#fledgings get the job done

[fauna-and-floraa]

King the Land has been such an interesting watch for me because I went into it expecting a festival of every romance cliche under the sun, and I was right- They have had pretty much every classic romance trope and yet? It feels fresh. They consistently do things I didn't expect, the story and characters are much more mature and interesting than I initially thought they would be, they could have indulged in a lot more cheap drama for dramas sake but they didn't. It's an absolutely cheesey fun ride but the emotional through line of the series hits so well.

[hannieehaee]

HOW SWEET

18+ / mdi

summary: after years of an unspoken fight between you and your self-proclaimed enemy, you find yourself forced to work with your life-long rival, kim mingyu, as your father offers him a position at the family bakery. with such forced proximity and endless arguments, how are you supposed to cater to your duties when mingyu's presence brings so much tension to the kitchen?

content: baker!mingyu, enemies to lovers, pining, one sided crush that becomes two sided!, afab reader, smut, teasing, semi public sex (its done in a public establishment but no one is there), breast play, food play (frosting on tits basically), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.4k

a/n: i know nothing about cooking or about how a bakery runs so please take everything here with a grain of salt and just enjoy it for what it is: self-indulgent smut

masterlist | patreon

Twelve years.

Twelve years dedicating yourself to your craft, attending summer camps, taking elective classes, paying for extracurricular classes, working summers at your dad's place, making all effort known to man, yet this is how it all ended.

Maybe claiming this to be the end was slightly dramatic, but that's how it felt at the moment. As you stared up at your dad and the excuse of a man standing next to him, far too cocky for you to allow your anger yo subside.

Today had been an average day. Throughout your life, you were content to admit that most of your days could be categorized as good, especially after years of having found comfortable employment at your father's renown bakery soon after high school (thank you nepotism). Attending culinary school whilst managing a part-time job at your dad's place had been anything but difficult. It was quite an easy and enjoyable job, one in which you could proudly say you'd had the chance to grow up in.

Your father had owned the place since before you could even walk, building it up to become a favorite in your city. Business was always booming, and it just so happened to fulfill your passion for baking — one which your dad had obviously passed down to you, but you weren't complaining. You occasionally took up shifts during high school, only becoming a full-fledged part-time employee during university, recently graduating and upgrading to full time. Life was good and steady.

So, it was fair to say that most of your days were good.

However, there was the occasional day that was ruined by the mere presence of a particular individual.

You hadn't meant to dislike him as much as you did. Anyone who knew you could vow for your likable personality and charismatic demeanor, meaning it was difficult for you to bump heads with people (at least most of the time). But there was just one particular person who made your blood boil from the day you met him. It had been so long ago, you couldn't date back the moment — nor the instance — in which your dislike had begun brewing. Fortunately, the dislike was completely mutual. You didn't have to feel like an asshole for scowling at the man any time you saw him, because you were usually met by a mirror of your expression or an annoyingly frustrating smirk — similar to in this moment.

The frustrating man in question was none other than Kim Mingyu, the resident heartthrob and well known for his passion and talent for baking. Hatred for the insufferable man aside, his abilities as a baker, and chef in general, could not be denied. The mere implication of praise made you gag, but you liked to think you were mature enough to admit talent when you saw it. This was something you'd never verbalize, however, knowing the man to also be one of the cockiest people you'd ever met.

There were a myriad of reasons as to why your current predicament ruined not only your day, but likely many upcoming ones. The main reason could be boiled down to the smile on Mingyu's face as he stood to your father's side. The cockiness emitting from him was enough to get your blood boiling and to create a carnal desire within you to beat him to a pulp.

The reason for his smile, however, was what truly took the cake.

Within the past moments in which you'd been processing your father's words, you remained silent and stagnant before them, leading your father to repeat the cursed sentence once more.

"Mingyu's going to be working with us from now on," he'd said with an innocent smile on his face, unknowing of your feud with the man in question.

Everything had come crashing down in that moment, but any more silence from you would mean Mingyu won this round, which was something you simply could not have — even under these circumstances.

Shaking all the anger and hateful memories from your head, you straightened your back and morphed a smile onto your face, one good enough for your dad to buy and for Mingyu to be unable to judge. Your hand extended as a courtesy, offering itself to Mingyu as a form of welcome, something which your father likely expected from you.

"In that case, welcome to the team," you spoke for the first time, sweetly enough to grant you a satisfied smile from your father. The poor man was blissfully unaware of your dislike for Mingyu, so no blame really fell on him for his blind decision.

Grasping your hand in his larger one, Mingyu shook hands with you, satisfied smile still on his face, "Looking forward to working with you," he said, far too content for you to not want to take him out back and-

"I know you kids already know each other from back when you were in school, so it should be easy for you to show him the ropes, right, kid?", asked your dad, interrupting your violent thoughts.

Your head whipped to him, "Show him the ropes?"

"Yeah. I was thinking you could train him? He's already an amazing baker, but maybe he should shadow you for a few weeks. You know, just in case," your father clarified.

Mingyu's close-lipped grin grew wider somehow, almost as if the knowledge of your discomfort at being around him overpowered his own dislike of your presence.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, dad," you found yourself agreeing against your will.

Your dad clapped his hands once in satisfaction, then proceeding to patting your back in encouragement as he tended to do.

"Thanks, kid. Well, I'll leave you two to it," he then turned to Mingyu, "Welcome to the team, son. Y/N here will show you where you can get your apron and give you a general overview of the place before your first day tomorrow," and with that, he made his exit.

Behind, he left a fuming you and an overly pleased Mingyu. Silence filled the room for a few moments until you found it vital to curse out the infuriating boy in front of you.

But, as per usual, he beat you to it.

"Happy to see me, cupcake?"

God damnit. You forgot about the annoying nicknames he'd insisted on calling you by since meeting back in high school.

Cupcake, baby, sweetheart, sweetiepie, babe, honey, darling. And these were the more tame ones. You did not want to think about the instances in which he'd called you hot stuff or sexy in public. They'd led to public displays of aggression you weren't exactly proud of.

"I thought you were studying culinary abroad. What happened? Got yourself kicked out?," you grumbled, walking over to the back of the restaurant with him following close by.

"Nope. Just decided my expertise could be used back home. And clearly since you seem to be the best they got around here."

It was as if he was allergic to not bugging the shit out of you.

You turned to face him, blinking harshly at the unexpected proximity before taking a step back and responding to his smirk with a frown, "Listen, Mingyu. You heard my dad. I'm in charge of you. If you disregard my authority, I won't hesitate to send your ass running. Do you understand?"

This made his grin grow bigger for some reason. Knowing he was getting under your skin was great for his entertainment.

"Yes, ma'am," he bit his lip in amusement.

Training Mingyu was entirely unnecessary.

To your disdain, he was actually quite good at what he did. It was as if baking was second nature to him, just something he'd somehow been born with.

And worst of all, everyone else working at your dad's shop seemed to notice this and could never let anyone forget.

Every day there was one or another form of praise for Mingyu. Whether it was regarding his baking or his people skills, Mingyu was practically employee of the month as far as you were concerned — despite having been around for only a week. He was an overachiever as always, and it unfortunately always worked in his favor.

Mingyu, as per usual, basked in on the constant praise. He was a social butterfly at heart. Everywhere he went, he left with at least one new friend.

You were suddenly feeling alienated at your own family's business.

"What's with the sour face, pumpkin?" he nudged your shoulder as he joined you on the counter, needlessly helping you frost some cupcakes.

"You're ruining my life."

Okay, that might've been a tad dramatic.

"I've followed your every rule. I'm literally the perfect employee."

"I meant with your presence."

"Princess, I thought we were done with this whole 'will they, won't they' thing. I think what you're feeling might just be sexual frustration."

You puffed out some hot air in frustration, not bothering to look at him as you continued to do your work.

"Do you think my father would fire me if I strangled one of his employees?"

He pretended to ponder over it with a hum, "There's way more fun things you could do to me with your hands," was what he settled with.

"Is flirting with me your new method of torturing me with your presence?"

"Nope. Just decided to find a new approach to make my interest known."

He'd said it so nonchalantly you'd almost missed it. It made you halt your movements, allowing Mingyu to fully take over on what you were doing.

"What?"

"This can't come as news to you. I've been flirting with you since middle school," he kept up his nonchalance, not even looking at you as his eyes remained glued to the task at hand.

"Flirting? You call being the bane of my existence for the past twelve years 'flirting'?", you gaped at him, regaining your snark back and snatching the half-frosted cupcake from his hand.

"Everyone else sees it," he shrugged, "You just need to catch up."

Then he left, putting his hands on some other part of the kitchen and leaving you to ponder on that.

Was this supposed to be a confession?

It was entirely too cliche — competitors turned enemies due to circumstance, with one of them being hopelessly in love with the other.

God, that was a dramatic way of putting it.

It has been suggested by other people in the past. Onlookers, classmates, friends, you name it. Everyone had at some point suggested that Mingyu might have feelings for you (or you for him). That your rivalry was born out of that dumb cliche. Pulling at a girl's pigtails to get her attention.

Maybe it seemed that way from an outside perspective, but your disdain for Mingyu was genuine, and you were certain the feeling was entirely mutual.

You couldn't imagine the thought of Mingyu actually being in love with anyone, much less you. The guy was far too in love with himself to allow room for anyone else. Plus, all past interest he'd shown in you had been through insulting you and getting in your way. What was he, seven?

This was probably just another way of getting in your nerves. There was no reason for him to suddenly confess, after all. He'd already gotten a job at your dad's bakery — the most renown in town. What else could he possibly be after?

You scoffed at the thought, opting to put it in the back of your mind as you finished off the last few cupcakes and boxed them to prepare them for pickup.

Turning around with the boxed cupcakes in hand, you just so happened to make eye contact with Mingyu as he prepared some dough across the room. His annoyingly short sleeves gave perfect view of his strained arms as he battered at the mixture.

You let your eyes wander to his muscular arms for a mere half second, but that was enough for Mingyu to catch you with a smirk and a wink, flexing a little extra just to piss you off. Your eyes rolled as you looked away, but you were pretty sure you felt yourself flush a bit.

Mingyu's looks had been something you'd always attempted to ignore, but fuck, you suddenly felt all the more aware of them after his stupid confession.

Confession, if you could even call it that.

~

It didn't take you long to entirely disregard Mingyu's mind games. No stupid allusion to a crush would get you out of focus, especially not now.

Upon your return from being away at culinary school, your dad had begun instilling more and more trust in you to take care of the shop. As time passed, he'd occasionally be absent in order to test your skills as a trustworthy employee. You were sure even more responsibilities were to fall on your lap soon, and you were hopeful that was the case. You'd performed well so far, and Mingyu's presence was not going to deter that progress.

That instance, however, had not been the only time in which Mingyu decided to mess with your head. Gone were his boyish attempts at bothering you, the many that you'd gotten used to throughout the years. No, now he'd decided to play nice. He decided he'd be helpful and some sick version of charming that would have any other girl swooning.

But not you. You knew better. You weren't sure what game he was playing at, but you weren't going to fall for it like every other person in his vicinity.

Sure, maybe you looked like a dick to everyone else around you, constantly shooting Mingyu down when he'd try and help you out in the kitchen, but they didn't know about your history together. Mingyu had always made it so that you'd be painted as the mean girl. He'd get in your way, sabotage you, question your skills. But he'd always do it in an ingenious way that left you dumbfounded, looking ungrateful and just plain mean.

So when he suddenly decided to play nice, both for any onlookers and for you, it was difficult for you to actually take him seriously.

But still, you couldn't deny the effect his confession had had on you. You might've disregarded it as a simple play of his, but it still remained in your head, itching at you every time he so much as walked into the bakery.

"Sup, babe. Need help with that frosting?"

Speak of the devil.

Not even facing away in a lone corner of the bakery as you worked on a menial task could he take the hint.

"What are we making?", he tried again, now invading your personal space as he peaked at what your hands were working on.

"Is silence an option?"

"You know I'll just keep bugging you til you answer me. Make it easier for the both of us."

His head was now low enough for his chin to rest on your shoulder. His annoyingly strong arms were resting on the counter in front of you. One of them was conveniently rounding your body as he reclined on the counter. It was a pain to admit even to yourself, but the proximity made you lose focus.

God, what was wrong with you?

You'd always known Mingyu to he attractive. Sue you, okay? But his annoying personality was always in the way of any possible attraction you could've had for him. It wasn't until his stupid, idiotic, unnecessary, unprofessional, annoying, fake confession that you'd begun feeling this way. His constant suggestive stares and proximity were not helping your case either.

"Hmm, you need more strength. The consistency's gonna be all off if you do it like this. Here, let me ..."

Then his hands held onto yours, guiding you as you whisked the butter into a creamy consistency.

You couldn't even react. Your fight or flight reaction failed you, instead choosing to freeze at his touch.

Had you ever touched his hand before?

"See? It's like this. You should just use the electric whisk, that way you don't need all this strength- Oh, shit, am I hurting you?"

He backed off a bit, taking note of your frozen state. Fuck. If he noticed you were actually flustered, you were done for.

"No, just get off me, god," you huffed as a cover.

Mingyu scoffed at this, going back to helping you upon realizing he hadn't actually been doing any more harm than usual.

"You make it kinda hard to be nice sometimes, you know? But that's fine. I'll keep doing it. When you least expect it, you won't even remember hating me anymore," he sounded sure of himself.

Now was your turn to scoff, hands working on the frosting despite Mingyu practically doing all the work for you, "What makes you so sure?"

He took a moment to himself to chuckle.

"You're breaking down. Two weeks ago you never would've let me this close to you," he leaned right into your ear for the next part, "It's nice, isn't it? When you're not in denial?"

That's when you finally pushed him off, huffing at his boldness.

"I'm still your boss. Get your ass out of here and get to work."

That was the best cover you could come up with. He had been right. You'd been letting him get away with more and more as the days passed, and now he was messing with your head.

"Yes, ma'am," he was smirking. Your back was facing him, but you knew him well enough to know.

The job in front of you was practically done. Anything else would be overkill and you knew this, but he'd gotten into your head again. His mere presence had distracted you. Again. And the worst thing of all was that he'd been right. You were wearing down. Becoming more susceptible to his flirtatious advances and even forgetting why you hated him in the first place.

Mingyu had never deliberately hurt you in all those years you'd known him, nor had you him. In reality, it had all been a childish feud you'd grown far too used to to ever let go. But at the same time, giving in to him made you feel weak. You couldn't let some stupid charm break you down so easily.

You had to stay strong, even if that meant embarrassing yourself in front of Mingyu every once in a while.

The next development of your reaction to his shamelessness had been the worst. It made you feel like you were existing outside your body, watching yourself slowly crumble under the extra attention he'd been giving you.

By this point, not only were you constantly flustered at his proximity, but you found yourself affected even when he wasn't around. All it took was a few more suggestive glances and the occasional gracing of skin as a lame excuse to pass by when the kitchen was crowded to get you thinking about him outside of work.

You'd even come to dream of him, waking up at 3AM in a cold sweat, gasping for air at the vivid memories of what'd he'd done in your imagination. Seeing him after such instances made you an even bigger mess in the kitchen. It affected your work at times, causing you to require even more unwarranted help for him, thus being in closer proximity and continuing the endless cycle.

The first time it happened was the worst of all. You hadn't known how to handle it. How to behave around him when your mind was clouded with false memories of a Mingyu that didn't exist. It was your first time embarrassing yourself in front of him. Your usual collected demeanor, able to fire back at him without a second thought, was frozen in place.

You'd avoided him all day, knowing you'd lose focus the moment you met his eyes. The way he'd touched you in that dream was between you and God. Even if you liked to deny it, Mingyu was a smart man. He'd trace that look in your eye right back to dirty thoughts and never let you live it down.

Avoiding him was your only option.

But, of course, that was entirely impossible in such a small kitchen. That, and you were pretty sure god just didn't like you very much.

It was an accident. You had practically ran from him the moment he stepped foot in the bakery. You'd even managed to avoid you must of the day, but when your eyes accidentally met, you freaked out, dropping the batter you'd been making in the process.

It had, of course, caused a huge noise, halting everything else happening in the kitchen as Mingyu rushed to your side. You'd gotten your shoes dirty, with some batter even making it to your legs. It was fortunate you'd been wearing a knee-length dress, or else you would've needed a change of clothes.

Unlike what you'd expected, he didn't mock you. He got attention away from you, picking up after you and taking you to the back in order to help you clean up. You were mortified, knowing that the cause of the mess had been the same boy kneeling in front of you, cleaning you with a few rags he'd taken from the kitchen.

Even your current predicament made you blush. He'd been on his knees in your dream too.

"Are you okay? You haven't said anything all day."

He broke the silence, finally looking up at you as he continued to rub at the leftover batter on your legs.

You looked away immediately. This was not a sight you could handle right now.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure? I won't make fun of you. You've already given me enough ammunition, but I held back," he joked, "C'mon. Is something bothering you?"

Letting your eyes find him again, you gulped. His furrowed brows told you he meant it, but you were too distracted by everything else about him. He was wearing a very short-sleeved shirt, and his muscles popped a little extra due to their grip on your leg. The world just wasn't on your side today.

"Just distracted today, I guess."

"Oh. Well, can I take advantage of that, then?", he smiled, "I know I'm the one kneeling, but maybe I still have the upper hand."

He got up then, having finished cleaning you up. He then leaned down, hands on his knees to meet your height as you sat down. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, almost as if he'd been reading your thoughts from the moment you walked in today.

"Are you distracted enough to say yes if I asked you on a date?", his fangs showed as he smiled.

Your eyes widened.

"What? What are you talking about?"

You didn't even process the words. Your mind was still busy thinking about him on his knees.

"No? Okay, I guess I'll try again tomorrow," one of his hands reached to your own, tracing it with his thumb teasingly before standing to his full height again, "I'll break you down soon enough. I'm sure you're aware of that."

With that, he left, clearly satisfied that he'd somehow numbed you. You weren't sure if that was the result of his usual cockiness, or if you'd been too obvious in your avoidance of him today, but it still made you flush.

He was right. He did have the upper hand.

It'd now been a little over a month since Mingyu had begun working at your father's bakery. It had also been only a month since his confession, which had been accompanied by endless heat on your cheeks and an embarrassing burning in your stomach.

