#of softness and wonder and getting ripped to shreds for it

[cuubism]

A little headcannon that has been stewing in my head for a while and has absolutely no proof from the cannon

Death has wings right? What if Dream used to have wings too but when his kingdom got invaded for the first time(that story he tells in the Overture) the invaders cut his wings off. That's the part of the reason why he crafted his helm and why's he so dependent on it. They took his wings so he took their skull and a spine, an eye for an eye kind of situation. Also, that's when Dream first started employing a raven. He still has scars on his shoulder blades that follow him to any form he takes. He's ashamed of them, sees them as a sign of weakness, a reminder of his failure and his flaws and goes to great lengths to cover them up. That's about it, but I'd love to hear what you think of it^-^

(Plus: Hob gently running his hands over the scars, showing Dream his own ones and reassuring him that there's nothing broken, or wrong with him)

NO BUT THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE IT. i love suffering

i feel like a permanent injury like that would have to be done to dream's core essence, such as it is, rather than his 'physical form' - i don't know if dream's physical form in the waking world or other realms can even be hurt like that. it would have to be like, something that deeply wounds the dreaming, or the concept of dreaming, or just like the deepest core of dream as an 'entity' rather than it being a physical wound. (this is leading me on a mental tangent about injuries to large groups of dreamers also injuring dream, like, extinction events and such, but that's for another time).

you managed to rope me into it, congrats XD

content warning for blood, gore, violence, Things Done That Can't Be Undone, etc.

--

There is not much, in his long life and memory, that Dream is able to forget. Thoughts do not drift into irrelevancy, into the past, the way they do for humans. He is able to hold much, all at once, in the cavern of his mind, eons of all that has happened hovering close enough to touch. It is a heavy weight more often than it is an aid.

But he forgets, sometimes, with Hob.

With Hob, the rare points of their contact stand out as singularly bright stars in the nebula of Dream's existence. All else within him fades. When Hob takes his hand Dream feels clear as a desert sky, when Hob kisses him for the first time, Dream is floating free in a great salt lake, hanging weightless.

He forgets.

It's only after, bodies pressed together with pleasing heat and sweat-tackiness, Hob tracing patterns over his back, that Dream begins to remember again.

"Dream..." Hob's fingers stutter over his shoulder blades. His voice catches with the hesitance he has often displayed with Dream since their reunion. I think you're here for friendship. Dream feels the echoes.

He kisses Hob's throat, tastes the salt tang of his skin, hides his face away there. The weight of embodiment returning. "Ask your question," he says. "I swear not to part from you now."

"Is this from...?" Hob's fingertips dance up the raised arcs of scar tissue over his back. Pain sparkles in the wake of his touch like the sharpness of a hand-drawn tattoo in the permanence of its inking. As humans imagine it. Dream is not truly physical and could not bear such a mark. Except for this.

"No," he tells Hob. Blame for many of Dream's recent ordeals can be laid at Roderick Burgess's feet, but not this one. "Much older than that."

"Oh." Hob keeps tracing the scar over Dream's right shoulder blade. The touch aches deep in Dream's being where those wounds originate, but he does not tell Hob to stop. Even like this, Hob's hands bring him back, and back, and keep him here.

Hob is waiting, leaving an opening for him to elaborate. Dream is not yet sure whether he wishes to.

"It is not a pretty story," he says.

Hob strokes through his hair. Dream keeps his head tucked under his chin and so feels each word as it's spoken. "Neither of us is a pretty story, darling. Tell it if you want to."

Dream has not spoken of this in many years. There are those in the Dreaming who have served him for millennia whom he has not told. He has taken lovers, had them see the scars during their lovemaking, and still not relayed the story.

"When I was young," he begins, "and still coming into my power, the Dreaming was invaded. My borders were not as strong, then. My realm, less populated. Ancient beings, older than I was at the time, hungered for my realm. Sought its power for their own."

"Older than dreams?" Hob asks.

"In their universe, there were no dreams," Dream tells him. "Perhaps it is what drew them to me."

"Alright. Wow." Hob sounds thoughtful. He rubs Dream's back, between his shoulder blades where it doesn't hurt. "Go on, love."

"I fought them. But the collective unconscious of this universe was young and undeveloped, as was I; I had not mastered all elements of my domain. I fought, but inelegantly, and struggled to counter dreamless beings when all my power was in the unconscious. They were wholly anchored in the present; I, in the space between seconds; we were poorly suited as combatants."

"What did you do?" Hob asks, quiet. He can sense, Dream thinks, the direction this is going, that Dream would not be so hesitant to tell the story of scars born of victory.

"I did not know," Dream admits, equally quiet, still shamed by it, his own failure, and its branching repercussions, "what to do. And the Eldest God, he who had first rent open the walls of my realm, pounced on my uncertainty, captured me, held me--"

The memory, never forgotten, always just within reach should he turn towards it, rises again -- the silk-smooth black sand on the shores of the Dreaming, crushed into his cheek; the warm waters lapping at his mouth, nose, eyes, drowning him; the impossible weight on his spine of the impossible dreamless creature holding him down, arms wrenched behind his back, the feral animal growl that had escaped him, the equally animal panic beating under his ribcage, the fragile spun dreamstuff of him held in the sharptoothed maw of cold reality, his wings--

"Dream?"

Dream comes back to himself. Comes back to Hob. The overwarm flannel sheets. The soft press of Hob's body. He's tapping something on Hob's arm, and hadn't realized he was doing it. It's the rhythm of an old song from before the time of men, the electrical beats passed along root chains from tree to tree to tree, all the way across the great forests that now exist only in scarce patches on the earth.

Dream shifts ever closer to Hob's body, slips a knee between Hob's thighs to tangle them, bare skin to bare skin, limb to limb, root to root.

"I had wings, then," he says.

--his wings, flapping frantically in the face of the thing that pinned him, feathers catching and tearing on jagged armor, held to the ground the way a creature of flight was never meant to be--

"Oh," breathes Hob. He touches the long scar over Dream's shoulder blade again and pauses there. The pain catches the story to Dream again like a hook and holds it there as he continues bleeding it dry.

"The Eldest God dug his claws into me and tore the wings from my body." Dream's voice doesn't shake but he does not manage more than a whisper. "I am not a physical creature, Hob, understand this, I cannot be so easily harmed, it was not a physical form that was damaged, rather, the Old Gods came from stone and earth and it was stone they harnessed as their claws, ancient stone to carve into my being and tear out my wings from the essence of me, root and stem, flesh and bone, air and feather and starlight."

All of this comes out in a continuous rush, and Hob kisses the side of his head, says, "Breathe."

He can still feel, if he but thinks back, the tearing of the claws. A cold so bright it felt like burning. His face ground into the sand to muffle his scream, the howling whiteout of pain overtaking all other noise, the crack of his shoulder joint as it was broken. Star stuff spilling out over the sand - Dream hadn't even known he could bleed until then. Hands that should never have touched in the first place releasing him. Collapsing, disarmed, to the ground. Every limb on fire, the ones that were left.

"Dream."

He lost himself, and found himself again some time later curled in the shallows of the Dreaming sea, seeking shelter from the cold in the warm waters. Face half submerged, breathing as much salt water as air. Blood still spooling around him like leftover paint whirling in a water glass.

"Dream."

Even in those warm waters, he was shivering. Dream doesn't think he's ever been quite warm since; that cold latched itself in him somewhere and never left.

Hob's voice, now, against his ear. He's curled himself around Dream while Dream wasn't paying attention, Dream's back to the warm protection of Hob's chest. "You don't have to finish if you don't want to."

Dream will not leave a story unfinished, not even one such as this. "When I had regained my strength enough to fight back," he continues, "I was... not in control. I knew only survival. If the Old Gods had wished me to understand their world, they succeeded. I abandoned my powers and fought with my hands and my claws and my teeth, and I tore the Eldest God's skull and spine from his body. Both of us would be maimed, I thought; if he would have my dreams then I would have for my own the backbone upon which he held his earth. I listened to him scream. I watched each rib pry up from his chest and snap, my hands slick with his blood, his with mine, and felt nothing but the raw satiation of a wolf setting upon meat. I have told you, Hob." He takes his first breath in a while and feels it rattle, hollow, around his ribcage. "It is not a pretty story."

"No." Hob's hand finds Dream's against his middle, tangles their fingers, holds him. His breath is shaky in Dream's hair, words more so. "No, darling, it's not. I'm sorry."

They rewrote the story of the Dreaming, Dream recalls saying to Destiny, after. Before he had come to know, truly, what Destiny was. Kneeling in his garden, blood still draping his raw back like a shroud, Dream had sought meaning, answers, reason. Foolish, in retrospect, to even consider asking for succor.

Destiny had said that the Dreaming had seeped too far into the Waking world. That what had happened was a necessary rebalancing.

Had Dream not been forbidden from physical violence against his siblings, he would have bitten off one of Destiny's hands with his own sharp teeth and asked if he felt more balanced then.

"Now you know what vicious creature you lie with, Hob Gadling," Dream says. The words are heavy in his throat, but he can't find it in himself to slip from Hob's hold. Now you know the jagged turn at the beginning of my story.

He wonders, sometimes, what the Dreaming might have been like had it continued on the other branch of Destiny's forking path. What he might have been like. There is so much space between a winged creature and a once-winged creature. The entire sky.

"I know." Hob bites at the back of Dream's neck, light but sharp, then kisses that same spot. The nip of pain is unexpectedly soothing. Hob too knows what it is to bite and claw and writhe and maul. “I know. I’ve known your darkness, honey. Don’t you worry.”

“They fled me,” Dream tells him. “The Old Gods. After. I did not understand why at the time.” He had stood, bloodied, shaking, over their Eldest one, bones grasped in his hands, and watched them disappear. These beings that could still have shredded the Dreaming and swallowed it, but chose to run. “Now, I imagine it is like the way men will flee from an animal that is so much smaller than them but has gone rabid. The wrongness. The danger of irreparable madness. They saw me ruined and wished not to catch it, saw the Dreaming—”

This wound has dulled over time and become but a throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a reminder of something missing. But it never disappears.

“The Dreaming, changed, from what they had wanted.”

Dream’s back has never been quite right, since. His anatomy is meant for two sets of joints, not one. But it is only a fitting marker of the permanent damage done that day.

“Changed?” says Hob, so gentle now, lips brushing his skin.

“There was once more,” Dream says. “The collective unconscious was once more… collective.”

“Wait. D’you mean…?”

“Yes. There was more interconnection between minds when I was young. There were not human minds in the sense that you would know them, not yet. But there was communication, and knowing, back then.”

Vestiges of it still linger. In the vast underground networks of the trees, the paired spins of distant atoms. The matched steps of lovers finding perfect synchronicity in a dance. But—

“That was sundered with my wings.”

The cold that had washed over Dream when that realization hit had been worse than the pain of losing the wings in the first place. How he had failed the dreamers under his care. Let things fracture and tear and separate when they were meant to be together.

Hob sighs against the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

“I am sorry,” Dream says. “It should never have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Hob agrees, and it’s sweet pain sliding between Dream’s ribs, for Hob to press his fingertips to the rawness of him and say, yes, failure, failure, I see it now.

But Hob kisses the point of his shoulder, the ever-tense muscles of his upper back, the hard curve of his scapula and the calcified line of another almost-joint, lost to time. His lips find the uneven scar tissue and press there, which is its own sweet pain, but sliding towards sweet, a sharp bite to kissed lips.

“It shouldn’t,” Hob whispers, and the words vibrate to the core of him. Hob does not see his failure, will not; Dream had forgotten Hob’s charity towards him, how he will see the blood on Dream’s hands and wipe it away instead of asking how it got there. Dream’s failures have stolen something from him he does not even know to miss, and still.

Now Dream does wish for Hob’s hands slipping under his ribs. Hob would find the aching wretched thing within him that had been loosed that day and hold it in his palms, wash the blood from it with careful strokes. Would that Hob could have held him then, submerged him deep in the waters of the Dreaming sea until the dark and the warmth and the strong hold of his arms had soothed the flayed and violated creature that Dream had become back to sanity. Before the gnashing rageful part of him had turned predator and fully grown its claws.

Perhaps there is succor to be found, after all. How quickly Hob Gadling has become it.

“I wish that I could have…” Hob sighs. It sounds mournful, longing. “I don’t even know. Helped you. Held you. Futile, I know.”

“I would not have you feel badly. It is long past and cannot be undone,” Dream says, as if Hob’s words don’t mean more to him than he could possibly know.

“Nothing can, sweetheart,” Hob says. His hair brushes Dream’s shoulders. It is terribly soft now, in this day and age. Dream suspects it was not always so. Human lives have rarely been soft on their bodies. He appreciates the softness of Hob’s body now, and how it cradles him. Dream himself has long been unchangeably hard-edged. “But I would still help you.”

“Sweetheart,” Dream repeats. Dream might have been sweet, once, at the end of a different story. “You would call me this, at the end of this tale?”

Hob turns him so they are facing each other once more. A tear has gathered in the corner of his eye, and slips down to wet his pillowcase as Dream watches. Tears for Dream. Warm salt water. He smiles at Dream anyway.

“You’re my sweetheart. My dear one. You think I would think anything about this other than sadness for you?”

“Dear one,” Dream echoes. “Always good to me, my Hob.”

“‘Course.” Hob squeezes his hand. Hands that too have known violence, but soft for Dream, always. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Only what you have already done,” Dream says. “Be a cavern where I can shelter from the cold.”

Hob kisses him, hot and lingering, and pulls the blankets up over their heads.

#thanks for sending this anon i'm extremely obsessed with it now #thinking about young dream still new to the world building the dreaming for the first time and learning his powers and still full #of softness and wonder and getting ripped to shreds for it #and now i am Screaming #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #my writing #ask #anonymous #tw gore #tw blood #fuck i did this while i'm supposed to be working so i should really get back to that now. adios

[thefallofruins]

First time dad! Sukuna

“This is…mine?”

He looks down at the little wrapped bundle in his arms, a look of confusion etched onto his face. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at the little thing, who looks back at him with equal interest.

Except her eyes are filled with innocence. And they share a resemblance with his. Such a beautiful contrast, you think.

“She is.” You chuckle softly, correcting him, still incredibly tired from the pains of birthing his child. But the sight of the father holding his daughter for this first time was so amusing that you couldn’t help it. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, still fixated on the small…tiny little thing he’s holding. He’s so uncharacteristically gentle with it…like one mistake and she’ll shatter. He raises a finger to her plump cheek, caressing her soft skin.

“Like you,” he finally responds, as the little girl’s tiny fingers immediately latch onto his, wrapping around them. A soft smile forms on his face as he looks at her, then at you. The wonderful woman who graced his cursed existence with such blessings.

He wants to say something, but a strange…slimy feeling of wetness on his finger prevents him from doing so. He looks at the little one in his arms, slurping on his fingers.

“Oh, so you’re a brat too?” He pulls his finger away, and hell breaks loose. He is even more confused now.

“She’s hungry, Kuna,” you pout, extending your arms from the bed, “Bring her here.”

He shuffles closer to you, his hand working surprisingly gently as he hands the little girl to you, and she immediately latches onto your breast as you loosen the robe to feed her.

“Has my appetite.” He grumbles, causing you to chuckle again. He stays for a while, internally swearing at the sight of you and your little girl— that if anything ever even tries to touch either of you, he will rip the world to shreds, and god knows what ends he’ll get to to keep you safe.

“Brat,” He mumbles, one of his hands resting on your head, making you look up to him as he ruffles your hair slightly. “Thank you.”

#dad! sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #Sukuna fluff #ruins posts #tw pregnancy #tw breastfeeding #tw childbirth

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Blood-Stained Wool Spun At Midnight (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Werewolf!Ghost x F!Tailor!Reader (Set in Van Helsing Era/Aesthetic)

WORDCOUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, angst, mutilation, violence, death, being hunted, reference to unwanted attention from a man, 1890s period standards for men/women, religious references, etc.

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

“Miriam?” Your voice carries over the open street, one of the two small steps leading into your nonexistent front yard firm under your feet. Across the way and one house to the left, your older neighbor, Miriam, readies her horse for you—kept behind the paddock door of her attached single-stall stable. Men and women shuffle past along the cobblestone, clopping hooves and tipping soft caps. Giggles and gloved fingers. 

The city is lively today, and you’ll be glad to be out of it for the better part of the morning.

You brush down the front of your shirtwaist, patting at the pleating along the front before folding your shawl across your shoulders; hiking it farther into your high-collared garment. 

“Miriam!” You call again, shuffling down that last step and trying to shove yourself farther into the crowd. Keeping your black skirt close to you, you sigh long and pray the pouch at your side will stay away from the hands of pickpockets—a tailor gets off well enough, but every penny was worth it. One setback could ruin you.

Which was the reason you were now making your way into the country on your neighbor's horse. 

Miriam glances up from where she fiddles with the bridle strap, her head mixed in with the masses. You smile, raising a hand far above the sea as men sneer down at you, hearing the tinkling bells of her laughter. 

You make it to her and Whistlejacket the Thoroughbred as you huff, rubbing your gloved hands together before the clicking sound of your heeled shoes can catch up to your ears.

“By the Lord, it’s chilly, Love,” Miriam utters, patting the horse as you softly rub the animal's neck. Black ears twitch to you, chestnut eyes soft and pliable. You smile before replying with a chuckle. 

“And the chill won’t stop Mrs. Ida from having my hide for that wool-lined cycling jacket, unfortunately.” 

“Ah,” Miriam scoffs, “Mrs. Ida. I’d tell that one to mind her manners to the fine lady who makes her husband's waistcoats.” 

“She always asks for them a size small,” you hum, rummaging through your satchel to make sure you have the money you need for the wool that’ll go inside the order. “One with more of a brain would say she was trying to say something.” 

Your eyes glimmer as you send your neighbor a glance. Miriam slides you a cheesy look.

“‘More of a brain’, the girl says,” she mutters as you laugh brightly. “A wonder you’ve not found a husband yet.”

You ignore the comment, sliding down Whistlejacket’s side to slip your foot into the stirrup, huffing at the beast’s size before shimmying up with all the grace of a young hooligan. Panting on the saddle, both legs over one side on account of your skirt, you take a breath and happen to glance at the dark house that borders Miriams.

“Miriam?” The words escape you in a moment of curiosity. “Pray tell…is Mr. Riley back from his trip to London yet?”

Mr. Riley—Simon as you know him to be called by only a whispered passing. It was apparent with your little…interest in him. It wasn’t a carnal interest, no, God forbid, it was a hesitant need to understand him. 

You’d never sown nor mended so many clothes than to his own collection. 

Frock coats, waistcoats, shirts, ties, and trousers all—ripped to shreds before being placed on your counter like it didn’t matter a smidge. And those deep brown eyes of his…endless; seemingly incapable of human emotion above the tight layer of silk that the man wears up to his nose. There was something strange going on with Mr. Riley, and you were determined to figure it out, but he was also quite alluring to you in a simpler sense. 

You liked how he spoke to you.

“London?” Miriam asks, putting a hand to her wrinkling chin. “My, was that where he was off to—how do you hear about these things, Girl?”

You clear your throat, putting back on your smile. “Oh, never mind that. I was just curious, see.”

Whistlejacket’s feet shuffle from under you, the tall beast’s strength seen through his broad neck and well-bred attitude. Miriam’s husband had been a carriage driver, and when he died, the widow had taken Whistlejacket into her care as the only living family she had. 

You rub at his neck again, and the horse nods his head up and down, knickering. 

“You’ll take care of the old fellow, then?” The question is layered, anyone going through the forest to the farmer’s fields knows that the shadows grow long. 

Knows what can hunt you. 

You glance at the woman, nodding firmly. “And bring you back your share for taking the lovely creature out.” 

With that you’re out, taking the reins in your hands before easing Whistlejacket into a walk and entering the flow of traffic; waving a hand behind you in goodbye. Miriam calls on the smoggy wind.

“D-don’t stray from the path, Love!” 

A path wouldn’t save you from the Ghost.

—

It is the year 1897, and beasts live here. 

They roam in the dark corners and the forgotten alleys of every city and street—silent, unseen. Waiting to strike with white fangs or sharp claws; a snarl or a whisper. Vampires, demons, specters lost to time…Werewolves. 

Nowhere was safe, and so, the world had to adapt. 

As Whistlejacket’s hooves meet the slowly depleting cobblestone of the outer city, the clink of the metal bit dances in your ears; your face roves back and forth through the fields, those far in between houses. In your bag, you have more than just money. 

Holy water, a crucifix, and, of course, a knife made of pure silver. When in doubt, silver was always the safest bet.

But the forest…the forest was unpredictable. 

You breathe slowly as it comes into view hours later, those creaking branches and the breeze that speaks to you—in your head, you hear the plea. Or the threat. 

Turn back. 

The both of you stop only a foot from the treeline. Whistlejacket knickers, feet shuffling. Your hand finds his hide, rubbing soothing circles as your lips thin. 

“Easy,” you whisper, but nothing could be farther from easy. Your fingers brush through the horse's hair as he moves his head, hooves taking a step back. “Easy.”

The blackness of this forest is unnatural—the others in the city and town go around it; a four-day trip. You didn’t have four days. Like a moth to a dark altar flame, the oblivion takes you in and the forest expands in your view the longer you stare into it, down that path of overgrown grass and gravel. Rocks and twigs. 

With one hand you grab at your shawl and pull it closer to your neck, holding the reins lightly as your fingers twitch around them with the other. 

“Easy,” you say for a third time, quickly looking away from the path and clearing your throat. 

Clicking your tongue, your boots tap Whistlejacket’s side and after a puff from his large nostrils, the animal ambles forward, far slower than he had before but still moving nonetheless. Your hesitance bleeds into him, and you know the horse's senses are far better than your own.

But you were stubborn—you’d come too far to go back now, and if you wanted to be home by supper you had to buy the wool you needed and leave as quickly as possible. Going through this forest would take up most of that time. 

The trees enshroud you, and in their brimstone grip, they reach with gnarled fingers like a leering phantom. You lean to the side to avoid one branch, feeling it pull at your shaul slightly; trying to grab at you, it seemed. This place would devour you whole, but you were less scared of the general aura and more of the fabled monster that patrols this place. 

The Ghost.

Whistlejacket is unsure of this, despite the journeys you’d both been on. It always worried you how such a large carriage animal could still get so nervous after years of desensitization—the horse didn’t flinch at the yells from the city; or the howl of mutts at midnight. But this brimstone forest made him shiver under you like a child in the cold.

As you speak to him lowly, your hand reaches into your satchel and grasps that tiny silver blade, attaching it to your cinched belt as your skirt sways in a dead breeze. A chilled puff of air falls from your lips, though there is no coldness in these standing sentinels—it is a dead-like atmosphere. Every pound of your heart can be heard. 

“You know, old fellow,” Whistlejacket’s ear twitches back to you, but his eyes do not leave the path. You spare a tense chuckle. “I’ve half the sense to tell Mrs. Ida to shove that wool lining right up her—”

Something sharp echoes far off into the trees and you pull on the reins with a tight breath. 

Whistlejacket squeals, trying to bolt, but you keep a strong hand on him—eyes flashing from one dark void to the next in between the trees as his hooves dance. Your head bobs with every jerk of his legs, yet you barely notice it. 

