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roosterforme · 8 months

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Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest.

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache.

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace."

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand.

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter.

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement.

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping.

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher.

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder.

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team.

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids.

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago.

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it.

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him.

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?"

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday."

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement.

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family.

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

------------------------------

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

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Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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953 notes · View notes

starstruckmiraclekitty · 11 months

Note

Hi!! So I'm really happy because I just went on my first actual date!! But I wanted to request the 141+Köing going on a first date with reader. Not even something fancy like a 5 start restaurant. Like we literally just went to a waffle house lol. But just reader and their man going on a silly little spontaneous late night date. Just reader not caring about where they go just wanting to be with them. That's all!! 🖤🖤

Ahh, ilysm and thanks as always for your requests🩵🩷🩵

141 + Konig First Date With Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, slight angst, swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon was terrified for your first date. He couldn't believe that he'd had the nerve to finally ask you out, but the fact that you'd actually said yes? He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

He'd smooth over the nice pullover he bought at least a half dozen times and fiddled with his hair at least twice that amount before he finally built up the courage to knock on your front door

His heart nearly stopped in his chest as his eyes landed on you, all dolled up for your first date with him

He took you to a nearby farmers market that had multiple vendors for fresh foods. He'd remembered you'd told him once how much you adored little markets, and he thought this would be a perfect first date

He refused to let you pay for anything, and insisted on carrying all the bags of goodies you'd acquired throughout the night

You'd both be lying if you said it wasn't a little awkward at first. Simon wasn't one for small talk, and he found it hard to strike up a conversation

Once you got him on the topic of his love of dogs, though, Simon began to slowly open up to you, and conversations began to flow naturally with you

You stayed at the farmers market until well after it closed, as the conversations between the two of you deepened

Simon, who didn't want the night to end, suggested sitting in the bed of his truck to stargaze, and that's how the two of you ended your night

Simon also begged you to never tell anyone that he blushed like a mad man when you planted a soft kiss to his lips that night - he had a reputation to maintain afterall

For real, though, that man was PUTTY in your hands the second you opened your door that night

König-

König still struggles with terrible social anxiety, and it was a miracle in and of itself that he even asked you on a date in the first place

He was over the moon that you'd agreed, but now came the second hardest part for him....where would he take you?

This was a question that kept him up at night for days. It had to be somewhere that didn't look like he was trying too hard, but not somewhere where it looked like he didn't care

He'd finally settled on taking you to a cafe, one that had a built-in library, since he knew you loved books

He watched in admiration as you squealed in delight upon walking in, your eyes immediately landing on the vast array of books that lined the walls. He knew in that moment he made the right choice

König adorably insisted on buying you a coffee and treat, and made sure that you didn't leave the date without getting at least one of the books he knew you had your heart set on

He got to learn a lot more about you, and König was falling HARD. He started to pick up on your little quirks, some more of your likes and dislikes, and he ADORED the way your nose would scrunch up, and cheeks would burn red whenever he'd compliment you

Though his confidence grew throughout the date that night, he still stuttered, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously when he asked you for a second date

And not that he'd ever tell anyone, but he may or may not have called his grandma the second he got home- to tell her all about you

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Johnny had thought he had it planned out down to the last second. He'd already gotten you to agree to go out with him, and he wanted to take you to a pub that he loved dearly near base for your first date.

Then...came Simon. He teased Johnny relentlessly, telling him that a pub was probably the last place you'd want to go to for a first date

He grew slightly panicked and tried to find anywhere that he thought would be more suitable for you, and for the life of him, he couldn't decide

Unable to settle on anything else, he took you to his favorite pub for the date, and poor boy was so nervous to see your reaction

The man swore he was going to marry you the second he saw the elated look on your face as you walked in

You both spent hours at the pub, your conversations ranging from what you wanted your futures to look like your hobbies, interests- and neither of you wanted it to end

The two of you ended up getting just a bit tipsy, and Johnny took it upon himself to take you to a nearby McDonald's telling you it'd help "absorb" some of the alcohol in your systems

He'd later tell you, though, years into dating, that it was because he just didn't want that night to end

John Price-

Price was very traditional for your first date. You two had just gotten back to base after a mission, and he finally felt like he was ready to make a move

He asked you if you'd accompany him to a newer restaurant that had just opened up near base, and it was a bit on the fancier side

John masked his nervousness well, but he was silently praying that the date went well. He was beyond smitten with you

The date went wonderfully, the two of you talking about anything and everything - Prices only rule being no talk of work, you two talked enough about that at work

He was a gentleman the entire night, pulling out your chair for you, opening the car door, and insisted that he walked you to your front door at the end of the night

He was elated to get to know you outside of the field, and he'd be lying if he didn't feel his heart melting at the thought of getting to take you out again

Wouldn't let you pay for the bill, but I wouldn't say no if you wanted to treat him to some dessert at your local ice cream shoppe

He may have broken his own of "no kissing on the first date" rule, not that he was complaining though

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You and Kyle had been friends for years, always dancing around your obvious feelings for one another, when Kyle finally asked you out

Kyle spent hours in the kitchen the day of your first date, prepping small sandwiches and snacks for the picnic he planned for the two of you

When he came to pick you up, he had a bouquet of fresh cut flowers in his hand, and a contagious smile on his lips

He brought you to a nearby lake, and adorably set up the picnic he'd spent all day preparing

Insisted on serving you your dinner, and went as far as to unwrap the sandwiches for you, and unscrewed the lid of your drink

You swore you'd never laughed so hard in your life than you did on that date, and it was possibly one of the best days of both of your lives

Since you two had known each other for quite a while, conversation came easy for both of you

You both lost track of time, and ended up falling asleep together on the picnic blanket, and awoke the next morning tangled in each other's arms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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tiredfox64 · 10 days

Note

May i make a request? So pretty much fem reader is a a kill for hire, (with morals) no innocents etc) and liu kang sand either bi han kuai and smoke, or kung lao and raiden, to recruit her, they watch,as she asks all bubbly and sweet to lure in her tagret only to kill them easily, posion or something?. They ofc fall in love XD

She Would Hurt A Fly

Prior notes: You not one of my opps trying to convict me of something, right? FBI already trying to get me after my constant research on Datura. Don’t put me in jail for making a murder scene 👁️👁️.

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Violence but you will learn something about pigs.

“You want us to fetch…her?” Bi-Han asked with uncertainty.

All the brothers looked down at a picture of you that was given to them by Liu Kang. No offense but you seem like some ordinary person. But according to Liu Kang you are a tricky woman who is a fierce killer. That can’t be right.

“She looks so sweet though.” Tomas said.

“Do not judge, lest ye be judged.” Liu Kang replied.

“You said she was an assassin that can be hired? If you have the Lin Kuei at your side, why would you need someone else like her that you have to pay for?” Kuai Liang had a point.

“Though true that I have your clan by my side, she can do something none of you were trained to do. I don’t question the Lin Kuei’s abilities but I need someone with her unique expertise.”

Liu Kang’s words only fueled their curiosity even more. Bi-Han was somewhat upset with the god for thinking that he needs someone else other than his clan. But if his words are true he wants to see it for himself. So they’ll accept this quest to get you. They won’t act immediately however. They need to see if you are truly needed. What can you do that is so different?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Target acquired. Your target: a lowlife scum who is somehow let free after committing his heinous crime. People talk, and they all think he somehow paid the judge for his freedom. Some even think he had the justice system by the balls way earlier than when he committed the crime. And you were hired to kill him in any way you see fit. You would have done this job for free but your clients insisted that you deserve the pay. Work your magic girl! You have an audience with you now that you don’t even know about.

Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas hide in the bushes and behind trees to keep an eye on you. It looked they were just stalking a poor woman who was having some car problems in front of her farm home. You could have fooled anyone.

“Should we help her?” Tomas asked.

“Do we look like mechanics, Tomas? Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut.” Bi-Han berated him.

“Settle down, brother. You are only irritated because she has not done anything yet. How about we approach her now and-“ Kuai Liang was cut off when he heard you yell out to someone. All their heads turned to see what you were going on about. Time for action.

You were waving over your target and started asking for help. You acted like a clueless damsel in distress. A poor woman who can’t get her truck to start working.

“Please sir, I need your help. My car is acting all strange. Please sir, I’d really appreciate it.” You gave him your sweetest voice while looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

Who could say no to a face like yours. He accepted which made you jump for joy and clap your hands. That wasn’t fake you were just happy that he accepted in the first place, already making the job go smoothly. Your target had no idea what he was walking into. Hell, he even thought the same thing that you were making this too easy for him. It would be him who will fall victim to you.

You kept your act going. You asked dumb questions about the car and acted all sweet when he corrected you about something. Yet you were only pissing Bi-Han off even more. He wanted to yell at you to do something else. Kill him already. The brothers were all missing the point that this was how you do your. The fact is you lure your targets in. Give them a false sense of security before striking them down. They only know how to sneak up and strike when the opportunity opens up. You just have more patience than them. They don’t have to wait any longer because now you are striking.

You offered to get the man a drink for being so kind to you. He accepted of course. You were quick with getting him a cup and you passed it to him. He looked at you strangely as he looked down into the cup with blue liquid inside of it. He asked you what was inside. You reassured him it was just Calypso lemonade, nothing bad. Well, he trusted you. You built his trust up before, why would a sweet and bubbly lady like you mess with a man’s drink?

He gulped it down quickly and immediately he started reacting. The brothers turned their full attention onto him. Alright, so maybe you weren’t so truthful. Maybe you put in some drain cleaner that was a similar color to the lemonade. Maybe, just maybe. They watched him stubble away from you while holding his throat.

“What’s happening? Did she do something?” Tomas asked, convinced he blinked and missed what you did.

“I don’t know. He just started coughing.” Kuai Liang might not know but Bi-Han suspected there was something else they weren’t thinking of.