Mingyu's flirting had persevered, with a mixture of subtle physical contact, pet names, longing stares, hell, he'd even caught you in a back hug a few times (his large frame dwarfing you from behind was something you prohibited yourself from thinking about after such instances). It was safe to say that you were now pretty convinced that your original assessment had been wrong.

Mingyu did genuinely like you. And he was not shy in his attempts to make you his.

He'd been nonchalant about it, but he'd asked you out a few times so far. When you'd reject him, he'd only chuckle, biting his lip and eyeing you up and down before leaving with satisfaction in his eyes. It was like your constant rejections kept him going. It was driving you insane.

Knowing someone like Mingyu — tall, handsome, intelligent, accomplished, etc. etc. etc. — was so into you was breaking you down little by little. It was safe to say that your attraction to him had grown with the passing of time. There was just something about his insistence that got to you (that and the yummy packaging he happened to come in).

It was winter at the time, which usually came accompanied by lots and lots of business. Whether it was for winter themed celebrations, or the holidays themselves, you received personalized orders quite often. Sometimes you'd even have to manage all the catering when it came to sweets.

Winter also came with its downsides. Such as sickness going around. The kitchen just so happened to be a place small enough for sickness to spread quite quickly. And it just so happened that most of your staff had fallen ill, including your father, who usually liked to oversee this specific time of the year with a watchful eye.

Down to four people, you'd have to handle most of everything on your own for at least the following week.

And, of course, Mingyu just so happened to be one of those people. That left you with Mingyu, yourself, the delivery boy, and some poor unsuspecting soul who'd have to bare witness to the tension that'd undoubtedly fill the bakery while you and Mingyu were there almost completely alone.

It almost made you feel bad for them.

Almost.

"Well, Lucy called in sick. It's just you and me now," was the first thing Mingyu said upon clocking in, already tying his apron behind his back — always tight enough to show off his godly form.

You had already been freaking out at the consistent decrease in healthy employees. This did not help your nerves at all. You were sure the grimace on your face must've shown it.

"W-what? Lucy's gone? We can't get all this work done with only three people, much less just us!", you felt yourself start to freak out.

Mingyu crossed the threshold of the kitchen then, hands going directly to your shoulders to direct your attention to him.

"Listen. I graduated with honors in culinary school, and so did you. We got this, okay? Your dad trusts you to be in charge for a reason," Mingyu reassured.

For once, there was no flirtation or teasing in his voice, but instead compassion.

Somehow, he managed to calm you down immediately. You almost fell for the care in his eyes and initiated a hug to express your gratitude.

Almost.

Snapping out of it, you took his hands off your shoulders and stepped away, huffing out an awkward 'yea, thanks' before walking over to get your own apron. All you got from Mingyu in response was a chuckle, leading you to believe he'd noticed your flustered state.

Whatever. You had more pressing things to worry about today.

~

Three hours into the day, everything was more calm. You'd gotten over the biggest hurdles of your current orders. There were a total of three large catering orders to fulfill, seeing as you'd closed down the shop due to illness suddenly falling to literally all of your employees.

As of now, you and Mingyu had a pretty good handle on it. You'd managed to work smoothly with each other while you didn't bicker.

Currently you were working separately, you decorating the frosting of a mass amount of cupcakes for a winter wedding while Mingyu stood at the opposing counter and worked on the cake, quietly humming some tune as he did so. It was calm and quiet. Quite odd for the two of you.

Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you. But you remained focused.

"You're kind of slow at this."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him.

"I could help you," he sing-sang.

"Are you done with the cake already?"

"What can I say? I'm the best at what I do."

"Is this your plan to get me to like you back? Bug me until I break down?", you finally let yourself look to the side, being met with the sight of a very pleased Mingyu.

"Oh, no, I have way better plans for that."

He didn't say anything after that. Not until you felt a huge presence wrap itself around you from behind, once again taking a hold of your hands and beginning to guide your movements as you frosted the cupcakes with their intricate designs. You weren't sure why you let your body be limp and allow him to do as he wished, but you did so anyway.

Your body worked against you, leaning into him as he got closer to you by the second. It wasn't long until his mouth made it close enough to your ear, breath hitting it and resulting in a barely-there shiver.

"See? It's easier when I help you. Not so bad, is it?", he murmured.

You used your shoulder to nudge him away, creating some distance between you and scoffing at his boldness. You shuffled a few steps away, leaving him leaning against nothing as you continued to do your work. Maybe you were weak, but you would not let yourself fall so easily. That'd mean giving him all the power.

"C'mon. You know this isn't one sided. I've seen how you look at me," he chuckled in disbelief.

You continued to give him the cold shoulder while he took a spot next to you on the counter, a smirk on his face as you petulantly ignored him. It was clear to you he was entertained by the concept of chasing you. It was unfortunate that you also kind of enjoyed it.

Mingyu scoot over more and more by the second, not bothering to be subtle at all.

"So you're saying that these past twelve years have been a genuine feud to you? You actually hate me?", he didn't believe the words as he asked him, disbelief in his tone.

"Shut up, Mingyu."

His body fully faced yours now, only able to see your side profile as you continued to stubbornly work, your attempts in ignoring him decreasing by the minute.

"Well, it wasn't like that for me. I always kind of hoped we'd both come back home from college, fresh and new, and completely forget about the stupid games we played when we were kids," he took a few steps forward, "And I know that you want the same thing. Maybe you didn't plan for it to happen, but now you're changing your mind about me. I'm not an idiot. I know you better than you think."

"It's not like that," you finally turned to face him, exasperated, "It's the forced proximity. You're just getting in my head and-"

"Am I?", he cornered you once again, hands stopping your own from their movements.

"Or maybe I've always been in your head," he turned you to face him, completely crowding you against the counter and leaving not an inch of space between you. Your middles were connected and your chest went up and down in such deep breaths that your upper halves were almost touching.

"I think you want me too. And I think you never really hated me. It was all just in your head. Just a sick amount of sexual tension hidden by some stupid rivalry," his hands locked around your wrists, placing them flat on his chest as he dared lean down.

Contrary to the cold, unaffected facade you wanted to present to him, you gulped up at him. He'd been right with the 'sexual tension' bit. It had been bugging at you for days now, invading your time alone and even, on occasion, your dreams. And now that he stood so close to you, acknowledging that much as he stared down at you with full intent on following through with whatever tension was filling the room at the moment ... it had you heating up, to say the least.

But still, that stubborn part of you at the very back of your brain still insisted on attempting to hit the brakes one last time — even if it was the last thing you actually wanted to do.

"Mingyu-"

"You know, you've never actually rejected me. You've told me you hate me, that I'm the bane of your existence, that you hope I get fired, but you've never actually told me to stop," he interrupted, "So. Tell me. Tell me to stop. Tell me that no part of you wants me back and I'll stop."

He looked at you with a mixture of conviction and self-assuredness in his eye. As if he knew what the outcome of his challenge would be.

A few silent seconds passed. Your body was not cooperating with your mind. The former wanted to pull him down, close the distance and damn any work you had left to do. The latter, though, prevented you from even speaking. Your mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.

Mingyu tilted his head to the side in amusement before putting you out of his misery. One of his hands left the counter where it had been bracketing you against it, coming up to your chin and tilting it upwards, challenging you even further.

"I know you. I know that stubborn brain of yours won't let you admit to defeat. It's one of my favorite things about you," he breathed against you, face close enough that his airy voice landed directly on your lips, "Which is why I'm going to do this for the both of us."

Nowhere in your mind had you ever expected Mingyu to kiss you softly. Up until a month ago, you had never even entertained the thought of it ever actually happening (except maybe once or twice in passing — moments you'd buried deep down due to your burning dislike for him). It didn't come as much of a shock when the first kiss he'd given you was filled with more passion than your body could handle.

Mingyu pressed up against you, with an aggression that suggested any amount of space between you offended him. His hands went to your waist, ensuring there was no escape from this (not that you wanted any). And in a similar fashion, you mimicked the fervor of his kiss, hands already pulling at his hair and earning groans of pleasure vibrating into your mouth.

It was very reminiscent of your relationship. It was a competition. An attempt to show the other who was better, who was in charge.

But as per usual, Mingyu just so happened to get the upper hand.

His lips traveled down to your jaw, finding your neck and leisurely making a home there. Heavy breaths were released by the two of you as you attempted to catch your breaths. Mingyu had started panting out words, but it took your brain a few moments before it could begin processing words after that kiss.

"Fuck ... Can't fucking stand being around you. You drive me insane," he groaned when his hips couldn't help themselves but begin a slow grind against your own.

You still couldn't say anything. Only embarrassing mewls and pathetic excuses for his name would leave your lips as his hands felt you up, the simple movement of his hips already making you lose your mind.

"Made me work so fucking hard for this," his lips found your ear, one had tilting your head to the side so he could bite and the lobe and lick at it teasingly, "But it was all worth it ... Look at you, being so nice and pretty for me."

A sigh left your lips at his whispers. Had your brain been at full function, you would've argued back, would've maybe tried switching your roles and taken charge. But, as embarrassing as it was to admit, turning off your brain and becoming a dumb, brainless version of yourself as he dry humped you to heaven was too enticing to pass up.

His hands made work of both your aprons within seconds, finding comfort under your shirt quickly after. The teasing touch of his cold fingers tracing your skin made your breath hitch, but still no coherent words left you. You continued to be limp against the counter, happy to be sandwiched by him.

"'m just gonna take this off ... Okay, baby? ... Yeah, see? Fuck, so pretty. Show up to work with this pretty thing? Shit ..."

That's how you ended up shirtless in your parents' bakery, a pretty lace number covering your breasts while Mingyu pawed at it with awe. His lips trailed down to your chest, kissing at the bare skin with a starved demeanor. Hands continued to play at your clothed breasts, with your hardened peaks receiving just enough stimulation to have your head falling back.

Mingyu nosed at your skin. His kisses were endless despite the limited skin available. Your mind felt dizzy at such stimulation so close to your nipples. You were aching for more.

Your back arched, pressing your chest closer to his lips and mewling when he took the hint, wrapping his lips around your nipple through the thin fabric of the bralette. Teeth toyed teasingly at you through the cloth, but it still had your eyes fluttering.

Fortunately for you, Mingyu was just as desperate as you for more direct contact, which led him to ripping off the flimsy piece of lace separating him from your breasts. A gasp was all you could do to complain, too distracted to actually scold him for his carelessness when his hands began to teasingly toy at your bare tits, giving you some stimulation, but still not what you were truly aching for.

But as soon as he started, he stopped, pulling an annoyed whine from you.

"Gyu-"

Disregarding you, he reached over to the frosting you'd been working with before he interrupted you. Swiping a few fingers through the cream, he brought his hand forward, causing your eyes to follow it as if entranced.

His movements led you to believe that he wanted you to suck the cream from his hands. Something which made you pulse down south, as embarrassing as it was to admit. But before his fingers reached your awaiting mouth, he redirected them towards his own, humming in exaggerated bliss as he sucked at his own fingers, eyes zeroing down on your face.

Your eyes may have expressed some annoyance, but you both knew you were aching for him.

"Mm, it's good," he hummed, "Wanna try?"

You made it. You knew it was good. But you nodded regardless. You wanted to taste it. Taste him.

He kissed you again, tongue going directly into your mouth and passing any remnants of it from his tongue to yours. Meanwhile, you froze, shirtless, waiting for something, anything else, while he abused your mouth with his tongue.

Embarrassingly enough, you couldn't help but try and suck any sweetness out of his tongue, moaning into his lips as he reacted to you, a slight smirk forming against your face.

"Good, huh?," he smiled satisfied once he pulled away, "But I think it'd taste better if I ..."

Then you felt a sudden coldness on your chest, making you gasp at the cold feeling on your burning skin.

The bastard had smeared frosting on your tits.

Your breath became even heavier than it already was. The falling and rising of your chest said everything your horny brain couldn't muster out. And similarly, Mingyu's breath hitched at the sight, eyes glued directly to your tits with eyes that told you he was pained to not have you in his mouth at this very moment.

So then he remedied that problem.

He started off teasingly, as he always did. His tongue was tentative as it made contact with your cream-battered nipple. The tip of his tongue circled at it, finishing off with what you could only call sheer desperation as he wrapped his mouth around it, suckling at it until nothing was left and refusing to stop there.

One of his hands gripped at your waist harshly, insistent on keeping you folded against him while the other held onto your tit, angling it towards his mouth so he could continue uselessly cleaning it from the mess he'd made. The same happened to your other breast, licking, biting and sucking to the point where you had trouble remaining standing.

"Tastes way better like this," he mumbled with a mouth full of tit.

You'd never seen him like this. So depraved and insistent on making out with your breasts. The usually put-together Mingyu was gone, instead replaced by what embodied the spirit of a hormonal teenager. His groans of pleasure made your head fall back, acting as if he were the one receiving the pleasure. Multiple times he went back for more cream, teasing your nipples with his fingers as he smeared it on you before continuing to clean it up with his tongue.

"Fuck. Thought about doing this so many times. All the dirty, depraved things I've been wanting to do to you in this kitchen," he sighed once he took a break, puffing out a warm breath against the abused skin.

Your head was fully empty by now. There was nothing but hot air swimming up there. Mingyu had made you a useless version of yourself, uncaring about the poise you were supposed to display in your workplace and only wanting to offer yourself up to him to do whatever he wanted.

His lips trailed their way up, hands replacing where his lips had just been, and reconnected your mouths, humming in pleasure at touching you. His hips began moving with yours, forcing you against the counter while your tongues squelched with one another.

"Wanna fuck you. Do you think your dad'll fire me if I fuck you in here?"

"Don't care," you huffed, hands going to his jeans and haphazardly undoing the belt, "I'll fire you if you don't."

He chuckled mid kiss, "Don't worry, pretty. I'll fuck you. We're going to have to work overtime cleaning up from all the dirty things I'm going to do to you."

Aiding you in the removal of his pants, he lowered them just enough to pull his dick out of his boxers, groaning when you took hold of it and began playing with it. The size had your eyes rolling. You'd always assumed, on lonely nights under your sheets, that Mingyu would be well endowed. He was a perfect 10 in every other area of his life, so of course he'd have a big dick. But knowing that the monster you were currently holding in your hand — not even able to circle your entire hand around it — would be breaking its way inside you made you shudder.

In retaliation to your touches, he did the same to you, forcing your pants down to get easy access to your wetness and groaning when he found a mess under your panties.

"This wet, baby? Just kissed you a little and you're this wet for me? I thought you hated me," he gave you a cocky look as his knuckle pressed onto your clit, adding some pressure as he circled it.

You gasped out your response, calling him a dick and squeezing at his tip to get him to shut up.

He must've either taken the hint or taken it as a challenge, opting to readjust his hand so he could push in two fingers, managing to push you onto the counter whilst finger fucking you. The speed of his fingers was precise, hammering in and out of you and curling at the perfect time, hitting that one specific spot inside you that made your voice go a few notes higher.

You couldn't form any words, barely able to keep working him in your hand either. You were completely lost to the pleasure, especially when his mouth climbed back down and went back to your overly sensitive tits. They were swollen and completely abused with spit, but his attention was still more than welcomed.

"Need you to cum before you take me, okay, pretty?," his request was muffled against your breast.

"Want it now," you whined, hips uselessly grinding into his hand.

"Shh. You'll have it, pretty girl. Just, fuck, need you to cum for me just this once, okay? I'll give it to you, I promise. I'll give it to you and never stop," it was easy for Mingyu to lose himself in his dirty talk, but you adored every word that left his lips. He could threaten you with pleasure all he wanted, you'd take it the same way you'd taken all his snark against you all these years.

When he introduced another finger to the mess between your legs, you finally came. You were sure the sight was as messy as it felt, your body arching impossibly closer to the source of pleasure, head thrown back and internment gasps leaving your lips. Your fingers dug into his muscles, unsure of when you'd clawed his shirt off but thankful for the access to his skin.

You were welcomed back to reality by uncharacteristically soft kisses pressed to your neck, moving their way up to your cheeks and then your lips, ending with a pleased hum.

Your eyes finally opened, taking in the boy in front of you, practically fully nude and with his skin now full of scratch marks (courtesy of you), skin sweaty and hair an after-sex mess.

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot."

He chuckled at your bluntness, eyebrows raising in amusement.

"Yeah, pretty. I think you're pretty hot too. Always thought so. Prettiest girl I've ever seen," he managed to turn it into something soft despite the shared knowledge that his aching cock was currently pressed against your thigh.

"You'll fuck me now, right?", you put your arms on his shoulders, pulling him towards you with seduction in your eyes.

"Y-yeah, I- shit, yeah, baby."

Scooting to the edge of the counter, you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him as close as physically possible before reaching down to his hardness. His arms held onto your legs, pulling you towards him and angling your hips so your cunt could face him better.

Deciding to be a tease this time around, you held onto his dick, circling his tip around your clit and sighing at the hot, wet stimulation, earning a similar reaction from him.

"Hmm, fuck. Put it in before I lose my mind."

That was good enough for you.

It took a few moments to get his torturously big length inside you, earning constant cries from you followed by grumbles from Mingyu. He buried his head in your neck, suckling at your skin any time you pulsed a little harder as he intruded inside you.

"Warmest fucking cunt, god," he sighed, "Been wanting to feel you since high school ... Prettiest cunt, oh, fuck. Can I move? Hm? Need to move, baby, tell me I can."

This was the first time you'd ever heard Mingyu beg. And as much as you wanted to bask in it, maybe get him on his knees, pleading to get his fill of you, you were far too gone to do anything more than whine at him to move, to break you and render you useless.

Your mouth dropped open when he began hammering at you, hands wrapped around your thighs and pulling you as close as possibly. His inhuman strength managed to move your body in sync with his thrusts, doing all the work himself as you became a limp doll for him to use. All you provided were cries of his names and red lines drawn down his back. But he seemed to enjoy it. Each scratch, each squeal of his name was met with groans and with an extra harsh thrust into you.

"G-gyu, fuck, just like that. Oh, fuck, please," you had no idea what you were pleading for, but you needed more.

You'd never felt this needy. Never felt such a carnal necessity for a man like you did for Mingyu. It felt like a full circle moment. Your disdain for Mingyu had left you weeks ago, replaced by a sheer thirst for him, but not only sexually. Even as he humped into you, you felt an sense of completeness from being in his hold.

