on earth that I do.” he leans back, pecking your lips for the final time. “Think of it as hello and not goodbye,” he says and rubs your cheek when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile, nodding at him. He smiles back as he rolls his window back up cause the longer he stayed, it’ll only make it worse for the both of you.

He finally pulls out of the driveway, watching you wave at him until you’re no longer in his sights. His eyes start to water much like yours, and he reminds himself that it’s just hello and not goodbye, but even still, he can’t help getting a little emotional, leaving you behind after having the best two days of his entire life.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby?👀 your bun made it home safe

he sighs. It feels bittersweet texting you like this again.

You: I’m so glad you made it back safely🥰

You unintentionally swoon, smiling at your phone and watching the three little dots appear at the bottom of your screen.

Heeseung: My heart is missing you already, baby❤️🥺

Gosh, if he got any sweeter, you swear you’d die from a sugar overload.

You: So is mine, bun.🩵

Heeseung: Can you change my name to bun in your contacts? I’m gonna change yours to baby🥰

You: of course bun!💕

Bun: thank you baby💓

You couldn’t reply before he sent another text, one that was very unexpected.

Bun: My 🍆 is missing you too, baby. I swear I almost pulled over and called you on the way home🥵

You squealed and turned your phone around, laying it on your bed as you kicked your feet like a teenager.

Bun: Baby👀? Are you still there?

Baby: Bun, you can’t just say stuff like that.

Bun: Why?

When you read his text, you could literally hear him doing that cute little whine he always did.

Baby: Cause…

Bun: Cause nothing, baby. Anyways, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me 🙄 is, I miss you, I miss your smell, I miss your face, your smile, your eyes, the way it feels to be inside you, and what I missed the most is holding you while we sleep.🩵

If you weren’t already in love with him, you would have fallen for him all over again right then and there.

And you almost typed those eight letters, but you held yourself back from doing so.

Baby: I miss you so much, too. hee, as soon as you left, everything felt empty.

After typing that, you realized how that sounded, but it didn’t feel wrong saying that to him because that’s how you felt. But if he didn’t want to take things further with you, then you would accept it. It’d be hard, but if you were going to put your feelings out on the table for anyone, he was definitely the one.

Bun: Why am I happy and sad while reading that?🥲

That was it for him for you to say something that meaningful about him. He knew that he was ready to take it to the next step even though it was just two days after meeting you and hours from leaving your house that text alone told him what he needed to do.

Bun: But don’t worry baby, I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise 🥺

Baby: You better be 🥺

Bun: Pinky swear🥹 Unfortunately, baby work is calling my name, but I’ll text you every break.

Baby: Pinky swear, okay, bye bun, I’ll miss you. Think of me💕

Bun: You know I will, baby, and Bun jr will, too😉

you rolled your eyes. Of course, he had to say something like that.

Baby: Whatever, hee🙄🩵

He hearted your message, and he was smiling from ear to ear his whole way to work.

➜➜➜

“So what’s his name?”

“Is he hot?”

“Is he tall?”

“Does he have money? More importantly, does he have a big dic-“ You cupped your hand over your friend’s mouth. It had been two months exactly since you’d hung out with them, but somehow, as soon as they saw you, they could tell you had been seeing someone. According to them, you had an “afterglow” or, in their terms, “after dick glow.”

“His name is heeseung, and yes, all of the above,” you said shyly as they squealed, delighted that you had finally got some action.

“So, is it official? Are you just fucking? Give us the deets,” Irene says.

“No, it’s not official, and yes, for right now, we’re just fucking” you whispered the last part. “I think?”

“What do you mean you think you either know or you don’t.”

“Well, okay, tell me what you guys think. I met him two months ago. He’s made time for me every day of the week, no matter the time, and doesn’t leave any of my messages on read. He always wants to FaceTime me before bed. He kisses me goodnight on the phone, and the other day, we met an-“

“What do you mean you met? What was happening before?”

“I met him on Tinder.” The loud sighs and gasps you heard were definitely warranted, but Bun was different from the rest. He was sweet and caring.

“Met him on Tinder, he swipe left on bitches, and he don’t even scroll through insta less he going through-“ she looked at Wendy, and then they both turned to you, smiling and singing the last line in unison. “My pictures”

“Guys!” You whisper shouted to gain their attention again.

They both scoffed at you for killing their vibe and told you what they thought about him. “Red flag, ditch him.”

“Yep, move on to the next. Out with the old,” Irene agreed. “Why are you even on Tinder?”

You glared at them, already judging your baby before they knew anything about him. “Well, let me finish when we met, he took me out on dates, he never tried forcing himself on me, and he even looked up places in my area where we could do things together, isn’t that sweet? Not to mention the four hour drive he took, and he never once asked me to drive to him.” You look at your group of friends, hoping that you weren’t being delusional about him, and when you heard the awe’s, the swooning, and them saying he was cute, you were relieved, to say the least, not that you ever doubted him though you just didn’t want your desperation for a relationship clouding your better judgment.

“So are you sure you’re just fucking? And things aren’t official cause, girl,” she fanned herself, and you chuckled.

“What spell did you put on him?” Wendy joked, taking another shot.

“The important question is, do you want things to be official?” Your table got a little serious at the mention of you dating someone after so long.

“I really, really want it to be,” you sighed. “But if things don’t work out this time, it’s not like I’m gonna go looking for someone new.” If things didn’t go as planned with heeseung, then there’s no way you could give someone else another shot so soon after getting comfortable and getting to know him so well it’d be hard to move on so quickly.

“Aww honey, there’s not a doubt in my mind after everything you said. I’m sure he wants the same,” Irene comforted.

You smile, thankful for their encouraging words, but of course, them being them, and with the few drinks in their system that they got from the bar, you knew something unsavory was about to be said.

“So, how was he in bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh my gosh,” you buried your face in your hands. There’s no way you could go into detail about everything you did with him. Even if you had ten shots, they couldn’t get that information out of you. “You’re drunk,” you laugh and push her away from you after your little talk. You finished the night texting heeseung here and there, and they teased you for the nicknames you gave each other, but you knew they were just teasing, and they thought you two were cute.

➜➜➜

Heeseung wanted you to text him when you got home, and that’s exactly what you did after taking off your heels.

Baby: Bunny~💙

Bun: Baby!🥰, did you enjoy your girl's night out pretty?

Baby: I did. I would ask if you enjoyed work, but I know you probably didn’t ☹️

Bun: Actually, baby, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t all too bad.

It wasn’t bad because he got his vacation time approved just so he could see you as soon as you had time off.

Baby: Yeah? I’m glad.

You smile. At least he didn’t have a bad day on his first day back.

Bun: yeah, and baby, speaking of work, when’s your next weekend off?👀

Baby: The one after next, why do you have it off as well?

The excitement was rising at the idea of seeing him again so soon, but it died down immediately when he responded.

Bun: Unfortunately not😞

He told a little white lie cause he wanted to surprise you a few weeks from now.

Baby: Oh,

Your whole mood just completely deflated.

Baby: When are you free again, bun?

Bun: Not for a while, baby, I’m sorry😔 but Bun will call you every day and text you every day pinky swear👀

Baby: Pinky swear🩵🐇

Bun: That’s my baby.

He smiled at the little bunny emoji he loved when you called him bun it made him feel all giddy and warm inside.

After texting him for a while, you started to feel a little bit better, but even when you said goodnight to him and kissed him through the phone, that empty feeling was still in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were being dramatic, but you really wanted him there with you.

➜➜➜

The next few weeks were the same, calling and texting heeseung, and though in the beginning, it was enough now that you actually got to feel, see, touch, and smell him, it wasn’t, no matter how many FaceTimes you did or how many times you pressed the phone to your ear to pretend he was there with you nothing could quite replicate his presence.

Bun: What would you do if I was coming over right now?

Heeseung was parked outside a few blocks from your driveway as he sneakily texted you.

You smiled at just the thought of seeing him.

Baby: I’d give you a big bear hug and never let you go again, bun.

Bun: Is that so?👀 that sounds so nice.🥰

Baby: Of course, bun.

Bun: So why don’t you do it?

He texted you, standing right outside your door now after leaving his car.

Baby: Do what?🤔

you reply confused.

Bun: Give your bun a bear hug, after all, he is waiting outside👀

Baby: Bun, stop playing around. We both know you’re at work. You already told me🤭

After sending the message, you could have sworn you heard an alert tone outside your door, but you thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Bun: So, no hug?☹️ It’s kinda cold out here, and I was really looking forward to it, baby.

You toss your phone onto the couch and open your door, and low and behold, there he was, your precious little bun standing on your doorstep with a pinkish tint on his nose and that smile you couldn’t get enough of.

“Hey baby,” he laughs at your puzzled expression. He’d be shocked, too, if you did the same thing to him.

You couldn’t believe it. You stood there in shock. How was he standing there in the flesh when he was supposed to be at work?

“I heard from a little birdie that if a guy that goes by the name of Bun, he could come to this address and get a hug from his baby. Is that right?” He smiled.

“That’s right!” You finally gave him a big bear hug, just like you promised. “I missed you so much. How are you here? I thought you had work.

“Well, I may or may not have taken time off to see you.”

“You’re sneaky.” You pulled him inside, clinging onto him for dear life and never wanting to let him go.

“Maybe just a little.” he wraps his arms around you, waddling you both to the couch, where he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” You rubbed his nose with yours, heating him up inside and out. “I missed you.” You tackled him on the sofa, kissing every square inch of his face.

“I missed you too,” he chuckled and flipped you over so he was laying on top of you and riddled your face in kisses, maybe even more than you gave to him. “I couldn’t get you off my mind, baby. I swear every day without you felt like hell.” he buried his face in your neck, sighing in relief now that he was finally in your arms.

You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair, inhaling his shampoo, that faint mint smell you couldn’t forget cause it lingered on your pillowcase days after he left.

“Would it be crazy of me to say I want to move in with you and stay here forever?” He lays on his side, stroking your cheek.

You giggle and smile. That smile could make you do a million things, and you think that now was the right time to tell him, he drove all this way to see you, so he must feel the same, and if he didn’t fuck it, it was now or never, but you weren’t going to wait another day. “Heeseung.” You sat up, and his smile dropped when you called him by his full name.

“Yeah, baby?” He sat up with you, and his heart rate was off the charts.

“We’ve only known each other for a little while.” he nods, and you take a breath, grabbing his hand in yours.

“What’s wrong?” He says when you hold his hand and, he’s never heard your voice sound the way it does now, nor has he ever seen that expression on your face.

“Nothing, bun,” you laugh slightly, but he was still feeling uneasy. Did he drive all this way just for you to say you didn’t want him anymore?

“Okay,” he whispers.

“It’s just our relationship started out very uhh fast, you know,” you hinted about how, in the beginning, you both started out things that were of the adult nature, and he seemed to understand what you meant by that. “And it’s only been a few months, but I just can’t-“

He cuts you off before you were even able to finish cause he thought you were breaking things off with him. “Well, we don’t have to continue having sex. We’ll wait as long as we want, and we can talk more, yeah, baby? Let’s just talk and take things slow, okay?” He brought your hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss, trying his best to stop himself from shaking.

“Bun, I don’t want to take things slow,” you told him softly. You were so caught up in what you were about to say that half his words fell on deaf ears.

“Please, baby,” you finally hear him when his voice cracks and his eyes begin to water. “Let’s just try to work something out,” he said with a tremble in his voice when you looked at him confused and finally understood what he was saying.

“Bun-“

“Please, I’m begging you,” he sniffles.

“Bun-“

“I want us to work so bad, baby. I’m trying so hard.” he hugs you in his arms tightly.

“Bun!” You yell and break free from the hug.

“Baby?” He says above a whisper, a look of shock on his face. Did you really not want him that much?

“What are you even talking about?” You ask calmly.

“I’m trying to make things work,” he says blankly.

“Bun, I need you to listen to me, okay?” You smile and wipe his eyes as he nods. “I was trying to say that even though we started out fast and it’s only been a few months since we met that, i-i love you, bun, and maybe it’s too soon to say it, but I do.”

“W-what?” His body reacted before his mouth did, and he cupped your face with a huge smile on his lips before he closed the distance between you both and pressed his lips onto yours. “Oh my god!” he kissed you again. “Me too, give me another kiss,” You chuckle and kissed him again. “I love you so much, baby.” You smiled into the kiss, relieved that he felt the same way as you. Finally, you could say those words to him, and it was the best feeling ever. “I’m so happy you feel the same, baby. I thought the same thing, too, but just was scared to say it, but I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my little bunny,” you pecked his nose.

“Yeah, I’m your little bunny.” he tackled you down on the sofa hovering above you. “Told you I’m an animal in bed,” he winked.

“Is it too late to take back that I love you?” You joked.

“You’re mean,” he tickled your sides, making you laugh. “But why did you make me cry?” He pouted. “I thought you were breaking up with me well, not breaking up with me, but.”

“Bun, I didn’t make you cry. You chose to cry.” You teased him, and he whined. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t love you?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Cause you’re like perfect, and I’m weird and insecure and a huge over-thinker,” he admits to you for the first time this whole two months he knew you it was great, but the whole long distance thing really made him feel a little unsure.

“Bun,” you say, and you noticed those little details about him, but you didn’t know that’s how he thought about himself. You just thought he was a little shy and cute. “You’re not weird, you’re cute, and it’s normal to overthink. I did so much, but look at us now,” you pecked him. “And what do you have to be insecure about? I was just telling my friends about how perfect you are.”

“Were you now?” He raised an eyebrow. “What did you say, hmm?” He teased.

“Not too much.” You played with his hair.

“Good,” he laughs. “Don’t think they’d want to know how I had their friend begging for me the whole weekend,” he leans down, nibbling on your ear gently.

“Bun,” you moan immediately, even his slightest touch could always make you react.

“Don’t get too excited, baby, gotta wine and dine you first. Our reservation is in an hour.” he stands up, offering you his hand.

“You’re really sneaky,” he smiles, seeing the excitement in your eyes and he can’t wait to spend all night with you.

“Just a little bit,” he smiled as you go up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.

“Be right back, handsome.” You gave him that same compliment that started it all on the day you both met while smiling brightly at him, and he knew that smile was going to be even brighter when he asked you to be his girlfriend over dinner tonight.

So maybe the Tinder app wasn’t so god awful after all.

FIN.

Cyber sex taglist 🔖 @donghyckl @dneltrise @jackass1123 @m31j @en-thralled @rayofsunshineeee @heeverseblog @mimimovv @hwa-0403 @leeheeheeseung @ethelia @kaykay11sworld @heeanaree @isylvr @luvleyk @yeonjuns-sock @heehoneyxxluvs @cherriruto @ambrosesworld @whoslai @luvitria @iamliacamila @heeseungssidechick

Permanent taglist🔖 @furious-eagle @hoyeonheeseung @hee-pster

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #smut #heeseung enhypen #enhypen hard hours #kpop #fanfic #heeseung fluff #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung fluff

[cherryredstars]

I'm not done with my break, but....

Imagine Miguel or Price forcing you to take just the tip.

NSFW, 18+, Penetrative Sex with afab!reader:)))

His reading glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed in concentration as both of his thumbs spread the sticky lips of your pussy apart. They give easily, showing him the wet mess between your thighs as you whine and squirm in embarrassment. It makes him chuckle. You're the one who begged him to stop working and pay attention to you. What's the point of being embarrassed now that he's playing with you? Silly little thing you are.

The cold air against you makes you jolt your hips, bucking them closer to him. He has this dreamy, hungry look in his eyes as he examines your pretty hole. A tiny little thing that clenches around nothing and cries tears of arousal. Sweet thing really was crying f'my attention, huh? He whispers down at you. S'mean of me to keep you waiting, wasn’t it?

The embarrassed nod of agreement you give him is the cutest little thing he's ever seen. He coos down at you, and you gasp when the cold frames of his glasses bump your clit as he gives an apologetic kiss to your hole. No more crying, m'here to make it all better, he reassures when he leans back into his former position. He moves his hips forward, groaning when his heavy tip slaps against the wet paradise between your legs. He rubs it against your center, quickly getting drunk on the thick, wet noise that the movement creates.

The underside of his tip, and then some, becomes glossy from the juice you keep spilling for him. It makes his own slit dribble with precum, and he looks up at you. The sweetest pout covers your face, and you sniffle once your eyes meet his. Your voice is so whiny when you ask him to stop teasing, that you need him inside you right at this very moment. His cute baby, so greedy and spoiled because of him. His sweet baby that he can't refuse, but always knows how to teach a lesson to.

His thumbs holding you open gives him a clear view of how his mushroom tip enters your waiting hole with a pop. The creamy noise of his head brushing against your walls sound divine, dragging a groan from his lips. You expect him to push further in, but instead he pulls out to the point where the two of you are barely connected. What are you-? you ask, only to be interrupted by your own mewl as he pushes his tip back inside of you. The smile he gives you is devilish, shaking his head the slightest bit as he continues the slow fucking of his tip. M'teaching you that it's rude to interrupt people when they're working.

You cry out in both pleasure and despair, trying to move your hips so you can sink further onto him. He sees through you instantly, tutting disapprovingly. His hands pull away from your cunt, a large hand pushing on your lower stomach to halt your movements while the other wraps around your thigh and holds it in place. The muscles of his arm flex around your thigh, and he moans out when he feels you clench around him from the display of power. You're forced to take what he gives, whimpering as he feeds your desperate hole his tip.

The warmth and wetness of your walls drives him mad, his eyes half-lidded as they watch. The stimulation is insane, especially when you clench around him in a sorry attempt to convince him to give you more. He doesn't, but he decides to be nice and extend his thumb down, flicking at the neglected bud between your legs. You sequel the moment he starts playing with it, and he curses as he feels his orgasm building. He swipes hard and quick at your button, trying to get you close before he finishes. When your leg in his grip begins to tense, he knows he's got you right where he wants you.

You cry out when he pulls his tip out. Usually, he would hate having his cum go to waste, but he can handle it just this once. His thumb presses into your clit, but he stops playing with it as he jerks himself off. With a few rough pumps, his thick cum splatters against your cunt. It paints your skin a beautiful milky white, and he wishes he had his phone on him to take a picture. For now, he's content to watch his cum slowly drip down to cover your entire cunt. His eyes sharpen as he watches the way his seed follows every dip and shape of your pussy, loving the lazy path it makes. But he's fucked the moment it reaches your aching hole.

Your little hole can't help but clench and throb, trying desperately to coax some of his cum inside of you. So fucking greedy. He has to grit his teeth, the hand on your leg tightening as he realigns his cock. You squel again when he pushes his tip, and cum, through your hole. Can't let it go to waste.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x reader smut #miguel ohara smut #price cod #cod smut #cod john price #john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price #john price smut #captain price cod #cod captain john price #captain price #captain price smut #captain john price smut #john price x reader smut

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

PREY

PAIRING: Hunter!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Werewolf!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There’s blood on your hands again.

WORDCOUNT: 16.8k

WARNINGS: Intense gore, body horror, death, mutilation, weapons, firearms, knives, intended harm, violence, blood, descriptions of wounds, angst, fluff, protective!Simon, religious mentions, period time standards for men/women (1700s), etc.

A/N: The first of my reverse AUs is finally here! Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The tale of the Werewolf extends back to around 2100 BC. It was written in The Epic of Gilgamesh, scored into a clay tablet by hands long buried—a corpse forever still in the earth so deep, the bones have yet to be found by greedy eyes. Perhaps the oldest surviving story in human history, and there is still a passage that bleeds into stories hundreds of thousands of years later.