Of course you won’t stab a man in broad daylight. You’re a professional. And then it clicked.

“Poison”

“What was that?” Both brothers asked Bi-Han.

“She has clearly poisoned him. The fool was too stupid to realize she was luring him in.” Bi-Han wants to act like he wasn’t doubting you just a few moments ago.

“I’m a no-rust-build-up woman, myself.” You declared to the guy as you watched him crawl away from you, still keeping up that sweet voice.

And just like that he was gone. No blood left over or screams to already anyone else. A quick yet painful death for him and a job well done. Now to dispose of the body.

You left quite an impression on the boys. Kuai Liang finds your tactic to be effective. You fooled them all and he find that incredible. Tomas thinks you would be amazing as a huntress. You have the patience and the sneakiness to be one. He wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two from you. And Bi-Han…what the fuck is he doing.

“Brother, are you…smiling?” Kuai Liang looks confused and Tomas seems horrified.

Bi-Han doesn’t say a word, only hums in response. He’s smiling as he watches you drag the body over the pig pen. This isn’t like a smile one does when they are day dreaming about their crush. No, this is a smile that says he likes you but not in the right ways. A closed-mouth smile that shows no warmth but a devilish desire.

You are a deceitful woman who has tricked all. You trap your victims by giving them a false sense of security. You leave no evidence and do it silently so no one would know. You are leaving that man’s family clueless of his demise. You are wicked and he likes that a lot.

Again he’s not alone in that. Tomas would like to get close to you just to learn your tricks as well. Maybe see if that persona is actually you or just some trick. Either way he wants to get to know you. Kuai Liang is awed by intellect and you have sure shown that by your well constructed plan. He can see why you are even worthy of hiring. You do it so effortlessly it makes your beauty pop out more. We got some bachelors over here.

“Should we go up to her now and tell her Lord Liu Kang’s proposal?” Tomas stepped in front of Bi-Han when asking that question. The only response he got was Bi-Han’s hand in his face, pushing him away so Bi-Han could keep looking at you.

They’ll wait this out a bit. At least it will give you enough time to dump the body into the pig pen and feed your poor, hungry pigs. They can stomach it.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were brought before Lord Liu Kang who told you he would like to have you around. It was a big shock to you. A god wants to hire you? Slap that on your resume immediately.

You accepted the offer quickly. You thanking him for seeing that you are a good person at heart and only try to kill those who deserve such a fate. An antihero if you will. And hey, you have the chance to meet some new people now. Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas seem to be really interested in getting to know you.

Liu Kang was very suspicious of their intentions though. Mostly Bi-Han since he still had that devilish smirk on his face as he stared at you. He hasn’t even talked he just keeps giving off that low hum. Something is off. Maybe he won’t have you train with the Lin Kuei.

“Perhaps I shall send you to the Wu Shi Academy. They might be a better fit for you.” Liu Kang said in perfect earshot of the brothers.

A collective ‘no’ rang out from them which told you and him everything. They like you, they like your skills. They just won’t have any drink you give them. Especially not a Calypso.

After notes: Heathers is free on YouTube. It’s really important you know that. Might give a hint on how I thought of this. Might also be craving a Calypso badly. That Southern Peach gets me.

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phoward89 · 29 days

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 2:

White hot pain courses throughout your body as you lay on your stomach, on your small bed in the corner of the room. The room that was your bedroom, kitchen, and living room all in one cramped spot. Sitting on the bed next to you was Coryo.

He was washing your wounds, causing you to wince; let out sobs and whimpers since he wasn't very gentle.

“Stop whining, I'm almost done, darling.” Coryo told you with an edge to his baritone.

“It hurts, Coryo.” You cried, feeling like you just wanted to die- that's how much pain you're in.

And it seems that the asshole next to you, the peacekeeper responsible for your situation, isn't very empathetic despite claiming that he's your man now. Oh hell…how did this happen to you? Is your luck really that shitty?

“My friend, Sejanus, has some morphling for a bum knee. I'll find him; get some for you.” He told you, cleaning the last of your wounds. “Okay, pretty girl?”

“Okay.” You said, relieved that your tormenter (err new peacekeeper boyfriend?) was going to get you something for the pain.

“I'll get you some food too.” Coryo said while pulling your blanket on you, so that you wouldn't be cold. “Can't have my girl starving while she's hurt and healing, can I?” He rhetorically asked, standing up and taking the bowl with the bloody water and stained wash cloth over to the sink.

You heard the sound of the bowl clanking against the counter as he set it down. You also heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he looked for something in your sorry excuse for a kitchen. Curious about what he was doing, you turned your head only to see him taking your box of teabags out of the cabinet you stored them in. Oh, how nice of him. He's making you tea after he got you whipped; got your back torn to bloody shreds.

Oh yes, a cup of tea’s going to make everything all better. You'd rather have the morphling. You'd also rather be alone right now to wallow in your misery as well.

After leaving a cup of tea by your bedside and telling you to rest, Coriolanus left your apartment to go buy some groceries. After buying a bag of food, enough to feed the both of you for the week, he searched for Sejanus. Coriolanus was only seeking out the annoying district dog because you needed morphling; Sejanus was his only option to get it for you.

Well, that's not exactly true. Coriolanus can always acquire some from the local black market, but it'd cost him a fortune. Plus, he's not even sure that a morphling dealer would even sell to him considering he's wearing denim blue Peacekeeper fatigues. And he couldn't waste his time trying to haggle with some drug dealer, not when you're in desperate need of pain meds.

Oh, if only you didn't steal that apple; then Coriolanus would've never turned you in and you wouldn't be hurt. Why did you have to be so desperate? Couldn't you have just waited for him to approach you, to offer to buy you a treat of some sort?

Coriolanus knew that he'd have to teach you some patience. It is, after all, a very important virtue to have. He, in fact, is a very patient man. Perhaps that's why he was able to put up with all of your sobbing while cleaning up your bloody; shredded back. If he was a lesser man, he would've backhanded you and tossed you into the shower.

But, he's a patient man, so he'll deal with your bullshit in order to get what he wants. Oh, yea, and what he wants is you. You getting his dick wet more precisely. And also being the mother of his children, his wife, and his future First Lady since he finds you to be both beautiful and captivating.

He just has to teach you patience and maybe some manners too. At least you’re smart, or he thinks you are since you didn't try to run from him or beg your way out of your punishment.

So, when Coriolanus finally spots Sejanus (talking to some shady looking locals, of course) he jogs up to him- causing the sack of groceries slug over his shoulder to jostle around. “Sejanus, I need some of your morphling. My girl, Y/N, was whipped real bad this morning; I've been taking care of her since, but she's in pain- tear inducing pain.”

Of course, Coriolanus wasn't going to tell his friend that he's the one who turned you in; the one who got you whipped. Why would he? It wasn't any of Sejanus' business. He didn't need to know that tiny, insignificant detail. The district born dog didn't need to know everything about you and Coryo's life.

Sejanus' eyes went wide at his friend's words. He heard from a local rebel contact that a girl was stripped naked and badly whipped on the snow over an allegation of a stolen apple, one that she didn't have on her. But he didn't know that it was Coryo's girl that got whipped that morning.

“I heard about that, but I didn't know she was your girl, Coryo. Of course, I'll give you my morphling for her.” Sejanus told Coriolanus, sticking his hand in his pocket and quickly pulling out a bottle of morphling. Handing it over to the platinum blonde, he said, “If she needs anymore, just take it out of my lockbox.”

Yes! Score!

Coriolanus was ecstatic that he was able to manipulate stupid, sweet, do-gooder Sejanus into giving him some morphling. He wasn't expecting him to tell Coryo to wipe him out of his drug supply, but he's not going to turn that down.

No…

He's going to make good on that offer, snag up all of Sejanus' morphling so that you won't be in pain while you heal. You're just so pretty; Coriolanus hates the idea of you being in so much pain. And over something that could've been easily avoided too.

“Thank you, Sej. Really, I don't know what we'd do without your help.” Coryo told the dark haired peacekeeper, clasping him on the shoulder before taking off to get back to you.

You were half asleep (actually, you were half passed out from pain) whenever you heard the door creek open. Turning your head towards the door, you saw Coryo enter the small one-room apartment in the rundown tenant building you call home. A sack was slung over his shoulder.

Going over to the kitchen counter and setting down the sack, he announced, “I got us some groceries; got you the morphling from Sejanus too.”

Us? Since when does he live with you? Doesn't he live on base? Oh fucking hell…

As if he could hear your mental musings, he explained, “I'm trading days with some of my squad, taking their days off and then working for them, so I can spend some time here with you until you can get up; do for yourself.”, while unpacking the sack of groceries.

Great…

Just great…

Now he's dead set on staying with you, taking care of you til you're able to move around, and he's trading work days to do it. Oh by the gods, how the hell did this insane man find you? He's acting as if you're his lover, not some girl he turned in for punishment- for whipping.

Hell…

Why did you listen to Ashlie? You should've stayed home, in District 12. At least you wouldn't be dealing with delusional Private Coryo if you’d stayed in 12. God, you hate District 8 so much right now.

“Did you drink your tea?” Coryo asked, as if he really gave a fuck about your well-being, while grabbing some produce and putting them away in your small fridge.

“Some of it.” You answered right as a knock sounded at the door.

“You expecting anyone?” The platinum blonde demon of a man asked while going over to the door.

“No.” You simply told him, earning you a nod.

Coriolanus answered the door, only to be met with a petite young woman. “Are you here to see my girl, Y/N?” He asked the brunette, who was trying to look around his large frame and into the apartment.

“Your girl? She didn't mention taking up with a peacekeeper last time I saw her.” You heard Ashlie, your late brother's girlfriend that abandoned you after dragging you out here to this hellhole called 8, tell Coryo.

“Yes, well, it’s a fairly new development. But she's mine all the same.” Coryo told Ashlie in a diplomatic tone, a shit eating grin on his face.