And then, before you knew it, your second orgasm consumed you, causing you to tighten around him and earning an uncharacteristically high cry from him. His hips sped up, desperate to reach his own high, hands practically pulling you off the counter to push your hips against his own. The repetitive slapping of skin was loud and resonated into the empty room.

"Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna get you all pretty and creamy for me," he huffed out between breaths, "Wanna see me dripping down your legs before I clean it all up for you."

And he fulfilled his promise, squirting his cum deep inside you with a groan of your name. Once finished, he finally deflated against you, loud as he attempted to regain his breath back.

There was some silence for a while. Maybe because you both needed time to learn how to breathe again, or maybe because you were both still in shock at the intensity of what'd just happened. Regardless, you held onto each other, uncaring that you were still very much naked in what was supposed to be a public place, creating a safety hazard in your workplace.

"Well, that was ..."

"Yeah," you agreed.

He pulled his head away from your neck, offering you a bashful smile. His hands stayed on you, though, caressing at your skin with a contrasting softness.

"Does this mean you'll go on a date with me, or am I fired for jumping you in the kitchen?"

You laughed, genuinely so. This was probably one of the very rare times in which you did so in front of Mingyu, but you meant it. No longer did you feel like scowling at his presence.

You realized now that his feelings had been mutual. Too many half-baked inferences to his feelings were had in the throes of passion for you to question it anymore.

And maybe the feeling was mutual.

"Yes, Mingyu. I'll let you take me on a date."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, mentions of previous semi-public sex, nipple play (m receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (frosting), etc.

wc: 426 (teaser); 2007 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"I'm very proud of the work the two of you did last week," your dad began, "The workload was too big for two people, but you two managed to get it done. Great job."

When your dad had called you and Mingyu over for a private meeting after last week's events, you had to admit, you were terrified.

After that first day alone playing around in the kitchen and wasting perfectly useful frosting in activities you could never reveal to your father, you ended up having to work the entire rest of the week alone with Mingyu. And it was safe to say that the events of that first day repeated time and time again. The two of you made use of the empty space, disregarding any possible health violations.

Fortunately, your fears of your father possibly finding you out were alleviated by his sudden praise.

You had to agree. It was surprising that you and Mingyu had been able to get all that work done. Not only due to the impossible amount of work, but also because of the constant distractions you provided for the other.

Standing next to you, you could feel Mingyu's enormous sigh of relief at your father's words. Before making your way into his office, the poor boy's tanned skin had gone pale at the paranoia of what was to come.

"Maybe when this one takes over for me, you could he her second in command," he turned to Mingyu with a smile, "The two of you make a great team. And for your hard work, I'd like to give you the day off. Full pay, and you can also take one of the leftovers cakes from last night."

Before you could respond with wonder, your dad spoke up again.

"Here. Take my car keys. You kids go have fun," he patted your back as he walked away, leaving the two of you in his office as he went back to the bustling kitchen.

The two of you stood there, not having expected such sudden reward. It had only been one day since everyone came back to work, joining you and Mingyu with the heavy workload that always accompanied winter, yet you were suddenly being offered time off and free pastries.

"I think your dad wants us to have se-"

"Don't finish that sentence," you slapped at his chest, earning a wince.

"I mean. A car, money, cake? Do you remember what we did last time we had cake at our disposition? I ate it off of your-"

"Mingyu!"

"Okay, fine!"

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[witherby]

*raises hand* more littlest Wayne please 🥺

You got it!

The Littlest Wayne: Jason's Experience

You're a weird baby.

At least, that's what Jason thinks. You don't really cry about anything, you don't whine much except when you're maneuvered uncomfortably or rudely woken up from a nap before you're ready. But even then, it's almost a complaint for the sake of complaining, and not really a full-blown fit.

( It's great for allowing your new, vigilante family to sleep through the night. Horrible for their collective paranoia, which makes them get up to check and make sure you're still breathing through the night anyway. )

You're not deaf — Bruce had you taken in for a full examination and health screening while the ink on your adoption papers were still drying — so that's not why you're quiet, either. Aside from being a touch underweight, likely from whoever cared for you before, it seems like you just don't have much to be upset about.

Jason thinks that weird as fuck. Nobody is neglecting you or anything, but there are times where the lack of hunger cues make one of your brothers realize you haven't eaten since breakfast, or that nobody has checked your diaper in four hours and you've just been chilling in a wet nappy. This makes his monitoring of your general well-being increase ten-fold, to the point that he's the one that spends the most time with you aside from Bruce.

Dr. Leslie insists that some babies are just Like That. Alfred does, too. Their lack of concern helps him be less concerned. But it's still there. Surely there's something a baby would cry about; you're a fuckin baby, and that's, like, your primary job besides eating and sleeping.

He finds out that there is, in fact, something to cry about when he comes back from a week-long job as the Red Hood, having needed to leave the Manor to track down a criminal organization quickly gaining traction that he didn't like the looks of. When he wraps up the last of those loose ends, he steps into his apartment in Crime Alley and digs out his personal phone, switching it on to find dozens of messages from Bruce and his brothers.

Replacement: Dude, u need to get back here ASAP when ur done. The babe is straight tweakin

Eldest Daughter Syndrome: Heyyy lil wing 👋 no rush no rush, but swing by when you've got a sec! Our newest member misses you 🍼

Ninja Wannabe: Todd, your presence is required. Father's newest ward is screaming incessantly without you to entertain their mindless brain. I've retreated to Bludhaven to spare my ears until your return.

B: Stay safe, Jaylad. Adjusting to you being gone is a little tough for the baby, as I'm sure your brothers already told you. I just want you to know that there's no obligation to hurry back. They're okay, and the screaming isn't as bad as everyone is making it out to be.

Alfred: Good day, Master Jason. There is an entire batch of double-fudge brownies with your name on it upon your safe return. Best wishes.

You must be screaming the manor down if Alfred is bribing Jason with junk food, let alone a whole tray of it. He hurries out of his armor with half-concern, half-amusement, showers, then speeds off. In less than an hour, he's pulling into the driveway and parking his bike, and Tim was not fucking lying when he texted him.

Turns out it was good that you weren't a huge crier, because you had pipes that put opera singers to shame. When Jason steps inside, the faint, high pitched whines he heard through the door turn into full-fledged wailing. It's just a matter of following it down a couple corridors before he reaches the day room, which was recently repurposed into one of your play areas. He locks onto the image of one very distressed Dick, face flushed and cotton stuffed in his ears as he desperately jangles a set of plastic keys over your body.

"C'mon, baby bat," he croons, sounding near tears himself, "I dunno what you need. Calm down, honey, please."

You lie on a playmat in front of Dick, paying the toy no mind. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears are running down your cheeks, your face is ruby red, and your tiny fists are clenched as tight as possible as you kick your legs and wail, and wail, and wail some more. It would be impressive if it weren't concerning.

"Whoa," Jason blurts, stepping fully into the room. Dick spots him and slumps with visible relief, like a puppet with cut strings. "They've been like this the whole time?"

"They were completely fine the first day! But next morning, we saw them looking around for you, and...well." Dick gestures helplessly to your thrashing form. Jason tuts and scoops you into his arms, wincing a bit at your shriek, and starts to gently bounce you.

"Hey, there," he mutters, "what's all this now, weirdo? You didn't have me around to spoon feed you gross baby mush or wipe your butt, and now you're making it everybody else's problem? Huh? That's rude as hell."

Your cries continue a little while longer. Jason continues to talk to you, to call your antics silly, to soothe you, until you finally crack an eye open and register just who it is that's got you in their arms. You stare at Jason kinda like he's an alien, brows furrowed and nose scrunched, but then your wails dissolve into sobs, then little hiccups, then just the occasional sniffle. One of your hands unclenches to latch onto his shirt instead, and you mush your face into his chest.

And you just. Completely stop it. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Damian had fallen all over themselves for days trying to soothe you, and a couple minutes of staring at Jason had completely eliminated the problem.

"You gotta move back to the Manor," Dick blurts from where he remained on the floor, wide-eyed and hands clasped together. "Please come back. Please. I am begging. On my hands and knees if you need it. I will do all your chores for the next year. Do not leave again."

"Not my fault I'm the favorite," Jason huffs, but the protective way he holds you, the concerned way he's checking over your face and throat to see if you hurt yourself crying for so long, the continued bouncing he does for you, all points to him moving back home. He makes the arrangements the next day.

And if Jason makes sure future missions he has to go on don't last more than two days, well, that's no one's business but his own.

You're still a weird baby, though. Even if Jason being your favorite is pretty cool.

[connorsui]

“Believing in love”

Sylus x fem! reader

Synopsis: Amidst the dazzling lights of a futuristic city, you confront your fears of love

Genre/warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, soft sylus, reader who doesn't believe in the concept of love, emotional trauma, vulnerability, discussions of betrayal, past trauma for reader, sylus just wants to love you for you and nothing else, hurt/Comfort, emotional healing, small fluff, slow burn, hints of trust issues

Note: okaaayyyyyyy I went overboard this was originally going to be a short imagine ..like maybe five hundred words or less with the concept: “I don't believe in love” and “I'll show you what it can be” – I wasn't planning on this to be a full fledged one shot…but hey …I ain't gonna complain any further my brain is just doing its job ✨️

w.c: 1.8K

The city hums beneath you, a symphony of noise and light, but your mind is far from the chaos below. You keep your gaze fixed on the skyline, as if it holds the answers you can’t seem to find. Beside you, Sylus’ breath is ragged, his desperation barely concealed as he clings to your wrist. You can feel the tremble in his fingers despite the firmness of his grip, as though he’s trying to hold you together—or perhaps, to keep you from drifting away.

“Why do you always attempt to leave me? What is it that I’m doing wrong?” His voice is soft, almost pleading, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor. He’s searching your face for something—anything—but you remain still, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.

He clutches you tighter, not forcefully, but in a way that tells you he’s afraid you might vanish into the night, just like the countless times before. The emptiness in your silence gnaws at him, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracks, the word nearly lost in the wind. “I’m not one to beg, but if it means I’ll get an answer from you, then I’ll lower myself.”

You glance down as you hear the rustle of fabric, your eyes catching the sight of Sylus sinking to one knee. A proud man, reduced to pleading. The weight of his devotion presses down on you, suffocating in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I wish for an answer. Any answer from you.”

But still, you say nothing. The flood of emotions you’ve buried for so long stirs within you, threatening to overwhelm. The city lights blur in your vision, turning into a kaleidoscope of glowing orbs, and suddenly, your throat tightens. You want to speak, but the words are tangled in your chest, caught in the rising tide of emotion.

“It’s… it’s not that I wish to ignore everything you’ve done,” you start, your voice shaky and weak, barely audible over the rushing wind. “It doesn’t mean I hate you, or that you're not trying hard enough. I care for you. I do.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribs, as tears, hot and unrelenting, streak down your face.

“I want to love you, Sylus. I want to be near you every day, to feel what it means to love someone, to truly understand it. But I…” Your voice cracks, the word foreign on your tongue. Your chest tightens, the familiar sting of betrayal flashing in your mind, the memories you’ve fought so hard to suppress now rushing back in vivid detail.

Before you can break down any further, Sylus pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you like a shield from the world. His warmth seeps into you, steadying you amidst the storm inside.

“Shhh… it’s alright. Come here.”

His voice is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself relax in his hold. You breathe out slowly, though each exhale feels labored. Your chest rises and falls as you try to calm the sobs threatening to tear through you. His hands gently cradle your face as he wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, his touch delicate but firm, as if assuring you he won’t let go.

“I’m scared…” Your words spill out between quiet gasps, your chest heaving as you finally let out the weight you’ve carried for so long. “I’m so scared, Sylus. I’ve loved before, countless times… and neither time was it ever given back.”

Sylus' embrace tightens, his chin resting atop your head as he rocks you gently. His voice, though calm, carries a raw edge of determination, as though he’s willing his words into reality.

“I can show you what it can be,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll show you what love should feel like, what it should be… No one in this entire city is more deserving of that than you.”

His hand rests against your back, moving in slow, soothing circles.

“I just need you to believe in me. let me show you that I can give you the love you’ve been searching for.”

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your chest, pushing against the wall you’ve built around your heart. For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the quiet murmur of the city below, and the cold wind that carries the scent of the night sky. Moonlight bathes the two of you, casting silver across the rooftop as if the world has stilled for this one moment.

And though the fear still lingers at the edges of your mind, something shifts within you. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his touch, or the sincerity in his voice. But for the first time, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility.

Yet he keeps himself steady, his grip tightens—not out of force, but from desperation, as if he’s holding on to more than just your body. He’s holding on to the very idea of you, of the two of you.

“I don’t need you to say you love me, not now, not in this hour, not tomorrow” he murmurs into your hair. “I just need you to trust that I will. That I already do.”

His words pierce through the walls you’ve spent so long building. The fortress around your heart cracks, letting in the first tendrils of warmth you’ve felt in ages. You try to push him away, afraid of being vulnerable, but his hold remains firm—not possessive, just secure. Safe.

“But Sylus—” you whisper between breaths, your voice breaking.

“I’m not like you. I don’t know how to—how to do this. Every time… I let someone in, they ripped pieces out of me until there was nothing left to give...so, even if you say you love me… what can I give you..when there's nothing? ”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His red eyes soften, the intensity that so often burned with dominance now a smoldering ember of understanding.

“You think there’s nothing left to give,” he murmurs, “but every broken piece of you is still yours to offer. And I’ll take them, even if they don’t fit together perfectly. I don’t care if you feel shattered. I’ll hold onto every fragment until you’re ready to trust me with the rest.”

Your chest heaves as you fight for control over your emotions, but the more you resist, the harder it becomes. Sylus’s steady gaze undoes you. How could someone like him—so powerful, so untouchable—look at you as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe?

“ — and yet there will be days you think I don’t know fear?” he continues, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t wonder every day if I’m enough for you? That I’ll lose you before you ever truly belonged to me?”

The vulnerability in his words makes you flinch. You’ve seen Sylus command entire fleets, face enemies without a trace of fear, and yet here he is, baring himself before you. It’s too much—too raw. But it’s also exactly what you needed to hear.

“I’m not a perfect man, and I won’t pretend I am," he adds. "But I will never stop trying for you. Not for a second or an hour or a day of my life"

His thumb brushes the last of your tears away, and for a moment, all that exists is the sound of the wind whipping around you, the lights of the city flickering beneath your feet, and the quiet hum of your hearts—one racing, the other steady.

You finally exhale, the weight of your emotions loosening its grip just enough for you to speak again.

“What if I’m broken?” you choke out. “What if there’s nothing left that is untouched for you to love?”

Sylus’s lips quirk into a sad but tender smile.

“It doesn't matter if any part of you is left …untouched ” he says softly. “When I mean I would love ..you ..I mean you .. Every part of you…that I have fallen in love with”

His words settle into you like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t realize were still bleeding. You’ve spent so long believing that love was something to fear, something that would eventually turn on you and leave you empty. But Sylus is showing you a different kind of love—one that doesn’t demand perfection but offers patience. One that doesn’t expect you to be whole but promises to stay, even when you’re not.

Your body, tense and guarded for so long, begins to relax in his arms. You close your eyes and lean into him fully for the first time, allowing yourself to be held—not because you’re weak, but because, for once, you don’t have to be strong.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other as the city continues its ceaseless rhythm below. The cold air bites at your skin, but neither of you care. Not when the warmth of Sylus’s embrace keeps the rest of the world at bay.

Eventually, you speak again, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than before.

“I don’t know how to let go” you admit.

Sylus shifts slightly, enough to look into your eyes again.

“And, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m not asking you to forget anything that has happened to you then or anything that has happened to you in the months or years away. I just wish for you to allow me to be part of your future.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away this time. Instead, you let the weight of his words sink in. He isn’t asking for grand promises or declarations. He’s asking for a chance—a chance to be the person you turn to, the one who stays when others would leave.

“Would you allow me?” Sylus asks softly, almost pleading.

“Can you let me in?”

There’s a long pause as the world around you holds its breath. Then, finally, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I’ll try.”

And with that, the dam inside you breaks. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love again.

Sylus would show you how much you mean to him ..✨️

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Can I ask a wuestion?

What iif tenjikud girlfriend beaten up by their enemies after their rough fight. I wanna know see their reactions. Especcialy İzana and ran

Tenjiku When Their Girlfriend Gets Hurt By A Rival Gang

♡ SFW, angst, fluff, fem reader, violence against reader and random gang, murder but not anything detailed, Tenjiku members getting their getback ♡

note: yes anon, you may ask a "wuestion" lol

note 2: I've been ultra busy lately, essays, research papers, group projects, applying to jobs and all that jazz lol, things have been good tho

note 3: I put Ran and Rin together, scenario works for both regardless of which brother you're with

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Whoever hurt you must've had a death wish, you think Hanma is the grim reaper? Nothing compares to Izana running full speed at somebody

🎴 He tracks each of them down and essentially tortures them (as he should)

🎴 He refuses to kill anyone, he just beats them so bad that they wish they were dead

Kakucho

🩷 Kakucho is usually a very calm man, but as soon as he saw you, limping and covered in bruises, it was over for the bastards that messed with you

🩷 Launches a full fledged attack against the other gang and beats the shit out of their leader, then proceeds to use the leader's body as a weapon to beat the shit out of the other members

🩷 Once he's done he rushes home to take care of you, you're his top priority afterall

Ran & Rindou

💜 Whether you're with Ran or Rin, everybody knows that you have both rulers of Roppongi backing you up

🩵 So when you get jumped by a gang that has beef with Tenjiku, everyone in that gang's general vicinity knows it about to be a bloodbath and vacates accordingly

💜 They pull up on them, straightfaced and ready to pop off on whoever hurt you

🩵 Rin's putting them in leg locks and Ran's breaking faces with his baton, they're a duo at heart and tag teaming is their specialty, especially when they're standing up for you

Mochi

🍡 Shion is really gonna be calling him a gorilla the way he went apeshit (I'm sorry that was corny af lmao)

🍡 He's baffled by the audacity those motherfuckers had to put their hands on you knowing you were his

🍡 Puts every last one of them in the hospital, then beats the shit out of the person he had assigned to watch over you because what the fuck were they doing and why did they leave you alone 🤨

Mucho

💙 As soon as you call him and tell him what happened he has Sanzu pick you up and goes to take care of the 'problem'

💙 Comes home with blood on his clothes and acts like nothing happened

💙 He doesn't talk about what happened while he was gone, and you don't bring it up either. You have a shared silence about these types of things

Shion

🩸 Turns into a certified attack dog, but on the outside he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected so he can focus on you

🩸 Gives you all his attention and affection, vengeance can wait because his girl is hurting (future husband lowkey)

🩸 Once he thinks you're okay enough for him to leave you alone, he's speeding to the rival gang's hideout and bodying everybody, zero fucks given

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[wheneverfeasible]

link to prompt

~

Jim rubbed at his eyes which were pained in exhaustion, a headache blooming behind them. He released a heavy sigh before dropping his hand to stare at the nervous and embarrassed adventurer before him. He’d been advised against using the disgraced knight for the job, but Jim hadn’t been able to look past the man’s success rate.