A twig? You ask, heart hammering. No, no that sounded like an entire tree getting snapped in half.

Eyes glancing over your shoulder, you look back down the road and find the tiny speck of light that signifies the exit of this place, the last glimmer of home. With a heavy look around, you close your eyes and shake your head. 

Mrs. Ida was…something else…but she was one of your best clients for all her abhorrent behaviors—money was tight as of currently, and the woman’s husband was incredibly rich due to his practice as a physician. This wool was needed not only for the jacket but for your shop upkeep and the price of fabrics, needles, and threads. This wool was an investment you couldn’t miss.

“Whistlejacket,” you click your tongue but the animal snorts and shakes his head, backing up. “Whistlejacket!” Your voice carries despite not even being above a hard whisper. 

“I promise you, when we get to the farm I’ll let you eat all of the sugar cubes you want—my treat.” Your hand finds the space between his ears and below his skull, the soft black mane twisting in your fingers. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Your eyes are half-narrowed. 

That wasn’t a twig.

Monster Hunting was a booming profession—and many took to it out of glory or need for coin. Those hunters had been in and out of this forest for short generations, trying futilely to catch what was rumored to lurk here before they got ripped to shreds like their fathers had. 

The Ghost. 

Some say he stands over nine feet tall; and has fangs that are bigger than a man’s palm—claws like butcher knives. Blackened and dead is his brain, cruel and maniacal. 

The Werewolf’s heart is chained to hell, and his soul to Satan. He is cursed ever to walk like a beast and feast on human flesh while in his wolf-skin and out of it. 

A ghost.

The Ghost.

You close your eyes tightly, trying not to imagine the stench of blood or the injuries you’d seen those hunters bore—being dragged back into the city screaming and wailing in pain. Arms and legs ripped clean off, never to be found. Most never came back at all.

“Please, Whistlejacket,” you plead, bumping your forehead into his neck. Whispering into his skin, you take a deep breath. “We need to go on. Quickly. We can’t stop here.”

Stopping was making a bigger target on your back—letting your scent linger in the stale air. 

With one last whinny, his fast flinching feet, the horse pushes forward as you click your tongue again; faster and more uneasy. But you didn’t slow him, no, if Whistlejacket was going to speed up, you were completely fine with that.

Moving again, you loose a sigh from your lips. 

There were many dark stories living here, some too heavy to tell aloud, even—one specifically was the tale that you’d overheard in your shop while helping Mr. Riley fix a large hole in his waistcoat. 

Riding along the path, you guide your steed down a small indent, blinking at the images your mind conjures up. 

Mr. Riley had been far quieter that day than in the recent past, and you thought perhaps he was beginning to warm to you after a few long months of silence and clipped business talk. That day, though, you had your doubts. 

Mr. Moore and Mr. Hill were coming in to inquire about the state of their overalls, working-class both and eager to have their second pair of articles fixed. Mr. Riley had been there first, and thus, you’d been talking to him for the better part of ten minutes.

“Mr. Riley,” you’d explained, holding his black silk waistcoat in your hands while opening and closing your lips. “I…I really must begin by asking how exactly you manage to do this to your clothes. In good faith, I half-believe you have a habit of getting into bar fights with a knife-wielding fiend in your free time.”

Brown eyes had stared at you above that cloth of his, soft cap on his head protecting blond tendrils of hair. Scars peel at his skin, old and pale. 

You’d never been afraid of him, despite his large frame and his intimidating muscle—the gruff aggressiveness of his tone. It was strange, but you had a feeling he would never do anything nefarious…perhaps his morals shone through far better than his conversational abilities.

“Can you fix it or not?” He grunts in question, hands in his pockets. Eyelids blink at you slowly, long lashes caressing flesh. 

You roll your eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I can.”

In that intermission of silence, you’d heard the words from the men behind Mr. Riley—missing the spark of amusement that had coated those brown orbs as they watched you. 

“Did you ‘ere, then, Mr. Hill?” A sharp, hurried whisper. Your eyes blink at the two as the man ahead of you slightly shifts his shoulders, tilting his head to the side to stare behind him. “There’s been killin' in the East district—they’re callin’ the ‘unters in, see.”

“Hunters?” Mr. Moore huffs. “They’ll not make a smidge of a difference now. I’ve heard about it—they say the Ghost slunk in from the Forest and ripped the man to pieces.”

“Aye! They found pieces of flesh hangin’ off the shop signs. Like he’d been put through a machine, I hear. Half a jaw was left in the street, an eye leading into the trees, and…and…”

“Gentleman,” you call, oblivious to how Mr. Riley is as tense as a rope, eyes small and tight on the two men. He barely breathes. 

The two look to you as if being caught by their mothers. You frown. “Time and place.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.”

“M’sorry, Miss, lost myself.” You smile through a sigh and turn back to Mr. Riley. 

“Well, now then, I…” He quickly walks to the door, boots heavy and knee-length frock coat swishing as he pushes open the barrier and slips through. You gape, confused for a moment. By the time you think about opening your mouth again, you can already see him entering his own house across the street and pulling the door closed firmly.

The curtains close. Black night leaking out around the illumination of the oiled street lamps. It was the news in the morning that called to the true horror that you’d overheard in your shop. 

Mr. Lambert was never your favorite patron, in fact, you’d call him a creep at best—insistent on marriage to you and a hazard, considering that your home was connected to your shop. He knew exactly where you lived and when to use your time in his less-than-pure favor. 

Mr. Riley had been a natural deterrent in recent months, but what really struck you was that the brown-eyed man had managed to show up exactly when you needed him regarding Mr. Lambert. The small silver bell above your door rang his arrival whenever the other was trying to lean over your counter, smiling sweetly at you as if you were a prize to him and his leering eyes. 

Mr. Lambert would instantly straighten, tense, and dart away with a metaphorical tail between his legs while shooting nasty glances. 

But you’d never imagined him to be dead.

You’d never imagined his body to be hung from the trees that border the forest like a trophy—the Ghost had dragged him out of his home, the door busted off its hinges, and the inside all but demolished by fighting bodies. Neighbors said they’d heard howls on the wind; yowling and wet snarls like a rabid dog. 

Mr. Lambert was mutilated. Unrecognizable mass of flesh and hair, bone seen through shredded skin and tongue lulling from a ripped-off jaw. One eye and a branch through his toro to hold him up.

Now halfway through the forest, in the densest bit of trees, you can’t help but imagine becoming just like him.

You hadn’t spoken besides to reassure Whistlejacket, yet the fact was that you couldn't even reassure yourself—like a child, you cling to the animal below you and try to ignore the murmurs. Your shawl had been pulled up and over your head, creating a sound barrier for you that truly did nothing to help. 

Looking slightly to the side at a large and moss-layered boulder beside the path, you shiver not from the cold. 

“Maybe I should have just waited the four days…” Your whisper leaked out, and it seemed a sin to break the silence that had been layered here. 

A shadow filters past the side of your eyes, a silent motion atop the boulder that you think perhaps is a crow. You pull at your shawl to show your face a bit more, turning your head upward. 

Atop the stone is not a bird—it is not an animal of natural birth or of sound mind. It is a beast of ancient rites and white-fanged dreams; left here among the living in a sick game of predator and prey. 

You don’t register that it’s really there, the Ghost, until its blackened form stands to its full height, great shaggy fur under the remains of clothes scraps, and muzzle curled to show off fangs and pink gums. There are his ears, atop that head; they point to the sky before flinching back to staple themselves to its elongated skull. Long hands that scrape the stone below it near the claws that dig into the rock until they make long scratches. 

Like a demon made flesh, this Werewolf was the epitome of nightmares. So strangely human and monster at the same time. 

Eyes like a burial mound. 

You stare in numb horror, gloved hands steadily tightening over the leather reigns until your knuckles pop. Whistlejacket does not yet know the beast is here, glaring into your soul and branding it; taking a large step closer to the edge of the boulder as the moss flakes under his egregious large paw-pads. 

A low rumble is all it takes, those pupils small and beady, from within the breast of the Ghost’s expansive chest. Whistlejacket’s nose sniffs the air, his head turning and already tense. 

The horse screams like a dying banshee, spine curling and legs kicking out. He bucks as the Werewolf snarls through a loud howl, all four limbs connected to the stone and roaring. Your back slams into the ground as you’re tossed off Whistlejacket, your mouth releasing a scream to join the rest of the noises that echo off the foliage. 

Crashing into the path, your neighbor's horse disappears with one last high-pitched squeal into the darkness as you feel your bones rattle at the connection to your spine. Tumbling down a slight hill, you quickly get your skirts in order before scrambling to your feet with pain brimming in your scraped skin. Looking back to the boulder, your pounding heart rampages. 

But the Ghost isn’t even there. 

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” you whisper, backing up multiple steps. “Oh, Lord.” 

The blade is missing from your belt—you don’t know where you’ve dropped it in the fall and that might just be the death of you. Mr. Lambert’s story infects you; the other hunters.

You frantically look at that mighty stone, up and down, while skittering backward. 

Where did it go? 

Panting, you only stop when you hit the firm frame behind you, a large tree trunk of fur, and a hard chest that you sink into. You freeze—eyes wide and unblinking. A thin squeak exits your mouth, and a reverberating call purrs over your vertebra, making you shiver with fear. 

Minutes draw before you gather the courage to delicately turn your head upward.

Those eyes meet yours again, small and coated over with rage; pale fangs so close to your forehead they’re like ivory with dripping saliva. One drop hits your flesh, but you fail to register it. 

Those eyes. 

Up close you’re completely stolen by them, sucked in and whisked away as a bride, this mixture of dark wood and earth. Brown so rich you’d never seen something like it…or…or had you?

Incredibly, in between your panic, something sparks you as being familiar in a way you can’t quite place in this state. 

The Ghost is gargantuanly large, so much so that he bends his spine to lean over your entire body and growl down at you, the sound starting in his gut and expanding up to his throat. The fur around his neck is so thick it’s like the mane of an exotic cat, ironically, as tufts of hair are on the tips of his ears. 

You stare and try to memorize the look in his eyes as clawed hands come up at your sides, horrifyingly human with long fingers; five-pointed except for the fact that the skin is blacked like hide. Sweating, you shake before your lips start talking for you, as they usually do. 

“I do hope I’m not intruding, Kind Ghost.”

The beast halts his slow entrapment, right ear twitching forward at your voice. He doesn’t blink, and his mouth does not close. 

“I…I only wished for safe passage.” Internally you wonder if you’d lost your mind—if it had broken in this moment of hysterics. Your voice is far more steady than it should be. “I must get to the other side of the forest, you see. Urgently. I have business that must be settled. Though,” you add quickly, tone cracking for a moment. “Though, I knew not how to contact you to ask.”

The Werewolf’s heart can be felt on your back, a deep thum of pulsing power and raw death. It watches, its mouth twitching a smidge more closed and lungs rising. Its feral heat leaks through your clothes into your flesh. 

A furred hand connects with your hip and you squawk as you’re shoved to the ground very suddenly, thrown to the side onto the grass with only your palms to catch you. You’re flipped over, those same claws slamming beside your head before you can push back up and try to run. But there could be no running. Like a moth to flame the Ghost would hunt you down until there was nothing left of you but bloodied carnage. 

You throw up your hands in front of your face, the great form splayed over you and a sniffing nose digging into your stomach. There is a low whine of a hungry maw as the shaggy head moves up and around. Like a human, the Werewolf’s hand grabs at your wrist, pinning it down to the ground as the other digs into the earth, dragging it up like a farmer’s plough. 

 “H-hey!” You shout, pushing with your free fingers at the muzzle—in sound mind, you’d never even think to do such a thing. “Get off of me!” 

You should have been terrified, and maybe you were, but you’d gone past the point of knowing it. This beast was leering over you like Mr. Lambert, but far more dangerous and…and…

“Are you smelling me?!” Your angry voice makes his dark eyes snap to yours, and in an instant, you’re staring up his muzzle, body splayed out below him. 

You shutter.

“Eh…Just don't…rip anything, would you?” You were talking to a Werewolf as if he was capable of higher understanding in this form—as if still human. Voice small, you thin your lips and feel sweat run your eyebrow ridge, heart pitter-pattering. 

Why were you still alive?

The snout resumes, running along your shoulder and finally stopping at your neck with a pass of the Ghost’s tongue over his lips. You close your eyes tight.

This was it, you think. Of course, you’d be the one to lose the only blade that could let you actually damage this monster, the silver glinting in your mind as you curse yourself violently. You feel the puff of his vile breath on your neck, his claws peeling at your shirt collar slowly back. 

Your breath hitches, fingers winding through the fur below your grip, but the confusion breeds with the horror. The sensation of his soft fur wasn’t unpleasant—in fact, it was perhaps the finest material you’d ever handled. While it wasn’t the time for this, your occupation was impossible to ignore…this texture was far better than any silk.

But he’s stopped moving entirely. Lids fluttering, you open your eyes slowly, afraid but addled at the inaction. 

Brown side-eyes you closely, fangs dripping next to the meat of your neck and parted to show a lulling tongue. The beast purrs as you stare, looming with enough mass to block the sun and moving that muzzle closer to your pulse. In an act of pure desperation and womanly instinct at the sight, you snap out your leg and, not hesitating a moment longer as the animal’s tongue meets your flesh, you send your shoe straight in between the monster's legs.

A sharp yowl makes your ears ring, but you slip out from under the Ghost as it banks back, snarling and yapping before it rights itself with a shake and rabid hunger. The look from before is gone—but you’re already through the trees by the time the enraged hunting cry makes your neck hairs rise. 

Guttural, savage, and devoid of humanity. 

On the path you find your blade, and you snatch it as you gather your skirt in the opposite hand and dash away. To where, you have to tell yourself, you do not know. But it’s human nature to run, to sprint until your throat tastes like blood and your stomach rolls with bile—all of that can be tolerated if for the simple promise of survival. 

So run you did. 

Faster and harder than you ever had in your life, you sprinted into the brimstone trees and the dead thorns, not looking over your shoulder at the noises of snarls and breaking tree trunks; claws through the earth, and the primal howl of a hunt. Your throat is raw and scraping, clothes thoroughly ruined as you crash through a thorn bush while cutting up your arms and legs in tiny streaks of crimson. 

Droplets make a path behind you, a path, and a scent to tell you by. But with how the Ghost had been smelling you too deeply, you doubted it would be long before he tracked you down to finish the job.

You lose a shoe in the mad dash, lungs heaving and whimpering from the sudden absence of sounds entirely—as if the beast had disappeared into thin air. Still, you don’t brave a glace behind as you take turns and bends in the earth at random, running deeper and deeper into the foliage. 

Bloodied and running out of strength as you hop a small stream, yelping when you slip and bash your wrist into the ground, you had never wished for Whistlejacket more. All you could hope was that the horse was making his way out the other side of this hellscape. 

You never should have come through here.

Tears stain your eyes, blurring the edges as you manage to run into a small clearing, head whipping back and forth from one area to another. Every turn was the same—every tree similar! 

But the house was different. 

No more than a hut, really, it was stone and had a thatched roof, nestled in a field of black flowers and wisps of dead grass. The door was opened, but the ground was torn up by claw marks—spanning up the sides and near a broken widow.

You rush to it without a blink, and just as you make it to the threshold, you grab the thick oak door with your torn gloves. Turning, you find him across the open glade. 

Air is shoved from your lungs as you wheeze, the black shadow in the tree line. Brown eyes burn past flesh and bone—beady. Twitching lips and high-pointed ankles with rising fur. It was like a statue. Not even moving; barely breathing as it…watches. 

What had happened to the snarling—the howling hunt?

Had…had he been behind you the entire time?

You whip the door closed and frantically slam the bolt in place, the blade brought to your side and shaking in your tight hold as you back up quickly. 

“Oh, Miriam, damn you, you’re always right.” You gasp, back hitting the edge of a table. “Curse me for never listening.” 

Your neighbor had expressed worries the day before your departure, but you’d been stubborn as always—wool, you said you needed. Just enough for a coat. It was nothing; nothing that should have led to this. 

You feel like passing out, bile rising into your throat before you swallow it back down and breathe in quick heaves. 

But the door didn’t cave in, and no great monster barreled through to eat you up and pin you into a tree branch. The house settled, the minutes dragged on…

…and nothing happened. 

Your heart slowly goes back to a hesitant normal, like a mouse after being chased by a hawk; a lamb by a wolf. Standing up straighter with blood saturating your clothes, the uneven strides of your shoe-less foot mean little to you as your form slinks to the broken window. You don’t feel the pain in your cuts—the sweat or dirt—before you bend down and hiss at the stretching flesh.

Knees knocking on the floor, you peek above the sill slowly, eyes wide open and tiny pupils quivering. 

“Why didn’t it come into the glade?” You ask yourself, seeing the large shadow in the far-off coverage of the dropping leaves. A steadily dying sun. You weren’t making it back home tonight. “Why is it staying away—it knows I’m in here.”

Surely it wouldn’t let you live? 

Your brows tighten, swearing there are eyes looking back at you through the kaleidoscope reflections of the glass. You duck down, vibrating as your vision runs across the strange hut.

One room, it only held a table, a tiny desk, a trunk, and a bed. A fireplace with no logs. Dust lived in the corners, and candles that were unlit were melted in plates and cups all around your view—score of them as if the dark was something the owner feared vehemently. 

This would be your sanctuary for the night. 

“Do Werewolves not come upon hallow ground?” Your voice bounces off the stone. “Was this a priest's hut?”

If there was a church nearby in this damned place, that would truly be the best scenario. Churches held hunters more often than not. 

Standing, you walk the space, feet aching as the adrenaline wears off and it all sets in. You place your blade into your belt, but your fingers never leave the pommel. First, you go to the desk, picking through letters and thin papers. 

Blinking, you pass them over in favor of the journal, the one next to the hastily thrown down quill—the spilled ink. 

Your hand touches the leather and flips it open, ears peeled for any noise from outside. The drawings come into focus quite quickly. 

Diagrams and intense study fill your brain, images of the Ghost sketched so lifelike that you flinch back and physically recoil until you gather your bearings. 

“I don’t suppose this would be of any help,” you utter with a frown. “Will it tell me how to make silver bullets? Give me a revolver?” 

Shaking your head, you close the journal before the faded name on the cover register—you walk away slowly before you halt. 

"Simon Riley."

Your heart tightens and those brown orbs come back to you. It’s like your mind expands in a millisecond.

Simon Riley and his frequent trips out of the city. Simon Riley and his shredded clothes exactly like the ones that the beast wears. Simon Riley and his silent, black, soul. His secrets.

“No,” you try to convince yourself, chuckling as your panic spikes. Every interaction whizzes past with surety. “No, that’s not possible. I couldn't have been that inept when he was right in front of me.” 

Anger pierces you, and all sense leaves. You know it to be true, know it to be the reality even if you'd just put the pieces together yourself. This was too perfect that God himself must have come down and laid it out for you to find.

In a moment of raw rage, you stomp to the door—hand snapping to the bolt and reaming it back. The outside chill makes you growl, but you exit the hut nonetheless. It was like a spit in your face.

“Simon Riley!” You scream into the air, hand in fists. “Get your arse out here and explain to me why I’ve been fixing your fucking clothes while you’ve been galivanting around the bloody forest!” 

Call you insane, but seeing your work constantly ruined made you more mad than being chased like an animal, especially if this animal had no intention of killing you. He'd had the option, but he hadn't.

That only serves to make you even more angry.

Your finger points into the tree line. “I spend my God-given time to make them perfect for you, and this is how you repay me?” A rustling from the bush to your left. You snarl and turn to find the upright form as it blinks at you, muzzle closed and ears forward. It steps out into the grass with one paw before you brandish your blade at it.

The Werewolf freezes, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’m going to rip that damn fur from your body and teach you what it’s like to have your practice insulted, you twat.” Those eyes don’t stray, just like they never had in your shop. 

Yet there was a more primal tint to them—more wild, unrestrained. Aggressive. 

The monster stalks forward with slow and heavy steps, walking up to you until it can once more stare you down. You take down a shaky breath and press your knife into his abdomen as fur encompasses your field of view. 

Your confidence wavers.

“D-don’t you know it’s rude to chase down a lady in her travel shoes?” 

A snarl grinds itself out in cut intervals as if he were trying to speak to you, snapping fangs and tilting head. You have somewhat of an idea of what it means.

“I’m not apologizing for kicking you in the balls, Mr. Riley. You deserved it.” You lower the knife from his abdomen. 

A nose pushes itself into your neck again before you shove him off with a curse. He doesn’t even flinch before he tries once more.

“Would you quit it?!” You yell, scoffing. “What in the devil is wrong with you?” 

It was like he was trying to rub his head all over you—as if nothing but a dog scenting a bone.

Isn’t he? Your lips thinned. It wasn’t foreign to think he wasn’t in the right state like this. Of course, he wasn’t. Mr. Riley would never act like this, even with how often you saw each other.

Lord, you didn’t even know if he liked you that much, but judging by whatever this is, it happened to be quite a bit. You huff and push him back with a scene of finality, slithering backwards into the hut before slamming the door. 

There’s a low grumble from outside, the barrier shaking as a large paw presses on it with immense force. 

“No!” You order, pulse running. “No—you figure yourself out first! I’m not letting you in like that.” 

The sudden enraged roar is so loud the broken window shakes. It makes your veins quiver under your skin. But there's a heavy slam of leaving feet moments later, the sound of screeching trees as branches are bent back. 

You pause and stand straighter after a long minute. Your lungs inhale.

“It listens better than the man,” you breathe, feeling weak. Bravery was tiring. 

Yet, there was still the problem of the dead.

Simon Riley was the Ghost—a Werewolf. He’d killed people, many, many people in these trees. 

You grab at your neck softly, the scent of earth and blood stuck under your fingertips, infecting your very soul. 

“...So why didn’t he kill me?”

—

You helped yourself to the clothes in Mr. Riley’s trunk, taking what you could find and slipping into it for bed. It was nothing more than a large undershirt and pants, but you wouldn’t be the one complaining. Luck was back on your side, as you also found a small package of bandages and matches. 

Lighting the candles one by one, afterward, you did what you could for your wounds. You weren’t keen on traveling to find water to clean them out, so, for now, a wrapping would have to do. 

The beast patrolled the glade. 

You’d hear him occasionally bend by the door, shadowing along the crack before there was a tapping of claws on stone and a huff of hot breath. He’d always leave you unaccosted, a smacking of gums and licking of chops heard through the cracked window before the dog darts away. 

Where fear had been previously, curiosity starkly remained at the forefront. 

“Simon Riley,” you mutter, sitting on the edge of his bed after that same event that had happened not an hour earlier. And the same an hour before that. Clockwork. 

A wolf stalking his hunting grounds, making sure all is where it’s supposed to be.

He smells you in here. 

“It’s too damn late for this,” you huff, rubbing at your face. Ideally, you’d like a bath and a hot meal, but there was no supper here. No food at all, really. 

You plop down into the feather pillow, face nuzzling into the deep scent that you remember smelling from Mr. Riley as he came into your tailor’s shop. This was demented—unholy action. 

If this were a different woman in this bed, she might be praying to her God for some salvation, an angel to come down and whisk her away. But the thought is like a stake in your heart. 

If there were a different woman in this bed…would she even be breathing as you were?