He has power over you and like hell some ratty whore was going to poke and prod him about his relationship with you. It was none of her business that he just scooped you up today, literally.

“Send her away, Coryo.” You loudly ordered, since with didn't want to be bothered with Ashlie. Didn't she have better things to do, like live her new life with that rebel boyfriend of hers, then to check in on you? Not like she's been going out of her way to see you before you got hurt.

Looking between you and the door, Coryo simply nodded and, without warning, slammed the door shut in Ashlie's face. She tried to open it back up, but he threw his tall body against it- slamming it shut again and quickly locked the lock and placed the door chain in place.

Crossing the room, making a beeline towards your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Who was she, Y/N?”

“She used to be my brother's girl til he got blown up to bits during the summer when our rebel neighbor bombed the mines.” You explained to him as he pulled out a vial of morphling from his pocket.

Crouching down next to you, he popped the cork of the vial and tilted your chin up, only to pour the pain medicine down your throat. “Mines? But 8 doesn't have any mines.”

“Thank you.” You gratefully told Coryo as he set the empty vial to the side, next to your half empty teacup. “I'm originally from 12; just applied for a district transfer cause Ashlie couldn't handle her grief over Rein's death. She begged me to come here with her when word got out that a plague decreased their workforce; made district transfers available.” You explained, even tho you probably shouldn't be. He is a peacekeeper after all. And the one to get you whipped. But what harm is there in telling him your story? It's not like you have anyone anyways, you're an orphan- truly alone.

“I take it you're not on good terms with her.” Coryo said knowingly.

You're at the mercy of a delusional white-blonde peacekeeper. Thanks to Ashlie taking off. And any hope there was at repairing the sisterly friendship you once had flew out the window once you go whipped and became the the girl of some peacekeeper grunt- who's a hand short of a full deck.

“Not long after moving here she hooked up with some guy she met; left me all alone. So, yea, we're not on good terms.”

“I'm sorry she did that to you, darling. Family should never abandon family.” The blonde told you, lifting up your blanket to check on your wounds. “I'm here now, baby. You're my girl; I'll never let you be alone again.’ He promised, pressing a kiss to an unblemished part of your shoulder.

You didn't know what was worse. Being alone or being stuck with him. And something deep in your gut tells you that you'll never get rid of him. That he's worse than a tick on a bloodhound.

“Some of these lashes are deep. I can see some muscle and bone.” Coryo informed you. Well, that would explain why your back hurts like a bitch. At least the morphling he got you’s taking the edge off.

“You'll have to stitch me up, Coryo, or else I could get an infection and die.” You honestly told the peacekeeper, since the last thing you wanted was to get gangrene or sepsis. You really didn't want to get stuck going to the rundown public district hospital. You didn't have money for that, plus you heard some horror stories from coworkers at the peacekeeper uniform plant about the hospital.

No thank you, you'll take your chances at home with the devil.

“Don't talk like that, my darling. I'm not going to let you die; I'm going to take care of you.” Coryo said, petting your hair and pressing a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving your side to go find your sewing kit in order to stitch you up.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

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susansontag · 9 months

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studio ghibli ranking list let’s go

(will include nausicaä and the red turtle)

the these-are-actually-bad section:

24. earwig and the witch

actually the only one I haven’t watched so it’s cheeky to put it here. but I won’t be watching it and no one will blame me.

23. ocean waves

who sincerely cares about these teenagers they’re so annoying. if the boys had been gay it would have honestly been homophobic.

22. pom poko

this film is about shape-shifting raccoon dogs waging a war on humans and there’s copious jokes about their testicles. so on paper a perfect film. execution wise it’s so long and so boring and you care about none of them.

the cure-for-insomnia section:

21. tales from earthsea

hayao miyazaki was right to walk out of this one even though he probably is a terrible father for having done so. some of the animation was really nice but these protagonists made me yearn for the ocean waves cast because at least they have semi-personalities.

20. castle in the sky

proof miyazaki was judging his son too hard for earthsea because this is basically his version of the same thing: a nice idea with good animation and the most boring boy/girl protagonists imaginable. has got that whimsy he does so nicely however.

the passable-films section:

19. the cat returns

but should he have? was that really necessary? has a scene of cats walking in a procession on their hind legs though so that’s a plus.

18. arrietty

visually gorgeous but otherwise a very run-of-the-mill adaptation of the borrowers, which in something that should feel wondrous is less than ideal.

17. my neighbors the yamadas

some harmless and inventive fun that you can put on in the background whilst eating lunch or doing some light yoga stretches.

the don’t-harm-me-I’m-right section:

16. howl’s moving castle

yes I do in fact understand the intricacies of the plot and I still don’t care. this is one of ghibli’s messiest films for sure, it can’t decide what it wants to be or focus on and the plot just seems to happen and then not happen for no good reason. I also think howl’s a whiny bastard and hate that sophie has to mother him and endure his contemptible man tantrums. a shame because she’s actually cool.

15. grave of the fireflies

it was sweet but I’ve watched more moving animated films set in war-time, even. I don’t have much desire to watch it again honestly but maybe I will at some point.

the this-is-getting-there section:

14. the red turtle

I liked it! an acquired taste but I really felt the harshness of the elements and the cruelty and the love. it's also very beautiful to look at, one of the most visually arresting ghibli productions.

13. only yesterday

a tale of two films with this one. the parts where she's a young girl are much more interesting, but if this had stuck the landing and it'd been more even overall, could have potentially been a favourite. alas.

12. the wind rises

a genuinely weird one in ghibli's lineup, in which miyazaki meshes two different stories together (one of inventive 'genius' and a doomed love story, respectively) in a likely attempt to try and grapple with his having chosen his career over all else, including family (noteworthy is that his wife was not able to retain her career as an animator). as a piece of art it's less whimsical and more mature than many of these films, but I struggle to not let my distaste for what it potentially represents get in the way of my appreciation for it as a film, but it's so blatantly personal that it's impossible.

the that-was-just-a-good-fun-time section:

11. nausicaä of the valley of the wind

aesthetically one of the coolest films on this list but I don't remember the story as well. great protagonist too. must have been great to experience when it first came out in the '80s.

10. porco rosso

I love this film about a tomboy mechanic and some pilot guy who went off to war and was so changed he is now a pig. watching it feels like if the mediterranean was so small it fit into your back pocket and was also populated by all your friends all your enemies and your ex-lover also.

9. from up on poppy hill

I found this one boring the first time I watched it but it really grew on me with subsequent rewatches. I really like her predominantly female household and the community they share in the backdrop of the rest of the drama is sweet. the bit of drama midway through is still batshit though but in a loveable, disney-would-never way.

the near-perfect section:

8. the tale of the princess kaguya

probably takahata's magnum opus with the studio, if slightly overlong. folktales are tricky because they tend to feel moralistic and the characters one-note if you're not willing to build on them but kaguya herself feels very spirited and alive. the prettiest on the list too I'd say.

7. my neighbor totoro

cozy late summer comfort film. perhaps even more special now because I was able to see the london production. cute!

6. when marnie was there

surprised this one has ranked so high for me but that's the power of tomboy lesbians heck yeah etc. also the fantastical element of this one is so up my alley and touches upon a particular kind of childhood nostalgia I have of being in old houses and imbuing them with magical qualities. the image of anna facing the house across the marshland is burned into my retina.

the I'd-die-for-her section:

5. princess mononoke

aesthetically too cool for school and has one of the best ghibli villains and female characters (lady eboshi). they really said all the spirits of the forest are going to die in this one but well it was a nice thought.

4. ponyo

my comfort movie of all-time! heartwarming! with another great female ghibli character in lisa, sosuke's mum who is legally allowed to drive like that apparently. also one I actually watched for the first time in my childhood when I was around 7 or so at an after school club. the subtitles taught me the useful and now underused gem of a phrase "bog off".

3. kiki's delivery service

asks the important questions such as: what if you were a young witch from a dying tradition who moves to a gorgeous town in sweden? what if your remarkable gifts were no longer appreciated due to rapid advancements in aviation technology? what if you could live in a bakery?

2. spirited away

when you're just a timid child who is scared of admittedly a lot and your parents manage to mess everything up spectacularly so now you're forced to work at the age of twelve for people who steal your identity. still one of the best honestly they may never top this as the peak of their artistic achievement.

1. whisper of the heart

have you ever been a struggling artist? have you ever been in love? have you ever been obsessed with john denver's take me home, country roads? in all seriousness love a story of two artistically inclined people inspiring each other and this has a unique feel compared to other ghibli films forever favourite probably. it feels like basically no one has watched it and that's a shame. rest in peace yoshifumi kondō.

#this took fucking ages #I welcome discussion #studio ghibli #moth.txt #moth rankings

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therhythmafterthesummer · 10 months

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Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted.

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy.

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair, ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha.

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good.

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better.

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’.

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it.

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem.

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again.

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy.

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake.

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared.

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

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minicoffee00 · 6 months

Text

I’m just here as a distraction right? Part 1 Lucien x Reader

Plot: After Lucien finds out Elain is his mate, he spends the first year pining after her. After seeing her getting closer to Azriel and her found family in the Night Court, he starts to have feelings for a High Fae Girl who stumbled in Jurian, Vassa and Lucien’s home.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Lucien had listened to Feyre when she'd said to keep trying to reach out to Elain, to get to know her. He attempted getting her food and drinks but she always looked at it in disgust and pushed it away. She never accepted any of the offered gifts, or his time that he offered up.

Lucien got to the point where he wasn't even trying to woo her, just trying to be a friend, someone she could talk to when she didn't know who else to go to. But Elain was being cruel, she wasn't rejecting the bond, because when she did that it made it real and she didn't want to acknowledge it. However, she was completely happy to pursue Azriel.

When he saw them out in the garden, he couldn't help but see how Elain was forcing a connection between them, even more so when she knew he was watching.