In such, Gilgamesh, a man on the search for immortality, rejects a woman for the reason of turning her previous husband into a wolf. 

“You have loved the shepherd of the flock; he made meal-cake for you day after day, he killed kids for your sake. You struck and turned him into a wolf, now his own herd-boys chase him away, his own hounds worry his flanks…”

And then, the tales spread, changed, through history and through spoken words of caution. Like water trickling from a well, down the shape of the wooden bucket delving deeper and deeper into a pit of age—of caution. 

“The Beast of Gévaudan. Man-eater.” Through France

“He has a wolf-head, you know? Tall thing—short brown hair all over him.” Through Scotland

“Beware the man that changes shape under the full moon.” England.

Now, in the late seventeenth century, it all comes to a head. Even the people in 2100 BC knew that someone who changes into a wolf, or some bastard-like imitation of one, was very much real; it is very much an affliction that overtakes sense and reason. A curse. 

Transferable down to the saliva of one entering your bloodstream.

You must never get within the beast’s sights. 

—

There’s blood on your hands again. 

Hunched over, your body quivers, and the bareness of your flesh in the moonlight is of little concern to you—trapped in a fetal position while the chilled wind howls.

Howls.

Howls.

“Get out of my head.” Your fingers grasp at your scalp, pulling; ripping. A sob jaggedly slashes your throat open. “Please,” you rattle in a fast breath, the grass snapping as you writhe. “Get out of my head.”

It had happened once more, and you can’t remember any of it. 

The forest is deathly still. No birds sing their songs—no breeze moves the long grass, patches trampled down around you as if a beast had staggered into the small clearing you’re lying in. Maybe it had. There are shadows that listen to your quiet panic, the low whines and gasping quivers of your throat; from behind the trees that speak in the way that only they could. The deep night creeps into you, and the moonlight bathing your flesh doesn’t push back the terror in your bloodstream. 

Your body burns like you’ve broken every bone twice over, and judging by the blood stuck in between every line and dip of your skin, to anyone walking past, the analogy could be very real. Fingers flexing and bending, you try to force out the venom inside of your head with desperation befitting a dying dog, spine visible out of the skin of your back as you sob all the harder. 

You tried to stop it—you had; you always do. But, just like every month when the full moon mocks you with its silver-hued face, it never works. 

It never works.

Your eyes stare at nothing as you lay here, in this place of grass, blood, and bile, of corruption as deep as a vile sin of flesh. It came over you like a wave, fingers trapping your throat and bearing it to the caress of fangs. There were different names for it here, miles from your village and the terrified eyes that search the tree line; names coming from the hunters and their black deeds. 

Shapeshifter.

Demon spawn.

Werewolf.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you shove the side of your head into the ground, pushing the torn earth away from the cuts of long claws. Tears flood the dirt until it’s wet and muddy, pushing the crimson stains on your skin away in long streaks. “It hurts, God, please, it hurts.”

The sound of your hysterics rises and falls in the stillness—the inactivity of fearful birds and beasts wondering if your fangs would rip from your gums and your claws would tear from your fingertips. Fur along your body the color of which leads to stories of their own spreading far and wide. 

The White Wolf. The Specter of St. Francis’ Village. A hound from Hell. 

More pale than snow, and sharper seen than a knife or blade through the black trees. Even if the memories of your shifts were fuzzy at best, there were flashes of those who’d seen your gargantuan form from the confines of their stone-cut homes. Those wide eyes. Yelling—screaming; sprays of blood as heads were separated from bodies—

“Stop!” You scream, your legs kicking out as your toes scrape the grass. “It’s not me! It’s not!” 

There’s a call of alarm from deep within the woods, the flash of torches and bellow of hunting dogs. They’re running you down, you’d forgotten that in the depths of your breaking mind and body, and by the time your elongated limbs had set themselves back into a more human-like appearance, your spine cracking at every vertebrae, it had slipped your thoughts entirely. It always took you a long time to understand what had happened after…everything. 

But even now, the shouts of the hunt are pointless to the visceral breaking of your consciousness, stuck between leaving bloodlust and knowledge of horror. There’s flesh in your teeth, and you wail before your fingers drag down your face, cupping over your ears. In the back of your skull, the panting of dogged breath echoes; running, blood, blood, blood. It’s a dance of fangs, of pale fur, staining every inch and flooding the back of your mouth. Drinking it down like water.

Flesh—lovely, disgusting, flesh rent and torn to the bone with smacking gums belonging to a square snout. 

Who had you killed this time?

By the time the dogs had tracked your scent to your curled body, it was already too late. 

“Here!” Male voices shift in and out on the backs of crows, hard and cruel. “It’s here!”

“Get the dogs on it!” 

“It’s not me,” you mutter incessantly, not truly understanding what you’re saying as hounds burst through the bushes, all snapping teeth and slobbering tongues your eyes widen in an instant. Panting, your jaw clenches; long whines move your throat. 

“What…?” Blinking quickly, the dogs surround you—having to be at least ten of them on their nimble legs and thin tails. Everything is distant to you; separated. A knife could be driven through your heart, and you wouldn’t even realize it until minutes later, bleeding out on the grass. 

The hounds are afraid of you. 

They dart forward and balk back, your scent driving them up a wall until rabid slobber drips from their maws. Torchlight pulls through the trees—quicker now, running. Fangs nick your shoulder and you yell, shoving up to your backside as the world swirls, shuffling away as the dogs snarl. Their eyes are red-huen. Drunk off fear and order. 

Your head darts and shifts, blood dripping off your chin to travel down the flesh of your stomach and navel—so much crimson that the whites of your eyes are violent under the moon. Hands slipping over the wet grass, your face pulls and slackens in delirious confusion as you try to stand but fail. You cry out in sharp pain, and the dogs go wild in their kill circle, nearly attacking one another in anticipation. 

You glance down and see the black crossbow bolt sticking out of your thigh. 

The scent of wolfsbane in the air only then becomes clear to you, and the realization is slow. Wolfsbane—you’d been told about it by the village priest. It makes beasts of the night dumb and weak; minds unclear. 

In a moment of clarity, the reason behind your incurable hysteria becomes clear.

Lungs heaving and eyes far-off, the hunting party bursts through to where you stay, and you look up in animalistic fear. Figures dip and slip into one another, faces becoming demons as the visages melt into twos and threes. You yell out, sniffling and sobbing, trying to back up until the hounds grapple onto your shoulder and rip a chuck out of your arm. Screaming, your hand moves back, shoving at its snout before hands staple themselves to your wrist. 

“No!” You wail, injured leg dragging as you’re forced back into a heavy chest. Hot breath fans against your neck as multiple grips pull and touch you—shackling you down with rope and chains. Your throat screams itself raw, kicking and struggling futility. “Let go!”

You’re too weak—too drugged off wolfsbane and blood loss. Rotting teeth move across the canvas of a smeared painting, you can’t focus beyond the riot of your heart inside of your ribs.  

Grubby hands snap under your chin, digging into your flesh as you cry, not able to move as the restraints are tightened. A silver muzzle is slapped over your jaw. Dark eyes shimmer as you rage—aggravating the bolt wound until fresh blood forms a puddle on the ground, which the dogs lick their lips at. 

“Look at that,” a low, lust-filled voice eases out, and hands around your body tightening as you squirm, head spinning. Silver and wolfsbane. Your eyes snap to fight the sudden flood of fuzzy heaviness in your body.  “Pretty little Hell-Beast, eh? Almost seems a bit strange to have the Spector be her. Think that hunter shot the right bitch?”

“Course,” another grunt, a hand grabs the top of your head, jerking it up as your head lulls along with the force. You can barely focus on the words being said. “He isn’t a fuckin’ twat. Killed a werewolf in the next village over, too. Heard he skinned the fucker and took its head for his mantlepiece—just like the vampire skull he wears.” A pause. The dogs are still barking—echoing out in the trees. You can’t feel your legs. “Isn’t that right, Hunter?!”

A shout is sent into trees as your panic breeds with the drug, eyelids drooping as your head is snapped and moved by your hair. Your buggy eyes don’t focus on the man until he steps into the torchlight, the crowd parting for him as the metal of your chains drags and clinks together. 

It’s as if the very blackness of night takes human form. 

The man, the Hunter, is tall—very tall. He looms like an aloof animal over most of the others here with his dark boots and his black hood, and yet, under the fabric, there is no whisper of his face. 

Only the upper visage of a pure white skull, and two long, needle-pointed teeth where canines should be. 

“Ghost,” one of the men laughs, groping at your bleeding thigh before you shriek, muffled from behind the muzzle, and weakly kicked out. “Good shot, Mate. Right in the meat of the thing. Gave a good trail for the hounds.” 

Ghost blinks slowly, grunting under his breath as the large crossbow in his hands is shifted. He stays silent as your visible pulse hurries on as if you were a rabbit and not a wolf, watching from under the cover of his hood. The darkness of his clothes is blue in the moon—silver buttons down the length of a loose shirt and pants stuffed into boots. The hood is attached to a jacket, which itself extends down to his knees and sways lightly with every shift. The silent resting of weapons and tools is not lost to anyone. 

Belt of filled vials and large knives; a firearm over his back, and two pistols hidden on either thigh. That crossbow was still in his hands.

Brown eyes openly dig into your soul, dead as a corpse, and your voice whines as your thigh is finally released with a laugh. Your vision blacks and comes back a moment later as you try to breathe from behind the muzzle, gasping. That skull on his face…you don’t like it. It scares you. 

And the Hunter only continues to watch numbly as his wide shoulders stay stationary.

“Get the cage!” Someone roars, and you flinch, shrinking until a dog with short fur comes and nips at your ankles, the man holding you grinning sharply as you sob and shake.

“C’mon—expected more of a fight from you, Spector. Getting bullied by dogs, now? Ain’t that a twist of fate, then. Bet this devil’s whore can’t even walk with all that wolfsbane in ‘er, eh?”

A grumble of chuckles as the rattle of metal is in the distance. You grow more fearful, mind flashing to a burning stake and the trials you’d seen in village after village. No—no they can’t put you in a cage; they can’t put you on trial.

They’re going to make it hurt.

“Say we try it out.” A shadow comes closer and grabs you by the arm, ruthlessly shoving you to the ground. You cry out as your spine meets the earth, arms and legs kept under chains that tangle and screech in their metallic way. The rope that holds the muzzle pulls against your neck until you can’t breathe except in ragged wheezes. 

“Go on,” they taunt, some holding back the rampaging dogs just to watch you flail and shimmy. Your face grows hot as you struggle to sit up—shaking so violently you can’t focus on anything but the quiver. “Put on a show for us, Beasty!” 

Death would be better than this.

Tears hit the ground as the cage is finally brought into view, the men all groaning and annoyed that you hadn’t even attempted a forced shift or a desperate run into the trees. 

Ghost’s fingers, you notice from the side of your blurring eye, tighten minutely around the body of his weapon. You do not doubt that he’s wondering if it would be easier to just put a bolt through your eye right now. 

“Get it loaded up,” the Hunter’s voice is accented and gravel-like. As if rotting wood is being peeled back and scraped along gravel, he stares at you for a long moment and then glances at the dogs. “And get those fucking mutts under control.”

“Which one?” Is the low-blow joke, and the ruckus of loud amusement that follows makes you want to die. 

It’s not your fault, how do you tell them that? It’s not your fault.

Your throat bobs in an attempt to speak, but you can’t move your jaw from behind the restraint of your face—held tight to you as the men come back over and grapple for you again. The priest was right, wolfsbane makes werewolves sluggish.

You can do nothing as you’re ruthlessly dropped into a silver cage, borrowed, no doubt, from the Vatican itself, and christened with holy water. But it was a funny thing, really, and the dark humor wasn’t lost to you even like this. There was nothing godly about this contraption.

Locked in, you shove yourself immediately into a corner and hunch over, grasping at your thigh as the bolt still leaks fluid in a long trail over the ground. The pain is so great in your head, that the physical agony is little—a bullet wound to a sliver. 

Your temple slams into the metal, smacking into it as your eyes shove themselves closed. 

Head hurts—hurts. I can’t think. Can’t think. It’s humming, my skull is breaking open.

Bile pools in the back of your throat, but the muzzle keeps it in, leaving you gagging as the cage is lifted with a grunt and carried by long poles; back to St. Francis' Village, no doubt, but you can’t…focus.

“Think you might ‘ave given her too much, then, Hunter,” one calls, slapping Ghost on the shoulder as the crowd follows after the panicking quarry. The large man only gives him a look from the side of his eye and the villager pulls away immediately, awkwardly chuckling before hurrying off after the others.

Brown eyes watch your bare body hunch and spasm, pupils wide as you’re carted off. 

He’d been generous with the wolfsbane, truth be told. He’d expected you to be…Ghost’s dark brows pull in from behind his grim mask…he’d expected you to be different.

Humming under his breath, the Hunter watches the torches disappear into the trees and lets his gaze linger on you. 

There was something…off.

Blinking, he turns, eyes studying the place where they’d found you with sharp attention that misses nothing—not even the birds that come back to settle into the trees again. Large boots shift through the grass, and as he’s re-settling the crossbow in his hands, his eyes find something glinting. 

Watching, Ghost takes another step and brings his body to the item in the grass, hidden, before he kneels. Digging with large digits, the Hunter’s hands loop through the chain of a necklace, dragging it through the torn earth until he can gaze at it fully under the light of the moon.

Blinking in slight surprise, Ghost finds the body of a silver bullet hanging from the confines of a leather strap. Brown eyes shifting to look over his shoulder, the man listens to the cheers and merriment of the hunting party mutely. A simmering understanding brews in his gut. It’s only one that you could know from years of experience doing just as he had—hunting and being hunted in turn with a knowledge of all things dark and unholy.

It could never be easy, could it?

A low grunt later, the man sighs out a deep, “Fucking hell,” and moves to slowly stand, slinking back into the darkness. 

—

They kept you in the cage and set it on display in the middle of town for days.

Shivering now from the cold more than the wolfsbane, you stay collapsed into yourself as people come past to poke and prod at you—even sticking knives into the slits of the cage and digging them into you like an animal until your flesh was marked and brutalized. 

You don’t remember what it’s like to not be bloody.

The bolt wound was festering; infected. You dare not touch it, because the pain only makes you want to vomit, and if you do, you’ll most likely suffocate on your own bile before the trial ever happens. 

Yet, on the fourth night of this, as your eyelids flutter and your body grows weaker, a shadow comes to visit. 

“You weren’t born one.” It isn’t a question, but the sudden voice makes you startle. 

Eyes locking onto Ghosts’, your mind flies with fear—thinking that perhaps there’s more abuse that you’ll be put through. But no…the man has no weapons on him tonight. Only a long knife at his belt. The mask stays. 

You stare, unable to speak as your fingers twitch.

Grunting, Ghost’s head tilts, gaze moving up and down as you curl in tighter around yourself. A cold breeze rips through the square, and your eyes clench closed with breaking will. When you open them again, the Hunter is kneeling by the cage, and holding up something in his hand loosely. 

“You going to behave if I take that muzzle off?” You nearly gasped at the hanging image of your necklace—a silver bullet on a leather strap; that dark and heavy thing usually kept around your neck. A reminder.

After a moment of wide-eyed staring, you nod quickly to his question, a desperate, pleading thing without the need to utter words. Please, you want to scream at him, take it off.

Ghost’s eyes are as dark as a mound of dirt, sharply intelligent and filled with an unflinching reality. He doesn’t care what you are, and he won’t until you speak to him and let him judge your character far before any courtroom can. The man knows what a lie is better than any priest. 

“Good,” he says curtly, accent far more deep as he thinks, re-capturing the bullet in his palm and standing before he shuffles it into his pocket. 

You can’t help the anxiety as Ghost moves forward, loping to the side of the cage with the side of his eyes on you incessantly. It’s obvious how his other hand lays limp on the hilt of his blade that, with only one wrong move, you’d feel the chill of the edge with no time at all. 

But the temptation of getting this muzzle off was too good to ruin, and so, you stay as still as you’re able as crows call in the distance and the deadness of the town leaks into your blood. 

Ghost moves his free hand and orders, blankly, “Closer.” 

You hesitate, body tight before you drag your face closer to the bars, angling it parallel with the metal so the tight bind on the back can be taken up. The fear can be smelt the second your eyes have to break contact with his with the turn of your head—neither of you trusts the other. 

Ghost hums under his breath at the sight of your broken body coming farther into the open light of the moon, the whites of your eyes all the more visible from under the slathering of blood and tears. He hadn’t been absent to witness the abuse you’d been put through, even if the coin from his successful hunt was feeding him at the inn, a small window allowed the tight view of your torment at the hands of the people you’d once lived around. 

But the reality was that you’d killed people—scores of them—and yet the worst part of it was that he wasn’t sure if you even knew that.

It took four nights for him to break his only rule: never get involved after the job’s done.

But the hunch he had was too important to ignore. 

Large fingers latch onto the knot at the base of your skull through the cage itself, Ghost grunting at the sight ahead of him. The rope had been gradually chafing over your flesh, peeling back hair and skin until only the bloody meat was left—Simon had to wonder if the people of this village even wanted you alive for the trial or not at this rate. You’d be dead by tomorrow if that infected bolt at your thigh wasn’t taken care of.

Despite himself, a part of his chest tightens at the sight of the thing sticking out of your leg, dripping a yellowish puss. It had been a good shot, and he had overcoated the bolt in wolfsbane. 

Ghost hadn’t expected you to be so susceptible to it—most werewolves only got slower, but you…you seemed to have a stronger reaction. He files that fact away and tilts his masked face to the side. 

Grasping at his blade, the sound of a knife being slipped out of a sheath makes you startle, jerking your head back and shoving away even as your muffed whine of pain falls out. Ghost momentarily readies himself for an attack, but the way you force your mangled body to the opposite corner has him grumbling out a hard, “Easy.” 

The Hunter raises the blade, watching you with unblinking eyes. Your body shakes; panting. It was like calming a feral dog.

“You want the thing off or not? Have to cut it.” Once more, the man rises and walks over, boots almost silent over the small raised platform the cage had been set on like a trophy, you inside are comparable to the golden coins that greedy eyes touch and run their dirty hands over. 

Your mind is a troubled thing as you watch this Hunter and his crude knife come closer, kneeling again, and motioning with two fingers to shift your head. 

“Out ‘ere,” Ghost says, brown eyes not letting you guess anything about his true motives. “Don’t have time to fuck around. Guards’ll make a round soon and I’d rather not get caught wide-eyed.” 

Your brows pull in, hands clenching and unclenching in your lap as goosebumps travel the length of every limb. You were tired—hungry and thirsty; there were open wounds that burned with infection and ones that were crusted over with dirt and grime. You can’t feel your toes, and the tips of your fingers have long since gone numb. 

The thought of getting this muzzle off was like the promise of heaven being dangled in front of your nose. Your hesitation this time is far longer than the first, moonlight glinting off the visible blade in Ghost’s hand as he stares. That mask holds death. 

The hood is gone from him—only that pale bone left and sewn into dark, dark, fabric. The sharpness of the teeth leaves your throat bobbing in a nervous swallow as your head carefully shifts to rest on the bars. Bending, you present the knot once more and try not to focus on the way Ghost’s attention is fully on your expanding lungs; the pulse that is seen through the meat of your neck. 