You shiver and burrow deeper into the covers, pulling them up to your chin. For whatever reason, Simon Riley, the Ghost, had stayed his fangs from your supple flesh; now you weren’t even sure that when he was leaning over you he had any intention to hurt you at all. He had seemed like he was…waiting for something.

Simon Riley, your neighbor. 

Your neighbor the Werewolf. 

You groan and hold yourself in the candle-light, unsure. You’d heard the tales—the murders. Mr. Lambert. Those countless hunters mutilated. Like a child, you pull sparse memories that bring it all to light.

Mr. Riley was quite the gentleman when you happened to catch him. 

There was never a time when you had to carry in your own fabric shipments—he was always outside to grab them before you could get one hand on the carriage compartment; it all seemed like lifting a feather. You’d speak to him about his day and his trips to the bigger cities that he always frequented. 

He’d told you it was because of his business, and you’d refrained from asking what exactly it was that allowed him to purchase such exquisite clothes—or even how they always ended up ruined. 

As your eyes flutter in this bed full of long black hair, you sigh and listen to the howls from far off in the distance; shivering.

“Where do you need ‘em, then?” The accent was aggressive, yes, but the tone was casual. You smile over at Mr. Riley and see the large trunk in his hands as the carriage leaves outside. 

“I don’t know,” you tease, “But I think you look quite dashing being such a ready and willing neighbor, Sir.” 

“That it?” He raises an eyebrow, but no expression slashes his visible face. To even get that was something to celebrate. 

You raise a hand and wave him behind your counter, chuckling. 

“I jest, Mr. Riley. Right back here the same as always.” He wordlessly ambles forward, feet heavy upon your wooden floors. 

You smell the scent of fresh earth as he passes, and your fingers twitch at your sides. Clearing your throat, you ask easily as the man strangely flinches as he brushes your arm, eyes flicking just a smidge wider. 

“Any more travels this month, then? I am a bit curious to hear about where you’ll be off to this time.” 

“London,” is a swift answer. Brown eyes glance at you as the trunk is set down with a puff of breath in the space below the shelves. “Ever been?”

You shrug. 

“No, unfortunately.” Simon stands to his full height, hands finding the insides of his pockets. You should be hesitant of his stature—his great shoulders—but you find it suits him. He tilts his head at you, his cap off today to let his wisps of hair collect at his temple. “You?”

Mr. Riley grunts, feet shifting. 

“Quite a few.” He blinks slowly. “Not missin’ much. Bloody filthy.” 

You laugh and tilt your head down, staring at the floor for a moment as your cheeks heat up. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

Simon puffs a sound of amusement, looking you up and down. He stares at your waist before he hums. 

“That a new one?” You look down at your corset above your blouse, putting a hand above the embroidery and nodding earnestly, touched that he’d seen it. Mr. Riley was far more in tune with his surroundings than others. 

“Yes, had a horrible time with the designs—I’m not quite sure I like it yet.” 

“It’s nice.” The man seems just as surprised about his quick outburst as you do, wide eyes meeting each other to connect with bare emotion. 

It’s a long pause that leaves you stuttering, your heart skipping a beat as your flesh burns with brimming affection. Simon grunts tensely and darts his eyes away to stare hard at the counter behind you.

“Well, I…” you tilt your head, beaming through a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Mr. Riley. That’s high praise coming from you.” 

“It’s nothing.” He takes his leave, firmly moving past you and shifting his body to make sure he doesn’t accidentally run into you. “Wear whatever you want, won’t make a difference… You’ll still be lovely.” 

Before you can gape into the expanse of his back at the blunt compliment, he’s already out of the door with a whisper. You watch him cross the street from the window and see him climb his steps, sucking down a shaky breath. 

An embarrassing giggle meets air. 

The man far across the street pauses in front of his door, gloved hand outstretched. He stays there for a hint of a moment, and you swear he turns his head to space you a tiny glance over his shoulder. 

Suddenly feeling as if you’d gotten caught, though you don’t know why, you squeak and hurry away into the back room. 

You wake up to the sound of the door opening. 

Drowsy and fatigued, your ears twitch to the sound of low groans and clipped growls—thick curses that would make any mother go shy that slip in and out of your reality. 

You should be afraid.

Footsteps stumble in, the thick closing and bolting of the door eching. Candles flicker through your eyelids, and you make a low noise in your throat as your face scrunches. 

All sound ceases. 

So quiet that death himself would vacate the area, your brain catches the end of a set of surprised footsteps coming to the bed and a sudden low exclamation of, “Bloody fucking hell.”

It all fades in and out, glimmering and glinting. 

A swift cleaning of the objects in his possession, organization, and fixing—moving papers. Feet stop at every other minute, and eyes burn into your face from above the covers. 

His fingers pull back at fabric, seeing the clothes you wear, the ones that he needs as of currently. 

A deep chuckle encircles you; your sleep deepens. Those same fingers, like a plague of slumber, travel up your bandaged arms and twitch along your shoulder—moving up until they come to the pulse at your neck. They add pressure and a breathless grunt is expelled as you tilt your head farther up. 

That touch is moved to your chin, moving it back down to hide your flesh from that brown gaze before a heavy sigh brushes over you. The covers are all at once pulled farther up along your form. 

The shadow disappears, and with it, it takes the extra blanket from the end of the bed, harshly grunting as the fabric is shuffled around and wrapped. A tiny mutter.

“You have a fuckin’ horrible habit of complicating things.” 

You sleep on, and, if you were conscious enough to realize it, you would have felt the gaze on you for the remainder of the night from the table—watching, barely blinking above the heavy press of eyes. 

Silent, if only for the soft breaths taken and no sooner exhaled on long, even, airways. 

As if not but a dog that watches the moon under starlight; the gentle sight of snow falling outside of the den. 

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod mw22 #x female reader #call of duty x you #mw2 #mw2 2022 #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #mwii #mw x reader #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod simon riley

[ddejavvu]

hiiiii! i love ur sirius x animagus!reader collection :)

how about one where the girls dont know that r is the cat they see sirius hanging out with and one of them knits a sweater for sirius' 'cat' and sirius and the boys r just like "shes vicious when it comes to costumes :(" feeling bad for whoever made the sweater but then r like lets them put it on or smth and theyre surprised?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

i've sort of twisted your prompt just a teeny tiny bit!! i hope all of the parts you liked most are still in there, though :') // also this one was hard to tag 'cause again technically it's sirius x reader but he's not present and she's not with james either so i used both of their tags just because they're technically the central focus of the overarching story even if this part is a little less defined

--

James thinks it might be the worst day of his life so far, and isn't sure what mischief he could have inflicted upon anyone to possibly deserve this cruel of a punishment.

Lily Evans is standing before him, face kind instead of pinched in annoyance as it so often is at his presence, and she's handing him something. As in, he will take it from her and their hands will brush. As in, her skin will touch his. As in, he's never going to wash his hand again.

"I'm glad I found you,-"

She's glad she found him!

"-I couldn't catch Sirius before he left Potions," She laments, "Could you let him know I made this for his cat, Potter?"

James's stellar brain and above-average intelligence supply him with the phrase, 'Huh?', which might possibly be the least embarrassing thing he's ever said to her, and that doesn't fare well.

"That's Sirius's new cat, isn't it?" She presses on, and James forces himself to tear his eyes off of her ethereal face to glance at you, draped lazily over the couch cushion beside him soaking up the warmth of the fire. Your eyes were lazy before Lily had shown up, but at the sight of what she's holding out; knitwear, they narrow and sharpen. It's an odd shape, not human size, with openings for four legs.

"I thought she might be getting cold now that the snow's started up," She tilts her chin towards the window, glazed over with frost, "And I just figured I could knit her a little sweater."

Not even James's fear of your claws can deter him from accepting the gift from Lily. He takes it - and their hands brush! Just like he'd hoped for! - grabbing you unceremoniously around the middle and dragging you onto his lap.

"She loves sweaters." He fibs, shamefully distracted by Lily's face as he tries wrestling you into the garment. You're well aware of why he's lying to her, because the last time you'd been faced with cat clothes, you'd ripped a hole in his bedspread. But this is Lily, and you refrain from shredding the fabric of his pants as he shoves you into the sweater.

He's clumsy with it, because he's not giving you his full attention, and you let out a disgruntled meow as he smears the fabric of the sweater over your face instead of tugging your head through the hole.

"Now, Mittens," He chuckles tensely, "Just- put your paw through there, don't scratch me-! And- there." He announces proudly, hoisting you up into the air just beneath the joints of your front paws. He displays you to Lily, and you steel yourself as she croons and reaches out to pet you. She's far gentler than the man holding you, and you'd appreciate it at any other point in time, but the sweater she'd knit you is itching against your fur and dragging it against the grain, and you'd like to leave it in ribbons as you bolt up the staircase. For everyone's sake, you won't.

"Look at that," James announces proudly, "She loves it. Thanks, Lily."

She smiles, a soft gesture, but not a weak one. She nods, "James," And takes her leave, heading towards the girls' dorms staircases, inevitably about to find your bed empty and wonder where you are at this hour of night.

"She said my name," James breathes, only after the door to your dorm has been safely shut, and she runs no risk of hearing him. He looks incredulously at you, in your tense, rigid stance on the couch cushions, "She didn't call me Potter! She- you're a miracle." James levels you with an intensely grateful stare, thumbing fondly at the knitwear that's itching viciously at your fur, "You're my wingman, Y/N. I mean it, you're putting that sweater on every day, I'll manhandle you into it myself."

You yowl at him, a sound that typically scares him off, but he doesn't yield, grinning impishly at you instead.

"Whatever you say, Mittens."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction #james potter x reader #marauders x reader

[scarletssienna]

Beggin' for Footnotes

Summary - Some things aren’t meant to last forever. And despite you and Wanda loving each other you’re not sure if it’s going to work out anymore. 4.0k word count

Warnings - Hurt (not much comfort), heavy angst, swearing, mommy Wanda, oral, fingering, face slapping, sub!reader, degradation, praise, begging, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, hair pulling, mean Wanda, edging, face-sitting, thigh riding

AN - This is my first post on here! I’ve done writings in the past but I thought I’d try a new format and space to post it! :)) I plan on continuing this if I can find the energy lol!

Part 2

18+, minors + men dni

Not every love was supposed to last. No matter how great, how wonderful, sometimes things still end. You knew Wanda like the back of your hand. And she knows you all the same. So when one of her vices came up after one of your worst fights, you could only watch. Wanda stood out on the back porch. Cigarette between her two fingers as she stared off into the darkness. There was this empty sickening in both of your stomachs that this may be the end. At this point, all options and solutions had been exhausted. You knew it was time. You watched out the kitchen window, unable to tear your eyes away as she slowly inhaled before a large cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, the cold temperatures enhancing it. Your fingers squeezed the sponge from the sink as soapy water flooded between your fingers. The dishes had been long forgotten lately as neither of you had had the energy to wash them. This was unusual for Wanda as she liked to keep the house showroom ready at all times. You forcefully ripped your eyes away from her as you began to wash the dishes, trying to make up for anything you could. To fix what you could in this messy situation. 

The house that had once been so loud with laughter and joy now lingered in empty silence. Your playlist of every song you two had loved played softly over the speakers around the house. If it had been several months ago you would have pulled her closely in your arms, dancing around the kitchen despite her laughs and teases about how cheesy it was. Her nose would crinkle as you sang along in Sokovian to one of her favorite songs. You butchered the pronunciation, but you would try, she could tell. She would have given in eventually and threaded her hands in your hair as she rested her forehead against yours. You would have kissed her, kissed her as if she was going to leave the second you let go. In this reality, she very well might.

You watched out the window again for a moment before getting distracted by the dish you were washing. The knife in your hands harshly tore against your flesh and you quickly dropped the knife into the sink, a soft yelp leaving your lips. You backed away quickly as blood began to drip down your hand. It was a quick scramble for the kitchen towel as you tried to stop the bleeding. Wanda had always been there to comfort you when you were injured in the past. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to stop it as tears quickly began to fall on your face. You let off a soft sob as you abandoned the dishes, heading upstairs to your shared bedroom. Hurrying into the bathroom you discarded the bloodied towel onto the sink countertops and washed the wound before messily bandaging it up. You had never been very good at doing it yourself so Wanda had always insisted on caring for you but you didn't think that was very well an option at this point. 

Tears flooded down your face as the events from the night tore your heart into shreds. You were no longer crying due to the injury. It was a different kind of pain. You stumbled over to the bed and threw your pants onto the floor before climbing into your side of the bed. The sheets were quickly pulled up to your chin as your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs. Quickly, you drifted off into a tired and pained sleep. 

When Wanda returned inside she hadn't expected to see dishes washed especially as she investigated further and saw the drops of blood on the floor and a bloody knife in the sink. Despite the fight, she still cared and loved you. She quickly rushed upstairs in an attempt to find you. When she noticed the door slightly ajar and silence in the room she quietly peaked her head in. She sighed relieved when she saw you asleep in bed, seemingly uninjured from her view. The smell of cigarettes covered her and she wandered quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the bathroom door behind her. For everyone but you her walls were high. She hardly let anyone in. and when she did, it felt as if it always ended this way. The feeling of being cursed towards relationships had set in. She washed her hair, going over the fight in her head as she wondered what could have gone differently, how she could save it. If it was even worth it at this point. 

Tensions had been rising over the past couple of weeks. You both had been working too much recently and had hardly had time for one another. It seemed as if every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, sleep, repeat. It had been killing you both. The littlest things set you both off. It would end up in screaming matches and sleeping alone every time. What set you both over the edge this time was not so little. Natasha, your mutual friend, had begun flirting with you. While she respected your relationship, she had always believed you two were not good for each other. So when you fought last week and you ended up at her house she had done nothing but comfort you. You thought nothing of Natashas' intentions but Wanda knew otherwise. This had sent her into a fit of rage when Natasha dropped you off this morning and kissed your cheek goodbye. 

You both fought for hours, arguing about anything that came to mind, but mainly Natasha. Had you understood and been able to read her mind as well, you would have understood her intentions and sided with Wanda, not seeing Natasha anymore. But you couldn't and this frustrated Wanda. When she attempted to control your mind you quickly noticed and this sent you two further down the line of fighting. You hated it when she used her powers on you. When you thought to yourself that you wished you could just forget everything that had happened Wanda broke. She had misunderstood. Thinking you had meant forgetting her. Silence fell over the fight and she went outside to have a cigarette. Her thoughts consumed her as her heart hurt. 

With how often the fights had been recently as well as how busy you've been, you'd not been intimate in weeks. The tension begins to tear you both apart. When she finished her shower she pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts before popping her head out the bathroom door to check if you were still sleeping. When she saw you, she had to determine what to do. Did she sleep with you? Or did she go to the guest room? She decided that you wouldn't want her in bed and quietly tip-toed to the guest room based on what she had misunderstood. That night she cried herself to sleep as well. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you woke up the next morning you sat up groggily and sighed to yourself as you didn't see Wanda in bed, the memories of the night prior sinking in. Despite your anger you went to see where she had slept for the night, mostly just wanting to make sure she hadn't ended up locked out on the porch freezing to death. You saw her asleep in the guest room, her makeup smudged and muddled from tears, and her shower. You sighed and went back to your room to get ready for the day. It was unusual for you to be up first and you made use of it, quietly leaving for work before she awoke. 

You returned home late that night, having gone to the bar after work with a few co-workers to unwind and relax. All you could think about was Wanda and the ache between your legs grew. You were mad, but maybe you needed that. You quietly entered the house, making a note to lock the door behind you before heading to find Wanda. You weren't extremely intoxicated, but the anger, lack of quality sleep, stress, and tequila were having a bit of an impact. You could tell she had been home for a couple of hours, the discarded takeout garbage by the trash. Suddenly she caught your eye outside on the back porch. Of course, she was smoking again. You thought to yourself before acting on impulse. You went to the door and harshly pulled the sliding door open. She let out a startled gasp that didn't happen often as she always seemed aware of your presence. 

“Get inside.” You said firmly in a tone that had been unusual for you to take on with her. You had always been the more submissive in the relationship. The words shocked you both a little. She obliged anyway, out of more surprise than anything. She put the cigarette out before coming inside. You shut the door behind her, looking into her eyes before quickly pressing her against the door in a bruising kiss. She yelped out of surprise before kissing back, her hands tangling into your hair. She ignored the taste of tequila on your lips as she knew she tasted like cigarettes and couldn't defend herself for that. 

You made quick work of snaking your hand underneath her shirt, groping her chest as your tongues began to fight. She had never seen this level of dominance out of you. While it surprised and intrigued her, she couldn't have it. You both knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of her as it had been entirely too long since you two had done anything together. Her hand tightened with a grip of your hair as she roughly pulled your head back, quickly beginning to kiss and nip at your neck. You let out a moan as she tugged at your hair, stumbling backward slightly as she pushed you off of her. 

“Upstairs. “ She muttered firmly. You could see the darkness in her eyes and did not question it, quickly moving upstairs to your room. The past few weeks your dynamic had been shallow and lacking. You both needed rules in life. You need a guideline to follow, and she needs an outlet of control. When you got upstairs you looked around the room, taking several deep breaths before going to crack a window to get some airflow. Your jaw clenched as you took a few deep breaths trying to focus on relaxing. You closed the curtains forcefully, a little too forcefully perhaps as they, along with the curtain rod came tumbling down. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall as you knew Wanda would be mad. As you heard her footsteps approach you quickly tugged off your shirt, tossing it in a pile alongside your discarded pants. You had already dug your grave and it was getting deeper. Thoughts raced through your head about what punishment would come. The more you thought the more your legs pressed together for any kind of release you could gain. Just as you sat down on the bed the door swung open. “What the hell was that?” She asked. Her voice was angry and her accent began to peak through her words as she spoke. Her head quickly turned and noticed the window. “Did you do this?” she asked in almost a patronizing tone. She knew you did it, the guilt on your face was obvious. 

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as she spoke, gnawing on it nervously as you considered your options. Slowly, you shook your head, the hesitation clear as tears brimmed your eyes. She walked over to you, one eyebrow raised in a way that she knew made you weak in the knees. She raised her hand before a loud echoing slap hit your cheek. You let out a moan and pressed your legs together harder as tears finally fell.  “Lying gets you nowhere. I'll ask you again, Detka.” she paused, faining tenderness as she wiped a tear away from your face. “Did you do this?” every word she spoke was drawn out and stern as she raised her eyebrow and held your chin in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. Slowly you began to nod, bracing yourself for the slap you knew was about to come. When she raised her hand a slap did not come. Instead, she giggled at your flinch and reached down, snapping your bra snap on your shoulder. “This is what happens when little girls try to do things that are too big for them,” she spoke slowly, making sure each word sunk in. “You didn't even have time to fully undress for Mommy.” she shook her head and snapped your bra strap once again before pushing you to lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of you, straddling one of your thighs as she ground her hips, working herself up. 

“Please Mommy,” you whined out softly as your hips raised into her, begging for any amount of pleasure you could get. Another slap fell hard across your cheek and you felt your thoughts slowly drift further into a fuzzy headspace. You moaned at the feeling. Her hand was wet from the tears that had fallen down your face and she made it a point to wipe her hand on your bare stomach. 

“I didn’t permit you to speak. Did I?” She asked firmly as she leaned down, kissing and nipping at your neck. You shook your head frantically as you struggled to keep your hands by your sides.  She slid her hands back up your stomach and muttered under her breath. “Good girl.” Before pulling your bra down to reveal your breasts. She wasted no time as she quickly kissed down towards your chest, taking the small bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around your nipple as her hand snaked down into your panties, finally touching you where you needed it most. She gasped dramatically and pulled her head up, locking eyes with you when she felt your wetness. Your face turned a deep shade of red as she proceeded to tease and taunt you for how wet you had been at her from only just slapping and teasing you. All of your thoughts were consumed by her in a fuzzy bliss. 

Without warning she slipped two fingers inside of you easily. Her fingers made quick work of pumping in and out, stretching and curling them just where you needed it most. You moaned loudly and wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her body closer to you as you hid your face in her shoulder, biting down softly on the tender flesh. This depicted a soft moan from Wanda as her hips jerked slowly against your thigh. She pulled her body back with a grin as she began to bite softly across your jaw. 

“Let me see your pretty face baby. I want to see you while I fuck you.” She said her fingers worked faster, her thumb reaching up to touch your throbbing clit. You blushed red as you looked into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window casting a moonlit glow across her face, a smirk forming across it. Just as quickly as she worked you up to an orgasm, she stopped. She pulled her hand away quickly and you found yourself frantically reaching for her wrist as your hips jerked underneath her.

“No! Mommy!” You yelled out exasperated as tears fell quickly from your eyes at the loss of sensation. She smirked down at you, her tongue slowly licking her lips. 

“You didn't think I'd let you cum that quickly after what a brat you've been the past few weeks little girl?” She asked in a patronizing manner as she pulled her hand out of your panties and brought her fingers to her lips. You moaned at the sight, her tongue licking her fingers clean, making a show of the process. Her fingers then slid into your mouth and you groaned at the taste of your arousal mixed with her. Your tongue swirled around her fingers as you proceeded to suck her fingers. 

“Please Mommy.” was all you could seem to muster out after she pulled her fingers out of your mouth. Your mind was clouded and fogged and just where Wanda wanted it. 

“Silly me,” she smiled as she looked down. “Mommy has been giving you all the pleasure, she completely forgot to undress.” she motioned towards her clothes before standing up. You groaned and reached for her when she stood, no longer touching you. You let out a soft murmur as your hands grabbed at her shirt, pressing your legs together. She stripped before walking back towards you. She tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them towards the pile of clothes before doing the same with your bra. You couldn't help but notice the wetness that had soaked Wanda's panties and now glistened her thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight as all you wanted to do was taste her. 

You knew how often you had fought lately and how the arguments left you due for punishment. You just weren't exactly sure what form it would take. Anticipation flooded through your body as you looked up into her eyes, your eyes wide and innocent. 

“You're going to eat me out until I cum, maybe then I'll give you what you want,” she stated firmly as she squeezed at your hips. Her touches were not gentle. Her fingers dug into your tender flesh, all of her anger, stress, and tension coming out onto you. You moaned at the touch, more sensitive and aware with each touch and mark she left across your body. She let go with a slap to your thigh and you groaned at the loss of her. You sat up and watched as she moved around the room, sitting on the bed in the middle, spreading her legs for you as she watched with dark eyes. “Come make Mommy feel good.” Her voice dripped with arousal as her words of encouragement enticed you further, not that it took much at this point though.

Quickly you moved and settled yourself between her legs. You slowly began kissing up her thighs, licking the path of arousal she had left for you. She grumbled impatiently above you, clearly already ready for attention where she needed it. Her hand snaked through your hair, gently at first as it stroked your scalp. She then grabbed a fistful, tugging your hair harshly as she forced you up higher, pushing your head between her legs. At the tug, you let out a loud moan as you cursed under your breath. You got the hint and stuck out your tongue quickly getting work between her legs. Your tongue licked up her slit before it brought fast attention to her clit. You brought your fingers up and slipped two fingers inside of her. You were kinder than Wanda had been to you, moving your fingers less harshly and aggressively. It worked nonetheless as she quickly rose to an orgasm with the combination of both your fingers and tongue. Her grip on your hair did not loosen as her hips began to jerk against your face. As she reached her peak she let out a loud moan, her hips moving frantically as she tugged harshly at your hair. The taste that hit your tongue made you moan as you quickly lapped up as much as she would allow before pulling your head away. 