"Feyre, I cant stand to be here much longer. I'm being treated like a stray wet dog coming into your home. I no longer wish to impose" he voices, knowing he had a place with Jurian and Vassa.

"Please Lucien, she'll come around" Feyre begged, holding Nyx on her hip.

"It's been a year Feyre, she wont even acknowledge me as a friend. Which i would have been to her despite the bond. It's running me ragged ... her not rejecting me and letting me move on while i have to watch her with HIM" Lucien grits out.

"I know, but please Lucien. You are my friend" Feyre breathes coming closer to him. Just as he was about to cave, and admit defeat and say he would stay here for a little longer, Azriel and Elain walked in from the garden, Azriel with a hand on her lower back guiding her through the door.

They both pause, seeing Lucien, Feyre and Nyx. Elain stops her laughter shying away a little seeing the red haired fae that always hung about.

"I'll take that as my leave" he says glancing at Feyre, and she knew what he meant. He wouldn't be coming back.

"Lucien, please" Feyre begs one last time.

"Goodbye Feyre" he says before winnowing out and to a place, he felt slighty better in, but not home. He never felt like he'd find a home.

Lucien arrived home, greated by a heavily drunk Vassa and Jurian. He joined them for the entire night only waking to a rough bang on the front door of their house.

Lucien was the one who drunk the least and ended up aanswering the loud knocking. He opens the door to a face he hadn't seen in a year.

"Tam?" he asks in shock, the blonde man seemed healthier now. His blonde hair was bright again no knots and no dirt in sight. He had washed, found new clothes and he looked like his old self.

"Hello, old friend" he greets, Lucien steps out pulling his old High Lord into a hug.

"I think there's something I've acquired that is off use to you" he grins out, in a teasing manner.

"You- You're here" Lucien breathes out, a deep chuckle coming from Tamlin.

"Yes, I am. Beron has fallen and Eris has had the transfer of his High Lord nature. It seems he had granted your mother access to go to her former lover" he says, the grin turning a little malicious, something that didn't go un-noticed by Lucien.

"And now that the Spring Court is back and thriving and my people are happy, I've had time to travel and well gather important information" he adds.

"Information like?"

"Seems like little Feyre, hasn't been completely honest with you. Someone you deemed a friend. So I'm here as a friend Lucien, because that's what we are and i, unlike some people don't hide the truth from them" Tamlin admits, and Lucien stays silent. A gentle nod for Tamlin to continue.

"Beron, isn't your father. Your mother had an affair with a different High Lord of the Seven Courts" Tamlin smirks, Lucien's head snaps up in shock, he kenw Beron treated him awfully and thats why he'd left to come to Tamlin.

"Who is it?" Lucien asks.

"Feyre worked out that Hellion is your father, he and your mother had an affair and thus you were born, so right now Lucien you my friend are the only heir to the Day Court. And a hopeful ally of mine. Now that Eris has taken over Autumn Court, god knows what he's agreed to with the night court!" Tamlin explains, however the conversation is cut short as you enter.

“STOP” a shout comes across, a young woman, running towards Tamlin, thanks to her attire it was obvious that she was from the Day Court.

“Lucien, you weren’t supposed to find out like this” you say running up to them, you go to punch Tamlin, regardless who he is until an unearthly growl stops you, Lucien stepping in front of you. To protect you.

“My father sent you?” Lucien asks testing the word, it sounding so odd and foreign.

“Yes, to come get you so he could talk to you and explain to you. I’m one of his most trusted warriors. Please come back to the day court, he wants to meet you… well as his son” you offered, Lucien only grunts a hand slipping up his face covering his tired eyes.

“I can’t, not right now” he grunts out turning to go back in the house.

“Then let me stay with you, I have to bring you back eventually. So please let me stay with you until you feel ready.

…

And it took a while for Lucien to feel ready, he had so much on his mind, he had a father who according to what you had told him only found out a day before he had and had sent you out the minute be found out. His actual father seemed to care and he couldn’t help but think of what his life would be like IF he had been raised by Hellion rather than Beron.

Then there was the Elain situation, he could feel everything down the bond that had only seemed to strengthen and pull at his heart strings as he left. But he could feel Elain and everything she did. There was also the Night Court as a whole, specifically Feyre for lying to him. And now the fact that Tamlin was back asking for his friendship only now seeing his as a potential ally.

The only person who had been patient with him was you, you’d waited and helped him with little tasks he just couldn’t bring himself to do.

And because if this he slowly started to cling to you, as his only support.

This turned sexual very quickly, he had wanted some kind of release, and you being his outlet made sense.

From your mind however, you had slowly started to fall for the Day Court Prince, as his father had said to you, you’d teased him for days about it.

Every little thing you did was from the bottom of your heart, you wanted him to feel wanted and needed as you could tell he hadn’t had someone show him this level of affection in a long time.

…

“Lucien” you moaned as he kissed up the side of your body, his mouth finding itself on your breast, sucking and pulling at the tender flesh as it perked up.

“Yes, sweetheart” he asks.

“I need you” you say to him, he hadn’t understood the full meaning of those words but to you, that was commitment to him in itself.

He pulled up the dress skirt that you were currently wearing courtesy of Vassa, whom said you could borrow anything while you were here.

His fingers slid up your thighs, finding you already bare.

"So naughty" he groaned, you were already very wet, meaning his two fingers slid in with ease. He pushed them in and out, making a scissoring motion. He leaned down kissing across your jaw and neck, while basking in the noises you were making because of him.

He pulled his pants off and down, leaving him bear. He slipped in thursting until he bottomed out, whines coming from both of you. He made you feel so full and satisfied, and with this feeling you'd assume he was your mate.

However, Jurian had made it his mission to tease you around the fact that Lucien was already technically bespoke for.

You'd done this many times and Lucien never said anything, other than the occasional compliment, not abouthow you looked just how you felt around him. Breathy groans and whines were the most of what came from him, you on the other were extremely vocal, telling him how his skin glowed in the light, or how his eyes danced with colour. How silky his hair felt as it brushed against your breasts when he leant down.

He started to thrust in an out of you quicker, his hips starting to stagger, you tightened around him feeling that coil in you unleash with white hot ecstasy.

"Elain" he moaned, as you both came, he stilled inside you immedielty realising what he said.

"I-" you start but he pulls out of you, looking mortified at what he had just done.

"I didn't mean to say her name I - cant. I'm so sorry" he says putting his head in his hands.

"It's okay, I guess im just here as a distraction right, while you figure everything out, with you dad and you mate and your old courts." you say, pulling the dress down and standing up. You walk to the bathroom slamming the door shut and turning on the water to fill the bath.

Quiet sobs came out of you as you sent a letter to Hellion through a Falcon telling him you'd be returning to the palace without his son and that you couldn't stay here anylonger.

A/N:

Later on today, i will post my up and coming and hopefully will be able to post what's in store for my 24 days of Christmas!

Not sure if a part 2 is needed however if there is demand i will be more than happy.

It's reading week at university this week so i can post more too! So my up and coming will hopefully be quick!

Taglist:

@cat-or-kitten

@sstrohma

@horneybeach1

@its-sam-allgood

@starryhiraeth

@xcastawayherosx

@glitterypirateduck

@azriels-mate123

@mavropouloupanagiota

@chasing-autumns-chill

@justdreamstars

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #acowar #acosf #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien vandaddy #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra smut

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hey there!

first of all i wanted to just gush over how incredible your writing is and that i can’t stop re-reading all of your works! they’re just so good!

second i wanted to say how sorry i am to hear about your dog :(( i have a dog of my own and the thought of anything happening to him moves me to tears, so i truly share in your pain 💜

and lastly, i was wondering you’d do the Only One Bed ™️ trope with hunter and a fem!reader? NSFW is accepted and highly encouraged ;) but if you’re not feeling up to it, please put your mental health over this request!! much love 💜

Aloha!

Thank you so much! Very happy to read this. And thank you for your kind words regarding my dog 💚💚💚

Only One Bed trope, with Hunter.... NSFW, sure thing 😁

I don't know what I did here, but I got carried away. Couldn't decide the fluff and/or smut level, so I kinda mixed it up, and I'm not sure what this is, but it's a lot more than I had planned in the first place...

Hunter x Fem!Reader - One-Shot - The Tension Between Us

Warnings: Sexual Content/Suggestive/No Established Relationship (yet)/Smut/18+

_______________

As Hunter and you are stranded in the small scout shuttle for technical reasons, you find yourselves on a very small abandoned outpost. Apparently, the tiny outpost has been abandoned for ages and was only designed for a single person, because there is only one bed. By necessity, you'll have to spend the night here until you're picked up, so you'll have to come to some sort of agreement on the sleeping situation.

________________

Oral Receiving/Dry Humping/PiV Sex/Fingering

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble, rolling your eyes. Frowning, Hunter asks, "How am I looking at you?" "Like it's any of my fault we got stranded here. The crash was a technical error, not mine." Hunter shakes his head and says patiently, "I'm not upset with you, or your flying skills, I'm upset with the situation." "It wasn't my flying skills though" you insist, already raising your finger in the air to back up the statement. Realizing you've acquired Tech's quirk, you quickly lower your hand again. You're definitely spending too much time with Clone Force 99, you realize. Hunter smiles barely noticeably, raises his hands placatingly, and says, "Yes, I know it was a technical issue. Still, we're stuck here now, and we've both been out for a while, the shuttle is junk and there's only one bed." You sigh and look at the bed, which is neither particularly large, nor particularly small, but in any case a bit too narrow for two adults who don't necessarily want to have physical contact. Hunter has a silly idea, he knows it's not particularly clever, but hears himself say it before he can stop the words from leaving his mouth. "We can both sleep in the bed, can't we? There's no fallback, and we're both adults, we've known each other for a while now. I don't think either of us needs to sleep on the floor." The surprised look you give him makes his insides tighten for a moment. But when you finally shrug your shoulders, nod and say, "Sounds reasonable," he relaxes again. However, seconds later, he's plagued by completely different worrisome thoughts. Yes, you've known each other for quite a while, almost a year, and for a few months now he's started fantasizing about you. At first, he was just attracted without really understanding what those feelings were. Hunter has had a few flings, but never a deeper relationship, that was not allowed anyway. Until now, he didn't have to deal with that either, but then you showed up. In the beginning he was only attracted to you, he feels comfortable around you, he trusts you, at work as well as personally. Then more and more factors came into play. At some point Hunter couldn't get enough of your scent, you started showing up in his wet dreams and at some point he started fantasizing about you too when he needed relief.