Or the fact that he’d been the only volunteer to go up against the infamous demon lord who had been snatching up their virginal young women for whatever nefarious hell he was submitting them to in his lair.

“I sent you to slay the demon, not—”

“I brought Miss Buckley back!” Steve protested, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the most recent victim who looked just as put out as Jim did. Though she snorted when Steve hastily covered the gold on his hand with his other palm, while Jim just let out an aggravated sigh.

“To be fair, dingus, he was getting ready to toss me out anyways,” the young Buckley maiden pointed out. “Apparently he was getting tired of my ‘prattling,’” she scoffed at Jim, lifting her fingers in air quotes.

Steve shot her a dirty look. “Well I did convince him to let Lady Chrissy go, but she didn’t want to leave,” he huffed, as though offended at having his talents besmirched. As though the ring on his finger wasn’t mocking enough.

Jim let out another heavy sigh.

Steve turned back towards the warden of the realm with a small grimace. “Turns out Miss Holloway was taken by someone else too, Eddie said he didn’t tou—”

“Eddie?!”

Steve’s smile turned dopily fond, and Jim’s annoyance turned sharper when he heard three sets of giggles come from behind a nearby grate. He’d had to have another talk with the triplets (they weren’t really triplets, one being biologically his, one being from his wife’s first marriage, and one being adopted, but they certainly acted like it enough times) about eavesdropping on important business matters again.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve sighed like the lovesick. “He said he didn’t touch Miss Holloway, but he said he’d find her for you if you call off any more manhunts against him.”

“And I’m supposed to trust the word of a demon?” Jim scoffed.

“Hey! That’s my husband you’re talking about! I mean…oops,” Steve said with another embarrassed little smile.

Right. Jim had too much of a headache to continue these talks. He needed a stiff drink. Hopefully Benny didn’t mind opening the tavern’s bar a little earlier than normal today. He waved a dismissive hand, causing the man before him to grin.

“So I can go back to my honeymoon now?”

Jesus Christ. “Return with Lady Chrissy to collaborate your story, and your whatever has a deal,” Jim grumbled.

“Chrissy isn’t going to be too happy about that,” Robin muttered, but she walked up to Steve and gave him a grin. “Let’s go.”

“Robin, you can’t come with me,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah? Well who’s gonna keep Chrissy company while you let that drowned rat of a demon lord ravish your body?”

Steve’s face pinked up as the giggles in the grating turned to full fledged snickers. Yup. Jim was done and needed that drink immediately.

“OUT!” he bellowed, which his somehow successful hired hero and the demon’s latest victim seemed happy to do.

He was going to make Benny make that drink a double.

~

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[allwaswell16]

F a v o r i t e F i c s O f 2 0 2 4

As an ardent reader of One Direction fan fiction, 2024 has been an amazing year for fics! I read so many incredible fics this year, so please check out all my recs for the year here! Below you will find fics that brought me to tears, made me laugh, comforted me, filled me with joy, or had me yelling in my living room. I share this list with you all not to say that these fics are better than others from this year, but to say thank you to these writers who have left a mark on me with their fics.

To all our fandom's writers, thank you for the gift of your stories! Sending much love to you in the new year!

🪩 Louis / Harry 🪩

with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 91k, enemies to lovers) a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought.

don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 83k, trans Louis) the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence

(NR, 74k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 44k, famous/not famous) Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, dragons) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

hard times in elmsmere by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci

(M, 37k, time travel) for louis, being a full-fledged vampire complicates everything, not just his relationship with harry but with harry’s entire coven who took Louis in as an orphan.

Enough To Wish For More by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(M, 33k, The Bridges of Madison County au) Louis Tomlinson just wants a few days of peace and quiet while his family are out of state. But when he meets the lead singer of a band he’s never heard of, his life and everything he thought he knew about it changes forever.

Your Reign is Free (to give along to Santa) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 28k, humor) It’s Christmas Eve. It’s a totally normal Christmas Eve. Harry and Louis have some friends coming by, and some totally normal birthday and Christmas plans. It’s a totally typical totally normal Christmas Eve. A fic that takes place over 24 (+1) hours where surely everything will go totally to plan.

and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 27k, mystery) Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you. Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 26k, canon divergence) Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

Sugar, Sugar by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 25k, sugar daddy Louis) Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website.

Room For One More Troubled Soul by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 25k, supernatural elements) Louis Tomlinson is the chief medical examiner of the Centre for the Law Enforcement of Supernatural Beings - more commonly referred to as simply "The Centre".

On a starlit night by @lunarheslwt

(M, 24k, omegaverse) omega and future Luna Louis is holding a mating ceremony to find his mate, but what he doesn’t expect to see amongst the alphas vying for his hand, is a familiar, yet unexpected face: Harry Styles.

Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. 

 Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie

(E, 19k, omegaverse) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

Stand on Holy Ground (series) by @wishingforloushair

(E, 17k, religion kink) Louis comes back to confess again, and Harry has an idea of how Louis can show God his devotion. 

Peeping by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 16k, roommates) Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

Lost But Won by @2tiedships2

(NR, 16k, omegaverse) When Harry loses his passport after a weekend trip to see Niall, the inconvenience of being stranded in America becomes a little more bearable after meeting Louis. Or a lot more bearable.

At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

so pull me closer, why don’t you pull me close? by @alwaysxlarrie

(M, 9k, uni) If the captain of the soccer team wants to substitute players and be Harry's partner instead... well, Harry's lemons just turned into lemon meringue pie. Who is he to argue with fate?

 and then, i wait there for you by punk_pillow_princess / @punkpillowprincess

(M, 9k, established relationship) Harry has always dreamed of having his “happily ever after”, but hasn’t found the right one yet. Suddenly, he meets Louis.

never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

Just Two Stars Passing By by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 5k, omegaverse) Harry blew up on TikTok and became a fashion commentator during the pandemic. Somehow he ends up covering arrival fashion for the 2024 Euros, and somehow Louis Tomlinson already knows his name.

Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

Pretty and Preposterous by @brightlyharry

(NR, 5k, neighbors) Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

 Pussy Juice by @homosociallyyours

(M, 4k, girl direction) While she manages to dodge the bar’s “special” drink, the Pussy Juice shot, she can’t avoid the feelings that come up when her former teacher (and teen crush), Louis joins her and her friends for the night.

 That’s the way love goes by bella28

(T, 4k, soulmate goose!) In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can’t figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

Come On and Rescue Me by @kingsofeverything

(E, 3k, silver fox Louis) Louis only intends to watch his hot neighbor’s Instagram live, but he winds up with his hand down his pants.

Figure This Out by @haztobegood

(E, 2k, age difference) Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

coming home by @seekforwarmth

(E, 2k, canon) It’s coming home, one way or another.

What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13

(T, 2k, soulmates au) Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

 You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @dreaminrainbows

(M, 2k, pining) Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically in love with him

The Unselected Journals of Louis W. Tomlinson - Vol 1 by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 1k, epistolary) The Wandering of Things was not new, nearly two years into living here. However, the, uh, nature of this particular thing was quite different.

skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

can't hide from yourself by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 666 words, suspense) Harry's home alone, faced with his reflection. And something's not quite right.

🪩 Rare Pairs 🪩

Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

To start again by @loretheloner

(E, 27k, Louis/Michael Blackwell) Louis finds himself slowly falling for a bandmate again, despite Oli's warnings against it. Michael finds himself slowly falling for his boss and fighting against the ghost of Louis' past relationship. 

It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 9k, Liam/Louis) the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?

Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) He remembers arguing that he had no real power over anything, so no one would care about him, let alone try to hurt him. But that assessment had proven to be untrue today.

I regret you all the time by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 2k, Louis/Prince William) Louis’ friends don’t understand, and they wouldn’t even if he explained. But every time William texts, Louis drops everything to go see him.

Skin on My Skin by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(E, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Let me touch you where you like it Let me do it for ya

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Broken Bonds

Fictober Day 1

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: the hardest part appeared to be keeping the word count under 1K and with this I miserably failed (as with some other stories too) but as much as I tried I can't find a way to cut it down so we are starting this fictober with almost a full fledged fic

Warnings: angst, betrayal, reconciliation sex, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 1,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs keep us writers motivated.

“Yield to me,” Sihtric demands, the tip of his sword inches from Uhtred’s throat.

Your eyes lock onto Finan and Osferth, hand gripping the hilt of your sword, yet neither of you moves. He was once a friend, a brother, even something more to some of you. Now he’s a traitor. But no one dares to draw their sword to confront him—everyone’s gaze shifting to Uhtred.

The silence is suffocating, as if the very air has thickened into water. Each breath is a struggle. Anger and resentment churn within you, like a storm waiting to break, coiling tighter around your heart like a venomous snake until it threatens to stop beating altogether.

Uhtred’s sword pokes the ground, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. They embrace. 

You see Osferth's eyes light up, a flicker of realisation crossing his face. He’s the first to shout, “They played us! Finan, they played us!”

His words echo in your ears as you notice the smile spreading across Finan’s lips. A ripple of excitement stirs among the men, their hushed murmurs swelling into a cheer. For them, the world has just snapped back into place, the chaos neatly resolved. But for you? For you, the real chaos has just begun.

Uhtred continues to press Sihtric with questions about the camp and the Danes. Though Sihtric responds, his gaze drifts across the gathered men, as if searching for someone. You can't bear it any longer. You need to get away. But just as you’re about to turn, your eyes lock with his.

A hesitant smile tugs at his lips as he watches you. Is it pride for a job well done that makes his eyes shine? Doesn’t he understand what he’s done? He’s broken it—shattered it, as fragile as it was—your friendship, your trust, your love.

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes. You can’t let him see them. Before the first one falls, you turn and run, as if a wild beast is on your heels. You push forward, deeper into the woods, until the dizziness rising in your chest forces you to stop.

Your back slams against the rough bark of a tree, your breaths ragged. Gripping the hilt of your dagger, you pull it free and press it tightly to your chest, your heart pounding beneath it. You don’t need to look. You already know whose hurried footsteps are closing in on your hiding place.

You wait, the careful shuffle of footsteps mixing with the thunder of your racing heartbeat, both echoing in your ears. You close your eyes for just a moment, and when they reopen, you find yourself staring into two deep pools of blue and brown. Without thinking, your arm shoots out, pressing the dagger against Sihtric’s throat.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even try to avoid it.

“Do it,” he whispers, his breath forming small clouds of mist in the crisp morning air, hovering between you like a fragile veil. “I know I deserve it.”

“Traitor,” you hiss through clenched teeth, your voice cold enough to make him wince.

“Do it,” he repeats, his voice growing louder, more desperate. “I’d rather die by your hand than live another moment with that cold emptiness in your eyes.”

You stand there, weapon in hand, trembling. His words pierce through the walls of anger you’ve built around your heart, the resolve you thought was unshakable now beginning to crack. His eyes, once filled with pride and defiance, now plead for release, for something more than this unbearable silence between you.

Your grip tightens on the hilt, your knuckles white, pressing the blade harder against his skin. A small cut forms, and a few drops of blood slide down the blade, like crimson tears but the weight of the blade feels heavier than ever. 

You want to hate him. You want to believe that the cold fury in your chest will give you the strength to strike. But his broken voice, the rawness in his plea, has chipped away at the resolve you clung to so fiercely.

“You think it’s that simple?” you whisper, voice trembling, not with anger but with something far more dangerous—pain. “You think death will absolve you of everything? You’re still a traitor, Sihtric. To me, you’ll always be a traitor. You left me, without a word, without anything. You betrayed my trust, my loyalty, my lo...,” your voice trails off.

He says nothing, his gaze locked on yours, waiting. His chest rises and falls with heavy, shallow breaths, but the anguish in his eyes only deepens. The fire of defiance that had once sparked between you is now replaced by a painful understanding—an understanding that neither of you can outrun the choices that brought you to this moment.

The blade lowers, your arm trembling from the effort of holding it aloft. You can’t do it. The anger dissipates, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

“I hate you for what you did,” you say, voice barely a whisper, your words a confession more than an accusation. “But I can’t hate you enough to kill you.”

Sihtric’s eyes flicker with something—relief, guilt, perhaps even hope—but he remains still, waiting for your next move. You take a shaky step back, releasing the blade from your grip. It falls to the ground with a dull thud, a weight lifted from your hands but not from your heart.

Sihtric moves toward you, cautiously, as if fearing you might change your mind. His hands reach out but stop short of touching you. His breath is still ragged, and you can see the struggle in his face as he searches for the right words. But there are none. Not now.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. “If you’ll let me.”

You don’t respond. Not with words. Instead, you close the distance between you, leaning your forehead against his chest, letting yourself feel the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his heart against yours. 

His rough, calloused fingers cup your jaw, and before you can protest, his lips crash against yours. The whimper you’ve been holding back escapes, muffled by the force of his kiss. It’s a kiss filled with anger, desperation, and regret—a kiss that takes rather than asks. 

Your hands find their way into his thick, curly hair, fingers tangling in the strands. Your nails scrape against his scalp as you tug hard, wanting to hurt him, wanting him to feel even a fraction of the pain he’s caused you. Sihtric groans into your mouth, his kiss raw, demanding, laced with unspoken apologies.

In a swift, rough motion, he spins you around, pressing you hard against the coarse bark of the tree. The wood bites into your skin, but you barely register the discomfort, your senses overloaded by the heat of his body and the fevered trail of kisses he leaves along your neck. His breath comes in ragged pants, brushing hot against your ear as his fingers fumble with the laces of your breeches, his frustration palpable.

“There hasn’t been a single night I didn’t dream of you,” he hisses into your ear, his voice thick with longing and regret.

Before you can respond, your breeches are yanked down in one swift motion. The cold air stings your exposed skin as Sihtric’s hand slips between your thighs, his fingers finding your wetness with a practised ease. A gasp escapes your lips when his fingertips brush against your pearl, sending an electric shock through your body. The fury that coils within you clashes with the desire that sparks to life under his touch.

“Sihtric,” you breathe, a warning and a plea all in one.

“I need you,” he rasps, his body pressing firmly against yours, his desire undeniable. “Just as I know you need me.” The sound of his belt unbuckling cuts through the stillness of the morning, sharp and ominous. Anger still simmers in your chest, the betrayal still fresh, but your body betrays you, responding to him in ways you can’t control.

Despite the rage that still burns beneath your skin, a moan escapes you, involuntary, as you instinctively push back against him the moment you feel the hard length of him pressing at your entrance. 

He groans, the sound low and guttural, and then he’s inside you, thrusting hard and without warning. His grip on your hips is bruising, fingers digging into your flesh as he sets a brutal, unrelenting pace. Each thrust stretches you in a way that only he can, a mixture of pleasure and pain that blurs the line between anger and desire.

His fingers find your pearl again, brushing against it in a way that makes your breath hitch, your body betraying you once more. You’re torn between the fury still simmering in your chest and the raw, undeniable need that pulses between your thighs.

“You are everything to me and I'll never lie to you again,” he pants into your ear, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. His hips slam into you fiercely, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the cold morning air. The flames of anger and hurt that once consumed you begin to flicker out, dimming in the face of the growing hum of desire coursing through your veins.

Your anger falters, slipping away as you release it with a loud moan, Sihtric’s name falling from your lips, soft and breathless, carried away by the cold morning air. 

“I’ll keep pleading for your forgiveness, as long and as often as it takes, until you’re ready to grant it—until you trust me again,” he begs, his voice tight with strain, growing more desperate with each word.

“Please… forgive me,” his breath, ragged and uneven, fans hot against your neck as he shudders, strangled moans roll over his lips as he spills his seed deep inside you.

For a moment, the world stands still, the heat of his body pressed against yours. He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck, his breath slowly evening out. You feel the trembling in his limbs, the way his body still clings to yours as if afraid to let go.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers, the vulnerability in his voice so raw it makes your chest ache. “But I did... and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

You close your eyes, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you. The anger isn’t gone, not completely, but it’s softened by the realisation that he’s just as broken as you are. And in that moment, you realise that forgiveness isn’t something you can give freely—it’s something you both have to earn.

With a shaky breath, you turn around to face him, your hands resting gently on his chest. His eyes meet yours, and you see the guilt, the sorrow, the regret etched into his features. There’s no denying the pain he’s caused, but there’s also no denying the depth of his remorse.

“I’m not sure I can forgive you,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “Not yet.”

Sihtric’s gaze drops to the ground, but you lift his chin gently, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“But I’m willing to try,” you add softly, the weight of those words hanging between you.

A flicker of hope passes through his eyes, and though it’s fragile, it’s enough.

[velvetures]

Omg I love your stories so much especially the cod ones 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x reader oneshot where the reader maybe gets shot taking a bullet meant for him and maybe they are in an established relationship please with a happy ending

Ignoring Orders & Accepting Lead

A/N: I loved this req. and I hope you're okay with the direction I took this in. I'm trying to get the other asks I've been sent finished in a somewhat timely manner... haha! Honestly, I never thought anyone would enjoy my writing as much as all of you have. <3 Summary: Established relationships mean occasional arguments... You and Ghost have one before a mission. And the make-up conversation is a little less than standard for most couples. T/W: Canonical Violence, guns, knives, Blood, Death (non-major characters), severe injuries, tension, hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING, Ghost being a bit overprotective, Reader being a smartass, not proofread.

Arguments with Ghost happened a lot more frequently than anyone would ever suspect. While he liked to stay quiet when the opportunity arose, it was also know that if you could avoid a conflict, you would just to make sure the temperature of the situation didn’t rise too high. As a pair, it made you great operators, just for the skill-set you each had as well as the predisposition to get things done quickly, and quietly. As for being in a relationship, your character’s held zero influence on the way that you cared about each other of how that would display itself during moments of tension or disagreement. Especially in moments during missions where things weren’t going to plan, and your ideas severely countered Ghost’s.