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, a gentler hand moving to your neck. You leaned up her body as you kissed her passionately. When her tongue slid across your bottom lip and your mouth you eagerly allowed it entrance. A smile grew across her face as she pulled away. You whined at the loss but it was quickly relieved when she pressed a singular finger to your lips. 

“Mommy.” You moaned out as your hips began to grind against her stomach. Her hand snaked down her stomach to touch you, her fingers ghosting over your clit. 

“Come sit on my face Detka.” She said firmly as she adjusted her positioning, letting your thighs rest next to her head. You were hesitant yet eager as you slowly lowered yourself down, moaning loudly as her tongue finally made contact. Your hips jerked against her face as you ground against her tongue. You were worked up quickly, faster than ever as she seemed to know exactly where you needed it. She mumbled out from underneath you as she worked you up towards an orgasm. “Beg for it, Malyshka.”

Quickly words began to tumble out of your mouth as desperation to cum was needed. “Please, Mommy. Please!” You practically yelled as your hips jerked more, her nails digging into your thighs. “Please let me cum.” You begged. She complied with a grin.

“Cum for Mommy, Detka.” She said as her tongue moved rapidly beneath you. Instantly you reached your peak, reaching for the bead frame in front of you to steady yourself as you moaned loudly. When Wanda felt you had settled enough she gently pulled you down next to her and into her arms. You shook a little in Wanda's arms as she held you for the first time in weeks. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she slowly combed through the mess she had made, taking time to massage your scalp. All the thoughts of your fights had completely melted away and you were consumed by her and her embrace. 

“Mommy.” You murmured as tears began to fall on your cheeks again, your face nuzzling closely in the crook of her neck.

“You did so good baby, so good.” She praised quietly as she kissed behind your ear. Her fingertips found a gentle pattern of scratching up and down your back with one hand while the other massaged where she pulled your hair. Praise was whispered into your ear as she held you closely, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Slowly your sobs calmed and you settled into her embrace, slowly lifting your head to leave soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wanda.” The words left your mouth for the first time in weeks and a soft smile crept across your lips. Wandas' face glimmered with love as she pulled you into a kiss. 

“I love you too, Detka.” She whispered through kisses as she could only hold you closer. After a while of the silent embraces Wanda's thoughts of the fights crept back into memory. “We’re going to be okay.” She hesitated and looked towards you. “Right?” She spoke softly, her voice filled with fear at the thought of losing you. You nodded and kissed her softly, your mind foggy and cloudy as all you wanted was to be close to her. That night you slept close, tangled up in each other's love, neither wanting to pull away.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning when you woke up snuggled up in Wanda's arms felt different. The bliss that usually followed had dissipated and all you could think about was the pain of being with her. You gained a sinking pit in your stomach as guilt and fear coursed through your body. The flight response kicked in. You couldn't be with her, not now. Tears began to fall as you quickly but carefully left the bed and Wanda's embrace. Hurriedly you moved for some clothes as you threw on the closest things you could find without waking her. You reached for the door handle but paused. One glance back to Wanda confirmed it. You couldn't be here. So where did you go? Who greeted you with open arms? Natasha.

#wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #marvel #wanda #mommy wanda #smut #hurt/comfort #angst #wanda x reader #wandavision #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n

[eekism]

mama!

: ̗̀➛ lucifer morningstar x dom! f! reader : ̗̀➛ warnings: overstim, sub! lucifer, dacryphilia, mean! fdom if you squint, mommy kink : ̗̀➛ notes: wooo first post lets get it

“fuck, please —” lucifer’s desperate. after countless orgasms, you had him teetering on the edge for what felt like an eternity now. “i—i have to cum, i have to —!!”

his eyes rolled back, jaw hanging open. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. the pleasure was mind-numbing, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

“aww, honey,” you cooed, delighting in the way he whimpered in response, “you can do it, i know you can! don’t run from it,” gentle hands continued to work around his cock, which was fiery red and impossibly hard.

more tears leaked out as ruby eyes squeezed shut, a hopeless attempt in grounding himself. he needed to calm down, needed to breathe. “mm!! puh—please, please mommy please!!” he didn’t even know what he was begging for. “hurts! ahhn — fuck, it hurts!”

showing mercy, you slowed your hand movements, squeezing his base gently. “you’re doing so good, baby. such a good boy for mama,” he cracked his eyes open, chest heaving under you. “that’s it sweetheart, catch your breath. ahh, you’re so good. my perfect angel.”

big, watery eyes looked up at you. “’m a good boy for you, mama,” he nodded, “please let me cum. i really wanna — wanna cum!” he bit his lip as your fingers trailed up to his sensitive tip.

smiling, you placed a sweet kiss on his shiny lips. “then cum for me, my baby. let yourself go,”

ivory thighs shook violently against you as he grew closer and closer. his hair became a disheveled mess under him as he thrashed around, simultaneously chasing and running away from the stimulation.

“oh, mommy! fuck, i—i’m gonna cum! i’m gonna cum! oh—” his breathing was sharp and quick, dark brows furrowed over hazy eyes, “—’m cumming! cumming!”

the pleasure was blinding. lucifer’s body was strung tight as a bow before he shot off, a scream ripping from his throat. you worked him through his orgasm, torturing his tip, using his cum as lubricant. the fallen angel continued to let loose broken moans, his head tossing back and forth against his pillow.

“f—fuh—” his feet slipped against the bed beneath you in an attempt to put some distance between you and his aching cock, “fuck! [name]!”

you smiled innocently. “what is it, my love?”

lucifer gasped harshly, teary eyes nearly crossing, “no more, please, no more — ‘s too much!! i can’t,” he arched his back, wiggling his hips away from you best he could, “i can’t cum anymore!”

you cooed as his claws frantically searched for purchase, finally settling on shredding the pillows by his head. “but baby, i thought you said you wanted to cum? hm?” you were unforgiving, squeezing harder and slower than before, “mommy’s just trying to help you cum and you’re being so ungrateful!”

he whimpered at your pout, hissing and groaning. “s—sorry mama, th—thank you for helping me cum,” lucifer managed in-between sniffles, voice broken. “i love you, thank you, th—thank you, mmn!” his voice cracked as another whine let loose from his raw throat.

your heart and stomach warmed at his sweet words. lucifer looked so beautiful underneath you, soft hair sprawled out, cheeks, neck, and ears the same shade as his damp ruby eyes; the very essence of venusian beauty. no matter how many times he’s come undone beneath you, it was always extraordinary, each time more wonderful than before.

“i love you too, my sweet boy,” he sniffled as you let go of his sensitive cock, smiling weakly as you planted a kiss on his sweaty forehead. “you’re so good for mama. you’re always so lovely.”

he closed his eyes, allowing himself to float and sink into the bed as you cleaned him up. “mmn. thank you,” his raspy voice was thick with exhaustion.

before you could get up to get up to put the soiled rag in the bathroom, you felt a warm hand pull you back gently. “hm? what is it, baby? does something hurt?”

he looked so fucked-out. “kiss?” lucifer asked softly, face still flushed. he’s always been so needy after your sessions. but of course, you indulge him.

#lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin x reader smut #hazbin smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin x dom reader #dom reader #lucifer x dom reader #lucifer smut #hazbin lucifer smut #hazbin lucifer x reader smut #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader

[lillithhearts]

is it okay if I ask for Alastor x Reader who is like angel dusts sibling and reader goes to Angel dust you talk about their lasting crush on Alastor?

Alastor x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

EVERYONE SHUT UP! YES I LOVE WINGMAN ANGEL

Not proofread + 4:30 Lilly so writing might differ

Reader is Gender neutral!

Being Angels sibling wasn't easy, at least within in the hotel..or outside of it for that matter; but in the hotel it was definitely better, at least everyone didn't try and talk to you about your brother and instead talk to you.

You however had your eyes on someone very specific, a person not many people would have their eyes on..well, Maybe your brother in a— joking fucking around type of way; but your eyes were looking at the Tall Red demon in a very different way; a fond way you weren't all that used to.

Thing is you were the youngest in your family, that didn't rid you of your family's habits and mannerisms, So you weren't surprised when you ended up in hell alongside most of your family but your brother had kept you away from many scenes, that included partners; so your new found feelings for the Demon were overwhelming, suffocatingly so and you had no idea where to go with it, that lead you to go to the only person you trust in this newly found shit hole

"Anthony?"

"what's up, sweet cheeks?"

Angel was still not used to being called by his real name, But it was allowed in private from prying ears; he set fat nuggets down and sat up on the side of the bed; patting a spot next to him gesturing you to sit with him, a familiar smile on his face while you scooted next to him

"what's on your mind?"

"Alastor."

"oh—"

Angel laughed as you covered your face with your hands, His name bluntly slipping past your lips as you cringed at yourself

"he's like the Boogeyman, don't say his name too loud or he'll appearrr"

You smacked his arm and laughed, watching Angel make "scary" gestures as you both giggled amongst one another, before you patted your thighs and dramatically inhaled and sighed

"yeah yeah.. Boy troubles aye? Been there"

"yeah so help me"

"with him, Sweetie I can pray that's it"

"Anthony!!"

"sorry sorry!!"

Your big brother kneeled over laughing as you scoffed at him, crossing your arms with a pout as you cleared Your throat

"ANYWAY, I need help, I have no idea how to approach him— if at all!"

It took the spider demon a bit to compose himself Before he ran his fingers through his hair before looking at you, a sincere genuine look on his face, his voice soft and gentle; just like you remembered

"I don't know mister cheeky Alastor that much, but he does seem to like you, so I'd say go slow; test the waters or he might rip you to shreds"

You tensed, he was right and you were playing a dangerous game trying to woo the radio demon and you knew that but what'd you have to lose?..oh right your life yeah yeah

Falling flat on the soft bed you groaned; Alastor was tricky especially for someone who'd never flirted in their life so this was uncharted territory and you weren't exactly starting on beginner mode, you skipped straight to expert. Angel soon joined you in laying on the bed, him to staring at the ceiling as you pondered and wondered, He was probably zoning out but whatever, but after moments of silence Anthony soon realized this was a heavy topic on your heart so he turned on his side, pulling you to his side; one of his hands ruffling your hair

"worry about that tomorrow will you? You need your beauty sleep; Alastor won't date a slob"

"what won't I do?"

"AAAAHHHHH"

Authors note: Sorry for the ending Im starting to get a headache😭😭

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #angel dust fluff #angel dust #i love my silly lil anons

[keisobe]

THE HCS OF READER PLAYING WITH NETEYAM AND LO’AK’S HANDS WERE SO CUTE OMG.

perhaps you can do hcs for neteyam and lo’ak where the reader gets slightly jealous bc they’re spending more time with another girl? i wonder how they would react…

tysm!

── ◝✩ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 (𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝟐)

characters. lo’ak sully + neteyam sully

notes. okay so i love angsty jealousy tropes A LOT. especially when the reader is the one jealous so thank you for requesting this anon! i hope i did the sully boys justice ^^ + not completely proofread

neteyam ✩‧₊˚

jealously never usually crosses his mind in all honesty, actually he rarely even feels an ounce of envy himself. he’s confident and values his pride and skill, so there was really nothing to worry about. when neteyam started to date you, his mindset never changed, but when he found out you were the jealous one, he couldn’t help but feel a bit more prideful. neteyam finds your jealousy to be amusing and he feels ensured that he’s protected by you.

from a short distance, you watched neteyam speaking to a girl— noticing how she lightly brushed her hand against his as they observed maps of pandora together. yes, you trusted neteyam completely. one thing that you admired about him was his boundless loyalty he had for the people he love. but there was itch, an irrational itch to just seat in between them and rip the map into useless shreds of paper. your fangs dangerously bit down on your lip, nearly drawing crimson.

without second thought, you abandoned your hiding spot and marched towards the pair. neteyam notices you first, his yellow eyes observing the furrow of your brows and the pout on your lips that he loved so much.

he couldn’t help but grin at your flaming jealousy.

“sorry i have to go,” neteyam looked over to the girl with feigned sympathy, reaching over his hand to feel your soft hands latch onto his slim fingers. you never acknowledged the girl, instead you tugged neteyam from his seat and snatched the maps from her grasp— walking away without looking back.

“you hang out with her too much,” you hissed, trying to decipher one of the intricate maps but all you see was confusing scribbles and tiny written language.

“don’t tell me you’re jealous?” neteyam snickered, raising his eyebrows playfully at you.

“i am,” you admitted with a firm voice, not afraid to express your envy. you handed him the maps that were slightly crinkled after snatching it from the faceless girl— you still had no plans to find out who she was.

neteyam felt a little at ease by your possessiveness.

“then i’ll teach you how to read them,” neteyam smoothed out the creases of the maps. a sigh of relief came out of him when he saw you try to hide a smile.

neteyam will tell you how cute you look when you’re jealous after you calm down.

lo’ak ✩‧₊˚

he was very familiar with the feelings of envy, being brothers with neteyam and all. growing up as an outcast of his people has put him in situations where he felt insecure and mad at the world. but once lo’ak started dating you, he was surprised that you were also the jealous type. in all honesty, he felt reassured that you felt so strongly towards him— it made him fall for you even harder. also, lo’ak feels secretly prideful knowing that he’s yours only.

“breathe in,” lo’ak takes a deep breath. “and breathe out.”

he unleashes a gust of air through his lips, sensing his heartbeat slowing down. tsireya smiled, proud of the progress they were making in their training. you were watching their session intently, the opaque shells that you collected in the depths of the sea were set aside— all covered with jagged lines and stab marks.

these past few days, lo’ak has been training with tsireya, leaving little room for you to be alone with him. the idea of him spending time with another girl left you completely bitter and miserable.

in celebration of his efforts, tsireya embraced him tightly, firmly wrapping her arms around his neck. lo’ak looked unsure what to do, his hands awkwardly hovering over her waist. all you could do is silently drag your knife as you carved the shell— each drag left a sour chime.

his eyes locked with yours, noticing the glint of red in your usual soft eyes. lo’ak gave you a reassuring gaze, whispering something in tsireya’s ear. whatever he said made her jump away in surprise and her silky voice released an endless amount of apologies— prompting her to leave the both of you alone.

the grip on your knife finally loosened, a rush of blood flooding back into your relieved veins. lo’ak walked over to you with a small smile on his blue face— flustered at how pretty you looked with a glare.

“you good?” he tilted his head in curiosity, taking one of the terribly carved shells and tossing them back into the clear ocean.

you feigned a smile, but the dark pools of your eyes made it obvious that you were angry.

“yes, i’m fine.” lo’ak didn’t believe a word, but that only made him adore you even more. 

he took your smaller hand into his larger ones, leading the both of you back into the village. for however long it’ll take him, he’ll always say he’s yours.

© 2022 keisobe – please do not copy any of my writing and repost or translate to other sites.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂 #ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁 #* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️ #* ੈ♡˳ — (lo’ak sully) 🎞️ #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #avatar headcanons #— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : drabbles

[thornbutch]

Surprise. (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Pairings: Fem!Jordan Li x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find a gift on your bed, given to you by your partner. What’s inside creates a stutter in your breath and a wet patch in your panties, but that isn’t all you’re receiving tonight.

Tags: Jordan Li, Gen V, matue, lingerie, smut, 18+, possessiveness, soft and kinky tbh, gift giving, STRAP!, reader gets DICKED down, strap-on sex (r receiving)

Word Count: 1.2k

You walked into your dorm, pleasantly surprised to find a neatly wrapped present on your bed. You set down your book bag and immediately began to rip open the gift like a kid on Christmas. The shredded wrap revealed a black box. This undoubtedly had to be the work of your partner, Jordan. It’s a wonder how they managed to get into your room and place the gift, but you chopped it up to your rarely-there roommate letting them in.

You opened the box, a tinted, dark hue of red creeping along your cheeks as you stared at what was inside. There was a note on top of a set of white, lacy lingerie. You picked up the note, identifying Jordan’s handwriting on it.

“Meet me in my room at 8. Don’t be late.”

You could hear their voice in your head as you read the note. If it were possible for you to blush anymore, you’d be the color of a tomato. You placed the note aside and picked up the skimpy underwear. You’d never worn something this elegant before. You wondered what possessed Jordan to buy this for you. They’d always been one for gifts, ever since the two of you started officially dating. The most sexual thing they had bought you was a condom, so this startled you.

You showed up at Jordan’s door, sporting their blue and red varsity jacket and oversized clothes underneath. Jordan opened the door in their masculine form, a sly smirk on their face when their eyes fell upon you. They let you inside their room, which was fairly tighter than usual.

“What’s the special occasion?” you questioned.

Jordan shrugged, “What? Can’t spoil my girl?”

You shivered at that, already feeling yourself being turned on by your partner. You hated how easy it was for them to turn you into a mess; they, on the other hand, absolutely adored it. You found yourself lying on the bed, Jordan on top of you, and their mouth on yours. The two of you kissed in a heated daze, the surroundings dissipating as you focused on each other’s bodies and breaths. It felt feverish- a moment like this. Jordan seemed to be some crazed hybrid, determined to leave marks on every part of your body. At first, they tore into your neck like it was their first meal of the day. Your neck was ravished and dark bruises formed in response to Jordan’s torment. You laid there and took it; “like a good girl,” as Jordan would say.

You were hesitant when Jordan began to take their jacket off of you. You knew what would come next, and Jordan had seen your naked body in all of its glory many times before, yet you felt nervous. The environment around you seemed to raise ten or so degrees, to the point it felt like you had to get out of that baggy shirt and raggedy sweatpants at that very second. Your cheeks changed colors ever so slightly as Jordan pulled your shirt off of you, revealing your lace-covered breasts. They needed to hold onto their self-control to not cum in their pants right then, so they shifted into their feminine form, curls ever-so-bouncy. Your pants were removed from you next. The lacy white panties matched your skin complexion perfectly, contrasting and standing out in all the ways Jordan admired.

Their lips were on yours once more, but this time they maneuvered you so that you were sitting on their lap, your clothed crotch rubbing against harsh, denim jeans. Jordan briefly stopped attacking you with their lips to reach over to their nightstand and remove a velvet box from the drawer. Inside the box, was a pretty, silver necklace, the letter J hanging from the chain.

“Just so everyone knows,” Jordan said, placing a soft kiss on your lips. They opened the clasp of the necklace and reached their arms over your head to place the necklace on your pretty neck. It sparkled on cue, bright like the glimmer in Jordan’s possessive eyes. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you whispered back, almost moved to tears. You knew it wasn’t your anniversary, your birthday, or any other special event. This was just Jordan spoiling you, their princess who they believed deserved the world for all you’ve been through and all they’ve put you through. From stressful nights of needing your consolidation after that freshman Marie Moreau stole their spotlight in the brawl against Luke, to them having to explain why they had been absent in the relationship so much due to fighting alongside Marie Moreau to uncover the truth of Godolkin University and Vought. You were their patient, loving, caring, person. The only one they could rely on, other than their parents because this necklace was not cheap.

After another make-out session, you found yourself being pounded into by Jordan’s strap missionary style. Missionary was their favorite position, with back-shots and reverse-cowgirl being close seconds due to their infatuation with your ass. They loved to look at your face- gasping for air as you moaned relentlessly when they hit that spot inside you, tearing you apart and leaving you shaking. Your thighs would wrap around them tightly, squeezing their waist and bruising their lower back with the way your heels dug into it. Sometimes they’d lean down far enough, and your fingernails would leave indentations on their shoulders and scratches down their shoulder blades.

Jordan’s the type to talk you through a nut. Asking you whose pussy was this, who did you belong to, who you crave the most, “Who can make you cum like this, baby? Only me, right?” It was their sneaky way of earning your validation and praise. Their dorm is filled with your cries and groans. The bed shook violently with every thrust. They’d fall apart eventually, unable to maintain their composure with the pressure of the strap rubbing their clit through their boxers. Even in their feminine form, Jordan loved the thought of fucking their nut into you. They’d ruthlessly abuse your cervix as they reach their climax, desperately babbling “I’m gonna cum in you” and “I’m gonna fill you up, fuck.”

Despite their sometimes-avoidant personality, they were the perfect after-sex caretaker. They knew they had just spent your body, so they were often the one who cleaned up the scene. They changed you out of your lingerie, which you had on the whole time they fucked you. Panties pulled to the side, breasts popping over the lace and jiggling with every thrust. God, you’re so amazing.

When you’d awaken, you’d find yourself cuddled up next to Jordan, face on one of their bare breasts, keeping the nipple from popping out in its full erectness. You’d giggle and fall right back to sleep, feeling safe in the warmth of Jordan’s bed, Jordan’s clothes, Jordan’s presence.

Your fingers traveled to your neck, thumbing the shiny necklace and tracing the J over and over again.

You were theirs. All theirs.

#gen v #jordan li #smut #18+ content #jordan li smut #gen v fanfiction #jordan li x reader #strappon #wlw

[wonuvs]

hii, i was wondering if you could do ot8 straykids whether they prefer boobs, ass, or thighs ???

<3

ㅤ ♡ ͟ ׂ ㅤ 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖸 𝖪𝖨𝖣𝖲 + 𝖡𝖮𝖮𝖡𝖲, 𝖠𝖲𝖲 𝖮𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖲?

pairing: ot8 skz x afab!reader

genre: smut

note: late, but it's here :3

CHAN.

ass man, with no doubt in my (and everyone else's) mind. i bet all he can think about while getting off on his own is how perfectly your ass jiggles and bounces and swallows his cock. he has entire folders on his phone of exactly that. and when out in public, with friends, or while cuddling or making out on the couch, his hands always somehow fall on your backside. and he loves loves loves it when you decide to wear short shorts or skirts, always takes up the chance to slide his hand under it to knead at your soft skin. (also, bet he'd try to coerce you into starting to go to sleep naked just like he does just so he can freely grope the swell of your ass as you innocently sleep.)

MINHO.

contrary to popular belief, I strongly believe that he's a thigh man. whenever he fucks you from behind, he always comes all over your ass and thighs—because sure, he loves grabbing and slapping butts whenever he can, but thighs really do something to him. while out on walks, or in the comfort of your own apartment, his eyes always fix on the slight jiggle your thighs make with your every step, and his cock can't help but twitch in his pants at the thought of him fucking them right there against the kitchen counter and covering them with his hot cum. and if you are at an event with an outfit that shows off your perfect thighs to not only him, but everyone else? be good and let him fuck them in the bathroom, let him stain the fabric so everyone knows whose you are~

CHANGBIN.

ohhh, he's OBSESSED with the softness of your thighs and boobs, finding every excuse to palm and grope them even at the most inappropriate of times. whipping a quick breakfast for him and his members at the dorms just before they have to leave for a schedule? you can bet binnie is already behind you, one hand playing with your nipples and soft skin over your (his) shirt as the other palms your squishy thigh. out with both of your families for dinner at a fancy, busy restaurant? his hand has been toying with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh (and underwear) since you left home, leaving you completely flustered and needy. what can he do, though? he's utterly obsessed with them, with you, and he sometimes even begs you to let him suck on your tiddies until he falls asleep. so so cute :(

HYUNJIN.

boobs. abso-fucking-lutely boobs. unless he himself comes out to say he's not a boob man, i stand by my belief that hyunjin is, in fact, a boob man. like—just the fact that during concerts he's always grabbing and squeezing the chests of the most well endowed members is enough proof that he is one. also, i bet that he slides his hands under his s/o's shirt and holds onto their titties to fall asleep, saying that cupping them in his big hands makes him sleep better and have no nightmares. (he'll also suck boobies for hours on end without ever getting tired of it, but that's a story for another time)

JISUNG.

thighs—they are just so so perfect. your plush skin is the best thing to dig his nails into when you ride him or sit on his face; and he's obsessed with the intimacy of it. of leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over your thighs, sucking lovebite aver lovebite on your squishy skin until no piece of flesh is left unmarked just before ravaging you for hours on end. and even after you fall asleep next to him, both of you exhausted and sweaty from your multiple orgasms, a glance at your thighs as you lay sideways wakes his soft cock right up.