By now it's clear to him that he has a thing for you, both physically and emotionally, but Hunter has no idea how to deal with it. What's bothering him right now is the worry that he might dream about you again while you're in bed together. Tech had already pointed out to him that he sometimes talked in his sleep. That could be a problem. As you begin to take off your armor, he stares at you as if thunderstruck.

"What is it?" you ask, frowning and pausing in mid-motion. "You're getting undressed?" "Yes. I can't sleep in the full outfit. Can you?" Hunter shrugs uncertainly. "Sometimes." "But it's not necessary now. Basically we're not on duty, we're stranded but safe. So I'll put my gear down" As he still stares at you, you say teasingly, "Don't worry, I'll leave the blacks on, I'm not going to lay naked in bed with you". You can see him gulp, but then he smiles nervously and starts taking off his gear as well. "Okay, sounds reasonable" he says, trying hard not to look, not to admire the way the tight blacks hug your body.

But all he can think about is that you probably don't have anything on under the blacks, like most soldiers. He can't see any bra or panties showing underneath, anyway. He blinks several times, takes a deep breath, and forces his thoughts elsewhere. Hunter may be into you, but he has too much respect for you as a person and as a friend to gawk at you the way he would like to. When you finally lay down next to each other, barely a hand's width fits between you, so close that you can feel each other's body heat, and you can feel how tense he is next to you. You turn your head to look at him. Hunter stares at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest as if he needs to hold himself. You frown and think for a while, watching him. You know that a certain tension has arisen between you, already a long time ago, something that cannot be avoided when you find the person you work so closely with attractive. Not only that, but you are sure he feels the same way you do, somehow you sense it, and sometimes you see it in the way he looks at you. He is outrageously handsome, in combination with his deep, slightly smoky voice, his skill as a soldier and the decent heart that beats under his breastplate, he is practically irresistible to you. But you know how regulations are, that clones aren't supposed to be in serious relationships, and you don't want just a fling with no real connection. The thought that he might be with other women if you don't work together for a while has kept you up many a night. But as far as you know, Hunter's last fling was about six months ago. It was about then that you noticed the way he was looking at you, that's when this weird tension started to develop between you. "You seem tense," you say quietly. Hunter swallows, he sighs softly, then says, "An unusual situation."

You talk for quite a while, about all sorts of things, until you feel that you both relax and eventually fall asleep. At some point during the night, however, you wake up, you feel a weight on your upper body and between your legs. Almost as if on cue, you feel warm between your thighs, even before you are fully awake. You blink, trying to get your eyes used to the darkness in the room.

Finally, you realize, one of Hunter's legs is between yours, slightly bent, his thigh right on your now heated center, one of his arms across your torso, almost like a hug. However, Hunter is asleep, probably doesn't even know what he's doing. His leg moves a little, the friction on your pubic creating a pulse that tingles in your pussy, and you clearly feel wetness gathering in the heated triangle between your thighs. Suddenly he seems to stop, he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes. His whole body tenses, trying to orient himself in the darkness. You know Hunter smelled your arousal, that's what woke him up. He seems confused at first about the situation you two are in. "Sorry," he mumbles as he realizes how close he came to you in his sleep and wants to pull away. Your hands claw into the top of his blacks, holding him in place, whereupon he reaches with one hand for the small lamp that stands beside the bed and turns it on. It's a fairly dim light, but strong enough for him to see your face. Your fingers are still clawing into the fabric on his chest. Hunter looks at you questioningly. You say, almost in a whisper, "Don't go away." He blinks, pauses. A barely noticeable smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, and you can see his pupils grow bigger almost instantly. He moves his thigh a little between yours, tensing his muscles, rubbing over your pussy. "You want me to stay right here?" He takes another deep breath, knowing full well you'll say yes. You nod and say, still almost whispering, "Yes."

His hand that was previously on the lamp moves to your hip and grips, while his thigh continues to apply friction and pressure to your center. By now the moisture of your arousal has seeped through the fabric and the smell is so intense for Hunter that his cock pressed against your thigh is hard as diamond. His senses and hormones are already dancing tango, everything in him is in passionate flames. He knows exactly, he will enjoy this a lot. But most of all, he wants you to melt into arousal, he wants you to have so much fun that you want to come to him again and again, that when you look at him, you can think of nothing else but his closeness. As he kisses you he is gentle yet hungry, his tongue is so quick in your mouth and has the upper hand that you feel a deliciously sweet helplessness. You trust Hunter, completely, you know you are safe with him. If it's up to you, he can do absolutely anything he wants to you. His lips part from yours, his thigh still pressed to your pubic, his lips close to yours he says in his smoky voice, "My senses are full of your scent, but I think it's time for more, every one of my senses wants to explore you."

Swimming in arousal, you say almost a little breathlessly, "Yes, please." Hunter smiles in satisfaction. He kneels over you, his knees to the left and right of your hips and his hands reach for the hem of the top of your blacks, pulling it up, slowly and deliberately. You watch him lick his lips as your breasts emerge from under the fabric. Then you bring your arms up, so he can pull the top over your head. But he doesn't pull it off you, he keeps your arms and the top of your head trapped in it. He ties the fabric together, so it stays in place. You can't see anything, only your mouth peeks out from under the fabric and your arms are fixed in it. Theoretically you can free yourself, Hunter doesn't want to restrain you, certainly not against your will, he's more interested in creating an erotic illusion. A hoarse moan comes over your lips as his close around one of your nipples and teasingly suck on it. His tongue plays with it, his fingers gently knead the soft flesh. With a lot of skill and passion, he takes care of your boobs with his hands and mouth, making you squirm and let out sweet little sighs. Then, quite unexpectedly, his hand wanders down on you, while his mouth is still playing with one of your nipples, and slips right under the fabric of your black's pants.

At first, you make a small, startled sound, and close your thighs around his hand. Hunter pauses, his mouth moves from your chest to your chin, kissing it gently, and he whispers, "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you, on the contrary. You trust me, don't you?" In response, you slowly open your thighs again and say in a whisper, "I trust you." "Good girl," he coos to you, kissing his way down your neck as his fingertips wander, carefully, gently, through your damp folds. "A good girl indeed, so wet for me". His words tingle under your skin, in your nerve endings. You could listen to his voice day and night, especially when he speaks to you as he does now. Hunter's fingertips find your clit and caress it playfully while his tongue dances circles around your nipple. Your hips automatically buck up, towards him, craving more. One of his fingers finds your opening and tickles it gently, teasingly. "You want to feel me there, don't you?" A hoarse, "Yes," passes your lips. Hunter withdraws his hand from you again, moving further down and pulling off the pants of your blacks, leaving you lying naked in front of him with your head and arms still trapped in your top. You feel his strong hands on your thighs and how he opens them, how his shoulders push in between. Shortly after, you feel his hot breath on your damp folds. His lips softly graze the insides of your thighs, slowly making their way to the center of your heat. You know what's coming, you're in aroused anticipation, yet the feeling as his tongue roams through your wet folds is almost overwhelming. You hear Hunter growl softly, like a predator descending on his prey, as his tongue and lips explore your pussy. Finally, he finds your clit and applies gentle, circular pressure with his tongue, eliciting sighs and moans from you.

Hunter's tongue gets faster and faster, everything inside you tingles, every muscle tensed in arousal, your pussy twitches impatiently and greedily. Then suddenly he lets go of your clit and drills his tongue deep into your opening with a growl, deep from his chest. Like a starving man he licks you out, drills his tongue into you again and again, fucking you with it while his hands have a firm grip on your thighs and your whole abdomen trembles with arousal.

Again and again you moan his name, it is divine, consistently on the threshold between maximum intensity and climax without tipping over, a wonderful, sweet agony. He keeps you on this threshold for quite a while, greedily absorbing your juices. Finally, you can't take it anymore. "Hunter, fuck me!" His tongue slips out of your pussy, skims over it once more, circles your clit teasingly before he rises and releases your thighs. You hear soft rustling of clothes and squirm in your top that also serves as your bondage. Your arms are still trapped in it above your head, but your eyes now free to admire him. He is a positively stunning sight, steeled, beautiful. Tanned, tattooed skin stretches over hard muscles. Then your gaze drifts downward. His cock stands erect, hard, thick, gently curved, rounding out the perfect picture you have before you. You're so hungry to feel him inside you, you can feel your juices pooling in your pussy. He shows you a smirk as your eyes meet, he knows exactly what you're feeling, can sense it with practically every one of his senses and he loves it. He leans over you, propped up on his arms, his hips dipping between your thighs, his cock gently nudging your wet hole. "Are you ready for me, girl?" You nod eagerly, "Yes, absolutely ready." Hunter never dreamed this moment would come, but now it has, and he's enjoying every second to the fullest, your scent, every little sigh from you, every movement, just everything he soaks up like a sponge. He applies pressure, his cock parts your wet folds, slowly penetrates you inch by inch. He keeps an eye on your face, careful that you feel perfect. Every little excited twitch in your face is a feast for him, making his chest swell with pride and his heart beat up to his throat. He knows that yours has been pounding behind your ribs since the first moment he touched you, and he loves that beat.