But he says nothing before his fingers once more grasp the rope and the tip of the knife slips up. You don’t even feel it before the sudden slackening of the muzzle, and then the thing slips from your face before it slaps the bottom of the cage with a dull thump. 

The first thing you do is vomit. 

Spine pulling in, your body jerks as the bile that had been in the back of your throat rockets out, restrained hands slapping the ground as the acidic concoction leaks from between your torn lips. Face on fire, you choke and retch for what seems like minutes before you can finally breathe in the damp air—the innate shame and disgust rolling through as you cough raggedly. 

It’s only after you’d forgotten the man kneeling outside that he seems to remind you of his presence with a grumble. 

“Breathe. It’s no use if you can’t speak to me.”

A weak, quivering glare comes across your eyes, saliva dripping off your chin as your tongue moves to lick at your lips. But the brown gaze is as immovable as stone. Finding it pointless, your hands come up and delicately touch the base of your skull, only making you flinch when the fresh blood pools down and over your neck, licking at your shoulders. Tiny droplets fall to hit the metal one at a time. 

Ghost’s fingers twitch as he puts the knife away. 

“Who bit you?” You stare at him, hands falling before your wrists rub at the aggravated skin of your jaw. He shifts his head, voice slow but heavy. “Speak.”

“...I’m not a dog,” your voice is scratchy, hoarse. You send a small glance his way, mouth open and nostrils flaring in an attempt to bring in the oxygen you’d been lacking. 

“Really?” A hidden eyebrow is slowly raised. “Hell, coulda fooled me.” 

“Damn you,” you whisper, not meeting his gaze as you shuffle back. The crossbow bolt catches on one of the cage’s bars and you bite on your lip to stop the shrill yell that threatens to exit. Head moving, you lightly slam your skull into the wall in pain. 

Breath hitched, you clench your trembling jaw tight. 

“Speak or don’t,” Ghost grunts, and he makes a move to stand. “Your funeral.” 

A spark of fear stabs you as he begins to shift, and you can’t explain why. Perhaps it was because it was the first conversation you can remember having lately that wasn’t one-sided or on the edge of a blade.

“W-wait,” you stutter, blinking through the blood. The Hunter doesn’t slow, and then he’s on his feet and fixing the gloves over his fingers, flexing his hands before his foot begins to pivot— 

“Please, don’t go,” your voice is thin and pleading, echoing through the street. “I’ll answer your questions, any of them you want,” the sentence cracks through a dry throat, tears welling. “Please, don’t leave me here alone.” 

Ghost had half of his body turned away before it went rigid; the side of his dead eyes flash to you, swirling with specs of moonlit silver. A hunter and a werewolf lock gazes, great beasts respectively brought together in seconds that seep into slow minutes of delicate need.

Knowledge and company. Understanding and a horrible fellowship. 

The Hunter’s eyes twitch in their ever-narrow resting place, glancing away before he mutely moves back to where he was before. 

He wastes no time.

“Who bloody bit you?” 

You stifle a pathetic sigh of great relief, taking company with a man who had shot you not days before. Yet the ability to speak and be heard was a commodity that was dimming each and every day.

“It was already fully turned,” you speak quickly, tongue tripping. “A big wolf—a gray one with eyes like the sky.” 

Ghost glares to the side. Gray? There were no contracts for gray werewolves with blue eyes in the area. Only you—only Specter. The next question is just as stiff. 

“When?”

“Three years ago,” your lips move. “Only three years, I promise.” Brown eyes narrow slowly, fingers tapping the fabric of his pants once before he makes a noise in the back of his throat. Ghost’s jaw clenches, mind working through the hoops that need to be jumped. 

To you, the questions might seem pointless, but to a hunter, they were important—very important. Werewolves who are born afflicted with this moon-drunkenness are different from those turned by a bite. Not only are shifts from turned werewolves more violent, more deadly, but they rarely know their own actions from that of the frenzy under their skin; those that are born as such are rarely out of control, unlike your faction. 

The only question now was if Ghost could condemn you to death when it was obvious your human form was entirely different and you had no semblance of an idea of what was going on. Was it even his problem to care about? Even looking at you now, the man blinked away from cuts and inflicted injuries—the muzzle on the ground. 

The blood and the bolt.

He’d known it had been a foolish play to bring all of those townsfolk with him on this hunt but he needed their knowledge of the terrain; he hadn’t passed through St. Francis’ before. At the time, Ghost hadn’t been averse to assistance as long as he got the job done in his own fashion: capture or kill, the contract had stated. Rarely was he known for capture.

Maybe, deep down, he’d known something was already wrong about this.

“Show me it,” the Hunter grunts, staring you down, a deep anticipation growing in his bones. He had to make sure you weren’t lying.

You lick your lips, face pulling with every twitch and sway of your form. The black at the edges of your vision was coming back, and you blinked quickly, chains dragging before you shifted your back with a quivering breath. The punctures were difficult to see through all of the gore, but Ghost made do as he grabbed at the waterskin at his waist and the rag hanging from his belt. 

Flooding the fabric in the lukewarm water, he hums out a firm, “Don’t move. Cleanin’ it,” before you feel the press of the rag to your back. 

Gasping lightly, you almost jerk away before the sensation becomes a nearly welcomed one—the drag and slight scrape of rough material. Your averted eyes dip lower, staring at nothing as your heart momentarily slows to a normal pace. Ghost cleans the areas where the swell of scar tissue is the most obvious, and, one by one, the violent groves spread out like a slash of paint over canvas. Along the left side of your waist, the blood gives way to a dented ‘v’ shape of healed punctures. Deep, dragging; a point to where your side was almost ripped away before it broke off swiftly. 

Ghost’s dark eyes fight the need to widen, and that hidden blankness stays. 

A great gray wolf with blue eyes…

His mask tilts, head shifting as his gaze moves slowly. Gloved fingers twitch to touch them, moving in an almost examining way that befits a surgeon and not a decapitator. Your breath is held in the back of your throat, but you sag nearly entirely into the bars of the cage, growing more unsteady by the second. 

The scent of infection is so strong it makes your head burn, and you’re overtaken by it as Ghost’s presence suddenly disappears. 

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours before you understand that you’re alone again, but when your limp neck finally turns to wonder where your silent captor is, you are greeted with nothing but moonlight. Blinking through the sludge behind your eyes, the sinking in your gut was stark and sudden—like a knife dragging itself from gullet to navel. 

But all you offer is a light whine as more blood moves to cover the places where Ghost’s rag had just cleaned. You were scared of him, no doubt. A hunter through and through down to the vampiric skull on his face and the shroud of death at every inch of his form. 

He’d shot you and drugged you with wolfsbane. Found your necklace. 

So why had he talked to you?

Your head is too muddled for this, too delicate. Like the crimson under your nails, it dries and flakes off of your brain as the lack of distraction breeds stored agony. There wasn’t anything left to focus on besides the upcoming trial, your death, and the pain that doesn’t let you sleep except for now, on the brink of not rest but unconsciousness. 

And at the sound of a key being slotted into the silver of your cage’s door, only then does your body slump with the weight of doom. 

You don’t even feel the hand that grasps at your ankle.

—

The sway of the horse makes your teeth clatter with every clop of hooves. 

Your conscience mostly comes and goes, only staying in thin seconds where you feel the press of clean bandages on your afflicted flesh and the tipping of warm broth into your mouth. Grass under your head. 

Blankets being shuffled over your clothed body when you shiver. 

When you’re finally able to speak, when the horse is moving along and hands keep your back stuck to a strong chest, it’s a low, garbled, “Ow.”

Ghost barely blinks down to your head as it slumps to the gait of his horse, glancing before his attention returns to the thin forest trail ahead of him. You’d made noises in your sleep often enough—this was no different except for the fact he felt your shoulders flex.

Slowing the horse with a pull on the reins, the dappled mare settles to a walk. 

“You up, then?” Ghost hums, his hand around your waist tightening as you groan under your breath. “Good. Thought I was dragging a corpse—would have wasted my bandages.” 

Your eyes shudder as they open into the light, having to focus on moving them before the sting of the sun makes them water. But you do, and then the confusion outweighs the numb stinging of tended wounds. 

Head shifting, you look behind you slowly with wide eyes as the horse under both of you snorts.

Brown eyes watch you before a dark brow twitches upward. “What is it?” 

You just blink, mouth slightly open. 

“Where…am I?” 

“Forest.” Ghost states matter-of-factly. 

If you had the energy to glare, you would have. Seeing that nothing will get the man into a proper conversation—he was a brick wall even now—you look down at yourself and land on the scarred forearm that keeps you secure on the saddle. Ghost’s gloves were still on, but the sleeve of his dark shirt had ridden back to his upper forearm, and in the wake of pale skin, you find the black ink of all manner of warfare. 

Werewolf skulls; vampire fangs and fire. The slash of inkish chains with skeletons. 

Your lips thin, your senses slowly becoming your friend again as you stare at the snarling face of a needle-hewn wolf. Eyes tightening as the horse moves to the left, your body follows the reactive action before Ghost’s pressure tightens once more, visibly veins behind the pale flesh. You move on, seeing the thin tunic and pants over your body—feeling under that, the bind of wrappings with the scents of mashed yarrow leaves in the fabric. 

They’d been re-applied recently, too. 

“Stay still unless you want to re-open them,” Ghost utters, eyes scanning the trees for unseen threats. It was midday by now, the sun high above the trees watching the both of you on your trek to seemingly nowhere. “We’re far enough away, but I want more distance before I take the time to close them fully.”  

“The trial,” your arm moves up, fingers grazing the side of your nose before it falls back down. Ghost can feel the air heat with unease. “The…the cage?”

“Trial was two days ago,” he draws, thighs shifting over the saddle. “Give or take.” 

The confession isn’t as shocking now that you have woken up here, but the lack of remembrance on your part of that time startles you. It’s a blank slate—just like the aftermath of your shifts. You don’t like not knowing. 

The next question comes out with a haggard cough, sweat dripping off your nose. “Why?”

“You’re going to tell me ‘bout the werewolf that made you,” the Hunter grunts. “And you can’t speak if you’re lit up like a pig on a spit. Took you the night we met in the square.” 

Through it all, Ghost barely looks at you—always his attention keeps to the trees and the shadows that linger; seeming to listen. He knows more than anyone that they do. 

The horse continues on, your pain surfaces again, and with a shuddering breath, you fall into a fitful sleep once more. The arm around your body tightens, and the warmth it lends is accented when Ghost’s shifting gaze glances at the top of your head. He wears an expression he can’t name yet.

When the throws of fever pull their curtains back for the last time, it shows you the slats of the attic above your head, wood polished and clean as the heat of fire moves over your body. Pulling a large inhalation of air into your lungs, you blink softly as if clearing away cobwebs with a broom—willing sense to return in the few seconds it had flown away. 

The furs are warm. 

In the village, you weren’t anyone of standing. A simple woman—unwed, and, thus, unimportant due to the era the world sees itself in. It wasn’t all bad…namely, it hid your affliction far longer than you could have hoped it did. You had a small piece of family land passed down to you on the edge of the village, and that was where you stayed. Nothing fancy; a hearth, a large, single-room property with a garden and a well. You were known to keep sheep, a fact that had caused perhaps a few hysterical chuckling fits when, every full moon, one or two went missing, but it gave you the ability to accumulate money and, more importantly, an alibi. 

Who would suspect a werewolf to own sheep?

But this home already had a more detached feel to it—something removed. The air was sterile, somehow. Groaning, your face tightens before you rise to the palms of your hands, muscles quivering to keep the strength your stubbornness gives to them. Half-vertical, you turn and study the area. 

Square, the four walls are stone with mortar and clay to keep the rounded blobs together. You’re on the ground floor, a staircase to the far right while the bed is stuck into the left corner; a nightstand sitting void of all except a single chamber-wick holding an unused candle. A sturdy table with one wooden chair, a stone fireplace set into the same wall the headboard is level with, and a large oak door.

There are runes written on it. 

You can’t make sense of what they mean, but when you see them, your tiny-pupiled eyes slip to the rest, all placed at windows or near some point of entry—unassuming things until you realize why they were red in color.

Your shoulders tighten, and whatever bit of magic moves through your skin lets your nose pull to the scent of human blood. 

You clear your throat and look away, licking your lips with a dry tongue. Moving your toes under the two bear furs that rest at your abdomen, you notice the lack of earth-shattering pain that accompanies it, and, shifting a hesitant hand, you grab the edge and push it back a bit farther. 

Bandages with perfect ties meet you, void of any crimson staining. 

Truth be told, you expected more of a Hunter’s home—skulls; trophies. The town always spoke of burnt bodies strung up on crosses that mark the property of those in this profession, a ward and a sign of grim hope. Vampires mostly, wasting away in the brutal sun. Others as well. Werewolf fur and witch bones shoved in blessed boxes. 

This place is almost normal, you think, thighs shifting over the dip of the bed as your finger runs the white wrappings where the bolt should be. Your mind dares not go to how he got the thing out of you, and at the stretch of sutures, you take your curious grip off of it entirely. 

Looking around once more, your brows furrowed tightly. 

Where was the man? The hunter responsible for your current predicament? Ghost. With his vampire skull mask and his black attire—a hellhound with dark ink and intentions. More importantly…

Why were you still alive?

Your memories come back slowly as you stand, bare feet moving to the floor as the tunic over your upper half falls to your knees at the verticality of your spine. They creak a bit, the bones, at the ability to stand fully upwards and not be impaired by bars of silver. A strength seeps through you slowly. 

In the deafening silence, you clear your throat tinily and lightly itch at the clean flesh at the back of your neck where the muzzle sat; rubbed raw now scabbed and healing with the spread of natural oil balms. Taking in a slow breath, you step forward with a heavy limp and watch the door, glancing at locked trunks and cupboards, eyes blinking. Your muscles ached, but the sting only served as a way to remind you that you were still here—living. Few in your position were granted second chances. 

You’re about to study the runes at the door when you’re called to with the creak of the stairs in your left ear. 

“Wouldn’t recommend it.” Your head snaps over, blinking quickly. 

Ghost carries the leather holders of his twin pistols in one hand, the bodies of the weapons in them hanging as he comes to ground level one step at a time. Brown eyes glance over through the confines of his skeletal face-covering as he walks to the table, placing down the items. 

“Keeps the spirits out—smudge ‘em and the house gets haunted,” he grunts. “Rather not bleed myself again to get the runes copied.” 

You stare in mild shock, sound sparking from the back of your throat. “...Right.” 

Side-eyeing the markings, you shiver and step back from the door, silent as Ghost seems to focus on his task at hand—looking over his weapons.

Large hands running the metal and wood, the pistols in his grip shift as the drying light of the day streams in through the curtains of the windows. He touches them intimately, knowing every grove and dip until he tilts one and rubs away a slash of dirt from the barrel with his bare thumb. 

You quickly turn awkward, looking down at yourself and the bareness of your lower legs. It wasn’t lost to you that the man was the reason you were in this situation in the first place. 

“You shot me,” you grumble—not unlike someone who had a knife to their throat. 

“Affirmative,” Ghost says nonchalantly. You get a slow, blank glance and nothing more. 

“Have you drugged me?” You ask, heart speeding up. There wasn’t anywhere to go—not without an escape plan and with Ghost in front of you.

“Wolfsbane?” The Hunter shifts his thighs, boots moving over the hardwood. “Negative. Not yet.” 

“Yet?” An attitude seeps in, lips thinning. 

Ghost sighs under his breath, slipping the pistols back into their holsters. “Forgetting about how we met, Love?” 

“No,” you huff. “Not really.”

“Perfect.” Eyelids pull down slightly. “Don’t.” Ghost nods his head to the table's chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sit.” 

“I told you I’m not a—” A sharp, numb look makes your snappy reply stall itself, and you stand there for more than a minute before you find the pointlessness of this.

You limp forward and sit in the chair.

Looping your arms around your waist, you glare to the side as your skin crawls at the unblinking eyes that stare. Ghost rolls his shoulders, tilting his head. 

“What do you know about the werewolf that bit you beyond appearance?” 

“Nothing,” you chuckle hopelessly, moving a finger in confusion. “I…I don’t know why you’re asking me about it—it’s not like I had a conversation with him.”

The Hunter blinks at your sudden confidence, unable to separate your form now from the one in the cage; blubbering ceaselessly in a grassy clearing. But lesser pains always bring out someone's true colors. As long as you told him what he needed to know.

Ghost explains with a sheen of dull annoyance. “Every turned werewolf holds a connection to the one that bit them. It’s pack mentality.” At your blank look, his brows pull in, the mask shifting. “You telling me you’ve never come back into contact?”

“...No?” Your lips dip. “For three years I’ve been by myself with this.” 

Brown digs into your face, a small sheen of confusion slipping in to tighten them, around his biceps, Ghost’s fingers twitch. 

You lick your lips, speaking up in the impending silence. “I don’t remember anything after I turn. Is that normal?”

“For you?” He mutters, still not taking his eyes off of you. “Yes.” 

“I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going to happen,” you shrug. “But at the very least I want to try and understand why I’m like this.” You open and close your mouth for a moment. “Before you kill me, anyways.” 

“If I wanted you dead,” Ghost grunts through a half-amused tilt of his head. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “...You would be.” 

“‘Capture or kill,’” you huff. You’d seen the flyers; heard from word of mouth. “Right.” You sigh. “They’ll track you down, you know. They’re not going to just let you take me.”

“They won’t make it through the forest. Bastards would get lost on the trail.” The Hunter moves until he can grasp the waterskin from the counter, dragging it over with his hand. He tosses it to the main table in your direction after he comes back over, and you hesitantly reach forward and pull the top off. Ghost changes the subject back to his studies of your condition closely. Dark eyes slip down your front as your lips part to take up the liquid. “Before your shift, tell me what you see.”

Your throat bobs as you drink the water, thirsty as it soothes your dry mouth. You hum, but the inquiry makes your hair rise. Your arm wipes at your mouth as you lower the waterskin, a small thankfulness in your heart. “It’s less of what I see and more of what I hear and smell—blood; metal. River water. I…” Your chest tightens. “I feel my bones breaking and I hear howling mixing with whispers.”

“Whispers?” Ghost leans, eyes alighting with dim interest. “What’re they saying?”

“I try to block it out,” you whisper, not exactly answering. “Makes it go faster.” 

A long nothingness ensues. 

The impending night grows deeper, and then Ghost finally speaks again after you begin to shift with unease. He nods firmly, tilting his head as if it’s already been decided. 

“Next full moon, you’re going to listen to them.” 

Your horrified face snaps up. It’s a moment of stuttering before you force out a heavy, “What? No!”

He’s already turned, moving back over to the stairs and placing one foot on the steps. 

“Ghost!” You yell, face devoid of blood.

He side-eyes you. “Go back to bed. You’re dead on your feet.” 

And then the same man who shot you in the thigh with little remorse disappears into the attic.  

—

The Hunter was a strange beast.

The days the two of you spent together were mostly silent—left with tight stares and tense shoulders. Clipped sentences. 

Ghost, for what it was worth, gave you space in this small house; as much as you could get. He kept himself up above while you stayed on ground level keeping yourself occupied. You’d gotten spare trousers and socks, a jacket, and the bed was practically yours with how your scent rolled off of it now. Yet, you had never been permitted to go outside. 

You’d seen the land from the windows—careful of the runes, of course, and it wasn’t anything… ghastly. A vegetable garden, a single-stall stable with a dappled mare, and a beaten-down trail out the front. 

No livestock.

No bodies. 