FELIX.

definitely would love to be fucked by a gorgeous set of boobs everyday. he's bewitched by the sight of hardened nipples peeking through sports bras and tight t-shirts, and all he can think about whenever he sees a pair of bouncy ones is how he'd just love to rip that useless piece of cloth to shreds and let his dick be relentlessly fucked by them. only the thought of cumming on them on a daily basis makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

SEUNGMIN.

i don't think he'd have a set preference, but just be slightly more inclined towards boobs and thighs, and i don't really have an explanation for that. he just gives me the vibes of the type of boyfriend that innocently cups your boobs over your shirt as you watch a movie, or places his hand on your thigh during social gatherings. nothing too telling on what might be his favorite part of yours, until you slowly start noticing just how much he enjoys nibbling at your nipples and the skin around it during sex, start noticing the smug look on his face when he realises he can make you come just by nipping and teasing them—and oop, you may have just found out what he prefers between the three.

JEONGIN.

i feel like it's so obvious that he is an ass man? like, i'm sorry, but do y'all not see this man as a spanker? as a meanie that just loves leaving handprint after handprint on his s/o's asscheeks? i just know his hands are always on his s/o's ass whenever they are home alone or with close friends, as well as when they are out and about and he notices a few too many people staring at them, kind of unconsciously doing it whenever he feels a bit territorial—though he quickly forgets about any of that when he feels just how soft and squishy their asscheeks are, no matter what they are wearing. i bet he's also the type to grind against them if his s/o is bent over for some reason. might chuckle and move on with his day, or pick them up and bring them to their bedroom to fuck them from the back, and leave some more dark handprints, senseless. (also loves it when his long cock disappears in between their asscheeks and he has to physically spread them. makes him come so hard)

taglist : @maximumkillshot

#anonymus #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #stray kids #skz hard hours #skz headcanons #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids headcanons #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios

[sanjoongie]

𝔉𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℭ𝔲𝔱𝔢

🤎Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader (f) 🤎Au: Hybrid Au, Bunny! Seonghwa, Wolf! Reader 🤎Trope: Established Relationship 🤎Rating: 18+, MDNI, smut 🤎Word Count: 2,763 🤎Warnings: dom! reader, sub! seonghwa, toy use (squirting dildo), amazon press position, overstimulation, penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie, marking (love bites, hickies), degradation kink, mentions of pegging 🤎Summary: Your boyfriend thinks it's a smart idea to wear fuzzy, cute clothing with you and not trigger you to push him in an amazon press 🤎Dedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii for being beta readers extraordinaire 🤎divider by @cafekitsune

“Careful with a prey boyfriend,” Your friend had sighed in defeat. “They’ll trigger you when you least expect it.”

You had laughed then but you weren’t laughing now.

Seonghwa had slid into your living room on fluffy socks to show off his new outfit. His eyes were lit up with excitement to have some loungewear in the theme of his favorite game. He did the game's dance, chirping to himself, before finally settling down beside you on the couch. 

“I think they’re too small though,” He said with a pout, tugging at the hem of the shorts.

You dug your nails into your legs in an attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts but it wasn’t working. Your inner wolf was howling to pin Seonghwa to the couch and ravage him but now was not the time. Except your eyes kept slipping towards the bronze thighs that were on display and the way that Seonghwa was STILL playing with the shorts.

“Seonghwa,” You growled in warning, biting down on your lip. 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed, one of his floppy ears moving nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” You lied with a strained voice, “You look very cute.”

Seonghwa beamed, turning slightly on the cough, bare knee brushing against you. He bounced and your eyes zeroed in on his soft cock under the lush material. “I knew you’d like--”

Before you could control yourself, you put a hand to Seonghwa’s broad shoulders and pushed him back on the couch. His big eyes looked up at you, part fear and part wonder. It snapped something inside of you. You grabbed two fistfuls of the fluffy shorts, framing his cock. “A little too cute,” You growled again. 

Seonghwa’s eyes began to move back and forth, following the pattern of your tail behind you, almost hypnotized. “Too cute?”

He licked his lips and this time a low growl did escape your lips. “Careful, Bunny, or I might rip you to shreds on this couch.”

Carefully, you eased your grip of one hand, and slowly eased your hand up the plane of his pelvis to his stomach, pushing up the sweater. “I don’t want to get this dirty, I just got it!” Seonghwa had the audacity to whine.

Your hands snapped back to your legs, where you went back to digging them in. “Okay, Bunny.” You reigned in your inner animal, the wolf huntress that simply wished to take what she wanted, and moved to the far side of the couch. 

Seonghwa sat up carefully, eyes trained on your tense form. “Just like that?”

“I refuse to take advantage of you, Seonghwa,” You said tersely, “You’re my boyfriend, not my dinner.”

“Thank you.” Seonghwa shuddered delicately and you had to stand up to halt yourself from launching yourself over at him again. 

Your lust ran through you like little red ants biting at your nerves. It was a double edged sword at this moment. “I’m going to the bedroom,” You proclaimed.

Seonghwa began to protest, plans of you cuddling and playing Animal Crossing dying before his eyes. “But we were going to--”

“Seonghwa, either I attempt to take it down a peg or I peg you, there is no inbetween at the moment,” You snapped. You were at your limit.

Seonghwa’s eyes were round with surprise and his ears moving upward in alert. “P-peg me?!” he stuttered.

You groaned in frustration and stomped to your bedroom, slamming the door in the process. You began to rip your clothes off, your body offended by the covering. You were too hot, and any brush of your clothing stimulated you too much. You needed something inside of you or you were going to die.

Your wolf ear swiveled backwards towards the door, the shuffling of some bunny feet alerting you to Seonghwa’s presence. “Moonlight?” Seonghwa called out cautiously through the wood.

You desperately yanked open your drawer where you kept the condoms and lube. “It’ll only be a bit, Seonghwa, just be patient for me, ‘kay?” You called back. You found your breeding dildo--the wolf cock that had a knot and spurted out fake-cum--and licked your lips in anticipation. 

“But--!” You could practically imagine the dejected way Seonghwa’s ears were lying on his soft hair right now. 

“I have to take care of this, Bun,” You murmured softly, trying to be a good girlfriend. “If I don’t manage this--” Your throat became tight. The last thing you wanted was Seonghwa flinching every time you reached for him. “This is for the best.”

You placed down a towel, filled the dildo, put it down and then lubed up both the dildo and yourself. Your body was extremely wet from even just being in the same breathing air as Seonghwa in his cute outfit but you knew how rough it was to take the dildo, so you prepared anyway. You raised yourself above it and then played the large tip along your outer folds before resolutely sinking down on it. You groaned loudly, finally getting a dick inside of you. “Fuck yes,” You hissed at the intrusion. 

You closed your eyes and images of your panting bunny below you painted the inside of your eyelids. Seonghwa with his pretty ears laid out on the bed, pretty moans falling from his pretty lips; your bunny letting you take whatever you needed from him. You couldn't help but moan his name, playing with your nipples and making you growl in satisfaction.

“That! That’s not fair!” Seonghwa protested through the door. “You’re getting yourself off imagining me?”

Some of your filters had slipped away. “Mmm, I’m gonna ride this cock all night, Bun,” You promised the Seonghwa in your mind. “Gonna make you cum again and again and again until you beg me to stop and then I’m going to go some more.”

Seonghwa opened the door and your eyes opened lazily. If he walked into your bedroom, where you had drawn the line from safe area to dangerous, he was giving up his right to remain your boyfriend and become your prey. “Watch yourself, Bunny,” You warned him.

His eyes traveled over the arch of your body as you took the dildo, your puffy clit that was begging for attention, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust of the wolf dildo inside of you. His nose twitched in indecision. “Moonlight?” he said cautiously. 

“You said no to this already, Bun,” You reminded him, not stopping your pleasure for a moment. 

An unsure pout pulled Seonghwa’s lower lip downwards. Then his eyes saw the knot at the bottom of the dildo and his frown intensified. “You’re using your wolf dildo? But you’re imagining me?”

It wasn’t right for you to provoke him but he had semi-intruded on you, so your wolf unfurled herself. “It’s the only way to satisfy my need right now, Bun.”

Seonghwa pushed up onto the balls of his feet. His eyes moved back and forth, the wheels in his head spinning while he thought. He looked like he was on the cusp of taking back what he said earlier. You slowed the roll of your hips just in case. “Seonghwa?”

“I wanna--” Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip in hesitation, “--I wanna help.”

You studied your boyfriend. His tail was making the jacket part of his loungewear move. His eyes were bright, though, almost curious of what would happen when he stepped into the bedroom, even though you had already warned him. Should you even allow him when you knew the mood you were in?

“I will bite and mark up your inner thighs, little bunny,” You educated him, “I will overstimulate you until tears. I will make you sweaty and dirty and you will not like it.”

Seonghwa’s fuzzy socks rubbed the door jam. “What if I want that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna be a cute little bun for me?”

Seonghwa nodded, eyes big and sparkling. You sighed and pulled yourself off the dildo. “C’mere, pretty.”

Your boyfriend pushed through the invisible barrier of your lair and climbed onto the bed. Your body tensed immediately, ready to pounce but you withheld yourself so that he could settle. You allow yourself to smooth your hand over the back of his neck. Seonghwa turned his head to look up at you, legs tucked under his body. “Why do you call me pretty?”

“Why, Seonghwa,” You can’t help but coo at your bunny boyfriend, “Because you are!”

“Pretty, how?” he persisted.

You push Seonghwa to lay on his back and you settle between his legs. You danced your fingers up his legs, stopping to grip them slightly at the hem of his shorts. “Pretty tan legs that I want to nibble on,” You murmured, leaning down to lick and nip at the sensitive skin. 

You feel your tail move back and forth behind you, happy to hear Seonghwa’s breath hitch at your love bites. You push his shorts up and up, until they’re practically punched up at the end of his legs. Seonghwa continued to spread his thighs for you, his dick getting harder as you got closer to it. 

But you weren’t about to put him out of his misery; you wanted him to be aching for you like you had been for him. So instead, you abandoned his thighs, covered in berry-colored bruises from your nibbles, and slowly unzipped his jacket. The broad expanse of his chest and stomach were now available for you, so you continued your task at hand. You left love bites on his chest and stomach and when you got to his hip bone, Seonghwa was a whiney, moaning mess under you. Sweat beaded his hairline and his lips were begging to be kissed.

The damn fuzzy loungewear of his was still making you feral. That hard body under all that soft material made you want to bend him over and-- “Seonghwa, baby, you trust me, right?”

Seonghwa blinked slowly, almost as if he was attempting to rise for the lust-filled fog of his brain. “Trust you,” He replied.

Your fingers hooked under his shorts and underwear and pulled them off of him. He watched you with those big eyes of his, waiting for you to reveal your plan. You gently but firmly bent him in half, so that his feet were near his head. You grasped Seonghwa’s cock and gave it a few pumps, making him moan for you. You pulled his dick upwards so that it came up through his bent legs. Then you stood over Seonghwa’s bent body and took him inside of you. 

“Moonlight!” Seonghwa cried out for you, enveloped in your tight, wet heat.

Since you were already stretched out from your dildo, it was easy to set a grueling pace to fuck your bunny boyfriend. His ears laid against his head, showing how content and comfortable he was with you right now. He may be a prey animal but he was enjoying being submissive to you--and that was exactly what you needed.

“Feel good, Bun?” You ask Seonghwa as you push a little hard on his calves to keep him bent in half.

“Gonna cum! Gonna cum inside of you, gonna--!” You pull off of him suddenly and he cries out at the loss of your pussy. 

“Did I say you could cum?” You demanded.

“P-please,” Seonghwa begged, “Please, it felt so good, please, want you to fuck me like that in my pretty new clothes, please!”

You tilted your head, “You know you have to ask before, Seonghwa.” You shake your head like you’re disappointed in him. 

“I’m!!” Seonghwa’s eyes tear up and they run down the side of his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Are you sure? I can always go back to the dildo. It knew better than to come before me,” You threatened.

Seonghwa shook his head, some strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Please, can you fuck me? Please, can I cum inside of you? Please?” With a trembling lip, he said, “Please, your bunny wants to cum.”

You sighed in defeat and cupped his face, rubbing his tear-streaked face with the back and forth of your thumb. “You gonna be a good Bun, now? Are you going to let me use your cock properly and then we can cuddle and game?”

Seonghwa nodded, sniffling quietly. “I'll be a good bun.”

You slipped Seonghwa back inside of you and his head tipped back with the pleasure of it all. You admired the line of his neck and the sharpness of his jaw for a moment before setting another demanding pace. Seonghwa’s legs start to curl around your body, wanting more but you push them apart so you can keep control.

“Please, I can cum right? I can cum and fill you and you can use me until you cum too. Please, I'm a good bunny, let me cum!” Seonghwa begged so pretty for you, how could you deny him?

Seonghwa came with a great cry, desperate and needy and just the way you like it. You slowed down your pace, coaxing him through his orgasm. His seed leaked out of you as you continued to move above him. Quickly, Seonghwa goes from blissed out to whiney. “Too much,” he whimpered, squirming under you.

“You can take it, little bunny,” You cooed at him. “You want me to cum too, don't you?”

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped open, watery but pleading. “Use me,” he said.

You adjusted your position, letting Seonghwa’s legs fall back a bit but still spread. Instead of bouncing on him, you snap your hips forward, and it's almost an imitation of you fucking him, only he's still the one inside of you. Seonghwa is a bunny hybrid after all, he could actually go all day and all night if need be.

“You're so fucking cute like this, Seonghwa,” You waxed poetic for him. “In your cute little fuzzy jacket.” You pulled the zippered sides snugger to Seonghwa’s body. “Don't know how you thought you could just bounce around like a happy bunny, waving your soft cock in my face and not get fucked, but here we are.” 

“I just--hhnnffff--wanted to be cute for you!” Seonghwa managed to somehow reply back to you.

“Well, that cute little cock of yours is about to give me some much needed relief, Bunny,” You couldn't help but grin.

“I can--” Seonghwa swallowed loudly, barely containing a whine. “--can I cum again?”

“Fuck no,” You denied him. “I'm gonna cum, clenching around your cock and then you're gonna sit in your cute fuzzy shorts with your painfully hard dick and I'll cuddle you.”

Seonghwa whined and pouted and closed his eyes tight, trying his hardest to not cum so that you could take what you needed from him. Your soft cries became a crescendo as you searched out your high. It took you, searing through your body like lightning struck and you shouted his name. You rolled your body against Seonghwa’s, allowing your pussy walls to convulse around Seonghwa’s cock. 

When you opened your eyes, Seonghwa’s teeth were digging in his lower lip, drawing slight blood from his effort to not come from your tight heat looking to milk him for a second time. You leaned over and bestowed him a kiss, in thanks for him being a good bunny for you. You rested your soft body against his hard one. “Thank you, Bunny” You murmured against his lips as you smooched him in a softer moment.

Seonghwa had tears in the corners of his eyes but he smiled so happily for you. “I did it.”

You couldn't help but laugh in response. “You did well, Seonghwa.”

You looked at you, unsure and hopeful. “Do I still…?”

You hummed in confirmation. You pulled Seonghwa out of you, who was still hard. His dick looked so pretty covered in his cum. “You know you love the feeling of being a dirty boy,” You teased him.

Seonghwa endured putting back on his underwear and shorts, zipped up his jacket and padded back to the couch. His ears were flopped forward, framing his face, doing his best to look heartbroken, hoping you’d take pity on him. But watching him shuffle in his fuzzy clothes, the sharp lines of his body and his dick imprint pressed up against his shorts was recalling the beast you thought you had soothed earlier. If you were going to suffer, so was he.

You picked up his switch and offered it to him. “Load up your village, Bun. We’ve got some cuddling to do.”

Tagged: @hijirikaww @starlitmark @k-pop-ology

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez smut #atz smut #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #hybrid!ateez #don't look at me don't touch me i'm not here you didn't see this #topaz's work #ღatz

[hanasnx]

nose-riding.

MINORS DNI 18+

"Don't get shy on me now," HAN SOLO chides, those big hands clamped on your thighs to make sure you stay pinned where you belong. Your hesitance is demonstrated through the tremble in your legs, wrestling with the instinct to hover over his mouth while his strength overpowers you, muscling you into your seat. “the fuck are you going?”

“Han, give me a second.” you plea through a whimper, but he yanks you down, his lips kissing the ones between your legs as the roughness of his shaved face scrape your soft tissue.

“Mm-mm,” he denies, muffled by your flesh as his mouths your folds, enveloping them in wet warmth that makes your eyes flutter. Thick arms lock around your thighs, cords of muscle swollen atop your lap, taking advantage of your position to jostle you gently over him. A rhythm is set, one your body adapts to within seconds, obeying his silent command to grind. The new sensation that comes with wetting his entire face with your slick tightens your grip on the headboard, releasing a burst of air in a gasp as you chase that growing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Encouraging groans sound underneath you, seemingly enjoying this just as much as you, heightening in volume as your enthusiasm becomes clearer.

Juices drip down his chin and the sides of his face as you ride it, listening to the sounds of sex fill the room as he continues to liven your efforts with his flexing biceps, rocking you on him with fervor that you meet with eager cooperation. He ducks his head, straining his neck from the weight of a body on it, but he ignores the pain, reaching his tongue to circle your hole, shoving it in. A sharp keen is drawn from you, one so vulnerable it rips you out of the trance. Another wave of heat is swift to bloom on your cheeks, and briefly you slow to cover your mouth in embarrassment. It's reprimanded as quickly as it occurred, Han's massive hand swatting the fat of your ass to imprint the colored shape of his scold. You yelp, jumping forward that brushes your clit against the tip of his nose.

The feeling introduced to you shoots electricity up your spine, and you follow it. You aim your hips just as he angles his head, reading your mind. He nuzzles your bud, puffy from stimulation, as his tongue traces the outline of your sex. One of those powerful and low moans of his, vibrating you, is enough to corral you to the edge. Your hips quicken, grinding down, desiring more and more pressure as your swirl your clit around his nose. You can feel him surge as he tugs you down—it's a wonder how he's not suffocating yet—desperate lips latching onto your delicate tissues, swiping side to side on your sex, painting himself with your new layer of cream. One hand releases the headboard to fist his hair to which he groans obscenely about. Your fist tightens, digging him into your hungry sex, letting him devour you as you direct him.

Since you're going at it on your own, he unlocks you, those callused hands running up your body, molding your pretty flesh in his grasp as he wanders your torso and chest. He gives your tits a hearty squeeze, pinching your nips between his thick fingers, before running down your back so he can get at your ass, groping you.

"Just like that, Han, almost there, just like that," you whisper, winded from effort, riding his face without a shred of inhibition. Your clit swipes across the bridge of his nose, hitting the bone, and your cry out as the coil snaps. Sweet juices flood, pouring out of you, drowning Han just like he wanted. Arms wrap around your hips, keeping you moving while your orgasm takes you over, squeezing your eyes shut as your body locks up like its got a mind of its own. He's not gonna let you chicken out, forcing you to keep grinding, overstimulating your abused clit. Even your fist banging haphazardly against the headboard, nails of your other hand digging into his scalp doesn't deter him. Choked noises of pain and pleasure release from deep within your gut, and the violent spurts of your pussy gradually slow to a stop. Your hole flutters, and carefully he lifts your leg for you, pushing you to lean to one side so he can extract himself. He envelopes you in his arms, tucking you into his chest as you breathe hard.

#indy: drabbles #ch: han #han solo drabble #han solo smut #han solo x reader #han solo x fem reader #han solo x you #han solo x y/n #han solo imagine #han solo fic #han solo fanfic #han solo fanfiction #han smut #han x reader #han x you #han solo x reader smut #han x you smut #han x reader smut #han solo x you smut #star wars smut #star wars x reader #reader insert

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Ten)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Fluff and bonding, Monster/human relationship, Miguel is rutting, Reader goes into heat, Rough PinV sex, Spontaneous outdoor sex, Slight voyuerism/exhibitionism, Mouth covering, Rough biting, Creampie & web sealing, Little bit of angst at the end? CW: Mentions of & brief depiction of deer hunting.

Word count: 6060

One Week Later

‘Are you ready, arañita?’

Miguel’s voice drifted up and into the nest, turning your head towards the entrance. You were halfway through getting dressed and the distraction nearly toppled you to the floor.

‘AH- Yeah! Yeah, I’m- almost ready! Just a minute!’

You struggled into your new outfit; a suit made entirely of silk which Miguel had painstakingly crafted for you. It was super soft and strangely warm, but it clung to the contours of your body a little more than you’d have liked. You kept wondering if Miguel had consciously or perhaps unconsciously made it so form-fitting. After all, this was your third suit of its kind, as he’d ripped the other two to shreds during extremely passionate and wet sex.

You felt your face grow warm at the memory and physically shook it away. No, no time for that. If you slipped back into the heat again you’d never get to go on the trip, and you were excited to go.

As you rose to your feet you took a moment to admire how the nest was coming along. The first thing you’d done was make it homely by adding a window and doors, with the entrance now covered by a crude cut oaken circle that swung outward on a hinge and the walls now adorned with little wooden shuttered holes.

You admired the half-made fireplace in the centre of the room, next to the DIY wooden table and the slowly burgeoning food prep area, before turning to the bed.

The mattress was completely drowning in silken blankets and silken pillows, and the floor beside it was now adorned with the pelt of a stag he’d killed. You knew autumn was approaching and it would only get colder, hence the focus on conserving heat, and while you didn’t want to jinx the relationship you enjoyed planning for the future.

You did feel a little bad since almost all these changes were only for your benefit. You had to preserve heat in this empty forest, but Miguel with his soft fluffy abdomen could remain shirtless all year round.

Your eyes softened affectionately at just the thought. Such a beautiful creature. He was a sight to behold when he stepped out into the cold dawn, where the heat of his muscles created a misty sheen of steam and his white breath curling around his fangs.

‘Arañita!’

You jumped in place as Miguel’s voice echoed from below for a second time. Shit, you’d been daydreaming about him so much you’d forgotten to go down. With fumbling hands you grabbed your bag and rushed out the open door.

‘COMING!’

Where once there was only a short sticky rope to descend from his home there was now a generous ladder, allowing you to easily clamber down to the floor.

Miguel was waiting, patient as ever, his legs gently tapping on the dirt as you approached.

‘Alright! I’m here, sorry. Had some- difficulty with the suit’ you called.

‘Ah, arañita. There you are.’ The joy that lit up his face every time he saw you never failed to make your legs weak.