The stretching is glorious, as he finally sinks all the way into you, as he is inside you, his hips nestled against your thighs, his body hovering over yours, it feels like you two are made for each other, perfectly adapted to each other. Feeling his hips between your thighs, him deep inside you, feels so right. You're so aroused and excited, your pussy twitching around his cock even before he moves inside you, eliciting a surprised moan. Hunter starts to move, slowly pulling his hips back and thrusting again.

As he speeds up, the bed beneath you begins to squeak in time with your movements, but neither of you mind. Soon the squeaking is mixed with the sound of bare skin meeting bare skin and the wet sound of his cock drilling deep into your pussy again and again. The friction of his pubic bone is right on your clit, the perfect combination. Your legs wrap around him to pull Hunter closer to you. Your hands wander hungrily over his strong back, his shoulders, and down his neck. He holds your gaze captive with his, penetrating deep into it as he moves inside you. The intensity increases steadily, exponentially. You can't look away, your faces so close together, your breath mixing, your panting and his huffing. However, as you near climax, your pussy tightening around his cock, his eyes roll back, he squeezes his eyes shut, you see his jaw muscles working and feel his thrusts become erratic, his thighs trembling with tension. Sweat gathers on his forehead "F-fuck... where? Where do you want me to-" You don't answer his question verbally, clenching your legs tighter around him, pushing his body tighter against yours as a result. Hunter tears open his eyes, a half-stuttered moan coming out of his mouth as your entire abdomen tightens, the pulse of your orgasm taking him with it. Shortly after, you feel him cum inside you, his seed filling your cleft. Two, three more lewd sounding wet thrusts into your filled pussy, and he stops, breathing heavily.

His gaze finds yours again, and you grin at him in satisfaction. He returns the gesture, then leans his sweaty forehead against yours and whispers, as if he doesn't want to ruin the moment, "I certainly didn't expect that to happen today". "Neither did I," you admit, "But I'm glad it happened." He laughs softly, gently. "Me too" He's still inside you, but you suddenly feel uncertainty rising inside you. "Is it going to happen again?" He chuckles. "Give me about 20 minutes" You say a little more seriously, "That's not what I meant". He lifts his head to look at you, his cock slowly softening inside you, but he doesn't leave your body yet. "You don't want to do it again?" "Yes, I do, but... Not just today." He smirks and says, "I like that thought".

You take a breath and say more boldly than you feel, "I want it to be more than a thought" Hunter looks at you thoughtfully, finally rolling off of you and getting wet wipes out of his backpack that is next to the bed. He helps you clean up, still seeming to be thinking as you wait tensely for a response. Finally, he says, lost in thought, "I never used to worry about that, I never had to worry about breaking that kind of rules." You feel your heart grow heavy in your chest. You watch Hunter dispose of the used wipes, then he lies back down with you, both of you still naked, and covers you both with the wool blanket from the emergency kit you had managed to salvage from the shuttle earlier. To your relief, he doesn't pull back thoughtfully, as you expected. He slides an arm under your shoulders and pulls you close to him. Hunter kisses your forehead, tasting the salt on your skin, and says, "I don't know what you'll face if we get caught, but I, for one, am willing to take the risk of being decommissioned."

Your fingertips brush over his chest, over the tattoo. "Are you sure?" you ask softly. Without hesitation, Hunter replies, "Absolutely sure." You snuggle closer into his embrace, then with a smirk you say, "How long will it take you to get ready for our next round?" He laughs softly, you feel the vibration in his chest before he says, "Just a few minutes, my beautiful."

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just-some-trans-nobody · 3 months

Text

December Christmas Monster stories

17.) Dragon x Knight

Nammot the male dragon falls for a brave male Knight and one thing leads to another. Hope ya'll enjoy, this was my first time writing dragon smut.

Warning: NSFW, grinding, cum, person covered in cum, dry cumming, cock humping, thigh fucking, no penetration sex, gay sex, sex with a dragon, large tounge licking human body, threats of death, meantions of eating humans, possessive dragon, let me know if I forgot any warnings.

Minors Don't Interact!!! You will be blocked immediately.

Word count 2751

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Snow fell around the caves entrance slowly blocking the way if not for Nammot’s fiery hot breath melting it all away each time he let out a heavy sigh. Not many knights would make the treacherous path up the steep hill let alone do it in the snow leaving Nammot rather bored waiting for anything of interest to happen. He wanted a knight to fight, to eat up in one bite and play with his shiny armor adding it to his collection. That is what he told himself, he was waiting for a knight yes but not just any knight. He was waiting for a knight who had called himself Percevale.

Nammot was planning on eating him the first time they had met but instead of drawing his sword when he first laid eyes on the dragon he had greeted him and had even asked for his name. No knight had ever done that to him during his many years of terrorizing the villages and kingdom. It made Nommot pause his fire breath and think for a moment about it, he hadn’t said his own name in so long he had almost forgotten it completely. “Nammot you may call me but not for long little shiny one for you sure will be dead soon.” He had growled out, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he readied himself to hurl his fiery breath at him. “Nammot? A nice name. Does it mean anything?” The knight had asked, confusing him and once more causing him to stop the fire building up in his throat. “Pardon?” Nammot asked confused by the question. “Well my name means to pierce the veil, whatever that means. Names have meaning to it, what our parents hope us to do someday. Or for those who choose their own name it means the path they intend to take.” Percivale explained looking up at the dragon. “Seems your parents wanted you to see the dead.” He snorted sitting down on his hind legs, an action reminding Percivale of how a dog sits. “Heh my parents must have wanted me to be a grave keeper rather than a knight then.” Nammot was absolutely baffled hearing a knight actually laugh and make what seemed to be a joke to him. It was always screams or threats of death upon the king's orders. What kind of knight was he to not attack him but to be kind to him? It surely must have been a trap one he will not fall for. Standing back up he snarled as he for a third time readied his fire breath wanting to kill the knight for daring to make a fool of him thinking he could tick him. Seeing Pericivale reach for something he acquired his shoulder ready for the knight to draw his sword all the more ready to burn him to a crisp but all movements froze when the knight pulled out a small dragon carved from wood. “I made this for you. You always take things so I guessed maybe no one has given you anything before.” He explained holding the wooden dragon up for Nammot to see better and for a third time he cooled the fire in his throat and leaned in close to look at the small dragon held in Percival's gauntlet. His pupils dilated for a movement as he stared at his gift before turning back into slits as he leaned back. “Ahem your offering will suffice, I shall not kill you this time but if you come again I shall not be as kind.” Nammot sneered as he held out his large scaled paw for Pericivale to drop the wooden item into.

The wooden dragon now sits on top of his hoard, his prized possession though he never admits it. Percivale came back again and again, each time with a gift for Nammot, each time Nammot said he would surely kill him the next time they met but never followed up with his threat. Between their meetings the longer Nammot waited the grumpier he got, he didn’t like waiting for his devoted follower as he liked to call him. Percivale liked to call him his friend, though Nammot would scoff at the words but never correct him about it.

As the seasons changed to winter Nammot now waited for Percivale to visit him, growing more and more impatient. “This time I really will kill him if the cold doesn't do it before he gets here.” The moment Nammot had muttered those words he had regretted it. What if Percivale had really died and he just didn’t know him. The thought of losing his only friend struck his heart like a piercing arrow. This feeling only grew worse as the hours turned to days, still Percivale didn’t show. Nammot wallowed in his grief thinking his little knight was dead. That is until one day as Nammot was sprawled out letting out soft whimpers the sound of clanking footsteps froze him in his tracks. “Percivale?” He called sitting up staring at the entrance of the cave with baited breath but as the figure drew closer and made no sound Nammot grew worried it wasn’t him and some other knight had braved the mountain in the winter in hopes to catch the dragon off guard. Standing up Nammot readied his fire breath growling as his eyes narrowed.“Ah did the day finally come when you surely would kill me?” a voice called up, almost bringing Nammot to his knees. “Oh my knight!” He wailed out before clearing his throat trying to compose himself. “I mean oh it’s you… thought you were some other foolish knight here for me to feed upon.” Nammot said, puffing his chest out as he looked away. Percivale knew Nammot was embarrassed, he could read that dragon better than Nammot would have liked him to be able. “Ah yes of course, you must be starving with so few knights to eat. They’re all trying to avoid being out in the cold.” Percivale said with a shiver of his own. Smiling under his helmet he walked over to Nammot, not afraid of the dragon in the slightest and plopped down next to him. “What did you bring me this time, my devoted follower?” Nammot asked leaning his head in closer, he knew nothing of personal space and was almost pressing his large head against Percivales armored body. “Food.” He stated looking through the bag he had brought. “Dried meat, it lasts longer. Though with your size I would say this is more of a snack than a few days' meals as it would be for me.” Percivale laughed, taking out the large pouch of meats. Nammot opened his mouth in a silent demand for the knight to feed him. A demand Percivale followed with no second thought to it, just opening the bag and dumping the contents into the dragon's mouth. “Mind if I take my armor off? I worked up a sweat in the cold and now all my clothes are wet from it. It’s very unpleasant.” He started the long process of taking off all his armor, one Nammot nodded his head not caring at all. Dragons were always naked. Why would he care if a human was too?

He found himself watching Pericivale undressing in the corner of his eye, he was trying to act like he didn’t care in the slightest but this had been the first time he had seen the knight take anything off past his helmet and Nammot was a curious dragon. Humans had such an interesting body. They were no dragon of course, such puny things but Nammot found himself admiring Percivales body. Turning his head to look at him better Nammot watched Percivale spread out his cold wet clothes onto the stones in the cave in hopes the dragons heat would dry them. He was unaware of the glowing eyes scanning each scar and blemish on his body as he moved around naked in the cave.