One of those fights had occurred right before you’d been dropped into a very small town outside of Culiacán, Sinaloa. At HQ, Price was splitting everyone up for their distinct purposes, and you’d been immediately assigned with Ghost for an infil job. One requiring both of you to get in and get out of the well-known cartel stronghold without getting caught or being killed. Naturally you accepted the task without so much as flinching, whereas Ghost didn’t have such an easygoing attitude about it.

He was fucking furious.

First he tried threatening Price, demanding that you not be listed for that and go with Soap for the much less risky job of tracking down a small-time dealer who’d been listed as having information valuable to the task force. Price wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize where Ghost’s rage was coming from, and just simply said that if you wanted the job, there was nothing he could do about it since you’d already read the briefing and knew the entire plan just as well as anyone else. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear from the Captain, and that made things all the worse for you when you said you weren’t going to let him go in alone.

One of the worst fights you’d ever had with Ghost since your partnership became a fully-fledged romance happened right off the helipad being fueled-up for your departure. God it was miserable, and it hurt every ounce of you to have to defend yourself over the one thing that you were certain you could do. Your job. Understanding Ghost’s protective instinct was one thing, but there had to be a line drawn where him throwing his weight and rank around to limit your exposure to risk couldn’t be done anymore.

He’d been totally insensitive to your side of the story, and was obstinate that if you got on the helo, he’d not do a damn thing to keep you safe once you got to Culiacán. Merely to prove the bullshit point that you couldn’t to the job without him. That statement alone had you strapping into your flight harness quicker than Ghost could utter ‘jesus christ’ under his breath. Totally stonewalling you for the entire flight and practically acting like you didn’t even exist. Hell, he wouldn’t even go over the mission plan as was typical, leaving you fully to fend for yourself and follow his lead without even a hand signal to lead you through it.

Everything on entry went smoothly.

No guards were stationed in the underground sewer tunneling, leaving you very dry and unhindered on the half-mile walk from your drop-point to the access ladder leading up into the basement of a massive chapel-turned-base of operations. Whether or not you’d been keeping up or not didn’t appear to phase Ghost in the slightest, and he continued on and up into the basements without so much as glancing your way. You were quickly losing your patience, and getting than much more hurt with hoe easily he could turn off the affection and care that he always had for you. Sure, he wasn’t the coddling type, but you’d never wanted that from him; but this was a whole different level of coldness.

Inside the basement there were stockpiles of cocaine, pre-packed on shipping crates with a printed docket of everything contained on each. Just seeing that much shit all in one room made your head spin. It was one thing knowing it existed, and understanding that tons of it were being shipped all over the world, but actually being in a room surrounded by it from almost floor-to-ceiling was quite overwhelming. And Ghost’s own utterance of the sheer volume confirmed that it wasn’t just your own imagination leading you to think this was way too fucking much to handle. Bad part was, you couldn’t touch any of the shit or destroy it, and were solely on the objective of cloning their hard drives and bringing them back for examination.

Clearing stairwell after stairwell, and only needing to dispose of two guards -quick work with a sharp knife- you’d been able to access their massive data stores collected in what appeared to be nothing more than a personal server farm. Kept extremely cold for the benefit of the rows of towers, you’d been given the small cloning chip needed to transmit data back to HQ. But you needed a window of up to fifteen minutes to ensure everything was fully copied. You -and Ghost- both knew that fifteen minutes was far too long to just stand around with your thumbs up your asses and just hope that no one wondered why the two guards you’d shanked hadn’t checked in, or come to make a round inside the server room.

Ghost very instinctively covered the access door to the room, not even bothering to demand you give him the chip or take care of the data itself. A small reminder that he wasn’t totally untrusting of your skills, but still not large enough of a show that made you feel any less miserable about how your relationship was quite strained at the moment, all of something as small as a fifteen minute window of gathering information. By some miracle, you watched the progress on a small tablet linked to the chip and HQ’s data stores, watching it hit one-hundred percent in just under eight minutes. Perfect. It couldn’t go much smoother than that.

You were tapping Ghost on the shoulder, and giving a small thumbs-up just as the sounds of footsteps running up the stairwell outside began echoing. More than just one or two. It was actually a lot more than you even had the ammunition to handle, considering the job was deemed covert. Neither you or Ghost went without some protection… but you’d been packed out a lot lighter than normal. Right away he was stepping back from the door and checking his watch with a stern look in his eyes. One you recognized as realization that you’d have to fight your way out of this. Ugly, bloody, and violent.

Exactly what he didn’t want in the fuckin’ first place.

Ghost was inside of his own mind, trying to balance out the fear of you being in the middle of a cartel fire-fight and the rage he still felt when you just wouldn’t fucking listen to him right from the beginning. He knew what cartels did to women, and a pretty one like you wouldn’t have the mercy of just being killed. No. They’d fucking torture and toy with you until there wasn’t anything human left inside of you. That’s why he’d been so goddamn adamant that you stay behind for this one.

The data you’d copied over was bullshit compared to you living and breathing for another day. And Ghost couldn’t stand to think he’d walked you right into this place without at least trying to show you that he cared enough to see you live. Dying wasn’t a fear of his, but there was nothing he dreaded more than the mental image of you bleeding out in his arms all because of his own fucking mistakes.

Yet, here he stood. Having to make the decision on what to do or how to get you both out of here alive if he could even manage that in the first place. Part of him was already preparing to let them take him and give you enough time to slip away. You were fast enough. Small, so they’d have a far harder time picking you out in a crowd. But if he’s assumptions were correct, the tunnels would still be clear.

He gave you one last look, and grabbed hold of your vest to pull you behind him; Hearing the footsteps of more than six men filling into the large room outside of the server farm. Some barking orders to check down the hall, while others were meant to stay posted at the stairs to block off anyone flushed out. Ghost felt his own body starting to get cold. So desensitized to the violence he was already prepping himself to commit that if it wasn’t for you being there, he’d had already burst through the door and met them head on.

“Fuckin’. Listen,” He snapped as quietly as possible. Your ears perked up, happy to have just heard him speak, even if he sounded downright vicious. Your little hand tapping at his ribs as confirmation you were paying attention sent a shiver up his back.

“Don’t engage unless they’re right in your way. Take the tunnels out, I’ll be right behind you.” He barked out the orders under his breath.

Ghost couldn’t help but feel your hand fist into the material of his shirt. You didn’t like that one bit, and he didn’t need to see your face to know better. Because for whatever reason, you had it in your thick little head that he needed protecting as much as you did. Like it was your job to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Cute and a little bit amusing, Ghost hadn’t the slightest clue where you got the idea from or why it was such a massive trigger for him to challenge it. But right now, there was no fighting about it. He’d not take no for an answer, and when you didn’t give a confirmation right away, he growled in impatience.

Reluctantly, you gave it with a small tap rubbing your thumb over his hip bone.

One minute, Ghost was pushing open the door and spotting only three men within direct threat distance and seeing only one man standing at the top of the stairs. A split second of decision had him throwing two knives, and charging at the third to ensure that you’d only have to take care of the one remaining. He sunk a third knife in, feeling the man sink to his knees and drop to the floor, retrieving two of his blades before turning around right as the sound of a pistol registered. Ghost realized his fatal error in the squeeze of a trigger too late.

Only you saw what was coming, and Ghost watched you crumple to the floor between the shooter and himself; Stopping the man from shooting him in the back, but catching you somewhere of your front that residual splatter from the rained over his mask and tac vest. Everything around Ghost slowed, nearing an entire halt to the earth as you fell limply to the ground. Not even moving to try and cover your wound or catch yourself from the fall to the marble floor. Nightmares couldn’t compare to the sight of you crumpled in a heap of gear and bulky material after watching you purposefully allow your life to be traded for his.

The shooter wasn’t lucky enough to squeeze the trigger again for the knife that embedded itself in his forehead. Retribution. Quick but not as instantaneous as it would’ve been with a gun of his own. He was forced to see his own death approach with the snapped rotation of a throwing knife Ghost had sharpened days ago. He wanted to it last longer… make the bastard pay for it. Torture him for as long as his body could take, then give him just enough time to recover and start all over again.

But you needed him… Fuck. He needed you.

On the ground, you knew you’d taken a shot. But the adrenaline and immediate blow of it had you frozen on the floor. You couldn’t really tell where you’d been shot, or how bad the damage was. Truthfully you’d never experience it, and while many of the stories you heard over the years of your service, nothing they ever did to explain it was touching the utter fire radiating through your body. What you did know was that you were bleeding, and the shot had missed your tac vest; A small stream of blood was rolling through the grout lines in the floor, staining the white marble a sickening color.

Seeing Ghost on a knee in front of you, eyes wide and searching over your face was the next hazy image you recognized. His mask was shifting with the motion of him talking, but your ears were ringing. A pitchy and high whine blocked any other sound, even Ghost’s voice which you’d always been so very keen on paying close attention to. You felt awful. Putting him through this after you’d literally just had the fight about you getting hurt. Guilt flooded your limited emotional capacity, and as Ghost readjusted to pick you up, you felt tears rolling down your face.

You’d not had a single second to react to the fourth man in the room, him having the jump on visualizing Ghost facing the other three. It made him a vulnerable target. And in the split second you had to do something, you’d jumped in the way. Laying out totally flat to use your entire body to shield his. Hoping to god luck was on your side. At this point, hanging over Ghost’s shoulder limply as he rushed down the stairs on his way towards the basement, you weren’t sure if luck was on your side or not.

Thankfully, your hearing was slowly coming back in certain frequencies.

Sounds of gunfire and sirens blaring from the street level let you know that everyone within a few miles of the cathedral would be on the lookout for intruders. With all of the people who’d seen you, killed, no descriptions could be sent out or blared to citizens under control of the cartel. It didn’t help that Ghost was the largest man in the city who just happened to have on a skull mask and carrying a woman leaving behind noticeable drips of blood as a gruesome kind of trail to follow.

“C’mon baby, answer me!” Ghost panting yell finally registered, and you were able to manage a weak pat on his lower back. You felt his hand squeeze the back of your thigh for a moment before his pace slowed from a quick run to almost a crawl.

“We got company…”

There hadn’t been any men in the tunnel. But now that Ghost was less than fifty yards from their extraction point with a “medical” heli waiting for their return; three men were posted at the gated slope leading up to the hillside entry. The Lieutenant could feel your blood soaking into his shirt, wetting his shoulder. A bad reminder that you needed to get the fuck out of here right now. But he couldn’t get rid of those fuckers unless he put you down.

He squeezed at your thigh again to get your attention.

“I need - need to -fuck- set you down…” Saying those words utterly destroyed Ghost. You were the only thing he cared about right now, but the longer he put this off, the risk of you dying loomed closer.

“Need ya t’stay right here… okay? Don’t come out…”

Carefully you felt him settle you behind a large sewage drain pipe connecting from the street into the small walkway. Easing your back against the curved brick wall and once again taking a very hard look at you. This time, he could see where the bullet had just missed the edge of your tac vest, entering through the ripped hole in your shirt just below your collarbone. Every hopeful fiber in Ghost wanted to believe it wouldn’t be non-lethal. But if it shattered your collarbone, the bullet fractured and clipped a vein or small artery, there was plenty to be concerned about.

He would’ve packed the would just to stave off the blood flow. But he didn’t have the luxury of time. And whether or not Ghost would ever admit it to himself, repeatedly shoving his finger into your wound would render him down to a shell of a man. He couldn’t hurt you. Fuck, he couldn’t hurt you.

“Stay here… I’ll be right back.” He whispered against your forehead, pressing his masked mouth to your forehead.

You leaned into him, hearing his words and consciously noticing just how difficult it was to understand the words after hearing them. Almost like you couldn’t natively speak english and the meanings just weren’t instinctual anymore. God it took everything to comprehend that he was planning to clear the rest of the way, leaving you here. Eyes trailing after him sluggishly, you fought with your own arms to try and scoot back just a little further to peek between the large pipe you were leaning against to see if you could spot Ghost or the targets.

Being told to stay was always a difficult order for you. Even if you weren’t shot and struggling to manage simple bodily functions. Surprisingly, you were able to see the shadowed figured standing guard right at the gates you’d come through, holding rifles and totally unaware of Ghost lurking within such easy range. You wondered why he didn’t just shoot them, and get this over with.

Why he needed stealth when the entire city was looking for you didn’t make a lot of sense in your mind. Until you saw five more men walk down to join the others. With one cut of your eyes to look at Ghost, you realized he had anticipated more and planned of making quick work. It’d been a long time since you watched him work alone. Nearly two years. Attempting to shift your shoulder it rocked your entire system. Biting your jaw to keep from making noise, you tried focusing through the tears in your eyes as the only man who held the key to not only your life, but your heart in his fist.

Ghost kept reevaluating his odds with each step closer. Feeling distracted in the worst way with the guilt of leaving you unprotected, and in no position to defend yourself in the case that he wasn’t able to take all of these men alone. Those odds -either realistic or narcissistic confidence- didn’t phase the Lieutenant in the slightest. He was fueled with rage. And while these bastards hadn’t done anything, just being in his path was a death sentence.

The fight started smoothy and efficiently, taking out the largest of the men and using his half-dead form as enough of a shield to eliminate the threat of three 12.7x99mm wielders, too surprised to shoot off five rounds. Another three surrounded him with nothing more than machetes swiping through the air with near misses. One smooth draw of his own pistol dropped two men, and when Ghost turned around to face the third the butt of a shotgun smacked across his vision, dropping him to his knees and hearing his pistol slide across the floor out of reach.

He hauled himself to a knee, watching the man throw the empty shotgun away and approach with a knife, glinting in the sunlight just on the outside of the tunnel. Ghost could actually hear the rotor blades of the helicopter cranking up, set into motion by the small tracker in his belt giving the pilot a comm-less tip off. He’d have to fight this hand-to-hand, and while he didn’t feel the least bit tired, Ghost knew a long fight only risked you further. And fuck if making you wait didn’t make his hair stand up on edge. Even in your state, he knew better than to think you wouldn’t start getting worried in the next couple of minutes.

His opponent took the first blow and used the hilt of his large blade to connect fully with Ghost’s jaw. A heavy crack sounded, but the Lieutenant merely flinched; Throwing his own weight on the weight-matched man, and there ensued a grappling match that risked deadly knife wounds being grazed against straining forearms and a battle of wills that totally opposed one another on every basis… Save for being the last man standing. For the second time in a single mission, Ghost found himself at the razor’s edge of a knife pressing against his throat and no really foolproof tactic of getting out of it.

“Seré el que te mate, fantasma..” The man breathed hotly against Ghost’s ear, jerking the knife closer and fighting the sheer strength in the Lieutenant’s arm. “Colgaré tu cabeza en mi pared, bastardo.”

Ghost fumbled with his other hand under the pressure on his throat began taking away the normal dexterity he functioned with; Trying to find a knife on his belt, or any kind of weapon at this point. Only all of them had been embedded in the dead bodies scattered around them. It had been a bad decision to listen to Price when he said to pack lightly. It would be the end of him.

Simon Riley didn’t show himself often during missions. Always locked away in the recesses of Ghost’s mind, quietly biding his time until there was the few-and-far-between moment for him to appear for a few moments. Typically in the darkness of your shared bedroom with your face pressed between his shoulder blades and your little arm wrapped around his waist.

Simon loved feeling your hand against his belly, twitching your fingers in your sleep and reminding him just how soft and loving you were; Happy to hold his hand tightly in the middle of unconsciousness just like you did when awake. Ghost did everything he could to protect Simon from anyone and anything that could hurt the other half of himself. But hearing another pistol register loudly in the tunnel, echoing back and forth for almost a whole minute; Ghost found himself losing control to Simon.

He felt the man above him slump in dead weight against his back. Muscles slack and the knife held to his throat clanged to the concrete. Looking in the direction of the shot, whatever protective grasp Ghost had on himself utterly dissolved. You’d managed to lay yourself out on the floor, hardly propped up on one elbow with your smoking pistol shaking in your hands. Tears spilled over your cheeks and with each second that passed, he could visualize the pain you felt from such a rough kickback in how you abruptly dropped the pistol in front of you and collapsed flat on the floor with a low groan.

He couldn’t have moved to your side faster.

Immediately picking you up again and making the very short but tense run back to the heli; all the while the pilot was looking between his instruments and the sight of Ghost holding you close to his chest in the floor.

“No one… threatens… to kill you… but me…” You mutter pained, bearing a muddled smile up at Ghost.

Unbelievable… Ghost hardened his stare, putting pressure to your wound and watching in quiet grief that he needed to cause you pain.

“Good shot… did good baby…,” He whispered back weakly, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you against him. Desperate to get you home and safe.

“Gonna ignore how you refused to follow a superior’s orders three times…” He added stiffly, feeling you twitch when a spasm in your shoulder seized. You just bit out another pained noise, coughing a bit with the dust being kicked up from the helicopter lifting off.

The look you gave him couldn’t be seen as anything other than pure, innocent, and unflinching devotion. It nearly ripped Ghost out of the body you clung to, leaving Simon bracing you against his chest as the pilot at the front started giving information to the rest of the squad about fifty miles away at a safe house. Much too long for the Lieutenant’s liking. But close enough that he could get you to his squad and they could ensure you didn’t leave him.

He couldn’t stand losing you, and they’d make sure you didn’t.

“Simon,” Sweet and weak, your hand cups his cheek as you bring him out of an initial trigger. “M’not leaving you anytime soon. Love you too much.” Your eyes close as your head leans agains him trustingly.

His chest crumbled in on itself. “Love you too, baby… I love you too.”

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated! <3

[vieoeil-riae]

the taste of you on my lips

steb/gn!reader

warnings: blow job, paramedic!steb, light ptsd mentions, steb has a hemipenis + cock frills, come swallowing, submissive!steb, post canon, selectively mute!steb, 18+ MDNI, 3k words

synopsis: Being a paramedic is tiring; you think he deserves a reward. (you eat him out then suck him off <3)

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection | masterlist

You’d barely seen a lick of Steb since his career change. It wasn’t unexpected, you’d talked for a long time about what it would mean — him becoming a fully fledged paramedic — but words were nothing like the reality you were waking up to.