It was only when you had become ever more curious about your lupine curse that you braved the stairs to the attic—one week into the impromptu stay. It’s funny due to the fact that Ghost had never said that you couldn’t go up there sooner.

You stand now in the flat room with a sloping roof and find the man making bullets. It’s a long table, parallel to the walls in the center of the room; dark and covered in all manner of books and tomes. Grimoires tied up and locked. Racks of weapons with markings and blessings tied to sheets of ribbon…it was something you’d never seen before. 

Studying it now, the contents were a dark fascination. 

Ghost fiddles with his silver shell, mixing in gunpowder into the hollowness. He doesn’t speak until you do, but he knows you’re there.

“Tell me more about werewolves,” you speak through the air, and he waits before answering. “The ones who are born with it.”

“Rare,” Ghost comments, and you’re stuck by how willing he is to tell you about this. He puts down his bullet and picks up another. “Harder to find, even harder to kill. Unlike you, they know what goes on when they’re running ‘round. Fuckin’ nightmare to pick up the pieces—bloodbath.” You thin your lips. “Not all of ‘em are murderous, but they’re unpredictable. Can’t help but make packs.”

“Instinct,” you murmur, coming a bit closer. Ghost pauses, looking at you before huffing in the form of a gruff ‘yes.’ Your wondering continues. “But why am I alone then?”

“That’s the question,” the hunter says slowly. “Need to figure out why.” Brown eyes slowly move to you. “‘Fore more people end up dead. Or turned.”

“Can I,” you stop at the table, standing opposite the man. “Can I turn people, too?”

“No,” is all you’re given. Ghost’s eyes glint. “And I’d rather you didn’t bite on me to try.”

Your face heats.

Your attention focuses for a while on how he works—prepares for something unseen. He’d said he’d kept you alive to help him find the one who bit you, but he’d also cleaned your infected injuries, bandaged you, and fed you. Kept you warm. Safe. It was far more than could be said about your village.

However, it was strange how Ghost’s stark muteness was something that you found in the darker hours, a small comfort. When the moon was coming in from the windows, and you hid from its rays as if being stalked down, he once found you sleeping under the bed on the floor because of it.

He never said anything, just offered you a silent hand and helped you back out with a slow blink and a tilt of his head.

There was a distrust, obviously, but there was also an unspoken nearness. No one would make any sense of it—you couldn’t either. It was like a wolf and a raven; something built on hesitence but necessity. You didn’t like Ghost’s mask or his brutalist profession of shooting his wolfsbane-coated bolts, and he didn’t like that once a month you turned into a rampaging werewolf. 

Comparable things, really. 

But even here, in this workshop in his attic, you saw the need for this—for hunters. If you couldn’t stop yourself, there came a time when you had to be stopped. Truth be told, you expected it to be a quick and final end. Maybe that was just a foolish hope. 

A silver bullet would have always been your final song, you believed. Perhaps the very one that had once swung from around your neck; the one you’d never taken off until now. 

But then, perhaps that would have been your own brutalist profession.

“Thank you,” you nod. Ghost pauses, fingers stained with gunpowder. He blinks at the bullet in his hand as you continue. “I know you don’t care about anything beyond your work, but if you hadn’t gotten me out of that cage they would have burned me alive. Skinned me.” Your tongue pokes out of the side of your mouth. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t have been kind. Job or not…thank you for getting me out of there.” 

“I shot you,” he utters, voice gravel. Ghost seemed confused.

Your lips flick. “I never said I forgave you for that part.”

A smooth chuckle wafts out over the attic and your own softly mirrors. Your head tilts somewhat quizzically. “But, about that…did you mean to put so much wolfsbane on it?”

Ghost shakes his head, grumbling. A small sense of honesty leaks out. “...Expected you to be bigger.”

You blink, and then, a few seconds later, a loud snort echoes like a ringing bell. 

The Hunter's unimpressed look only leads you to find him all the more enjoyable. “Shut it. Fuckin’ hell.”

A hand is waved from your party, dismissing the harsh snap. “Sorry, sorry.” You puff out amused air. “Spector not up to your expectations?”

Ghost nearly rolls his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t mind your company, at the very least he knew he needed to keep an eye on you for any potentially forced shifts or hostile attitude. What he hadn’t expected was to find you so…different from your muzzled counterpart, your shared physical inhabitant. 

He could almost call you endearing if he wasn’t so numb to the sight and scent of reality. 

“Sightings were far between,” Ghost grunts. “Here-say. I took an educated guess—better to put something like you out of commission than drag my way out of a forest without legs.”

“No apology?” You try, tilting your head.

“None,” is the drawn response. “I don’t have regrets. You’re alive.” 

Your fingers touch the outside of one of his journals, tracing the bumps and grooves of age and wear. You hum, but don’t reply. Most of your pains have been pushed back now, even if you still weren’t up to full strength. Food and rest helped, but the anxiety that perpetuated only lengthened the healing process. 

When you can’t trust even yourself under the drunkenness of the moon, it only makes your fear of the sun worse. Everything made you afraid—most of all your mind; most of all, the future. 

“Why do you want to find the werewolf that turned me?” You have to speak this, have to push. Your curiosity demands it.

Ghost puts the bullet down and grabs a rag from his belt, mask turning to look your way as he brushes off his hands. He pauses, looming with that gargantuan height—natural intimidation in the span of his chest and the trunk that makes up his front. You find yourself in his shadow as he rubs at his fingers with the rag, taking it away and slotting it back into his belt a moment later. 

The man’s heat leaks into your body as he blinks over, glancing your form up and down in a single look; keeping a respectful distance but still making his attentions known. 

He stares. “If it keeps biting people, there won’t be any villages left to take up contracts from.”

“Money?” You frown.

“Principle,” Ghost counters, chest rising and falling steadily. “There needs to be a middle ground. Too many feral werewolves, too few people. Cut off the head.”

“Ominous,” your form turns to his, itching at the back of your head again—the scabbing skin. “If what you said was true, how do you know the thing isn’t already dead? If it hasn’t tried to get to me, what was the point of making me?”

“Because you hadn’t left St. Francis’ by the time I put a bolt in you.” Ghost grumbles, rubbing a hand on his bicep, itching above the fabric of his tunic. He stretches with a grunt—and you see his shirt ride up and the pale skin underneath. You gawk for a moment at the length of scars and brutal muscle.

“Charming,” you dryly utter, stuttering in a brief second of pulling back your senses, but the Hunter continues on, ignoring you.

“That was where you were turned—your territory. You stayed because your leader is still close by waiting.” Legs shift, and all of a sudden, a body is over you, hands are on the base of your skull, pushing your own away as brown eyes dig into the injury you pick at. 

Your breath hitches, tensing for a second as your spine straightens. You watch widely from the corner of your eye as Ghost runs a careful hand over the flesh. He puffs a breath, chest moving in a grunt that is both commonplace and expected, yet the brush of his chest to your shoulder is not. 

You restrain a shiver, nostrils moving to the overwhelming swell of leather and gunpowder. Bone fragments; the tang of whiskey. 

His skin as he runs a thumb over the edge of your wound.

“It’ll start cracking.” Ghost utters, and through his fabric, you feel the brush of speech. “Have to apply more balm. Stop messing with it unless you want stitches soon.” 

It takes a moment more of his surgical study and a small clearing of your throat before you can speak. Your mind changes the subject for you.

“So…if my bite can’t turn anyone,” you breathe, nearly sagging as Ghost’s fingers catch in your hair, shifting it under his attention to get a better look. He listens, you know. He wasn’t good at talking, but he always listened. “Why did they muzzle me?”

For a brief instance, you think you feel the Hunter’s fingers jerk a tiny amount—some reactionary muscle twitch that leads your body to still. 

Ghost can’t say why he did that, though perhaps it was the sudden flash of the injuries that he’d wrapped on the road back to his property that went over his eyelids. Or the cage—your pleading face aching for whatever small sliver of brutish company you can get. 

The silver bullet that he still had in his pocket, attached to that leather cord. He knew the purpose; the intent. Just as he knew the scrape of scabbing under his fingertips. 

“Control,” he grumbles, and it’s all he’ll say. 

Your burning face is somewhat down-turned, letting him do as he must, study what he can. He hadn’t made any moves to endanger you, and besides the upcoming full moon, there was nothing here that screamed imminent danger. Danger as a general, yes, of course. You were a werewolf in a hunter’s home—it would always be…your eyes flutter when his fingertips drag over your scalp…it would always be danger….dangerous.

Ghost doesn’t think you notice it, but your eyes are drooping. 

He watches after the slight shock wears off, a tiny smirk flickering the hidden skin of his lips after he realizes the reason. If you had a tail, he’d assume it would be moving in a soft arch by now. 

The man was mildly amused at that, and before he moved away fully, he had to stop himself from uttering a sarcastic, ‘like that, then?’ 

He had to remind himself not to get attached to whatever…this was. He was using you as bait, as some key to his problem. Not a companion. The distance here had to be firm and heavy-handed. 

“The balm is down in my packs,” he grunts, leaving just as his name implied before you had the chance to gather your bearings and the lack of caressing heat. You startle back to the attic room, eyes wide and face loose before Ghost’s retreating footsteps echo on the stairs. “Don’t bloody use it all, then.”

The front door opens and closes with a pull of weighted wood.

—

“I can’t do this,” you mutter, pacing alone in the middle of the night down in the living room 

The full moon was tomorrow. 

“I can’t do it,” you itch at the back of your head, peeling at the nearly healed flesh harshly. Your nails dig into the soft tissue, drilling like a knife. A bead of blood slips around your fingers, but it doesn't stop you.

It’s late—late enough to know that Ghost should be asleep by now. For days, the paranoia, just like always, builds until you are nearly as mute as your Hunter. No more curiously searching his attic; no more questions about his job or how he got into this business. Brown eyes had been lingering more as the days went by, this strange companionship growing. You knew, in his own way, he was…worried.

So silent, even he had been getting noticeably uneasy. Shifting legs and quick glances. Nights where you hid under the bed from the moon until lunch came around, Ghost speaking as easily as he could to try and coax you out to no avail. You, a feral dog with white-rimmed eyes. 

At supper, only hours before this panicked pacing, you had told something to Ghost that made him double-take. 

“If I can’t stop it…I need you to shoot me. In the head.”

He’d never answered, but his eyes seemed to get ever-sharper as the hours continued on. More tense. Ansty.

But…that was his job, wasn’t it? 

“Can’t do it,” you murmur. Blood slips down your wrist. “It isn’t right—”

“Spector?” Ghost’s voice had become so familiar to you that the only thing that made your heart skyrocket was the sudden call of it. Your gasp is sharp from behind a panted breath, hand flinching away from the crater you were steadily digging in your skull. A long string of blood trails into the air as your fingers jerk away, and it’s only then that you notice the deep pangs of pain.

Your eyes shudder for a second as Ghost’s form makes it to ground level. He comes over slowly, attention staying on the way the moonlight makes the crimson stains glint from the dripping line seeping into the sleeve of your tunic. He blinks, and you both stand.

The man’s skeletal adornment was missing, though the fabric under remained. A loose sleep shirt and pants, stained by the rays of night. 

“Let me see,” he sighs under his breath, a tiny rasp telling of the sleep he’d been awoken from.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you utter. He doesn’t seem to care, grabbing your wrist and pulling the limb away as his body takes up presence behind you. 

“Was already awake,” Ghost grunts, eyes narrowing in hidden worry. You calm down a bit at that, one less problem to worry yourself about. 

The Hunter, quietly, leaves for a second and grabs his pouch near the door. With a muffled command, he nods to the bed until you’re backing up and hitting the back of your knees off of it, sitting. 

Ghost lights the candle on the nightstand and opens his belongings with stiff glances your way. He noticeably doesn’t ask why you’ve harmed yourself like this.

“I can’t,” you say it like a plea for help. “Ghost, I can’t do it again.” 

Hands fiddle with clean bandages and take out his waterskin. The man douses a rag with the liquid and comes over, shifting onto the bed and lightly turning you so your back is to him—legs half hanging off. 

The hard press of cold water makes your breath hitch, and you bite your lip.

“It hurts,” you push out. Ghost knows you’re not talking about the newly opened wound. 

“Breathe,” he says to you, seeing the way your sides expand with heavy lungs. Brown eyes flutter from the push of his large hand to the warmth of your shaking flesh. “Tell me about your home, yeah? Heard you lived in your own place.”

The question makes you double-take.

He’s asking me that? Here? Now? Hours away from perhaps another catastrophe?

Yet, you can’t help the slippage of your tongue as Ghost’s fingers rub into your scalp. The rag is lessened, and, soon, the material is rubbed gently over the sore itch of weeping skin. You fight a whimper and reply with an addled mind. 

“It…it’s quiet. Calm. I always keep the candles going because I don’t like the dark.” Ghost works quietly and quickly. 

“There,” he grunts, glancing at the flickering light of the candle he lit. He’d have to remember that. “And?”

“I kept sheep.”

He pauses, and, without meaning to, a soft scoff bounces off the confines of his chest. It catches your attention far better than a bullet could. Ghost shifts a needle and thread out of his gathering of items, taking away his limbs only for the short while it takes him to loop the two together. 

“How many?” The masked man asks, amusement gone just as quickly as it had come. 

“Only a handful,” you whisper. Your mouth opens and closes, glancing over your shoulder as the candle-light spills out over the room; casting shadows over Ghost’s face, catching on his long eyelashes. Those browns of his glint like tree trunks covered in dew.

“Please,” your words are muffled. Eyes wide and fearful, there isn’t anything that can console you on this. “You need to kill me.”

There was a dichotomy to you—a violent thing. You didn’t want to die, no, you feared it heavily, more than the moon, but the truth was that you couldn’t keep going through this. The unknowing. The breaking bones, the blinding pain. The understanding that nothing that you do can stop it. 

“It hurts, Ghost,” your breath stutters. “More than taking off a limb, more than slicing yourself open and ripping out your intestines—it burns more than the light of the moon.”

The Hunter listens through all of it. He sits, he stares, and he hides the brimming sense of concern behind his dead eyes.

With a pulling of his eyebrows, Ghost’s free hand moves upwards and grabs your chin. Freezing, you study this phenomenon from over your shoulder, face on fire with eyes wide to the pale skin visible to your view. You hadn’t realized until now, but this was the most you’d seen of the man’s face. 

You could make out the point of his crooked nose—the strength of his jaw under the form-fitting fabric. Cheekbones and the heaviness of his brows. Wisps of hair. He had eyes like a cat, you had to admit; something sly about them despite the numbness that seemed to extend bone-deep. 

But his hands had been kind to you. 

Firmly, Ghost’s fingers run your flesh, and he blinks softly before a low sound echoes in his throat. He pushes carefully on your jaw and shifts your head back forward so he can help you. When he lets go, your heart quivers in your breast

“I’m ‘ere,” he mutters, and you feel the first stitch enter the thin flesh of your head. You take down deep breaths, focusing on the scrape of his fingertips and not the point of the needle. Ghost can understand the fear of it—of pain. It’s instinct. He tilts his head and pushes out, “I can only ask for one full moon from you, yeah? No more. I just need one.” 

“And if I can’t find the werewolf?” Your voice vibrates with emotion, staring down at your hands as Ghost’s chest brushes your spine. The scent of him was addling your brain; the rub and slide of his hands.

The Hunter’s jaw clenches softly. “...Then I let you go.”

It wasn’t what you were expecting, but anything from the time you’d gotten a bolt through the thigh was unknown territory, and, like a dog without a leash, you’d run into it. Your brows furrow, blood oozing down your neck before Ghost’s grip shifts to place the rag back again, swiping away firmly. 

“Go?” He nods, but you can’t see it. “But what about the hunt?”

“I can manage.” The stitching pauses. The air is broken up nearly a full minute later. “You’re not evil.” Before they start up again as if nothing was uttered aloud. 

The confession makes the sting in the back of your eyes start up again—a strong thing of confusion and vulnerability. Ghost continues his task, pulling together your skin one suture at a time until the injury is fully closed; clean. 

“Chin,” he lowly states, and you allow him to tap your jaw, shifting it up so the wrappings can loop above your ear and over your forehead—securing them. 

Even far after the blood has seeped through, the two of you stay.

—

Come morning, you already feel wrong.

Your body stays in bed, shaking—sweating. A large pain flairs in your chest over and over like a pulsing well in the earth, skin twitching with the spread of blood. Ghost sits beside the bed all the while, having dragged over his chair. He leans back into it, one arm over the side, hanging with the thing ever so often moving to rub at the back of his neck. 

You don’t think he’s moved since he brought it over last night; since he got another candle to stick into the holder—push back the dark. To watch, to study, or just to stave off your rising anxiety is another question. 

It’s only after the fourth time you try to rip at the stitches at the base of your skull that he finally grabs your hand and holds it silently. Now, his thumb moves over your knuckles—his gloves back on. 

At noon, he tries to suggest eating.

“Hungry?” Ghost asks. 

“No,” you say instantly, sweat dripping over your temple, your body partially buried under blankets. “No, I’ll just throw it up.” 

Brown eyes glint. “Just one bite?” 

Your mouth is already salivating—thoughts of wet flesh and blood in the forefront until you whine and shove your face into the pillow; panting heavily. 

Whispers dance in the shell of your ears. 

I’m here.

I’m here.

I’m here.

“Go away,” you whisper quickly to them. 

Ghost pauses, hesitating. After a moment, his thighs tense with the action of movement, thinking you’re speaking to him. Something swirls in his chest, but he starts to stand nonetheless.

Your eyes widen.

“No!” Both of your hands latch onto the Hunter’s wrist, fear a needle stuck in your gaze. “No, not you. Stay, please.”

A silver cage covered in blood slides across Ghost’s slightly shocked look, but he only licks at the corner of his mouth and slowly leans back once more. 

“Not going anywhere,” he says, accent dipping. “Tell me what you’re hearing, yeah?”

His hand slips back into yours, and he presses into your pulse softly, counting. The sun continues across the sky.

“I don’t like how it sounds,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s wrong.”

“Focus,” Ghost breathes, looming closer. His grip squeezes once. “It can’t hurt you.” 

You shiver, eyes tightly closed as tears burn the back of your nose. “It’s howling.”

A suddenly gloveless hand spreads up your cheek, resting there and pushing back the sweat that pools. It’s calloused—scarred. You whine, head spinning.

I’m waiting. 

Find me.

Find me.

“I don’t want to,” you utter under your breath, words an amalgamation of slurring gasps. 

“Spector,” Ghost calls, head moving closer. “Eh.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” your hurried panic is similar to a mind overdosing on wolfsbane. “Gotta go away—gotta get out—”

“Spec!” The Hunter’s quick bark makes your eyes pop open, and you lock instantly with brown orbs. 

They’re tight, unblinking just as always. They offer just a few moments of clarity. 

Ghost holds your head still while the rest of you shivers with cold sweats, you can hear the blood inside of his veins; his heart pumping. The scent of his skin was addicting to the point of memorization on the airwaves. You watch, gulping down breaths as your throat bobs. 

Eyes dart you up and down, fingers spreading out to offer what little comfort he can. The man wonders if he’s completely in over his head. 

Ghost pulls his face-covering up to his nose, and your heart skips beats at the sight of ravaged skin and stubble, scars spreading out like your own. Long ones, short ones, burn marks, and hyperpigmentation. He wasn’t pretty, but he was real. 

Oh, he was real. 

His grip on you strengthens until all you can focus on is him. 