A gush of cold winter air blew in from the cave's entrance causing Percivale to shiver as it bit at his exposed skin. That wouldn’t do, Nammot couldn’t have his devoted follower suffering from the cold. Letting out a displeased snort, Nammot swept his tail around Percivale pulling him in closer to his much larger body. He pretended he didn’t see the wide grin on Percivales face as he sat down leaning against Nammots stomach. It felt strange to him to have someone touching his weaker under belly. It was a great sign of trust for a dragon to show their underbellies let alone let someone be pressed against it but he had that trust for his little human. The two stayed like that for a few hours until Percivale drifted off to sleep curled up against Nammot. He watched the sleeping knight admiring eyes, how does a human like him feel so comfortable sleeping so close to a dragon? “Silly little human.” Nammot whispered, gently nuzzling his face against Perivicales, laying his head down, closing his eyes drifting off into a slumber of his own.

It was a peaceful rest until the sounds of quiet wimpers woke Nammot up. Lifting his head up he looked to Percivale with worry thinking he had hurt him by mistake in his sleep, gotten to careless and shifted his weight onto him crushing him, or maybe nicked him with one of his talons. Seeing Percivale was still in one piece with no crushed bones Nammot tilted his head and leaned him pressing his nose against his trembling form. Maybe he was cold, was that it? Nammot blew a small amount of his breath onto him hoping to warm his little devoted human. It didn’t stop the shivering or the whimpering much to his dismay. Frowning he gently nuzzled his nose against him. Sure enough that stopped the sounds that were causing Nammot distress. Sighing he relaxed and nuzzled him again as he slowly closed his eyes drifting back to sleep. His hot breath caressing Percivales body with exhale. After a while the hot careesses drew too much for Percivale, soft moans left his lips as his dreams turned from the earlier nightmares to sinful thoughts of desire. Nammot slipped into a lighter sleep state hearing the moans, he mistook them for the whimpers from earlier so to comfort his little human he nuzzled him again adding fuel to Percivales burning loins. He moaned much louder at that, waking the both of them almost immediately. Pulling back with wide eyes Percivale looked away, his face turning a bright shade of red as he did his best to hide his lower half. Nammot looked at him blinking a few times as the gears in his head started to turn, still a little slow about it until he finally took in the scent of his arousal. “Oh.” He said with a dry throat only able to let out the one word. “How indecent of you.” Nammot thought his teasing was clear but he froze when he noticed Percivales eyes had started to water at his words. His heart sank at the sight. Letting out a soft rumble Nammot pressed his nose to him nuzzling him once more. “I didn’t mean it like that silly little thing.” He hummed, sending vibrations throughout Percivales body. His tongue slithered out giving Percivale what was meant to be a comforting lick across his body, Percivale didn’t take it that way and moaned feeling the hot muscle drag up his body from stomach up to his chest coating him in drool. It wasn’t originally what Nammot was going for but it was an outcome he didn’t mind. His pretty little human made such lovely sounds. Wanting to draw out more he licked him again causing Percivale to gasp and writhe against the feeling. “What are you doing? Nammot stop it.” Percivale whined as his back arched. “If you wish it.” Nammot whispered, pulling back, he watched him with greedy eyes wanting to taste more of his flesh. Looking up at Nammot Percivale let out a soft whimper as he held eye contact with the dragon.“Do it again?” He whispered embarrassed by his words by controlled by his lust. Nammot smirked as he leaned back in pushing the knight's legs wide open with his nose as he stuck his tongue back up licking his crotch up to his neck causing Percivale to let out several gasps and whiny moans. The dragon let out a moan of his own, tasting the sweat on Percivales body. His skin tastes like sweet nectar and Nammot was almost tempted to take a bite but reframed himself from doing so. Letting out a moan Percivale pushed his hips up against Nammots tongue begging for more from the dragon. Leaning back Percivale noticed a shape to his side that wasn’t there before. Turning his head to get a better look his eyes widened seeing the dragons unsheathed cock. “By the gods I think that might be bigger than I am.” Percivale said in both shock and awe.

“Do you like it?” The dragon asked with a cocky tone, the smell coming from Percivale already gave him his answer. Rolling onto his back Nammot stretched out showing off his cock. “I assume you know what to do.” He said as if it was obvious and Percivale should be able to read his mind. “What? No, no I don’t know what to do. I’ve never fucked a dragon before!” Percivale exclaimed geturing to Nammot and his cock causing the dragon to frown. He was hoping Percivale knew what to do, he hadn’t fucked a human before, he hadn’t the fantiest idea on how this could work. “Climb on top of me and grind against me, it’s why I was licking you duh.” Nammot stated as if it was a fact and not him pulling something out of thin air. Percivale let out a soft oh as he stared at the dragon's cock. Gulping he climbed up his hip and straddled Nammots monstrous cock the best he could. It was burning hot, almost too hot for Percivale but the moment his cock touched Nammots he let out a long moan. Holding onto the ridges of Nammots cock for support he started to move back and forth rubbing his thighs and cock against him to simulate them both at the same time. Percivale was worried at first he wasn’t doing a good enough job as he stared at the unmoving dragon. Nammot wasn’t making a single sound, not even blinking. Just breathing heavily as he watched him with unsatiated hunger. Moving faster Percivale let out a louder moan as his back arched. Still Nammot made not a single sound, he dared not to as he didn’t want to miss a single lewd sound Percivale made pleasuring himself on his burning cock. The sounds and sight of Percivale would be his most cherished treasure for all times, he knew that already. Feeling Percivale grow slower Nammot growled and grasped his waist in his clawed hand holding him as he rutted his hips against him taking control of the situation. “Keep those pretty legs wrapped around me.” He ordered letting out a moan. Percivale gladly followed orders and squeezed his legs against the dragon's cock. Nammot wasn’t sure how long this went on. By the time he had his fill of orgasms both his stomach and Percivale was covered in his sticky cum. Percivale was dazed and panting, his last three orgasms he had been cumming dry, completely spent and having lost track of them long ago. Letting out an over-stimulated whine Percivale looked to Nammot with tear soaked eyes, neither had realized he had been crying from the amount of pleasure he had been feeling. “I don’t have anything left in me.” He said almost pleading to Nammot who nodded his head in agreement. “Nor I.” The dragon said, lifting the knight up, setting him onto his chest. Percivale let out a soft whine but snuggled into him almost immediately. “Wouldn’t mind if this became a regular thing when I visit you.” He said letting out a winded laugh drawing a rumbling laugh from Nammot. “If this becomes a regular thing I don’t think I would let you out of my cave.” Having Percivale live there sounded rather good in that moment, Percivale silently agreed with it too, he could get used to living like this.

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dramaqueeenamby · 1 year

Text

Easy | T'Challa Udaku

A/N: My god, BP2 was such an emotional ride. This is a product of all of the emotions I'm still reeling from. I have not written for BP in probably a year+, so I apologize for the rustiness.

Warnings: ANGST.

Words: 3K

You can find my other works HERE.

++++++++++++DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER++++++++++++

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Loving him was easy.

Maybe too easy.

Maybe things would have been easier if he wasn’t so easy. So easy to admire, so easy to be drawn to, so easy to feel an ungodly amount of love and adoration for.

But maybe that was just T’Challa. With his beautiful smile and brilliant mind, few paths seemed to lead to some place loveless. He was the embodiment of attraction, from the way he spoke, to the way he conducted himself, to the way he loved.

Yeah….easy seemed to be unavoidable.

A small smile makes its way to your face as you reminisce on your first meeting all those years ago.

“Would you just tell me already?”

Nakia simply looks over at you with that same bored yet tempted expression. “And ruin the surprise? Never.”

She laughs, clearly amused by your frustration, by the lack of patience for which you’ve still struggled to fully comprehend.

You’d just completed your War Dog training and had been assigned to Nakia, to shadow her on a few missions and prove that you were ready for your own assignment. It was a perfect partnership, as Nakia matched your wit and sense of humor, both of which had definitely gotten you in trouble more times than you’d like to admit.

“How about a hint?”

“How about no?”

Your eyes narrowed as you nudged her. “You are enjoying this.”

“Somewhat,” she admits. You share another look before giggling together when a firm voice from behind interrupts your moment.

“Forgive me, ladies.”

“You are not forgiven,” your response is natural and instantaneous, a small smirk playing on your face. “Matter of fact, you should know better than to sneak on two lad–” The smirk drops and your ridicule is cut short by the dark eyes and curious gaze of the crowned prince who stands before you.

If Nakia was amused before, she was delighted now. You can feel her eyes still focused on you as she bumps you with her hip. “Y/N, you didn’t finish your statement. How rude.”

Your glare could burn two holes into the princess as she shakes her head and returns her focus onto Prince T’Challa.

“Yes, T’Challa?” It’s in the most random, unexpected moments that you remember while Nakia is your friend, she is also royalty. Perhaps it’s something you should commit to memory, especially given how you’ve just completely disregarded all protocol for the future ruler of Wakanda.

Finally able to pick your eyeballs off the ground, you find that T’Challa’s gaze is pinpointed on you. “Nakia is correct. It is improper to finish your statement…..”

He trails off, and you realize he’s searching for your name. Slightly dejected and still embarrassed, you answer, hastily adding a “your grace” onto the end. For good measure and respect.

He simply makes a sound before repeating your name. It feels so strange hearing your name on his mouth, strange but also….right. Shifting your stance, you’re thankful when he finally reirects his focus to Nakia. Memory of what was said between them was lost years ago, but the initial butterflies in your stomach upon your first meeting have always stayed with you.

You pray to Bast they always will.

Rolling your shoulders, your fingers dance across the fabric on your skin. It’s a piece you’d acquired since moving to Haiti. Your fingertips stroke the intricate pattern, and just like that, you’re hit with memories of laying in bed, naked, a sheen of sweat covering your back while the same fingers dance across his chest.

There are too many times that this occurred, but it’s somewhat easier to recall one of the later moments.

The silence rattles you, not because you can’t handle it. It’s because you know underneath it lies turmoil, It’s present in the way he entered you, rough, desperate, lost. Lovemaking with T’Challa was always anything but that, maybe the first of them at times, but never the latter two.

Your hands flatten against his chest, gently curving inward to draw his attention. He doesn’t move to look down, but you know he’s listening.