‘Yep! Here I am.’

‘You look wonderful in that suit, by the way’ he noted as you rushed to his side. You took the time to scoff as you grabbed handfuls of his fur, using it as leverage to drag your body onto his back. His fluff was soft where it brushed your skin, and he smelled like grass dew and wet hair.

‘Oh my god- I knew it, you designed the suit to be too tight on me, didn’t you?’

‘I- well, yes. Is that an issue? Is it uncomfortable?’

You landed on his abdomen with an ‘oomph’ and shuffled forward, settling on his back like a great horse. Your hands wrapped themselves tight around his broad waist.

‘No, but- come on. Little bit pervy.’

‘I thought that was the nature of our relationship’ he argued. He tried desperately to catch your eye but in doing so began spinning in little circles, chasing his back as you continuously ducked out of the way. You took great pleasure in making him spin. ‘I like to look at you, yes. I get great physical joy from admiring your form. You are my mate. I thought this was normal. Is that not normal?’

‘Oh my god Mig—alright, come on! No more wasting daylight hours! Go! Go! Git!’

You gently and playfully kicked his side, urging him onward like a horse, but a firm glare from his bloody red eyes quickly brought you down into an apologetic cower.

‘Sorry! Sorry, uh- shall we, shall we go, darling? At your own discretion?’

He gave a curt nod and began strolling upward into the forest.

Today, he was finally taking you hunting.

The woods, once terrifying and unknowable to you, were slowly becoming a comforting norm. You gazed up at the dizzyingly high pines as Miguel walked upward to where the trees grew sparse and wide.

The early morning daylight trickled down in thin rays, their glow highlighting the tiny specks of dust and flitting little bugs as they passed you by.

This place felt old, untouched. It was cool beneath the heavy canopy above. You could hear nothing but the distant chirps of birds and the occasional creaking of an old tree. As you passed beneath those silent giants you clutched Miguel a little tighter.

‘You were talking in your sleep last night’ you whispered. Mig jumped. You’d been walking for almost ten minutes now in abject silence, so your voice was a surprise.

‘Ah- what was that, mi tesoro?’ he whispered back once he’d regained his composure. You bit down the urge to giggle.

‘Oh, sorry, um- you were talking in your sleep last night. That’s all I said.’

‘I was?’

‘Mhm. It’s very cute. You kept kicking your legs, kicking them and grunting, then you said something like don’t run so fast little one or wait for me and um- I think then you just kinda settled and went back to sleep. Like I said, very cute.’

Miguel rolled his shoulders as he continued strolling onward. You couldn’t tell from here what he was thinking.

‘Mm. I don’t- remember my dreams anymore, but, I know that they’re vivid. I remember the feelings but not the events. So- huh. I wonder what I dreamed about?’

‘I should stay up and keep an eye on you, try and sus it out’ you teased. He managed a breathy little snort of a laugh in response.

‘Ah, I’m not sure about that. What if I say something in my dreams that I shouldn’t?’

‘Oh, pft- like what? You gonna say someone else’s name? you don’t know anyone else, well except Miguel maybe, and if you said his name my first thought wouldn’t be that.’

‘I could still- imply something embarrassing’ he said with a shrug. You’d broached the top of the hills by this point and behind you the view was extraordinary, with small windows in the canopy giving you a perfect view of the city in the distance. Mig paused to turn and look at it with you mid conversation.

‘I could- I don’t know, admit some, sexual fetish I hadn’t even realized yet, some- deep interest in the back of my mind.’

You sighed as you rested on his bicep. With your arms still tight around his waist you gave him an affirming little squeeze. ‘You idiot’ you teasingly chided, ‘you admit everything to me anyway. This morning you immediately confessed that you designed my clothes for your own delight, and- wait, yeah, literally the FIRST day you started rutting you sat me down and told me in great detail your sexual fantasy. You are too honest to be worried about this.’

Another guttural choke escaped his throat, his strange little laugh that now filled you with joy to hear. ‘You are right, as always, my tesoro. I suppose it’s just my anxiety. I- suppose I’m just not used to anyone else being around when I sleep. It’s strangely vulnerable, no?’

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s weird, but, It’s nice though, right?’

You felt his fur bristle beneath you, the strands brushing your leg. Oh, you thought, that meant he was upset about something, right? But, why?

‘Is it?’ he murmured.

You turned and leaned around his torso to try and see his face more clearly, but right as you did so he turned himself and began walking deeper.

‘Hey, is something up?’ you gently pushed.

‘Ah, it… Sometimes- you pull away, at night, when we’re… cuddling.’ The way his voice dipped on the word cuddling, like he was embarrassed to be saying it in front of you. God, he was so sweet. ‘You shuffle away and I wake up without you. I- was worried you were uncomfortable with me.’

‘Oh, I love cuddling Mig! But doesn’t it bother you when you’re trying to sleep? I keep waking myself up because when I roll in my sleep you’re there and I keep thinking I’ll wake you up too.’

He let out a soft ‘humpf’ sound in response, clearly surprised by your response. ‘Ah- I don’t believe so. I haven’t slept any worse since you arrived, except, occasionally waking to check you’re okay.’

‘Oh. Huh. Well, you are… Big? I suppose is the best word? Big ol’ guy, you probably don’t feel me as much. But, like I was saying, I’m just not used to feeling something beside me when I sleep. I’m adjusting my brain to it, that’s all. it doesn’t mean I dislike you or dislike cuddling. We’re just uh- finding boundaries, now we live together.’

He seemed to perk up at the reminder that you were, technically, living together. Living together as partners, a concept he thought he would only ever dream out. He did a little rustle before bounding through the trees.

‘Alright, well, we’re almost there. Let me get you something to eat, mi arañita’

True to his word Mig became utterly focused on the hunt from that point onward.

He bayed you to settle down in the roots of a tree while he got into position, somewhere far enough to dampen your scent but close enough that you could see. He seemed desperate to have you witness him being productive, and you were curious enough to go along with his whims.

In this part of the forest the trees were sparser, allowing more vegetation to cover the dry earth. Miguel had said this gave him more cover for ambush, but you were still stumped as to how this giant man was supposed to hide himself even in the thickest growth. Even when pressed to the floor he was huge, as wide as he was long, covered in bright red and black fur.

Surely a deer would see that, right? Curiosity got the better of you, and you settled down in the roots to watch.

Mig started by feeling the vibrations in the dirt. He tapped at the floor, shuffling back and forth as he listened for something far beyond the scope of your own senses. You saw his eyes widen a few times, indicating that he’d felt something in the distance, and once he seemed sure he began the next unusual stage of this dance.

He dug. He dug into the earth with his enormous legs, filling out a small burrow in which his body could just about fit. He used his legs to drag foliage over his head, masking his scent and his body, until even you could barely see him at all.

And there, he waited. He waited, and waited, as clouds came to cover the sun. He waited in the gloom while you picked at your nails, waiting with a patience that frankly scared you to your core, until you both heard it.

A snap. A twig breaking.

A stag had entered the woods. Immediately you shuffled downward, lying as still as possible in the roots. Mig didn’t move an inch.

The stag was sniffing at the ground as it approached. You were certain that it would smell the enormous spider lying in wait, but somehow it just kept drifting closer and closer. You could see its head dipping to push through the grass, its snout flexing and snorting. Its breath condensed hard in the cool air.

Every muscle in your body tensed. You watched, your heart racing, as the stag went to sniff right over Migs head.

CRACK.

You jumped in your skin as he pounced.

It was terrifying. It was pure, primal, a spectacle of undiluted power. He moved with a speed that seemed impossible for something of his size, so large and yet so nimble, as his legs propelled him out of the dirt and onto the beast. It tried to run but his claws caught its neck.

With the sheer weight of his body he brought the bleating giant down. You saw a flash of his eyes, blood red with a single white pupil, right before he clamped his jaws on its neck.

It was over in seconds. The moment the deer stopped moving you scrambled out of the roots to join him.

‘Holy- shit, you’re so fast!’

Mig unclamped the catch with a soft grunt. You could see the blood on his jaw and neck which he immediately smeared with the back of his hand before facing you. He had such a strangely shy smile on his face.

‘Oh- you saw! You saw it. What did you think?’

‘It was… terrifying! Wow! You are- so, strong!’ you said with an awkward laugh. You left out how weirdly enjoyable it was to see him at full strength, to have witnessed the power and carnage he was capable of.

His grin widened as he took your comment at face value. ‘Thank you, arañita. That- makes me happy. I like showing you that I can be of use.’

‘Oh, Mig you idiot.’

You leaned in and affectionately touched his hair, gently brushing back the thick curls. He almost purred at the touch. ‘Now- jesus, let’s get you cleaned up and get home.’

You used a strip of silk from your back to try and clear his face, though he kept nestling into your hand which made it difficult to finish. Something about hunting for you seemed to make him especially soft. He would tap his feet for attention and rustle against you, and you would tut at him while secretly enjoying his touch.

That peaceful downtime did not last long though. As you were brushing yourself down, preparing to head back down, you noticed that Mig had stopped pacing. When you turned to check on him his eyes were wide.

‘Mig?’ you said softly. He didn’t move. You watched with ever growing curiosity as he began to dart his gaze across the forest line, almost as if he was looking for something. You followed his line of sight but could see nothing yourself.

It was only then, on the cusp of your lips parting to question Mig on what he was doing, that your senses picked up the same thing he had.

Your eyes locked in a moment of shared terror.

Footsteps. Distant footsteps, growing closer with every step. Idle chit chat that echoed in the trees, something about being lost and forgetting the map. You sensed a flask on an overstuffed backpack slowly clinking against a metal keychain.

‘Hikers’ you hissed. Mig gave a silent nod.

No, no, no. This was bad, you thought. What were people doing this far out? Why today of all days?

You didn’t want to risk a run in with civilians. You knew Mig was safe, but you also remembered how you’d acted the first time you saw him, and more importantly you remembered his distress at being seen.

Without another word you jumped into action, hopping his back in one fell swoop while he grabbed the kill by the nape of its hide. He lifted it as easily as a cat carrying a kitten, a feat you barely had time to appreciate, as he broke into a canter the moment you were mounted.

In silence you hurried back down the way you’d come.

For about half the way down it seemed to be smooth sailing. Mig made easy progress through the woods, his eight legs silently tapping back and forth on the mulchy earth as you descended to home. Your senses could feel the hikers getting further and further away.

In no time at all you saw the glade appear at the bottom of the hill, a tiny little circle in a sea of evergreen pines slowly sinking downward. You let out a contented sigh.

But then you felt it.

You felt It.

That foreboding tug in your gut. The gentle throbbing that sank down through your insides, the pulsing of blood as your heart sped up. The yearning, the need, the subconscious addictive pleading for satisfaction.

No, no, no, NO. You couldn’t stop here, right? The hikers weren’t far enough away yet.

You shuffled, trying to secretly suppress it, when Miguel abrupted stumbled to a halt himself. You heard him drop the stag with a thump.

Shit. You could smell it. It was heavy in the air, a smell you couldn’t describe with words but which you felt in your loins. He was rutting too.

Your eyes rolled. Oh that smell, it gave you goosebumps. That smell alone dragged you to him like a magnetic force.

‘Arañita?’

His words were soft as he spoke. Those were dangerous words, hungry words.

‘Mig?’

You felt so small on his back as his shoulders arched. You had to tilt your head to see his face, to see the bright glow of his eyes as his head instinctively tilted sideways. You balked. Those eyes were fucking starving.

‘Mig’ you breathed.

His abdomen vibrated softly, rustling against your skin in a way that sent pleasurable shivers through your thighs and spine. You shuddered against him. ‘Mig, don’t—careful—’

He breathed out hard, his breath condensing in the air. ‘Ah… Arañita …’

It curled like smoke around his bloody maw. His full lips parted and he breathed in through the mouth, releasing a dark and foreboding growl. ‘Ah…’

‘Mig—we need to get back—’

He was breathing heavier now. You could see his enormous spider legs quivering as he fought the urge slowly infecting his mind. The urge to pin, to fill, to penetrate, to feel. The urge to claim. The urge to see your pretty form, naked and sweating and shaking as you struggled to take him, as you were fucked to the brim with his very being.

When he huffed smoke for a second time a breathy moan escaped his throat. It was a mating call, plain and simple, echoing through the trees.

‘Mig… Mig…’

It was pitiful; your pleading had gone from genuine concern to depraved praise as you whispered his name over and over again. While you pleaded Mig struggled to focus on his senses. His body was begging, screaming even, to take you now, but he could just feel the hikers still approaching their location.

‘We need- to get back- to the nest’ he panted. You didn’t even respond.

At this point you were broken, involuntarily grinding your hips into his fur for any semblance of relief. Your body was burning to the point that sweat was sticking your suit to the contours of your skin, highlighting every little dip and curve.

‘Miggy—’

‘Arañita!’

His bark of an order made you mewl.

‘We need- to get back—’

‘O-Okay’ you whined. Slowly, painfully, Miguel began to continue his walk down the hillside towards the glade.

It was agony. You’d gotten so used to instant gratification that pushing through the need was now hellish, especially combined with the need to run.

It was an itchy heat, a prickling heat, and as your blood began to pump you felt your insides begin to pulsate. Throb after throb, each harder than the last, as every muscle inside you twitched and tensed around a cock that wasn’t there.

You could feel his body beneath you. You could sense him, feel him in every part of your body. All you could think about was feeling more, tasting more, as that desperate curdling need to feel his cock inside you flooded all of your senses. It was physically unbearable.

‘Don’t’ your mind screamed as you pulled at his fur.

‘Don’t do it’ his mind pleaded as he forced himself forward.

But you were no match for each other’s potent smell. No risk, not even death, felt important compared to that burning ache.

You collapsed from his body and into the dirt with a low moan, unable to maintain yourself any longer. Miguel descended on you in seconds.

You squeaked and squirmed as he gripped you in his claws. He pounced like you were prey. He flipped and thrust your body down onto its back, his gruff hands immediately pinning your arms to the floor. The frail little bones in your wrists screamed out at the pressure.

‘Mig!’

He hissed and flexed his teeth on your neck, hot breath cascading over your skin as the smell of musky hormones and blood filled your nose.

‘I can’t- wait—’ he panted. You could already feel his abdomen rubbing and grinding on you, his slit unable to contain his erection any longer. You could feel the thick, warm shaft smearing your new suit with his thick, pearly pre-cum. ‘I need- you, please- I need it- it hurts—’

You knew it was dangerous, but your brain was a melted pot of red hot lust. You couldn’t fight it anymore. With a soft whine you lay back and turned your head to the side, frantically nodding for him to continue.

‘Okay, fuck—I can’t wait, fuck—just, be quick, please’ you panted.

He didn’t even bother to fully undress you. With a hiss he bent and ripped a hole in your suit with his mouth, a dangerous tactic as his teeth brushed your pussy lips as he tore the silk aside. He took one deep sniff of your pheremones before physically dragging your body into position.

He forced your legs into a mating press, his hefty torso straining the muscles in your thighs to bend to his will. He rustled slightly as he pushed into position, roughly edging his bulbous member against your slit, and as you felt the first inch spreading you open you knew it was over.

‘Okay, okay’ he panted, ‘shh- sh, stay still for me arañita, let me just—fill you—’

He thrust, hard, and with one excruciatingly tight stretch he was inside you again.

‘M-MM--!’ Your hips bucked and tensed, rocking from side to side as you struggled to adjust. Miguel gasped like he’d just avoided drowning.

‘Ah—ahh—that’s it, that’s it. I’ll be- quick, just- stay still, mi tesoro, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

The moment he entered you he started to frantically rut to completion, his abdomen jerking back and forth as he fucked you into the dirt. Your fingers dug into his arms.

‘MM--!’ It was painful to hold back your screams. You had to bite your tongue until it bled, until the taste of iron filled your mouth and nose, all in a vain attempt to not be caught. He was so fucking rough.

‘Sweet little spider’ he whined. You felt him thrust a little deeper and squirmed with joy at the familiar mixture of ache and pleasure.

‘It’s… ‘S so good’ you whispered in a needy, whiney breath. ‘So—good…’

Desperate now to finish quickly, Miguel angled himself a little further back. He needed the one thing that he couldn’t resist, his most primal indulgence. He wanted to see it. Your small, soft, sweet human body, perfectly impaled on his enormous shaft. The sight sent full body shivers through his spine.

‘So… tight…’

He looked utterly pussy drunk, mesmerised almost. He watched your slick coat his cock as he drew back, those translucent sticky strings hanging between his abdominal fur and your pretty little slit. They made his black veins glisten as they pulsed against your swollen cunt.

‘Mi… aranita…’

He stared, unblinking, as he moved his hand and began touching the spot where he’d entered you. He brushed his thumb down and across your swollen clit, those wet and messy folds, until it came to rest where his shaft was splitting you open. He watched you swallow him whole.

‘Pretty, pretty little spider’ he whispered. ‘F-fuck…’  

He watched your hips jolt as he gave a few short pumps about halfway in, fixated on the way you stretched and wriggled with pleasure. His previous seed was now oozing out at the sides as he pumped in and out, just adding to the absolute mess you were making.

‘So, so… pretty…’

You felt his claws suddenly hit your neck, pressing you down until you were forced to be still. He continued to watch with wide and unblinking eyes as his thick rod squished back and forth, back and forth, filling you until you bulged before slowly slipping out with a wet pop.

‘Mm- mm—’

He was grunting hard as he moved.

‘So, fucking, pretty—’

‘Is it this way?’

Your whole body went rigid at the sound of unfamiliar voices, but you didn’t even have time to process your shock, because Miguel didn’t stop.

Even as the voices got louder he continued rutting you into the floor, his breathy grunts just barely audible in the rustling undergrowth.

You silently slapped at his arm but he couldn’t bring himself to pause. He impulsively clamped his hand over your mouth, his eyes deadly and starved as they stared down at your panicked expression.

‘Stay. Quiet’ he mouthed. Despite your fear, you were just as needy. You let him have you.

He bent your legs into your ribs just to slip deeper, his thick shaft eagerly kissing and smearing your cervix with pre-cum. Your breath was hot on his calloused hand as it muffled your desperate moans.

Despite his rational mind knowing that he needed to be quiet, Mig’s carnal desperation was driving him towards risky behaviour. You could hear the clap of his skin between your thighs echo with each wet pop as he pushed in and out, a symphony just as terrifying as it was erotic.

You watched him savor the feel of your body. You watched him as he experienced you.

‘Ah—ahh—ah—’

He flexed his jaw until it hurt trying to suppress his cries of pleasure, and in a second moment of impulse he bent down and sank his fangs into your shoulder. Your squeaks were silenced.

Now clamped by the terrifying power of his maw you were utterly surrendered. You could feel his teeth moving in tandem with his cock, filling and shifting inside you, flooding you with that same potent mixture of pain and pleasure.

You raked your fingers down his back, drawing red lines into his rough scarred skin. He dug his claws into the dirt.

The footsteps got closer, but there was no breaking free. You were trapped together. With a muffled grunt Miguel sped up to completion.

‘MMFF—’

He came inside you silently, with all his gutteral noises muffled by your skin. You felt it all the same. The heavy spurts, the hot seed flooding in and squirting against his soft underside when your cunt ran out of room. You were filled until you bulged.

In the high of that release you were nearly dizzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hormones overpowered any rational fear about being seen. All you could do was lull and whine, relishing the sweet gratification of being filled again.

‘Mig’ you whispered. ‘My Mig. You—’

Snap.

Your eyes shot open.

You tilted your head, slowly, just enough for your eyes to roll and spy the woods behind you. Two hikers were frozen in place, their bodies just barely obscured by the trunk of a pine.

They were staring at you. You, your body pinned beneath the torso of your half spider mate, still fully impaled on his monstrous cock, with your head in his neck and your flesh in his maw.

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. To say you were mortified was an understandment, it felt like your heart might give out. You felt Miguel’s breath steaming against your shoulder as he panted into it. Did he know? Had he realized?

You opened your mouth but no sound spare a painful squeak escaped. Your brain was utterly fried.

The one to break the tension then was Mig, who decided to release your shoulder and stare directly at the two strangers. Mouth bloodied, eyes red, his naked body straining and panting for air.

Their reaction was swift.

‘FUCK!’

The two hikers almost fell over each other as they ran, both frantically fleeing for their lives into the overgrown brush.

‘JESUS- CHRIST, WHAT WAS THAT?!’

‘WAS IT EATING THEM?!’

‘F-Fuck, FUCK! I DON’T KNOW JUST- GO!’

‘We have to call for help—’

‘JUST RUN JUST- FUCKING RUN!!’

As the screams grew distant, you felt Miguel slowly pull out. His hands were quick to plug you up and carefully stitch your suit back together at the crotch, but you were too exhausted to move.

‘Shhiittt.’

It was the only thing you could think to say as you lay back in the mud, your head still a little woozy from the whole experience. Mig just grunted.

‘Shit, shit, shit. Ah…. I’m- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s fine. I- fuck, are you okay Mig?’

He grunted again as he lifted you up into his arms. His spider legs hooked the stag’s carcass and carefully manoeuvred it onto his back, allowing him to begin the short final trek back to the clearing with you still in his arms. The longer he went without saying a word, the more you began to worry.

‘Mig?’

You patted his cheek as he walked, trying in vain to get his attention. His only response was to sigh.

‘It’s okay’ you said, your voice now rather timid. ‘It’s fine, they- we probably won’t ever see them again. And hey, we didn't have to fight them! That's good, right? They just- left.’

‘It’s not that.’

You were surprised when words finally left his mouth, especially when they were delivered so sadly. He was blunt, yes, but not usually this melancholy, especially after sex.

‘What is it then?’ you asked. It took him a few more seconds to reply.

‘They thought… I was eating you’ he murmured. ‘If I’d been anyone else, they wouldn’t have screamed. We would have been- yelled at, perhaps, or chastised for being perverts. Maybe they’d have just, awkwardly moved away. But they would never have assumed I was eating you.’

The sombre reality sank in slowly. Somehow, you’d both forgotten the reality of what this was. What he was. You tried to shrug it off. ‘Wait, that’s what you’re worried about? I mean… If you were just, purely human, they might have still assumed you were murdering me. People can do murder too yanno.’

He managed a small, throaty chuckle at your light teasing, but it was strained. He looked distant, distracted, alone in his own mind. You gently shook his arm to drag him back down to reality.

‘Hey. It’s fine. You’re fine’ you repeated.

‘Does it not, bother you? The way they reacted?’

‘Mig I would have been mortified to be caught like that whether you were fully human or not’ you scoffed. He seemed unconvinced.

‘If they’d- seen us, holding hands’ he said, slowly musing over the theoretical aloud, ‘if they’d seen us… kissing, or even just sitting together, they would have run. They would still be terrified.’

It was hard to maintain a smile in the face of his dour prediction. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to simmer in that pool of despair, and you didn’t want him to wallow in it either.

‘People- when they see something they don’t understand, they, react like animals. Sometimes they run, sometimes they fight. They squash it so you don’t have to think about it. It’s easier.’

That morbid thought made him wince, but you refused to let go. You leaned in and tilted his head back towards you.  

‘And it’s horrible. It’s horrible, and it hurts, but then there’s other people. Other people, who- know what it’s like, to be the- scared little spider on the wall. And they know, Mig. They knew. I know. And I’m not scared of you.’