Ghost blinks, and you see his lips move. The gravel of his voice was never more clear. “Fucking hell, keep that head on, okay? Nothing’s going to happen as long as I’m here. I’ve got you.” He sighs out a low breath, thumb running your undereye as the small dribbles of tears begin to sneak out. Ghost murmurs. “I’ve bloody got you, alright? Let it happen—we can figure it out.”

He’d grown fond of you over the course of a month. You were curious; not pushingly so. Honest. Good. You’d been dealt a bitter hand, and damn him if his stone heart wasn’t stretched thin at the raw fear on your face. This wasn’t your fault, but he needed to find who turned you and stop them before it got any more out of control than it already was. If more unstable werewolves went running through the woods, there wouldn’t be anyone left in the territory alive.

“When you turn,” Ghost says as clearly as he’s able. “Go. Don’t fight it. I’ll find you.”

“Promise?” You ask, a weak flicker coming to your lips—eyes vulnerable. 

Ghost nods once, and it’s all you need. “I’ll find you,” he repeats. “Doubt me?”

“No,” you ease, clearing your throat. “But…one more thing?”

“Anything,” the Hunter instantly says. 

“Just don’t shoot me in the thigh again.”

When the claws start protruding from your nailbeds hours later, you’re bolting to the door with only one last glance at the Hunter and his half-pulled-up mask. Booted feet hitting the wood as he stands, he lets you go even as his thighs tense in a need to run after you. Patience was his beast to tame, but it seemed to have left him in the form of a woman disappearing into the tree line. 

There is companionship in broken things.

Your body slips into the forest just as the creak of your bones begins to shift and bend. You fall into a heap, hearing the gargling of marrow under your skin like a call to sea. An urge grows to infect you; a feral need to run and hide. Biting back a shrill scream, a hoarse yell escapes instead—flesh rippling as your mouth opens, fangs breaking the supple mushiness of your gums as blood floods like a river. 

Find me. 

Find me.

Find me.

“Ghost,” you whisper, hands snapping to your head. “Ghost, please.” 

Your bullet, you want your silver bullet.

A rabid scream rips from your throat, and back in the house, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists as he glares at the open door. He growls under his breath, eyes tightening in a certain type of anger that brews in his gut. The nights your shuffling woke his light slumber were more common than when you hadn’t, and every utterance was clearly heard to his ears. It had become a curse to him—how you’d met.

A regret was seeping in, a care, and now, as he forces himself to back up and head into the attic, Ghost clenches his jaw tightly. So unaffected by the horror of monsters, he was now at a loss of sense for this growth of feelings. 

He wasn’t dull, he knew that some of the contracts he took marked him as a tool and not a person of stable mind. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, and he would continue to do them for no other reason than they were the orders he was given.

But you had broken a piece of that off of him, somehow, someway, your face had seared itself into his retinas—speared him at the brutality that your community had treated you with. The muzzle. It was cruel, and while Ghost was precisely that, there was a limit. 

He did his job, and that was that. Anything after wasn’t his problem. 

You became his job, and the one who turned you was an add-on. Maybe if he justified it to himself, he could understand his actions better. 

But he was already sprinting to grab his gear when the first howl shattered the night.

—

A white beast prowls the forest. 

It stands on two legs, but it isn’t human—isn’t natural. It’s taller than a grown man is; snout pulled back in a soundless snarl that puts dogs to shame with rows of teeth so sharp, they look like pale knives. Its feet—large, splayed—soundlessly skate the ground until clawed fingers slam to the earth. 

A nose inhales the scent above the dirt, tongue lulling as a shaggy tail lays limp behind a curved spine. In between the erect ears, under the thick skull of the werewolf, the rolling bumps of a brain spark. A pull.

Find me.

Your eyes are tiny black dots—and they blink once before you rise once more. A great growl moves inside of your chest, the large collection of hair around your neck standing on end.

I’m waiting.

But there’s something that keeps you here—standing in the grass as the moon shines atop your head, your fur nearly glowing even with the stain of bloody injuries. The remains of clothes are about a meter away; only strips of what was. 

Your gaze looks over your shoulder, and your gargantuan frame lumbers backward until you can stoop to them—nose once more sniffing with your arms reaching.

Your fingers twitch, blackened claws digging through the ground as a near purr echoes in your throat. The scythe-like additions card across the strips.

Gunpowder. 

Leather.

Whiskey.

Something you can’t quite name, but feel drawn to despite the tightening noose at your throat. There was something there you can’t focus on…something that you need. 

Your drooling jaws snap, saliva coating the fangs until they drip off one at a time to stain the grass. Body shifting, your head lowers until your wolf-ish visage rubs against the fabric, licking at the sides of your gums as delicate grumbles slip out of your mouth. 

A far-off howl leaves your frame freezing.

Eyes slipping back into the feral-inhumanity of a wild animal, your body jolts up, gaze to the forest trees and the rustling of bushes. The swell of rain on the clouds is in the back of your nose, and the previous attraction to the ripped clothes is lost as simply as it had come. 

You were being summoned. 

Ears twitching, the entirety of your body refuses to move to the sound; tensed and ready to spring on anything that moves if only to let off the spike of anger at the lack of control. The pull grows stronger, and it feels like something is trying to drag you away into the wilds.

This was the sensation you were always trying to fight—the one that led to the aggression; the hunt. You knew that if you followed that howl, whatever was left of your human sense would be gone entirely before you could stop it. 

Yet, this time, there’s a nagging need to find the owner, and you can’t remember why.

Your large head tilts, feet spaced as the curve of your spine grows more aggressive—hunching forward as you snarl at nothing, claws shaking as your fur is more bristly than sleek. 

Like pure white spikes. 

In the back of your head, a thin sliver of a memory slips in. Fingers on the back of your head, caressing calluses and dark, dark, eyes. Clean bandages and gentle touches.

I’ll find you.

If the side of your vision picked up the shadow shifting from far off into the trees, your curled lip never turned that way. If your nose twitched to the heavy weight of a man’s sweat, it never shifted to point as a mutt would to the rustling bush.

Your body bolts after the resounding echo of a wolf’s howl, and it’s no later that Ghost slips after your clawed prints to follow.

—

Crossbow in hand, the hunter’s mask gleams in the darkness, his pale eyes twinkling. Bending down, he glazes at the long pushing tracks of your form—seeing the spray of dirt to the side and the broken branches. Ghost blinks, shoulders tense before he swiftly stands and continues on. The firearms at his thighs lightly rattle, and the bolts in his crossbow are already laced with wolfsbane; silver tips smelt a week ago. 

He passes a river with only a single glance at the tossed rocks from the bed, sloshing through the water as the bottoms of his pants get weighed down. Ghost’s mind is on one thing only: make sure this plan won’t get you killed. 

The bolts aren’t for you—the silver bullets aren’t for you. 

He grunts under his breath, the dark woods casting phantoms over the ground. The Hunter’s legs shift through tall grass, and he carries himself with the ingrained confidence a man of his station requires. If he were anything less than a monster himself, he would have died ages ago. Ghost shoots and lets others come up with the questions, but he could never be called dumb. 

Seeing what fast glimpse he had of your shifted form after the last time, he was struck by how erratic it acted. Snapping head, twitching ears, and roving eyes. If he didn’t know any better, Ghost would have called it rabid. 

Yet, your actions with his borrowed shirt were…body-stilling, to say the least about it. It had made his gut swirl.

“Give me a trail,” Ghost utters to himself, brown eyes still picking up the dash you’d taken. His agile feet splash through a puddle, the beginnings of raindrops hitting his head. 

The man grabs at his hood and pulls it up stiffly, frowning under his mask.

Rain would wash away the tracks.

“C’mon, Love,” he grinds out, body hunched. “Leavin’ me to do the dirty work, eh?” 

It’s too quiet—even a collection of minutes later of hard hiking, the trees barely move. There aren’t any birds; no animals beyond the black bodies of crows in the far-up branches, waiting, watching with obsidian eyes that don’t blink. 

Ghost isn’t off-put, but the length of his strides gets far tinier, carefully stepping over twigs and rocks like a soldier at war. Then again, he was at war. And if he was caught unawares, there wouldn’t be a bullet to pull out of his side, but, instead, a chunk missing. 

His ears were almost ringing from how hard he was focusing. 

Brown eyes shift from one area to another, and then, suddenly as if a deer, he freezes. 

Ghost’s body winds up, fingers twitching from the stark trigger discipline of his crossbow downward instantaneously. No one but him can explain what just happened, but he knows when he has to listen instead of act. Stuck in a clearing not unlike the place he’s first met you, his feet rest shoulder width apart and his eyes stare blankly into the trees ahead.

Your tracks end here.

From behind him, just as the large raindrops slap the side of his bone-ed visage, the small crack of a twig makes his ears twitch.

A low snarl sets his hair on end. 

Looking over his shoulder, Ghost is met with the same color that he’d become so accustomed to in a full month completely blacked out. Void. Lifeless to anything besides rage and bloodlust. 

Your white fur was infected with dirt, blood, and leaves—a mosaic of ferality ingrained into your body; pale fangs snapping. The beast slips through the treeline, slapping a veined hand into the soggy earth. 

Ghost only watches, eyes a mystery. 

His finger shifts over the trigger, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates. 

The man looks into your glinting orbs, the dripping saliva on your lulling tongue as your esophagus pants for breath. One hesitation, he always knew, would mean death. One mess-up. 

You’d asked him to end it, he shouldn’t feel remorse, guilt, perhaps—he was still human, despite his appearance, but remorse was deeper. It left wounds that were harder to lick clean again. 

…So why isn’t he sending a bolt into your forehead?

Ghost remembers the times he’d found you under the bed, your shaking, and the way you hadn’t allowed him to change your bandages the first few weeks you’d stayed with him; didn’t want him to touch you. The nightmares and the small smile you’d gain when he’d spew his dark, sarcastic words as if this was a joke. How you’d always thank him under your breath for the food he’d give you, hunted by his own hand. 

A silver cage. Crimson blood. The sight of your pleading eyes when you’d told him to shoot you.

Maybe the two of you were far more alike than he’d dare to admit. And he currently won’t, not even on his deathbed. Not even now.

Ghost watches, and he waits. 

He can’t do it.

Your body slinks closer, stalking with the sound of anger, nearly rib-shaking in its volume. Ghost’s jaw clenches, and his body shifts to face yours head-on. At the sight of the crossbow, your snarl turns into an air-biting rage, saliva flying through the rain.

“Spector,” he keeps his voice low, even. The sight he’d seen as you smelled his clothes had to mean something. Ghost tilts his head, moving out a hand from the side of his weapon in an appeasement gesture. “I’m not going to shoot you. We have a job to complete…get those fangs away.”

He wonders if ordering you around will even work. You had told him before—you’re not a mutt. Ghost agrees. No mutt was the size of a fucking boulder.

The werewolf’s claws drag—goring the mud as if a pig to tear apart. 

“Spector,” the Hunter tries again. But something’s different about his tone; he drops it, letting it pull on a softer string. “I’m here to end this. We’re here to end this.” He blinks and lowers the crossbow completely. “Breathe. The night can’t last forever.” A breeze whips the trees. “I made you a promise.”

There’s a second, he thinks, where he can see something shift in your gaze, pupils slightly widening above the deluge that wets down your fur into a sopping mess that hangs off muscle.

“That’s a girl,” Ghost grunts, taking a small step closer. “Never told you,” he utters, eyes locked with yours. He sees your nose twitch minutely. “But if we get this right, Spec, there’ll be no more painful shifts, hear me?”

Your dog-ish mouth is closed, hanging off every word as Ghost comes even closer.

“I kill this bastard,” the hunter breathes, gloved hand still outstretched, nearing closer to the near-silver of your form. “The moon’ll have no claim on you. She’ll let you off the leash, Little Wolf. You get to decide when it happens.” 

He thinks he has you now, back to some state of recognition in the addled brain that tries to see him as prey; as competition. Ghost’s fingers are close enough to almost touch you, but just before he can brush his gloves over your wet fur, your mouth opens in a display of untamed challenge. Your growl is enough to make the man unconsciously reach for his pistol, and in the time it takes him to realize the fault of it, you’ve already rampaged forward with an unhinged jaw.

Ghost’s eyes widen, taking a quick step back. 

Your legs push off, and you shove the hunter out of the way just before the fangs of an immense beast can clamp down on him, your own finding the shoulder of gray, thick fur.

Fighting as wolves do, Ghost only needs a moment to recover and get to his feet, though the sight in front of him can rival any that he’d seen before. His crossbow clatters a few feet away, sending the bolt off into the trees with a metallic ‘twang’.

The two werewolves roll around the pouring clearing, snapping teeth and rending claws drawing blood that’s deep enough to swim in to the green grass. White and gray meld together—blue eyes like a knife to Ghost’s chest when he takes it in from between the sound of tearing fur. 

“Bloody fucking…” the man trails, staggering as his palms slap to the pistols at his side. He blinks, shouting in more of a bark than even a dog could imitate. “Spector!” 

The wolves pull and rip the other to shreds, flesh torn and limbs grasping for purchase. Bodies are slammed to the ground before getting tossed to the side, fangs flashing in the moonlight. Ghost watches crimson stain your fur a pinkish-red.

He can’t get a good shot.

The werewolf that turned you sinks its claws into your sides, dragging them downwards as you yowl, eyes tiny with aggression before your jaws connect with its snout, biting down with more force than a horse’s hooves. The monster screams—a garbed thing of fangs and saliva. 

Just as easily as it called you here to it, as it stalked your Hunter, it bashes your body back into the earth and takes you by the scruff of your neck. Eyes wide in that lupine way, you lock on Ghost’s profile before your body is lifted, and tossed away violently. 

Spine slamming into a tree, you hear the cracking and bending of your bones in your ears just after you hear the sharp shout from the man in the clearing, body dropping to a heap into the grass and mud. Angled head flopping back and forth, black infests the edges of your vision, coughing up blood that seeps from between your gums and slips down the back of your esophagus. Fur and flesh are stuck at the base of your throat. 

Whining, your limbs drag and pull futility, eyes flooded over with crimson and fogged by rain. A great roar worries the air, sending long shivers over your spine as you try to rise to your limbs, a five-fingered hand slamming you back down. 

Just before the fangs can clamp your throat, two great booms burst through the forest. 

The wolf atop you reels back, great bellow escaping its throat when you can finally drag your head to look over. This beast was clawing at its chest, shaking its large head in an arch to try and dispel the shock of having two silver bullets entering its back—the gray head snapped around to Ghost, who held his twin pistols aloft with eyes burning with anger from behind his mask. An avatar of vengeance; a bringer of death. 

The orbs inside of your sockets widened, nose twitching wildly as you bleat a quick warning bark. 

Blue-Eyes rises, body far larger than yours would ever grow to be—on two feet more powerful looking than a bricklayer many years into his craft; tall enough to reach to the sides of black-shingled homes and pull itself up. Ghost takes one look and growls under his breath, knowing there would be no time to reload the weapons in his hands. 

So he drops them and pulls slowly at the cruel blade in his belt until the gleam winks in the low light like a curved smile. Setting it in his hands, the small flicker of a sharp smirk on his lips is lost to you. 

Yet, there isn’t a chance for some brawl between two beasts—there’s only the flash of pale fur and the final crunch of a body hitting the ground. 

You bury your fangs into the wolf’s neck; the one responsible for all of your pain and torment spanning years of isolation. You feel the body seize as it drops, the last remnants of a dying brain trying to fight the inevitable nothingness that ensues, and, you only hold on the harder, the bloodlust seeping back in with every drop of life pooling into your locked jaw.

Your throat releases tiny growls of pleasure, biting a bit to make sure there wasn’t a sliver of a chance that something living was walking away from this scene. 

Ghost pauses, and in the back of his head, he knows he should stop you. Brown eyes see the animalistic sheen of enjoyment at a fresh kill, the way you pull at the flesh until chucks peel away from a gurgling wolf. Even when the thing is long dead and the rain still slaps the earth, you barely let go until you get a hold of the meat and tear with a backward jerk of your snout.

“Love,” the Hunter sheathes his knife, taking a step forward. The blood was pooling under your body. How many of those were treatable? He had to know. “Let me see what’s—”

The eyes that lock on him are not yours. 

Up to your ears, the entirety of your face was awash with the stain of life, dripping off the whiskers at your cheeks; your chin. 

Before he can utter another word, he finds himself on his back with a snapping snout right in front of his face, two dead eyes staring deeply into his own. Ghost sucks down a quick breath, hand snapping to the large wrist shoving down on his chest.

He pants out, gravel accent far more deep than it was before. 

“Easy, Spector. Easy. Eh—focus on me.” Your tongue licks at your fangs, body shaking. Ghost pushes out, “That’s it, then. It���s over, yeah? You did it; let's pack it up and head back home.” He grunts. “Recon even dogs get cold in weather like this—the bed’s waiting. Get a nice fire going.”

Ghost sees your face move closer, and his hand minutely shifts to the vial of wolfsbane on his belt. It wouldn’t kill you, but it could put you out of commission until your body shifted back into its proper form. He could carry you back—that wouldn’t be a problem at all. 

But he was worried about your injuries. Even now the droplets of blood roll off of you faster than the water can. 

Too much.

Brown eyes crease, darting a look down. 

“Fuck,” he growls, seeing the carnage and the open meat. “Sweetheart, we need to get you checked out—you need to listen to me. Can you do that?”

He can see the conflict; the internal fight. 

Your mouth moves with fast pants, claws stuttering over his gear futilely. You blink rapidly, shaking your large head in fast increments with small snarls. 

“C’mon,” Ghost says slowly, fingers looping the vial. “Keep listening. Know my voice is utter shite, but only you can tell me it.” 

Your head drops to his chest just as the wolfsbane is popped open, and, for whatever reason, Ghost pauses. He waits. 

You take a long inhale of his gear—of the leather and the gunpowder, and just before the Hunter can dump the vial over your skin, the long blackish claw on your finger loops the bottom portion of the fabric under his bone attachment. 

The man’s breath hitches as you let it rest along his nose bridge…holding it there as you drag your head upwards as if it were an impossible chore. Your mouth dribbles out gore to his cheeks, but the Hunter stares upwards into your eyes as they soften in a lupine way. 

Inexplicably, you let out a bone-rattling sigh and slump into oblivion. 

—

Come morning, you sleep under the spread of large fur blankets—clean bandages over your bare frame as the man has tended to you for hours. He mutters for you to slip your arms into a spare shirt after he finds your eyes open, not uncomfortable by your nakedness, though he wants you yourself to be at ease. 

His brown eyes are creased, and you can’t remember what you’ve done. 

You comply with small grunts and moans; more sore and cut up than you can recall ever feeling as a large tunic is slipped over your head by scarred hands. 

Gunpowder. 

“What did I—?”

“You finished the job,” he says, sparing you a glance as he shifts back with his eyes averting themselves from your visible legs. The sun seeps in through the windows. “It’s morning.”

You blink slowly, and the man eases you back down into the furs. 

“I’m tired,” your voice yawns out—weak and brittle like the hope you’d had that this plan of his would work. Eyes half-closed, they blink at the hunter with a soft kind of care that you can’t remember showing before. Whatever pain medicine he’d given you, it was working. The underlying itch was still as strong as ever, though. 

“Tired is good,” Ghost nods slowly, standing still until he crosses his arms and sets his feet. He’s in a fresh shirt and pants. There’s blood under his fingernails; traces smeared over his flesh. “Means you accomplished something.”