It was for the best, so you couldn’t say you minded it too badly, it certainly beat watching him freeze up for moments at a time as he put his old enforcer uniform on in the mornings. The fight against Noxus had done a number on him; not surprising, you knew what he’d lost, two of his few friends as well as a significant amount of faith in himself. You didn’t miss the subtle fight in his expression, like he was cutting through the memories of a similar uniform, bloodsoaked and pressed to the floor by a cooling body.

You couldn’t say you minded the new uniform either, Steb certainly cut a stunning figure dolled up in paramedic cargos and a thick, deep blue button-up. Boring, yes, but he made the practicality of the look pop. You’d tell him how nice his shoulders looked most days, hands sliding lazily around his pretty waist — fingers ghosting his belt buckle but never giving it more than a playful tug.

Neat, he looked neat and you were loving it. You’d mess him up if he wasn’t coming home already bedraggled most days. 

Steb would walk in, usually long after dark, with his hair falling out of its slick style and an exhausted look in his eyes. He told you it was satisfying, to be able to help people without thinking about how he could be hurting more people than he was helping; tired, sore hands waved, speaking of how he’d always had an interest in medicine, that it was a good feeling to learn and practice it more.

You’d smile at him, unbuttoning his shirt to get it away from his neck and the gentle dorsal fin that decorated the back of it, slipping below his collar, when he slumped next to you on the couch. It was hot to see him so dishevelled, the slight but still noticeable loving smile he’d shoot back at you, but at the same time it pained you to see him so run ragged, you didn’t want to completely exhaust him but you’d been sorely missing him.

There was only so much the drag of your pillows could replace, even when all your sheets smelled of Steb. The clinging scent of his soap only made you salivate more, dragging frustrated whines from you when fabric failed to live up to skin.

You didn’t want to tire him out more, but you wanted your hands on him, you wanted your skin on his with more motion than just late night cockwarming, it was getting desperate. You missed the way his body reacted to you, the gorgeous arch of his back and the way his head would tip back in a silent moan — the sweetest reward you could ever earn. You ached for more, to see it, to have it again.

It was a craving that made itself apparent in your dreams, leaving you sweaty and needing when you woke up with him in time for his early shift. You closed your eyes as you calmed down, arm slung over your face like you weren’t sure you could trust yourself if you saw his bare body as he got dressed — you’d hate to make him late. 

You missed the way Steb wanted you too.

It felt like he was struggling to swim, he wasn’t in possession of the highest libido ever but even a man who isn’t hungry will start to feel a tug in his gut when he’s around pure temptation for so long. The lack of action was starting to rattle his skull, you were so close but so far out of the reach of his aching arms, and he found no release of his own.

Steb found a new side to you, not much different than anything he’d seen before, but through his blurring vision you looked like an angel when you unwinded next to him. So soft, his, for the taking if he wanted. The way he found himself barely able to function through the fog of a hard day’s work was torture when he could be pulling pleasure from you. As nice as the warmth that gathered in the line between your bodies was, it was searing him with a lewder kind of heat. 

Thank god you finally snapped under the weight of your desire, falling onto the couch with him for a few long moments before the itch to smother him in lusting touches got too intense to bear.

You swung your leg over Steb’s narrow hips, sliding into his lap with delicious ease. His hands cradled your hips, your weight not unfamiliar on top of him. It sparked a fire in his groin, even though there wasn’t anything that suggested sex explicitly, and he swallowed as his fingers dug into the flesh beneath them — even while quietly wanting, he was polite enough to consider that maybe that wasn’t what you were intending.

That train of thought was thrown out quickly as you whispered how much you missed him against his lips, arching into his slouched body with a roll of your hips. There was an enticing smile, sultry to the point of almost being smug, that stretched across your lips when he shuddered at your fingertips ghosting the sensitive tips of his ears.

The burn was low, but it soaked into all his muscles as you kissed him deeply, pushing his head back far enough for his neck to rest comfortably against the back of the couch. Your tongue in his mouth felt like heaven, satisfying in ways he hadn’t realised were missing the feeling as you licked your way past bitten-soft lips.

You moaned against his tongue, the sound tasted sweet and it nearly made him tremble, tiredness exchanged for raw exhilaration as he felt his cock jump. The roll of your hips as you grinded against him made him purr on the inside, happy to get you off, happy to be the one dragging pretty noises from your throat.

Your fingers slid over his shirt, reaching for the rest of his buttons and nearly tearing them off, fingertips meeting the skin beneath  — featherlight and warm. 

Pulling back with the slick feeling of your tongue slipping against his, from his lips, you let your hands skim down his sides, halfway under his uniform shirt. You watched his chest heave as one of your hands brushed the curve of his spine, the other planted firmly on his stomach and delighting in the feeling of the muscles underneath it tensing and stretching as he subtly arched at your touch.

“You’ve been so busy,” you murmured, a seductive lilt in your tone as your fingers made tingling trails towards the belt of his cargos, “so good, let me take care of you…”

You trailed off, going from staring at the frosty blue of Steb’s eyes, fogged over with heat that soaked through the rest of his body like a hot bath, to burning a path all the way down to his crotch; pressed to yours where you could feel his cock, not quite out, but swelling inside enough for you to feel the twitch against your pelvis. You ached to touch him, want pooling deep in your gut, and you swallowed; licking your lips at the thought of having him in your mouth, having your tongue in him.

Steb hands groped your hips, grinding against the curve of your ass until you knocked his hands off with a loving giggle.

“Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything, you just have to take it.” You whispered, gentle smile turning sharper with the promise of making him feel good and the high of making him writhe under you that never got old. How hard the image of Steb coming down your throat, built up of obscene memories, hit you almost surprised you — the shiver racing up your spine felt like several hundred volts at least.

You waited until he nodded, cheeks painted with a thick blush, before you let hushed praises tumble from your lips as you slid off his lap onto the floor.

The press of your knees against the living room carpet felt more apparent than ever as you let your hands drag down Steb’s body, watching his eyes flicker, conflicted with the want to watch you and your hands as they made a show of playing with the buckle of his belt at once.

There was a move to shuck his shirt off, but you stopped that quickly; your hand caught his wrist in a flash, pulling his hand towards your head instead, and you shot him a sly smile as you drawled him, “leave it, it looks good on you.”

The frills decorating his cheekbones pulsed in surprise, blush travelling to his ears that flicked at your boldness as well as the thought of how much sweat would end up soaking into the back of his uniform. It shouldn’t have sent another blistering wave down his sides, but there it was, making him squirm — frills standing on end at the thought.

Your hands stopped at his zipper, and he became distinctly aware of how laboured his breathing had gotten. So pent up, but so sluggish he hadn’t even noticed how badly he was affected by you, your hands, and the way you eyed him like he was the most mouthwatering cut of meat you’d ever seen. It was so different to how you usually took him in, staring like you were drunk on the sight of him, captivated — right now, you looked hungry, like you wanted to play with your food.

“You’ve had a long day.” You uttered, staring almost unblinkingly into Steb’s eyes — bordering on predatory. Your breath warmed the skin of his stomach, dangerously gentle, dangerously close to his waistband, and he nearly shivered. “Can I taste it?”

A silent whine caught in the back of Steb’s throat, eyes blowing wide as his cock stirred lazily in his gut — neediness rising all the way to his chest, burning consumingly hot and knocking any thoughts of being too tired away with ease. He didn’t even recognise when he’d started nodding so vigorously, chest starting to judder with each slow heave.

Satisfied, smug, starving, you descended to trail kisses along his navel, spreading his legs wider apart to claim the space — chest nearly flush with the crotch of his uniform cargos as your hands and lips brushed up and then down his quickly heating, mostly clothed body like the wash of a wave on the shore. 

Your hands made quick work of his fly, glancing up only to get an eyeful of the desperate, blushing mess forming above you. It stroked the smouldering coals of your ego, watching him start to fall apart so easily — he wanted you, your mouth on him. You didn’t watch your hands slide his cargos down his smooth, supple thighs, too caught up in the arch and rise of his body; achingly graceful despite the obvious desire that quickened the sight. 

You nearly licked your lips at the thin string of slick that clung to Steb’s underwear as you pulled them down too, he was so eager — god you wished he’d told you sooner. You’d have been more than happy to please, always.

You tugged him forward by the hips once he’d settled again, forcing him to lay back as best he could against the back of the couch, with the slit hiding his cock — wet, swollen and parting — scant centimetres from your face. The heady scent of his sex was mouthwatering, you almost felt literally hungry as your tongue darted out.

The tip of it ran along the slit so gently, feeling the slight pulse of Steb’s soft flesh under your tongue so distinctly. Not enough, he nearly bucked against the feeling — so sensitive. You couldn’t help but smile, self-satisfied with how you could tease him so deliciously easy.

A fuller lick of your tongue had his head tipping back with a gasp, thighs twitching around your jaw, hands jerking to grip the arm of the couch. It encouraged you to take another, then another, slowly, tenderly working him up on your tongue before you dipped your tongue inside his folds. You chased the lowering tip of his cock in the slick, internal sheath it resided in, your eyes fluttering shut with the roll of Steb’s hips at the intrusion — bodily tang coating your tongue thickly, you moaned quietly against him.

The flick of your tongue over his cockhead set a loud groan loose, falling to your ears so beautifully, and you gave his slit a parting kiss as you pulled away. He whined at the loss, foggy eyes glistening as they gazed at the sheen of slick decorating your chin and the sight of your mouth still open and panting as you reached for the hem of his open shirt.

“You don’t want the neighbours to hear, do you? It’s pretty late, you know?” You coaxed, almost condescending as you balled the fabric in your fist and reached up to shove it between his teeth. Spit soaked it obscenely quickly, a muffled whine caught in the somewhat coarse threads. You hummed approvingly, “good.”

The same teeth bit down hard at the feeling of your soft tongue returning to lavishing him with your tongue, borderline making out with his wet slit — luring out his cock with a thick blush stuck on both of your cheeks at the growing feeling of it, the push against your tongue as it stiffened on its way out. You lapped at it wetly, saliva melting into the slick that coated it, then hollowed your cheeks around the throbbing flesh in a way that had Steb scrambling to grip at any of the plush couch he could reach.

The slow but desperate cant of his hips pressed his cock further into your mouth, like the simmer of pleasure in his gut — your mouth felt so good. Hot, almost too hot, and never letting up on the way your soft cheeks brushed against the frills pulsing down the sides of his erection, chased by the savouring tease of your tongue. The way you worked him up was purposeful, dragging the build up to his orgasm out like a nice glass of wine, like you were more focused on worshipping him than getting him off until a breathy whine from his throat made your pace stutter.

Your eyes, glinting in the low light, pupils blown so wide he could mistake you for being drunk, stared up at him — utterly fixated. It, and the begging look he could feel on his face, seemed to spur you on, and he watched as you swallowed down his wholly emerged cock until the overwhelmingly lewd feeling of his tip pressing against the back of your throat tipped his head back in a silent groan.

Quicker, like you were running out of patience, too hungry to tease, you bobbed your head and ignored the sting of tears in your eyes — the lightheadedness making the feeling of Steb’s cock so satisfying, fulfilling a need you hadn’t realised was so neglected. The tensing of his thighs under your fingers, nails pressed lightly into the skin for leverage sparking pretty sensations just underneath, was like the sweetest reward.

His heaving and panting grew more laboured, interrupted by caught breaths and quiet moans as you sucked him off, pulling the coil in his gut tighter, pushing tiredness to the very edge of his consciousness along with his worries. The buck of his hips was earnest, knuckles turning white against the fabric it clutched — trying not to grip you by the hair, he didn’t trust his hands, too jittery with the way it felt like his blood was electric. The way his abdomen tensed was almost unbelievable compared to the unravelling feeling from just a minute ago.

You perked at the sound of Steb growing louder, latching onto every every note and giving him more; you tongue laving at his frills until he writhed under your palms, twitching in your mouth as the burning feeling consumed him entirely. The way his mouth hung open, eyebrows knitted together, was addictive — so pretty, obscene and perverted in absolute contrast to his usual self. There was a sense of pride when it came to tugging reactions like that out of him.

His writhing stuttered, hips jerking as he came hard, much harder than he thought he would but the thought was lost to the electric, boneless, feeling that cleared sense from his head that fell back against the couch.

You gagged on the come gushing down your throat, swallowing around his cock in a way that made him twitch violently — stomach muscles convulsing in front of your blurry eyes. You kept Steb in your mouth until you saw him start to come down from his high, pulling away — he jerked in oversensitivity, thighs almost clamping around your head.

Teasingly, because you knew he preferred to be neat, you showed him your tongue as you leaned back — thin strings of saliva keeping you connected to the flushed head of his cock. You wiped them away with a grin at the way he blushed impossibly brighter, and laughed a little hoarsely when he turned his face away from you, ears pointed bashfully downwards. 

As spent as he was, you could see some of the tension slip from your shoulders which made your heart twinge; he was doing so well, working through so much, changing — you thought he deserved the world.

You heaved yourself from your knees onto the couch, slumping into Steb’s side as you caught your breath, closing your eyes in contentment.

“Stay like this for a while, then shower?” You hummed, posing a little plan that stated what was somewhat obvious, and Steb leaned into the feeling of your voice — blissed out sleepiness soaking into his muscles. You snorted, “then bed.”

He smiled and nodded, which you felt as his warm cheek brushed the side of your head. He tilted his head slightly, nose brushing against the space just above your ear, and murmured a contented little ‘thank you’ against your skin that you couldn’t help but lose yourself in. A tiny kiss was pressed to the shell of your ear, a little ‘I love you’.

A/N: here's the self indulgent fic, my excuse to write about sucking off a healthcare worker, sorry it took a moment but heyyyy glitter divider!! shiny sparkly!!!

banner cr: @/cafekitsune

[lucrativesoul]

Fresh Meat

summary: when fear of a dangerous animal hits your small home village, outsider Leon joins the team to help them take on the hunt. the lurking creature is not the only secret hiding in the forest.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 14.8k

tags/warnings: fantasy/sci-fi, mentions of animal death, vague smut (non-explicit), questionable consent

a/n: let's hear it for me returning ! if you read the blurb i posted along with the sneak peak of this fic, yes, it is very plot heavy, and by the time i got to the end where the smut would have been, i decided a full fledged sex scene felt very out of place in this. so, i did omit details but there is still something at the end, so i apologize for anyone who reads for that purpose alone. i have an idea for my next one, so i will make it more worth it next time, lol. anyways, if this is up your alley, i hope you enjoyed it and i will see you all when i come back with another one!!

The rabbit was still warm when it showed up at your front door.

It was an odd hour for someone to be out hunting, but with the sun getting ready to enter a state of near dormancy for four months, you took it as a sign that someone was trying to keep your small population fed for the winter.

Bringing the crate with a small, bloodstained bundle into your home, you pondered about who had left this here for you. You were fairly certain that your neighbors were all still home, either that or they were only just now helping dock the ship that arrived with grain. They had been known to occasionally leave you with an animal, but it was usually in the early hours, and the wind chill would lower the carcass’s temperature significantly before you could rouse and bring it in. 

Nonetheless, you didn’t strain yourself over it, as acts of kindness regarding food supply were warmly welcomed before the darkness settled in.

This winter was much like the ones you had seen before–adults of the town strapping down their own food supply, whether that be buried in the ground or in an underground cellar if their cabin was big enough, the children running around only during peak hours when the air was just warm enough that the wind wouldn’t sting when it hit you, and carriages full of leaking meat ready to be skinned and fileted arrived, preparing to be stored with whatever else could last through the winter.

This was routine now, and a small gift like a warm rabbit to eat for the night was one you would not turn down any time soon.

You looked over the animal; the fur was clean, the kill was neat, and it didn’t look harmed. Job well done. You hoped it didn’t suffer for long. As a token of thanks for it, you would save the pelt for a cowl.

You had a decent sized storage for food this winter, you were only feeding yourself and you could survive off of the grains and winter vegetables that were available for as long as you could. Saving the rabbit would be nice, but you knew the winter market would be held shortly, and that is when you did your stockpile. This one would be tonight’s treat.

Leaving the creature on the counter, you whisked yourself over to the front door, sliding your arms into a big woolen coat, your feet into boots, and shoved your hands into your pockets to make the quick walk across the square to your acquaintance’s home. Hissing when the cold made your eyes water, you latched the door shut and raised your shoulders, bringing the collar of the coat up to protect your neck. Such a quick walk made the full winter apparel unnecessary, though at times you do wish it wasn’t so painstaking to put on. The walk would be much better if you weren’t contorted to stay warm.

The sound of the gravel under your feet mixed with the children yelling at one another as they ran around, dodging and weaving wagons and carriages coming into the square. You almost shouted a warning to them, fearing they would get hurt by the large wheels or the horses’ hooves, but selfishly enough, you were too cold to make any extra effort. You knew the other women of the commune were smart enough to do it themselves, you just liked going the extra mile to help neighbors.

The house you were seeking arrived at once. Quickening your pace, you jogged up the jagged walkway of stone and rapt on the door four times. You heard the sound of thundering steps on wood floors within, and the door opened instantly and you walked inside without waiting for verbal permission.

This was your closest ally's house; neither of you were to need permission to enter under any circumstance, though knowing her family was home, you had the kindness to knock anyway. Being a solo woman of the town meant you spent the majority of your time helping her and her family, as you were well off enough with supplies to keep yourself alive. Today was no different, and with her husband out in the woods lowering the population of multiple woodland inhabitants for the winter market, she could use the extra person to run the home for the night.

You shed your coat and propped it up by the door, quickly unlacing your boots and doing the same to them. You followed her wordlessly to the kitchen, not needing instruction.

“I’m worried,” She then said timidly, and you had to turn around from your position at the chopping block to be sure you heard her correctly.

“Worried, did you say? What for? You know he’s out there doing just fine, every market always keeps you all well fed, warm, and whatnot. Is it the children? Have they become interested in wanting to go?” 

You recall her confiding in you that she was anxious of the day her children were old enough to want to follow their father into the woods to join the group of their annual winter gathering. She knew her husband would teach them right, and you had no doubt they were being raised as well mannered children, eventually able to handle firearms for this purpose, but naturally, her mother's instinct would kick in.