To your joy he managed to shoot you a ghost of a smile, just the barest tilting of his lips. It was enough for you, even if you’d only managed to distract him for a bit.

‘Besides, who do we have to disappoint?’ you said in an attempt to lighten to mood. ‘I don’t have friends to introduce you too, or family, or co-workers. You’re alone. We don’t need to worry about what people think.’

‘You say that now, arañita, but… I don’t know, I don’t feel like that will remain true forever. I also don’t appreciate you indulging my possessive nature.’

‘Awh, what? How, what did I do?’

‘Implying we’re all we’ve got’ he said softly. ‘It makes me- happy, but on some level, I know it shouldn’t.’

‘Well, hey! You know it shouldn’t, so- you know, that’s a start.’

Mig ducked his head beneath a row of branches as he re-entered the clearing. In the clear, bright light of the burgeoning sun he looked glorious.

‘Yes, but—I also know that I willingly ignore that fact and, pretend it is acceptable’ he confessed with a slight shrug. ‘Because- well, it comforts me, especially when I’m reminded that we are… different, to put it nicely.’

‘Well, as long as you’re not getting feisty, huh? I’ll just be sure to let you know if it ever gets annoying’ you offered. You pressed your face against his pec, right over his heart, and tapped it like you were making a promise. He gave you that sweet little ghost of a smile.

‘Very well, mi tesoro. I will hold you to that.’

You allowed Mig to drop the kill near the base of the nest before climbing back in with you still in his arms. You lulled a little in the sudden warmth, placated by the warm orange rays of sunlight warming the floor, and the moment he slid you onto the bed you collapsed into it.

‘Mmm… Yanno, that was the first time we were under such pressure from the heat that you didn’t make me orgasm’ you noted with a yawn. It was more a dry observation than a real problem you had, but it immediately caused Mig to bristle in horror.

‘I- oh, no you’re right. You poor little spider.’

‘It’s okay! I don’t blame you, it—HEY!’

You squealed with delight as he dove onto the mattress, his weight flinging your body a few feet into the air before landing back into his already outstretched arms.

‘Let me fix that’ he purred, his breath brushing your ear. ‘Please, mi aranita, let me taste you again.’

With an eager grunt his lips met yours, his abdomen rustling with excitement as his tongue went down your throat. You were smothered in seconds.

You gave in to his whining need to please and relished in the chance to scream again, your wet lips quivering his name with each breath as he tore your third new suit to pieces for just a lick of your cunt.

You were too focused on his mouth to notice anything as you tossed every item of clothing to the floor. Between his whiny moans and your own panting, you couldn’t have possibly heard anything else.

You certainly couldn’t have heard your society watch as it buzzed against the fur rug, the name ‘Jess’ highlighted in clear orange light. It was left to ring to voicemail instead, with neither of you aware it’d even gone off. Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #drider #smut #smut with plot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #read on ao3 #spider man 2099 #monster human relationship #miguel o'hara smut #miguel fluff

[woniefull]

I can’t be your love

you’re in love with jay

but does he feel the same?

you can’t quite figure that out

warnings/heads up: female character, beginning is a bit slow?? little angsty🎀, fluff, minimal curse words, small kisses here and there…I lowkey suck at building up chemistry/romance so please give tips thank you😞😞😞🙏🙏🙏

wc: idek but hella long that’s for sure

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There he was.

You always lingered in the halls in hopes of getting even just a glimpse of him. His soft dark brown hair. Eyebrows that somehow looked better than yours. His cheesy little smile that seemed to never falter.

Park Jongseong. Or Jay for short. He was a junior, just like you. But he had this level of maturity that many boys around his age couldn’t reach even if they tried.

He was a gentleman. That’s what you liked about him. He was kind to everyone.

No wonder he had so many admirers.

“You’re going to get caught one day you know?”

You quickly turn around and meet the eyes of your best friend, Liz.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re pretty sure your face has turned completely red judging from the way Liz is giggling at you.

“You’re so obvious. I don’t know why you haven’t tried to strike up a conversation with him, you clearly like him.”

Liz has stopped giggling now and peaks behind your shoulder to get a glimpse of your little crush.

“Judging by the way things are looking right now I’d say you need to act fast.”

You quickly turn around to see what she was talking about.

The once lonely Jay now had a girl by his side. They were laughing about something. He was wearing that cheesy smile you loved. There was a burning feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Yeah I think you need a break, let’s go.”

Liz took you by the hand and walked you to your next class.

———————————Time Skip———————————

It was cooking class now. Usually you would be beaming knowing you shared this class with Jay, but the moment you witnessed earlier had given you a twisted feeling.

“Okay class today is the start of a new semester. Which means new cooking partners. I would like you guys to partner up with someone you don’t usually talk to, trust me I know who you guys talk to.”

Maybe I should try to partner up with Jay. It wouldn’t hurt to try right? They might be just friends too, I’m looking much too into it.

You quickly scan the room in hopes of spotting him. You do. But someone had beat you to it. It was that girl again. As you were about to turn and look for another partner the teacher speaks.

“Emma please find another partner. I know the two of you are friends”

The girl, or Emma as you’ve just found out, turns around to face the teacher with a pout.

“But Ms. Smith”

“No buts ma’am”

“Jay tell her something!”

You turn to Jay who now has an…embarrassed expression?

“Emma you’ll be fine. It’s not like the world will end if we’re not partners. We can still talk to each other outside of class.”

Emma huffs and turns to find another partner.

“If you say so. See you after class then.”

You see Jay begin to look around to see if anyone witnessed the humiliating incident. Before you can turn to look away he catches you staring at him.

You immediately turn away and pretend to read the cooking book placed on the table in front of you.

Hopefully he didn’t notice me staring.

You hear footsteps behind you and unconsciously squeeze the book tightly.

“Woah there, are you trying to rip the book into shreds?”

You look up. There he was. You’ve never been this close to him. His eyes are enchanting. You’re speechless.

“Are you okay?”

That snapped you out of your day dream real quick.

“Hi yes sorry.”

He chuckled at you while reaching for the book. Your hands gently brushed his as he took it away from you.

“The names Jay by the way and I’ll be taking this from you now, wouldn’t want you to have to pay anything for damaging school property.”

You laughed awkwardly and turned your entire body to face his.

“So y/n would you like to be partners?”

He knew my name? I don’t recall having any sort of conversation with him ever.

You studied his face a little closer. Were his eyes a little wider now and were his ears a little red? It must be your imagination.

“Oh uh, sure!”

“That’s great. I’ll go get our aprons.”

He walked away to the back of the classroom. You were a nervous wreck to the way the least. You had dreamed of a moment just like this, but you never thought it would happen.

I should take advantage of an opportunity like this.

Jay returned quickly and handed you your apron.

“Do you mind helping me tie it from the back and I’ll help you tie yours?”

Lifting your head up you saw Jay looking at you.

“Yeah, no problem.”

He turned and you caught sight of the freckles along his neck.

Cute.

You finished tying up his apron and turned to face the opposite direction.

“Okay I’m tying it now.”

His hands traced gently along your waist as he reached for both strings. You shivered unwillingly.

“I’m sorry did I do something wrong?”

“No you did nothing wrong it’s just…”

How could you explain to him that everything he did gave you butterflies?

“Never mind you keep on going it’s fine.”

“Okay just please let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He was such a sweetheart.

Jay quickly finished tying the apron up and you both sat.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward for you.” Jay says while his head rests on his hand that’s propped up against the table.

“Why would it be awkward?”

Your words came out a little harsher than you meant.

“Well I saw that you witnessed that little incident earlier. I don’t want you thinking that you were a second option or anything.”

“But I was, wasn’t I? You only paired up with me because Emma couldn’t.”

“Wow you’re very straightforward aren’t you? And about Emma, she wanted to be partners with me not the other way around.”

Jay has this concerned look on his face. As if he wants you to understand him. To understand what he was saying.

“Well that doesn’t really matter to me so you’re good.”

“Uh that’s great then.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

You have no idea why you acted the way you did just now but you regretted it. It was easy to tell that Jay was a bit hurt by your words. You were about to say something, but Jay beats you to it.

“Let’s make some apple pie then? The teacher said we could choose whatever pie we wanted to make.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was towards the end of class now and there was flour, sugar, apples, and so much more everywhere on the table. Not only the table, but your face too.

Jay and you had gotten past the tension from earlier and were now laughing and playing around.

“Oh you got something right…”

Jay reaches just under your lip and wipes some of the flour off.

“here.”

You blush and start cleaning up your area hoping that he didn’t notice. How was it so easy for him to do something like that?

As you both finished up cleaning the space around you a voice comes up behind you.

“Jay are you ready to go?”

It was Emma. You had to admit she was gorgeous. It was likely her and Jay were together, hopefully not.

“Oh uh…I’ll meet you guys later I need to talk to my cooking partner about something first.”

Emma took a quick glance at you and then back at Jay.

“Yeah sure…see you.”

She walked away and you looked at Jay with a questioning face wondering what he could possibly want to talk about. But first you had to ask the question that was nagging you.

“Girlfriend?”

“What?”

“I mean Emma.”

You internally slapped yourself. It was such a stupid question, of course they were dating.

“Emma? No never! I mean she’s pretty cool and all but we’re just close friends that’s all .”

“But she’s really pretty, you guys suit each other.”

“You’re right she is pretty.”

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“But-”

You cut him off before he can continue, not wanting to hear anything more about Emma and what he thinks of her.

“So what is that you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh yeah that. I heard you’re pretty good at English and I could really use your help. I was wondering if you could tutor me?”

So that’s how he knew your name. Was his plan to befriend you so that you wouldn’t say no to tutoring him? You won’t lie it hurt a little bit. But how could you say no to the man you were so hopelessly and devastatingly in love with?

“Um…sure no worries. What time works for you? I’m free every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school.”

“You’re an angel sent from heaven thank you so much!”

Your heart just skipped a beat.

“Those times work for me. See you next week then?”

“Yeah see you next week.”

Jay winks at you and walks out.

Oh gosh this was a mistake.

———————————Time Skip———————————

“HELLO? Oh my gosh this is so crazy y/n what!”

Of course you had told Liz everything.

“I know but I’m still super worried Liz.”

Instead of what should have been a smile plastered on your face, was a frown.

“I just can’t help but feel that he wanted to get close to me just so he could easily get me as a tutor. And what’s worse? It worked.”

“Based on what you told me I’m pretty sure he really wants to be friends. You got to watch out for that Emma girl though.”

“I know but I don’t think we would grow into anything beyond that. Plus he said she was pretty.”

“And you’re breathtaking so what does that matter. Impress him! Captivate him. Lock him up if you have to.”

You start laughing at your friend. Liz always knew how to make you feel better.

“We’ll see.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

Knowing that today was the first day of tutoring with Jay, you decided to dress up nicely. A cute pink bow, jean skirt, and a white cashmere sweater. Simple.

Jay was already sitting in the study room you had reserved when you walked in.

His eyes flickered up and he took your appearance in.

“Never saw you as the type to wear skirts.”

How would he know what I wear? I thought he only knew of me just a couple days ago.

“I never knew you were the type to know what I wear on a daily basis.”

You were joking of course, trying to act casually around Jay in order to get closer to him.

But he seemed flustered.

“Well um…glad you could make it. Thanks again for doing this for me I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah no problem it’s not too much of a hassle for me, this is perfect for my extracurriculars list anyways.”

Jay quickly sits up right.

“Oh yeah I heard you have big plans for college. I’m really smart too you know? It’s just English is my only weakness. And also-”

You laugh at him as he tries to quickly string his words together. You already knew how smart he was, of course you did.

“Jay you don’t need to tell me any of this you know that right? I’m not judging you or anything. Unless you see me as some sort of competition or something?”

Jay smiles.

“No yeah I guess I just had the urge to I don’t know…impress you?”

“Why would you need to impress me?”

“I don’t know.”

You both stare at each other.

“Well you’ve left a pretty good impression on me so far, so don’t worry too much okay?”

Wow you’ve gotten bold out of no where.

He chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“Okay then let’s get started.”

You turn to the books you placed on the table and open one up.

“So let’s start with the basics. What have you been struggling on?”

Jay leans his body closer to you making you once again, shiver. His effect on you drove you crazy.

“Sorry am I too close?”

There was no way you’d give him even a hint of your liking towards him.

“No you’re fine. I guess it was a bad day to wear a skirt, it’s a bit chilly in here.”

You tried to laugh the situation off.

“Here take this.”

Your heart skipped a couple beats as he draped his jacket over your legs. You could feel your cheeks flushing red.

“Oh uh thank you!”

“No problem.”

His smile oh lorddddddd.

“Well let’s continue.”

End of tutoring session

“Thanks so much y/n I feel like I’m improving already.”

“Don’t flatter me too much.”

The both of you laugh.

You reach for his jacket but he stops you and instead grabs the jacket to place it over your shoulders.

“You should take it, it’s pretty windy out there and I heard it’s supposed to rain soon.”

This man. He was going to be the death of you.

“But then you won’t have anything to wear! I’ll be fine don’t worry it’s not that far of a walk to the bus stop anyway.”

He starts to collect his things.

“I live nearby so I’ll be okay. But you should hurry to the bus stop before it starts pouring. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

He’s so caring it hurts. Was he like this towards others? Other girls? Emma?

“Okay see you tomorrow for cooking class then?”

“See you.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

You walk into school, earlier than usual. In your hand was Jay’s jacket, you were eager to find him and give it to him. Or maybe eager just to talk to him. This new formed friendship was now something you cherished deeply.

As you walked through the hallways and turned on a sharp corner you accidentally bump into someone. Their phone goes flying in the air.

Emma.

Just your luck.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!”

You’re first to apologize, it was the polite thing to do since it was your fault.

“No worries, I should’ve watched where I was going too but I was busy looking at my phone.”

The phone was still laying on the floor, screen side up, so you reached down for it.

It wasn’t your intention to snoop but the name on the screen caught your attention.

She was texting Jay.

You only got to read the name before quickly handing it back to her.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you both just stood there.

Emma took notice of the jacket you had in your arms.

“Is that Jay’s jacket?”

Trying to maintain eye contact with her, you speak.

“Yeah, he let me borrow it yesterday and I was hoping to return it.”

“How sweet! He’s always lending out his sweaters, it’s a habit of his. Whenever I leave my sweaters at home he always gives his up.”

Oh.

It was pretty stupid to think you were any more special than Emma, he knew her longer and she knew him longer too. They had a stronger bond than the two day old one you both had.

Emma took your silence as a sign to speak again.

“I can give it back to him if you’d like? I have first period with him.”

You look up at her and she has this beautiful smile. She’s similar to Jay in many ways. They’d look lovely together.

“Would you do that for me? Thanks.”

Your voice trembled a bit as you handed the jacket over to her.

Don’t cry. This isn’t something to cry over. You’re not even close with him.

“Well see you around…what was your name?”

“Y/n.”

“My names Emma! See you around y/n!”

At the moment it didn’t irk you that Jay could possibly have feelings for Emma. What irked you is that you couldn’t hate nor dislike her. She was kind and genuine towards you. There were no ill intentions behind her words.

Sighing, you turned around to head towards your locker.

“Good morning darling how was tutoring yesterday?”

At least there was Liz. She was always there for you.

“It was okay.”

“Oh wow. Okay. What’s got you in a twist? I thought you would be bursting with happiness after having some alone time with your crush.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hmm I know you’re lying but I won’t pry anything out of you now. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“This is why I love you.”

“I know it is. Now come one let’s go, I heard they’re serving waffles in the cafeteria today!”

———————————Time Skip———————————

It was now cooking class. For this first time ever, you were dreading having to face Jay. There was this small ball of anger in you, jealousy. You didn’t know how to handle it.

Maybe I should tell the teacher I don’t feel well.

Before you could act on your thoughts, a familiar voice reaches your ears.

“Hey y/n! How you been?”

Jay starts to settle his things down next to you.

Why is it so difficult to try and have a conversation with him right now?

Probably because you know he just walked in with Emma.

This jealousy thing was really frustrating you.

“We saw each other not even less than 24 hours ago. You’re making it seem like it’s been over a year.”

He shifts his head to look at you.

“Yeah uh just trying to make conversation. You know?”

“Mhm.”

You hoped your attitude didn’t hurt him too much. But you felt hurt too.

“I saw that you gave Emma my jacket.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t want to see me huh? Is that why you gave it to her?”

He chuckled. He was joking, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“No.”

Silence.

“Sorry I’m not feeling well today. I think I might go to the nurses office.”

Before he could get a word out you walk up to the front of the class and explain to the teacher about your “illness”. After being given your teachers approval you make your way to the nurses office.

Mindlessly forgetting your things, just needing an escape.

End of class.

Class is now over and you’re still laying down on one of the beds with the curtains closed.

You slept for the first thirty minutes of your stay but now you can’t stop thinking about Jay.

How there was a hint of sadness in his eyes as you walked away from him. Or was it worry? Hard to tell. You clearly don’t know him at all.

But no matter how hard you tried to stop thinking of him, he always wandered back into your mind.

“Jay…”

A sudden noise erupts from behind the curtains.

“Awe man!”

You stand up quickly.

“Hello?”

You slide the curtain open and to your surprise Jay is on the floor with…strawberry milk?

“Thought I could surprise you but I guess you knew I was here already. How did you know? I thought I was being sneaky…”

That’s good. He doesn’t know you were being a complete lunatic who can’t seem to stop thinking of him.

“Oh trust me, you surprised me alright.”

You can’t help but laugh at the sight in front of you.

Jay looks like an absolute clutz.

“That’s nice.”

You stop laughing and raise an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“Seeing you happy.”

You blush.

“Sorry about earlier. I was being a bitch.”

“No you weren’t. Don’t call yourself that.”

He always knew what words would give you butterflies.

“Well I was being a bit rude.”

Your hand reaches out for his, he takes it.

“We all have our bad days.”

He’s up now. But neither of you let go. You don’t want to let go. Does he? He might think you’re weird if you don’t let go of his hand soon.

Swiftly, you retract your hand from his bringing it to your side.

His face now has a tint of pink realizing what just happened.

“I bought you this.”

He sticks out his hand which has the strawberry milk you saw earlier.

“Thanks I love strawberry milk!”

“Yeah Emma told me all girls love anything strawberry.”

Oh.

You try to conceal the jealousy you had forgotten you felt to begin with.

“Emma’s a genius.”

“She is.”

You look down to open up the milk in order to hide the hurt on your face.

“But you are too.”

Huh?

“Thank you?”

Jay stares at you as you struggle to open the carton of milk. He grabs it from you and continues to open it as he speaks.

“I have something important to tell you and I understand if you get weirded out and don’t want to be friends anymore. But it’s just something I need to get off my chest.”

What could it be?

“Go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath and hands the milk back to you. His hand now starts to scratch the back of his neck.

“So I know we’ve only know each other for a couple days but I was hoping to get to know you better.”

“Know me better?”

Was this a dream?

“Yeah, in a romantic way I guess? I don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I understand if your answer is no. It’s just that I kind of like you and-”

His words are cut short when you hug him.

“I hope this is okay.”

You say, hoping for some reassurance.

“I’m just so happy right now.”

“This is more than okay. It’s great. It’s amazing.”

Jay’s hugging you back now.

The both of you stay like that for a while. Until the nurse finds the two of you and sends you guys to the principle’s office for skipping class in order to date.

Being sent to the principle’s office should have made you upset. But as you walked side by side with Jay, nothing could make you happier.

4 months later

You guessed it. Jay and you had ended up together. Turns out your suspicions of him and Emma were wrong, and they were really just close friends. Also, let’s just say she seemed to take interest into Liz a lot more than she did Jay.

Throughout your so far two month relationship you discovered two important things.

1. Jay absolutely loved smothering you in kisses and hugging you from behind while slithering his hands across your waist. He loved pinching your stomach and hearing your voice telling him to stop.

2. You were a clingy girlfriend. Not in a bad way. You didn’t have to be with him every minute of the day. But you took advantage of any moment you had with him, immediately hugging him the moment your eyes set on him. Goodbyes were always hard, even if you were seeing him the next morning.

Jay didn’t mind though. This was one of the many things he loved about you.

“Graduation is coming up soon.”

Jay and you are at the park right now eating ice cream. Summer is coming up soon so the weather is starting to warm up.

“I know, time flies.”

You respond to him. Happily licking away at your ice cream and enjoying the view of the pond in front of you as the sun sets.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be seniors soon.”

Jay still can’t grasp the idea of this being his last high school year.

“College is soon.”

“I never did ask what you wanted to do after high school.”

“I never asked you either.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Y/n…”

You laugh at him and reach for his hand.

“I hope to be a doctor.”

“That’s awesome. You can do it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He squeezes your hand in order to offer some sort of comfort. It works.

“How about you? What do you want to do Jay?”

“I’m boring and simple. I’d like to be a mechanical engineer just like my dad.”

“You’re anything but boring and simple Jay.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss you.

His lips are soft and gentle. You guys have kissed hundreds of times but he always makes it seem like it’s your first.

As he pulls away he brushes some of your hair away from your face. His next words leave you in absolute shock.

“I think I love you.”

Your eyes are wide and your mouth is left agape.

“No, I know that I love you. I understand if it’s too soon and there is no need to give me a response anywhere near the future, but I thought I should let you know.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you love me?”

Your questions were cliche. You knew that. But you needed to know why. This all felt so surreal. Too good to be true.

“Because you’re you. Because of the way you laugh at my unfunny jokes no matter what. Because of the way you smile even at the smallest things. Because of the way you don’t let anyone disrespect you no matter what. And most of all, because of the way you’re the only one that can make my heart skip a beat, make my ears red, and give me butterflies. My heart beats for you and only for you.”

Woah.

You never knew someone could ever feel like this towards you. You were absolutely star struck. But you had an answer already. You always had it deep within you.

“I love you too Jay.”

He smiled.

“Thank God. I was hoping you would say that.”

With that, you both shared another kiss. This one was longer, deeper, and more passionate. It was as if time had stopped. As if the world had stopped. It was just the two of you.

You wished this moment would last forever.

———————————Time Skip———————————

It’s the beginning of senior year now. Jay and you had a plan. Apply to the same colleges which had both of your majors. Go to school together. Graduate, get married, all of that. Two dumb love birds hopelessly devoted to each other.

You both had similar grades and qualifications so you weren’t too worried about getting in or not getting into the same colleges.

It didn’t matter to you though, you would follow Jay wherever he went. You would strive in any pre med program anyways. It wasn’t a bother, as long as you were with Jay. The love of your life.

“I can’t believe it’s our senior year Jay! This is so exciting!”

“I know love, but let’s start getting ready for those applications okay? You know how quickly time passes by.”

“Ofcourse I do. Want to come over after school? We can come with ideas together for or piqs.”

“That sounds great. See you after class?”

“See you!”

7 months later

It was now time. Colleges were sending out their letters.

You had to admit. This was nerve wrecking. It would be absolutely devastating if you didn’t get in to any of your dream schools. Of course John Hopkins and Stanford being at the top.

But the fear of not going to school with Jay had also crossed your mind a couple of times. It’s not like you would die if you didn’t go to the same school, but you loved growing as a person with him and watching him grow too.