“Don’t think that’s entirely true,” you breathe. A pause. “...Why is your mask like that?”

It was half pulled up—showing off his lower jaw and the stubble. The scars that you already have memorized. Ghost shrugs, blinking those dead eyes of his. 

“Ah,” he grumbles. “Forgot. Here.”

He reaches up and slips the thing off in one motion. Your loose brain takes a moment to realize the entire face you’re staring into, but the second it does, the image is engraved into your mind forever. You make a noise in the back of your throat. 

“Better, Little Wolf?” 

“W—” Your lips stutter, new sutures pulling tight. “Why would you…?”

“Hungry?” Ghost asks, quickly changing the subject. “Know you like that venison that I caught.”

“No,” you breathe. “No, I’m not…I’m tired, Ghost. My head hurts.”

A hand sweeps over your forehead, staying as you sag into it with a hum and a fluttering of your eyes. 

“Bloodloss,” the Hunter murmurs. “Normal. Go back to sleep; take however long you need. I’ll be here.” 

The bond between the two of you has strengthened to that of a silver rope.

“Stay,” you plead under your breath, already slipping back into nothingness with no promise to wake up again soon. “Hold me, Ghost?”

“Simon,” he grunts to only himself, knowing that the words are lost to you. Perhaps that makes him all the more eager to share it with you when you’re better. “Stay still.”

It wasn’t like you could protest.

The broad man slips in, shifting the furs until you’re covered back up and your forehead is to his chest—keeping himself closest to the door where the runes still sit in their bloody glory. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear them humming him a tune.

No song was better to him than the one of your breath at this very moment. Alive. Moving. There were many times in the night that he thought...hm.

“Better, then?” The dry tease slips out. 

A kiss to the side of his mouth is what he gets in answer, and he doesn't say a peep more until he knows you’re back in the clutches of a dream—a good one, he knows, because he watches your expressions like a loyal guard dog would.

Ghost, Simon, rests his lips on the top of your head, and in a delicate murmur, eases, “You did good, Love.” 

There was much to do, but for now, all he had to do was hold you a little bit tighter and let his stone heart beat a little bit faster.

TAGS:

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[silveryclear]

MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

.

.

.

.

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

#fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel smut #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #smut #smut writing

[badbtssmut]

So what? | Maknae line

When you see the way your bully’s boyfriend looks at you, the perfect plan of getting revenge on your tormentor comes to mind… Having sex with their hot boyfriend.. they’d never see it coming!

Contains: reader stealing her bully’s bf, reader is lowkey crazy cause she’s having sex with them to take revenge on the bullying lol, cheating, kinda tame sex wise, hotel sex Tae, car sex Jungkook, bedroom sex Jimin, sex from behind, riding, missionary

Admin note: Only smut, use your imagination on how the bully would respond after finding out and any other plot details 🤭

Taehyung

Oh, he was good.

So fucking good.

You were at loss for words as you bounced back against his cock, your ass clapping against his thighs, his cock sliding in and out of you at a fast, steady pace, the bed creaking slightly as he thrusted into you.

The TV was blaring in the background, you had no idea what was on, too lost in pleasure as Taehyung was hitting his cock into the right spots, and it was taking every last bit of willpower in you to keep from screaming his name.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Taehyung chuckled at the sight of you desperately fucking his cock for more. You barely managed to whisper out a ‘yes’ before it was drowned into a series of high pitched moans.

His fingers dug into your waist as he brought your hips back harder against his own, and the way he was thrusting into you had you feeling like the air was being punched out of your lungs.

“Yes, yes…” You cried, nails digging into the sheets below you, as you let out a low whine, your hips bucking back against his.

There was an odd sense of satisfaction knowing you were stealing his girlfriend's man away, especially when that woman had made it her goal to make your life a living hell.

But that bitch didn’t even deserve him, and it was clear that he didn't want her. The way his hands moved to grab your tits, squeezing them in his hands, before they moved lower to rub circles around your clit, the way his hips slammed up into you, the grunts that escaped from his mouth, and how he was desperate to stretch you out with every inch of him, made it clear that he enjoyed the way you felt against him.

Taehyung’s hand snaked towards your throat, his fingers wrapping around your throat, as his pace picked up. Taehyung pulled your upperbody against his chest, your back pushed against his bare chest, and a strangled moan escaped your lips, the sensation starting to make you feel light headed.

“I’m close…” Your legs quivered as the tip of his cock repeatedly pressed against your sweet spot. Shit, how was he so great at making you feel this good?

“Yeah? You just can't get enough of this cock, huh? So fucking needy...” His voice was raspy, low, as his fingers tightened around your neck.

He was so damn good, and you felt yourself nearing your climax, with him still pounding into you from behind, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, and you came, moaning loudly, your orgasm making your body shake, and the sound of your cries were drowned out by the movie that was playing on the TV.

Your hips stuttered, and your vision became hazy as he continued to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm, and you whimpered at the sensory overload.

Taehyung released his hold around your neck, his fingers loosening, and you dropped your body forward, taking shaky breaths as you laid still for him.

Taehyung let out a string of curses, as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as his own orgasm hit him.

Jungkook

This was so dirty.

Jungkook didn’t want to waste a second longer, and neither did you.

Your skirt was pulled up and your finger hooked into your panties, pulling it to the side, as his cock slid past your wet folds, and your mouth parted as he slid into you with ease, your juices coating his length.

You could see the people walking past the window, but none of them paid any attention to you, and that was what made it even hotter.

Jungkook’s tongue hung over his bottom lip as his eyes fell shut, relishing the way your walls clung around his cock. Your bully’s boyfriend leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, his lips hovering over yours. You let out a sigh of content as he began to rock his hips back and forth, and a moan escaped your lips when he picked up the pace, fucking you at a slow pace.

With your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you thought about that bitch, enjoying the fact that you were fucking her boyfriend in public. It was so fucking dirty, but you were so turned on by the risk, and the fact that she couldn’t do anything to stop you, only made the sex that much better.

“Jungkook…” You whispered. “Kiss me.” You asked of him as your fingers brushed through his hair, and his eyes were glossy, filled with lust, as he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips pressing against yours, his kiss needy, hungry, and your tongues danced together as he continued to pump his cock in and out of you.

You tried to spread your legs as far as you could, but your right leg was blocked by the seat. There wasn’t much room, but you were fully able to spread your left leg, allowing him more access to push his cock in deeper.

You broke the kiss, your brows furrowing together, your mouth open, your breathing growing heavy.

Jungkook smirked at the sight of you coming undone, the way your body was so eager to take in his cock, he couldn’t get enough of you. Jungkook’s hands traveled to yours, your fingers intertwined as he slowed down his pace, stroking the length of his shaft in you slowly, making sure you felt every inch.

"Love that?” Jungkook whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You nodded, the knot in your stomach tightening, your body started to feel warm, as your pussy clenched around his cock, and you were getting close, and judging by the way his thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, you could tell he was nearing his climax as well.

You couldn’t believe how fucking hot this was, and you knew this wouldn't be the last time you did this. You couldn’t stop, it felt so good.

Then, out of nowhere, your body shuddered, your pussy clenched, and your walls tightened around his cock.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you let out a moan as the waves of pleasure coursed through your body, your orgasm hitting you.

And he wasn’t far behind.

His fingers tightened around yours, as he pumped his cock into you, his other hand holding onto the side of your face, his thumb running over your cheek, before his lips crashed into yours, and he came, filling you up.

Jimin

You were getting fucked in their bed.

The bed your bully shared with her boyfriend, and there was something oddly satisfying about the whole situation.

“Tired, baby?” Jimin cooed, his fingers rubbing circles onto your thighs. He was lying on his back, and you were sitting on top of him, your pussy swallowing his cock whole, and the room was filled with the sounds of your whines and the slap of skin on skin.

“Mm, yeah…” You admitted, rolling your hips. “Starting to.” Your voice was low and soft, the exhaustion starting to settle in. Your body was starting to feel tired from the relentless bouncing on his cock. His cock was filling you up so nicely, and you couldn’t get enough.

Jimin pulled himself up, and you giggled as he moved you along with him as he moved back onto the bed, resting his back against the wall.

His hands wrapped around your waist, as he started to bounce you up and down his cock, his cock sliding in and out of you, and the way he was pounding into you had your entire body moving up and down.

“Oh! Oh!” The intense pounding caught you by surprise— you didn’t even have to do anything as he bounced you up and down on his cock, and all you could do was moan and whimper, it was as if you turned into a limp ragdoll, unable to move as the pleasure overtook all of your senses.

Jimin chuckled, his eyes filled with amusement, the way your body was so responsive to his cock, the way you were letting out little whines and gasps, and the way your hands clung to his shoulders, told him that you were loving this just as much as he was.

“Cock’s making you all weak, hm? Bet that feels good doesn’t it babygirl?” He asked, his lips trailing over your neck, leaving kisses along the way.

Your eyes were closed, and your brows were furrowed, the stimulation nearly driving you insane, and the sound of his voice snapped you back into reality.

“I can’t, too big, too good…” You rambled, not even sure of what you were saying anymore. You could feel his smile against the crook of your neck, his lips moving over to the shell of your ear.

“Oh yes you can, you’re doing it right now.” He coaxed.

A low, broken moan escaped from your lips, and you couldn’t help the way your hips started to rock against his desperately— needing more of his cock.

You felt dizzy, everything felt so hot, and the way his cock was hitting you deep inside, you couldn’t take it.

You let out a cry, your eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you, Jimin groaned as he felt your muscles tighten around his cock, the sensation sending him over the edge, his cock twitching as he filled you up.

The room fell silent, save for the two of you catching your breath. You collapsed against him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, peppering your face into kisses.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bts smut fanfic #bts x female reader #jungkook x female reader #taehyung x female reader #Jimin x female reader

[snapnov4]

marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #vela is a softie #vela loves gojo #fics #trying out a new header style also #got tired of finding those stupid manga panels

[ickadori]

++ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔

[summary] your parents have no place in getou’s new world, but you do.

[cws] fem reader. death. murder -> getou is killing your monkey as parents, but it’s not described, just hinted at! yandere vibes but i didn’t lean into it heavy. mentions of getou’s past crimes (village slaughtering/killing his parents). hinted that reader used to like getou. unedited.

“You can’t be here.”

If your body hadn’t locked up in fear, you would have given yourself a pat on the back for keeping your voice so steady despite the panic curdling in your chest at the sight of Getou Suguru standing on your doorstep—your parent’s doorstep.

“I can’t visit my dear old friend? We are friends, aren’t we?” No, you had stopped being friends with him the moment you heard of what he did to his parents—no, not even then, because you couldn’t believe it at first.

“Getou Suguru killed the people of the village, as well as his parents.”

You had balked when Yaga first said those words to you, and then you had spat venom as you vehemently denounced the claim. I mean, it was Getou. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t. Someone had gotten something terribly, terribly wrong. He wasn’t that kind of person, he wasn’t evil.

There had to have been some kind of mishap — an anomaly. Perhaps his technique had failed and one of his curses had turned against him and killed the villagers, and he was powerless to stop it. Or maybe there had been some kind of colluding - it wouldn’t be the first time that the higher-ups pulled a nasty, underhanded tactic for their own hidden agendas.

But then Gojo had come to you with bloodshot eyes and wild hair, and you had known it was true, even though the both of you had desperately wished it wouldn’t.

Even then, with the confirmation that Getou had turned his blade against the people you all had spent your life training to protect, you still hadn’t turned your back on him…until you had seen the state of his childhood home.

The walls, once painted a a soft cream, had been stained a dark red, splatters of blood stretched high up to the ceilings. The pictures on the walls that contained images of a young Geto positioned in between his parents, beaming smiles on all of their faces, had been smashed beyond recognition. The recliner that you vividly remember seeing his father napping in, book laid on his chest and glasses slipping down his nose, had been flipped, the fabric slashed to shreds and the cushion spilling out. His mother’s apron, a gift that you had given her one year for her birthday, had laid in bloody tatters next to it.

You would have thought he hated them with the savage way he had killed them (didn’t he, though? Was this his way of showing you all just how serious he was?), he hadn’t even left behind a piece of bone to properly identify them, and the implication that he had let the curses he hosted consume them had made you sick to your stomach.

That’s when you began to hate Suguru Getou, but even more than that, you began to fear him.

“No, we’re not.” Whatever steel that had been in your voice before was now gone, and the waver in it was clear as your hand tightened on the doorknob. You wanted to slam it close and turn the lock, but what good would that do? He’d get in, and while you were a decent enough sorcerer, him and Gojo had been the real hotshots, you just happened to be entertaining enough for them to let you tag along. He could kill you easily, your parents even easier, and your stomach twists into painful knots as you think to your mother who’s only a few feet away and sitting on the couch, curled into your father’s side as they watch a movie together.

“That hurts my feelings,” he smiles, and instead of the fluttery feeling that it used to give you, it only makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I considered you family, y’know—I still do.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing into slits as a wave of anger washes over you, quickly replacing that all-consuming fear. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me just like you did your family? Your parents?”

“My family?” He tilts his head, a look of confusion taking over his features, and you finally notice his new look. He’s garbed in a monks robes, and his hair that had usually been kept tidy and out of the way now flows down his back. A fleeting thought of his attractiveness passes by, and you don’t entertain it. “Oh, those monkeys.” An easy smile graces his lips as he bats his hand in the air, as if shooing away something bothersome. “No, I’m not here to kill you. You actually have a place in this world, unlike…” His eyes make a motion to the side when he hears your mom’s grumbled complaint of the show, and he’s been inside your house enough to know exactly where the couch sits.

“Leave, Getou.” His eyes slide back to yours, that smile still on his face, and the fear from before comes back tenfold at his unspoken intentions. “Now.”

“You don’t have to look so scared,” he laughs lightly, and you jump when you hear your mother call out to you.

“Who’s that at the door, sweetie?” You hear the sound of her shuffling towards you, and your heart lurches up into your throat as you freeze. What do you do? What can you do? Tears well up in your eyes when you come to the realization that whatever you did would be pointless in the end. If he wanted your parents dead, then they’d be dead.

“Please, Suguru.” The floorboard creaks behind you, and his smile widens further at the desperation in your voice. Please don’t hurt them.

“Honey, who are—oh! Getou? I haven’t seen you in ages! How’re you doing, hun? I thought you were still overseas.” Your mother sidles up beside you, a pleased smile on her face as she takes him in. Getou looks to you, clearly wondering when he had gone overseas, and you think back to the lie you had told when your mother kept questioning you about where your ‘handsome little friend had gone’.

“I’ve just gotten back tonight, actually.” He smoothly lies, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robes, and your heart rate skyrockets as your brain conjures up various scenarios, scenarios in which all end the same exact way. “I missed your daughter so much that I just had to come and see her.”

Your mother swoons.

“H-He’s leaving, actually.”

“I’m not, actually.” He retorts, and your mother throws a glance your way, and you meet her gaze, hoping and praying that she’d realize the gravity of the situation by the look on your face. She’s your mother, she raised you, she knew all your moods, good and bad, surely she should know when something was seriously wrong with—

“Why don’t you come inside then and get out of this cold? You can tell us all about your stay overseas over some tea.”

Nonononono.

“Oh, how kind, I’d love to.”

-

“How are your parents doing, Geto? I haven’t heard from your mother in a while… she missed out on the market’s half off deal last Saturday.”

Dead. He killed them. He killed them and he’s going to kill you, too.

Your stomach gives another lurch, and you press shaking hands in between your thighs and squeeze them together tight. I can call Gojo, you think. He’d get here in seconds thanks to his teleportation, and in a battle of strength between him and Getou, he came out on top every time. Of course, somehow being able to sneak away to grab your phone would be a risk. But you had to try, you couldn’t just keep sitting here and prolonging their death while they chatted about an overseas trip that never happened, and parents that had long been murdered by their own son.

“…find yourself a partner yet, Getou? I’m sure you have, with your good looks and all.” Your father gives his wife a raise of his brow, but otherwise keeps his attention on the television. “Oh, it’s a pity. You know…” Your mother gives you a sly look, and you narrow your eyes at her as you give a firm shake of your head. “I always thought you two had a little spark going on.”

“Mom.”

Getou grins like the chesire cat, and you wonder if he’s always looked this devious and you were just too blinded by…whatever to notice. “I actually haven’t found anyone yet, although I do have someone in mind.”

“Oh.” She jovially laughs, her hand softly batting at your shoulder as she throws you another look, and you couldn’t keep the grimace off your face if you tried. “It wouldn’t happen to be my lovely, sweet, beautiful, hardworking, amazing cook—”

“—I’m not listening to this.” You shoot to your feet, using the excuse of this embarrassment of a conversation to your aid. It’s a good enough reason to make a swift exit —a mother trying desperately to set her daughter up with the man who’s plotting to kill her and her husband— and swift it is, your feet quickly carrying you up the stairs and down the hall.

“—oh, come on, honey! I’m just playing around!”

Your mother’s voice fades out as you push open your bedroom door and immediately lunge for your phone that’s lying on the bed. You grab it with shaking hands, fingers frantically tapping in your password, and your eyes dart between the screen and the hallway.

A silence falls over the house, and you make a choked noise as your mind jumps to the worse. He’s killed them. He finally got tired of playing nice and killed them. Oh God, he’s killed them.

“…just down the hall and to the ri—well, you’ve been here plenty times! You know the way!” A wave of relief washes over you at the sound of your mother’s voice, only for a surge of panic to rise when you realize he’s on his way and you’ve still yet to call Gojo. You’d have to settle for a text, then.

Your fingers fly across the screen as you move to the text chain you have with Gojo, and you begin to type a message. Getou is here please help, quick and to the point. Your thumb moves to send it, only for a blob of something black to suddenly engulf your hand.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening and arm flinging to the side as you try to fling whatever the hell is on you away, and go to release it in a scream, only for a hand to clamp around your mouth from behind, nails painfully digging into the fat of your cheek. There’s a numbingly cold presence at your back, and your ears twitch at the ragged breathing in your ear.

You know before you look down and see the dark, ghoulish hand that it’s a curse, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh floods your nostrils. The sound of your bedroom door lock clicking into place reaches your ears, and your eyes snap up to see Getou leaning against it, hands clasped in front of him as he looks at you through his lashes, head tilted down so his chin reaches his chest.

“Your mother doesn’t know when to shut up.” He sighs, and then he’s pushing away from the door and sheathing his hands back into his sleeves, eyes slowly taking in your room. “A second longer and you would have gotten that text off. To Satoru, I’m assuming?” The blob that had engulfed your hand plops down to the floor, and you gag again at the sticky liquid that drips from your palm and onto the carpet.

Getou splays out his palm, and then the phone is spat out and up from the curse before landing in his hand. He glances down at the screen and tsks. “I should kill them right now.”

You scream into the curse’s palm, your head frantically shaking wide to side as best it can. The nails dig in deeper, and you moan in pain, your own hands moving to attempt to free yourself, only for the thing’s other hand to snag ahold of your wrists and wrench them behind your back.

“They were supposed to be dead two hours ago, but I figured I’d let you have a few more moments with them for old times sake.” He smiles as he stoops to look at a picture on your bedside table — it’s one that you had taken the winter before Getou had turned into what he was now. You were sandwiched between him and Gojo, a grin on the white haired man’s face as he leaned his elbow on the top of your head. You were in the middle of sending your fist into his stomach (that of which had been blocked by his infinity, you faintly recall) while Getou watched the two of you with a small smile on his face.