“Talk to me,” you implore, licking your lips. “There’s so much more room out here, my love.”

He says nothing but you feel the scoff underneath his strong chest. “There is already too much out here.”

“Nay,” you lean to kiss the underside of his jaw. “You underestimate the space, kumkani.”

Finally, allowing you a glance of his dejected expression, he counters, “and you underestimate the weight, Isithandwa.”

Sighing, your hand travels to his face. “You didn’t know, T’Challa. None of us did.” If you’re being honest with yourself, it’s still nearly incomprehensible to believe that King T’Chaka was responsible for the murder of his own brother as well as the abandonment of his nephew, T’Challa’s cousin, the man who seemed hellbent on revenge.

But not for poor reasons.

Still, the fact that so much of this falls on T’Challa, who has barely had time to mourn the loss of his father, your heart aches for the pain he refuses to show but you know he feels.

“And we cannot change the past,” you continue, though vaguely unsure of yourself. T’Challa has always been the better of you two when it came to wording things in a way that was equally beautiful as it was helpful. “But, we can make decisions now that will help us create a better future.”

“Built on what? Lies.”

“No….” Again, your hand movement shifts to his hard abdomen, as your fingers offer comforting, circular movements. “No, my love, the lies stop with you. You will be the change that will usher in a new era for Wakanda, a better era, for us all.”

Instead of the incoherent sounds you usually receive, his hand on your back tugs you just a little closer. “You have such unyielding faith in me.”

You sit on his words for a few seconds before answering thoughtfully. “I’ve questioned many things in my life, T’Challa, but not one of them has ever been you. Not your ability to rule, to protect, not even to love.” A beat. “Now I’ve maybe questioned your fashion choices at one point or another, but Shuri’s influence will hopefully start to rub off on you.”

A small yelp escapes your mouth as he flips positions so that he’s hovering over you. Your gazes lock as he lowers himself, stealing the gentlest of kisses before resting his forehead against yours. Your hands cradle his cheeks as he kisses both of your palms before shifting downward and laying against your chest. Your arms cocoon him, protecting him, offering a solace only found within your safe embrace.

“I love you, T’Challa. Never forget that.”

You once believed that the five years without T’Challa, having lost him to the Snap, was the most difficult thing you’d ever had to endure.

Clearly….clearly you were wrong.

It starts with a cough.

Nothing persistent or chronic, more inconsistent and light than anything. Probably nothing major enough to raise an eyebrow from anyone else. But you knew T’Challa, and you knew the many benefits of the heart shaped herb.

He didn’t get sick, and more importantly, the black panther didn’t get sick.

A small part of you pretended that it wasn't an issue. You were comforted by the fact that he’d been ripped away from you for five years and returned. What more heartache could possibly outweigh that?

But then the cough was no longer as infrequent, and along with it came a sort of dullness in his normally bright eyes. He seemed….weary.

You knew the weight of returning after being gone for so long weighed on him, but this….this was different.

It was also concerning, as he would come and visit at least once a month, the two of you no longer able to steal moments in time as often as you once did. You were both older now with even more responsibilities than ever before. So when he came to visit two times in a row and you noticed the same dullness, your concern definitely spiked.

It was late, and the two of you were just getting into bed. He’d only just pulled back the blankets when you finally asked.

“How long do you plan to pretend that everything is alright?”

He stands upright and his jaw ticks. “What are you talking about?”

Deflection. T’Challa never deflects. Your concern increases.

Moving across the room, you stand directly in front, looking up at him. “You know exactly what I am talking about.” When he says nothing, your hand lifts to his cheek. “Please talk to me. I am worried.”

“It’s nothing.”

“What is it, T’Challa?” Moving closer, you lay yourself against his chest, mindful of how he hesitates to reciprocate your embrace. “I need you to be honest with me.” A beat. “Or maybe I just need you to be honest with yourself.”

His body tenses underneath the weight of your own as well as your words. And finally, he answers, “something has been…..plaguing me.” Looking up, he immediately goes into comfort mode. “It is nothing to worry about, Isithandwa.”

His eyes betray him, and you can’t help how your own water. “How close are you to a cure?” His silence is the answer you don’t want to hear. It’s an answer that is not the security of promise and hope that you need in this moment.

“Y/N–”

��What-what does Shuri think?” More silence. Your eyes naturally widen. “You have not told her?” His lack of an answer adds another layer of panic as she painfully realizes, “you have not told anyone….”

“There is no need to worry anyone, Y/N.”

“But I am worried, T’Challa!” You whisper harshly, mindful of your volume as not to disturb or let alone awake the last person who needs to be hearing this conversation. “Do you not think I have not noticed how long this has lasted? You have been sick for weeks, months maybe, and if there is no cure in sight, then who is to say you will get better?”

He shakes his head, cupping your face. “Aye, listen to me.” The tears are falling, and his thumb goes to brush them away. “You once told me that you have never doubted me. Do you remember this? Hmm?”

Sniffling, you manage to nod and murmur, “yes.”

Relieved, he tucks you into him, his chin resting on the top of your head. “So trust me now, Y/N. Have faith.”

His words still haunt you, still bring the sting of tears to your eyes and the sharp flash of pain in your chest. Realizing that the man you love has limited time left on earth is a pain like none other. But watching him gradually decline, knowing that there’s nothing you can do….that is a hurt too explosive to even describe.

For his sake, you both acted normal. Same smiles, just a little dimmer. Same laughter, just an octave lighter. Same love, not a damn thing different. Some days you wonder if that was for the better or for the worse. Was it staying and operating out a state of denial? Could you have maybe delayed it, prevented it even if there was more of a sense or urgency?

Because even when you both sat him down, when you were finally honest about T’Challa’s condition, about where his path was leading him, it still felt bitterly hopeful. Like it was a maybe instead of a definitely.

Maybe this will happen, instead of this is going to happen.

But you also knew this wasn’t a decision that you could make by yourself. And truth be told, it wasn’t even a decision T’Challa could make, which disgusted you. How could a man like T’Challa, your sweet, kind love be subjected to such a cruel ending? An ending so unbecoming of the majestic man that he was.

This is when the anger kicks in, the rage at having him taken from you not once, not twice, but three times. Why the hell did you all have to be dealt such a vile card? What travesties could you have done, could he have done to deserve this ending?

In the final weeks, days even, items were dropped or were thrown, tempers were short, clearly, and interactions felt so much more heavy. You still beat yourself up for being so consumed by your own emotions that maybe you weren’t present enough for him when he needed you the most.

That also happens a lot, that feeling of it not being enough. Not enough of him. Not enough of you all. Not enough time.

Not enough of…..anything.

And then that ceremony, the damn goodbye that he decided would be just for them, that was the moment you realized that T’Challa wouldn’t be returning for another visit. This was the last time, and it broke you. Of that night, you don’t remember much, just the absolute agony and grief that tore through your entire being. It’s such a blur, but the pain felt is a constant.

That last goodbye…..even reflecting back on it is too much to bear, too much to try to swallow. Maybe someday you’ll be able to dwell on it….but now….now is too soon, much too soon.

What does stand out is the days following the notice you received that he’d passed on to be with the ancestors.

Washing the dishes was the last thing you wanted to do, but the dishwasher was giving an error code, and you couldn’t bring yourself to seek out someone who could fix it. Especially when that someone you would usually call is no longer available.

Wiping at your face with the back of your hand had become a habit, one that had caused the skin on your face to become tender, harsh even from the constant friction. But the final straw was dropping the glass plate in your hand onto the floor, shattering all over the tile.

You cursed, leaning down to gather the pieces only to not pay close enough attention, accidentally slicing the palm of your hand.

Hissing loudly, you lifted your arm, observing the blood leave the open wound. You do nothing to stop it, watching it continue to spill, even aiding in the process as you apply pressure around the area. It’s a fruitless effort though, because the physical pain is nothing in comparison to your emotional pain.

Overcome with that same emotion, you bring yourself to your feet and storm out the door, running toward the beachfront.

T’Challa always loved the water and wanted you two to be away from everyone else, both for your comfort as well as your privacy and overall safety.

Falling to your knees, your hands brace against the grainy sand as a loud, guttural, visceral scream erupts from the deepest part of your soul. But, it’s not enough. So you go again. And again. And again. Continuing to scream until your voice breaks, as does your resolve.

Now on your side, sobs rake through your entire body, you wails bouncing off the waves of the water.

It’s both comforting and suffocating. A release and a limitation. A blessing and a curse.

“How-how could you leave me?” The question is posed to no one, to everyone, to anyone who will listen. “How could you leave us!” The interrogative nature quickly transitions to a demanding tone, a plea, a beg for mercy. “You said-you said to have faith, and I–I did.” You continue to wail, shaking your head. “And where are you now? WHERE ARE YOU, T’CHALLA?”

Stomach throbbing and eyes burning, your vision is blurred by pain, but you manage to twist your body when small but firm arms wrap around you and a body is pressed against yours. The familiar smell of shea and cocoa butter fills your nostrils as you look down and nearly cave again.

“I’m right here, mama,” your son’s words hit you deeper than anything you could have imagined. And another wave of tears overcomes you as he repeats himself and holds you even tighter. “I’m right here.”

You’re not sure if Challa, as both you and T’Challa took to calling him even when he was still in your womb, will ever be able to fully comprehend the depth and importance of his words. His comfort in that moment pulling you from a darkness you’d never encountered. A darkness you’re not sure you would have been able to save yourself from without him.

It’s been roughly a year since that night, that evening where your greatest blessing saved you from your greatest battle. And every day is a struggle, there’s always moments where you find yourself encountering a memory, missing a touch, yearning for that love.

But then Challa will smile at you, and you’re reminded that death…is never the end.

You remember that loving T’Challa was always so easy because it was inevitable.

“You’re always with me, my love,” you speak upward, smiling softly. “And you always will be.”

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