The both of you received acceptance letters from various schools but all of them weren’t any of you two’s top choices. Jay’s top choices were MIT and Stanford. Stanford seemed to be the target at the moment. You had applied to Amherst too, just in case Jay had to go to MIT instead of Stanford. It wasn’t your top choice but it wasn’t a bad one either. Luckily you had gotten in!

“Y/n sweetie your father says the mail man delivered some letters! It two of them seem to be from Stanford and John Hopkins!”

Your mom yells from downstairs.

This is really happening.

You quickly rush down stairs and see the letters there in the middle of the table.

“Deep breaths sweet girl. Just know we’re here supporting you no matter what those letters say. You’re still an amazing and intelligent lady.”

Your dad says as he rubs your shoulders.

You smile nervously and reach for the John Hopkins letter first.

Waitlisted.

“It’s okay honey, that’s still such a great accomplishment.”

Tears are threatening to spill out of your eyes. But you have to look strong. You still have one more letter to look at. The one that matters most to you right now.

You reach out to open it and once you start to read what’s inside of it you can’t help the tears from coming out.

Congratulations y/n we are happy to admit you to the Class of 2028!

“Mom! Dad! I’m in! I’m actually in!”

Your parents hug you and take you out to eat in order to celebrate.

Hours later.

As you head to your room after dinner you text Jay.

You: Jay can we call really quick?

Jay: Well hello to you too princess.

You: Haha very funny. Now please can we call?

Jay: Anything for my girl😋

“Hello?”

“Hi princess.”

“How much longer until you stop calling me that?”

“Never.”

“Okay whatever.”

“You got in didn’t you?”

“What? How did you know? Did my parents tell you? I wanted to surprise you!”

“I know you too well, that’s how I knew. Congratulations y/n. You have absolutely no idea how incredibly proud of you I am.”

“Thanks Jay! How about you? Did you get your letter yet? You got in didn’t you?”

Jay clears his throat and for a moment you start to get worried.

“Jay…?”

“Of course I got in princess.”

“Oh my gosh this is amazing. I can’t believe I’m going to college with my boyfriend!”

“Okay y/n it’s been a long day so you should probably head to sleep now sleeping beauty.”

“You can be an annoying shithead sometimes you know that right?”

“I’m your annoying shithead.”

You laugh.

“You’re right. Love you lots Jay. Goodnight.”

“Love you more princess. Goodnight.”

———————————Time Skip———————————

“Hi Liz how’s Boston?”

Yup! Liz got into Boston University! It’s towards the end of summer now and she’s meeting some of her dormates before she officially moves in at the start of the semester.

“It’s great over here! I’m living for this weather. I wish you were here with me right now, I need my best friend during times like these.”

“You’ll be fine, you can make friends anywhere you go.”

“But it won’t be the same without you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“So…how are things with you and Jay?”

“Everything is going great. But I have noticed something different about him.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well he’s been acting a lot more clingy lately. Way more than I usually am. And I thought I was supposed to be the clingy girl friend!”

“Hm yeah, I wouldn’t look too much into it he’s probably thinking guys will try to snatch you up in college.”

“Never!”

You both start to laugh and quickly say your goodbyes as Liz had to go out for lunch with her new found friends.

Coincidentally it’s student orientation day for you so you call up Jay.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Strange.

Jay’s house is only a ten minute bus ride so you decide to go check up on him.

You arrive at his house and knock on his door.

His mom steps out. She usually has a gleeful smile just like Jay’s, but this time her smile is no where to be seen.

“Hi ma’am how have you been? Is Jay around? I tried to call him but he wouldn’t answer so I just came to check up on him!”

Mrs. Park stares at you with saddened eyes and then hugs you.

“I’m so sorry my sweet girl. I’m so so sorry. Just know he did it for a reason okay? He did it for your own good.”

You’re shocked by this. What does she mean? For your own good?

“Excuse Mrs. Park but I’m a little confused. What do you mean? Where’s Jay?”

Mrs. Park rushes inside and quickly comes back out. This time with a letter.

“Take this and read it at home okay? It’s best if you do it in your room alone.”

And with that she gives you one last hug before shutting the door.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Was that.

You’re going through so many emotions right now. As you take the bus home you have the letter in one hand and your phone in the other. You continue to attempt to call Jay in order to get some sort of answer from him.

You make it home and enter your room. Sitting down on your bed you wast no time in opening the letter. Your eyes settle on the first line.

Dear y/n,

Hi princess I know you must be worried right now. Just know that I am physically okay. At first, I wanted to do this in person but I just couldn’t find the strength to do it. I know I’m a coward. I know this will hurt you just as much as it hurts me. But I’m doing this for you. Because I love you. In no way am I blaming you for anything. I want apologize for what I’m about to say next.

I won’t be going to college with you. We can’t spend the next four years together. I’m so incredibly proud of all your accomplishments. I know it’s been one of your biggest dreams to attend Stanford. Which is why I couldn’t let you come to Massachusetts with me. I know the plan was to be together, but your dreams should always come before me. I don’t want to stop you from reaching your full potential. Long distance relationships are a thing yes. But I feel that with our relationship we will only hold each other back. We will never want to reach out for more, in fear of leaving the other behind. I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I hope that we can find our way back to each other. I will always love you. Every season with you has been a blessing. For now I’ll pray for you all the time.

For now I can’t be your love.

I love you,

Jay

You start to uncontrollably sob.

“Jay you asshole. How would you know anything about my dreams?”

Your throat was itching.

“You were my dream. My dream was to spend my life with you.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

Heartbroken.

•••••••••••••••••••JAY’S POV••••••••••••••••••••

I loved her since the day I saw her at the library.

It was sophomore year.

Finals week.

I was looking for some books to prepare for the English final and there she was.

Studying? No.

She was tutoring someone else.

I was amazed. She had to be the smartest at this school. Finals week and here she was helping someone else out.

She was beautiful too. Her dimples and cheeky smile captured me in an instant.

I made it my mission to look for her every time I was at the library.

Luckily she was always there.

I never got too close. Afraid that I would scare her away.

Emma always said I was paranoid and that I should go for it before someone else did.

I never had the courage to, until my junior year.

She was looking at me. Actually looking at me.

She turned away immediately after I caught her but I knew this was my chance to get to know her.

As I walked up to her desk in cooking class I took notice of her hands clutching onto the book in front of her.

Cute.

From there we got closer.

I could never get tired of her.

My hands always found their way to her waist or her face. I loved caressing her and covering her with kisses. It was just my way of showing my love for her.

I loved this girl.

I loved her so much that I was willing to let her go even if it hurt me so very much.

When I got that rejection letter from Stanford I was heartbroken. Not only because it was my dream school but because it was our dream school.

I knew if I told her that I was rejected she would want to go to Amherst. But I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t stop her from chasing the thing she had wanted for so long.

So I wrote her a letter. It was the only way I could clearly express myself.

Even though I made the heartbreaking decision of leaving without saying a proper goodbye I don’t regret it.

I don’t think I could ever leave her if I had to face her one last time.

I thought leaving without a goodbye would be the hardest part but the messages and calls she would leave me for the next few weeks absolutely broke me. I had to fight so hard to not respond.

I’m sorry princess.

I can’t be your love because I’m afraid I’ll ruin your life.

5 years later.

I’m home again. I haven’t told anyone. Not even my parents. I want to take everything in.

Not much has changed. Hasn’t been that long since I left anyways.

But I guess I have.

I’ve grown a bit taller, new hair, and looked a lot cleaner than I did back then.

I walk down the streets of San Francisco and pass by a coffee shop.

It’s a coffee shop she and I regularly had dates at.

I walk in. The bell chimes as it opens up and a couple heads turn to see who the newcomer is, and then they all quickly turn back to what ever they were doing before.

I walk up to the cashier ready to order when I hear a familiar name.

“Order for y/n!”

I turn to the voice.

There she is.

It feels like I’m at the library again.

She’s become even more breathtaking.

Is that even possible?

There’s so much going through my head but it’s as if my legs have a mind of their own because before I know it I’m in front of her.

Admiring her face.

I’m the first to speak.

“Hi.”

Her breath hitches before she starts to talk to me.

“Jay…hi.”

I can’t believe this. I mean, I should’ve expected it. She never did leave the area.

“How have you been, time has-”

Before I can finish a voice calls out to her.

“Y/n there you are!”

A man runs up to her and slides his hand into hers while giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

Oh.

#Spotify #park jongseong #jay #enhypen fanfiction #jay enhypen #fanfic #enhypen #jay park #enha fluff #enha angst #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen female oc #engene

[sugar-plum-writer]

"It's just the beginning darling"

Paring: Sukuna the king of curses! x fem!reader; Sukuna in Yujis Body Tags: Sukuna!imagines; Sukuna!being obsessive; slight!NSFW; slight!gore; mostly it's obsession enjoy~

Sukuna is cold, ruthless, and unpredictable, everything depends on his pleasure and displeasure. For such a man to exist, it's a miracle not more people are dead. Being the King of Curses, the strongest, being above the mere humans that totter about their day.

Just a breath of his, hell just his shadow is enough to make even Satan crawl on fours back to hell with hands sweating, legs weak, fearing for his life. That is who he is one above all beings, worshipped as a god. And to think he, such a great man, would fall for a mere ordinary girl? he does not consider himself to be a man who thinks much about the love business, he thinks more about the non-love business such as who will he toy with today? whose body will cause heart-wrenching sensational screams to echo?

It was all until you entered his vision, sitting in Yuji's body as usual, annoyed, bored, and sleepy. His eyes looking at whatever was going on, that's when he met you. Your bright smile as you hurried towards Yuji, made him wonder, "Who is she?" that's when his bored eyes sharpened, alert, a predator looking at his next prey.

"Hey Yuji! Long time no see!", your voice, so bright, so sweet

"Hey Y/n, yeah, long time no see!", Yuji smiled

"Ever since you shifted schools, it has not been the same, I miss you a lot, why did you change schools?", arms crossed, eyebrows frowned, and eyes full of questions as you stared at him, he cannot escape this

Your conversation continued as Yuji made all kinds of reasons why he left, it amused Sukuna, a bit entertaining seeing the brat struggle and get cornered, hell, he thought it was good, why so? well you will be a good blackmail seeing how Yuji is close to you

The look on Yuji's face, seeing your throat strangled, body ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed ruthlessly―

"Ah, how fun"

The smirk on his face, chilling to the bone, and you were completely unaware that you had swords swaying near your neck, how would it be chopped off not even in your control. You laughed carelessly as you sipped juice, sitting all pretty, so pretty, it made him want to ruin you so much more.

The pleasure of seeing the fear, terror, horrid look in your eyes, your screams of terror, would truly satisfy him it would be better than anything.

Finally he found his next prey and the hunt begun

As time passed, the interactions between you and Yuji grew, you even met his friends, Nobara and Megumi even his teacher Gojo, the more he observed you, the more he thought you were a very vulnerable person, quite fragile, and also an idiot, you cried easily― the one time you cried when your ice-cream fell, how easily you got hurt, stumbling― hitting your foot as curses escaped from those pretty lips.

How sometimes you walked carelessly― bumping into others, the way others looked at you, sometimes, he wanted to rip them to shreds and gauge out their eyes, after all, how dare they look at you with those eyes?, such feelings? why? doesn't matter, if it annoyed him it does not deserve to exist.

"What an idiot", his lips curled up into a smile as a light chuckle escaped his lips.

Once he even took over Yuji's body when Yuji was with you, he played along, sometimes he slipped up which caused you to look at him a bit confused and concerned but it only made him want to cackle and pin you against the wall and-oh the things he'd do― may you never know.

You walked with him so carelessly, in his mind he had already killed you so many times he lost count. The way you held his hand, soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him as you ran and laughed, addicting, it turns into an obsession. An unhealthy one, he thought more frequently about you, when you were with Yuji all his senses were on high alert, taking in each and every movement, your outfit for the day, everything.

"Without them you would look better" his eyes trailed the way your clothes wrapped around you, concealing your body, like a present waiting for him to rip open and ravish you.

You won't be able to escape once he starts, pinning you, kissing you, tasting you as his lips kiss your neck, your breasts ruthlessly squeezed, fondled with- sucked by his tongue as if there's no tomorrow―

Your pretty cunt stuffed with his dick, dripping, crying for help, looking pathetic as your body shakes. Your eyes hazy as he ruthlessly slams into you, non-stop, your cries mean nothing, begging means nothing

He will rail you brutally, so much, so much till you collapse and cannot moan anymore, pushed to your limit, no beyond it

Oh what can your sorry cunt do? Just hold on until it's over, after all it's just the beginning

With Yuji losing more control over him each passing time he takes over, how long would you be safe from his clutches, your clothes, your skin all so pristine, may god have mercy on you dear y/n

Oh I forgot―

He is the God

Worship him, pray to him, offer him what he desires

Maybe you will live, dear Y/n, after all?

Who dares to raise their eyes to look at you in his presence?

Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen anime #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #sukuna ryomen smut

[sfehvn]

new religion part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,407 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

  In the small cottage on the outskirts of the city, madness ensued. The screeching of young children rang out as they happily played about the intimate home, and you let out a frustrated sigh from your place in the kitchen. “Girls, papa needs to rest. Please just relax, okay? Why don’t you guys play in the garden?” You suggested, trying to keep the exasperation from coating your words. You pour the contents from your mixing bowl into a pan, looking up at the oldest of the four girls before you. She sat at the table, scribbling into a journal. “Lillian, will you help me please?” The words were a plea, despondent for any form of assistance. The younger girl lets out a frustrated huff but stands to lead the children outside into the back garden without a word.

  Since the eldest of you had moved on, things had been increasingly more brutal for all of you. Typically, house duties were split between the two oldest, you and Alan. With him gone, that meant everything fell on your shoulders. He had been reluctant to go, but once you had encouraged him to do something for himself for once, off he went with your blessing. You wondered why you couldn’t offer yourself the same kindness, but it always came full circle that without you, everyone in the home would fall apart.

  Lillian was barely old enough to help around the home, yet she was already slipping away in the middle of the night to meet with a boy whom she swore she was going to wed. No matter the amount of times you lecture her about the repercussions this could have, she dismissed everything. You don’t know what it feels like to be in love. Lillian would exclaim, but you did. Of course you did. You wanted to yell, tell her how foolish she was being. However, you would never. Remembering how quickly you were forced to grow up in order to care for everyone, you wanted her to cling to her own childhood for as long as she possibly could.

  Your father lay still on a cot in the front room, his breaths shallow and rattling with liquid as he slept. It had been an awful day for him. Bloodstained rags lay beside the cot, reminiscent of his coughing fits and pleas to be put out of his misery. It ripped your heart to shreds seeing him so poorly. Once a man so full of life and happiness, tormented and withered to skin and bone. He could no longer hold himself up, and you were aware that it was only a matter of time before your grief-stricken family would be back in that cemetery, burying him next to your long-gone mother.

  You’re broken from your thinking by the sounds of his bloodied coughs ensuing once more. You quickly abandon the half-made meal, rushing to his side. You dampen a fresh washcloth in the bucket of water that rests beside him, swiping gently at his blood-splattered chin. “You’re okay, papa. I’ve got you.” You reassure, his wet coughs echoing throughout the room. 

  His body loosens up after a few moments and you grab another cloth to lay across his forehead. There was no denying the pain visible on his face, and you frowned deeply at the hopelessness you felt. “Just like your mama.” He murmured and the words elicited him to sputter another cough. You shushed him softly and patted his hand, urging him not to strain himself. “She would be-.” He falters as he attempts to catch his breath. “She would be proud.” You smile glumly at his words and move to collect wash rags that are strewn about the floor.

  The trash can overflows with contents of discarded rags, and you groan inwardly, picking up the bin to toss it in the front garden’s can. You allow the last bits of warmth from the sunset to soak in your skin, making your way down the dirt path to the bin. A shadowed figure halts you, standing at the end of the path. You squint to get a better look at the mystery visitor, and confusion washes over you at the sight of Astarion. “Astarion? Why are you here?” Your brow creases as you approach, dumping the contents of the can into the larger one.

  He steps closer, hands folded over a chest you’d found comfort in many times before. “I couldn’t leave things the way we did.” It had only been but a couple of days since you had left his manor in a hurry, and Astarion had spent every second apart locked in his study. His servants had felt the brunt of his anger and anguish in that time, more than half of them residing in the palace's dungeon for simply being in his line of sight.

  Astarion had to restrain himself from stealing you away in the night and locking you in his bed chamber until you agreed to stay with him after your little qualm. He had tried and failed to talk himself out of his need for you; the absolute burning desire that screamed in his bones for you made it no use. He needed you. He’d considered consuming you just to be rid of these feelings that plagued his mind but had come to the conclusion that would only make his wanting worse.

  A soft sigh leaves your lips, and you glance back at your home, fidgeting absently with your fingers. The squeals of excited children buzzing about the back garden is the only sound heard in the silence as you carefully try to put your words together. “I’m sorry I left like that.” A million thoughts are whipping in your head, a million things you want to say to him. This is all you can manage, though. With a brief pause of hesitation, you continue. “Would you like to come in? I have to finish cooking.” Your words trail.

  There was a tinge of embarrassment ringing in your head at the thought of having him in your home. Not that you were embarrassed by your family, per se, but Astarion was used to wealth and luxury; your quaint cottage exuded everything but that. Silence befalls you, and you’re about to revoke your invitation when Astarion hesitantly nods. He knew better, and he silently cursed himself for accepting. Was he really supposed to go in there and pretend he’s the same as any of them? Pretend like they’re cut from the same cloth? No, he couldn’t. Astarion didn’t meet families. He destroyed them. Left them in shambles with nothing but corpses in his wake. Still, he followed you in. There was something about the way you looked at him with those big doe-eyes that made it impossible for him to refuse you.

  You lead him into the house, shutting the door behind him. In the soft light of the home, Astarion can make out the dried blood spattered over your pale yellow dress: hair a mess and cheeks flushed, bags formulating under those eyes he loved so much. You were being pulled in too many directions and, hells, practically worn thin. His eyes shift around the cottage, taking in every detail of where you live—the house smelt of you and the scent of a home-cooked meal. You made your way back into the kitchen, resuming the forgotten meal you had abandoned to care for your father. 

  Astarion’s eyes rake over the house, taking note of your sleeping, bedridden father. He felt pity. For you, of course. He knew the recourse coming; it didn’t take an expert to see the man was on his last leg. He intended to be there for you to fall upon once he was gone. He steps deeper into the front room, eyes falling on a perfectly painted picture above the fireplace. A smiling family looked upon him: seven children and a couple blessed in their youth. He immediately recognizes you among the group, and his eyes drift to who he assumes to be your mother. You looked just like her. The artist had rendered that same captivating smile he’d recognized as yours on her face.

  “When mom got sick, papa worked day in and day out to ensure he’d have something to remember her face. He was terrified he’d forget it.” You mused solemnly as you approached behind him. “I’ll never comprehend how he managed to afford it. He made anything happen for her, though.” You smiled.

  “You’re a spitting image.” Astarion murmured incredulously, looking down at you.

  You nod, rubbing your hands over the apron tied around your waist. “So I’ve heard.” Your mother was a soft spot for you. You had always tried your best to live as she would since her passing.

  Loud chatter filled the cottage as the children filtered back into the house. “It’s too dark out now, sissy.” The youngest mewls. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and she was absolutely covered in mud. As were the other girls, aside from Lillian. 

  You tsk, ushering them away from the front room. “Go clean yourselves up. You’re tracking mud everywhere.” You scold. The girls hurry off to wash up without paying Astarion any mind. Lillian narrows her eyes at the strange man in her home, scrutinizingly.

  “Hey, I know you.” You ignore her as you enter the kitchen to check the cooking food. Astarion tries to place her in his mind to no avail. “You get around.” She mutters, saying nothing more as she walks to the table to assist you with setting it. He’s left silenced for a beat, wracking his brain for whatever she may have seen, and it clicked. He had been sloppy. Dissatisfied with the meals his servants had been bringing him, cooked or fresh, he’d taken to his own devices. For months, he had found the joy of the hunt again. He frequented taverns, bringing home women who shared some semblance of you. Lillian must have seen him—more times than once, given her tone.

  Astarion straightens himself out and assists with the table setting, side-eyeing the young girl every so often slyly. How would he react if she said anything more? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t let you discover any of it. Hells, how could he be so stupid? What did he expect? Fear of everything he had built with you gripped him—fear of losing you. “So, Lillian, how old are you? You say you know me; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you about.” He hums. His tone is sickly sweet. 

  “I’m fifteen, and I’m to be married, so don’t get any ideas.” Lillian says pointedly, and Astarion’s jaw all but fell on the floor at the teenager’s response. This family had a solid track record of leaving him dumbfounded.

“Oh, gods, no. I wasn’t-” Astarion started.

 “Lillian!” You exclaimed loudly, shooting her a stare of distaste. “That’s quite enough.” Your voice was stern, demanding. Nurturing. A side of you Astarion had never had the pleasure of seeing. “Just- just go to the room with the little ones. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” You chose to ignore the comment of marriage—a battle for another day. You turn to Astarion wide-eyed once she’s left, shaking your head in disbelief at the situation. “I’m so sorry. She’s been,” you pause, “Difficult. To put it nicely.” 

  “Don’t apologize, darling. Not a problem.” He cleared his throat. He had a few choice words for the girl, much harsher than difficult, but instead, he bit them back, knowing none of them would be satisfactory to you. 

-

  Less than a seventh day had gone by when your father had passed, succumbing to his sickness. While you knew it was coming, it didn’t stop your heart from dropping to your toes when you awoke in the early hours to find his cold body, stiff and unmoving. Your cries rang through the house despite your better judgment, drawing the neighbor’s attention. You had this planned; it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be calm, not to scare your younger siblings. In the moment, everything in your brain was mush. It didn’t matter what you were planning, what you had accounted for. At the moment, you were that same scared young girl who had just found her mother’s corpse all those years ago. You clung to his hands as he was carried away by your brother hours later.

  Astarion was surprised to see you at his doorstep and was readying a flirtatious quip when he noted how disheveled you looked. Your eyes were bloodshot, cheeks flushed and puffy. “He’s gone, Astarion.” Your voice cracked, and his heart along with it. He said nothing and instead pulled you to his chest, caressing soft hair as painful sobs erupted from you. He hated to see you in so much agony. His first instinct was to hurt whoever or whatever was causing this and he felt vulnerable that, in this case, violence was not the answer. 

  No, instead, he cradled you into his arms and carried you to the bath chamber. He held you while servants filled the tub with warm water, careful hands worked the hem of your nightgown over your head while you stared at a spot past his shoulder; it was as if you weren’t present. Now nude, he places you into the warm water. He combed through your hair while you cried, cleaned your body while you screamed in anguish, listened to incoherent pleas for your father to be brought back.

  By the time your body had calmed, the sun was already setting. He lifted your exhausted body from the water, urging the servant replenishing warm water away with just a look. Once in the bed chamber, he towels water droplets from your skin wordlessly. There was nothing he could say to fix your heart—this time. He lays you in his bed, tucking you to his chest and all but cocooning around you. For the first time in hours, you are silent. He can hear your once-racing heart slow. “I want to stay here with you. I can’t be there anymore.” Your throat was raw, words tired. His heart leaps at the statement, and he’s tempted to take you right there and then. He pushes the thought away and instead tightens his hold around you. “We’ll talk about it when you’re of sane mind, my treasure.”

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