It was the last picture that the three of you had taken together, and you had thrown it away countless times, only to later find yourself rooting through the bin as you frantically searched through it.

Your eyes fill with tears once again.

“Those were fun times, yeah?” He comes to a stop in front of you, and the curse that had been restraining you suddenly lets you go. It steps around you, and you watch, frozen, as it takes hurried steps out of your room. You gasp in a breath, your hands flying to his robes as you clench them in your fists.

“I’m begging you,” you croak, the tears freely falling down your cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Suguru. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They have no place in my world.”

“Honey…do you see that? Oh my God, do you see that?”

“Suguru!” You wail.

“But you…” His hands move to cup the sides of your face, and you sob when you hear the first scream. “You do.”

#getou x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[vampsywrites]

balance of life

synopsis: "if you don't yield, we won't hesitate to kill the tsa-hik." as quadritch and his men launch a ruthless attack on your village, your life hangs in the balance.

pairings: olo'eyktan! aged up! neteyam x tsahik! fem! reader

tags: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND DEATH, mentions of guns, blood, gunshot wounds, violence, war, neteyam going feral, ambiguous ending hehe, mother neytiri suffering (again)

☄️part 2 💫

"Mawey! My people! Mawey!" Your anguished plea echoes through the air, tainted with a tremor of unbridled fear.

Gasping, you find yourself shoved to the ground as the weight of a marine's boot presses upon your back, mercilessly crushing you. A bone-chilling sensation courses through you as his rifle hilt presses against the side of your skull, the threat it posed abundantly clear.

The air fills with haunting screams, a cacophony of agony and desperation, as your people struggle frantically to break free from their restraints.

Quadritch chuckles, moving his gaze to the forest before him. "I know you're there, Sully. You and your little soldier boys."

Jake takes in the situation, clicking his tongue as he pressed his back further against the solid trunk of a tree.

Clutching his rifle tightly, he curses under his breath. The crackle of his communication device interrupts the tense silence as Neteyam's voice comes in.

"Sir? What's wrong? We have them outnumbered and surrounded…Why aren't we initiating an attack?"

Jake hesitates for a moment, a palpable fear gripping his heart as he struggles to find the right words. With a shaky hand, he presses a button on his neck, activating his device. His voice quivering as he delivers the news, "They've got Y/N at gunpoint."

Neteyam chokes, feeling the air get knocked out his lungs, his entire body tensing, muscles coiling like a tightly wound spring. From afar, Neytiri meets his gaze, and he can see the worry etched on her face as her hands shake immensely around her bow.

"Oh, my sweet girl," she rasps, watery eyes peeking at you from behind a tree.

Neteyam's teeth grind together, his jaw clenched so tightly that it might as well break. Swiftly, he pushes through the green foliage, moving closer and closer until you were in his sights. His heart plummets, and a nauseating feeling spreads through him as he catches sight of you.

Tears mar your dirt-streaked face, mingling with the soil as a soldier forcefully presses your face deeper into the ground. His heart shatters as he catches fragments of the frantic prayers that escape your trembling lips.

In the midst of the chaos, Quadritch's voice slithers through the air, its lethargic slur accompanied by a thick, heavily accented drawl. "Let me make something abundantly clear," he enunciates, his words laced with malice, "If you don't yield, we won't hesitate to kill the Tsa-hìk."

In an instant, Neteyam's snarl tears through the air, his fangs bared in a primal display as his instincts roar, urging him to protect you at any cost. The soldiers swiftly pinpoint his location, their weapons trained upon him.

Unwavering, Neteyam prepares to draw his bow, poised to take action. However, before he can make any moves, a hand firmly seizes his shoulder, dragging him into safety just as a barrage of bullets whiz through the air. He finds himself taking cover beneath a fallen log, with Lo'ak gripping onto him tightly.

"Bro," Lo'ak seethes through clenched teeth, arms wound tight around Neteyam in a chokehold as he struggles to hold the raging male down, "Listen to me! If you make any hasty moves, you'll only end up getting yourself killed."

Neteyam's muscles strain against Lo'ak's grip, his chest heaving with a mix of anguish and fury as his eyes dart to the direction where you're held captive. Eventually, Lo'ak's words begin to sink in, and he reluctantly relents, slowly easing his struggling.

Gritting his teeth, Neteyam focuses on the situation at hand, his mind scrambled and racing. The weight of his helplessness settles upon him, but a fiery resolve ignites within his core. He locks eyes with his brother, an unspoken understanding exchanging between them.

"Lo'ak," he growls, "I need you to cover my right flank."

.

A muffled sob bubbles up your throat as the sky demon circles you, his monstrous gaze drinking in the sight of your fear-stricken figure.

"That boy's takin' his sweet time, ain't he?" The colonel chuckles, his boot nudging against your cheek, forcefully lifting your face up. A low, contemptuous whistle resonates from deep within his chest as he scrutinizes your features with an unsettling gaze. "Well, well, ain't you somethin' to behold? No wonder he went ahead and crowned you queen."

The colonel's sadistic chortle then drops abruptly, his smug expression contorting into a frown as the forest echoes with a thunderous war cry.

A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, compelling you to lift your head defiantly, your eyes locking onto a figure emerging from the shadows. "Ma Neteyam!"

Neteyam moves through swiftly, drawing his bow back and knocking an arrow dead set into a soldier's skull. The RDA, caught off guard, attempt to mount a defense. Their weapons swing and shoot haphazardly, their strikes frantic. Neteyam growls, easily avoiding their feeble attacks.

With a low hiss, he strikes, his blade digging deep into a marine's skin, leaving behind jagged, gaping wounds that mar their flesh. In a blood-soaked frenzy, his vision narrows, focusing only on his enemies, while the world around him blurs into a backdrop of carnage.

More warriors surge forward, joining the relentless attack. Arrows streak through the air, finding their targets with deadly precision, striking down the soldiers that had once surrounded you.

In almost no time, the weight pressing onto your back eases as the marine holding you hostage falls lifelessly to the ground.

Without a moment's hesitation, you propelled yourself onward, stumbling amidst the grim aftermath, desperately seeking sanctuary and cover from the chaos.

You were in such a state of blind panic that you failed to notice the piarcing gaze fixed on your back. Quadritch watched as you moved along the edge of the fields, a wry grin spreading over his lips, "Hey there, pretty bird."

In a single, fluid motion, he raises his weapon and mercilessly opens fire, his shots striking and finding their mark in your chest, sending a searing pain coursing through your body. You stagger back, a choked scream slipping from your lips as you feel your legs giving in.

"Y/N!" Neytiri's piercing shriek fills the air, her desperate cry reaching your ears as she swiftly drops down beside you, enfolding you in her protective embrace.

The crackle of gunfire intensifies, another relentless barrage of bullets tearing through the battlefield. With nimble agility, she hauls you into her arms, racing towards the nearest cover.

As her back finds respite against the rough bark of a tree, Neytiri's attention immediately turn to your injuries. Panicked, she assesses the extent of your wounds, her hands becoming stained with your blood as she applies pressure.

"My sweet girl," Neytiri's voice trembles in despair, her words saturated with raw emotion. Tears stream down her face, mingling with the dirt and blood that now stains her skin.

Sobbing, your body goes limp in her arms, sending the woman into a frenzy. Her voice rises in a haunting wail, a soul-piercing cry that reverberates through the battlefield.

"No. No. Great Mother! No!" she beseeches the divine with all her being, as if her fervent cries alone could alter the cruel course of your fate.

In that heart-wrenching moment, a figure drops down beside her, and Neytiri turns to see Neteyam, shrouded in blood as his usually steady temperment crumbled.

"Oh, Ma'Eywa, Great Mother, please no," he falls to his knees, his arms reaching out for you as he frantically takes you into his embrace. You whimper and stir, your head spinning as it falls onto his chest.

"Yawne? Hey, syulang. Hey, it's me," he cradles you closer, his lips gently pressing against your temple as you heave and shake in his embrace. "Shh, shh. I'm here now, right by your side. I'm here. I won't let you go."

"Ma'Teyam," you rasp, your eyes fluttering as the abyss of sleep beckons. "I…I am so tired."

With quivering lips and a voice choked with grief, he whispers your name, his voice a fragile plea."No, no, you have to stay awake, yawne. You have to stay with me," he presses in a hoarse whisper, his words trembling with a vulnerability you rarely see.

"Please," Neteyam's tears drip onto your pale face, fingers trembling as they brush against your blood-stained skin, gliding across your flesh with an almost desperate tenderness, as if his touch alone could heal the wounds that mar your body.

The battle rages on around you, the chaotic sounds of war blending into muffled ringing. In this moment, time stands still, and the world around you fades into shadows.

"'Teyam…" Gasping for breath, you feel a final heave escape your body before everything is consumed by a blinding light.

07/16/23 — I am writing a part 2 due to popular demand 🙈 I have a taglist ready as well! So feel free to comment if you would like to be added!

☄️part 2 💫

#💫—vampsywrites #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar neteyam #avatar #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x na'vi reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you #atwow neteyam #netyam sully #atwow #avatar the way of water

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #maturereiding

[vall-the-pen]

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Synopsis: trying to spend time with your boyfriend while keeping your relationship private… or a secret…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, low-profile/secret relationship, angst no comfort, writer!reader,

Warnings: slightly toxic if you squint, guilt-tripping, neglect, arguing, long intro (it gets good i promise), cursing, not proofread

Note: (Title from Taylor Swift’s ‘All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version)’) I tried to make this as in-character as possible while trying to convey the conflict of the plot so please let me know if there are any inaccuracies

—

The walls of Lambad’s tavern grew dim as the sun set; you, Tighnari, and Kaveh sat at a table having a little get-together. It didn’t feel complete, though, because two members of the group have yet to arrive. Cyno said he would be late due to an interrogation he has to do. And Alhaitham… he didn’t really give a notice but you all figured he was busy, being the acting grand sage and all that.

After a 30-minute rant about Kaveh’s clients, you talked about writing a new novel but you had no idea how to start it.

“Questions are overrated,” said Kaveh as he downed his drink, “I suggest you start with an at-large murder suspect being chased down by government officials—not guardes or the millelith, literal government officials.”

“You could ask Cyno for inspiration,” Tighnari suggests. You consider the idea but you figured Cyno wouldn’t have the time. “Or you could ask Alhaitham. I remember he has some experience in that field too.”

“Ah, yes,” you reply meekly. “I had forgotten.”

Hearing Alhaitham’s name felt like a stab to the heart, a curse laid upon you. You weren’t sure if it was out of love or suffering. After two years of dating, not a single soul knew about the two of you. As you asked yourself why that is, you give yourself an excuse that he simply wasn’t ready to be out. That he wanted you to make a name for yourself in case people would only remember you as the acting grand sage’s partner and not your rightful title as a writer.

When he first introduced the idea of keeping your relationship low-profile, you thought nothing of it. You knew he had no ill-intentions with the situation, so you agreed. But you thought the coast would be clear 6 months into the relationship.

During that time, the only signs of affection you got from him were when he was seldom tired from work and came home to you, longing for your warmth and drowning you with the most beautifully crafted compliments you could only dream of hearing. It was the side of him only you got to see. It was almost an honor being able to witness such greatness, all the while feeling like a goddess, worshipped and gratified by the gift of your presence.

Nowadays, you no longer felt like a deity worth praying to; that side of him became rarer than it already was.

The times when you were together—together being with the rest of your friends—you would always try to make some sort of contact with him just to feel the thrill of love your heart was aching to have, only for him to starve you of it and leave.

You felt alone, neglected, desperate, nonexistent, like a forgotten dream worth pursuing.

Everytime you thought of leaving, frames and fragments of his flattering psalms and echoing touch seemed worth the mind-numbing pain you’re going through. You’re the only one for me, he’d say. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. He would gaze upon you like you were a full moon, and you would embrace him like he was the sun.

But basking under the sun is bound to get you burned.

About an hour later, already midnight, Cyno had already arrived but Alhaitham was nowhere to be seen. Kaveh has had too many drinks and is now drunk to the core. And with the hopes of seeing Alhaitham’s face for once, you drank your fair share too. Your cheeks glowed with a drunken flush, a fire setting aflame to your frozen heart. Something he could never do.

“Looks like the acting grand sage will not be joining us,” Cyno pointed out.

A guffaw escaped from your throat, “What is there to even expect, Alhaitham has been busy since that damned Azar did… something.”

You can’t think clearly. The laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob, and to be honest, you were on the verge of crying. You were just tired. You needed the warmth only the love of your life could provide.

Then out of the blue, the voice you longed for an eternity echoed through the tavern, tired and monotonous. “Apologies for my utmost tardiness, there were some issues at the akademiya I needed to handle.”

Alhaitham.

Your stomach hurt all of the sudden. You watched as he walked to the seat opposite of you. Shouldn’t you be happy now? You were just about to break down because he wasn’t here. Now that he is, you should be content and watch your boyfriend from afar. But all you could feel was betrayal, the blank agony of despair, the cruel sting of rejection.

He failed to notice the tears that glossed your eyes, assuming it was the reflection of the light. Your gaze pierced his soul with desperation, begging for him to console you and just… do whatever. You were asking for even a squeak, a sliver of concern, the bare minimum.

“Tighnari, how is Collei doing with her studies?” Like he had a shield for your painful daggers, he didn’t even glance at your direction. Disappointment filled you like a glass of wine. You should be used to this by now—the overwhelming weight when he avoided your leg, another desperate cry you needed him to hear.

Tighnari shared Collei’s progress after seeing that you were okay. As much as you were proud of her, you prayed to every archon not to let her be in your situation. Your heart shreds for the other person, it screams his name like a priest in worship, and all that for naught.

The group laughed at something, you weren’t listening all that much. You just felt… empty.

Kaveh’s voice called your name, “Isn’t that right, Y/N?” The group turns to you, who was dazed and distracted. The architect immediately noticed this. He patted your cold hand, “Y/N?”

“Hm? Ah, yes. Yeah, sure.”

Alhaitham laughed, “You seem distracted tonight, Y/N. If you’re looking to write for the akademiya, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated.”

Somehow you got defensive. Was it Alhaitham’s obliviousness? The way he made it seem like you were aloof? His laugh that mocked you in your desolate state? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, it made you snap.

“Ah, Alhaitham, akademiya this, akademiya that—there are more things to life than work, you know.” Your voice covered up your attacks as simple friendly banter. You’ve gotten good at sucking up your anxieties and steadying your voice all thanks to him. Now you can cover yourself up real nice when you commit a crime. You have a knife in mind, and you’re ready to kill. “Like, I don’t know, a partner, per say.”

Stab.

The grand sage scoffed, “You know very well I don’t have time for such trivial things.” His muscles flex as he crossed his arms. So these were the words he chose to say to you, after centuries of broken promises and empty plates.

“Maybe you would if you actually made the time for one.”

Stab.

“You are aware that you just ignored what I just said, right? Are you even listening?”

Stab.

“Oh, I’ve been listening. For the past two years, I’ve been listening my butt out for you.” It was scarring how unbothered Alhaitham was; you wanted to scream at him. The tightening of your chest, the prickling of tears behind your eyes, the weight of despair settling in your stomach, could he see what you’re going through? “Now, all I ask is a little bit of sympathy because I have been suffering all alone, waking up to an empty bed, not even a-“

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Alhaitham interrupted you, somewhat panicked. You didn’t realize how loud you were being, up from your seat with your palm stinging from how hard it hit the table. “You know, if you’re having boy problems, you don’t have to take it out on me. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

Right then and there, your world began crashing down. “Alhaitham,” Cyno muttered disapprovingly, making Alhaitham realize how rude he sounded. The tavern’s customers hushed to listen to your table. You hadn’t realized there were so many people.

Without even looking around, you could feel their eyes on you, whispers riddled with scandal.

“They’re being so loud.”

“Has she no shame?”

“In the presence of Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, too.”

“Look, the general mahamatra is there; she really needs to watch herself.”

The embarrassment, the anger; it all fuelled you with a feeling you could not explain. No metaphor could capture the entirety of the wickedness of a man. How come he gets to sit there with everyone’s respect while you grovel in your puddle of tears? How come he’s having the time of his life while you’re burning in hell?

“You’re right,” you began, eyes dulled and void of life—of love, “You’re not. Okay, that’s all the liquor I can handle, guys. I think I’ll be heading home now.”

“Y/N,” Kaveh called, standing from his seat to escort you on your way out.

“I can walk myself, Kaveh.” You grabbed your things and took a sip of water. “Acting Grand Sage, humblest apologies.” Once again, you looked at him with utmost disappointment before leaving the tavern and heading home.

—

I am adrift in a sea of longing, drowning in the silence of his absence, clutching to memories like driftwood in a storm-tossed ocean. Yet still, I cling to the fading embers of our love, fearing the darkness that awaits should I let them fade to ash.

Hours after you returned home, sleep had not been your friend. As much as it would be typical, you cried until your eyes stung. It was now 4am, the time Alhaitham usually wakes up. Lost in your never-ending, ever-agonizing thoughts, you stared blankly at the dining room, wondering if he will finally recognize his mistakes, how much pain you’ve been in.

The knob of your front door twisted open, and surprise, surprise, it was Alhaitham who entered your apartment. “What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” He was not one to raise his voice like that, or even curse.

“Of all the nights I was available, this was when and how you choose to talk to me?” Your voice was the opposite—calm, sad, empty.

“Do you realize you nearly told everyone about our relationship?” He spotted a notebook on your crossed lap and grabbed it. “What’s that, ‘I am adrift in a sea of..’ what? Y/N, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“You specialized in languages, Alhaitham, you’ll figure it out.”

The man scoffed, “I’m not a mind reader, Y/N, if you could stop being immature-“

“You’re calling me immature? Okay, what about you keeping our two-year relationship a fucking secret?” The both of you continued raising your voices at each other. If people in the tavern hadn’t already spread rumors, this will surely start them. “Just tell me you’re ashamed of me, Alhaitham!” Then the man fell silent. Serves him right. “Tell me you don’t love me, so you can have a concrete reason to leave!”

“You know being the acting grand sage was never an easy task. The Fatui and other rebelling organizations have me as their number one target, and they are more than willing to hurt anyone to get their way! I was keeping us a secret to protect you! Seeing you getting hurt would mean the end of the world.”

“Getting hurt?” You scoff, “If you never wanted me to get hurt, you’re doing a terrible fucking job. I had to sit through multiple tables with empty seats because you were never home. Do you know how embarrassing that is for myself? I had to tolerate every ounce of contact you avoided because ‘someone might see us.’ In case you couldn’t get how much pain I’m in, let me sum it up for you—IT HURTS MORE THAN DEATH, ALHAITHAM!”

As the last echoes of your argument faded into the silence of the empty apartment, it felt as though the very foundations of your world was crumbling around them. Each word spoken was like a dagger to the heart, tearing apart the fragile bonds of love that had once held you together.

Every word you said stung his chest, the last part beating him to a pulp. It was too late for regret to cross his mind. “I really did love you, Alhaitham, more than anything.”

Those words… he hadn’t heard them in what felt like eternity. All he wanted to do was melt into your arms and apologize endlessly for all his wrongdoings, the times he barely came home, the mornings he could’ve spent with you. He’s been feeling this way for what feels like centuries. If he opened his arms to you, would you still embrace him? Would you still forgive him?

“But I can’t keep giving myself excuses to tolerate all of this.”