“No, not quite…” She paused a moment, opening the floor hatch and pulling up their storage box with chilled greens for supper. You walked over and took a cabbage, placing it back on your board. The cold made your fingertips ache. “I believe this won’t be a great season. He’s told me there’s oddly less game this year than the previous few.”

You furrowed your brow at this. “Well, I suppose it can’t be great every season, no? You know how much you need now, and his catch will be able to provide you with that and more.”

She sighed. “Yes, but… they are growing now. It takes more to feed them. The cold feels like it lasts a lot longer than it used to.” She began chopping, her knife making rhythmic knocks against the wooden slab. You cut your own cabbage in half, leaving it open by the stove to thaw the center.

“I think you’ll be alright. You have the support when you need it, I always have the extra to spare for you.” You looked over at her earnestly, and before she could reply, you both hushed as the door swung open. Seeing it was just one of her three children, she ushered him off into the main room to warm up, not before chastising him about being outside with barely enough on. She shook her head as she walked back into the kitchen.

“They don’t ever listen about their heavy coats. I can’t make them learn.” She sighed again and looked back over at you. “And don’t be ridiculous, please. You need your food.”

You breathed a small laugh. “I’m well off enough to keep myself going with what I have. One small deer is a month of meals for me, you know that. Let me go back to my house, I have a fresh rabbit, we will eat it tonight. I’d rather share it.”

She turned her head sharply, but not out of scorn. “Fresh? From who? No one has come back yet. You certainly didn’t go out.” You laughed again at this, knowing she meant no insult by it.

“I really don’t know. It wasn’t there this morning when I went to the well. I don’t even remember what I was doing in between this time, I had nothing to prepare, I was waiting for the men to come back with meat. I opened my door for something, I don’t even remember what, I just did. And it was there, in a crate.”

She halted her chopping, staring off, pondering. “You didn’t miss it this morning? You know there’s those few that get the dawn’s catch.”

You shook your head, peeling back layers of cabbage that were thawed enough now, pausing to warm your fingertips in the pockets of your apron, loaned by your friend. “Couldn’t have missed it… didn’t see a single soul walk by my window all morning.”

Silence fell between the two of you, and you knew she was also wondering where this could have come from, knowing every man that hunted in the village was not to return until almost sundown with their catches. After a while, she just shrugged.

You nodded your head in agreement. “Meat is meat. Here, let me go get it, I’ve just been letting it sit. This needs to thaw more anyways.” You abandoned your station and walked over to the door, re-suiting up for the walk back. You heard her footsteps behind you. “Would you like the children in? I know they should be all coming back soon, the last thing they would need right now is children becoming more stones under the horses hooves.”

She hummed from behind you. “Yes, that would be great, they should have been back an hour ago now.” 

Having fastened the last button on your coat, you swung the door open. The sky was quickly descending to a deeper shade of gray, indicating the sun was setting against a clear sky the town has not seen in months now. You were about to turn and give her another verbal confirmation of finding her remaining two children when a loud cry from the square stopped you. You turned, and you felt your friend step out to watch as well, unable to ignore the sudden break of the square’s silence.

“I… I’ll go see what’s going on, stay here.” You took a step down and crunched the earth under your boot.

“Nonsense.” She turned to grab her own coat off the hanger, and she shouted inside at her one child home to stay put and not to move. You both hurriedly walked further into the commotion, the other townsfolk creating a barrier around the one who shouted. A break in the human wall opened up, and you were on the outer ring watching the drama unfold.

The man, who undeniably drew attention as he was on his knees and had his hunting gloves ripped off, blood drying and cracking over his cold hands, was recognizable as a man of the hunting group that was soon to be back with their catch for the upcoming market. You looked around as much as you could, past the opposite wall of people concerned for what he was going to say, but you did not see any other carriages arrive with any game. In fact, you did not see even his.

You heard him mumbling something to himself, and one of the elder councilmen came over and took a knee beside him, desperate to figure out what was troubling him. You watched, tense, as they spoke, nods and headshakes and gestures of confusion being traded between them. The anxiety of it all made you forget the rapidly dropping temperature.

The councilman suddenly stood, putting a hand on the man’s shoulders, but he shook it off. You gasped, worried for a violent outbreak that you were sure the whole town wanted to avoid. 

The man stood on his own now, free from what he deemed and feigned support from the councilman.

“I am not saying these things to place fear!” You were shocked at the booming delivery of his statement. Everyone was silent now, not expecting the situation to take the turn it did. “I witnessed it on my own, and though no one else but me did, it does not mean what I saw was not real! Who knows how close it will get to us? Who knows if it will stop not only at our game but turn us into its own?!” 

If the air could somehow grow colder, it did in that moment. You, obviously, as well as the other nearly hundred people surrounding the man, had no idea what he was letting on about, but the sound of what he was saying plus his strained, clearly fearful tone was enough to put you on edge as well.

You felt your friend grip your wrist–you were sure she was suddenly fearful for her husband, who could have been in the way of whatever monstrosity this man claims to have seen. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know yourself.

“Nonsense!” Another elder walked into the circle and up to the man, gripping his shoulder suddenly and speaking to him closely, the words undecipherable. Your attention was diverted to the right, where the elder had come from, the sounds of hooves clopping and wheels churning over rock growing louder. The hunters had come back, and surely someone had filled the rest of the councilmen in on what was going on. Whether or not the townsfolk would also be filled in, remained the question. 

“Everybody!” One of the hunters strode into the center, whom you recognized as their lead, bringing quiet amongst the curious whispering. “I apologize on the behalf of my team for invoking any sort of fear just now. We had a… peculiar encounter on our journey today. With market approaching, the stress of needing a hefty catch along with the preparation of rationing for the hibernating months takes a toll on all of us, some more than others.” He projected his voice with ease, breath coming off in plumes of translucent steam. The scene was entirely chiaroscuro from the rapidly dimming sky and the square lamps up above. “A quick dash by a wolf may scare some of us if we did not see the beast to begin with. Rest assured, we have returned unharmed, and the market will commence this upcoming weekend with enough game for each family’s share. Goodnight!” 

Though a few patrons on the outside of the circle began to disperse, you could see that many did not want to, as drama such as what just transpired was not common in this village. There were no liars, or dramatics, and if there were, it was taken care of so fast that news never got its chance to travel to you. The crowd thinned, but you and your friend stayed put, watching the wagons roll in with slumped deer, hanging rabbits and flayed birds. You felt her grip loosen when her husband sat atop his own wagon now rolling in behind the rest, but you were watching the silent scene happening beyond the newcomers. 

The man who had drawn the crowd was speaking, in what looked to be a rather tense manner, to the man who addressed the audience. Speaking to him as if he betrayed his word, as if he were calling him a fool, or a liar. Whatever was being exchanged between the two was not that of civil camaraderie, but something eager to be settled and swept away. Whatever the intended goal of the man's words to dispel the crowd were, you knew the effect was opposite on you and many others standing around. You knew you would be thinking about it until the market has come and gone, and possibly until whatever threat was out there was defeated.

–

Dark corners of your house had you jumping like never before, even when you could walk through it with a blindfold on, and backwards. 

Admittedly, though being half-heartedly reassured that what he saw out there was nothing more than an unfortunately large wolf, your aquaintance’s husband was kind with his intentions in not spreading a mass hysteria, which he claimed was going to happen if no one tried to counter the claim made in the square the night prior.

The crowd dispersed not too long after that, and after hearing that you were offering up your own portion of meat to share with a family of five, her husband insisted you kept it for yourself, and you joined them for a cut of fresh venison that he just secured that day. 

Though you were now fed for the night and had the animal to spare for the next few, it did you little good in resting your growing worries about a potential danger outside of the town. You knew the men go far to hunt, further each day to find greater populations, but who knew how fast it was? Who knew how strongly it would be drawn to a whole commune of people? Was it carnivorous? Was it big enough to eat a human? Ravage a whole town?

You knew these worries were now getting out of hand–if this were the case, hunting season for the market was about to end and every man willing to kill an animal would be at every corner of the town. But whatever was living in the forest was well adapted to roaming in the dark…

You slept after a while, only after making sure multiple times that the door was locked and the windows bolted tightly. Your heart rate increased at the squeaking floorboards, sounds you were well accustomed to, sounds that now felt like they were intrusions. You now wish you had not gone out to your home that night, if you hadn’t heard this yourself, if you only heard of what went down from someone else, you would have been much more comfortable. But having been there, having heard his tone, your skin would not settle.

And truth be told, you believed what he claimed. Granted, what he was claiming was very vague, and no one had anything better to clear it, but it took a very skilled trickster to sound that convincing. You knew it was no lie.

Knowing there was no one else to turn to for this, though, you had to live as if that is exactly what it was. A deception, an illusion, a truly unfortunate mistake. What else?

This is what you repeated to yourself all day. An emergency would have been declared by now, and the men went out hunting at dawn like they always did during this season. Things were fine. It would be taken care of, you had to believe it.

The next day brought the same as yesterday, minus the showcase. The men left once again for hunting, and you were popping around the square finding neighbors to help them prepare for either their market stall or their rations for the freeze. The incident was mostly off of your mind while you stayed busy, but it was brought back to the forefront once again when the horses pulled their wagons in much too early, and the men rounded the square in what looked to be a secret meeting.

Like the previous day, minus the crowd, everyone around the town fulfilling their own chores stopped and stared, knowing this was out of the ordinary for any hunting season. There would be no reason for the men to return early, and there was a next-to-zero chance that there was no game frotting about in the forest. 

You grew cold, a sensation unrelated to the weather surrounding you, the type of cold that traveled through your veins and wrapped around your bones. You recalled what your friend had said over the vegetables yesterday, “I am worried… He’s told me there’s oddly less game this year than the previous few.” 

Could that be the issue at hand? Were there really no animals left to catch? Couldn’t be… this had never happened, and you knew the whole commune was conscious about their meat intake, giving the populations the whole year to recover their numbers, and the men chose different cardinal directions to travel each season; it seemed impossible. And yet, why were they back with empty carriages?

You spotted your friend’s husband among the men, and felt a surge in your curiosity. You gently parted from the mother you were helping to carry in grain and stalked over, your footsteps becoming quicker with each strike to the ground.

You called out to him and he turned, not being a part of the group conspiring with the councilmen.

“What is it? This can’t be good.” Your breath was ragged from your pace in the biting weather. That, and the addition of anxiously waiting for the answer.

He shook his head and looked around. “I… I don’t know what I can say. There was…” He paused for a moment longer than needed. You nearly shoved him to get it out. “A beast.”

You would have gasped had the air not stung your windpipe. The shock felt like one of the horses had slammed right into you, and yet, you felt as if you knew this would be the answer all along. You believed the man yesterday, no one here had any good reason to lie about the safety of the home he resided in. The thought of that was absurd.

“There was another encounter by multiple of us this morning, it ran off very quickly, but there was carnage.” This time you really did gasp, but he raised a hand to cut off any interjections. “No men down, it was eating deer. But we walked around the area it was found once it put acres between itself and us, and there were carcasses everywhere. It was eating what we could be eating. That is what has been affecting our numbers.” 

And thus, your friend was right. He must have been seeing this all winter so far to clue her in on his personal conspiracy, and here it was being proven true. A skilled hunter he was, he would surely notice when count was declining. 

“What was it?”

He was silent for even longer this time, and you were unsure what to make of it. Once he spoke, it was not words you were expecting to hear.

“It was no wolf. Please, don’t spread it, I’m sure they will come up with some creature to tell everyone, but, I trust you’ll keep my word. It was uncanny. Quadrupedal like wolf, fur standing on end down its back, muzzle black and leather with blood over its body, but it ran like a man. It scaled trees with inches long claws, it had no howl of a wolf, it was so deep, an octave no human could dream of reaching. I felt it in my chest. My eardrums were going to rupture, I was sure of it.”

You stood still, sure your body had turned to stone. There was no way the words he was speaking were true, but the situation holds solid here as well: why would he lie? This man knew you well, you were always round their house to share meals and extend help, he wouldn’t think about putting an irrational fear into you. It made no sense. Yet, that meant this is truly what he had seen…

“Do not say a word… I know they will tell the town something else but someone must know what I have seen. You understand…” 

You did understand, after all, how could he burden his wife with the knowledge of what he had seen? She would become eternally frightened, she would never let her children outside, possibly never want him to partake in a hunt again. You decided to bear this weight with him, it was the least you figured you could do.

“We crossed a squadron of men from another town, out east. We told them we were having some… trouble. They confided in us the same. They did not give away any details but I’m sure that they saw the same creature. Anyway… they offered to help us hunt it down. They should be arriving shortly.” He paused again and looked around. The group of men was now thinning, and you saw many looked to be in distress. You did not know what you could do for them, or for the safety of the community. “It’s safe right now while we are all here, but once we depart again go right back inside, you know.” He stalked away from you to join the rest of the men still discussing with one another. You sighed.

You felt no better knowing this now, obviously; you had to move with caution and you could not take any chances. You didn’t often leave your home during the winter once the sun had set but now you must be certain to remember it. This would be a tough winter, and you hoped the hunters would have it taken care of immediately.

In no world did you think such a beast would exist. You weren’t even sure what to call it, how to describe it. The closest word, without having seen this cosmic beast, was werewolf; you knew there were some legends of werewolves existing within this region, but these are oral tales passed down to scare children into staying in their houses at night and to not run off too far during the day. Tales made to keep them obedient, they were not supposed to be warnings.

Swallowing the lump of fear now present in your chest, you returned to your duties, saying not much at all when asked what was going on. You kept your word, and besides, who would believe you?

Working away the thoughts, they were once again drawn back to the present when the sound of heavy footfall echoed from a trail between town buildings. You looked up and waited for the sound to grow closer. The hunters all convened at the moment they heard it as well, and there entered another 20 or so men from what you assumed was the eastern town that he had been telling you about. They didn’t look much different from the men of your village, save for their primary choice of hide was a deeper brown than your town’s standard tan. 

You felt a slight weight off your shoulders at the sight of all of the men, equipped with their individual weapons slung across their shoulders, but you worried for their safety once they were set out on their mission to defeat the beast.

More talking and strategizing ensued, and you stood to the side to watch them sort themselves out into small groups, presumably to cover area faster. While scanning the tableau, your eye caught a sight of your friend off to the side, two of her children huddled behind her large skirt. You padded over to them.

Once you approached, speaking in a hushed tone, you addressed her, “This is the state of things then?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t believe it. If they find nothing until the market, most of the catch from yesterday will be ours. We don’t even know how much we will be able to trade off. Not like this…” You turned to look back at the men. There were five groups now, and one was making their way over to where the two, or four, of you stood. Her husband was at the front.

They spoke together softly for a moment, and you took the time to discreetly survey the rest of the men who followed him over. 

Again, they all looked similar to your eyes; similar stature, and dress, and they resembled those of your own village as well. You figured that luck was somewhere among the indescribable chaos they witnessed to have run into reinforcements. 

He started talking to you, and you noticed a few of your other neighbors were standing by. He was introducing them all by first name and their village. All standard, you expected this if there were going to be nearby.

There were 6 men to this group total, four of them being strangers. “You’ll see us around, so don't hesitate to also ask for our help,” One of them spoke, voice much deeper than the man you were familiar with. “We are stronger as a unit.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, holding in the cold, and also seeking some inner comfort, as the severity of the situation was starting to dawn.

You were about to walk away and lock up at home when a voice interrupted, “Excuse me. I am late… I apologize. I have been added to your group.”

The group of men parted as they turned around to stare at the newcomer, who you could only assume was someone from their village. They were absurdly quiet for the first moment, letting him take the spotlight from the others.

This man looked nothing like an ordinary villager.

While the men surrounding you were equipped with thick hide jackets lined with fur for warmth and the most contrast to be seen on them was the white trim to their dark hair, this man stood out and would possibly never blend in. He had a deep blue jacket, buttoned and belted together, looking like it awfully lacked in layers, yet he gave no sign of being cold at all. His black pants were accessorized with pockets up and down both legs, and he wore black leather boots, the kind you only saw in mainland areas much further south. He did not get any of this dress from here, nor within hundreds of miles from anywhere around here. 

After scrutinizing his wardrobe, you raised your eyes to await the next words he spoke. Yet, the looks of his face solidified the fact that this man was not only not a villager, he was certainly no native to these areas.

His hair, compared to everyone’s around, was a shocking deep blonde, a hair color you hadn’t seen in years, and had only seen on young children. He was uncharacteristically clean, no signs of having been hunting at all this day, and while most men chose to sport thick facial hair for weather protection, only the light skin and harsh contours of his face were present. And his eyes… those bright blue eyes…

They locked on yours. Heat seared through your veins, the rings of your vision fuzzed, the sky whited out, blood was racing into your head then back out, a wave of dizziness hit you at full force, your fingers went numb then regained feeling all at once, your chest constricted, your knees were about to give out–then he looked away. The chill of the winter returned. You were standing on solid ground.

You were breathless. No one seemed to notice any shift in the atmosphere, except for you. Your hands clutched your jacket even tighter.

“Where are you coming from? I know of no towns that look like… not us.” One of the men said, avoiding the obvious state that he was clearly not local.

“No, I am not from here. I am from much further north. I was passing by and heard word that there was a hunt that needed assistance and… I have no further pressing issues. I am dedicating myself to your cause. My name is Leon.”

Voice like butter, it slid through your ears and caressed your brain, Leon stood with a confidence unknown to you. He held himself as if he were the biggest man in the town and to you, it appeared he was, standing at least 3 inches or more above everyone in this commune. This man was an enigma. Leon was a complete mystery to behold.

“Well,” Your friend’s husband spoke from next to you, making you jump slightly, forgetting he was even involved with this. “We are glad to have you then, Leon. We hope to have this under control within the next few days, we need to keep our market tradition alive.” He clapped the other men on the back and they huddled once again, ready to take off until evening.

You breathed in deeply, not feeling any pain you may have expected. You figured you were suddenly feeling down, from what, who knew, but you were not well. You turned to your friend.

“I… I am not feeling too well, I think I am going to go for the night. I would stay, but I don’t think I should.” Your voice felt feeble, but she seemed to detect no indifference.

“Oh, are you sure? I can bring you what we have left, don’t stress yourself.”

You shook your head. “No, no, don’t worry about me, I have plenty. I need to lay down. Thank you, though.” With a nod from her, you turned your back on her and speed walked across the square, ducking through all of the patrons standing around just as confused as you felt earlier. There was still confusion, but for an entirely different reason.