He looked at you, your eyes that were once so full of light now dimming of any source. The desperation, the longing you both share. There was so much sadness in your eyes. Have you always looked at him that way? Alhaitham was always quick on his feet—he had to find a way to convince you to stay!

“Y/N,” he began, “We can’t just give up on everything we’ve been through. All the dates, anniversaries, everything we took our time to make—it will all be a waste if we give up now.”

“I think you gave up on us the first time you dropped my hand when I reached for you.”

You were slowly slipping from his grasp, from his future. “I’m willing to give you all the time you need. Every meal, every date, every word you desire, I will make time for all of it. I promise you.”

“How can I know this will be another empty promise? How will I know you won’t do this again? You were never the type to offer everything so helplessly, Alhaitham.”

“Y/N, can’t you see-“

“Where were you during my sleepless nights? Where were you when I had prepared the perfect dinner for us? Where were you when I stood in the middle of the park, waiting for a certain someone to show up?

You were never there, Alhaitham. But I forgave you for all of that. I gave you a million last chances.”

A million last chances… you were thinking of leaving him beforehand? When he couldn’t seem to move his mouth, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Please, leave.”

It was too late for him now. He was long gone from saving you, from saving this relationship. There was nothing left to say, or do.

In the dim light of dawn, you both stood alone, tears a silent testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that littered the floor like shards of glass. And as you watched your former lover walk away, a part of you knew that the wounds inflicted that night would never fully heal, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of regret and the haunting echo of what could have been.

(Part 2 is out now!)

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham angst #4ggravate #angst #alhaitham x reader #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #alhaitham fanfic

[sawbiter]

gunpowder - katsuki bakugo

cw : angst, hurt/comfort, "villainous" quirks, mental illness, quirk accidents, minor injuries, guilt.

--

“shit-” katsuki can hear you groan and walk to your shared bathroom. he's always been a light sleeper, but especially when he's near you. he claims its a protective instinct; you say its ptsd.

“baby? fuck..” he rubs his eyes to cure the groggy filter of sleep, “what's wrong?”

“nothing! i just- i just got my period!” you speak, quickly and while laughing. a clear sign of panicked lies.

katsuki immediately stands up, he can tell somethings off. as he does so, he looks to your side of the bed and his stomach lurches at the sight.

the comforter has been burned off where his left hand would have lied. actually, everything right there is burned off. down to the mattress, which is black and seared. he's only now noticed the scent of burning and smoke.

he curses loudly, rushing to the bathroom door, which is locked.

“kats, it's fine! i'm fine, don't worry!” you say, desperate to keep him from seeing the damage.

“let me in.” his voice is urgent with panic, “fucking- let me in!” he bangs on the door, terrified that you're dying on the other side; that his villainous quirk has hurt another.

you unlock the door, and he rushes in.

you're seated on the floor. hand-shaped burn marks are on your arm and upper thigh, he sighs with relief at the fact that they most likely won't scar.

he rushes to your side, examining the hand prints which match up with his hands exactly.

you attempt to reassure him, “kats, it was an accident. you had no control, its not your fault. you were sleeping and you had a nightmare. i tried to wake you- it wasn't smart of me. it's not your fault.” you rush out, tears forming at the sigh of his face, which looks absolutely grief-stricken.

“i fucking hurt you,“ katsuki starts, “and you're comforting me.” he looks shocked. he hurt you; the only one he's every really loved.

“kats, it wasn't your fault. it was an accident.”

“fuck- don't tell me that! i fucking burned you!” he yells, before quieting, “fuck.. i'm so sorry. i knew i should've been more careful sleeping with you.”

you glare at him weakly, tears in your eyes, “katsuki bakugou! it is not your fault. we've been sleeping together for years, this is the first incident. please, don't shut me out, don't shut down, over this.”

“i fucking burned you! you should want me away from you!” he yells, lashing out as if it was the most obvious thing. “i don't deserve you, i never did!”

“that's not true!” you yell back, “your quirk saves people everyday! one accident doesn't make you a villain!”

tears have fallen from his eyes by now, a rare sight.

you cup his face with your uninjured arm, “please. don't shut me out.”

he holds your hand in his, keeping it against his cheek.

“obviously i fucking won't. i love you. i'm just.. worried.”

you smile, “you don't need to be worried. you could never hurt me.”

--

i promise the smut is next my lovess

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo angst

[undercoverpena]

wet n' wild

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: “This what you wanted?” His breath fans across your cheek, your neck—teeth all but gliding over your hammering pulse. “You just wanted me to touch you, querida?” wordcount: 1.8k warnings: smut. p in v. frankie doing a bit of dirty talking. reader wears a white two piece/bikini. mutual appreciation of bodies - although slight mention of shyness about 'your' body. an: all thanks to this anon, i hope you appreciate how you made me rot.

As soon as it had begun—you’d hoped it would end like this.

The game of who could break the other started as soon as he'd pushed you into Santiago's pool.

The rules dissolved, disappearing amongst the soft waves made from your legs wrapping around his middle when you finally got him in the water, "jus' wanna float with you" you coo, wrapping it in naïveté as the pool floats moved past you and people shout over the music and sizzling food.

He believed you for all of a few moments. That is until you tightened your thighs, rocking yourself over him, smirking, fingers twirling a strand of his hair around and around. Just like you do at home.

Stop, his eyes said. Make me, you challenged silently, it having become clear that there would be no defined winner or loser.

Just a symphony of soft brushes and lingering glances, ones that make your face burn and your thighs press together as hours tick on by and the teasing increases. Each time he wraps an arm around your waist, you feel you're losing the edge, becoming powerless, desperation creeping up as you dig your nails into your palm, the sun drying your skin and two-piece doing nothing to quell the fire that swirls in your insides.

It's why you'd been cautious to slip from the party, from the laughter and loud yells. Sliding past bodies you don't know, moving between ones you do, as you head up to the house.

To freshen up, compose yourself.

But then you’d felt him follow.

A thrum darting through you, turning the fire into an inferno, it grows, showing no signs of simmering as your flip-flops clap against tiles. Even less so when you hear the backdoor slide open and then shut. Recognising that gait, that walk.

Your pulse thumps in your ear as he follows you, doing so down Santiago’s hallway. A part of you waiting. All on edge. anticipation quickening the rhythm of your heart within its cage of bone as you turn your head, graceful, ear tilting akin to a curious animal, capturing the quiet sound of an opening door just as fingers wrap around your wrist, gently tugging you back.

Game, set, match.

You do your best to hide your smirk—smother it in wide eyes and a blank expression. Innocence, all halo shining and white two-piece gleaming. You know Frankie sees through it—has been aware of each brush of your ass against the strings of his swim shorts.

It's evident in the way he looks at you, and pins you to him, all broad and spectacular as he moves you, back meeting the edge of the dresser as it digs into exposed skin. And, suddenly your throat is dry, unable to tear your eyes away from him if you tried. Because he’s crowding, all but looming—palm resting on your hip, the other cupping your cheek.

It’s brief, the seconds he provides. A flick of his gaze between both eyes, a confirmation requested and given with a smirk of your own mouth.

Then, he's on you.

Hot, wet mouth sliding over yours, tongue pressing past your lower lip, cursing somewhere at the back of his throat that he breathes into your own. Because fuck. A thought that grows, builds, but you do your best to bite back as your fingers grasp at bare skin, palms sliding over the flexing muscles on his shoulders and along his back before you grab a handful of his curls, droplets dripping down your wrist.

You don't fight the moan when he flattens his body to yours. Frankie flush to you, soft stomach against yours—no space between the two of you, nowhere for air to be except around the two of you—as his fingers splayed out on your hip. Keeping you where he wants you; where he needs you.

Here, here, here.

You lose yourself against his mouth. Drown in it; pleasingly overwhelmed by him, and desperate for more. Insatiable, in fact—as you become aware of his fingers at the crease of your thighs, parting them, ungluing them, fingers sliding over your fabric-covered seam.

The tip of his nose slides against your cheek, breath searing against your skin, leaving a trail of fire to your ear before he whispers, “Don’t think your bikini is wet from the pool, is it?”

It's instinct, barely muffled, a murmur of his name escaping—but better that than the moan you have to bite down on your tongue to suppress. More so as his fingers, all expert, competent, slide back and forth over your covered pussy. The thinnest layer being a barrier, keeping him from sliding into your heat and making you see stars.

“This what you wanted?” His breath fans across your cheek, your neck—teeth all but gliding over your hammering pulse. “You just wanted me to touch you, querida?”

You can't think, not as he teases the edge of your bikini.

Your name on his lips is elongated. Meaningful.

And, there's an answer forming somewhere, but it won't make it to your tongue. It thought, but barely given—never mind said—but he reads you. Pushing the fabric to the side, fingers parting you, retrieving a moan that does more than kiss the air.

You think you nod. You must do as sounds dull and thoughts silence as he sinks two fingers into you.

"Eyes on me, bonita."

And they pin to him just like he demands. Seeing only slowly drying curls and deep brown eyes. Admiring, mouth parting around silently pleas as he focuses on you, nothing else mattering, as he studies you, moves his fingers and thumb to get the sounds from you he knows he can get you to play.

There, you think. But he already knows. Frankie's attentive like that, swirling his thumb, circling and circling as your own hand slides between the two of you, palming him, feeling every thick inch of him as your teeth nip at your lower lip.

And he gleams as though reading your mind like he’s watching a movie in your eyes. Hand stopping, making your face scrunch before he's retracting it, fabric snapping back into place.

You barely have a chance to ask, never mind speak, before he’s shifting you, moving you with far too much ease until your back is bouncing on a mattress that isn’t your own—staring up at him as he tilts his head.

Fuck, he looks good.

Impossibly good. A thought you have constantly, almost continuously. Because it's him, all yours, forever 'mine'.

It's why shyness is gone, eroded. Hands rising, undoing the top of your swimwear until it parts open at your cleavage, exposing your breasts to him, nipples pebbling in the cool, drier air before you grasp them—take one in each hand and roll, squeeze, parting your thighs further as you mentally wish for his hands to replace yours—

“Or,” he says suddenly, grittier, all low and sounding closer to a grunt.

Jaw ticking to the side, eyes narrowing, as he takes one of your knees in hand, forcing it up, further into your chest.

"Is this what you wanted?”

Your heart hammers in your ears, thunders. It practically dulls all else—mind emptying of a party, of anyone walking in and catching the two of you. Least of all when he slides the fabric to the side, an order—direct and stern—to hold it for him, as you do so, all in awe, watching as he frees himself, swimshorts pooling somewhere at his ankles before he runs his palm up and down as he drinks you in.

And you’ve never felt more seen, more beautiful. Usually, a hand would have slid over your stomach, a thought crossing through your mind about the thickness of your thighs or the slithers of discolour that stretch across your hips.

But there’s none.

Just the sight of him, all handsome and pretty, stroking himself as he admires you undone and waiting.

“I ever told you how good you look?"

His eyes flick to yours at the sound of your voice.

"You do," you continue. "So pretty with your hand wrapped around your cock for me."

Sliding a finger over your soaked folds, breath hitching, you watch his eyes snap to it.

"Fuck Frankie," you whine. "Especially when you’re like this—when you’re doing this?”

It's silky, the way you let each word fall. Let it glide through the air to his ears as you earn a brow twitch.

“I want you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, your free hand reaches for him, the mattress dipping as he kneels.

"Want you to fuck me so good we have to buy Santi new spare bed sheets, and not just wash them."

Leaning over, he smirks, pink sliding up his neck as his palm flattens to the mattress, all close to your head. "He never uses this room anyway," he retorts, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, forcing your teeth to bite down on the back of your hand. "So, someone should."

Nodding, you murmur something, words, letters at the very leas.

“Fuck, who knew my girl was so dirty?”

Heat flushes through you, spreads—licks across muscles and bone as you stare down at the place the two of you could be conjoined—

“Frankie, please—“ the last letter barely forming as he pushes in, pussy taking him, inch by fucking inch, “—fuck, baby.”

His forehead finds yours, pushing it back as the back of your head meets the mattress as he slides himself into the hilt. All thick, suddenly nothing but full—mouth parted at it, before you begin to move, urging, pleading, before he’s moving.

Palm finding your mouth, you try to smother the moans and whines as he rolls his hips, gripping your hips, bruising, thrusting and kissing that part inside of you that makes his name fall in tandem from your mouth.

Distantly, you can hear him. Mumbling, babbling, lost in it: “I know, s’good for me. Feel perfect—always do. Look so good, querida—wanna fill you up. Touch yourself, come for me, baby. Please come for me.”

Fingers moving, sliding from holding the fabric for him to drawing circles, chin lifting, back arching into him as fire slides up your spine, the knot tightening in your stomach, muscles both tightening and relaxing. And it’s dizzying, vision blurring as you hear him talking you through it, murmurs of “that’s it’s baby, come on baby” as your fingers move on their own and your other hand clamps and digs into your own cheek, "can't believe you're letting me fuck you here, so perfect, mine, all—"

Hissing, moaning into his palm—teeth almost biting, piercing your skin as a tightness forms before you're clamping down. Before you snap, crack.

And you come.

And it's all but consuming, mind-bending and sound melting as he fucks you through it. Hips snapping against yours, skin slapping, as you hear him hissing, grunting, his name painted in spit and hisses against your palm as your legs shake.

You yank him down by the back of his neck, fingers full of curls, mouth slanting over his as you swallow his breaths, all hot and desperate—

“Come for me, Frankie.”

And he does. Hard.

And fuck, you know you're gonna have to replace more than the bedsheets.

an: hides and runs cause for me this was so filthy and I'm unwell from my own words

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #francisco morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender tv #atla tv #spoilers #natla #i loved it i hated it i mostly sat through it #i would like a season 2 though #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #iroh #uncle iroh #azula #ozai

[myysaints]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 — x. thorpe

XAVIER THORPE x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — xavier’s into you. like into into you. but unfortunately, you aren’t quite on the same page.

contains — miscommunication, slight slight angst, fluff ending, pining from both ends... just dumb idiots unknowingly in love with each other <3

notes — i am so obsessed with this man and this gif you don't understand. also, requests are open!

You’re tired.

It’s been an exhausting past few weeks; Between helping Wednesday with her investigations, worrying about being a victim of untimely death yourself, and on top of all that, keeping up with your academics, you’ve hardly had the time to even so much as think about Rave’N.

“Wait, what do you mean you don’t have a date?!”

You shrug at Enid, who gapes at you in askance. “I just don’t. Really, Enid, it’s not that big of a deal.”

It’s a Saturday, and you, Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are seated on a grassy patch - A brief respite from the flurry of school.

“I mean, it’s only one of the most important social events of like, the century!” Enid exclaims.

From beside you, Xavier snorts. “C’mon, Enid, it’s not that big of a deal.”

He turns to you now, eyebrows raised. “Though i am surprised that no one’s asked you out yet.”

Unbeknownst to you, satisfaction bubbles in the long haired boy’s heart. It's not that he’s happy nobody has asked you to the dance - It’s just that it means he still can.

But your nonchalant reply sends his heart racing. “I never said I didn’t get asked out. I just said no.”

Shit. Xavier frowns, avoiding your gaze. So people have asked you out. Of course, what was he thinking? You’re only the most beautiful girl in Nevermore. How could he even delude himself into thinking you didn’t have boys falling at your feet?

Of course, you’d turn him down too. Why wouldn’t you? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re gorgeous… and him? Well, he’s just there. By your side.

Your best friend.

What would happen if you said no to him, like all those other guys? There’s no way your friendship could recover from that, no, not at all.

The only thing worse than not being your boyfriend was not being your friend at all.

“-I mean, I don’t… I don’t even know what to say!”

Xavier blinks, snapping out of his daze. He sees Enid shaking her head, at an utter loss for words as she says, “You turned down… all those guys? Why?!”

All you do is shrug, and Xavier swears you glance his way before replying, “I guess… I guess I’m just waiting for the right guy to ask.”

You don’t see Xavier much after that.

If you’re being honest, you're a little disappointed. It’s only five days to Rave’N, and you still don’t have a date. Not that it matters much; After all, you’re perfectly content going on your own. It’s just…

Well, you were hoping a certain long haired artist would ask you to accompany him. But you’re quickly realising that that wish was going to stay that way - Just a wish.

A hopeless, desperate wish.

You curse under your breath as you leave yet another class without speaking to Xavier. It’s almost as if he’s been intentionally avoiding you, though for what reason, you haven’t the faintest clue.

Did you do something wrong? Was it something you said? Something you wore?

Come to think of it, he’s been distant ever since Saturday. Saturday. What happened on Saturday? God, all you can remember is that picnic with Enid and Wednesday, talking about the Rave’N, and… and…

God, what is it?!

You have half a mind to walk over to his dorm and demand for him to open up, but what good would that do? Xavier’s made it abundantly clear that he has no interest in conversing with you, so why should you be the one putting in all the effort when he-

“Y/N!”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

You turn, forcing an unimpressed look on your face despite the fact that your heart is beating a mile per minute.

To your surprise, Xavier looks nervous. Perhaps the most nervous you’ve ever see him - You don’t even think he was this anxious at the Poe Cup. He’s holding something behind his back, you note. Something pink. And green.

You eye him warily. “Xavier, what is it?”

He walks up to you, hands still clasped firmly behind him. “Look, I… Fuck, this is harder than I thought it was gonna be-”

You feel a sinking pit of dread in your stomach. Your head spins, and your voice cracks as you stutter, “Xavier, are you… Are you friendship breaking up with me right now?”

His eyes widen, almost comically so, and he’s frantically shaking his head. “What?! No, no, of course not!”

He tugs his hand through his hair haphazardly, one hand letting go of whatever he’s holding. You must be dreaming, because you think you see a pink petal float to the ground.

…Flowers?

You don’t mean for your voice to be so wobbly, but it is, as you say, “Xavier, I don’t… I don’t understand. You ignore me for days - No texts, no calls, nothing. You wouldn’t even look at me in the hallways! And now all of a sudden, you’re here… with flowers?”

He blinks, glancing down to the small pile of petals that have fallen off, and groans.

“Fuck,” he mutters lowly. “God, this is not how it was supposed to go-”

“hHw was what supposed to go?” you ask, perplexed.

“God, I knew this wasn’t a good idea, I knew it, I-”

“Xavier!” you exclaim, your heart lurching in confusion and exasperation and everything in between. “What is going on?!”

“I like you!”

And everything stops.

“I like you, Y/N, I like you so much it… it hurts, okay? And I wanted to ask you to the Rave’N with me, that’s what all these… The flowers, this whole thing was about. I just couldn’t stand being around you and knowing that you don’t have a date to the Rave’N ‘cause it - shit - it drove me crazy. But it was stupid, I get it, it was stupid of me to do this, and I understand if you wanna pretend like this never happened, but I just need you to know that I love y-!”

Your lips are on him before he can even finish his sentence. It feels like everything’s on fire; His hands are on your hips, and then they're moving around your waist, and you’re being lifted off your tiptoes, and he’s kissing you back, and it’s-

Xavier is breathing hard when you break away, his face flushed.

You smile, and he bites his lip, looking at you bashfully. “So... Is that a yes?”

You laugh, nodding as you thread your fingers in his. You blush when he raises your linked hands to press a kiss your knuckles.

“Yes, Xavier,” you mumble out, feeling him smile in between kisses. “A thousand times, yes.”

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier wednesday x reader #percy hynes white #percy hynes white x reader #wednesday fanfic #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier wednesday #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x you #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🍰] miscellaneous