Who was Leon? There was no way he was simply passing through from a village up north, which introduced more confusion into the equation, because it certainly did not explain the dress. Why would he be dressed for much higher temperature climates up north? There was just no reason…

And those sensations… they were unexplainable to you, yet you had to write them off as coincidence of timing, the shock of seeing the newcomer, some other third party element that caused you to take ill. There was no other way to explain it. It was a mix of unfortunate timing, and he was another man helping the search to keep the grounds safe. Just another man.

But that face was persistent behind your eyelids.

–

The men set out on the hunt officially the next day.

They spent the previous night mapping out routes and directions that each of them would take to avoid overlap and to cover as much area as possible. Your friend came by your house that morning to check on you; she relayed the information her husband had told her later that night, and you felt at least relieved that they were getting out there.

That night you were restless, you tossed and turned and were certain that you got little to no sleep at all. Your body wanted the rest so bad, but your mind would not let you.

You kept feeling the shock of connecting your gaze with Leon’s. You felt like you were at the edge of a nightmare every time you started to drift, and terrified to wake up in one, your mind subconsciously refused. You wanted to sleep, but you knew you could not sleep the day away. Maybe, you supposed, hard work today will put you to sleep tonight.

You finally brought that rabbit up that you had been delivered a few days ago. After the family insisted that you kept it while you shared some of their venison with them, you put it in the underground storage, where it was chilled enough to preserve, yet not freeze. You laid it on the counter, pleased to see you could still save the fur. Your gaze lingered on it.

Its eyes were closed. There were four puncture marks around the head and neck, they didn’t bleed too much. It looked as if it were just sleeping; the position did not suggest any signs of rigor mortis. Eating animals and having to skin them never bothered you–it was how you were raised. Putting too much thought behind it makes things unstable, you begin to question morals, you begin to question the world, but you supposed that was the inherent position of man on Earth.

Who had given you this rabbit? That had still gone unanswered, and you weren’t sure you would ever find out. Nonetheless, you were not going to run in circles to find the mystery gifter when you were hungry, and there was fresh meat on the table for dinner.

You were seated to eat dinner alone after a day of doing last minute preparation before the winter market. It was slated to happen in two days, you were helping mothers around the square fill their grain portions and make room in their storage chests. You did all of this for yourself in between, but as you’ve said to your friend multiple times before, you were only one person, and you could ration it should you need to.

You made the whole rabbit. It was small enough, and you could eat the other half tomorrow. It would cool down just fine in the underground storage overnight. 

The candlelight on your table flickered. You were suddenly afraid of it going dark, you had to have your matches nearby in case of this happening. You already knew you would be caged with fear, unable to move, any sense of navigation in the dark stripped from you.

Putting the rabbit in a cloth wrap, you placed it into your underground storage, making a mental note to bring it up in the morning to prevent it from freezing through. You extinguished the candles, but not before setting a small fire in the hearth, enough wood inside to provide you with light until you were able to fall asleep, but nothing too big to risk a hazard.

You hoped with food in you and a fire going slowly would ease you off to sleep, and let you rest thoroughly this time–it was everything but.

Your eyes shot open. You faced the dark, unable to gather your bearings for a moment. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, feeling the pinch of pine needles under your clothing. You looked down, desperate to figure out the situation. Hearing the wind howl and not feeling the warmth that your home would be providing you, your vision returned slowly, and your mind pieced it all together.

You were in a forest. Where exactly, you could not tell. You did not often journey into the forest, there was no reason for you to be out there. This aside, out there you were, and you had to find a way back.

Your legs were unsturdy, but you forced them in place, holding your balance upright as you took weary steps over the foliage. The wind occasionally whipped your face and you squinted to avoid it, eyes getting teary and fingers growing numb.

All around you in each cardinal direction was nothing but the dark blanket of night and more trees. You could see the tips of leaves up on the canopy painted by moonlight, and now that you adjusted to the dimness, she was your guidance.

The lack of sound should have been comforting, yet you found it ultimately disturbing. There should be more life around you, yet among the vast acres of wildlife, you were somehow the only one making any noise, the only one to exist here. It was wrong. Something was deeply wrong.

A twig snapping caught your attention. You held your breath in a silent gasp and turned, trying to source the cause. You held as still as the wind would render you, but fear was your driving force, and you became an impenetrable wall while facing the danger. 

Seeing nothing and hearing no more, you turned, ready to continue your trek. Mere seconds after you took another step, yet another branch snap rang out, this time, it was only a handful of paces in front of you. Your ears were not deceiving you, you knew this was not a sound that you had produced, meaning there was something, someone else out there. They could see you, no doubt about it, yet you were blind to them.

Your body refused to cooperate. You could not take any more steps forward despite possibly being in direct vicinity of the danger. As much force as you applied, your limbs never gave way, and you were rooted to the ground, eyes peeled on the ages old trees in front of you, watching as the darkness uncovered itself.

A shadowy mist separated itself from the trees. It hung, suspended in midair, not making any attempts to move, until after a few seconds, it began to evolve, tendrils of smoke solidifying into body parts, horridly long body parts and skin that shone under the moonlight, a sheen to it that was not possible for any human to achieve. Ice blue eyes pierced the vast emptiness, and as you stared into them, for whatever creature they belonged to began to take shape. You witnessed in your peripherals arms and legs, bent to support the hunched body on the ground, muscles undulating and flexing under tightly pulled skin, fur sprouting from its back, claws digging into the dirt, teeth shining like stars from a face as black as the void. It was set on you. There was no outrunning this cosmic beast.

It took no steps forward, yet you felt it’s spirit enter your proximity like a snake tightening on its prey. Your body started to tremble, tears streaking down your face, unblinking, expressionless, save for your mouth slightly agape in a silent gasp. You felt it get closer, but it physically remained, your chest tightened, and you felt the pressure on your skin. Its eyes were glowing white, saliva pooling off of its teeth, its jaw unhinged, and your brain went blank, ears ringing from the deep, droning growl it emitted. It was not felt only with your head, but your chest vibrated, your eyes blurred, you fell to your knees.

You opened your mouth finally in a blood curdling scream.

With a gasp that wracked your whole body, you shot up, hands gripping the fabric underneath you as you stared up at the dark ceiling.

A nightmare. 

You sat still, allowing your heart to steady and slowing your breath down, taking a moment to reground yourself. Nothing of what you just saw was real.

You slowly lowered yourself back down onto your bed, listening to the rustle of the blanket and the distant crackle of the dying fire. As much as you told yourself it was just a dream, the feeling it left behind was more real than you had ever felt.

You jumped again when there was a sudden series of knocks on your front door.

You bolted upright again, staring out into the dark in the direction of the door. Whoever was standing outside was not knocking again, but you had a feeling that they were not walking away when you did not answer. Though you were afraid in this moment, there was no reason you shouldn’t trust a neighbor coming to you at this time. It could be dire. You had to find out.

You lifted yourself out of bed and wrapped a light blanket around your shoulders. The fire was nearly out now, and you paused to throw another log onto it, but made that a task for after you helped who was at your door.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, making second guesses, wondering if you should just turn around and pretend you did not hear it. But that is not how things operated in this town–everyone helped everyone.

You twisted the knob and slowly opened the door, only enough to peek your face through and observe who was standing at the doorstep.

Your brow furrowed immediately when you deduced who it was. You locked eyes, and you expected the wave of intense emotion that came with it, but nothing happened. You spoke.

“Can I help you?”

He nodded curtly. “I am sorry to have woken you. I got a tad distracted on hunt today, spent a little too long down at the parlor… I don’t have anywhere to stay for tonight. If you had the room… but please don’t hesitate to close the door on me should you feel so inclined. I understand this situation I am putting you in.”

You blinked at him. You opened the door a bit more. “You… you aren’t staying at the inn?”

He looked to his left in the direction of the square. You supposed, putting a mental puzzle together right after you said it, that the inn was full from the other villagers aiding you during this time. “No vacancy.” As expected.

You stared at him for a moment longer. A breeze hit your face, and you shuddered. You figured he was faring much worse wandering outside in this weather.

“Okay… I have a mat I can pull out by the fire. I need to throw more wood onto it.” You swung the door open fully, and he stepped over the threshold. Hanging his jacket and outerwear on the hooks, you felt his eyes follow you as you opened your wardrobe and unrolled the spare mat you had. You suddenly felt pressure to perform in your own home. Shaking your head, you threw two small logs onto the fire and waited for it to come to life.

“Again, I am sorry to wake you. You know, your comrade has spoken of you highly, and I figure a full house such as his would not have kindly taken me in at this time.” You turned to look at him, having followed you to the fire, taking a seat on the floor on top of the mat. The angles of his face created harsh shadows under his brow bone. He looked unscathed. Hadn’t he been outside all day?

“It’s alright, I… I had just woken up anyway. Don’t sleep fully through the night sometimes.” He nodded, but did not speak. You poked the last log fully into the embers for it to ignite, warming the house for a few hours longer. “This season is more stress than it usually is, I imagine that has a lot to do with it.”

“Yes, I can tell many of these men are unsure about how to conduct themselves right now. I can’t say I blame them though. I’m sorry, my name is Leon, by the way, I should have started with that before asking for your hospitality.”

You nodded. “Yes, Leon, I remember,” You spoke wistfully. “How did you get to be wandering this late at night? Everything should have closed hours ago if I know what time it is.” He blinked slowly at you, no expressions on his face. 

“I am much accustomed to the darkness. I like to spend some of my time wandering around and seeing what is open, where I can go, and if that results in nothing for me, then I turn and leave. But, I came here for a reason and I cannot abandon the cause that I volunteered to contribute to, and it seems the inn I had last spent time in was already housing those from the east who are doing the same. I came from there. They had a small parlor, but I was forced out once their latest hour of operation came.” Leon shrugged. “And as I said, I recall having heard the introductions of those who live nearby. My first gamble paid off.”

You said nothing to this. His voice was sliding through your head like silk, and his face moved as if it were a statue enchanted. His aura was unlike any other you have encountered, and you found yourself wondering if this is what people from farther regions were truly like, or if there was something about him that no other could replicate.

“Well, I have a half of a rabbit left that I ate for supper if you are hungry. I would rather it get eaten while it has just recently been cooked.”

He looked over to the kitchen, shrouded in shadow. Pieces of his hair stuck together in blades of blonde, yet it looked purposefully tousled and cleaned. The bare white tunic he wore was clearly too light for the winter weather, yet he seemed unbothered by it.

“I would be lying if I said rabbit weren’t my favorite, but I will decline. I am fair off for the time being. I can snatch one up tomorrow.” He scooted himself back so he was resting against the wall, still facing the fire, where you were sitting. The heat of it was licking your skin now, lulling you back into a drowsy state. As much as you wanted to return to the loft bed to sleep, you couldn’t abandon company.

“So, where do you come from Leon? I remember you saying north but… I have not encountered any northerners for quite some time, I honestly forgot there was anyone up there at all.”

He shrugged again. Before he started talking, you moved from the fire, fearing the heat may put you back to sleep right where you sat. “I do come from the north, but I have always been a roamer. I have visited various villages and small cities, anything that the forest wraps around. I explore. I lend my help when needed.” 

“You’re nomadic? How is that possible in the weather the north gets?”

He rolled his head to the side from where it was resting on the wall. His face was painted orange. “I have learned to adapt. I much prefer living that way.”

You stared again, aware that he was aware of how long you were looking at him. Every answer he gave only puzzled you more. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

He quirked his mouth in a small smirk. You ignored the sudden heat surge from the fire that was surely not growing any larger. “I find a way to make everything possible.”

A spell of silence fell over you. You could feel the sleep creeping back under your eyelids, and wanted to return to the loft.

“Do you need anything else? I’m sorry I don’t prepare for visitors too often…” Leon had closed his eyes, hands wrapped around the blanket off of your small sofa and a spare pillow. 

He shook his head slightly. “It is more than enough, I can’t come into your home at dead of night and demand more than you’ve given me. It is plenty for me to be ready to set out with them in the morning.”

You nodded your head and went to stand. Before you even made it a few paces away from him, you turned again, a sudden fear overcoming you.

“Do you think you’ll be able to catch… it? It’s been driving me crazy, it feels. It’s making my mind reel.”

He turned his head and looked over at you now, half of his face hidden in shadow. A few pieces of his yellow hair fell onto his forehead. “I do believe so. If there is anything to catch out there at all.”

Your brow scrunched. “Do you believe there is nothing out there?”

He sighed. The light made the rise and fall of his chest visible. You watched the way his shirt tightened around his torso with the movement. “I think the case is, more often than not, that one person spreads a moment of hysteria and it catches on. There might be something out there, there might not.”

You recall the conversation you had had with your friend’s husband the other day. He had seen it himself, and you knew he wouldn’t lie. Were Leon’s experiences the only premonition he was speaking from? You could only assume that was the case with him. But as to how he could have been nomadic his whole life and never come across a wicked beast… you couldn’t imagine the likelihood of that scenario.

“I feel that the fear that man held was not fake when he told us all what he saw… I believe him.”

Leon stared at you. The fire glinted in his eyes. They looked impossibly dark and deep from where you were standing. “What do you think it was out there?”

You breathed in and cast your gaze down. You honestly were not sure what you believed. Your logical mind, and the mind that wanted to keep everyone safe, told yourself that it was a wolf. A large wolf that was not afraid of people. But the mind of yours that likes to wander is a different story.

“I think… I think there is an animal. And it is getting closer. So, it makes me worried.” Leon nodded as you spoke, but he offered no insight. “There’s rumors.”

“Rumors? Spread by the men on the hunt or the children eager for more legends to pass on?” You could hear the smirk in Leon’s voice without needing to look up. It made you clench your jaw.

“Rumors that it is otherworldly.” You shrugged. “Who am I to deny the existence of that which I cannot claim to have proof of it not?” You looked up again to Leon, who also had his eyes cast down. A chill washed over you despite the fire still burning. “Could be a werewolf.”

Leon’s eyes snapped up at that. Your head seared with a sudden migraine spike, and your vision went blurry. Your muscles and organs felt ice cold yet your skin burned, both sensations merging to keep you rooted to the spot. All the air left your lungs, and your throat went dry. You felt your knees grow weaker until they could no longer bear your weight, and you registered the sound of your body hitting the floor, but felt none of the pain from the impact. Your vision went black.

When you awoke again, the sun was peeking over the horizon and you were in your bed. Leon was not in the house.

–

You carried an air of confusion with you for the better part of the day. You had not seen Leon once since he left your house, and the only evidence left behind that you knew he was there for sure was the spare mat out on the floor, the blanket folded neatly and the pillow stacked on top of it. You didn’t hear him leave, but then again, you don’t remember going upstairs at all.

Did you black out? Have a fainting spell? That could be the only explanation–what else could you attribute it to? This was a new experience for you, as you had never had any issues like this before with your health (that you knew of) and had no past encounters that would offer you any sort of explanation other than a sudden bout of fainting. You were at least glad that Leon was there; he was the only person around to have put you back into your bed, unless you really had woken up and lost your memory of it.

And Leon–you could barely even remember the conversation happening when you fainted in the middle of it. Though you were not this kind of person and always think the better of everyone, you mind did of course do a mental checklist of everything that could have been blamed on Leon. You drank nothing and ate nothing while he was in the house. You offered him half your rabbit, but he declined. You kept your eyes on him at all times while he was in the house, save for the obvious part when you were unconscious, and he left the house in no state of disarray when you woke. Your body felt intact and unharmed, and you mentally felt comfortable with the idea that he simply carried you back to your bed, and hopefully returned downstairs. You hated that train of thought, but you had to cover all bases.

Today was the final day before the market. There was a group of men going out to finish a hunt while the rest of those who usually go out were split up to finish coverage looking for the wild animal that some had seen. You felt increasingly nervous when you thought about this hunt, taking into account what your friend’s husband had told you he had seen. It sounded like an alien. That thought terrified you, knowing something was roaming about that you had no relation to, no knowledge of its existence, and not a clue at all on what it could do to you or the others around. A true monster.

You stopped short, having been struck with the memories from last night. Leon arriving at your house asking for shelter was not the only odd thing that happened–you had a nightmare.

You rarely dreamed at all, nevermind having a nightmare. You can vividly recall what transpired now, though, as you think back on it. You remember being in the woods alone; cold and dark and the infinite stretch of trees the only other things out there with you. And that beast… it felt far too real for you to be comfortable with. 

The image of it was now seared into your brain, and every noise coming from the town made you jump. Was this what was out there? Was that the monster to behold? If that answer was yes… you decided you would be better off if you didn’t know.

A shouting was heard from across the square. Through the clearing of the trees, you saw a wagon being pulled in. You were brought back to a state of confusion once more at seeing this, knowing it was much too early for anyone to return. You stalked closer to where it would be unloaded, only growing more worried and anxious when you saw there was no game upon it at all, but rather, a body.

You gasped and stopped walking, instinctively reaching out to those walking next to you to stop them from seeing as well. You heard more gasps and whispers, felt others grabbing onto you and you grabbed back for support. You watched as they lifted a man from the back of the wagon, looking utterly pale, limbs swinging back and forth as he was carried to a makeshift gurney that someone had rushed out. You felt at a loss for breath. What had happened on this hunt that caused a lost life?

Some people beside you started shouting to those coming in from the hunt. Asking questions on what had happened, who else was hurt and lost, was anyone coming back at all, and was it the wolf that had done this.

One of the men walked closer, chatting with a man from the council. He was speaking loud enough, purposefully, to let everyone know what had happened.

“We saw it, and we were close to taking it down. We had our rifles pointed and ready, and… by god, I don’t know, but we were ready and suddenly we lost track of where it went. I blinked and everything disappeared.” More whispers broke out from next to you, you almost turned and shushed them so you could hear. “It popped up again through the trees, running, someone shot and we thought it hit. It took a hit on the side of its head, its ear… but it kept going, kept running, then it got to one of our men somehow.” He shook his head. “It… it got his neck, and he bled out so fast, he…” He brought his hand up to swipe at his chin, clearly in distress from seeing one of his men go down. You closed your eyes, you could not stomach to listen anymore.

You turned and made haste back to your home. You wanted to be inside suddenly, safe from the outside. You would go seek the comfort of your friend, but you knew you would have to put on a face not to worry her children. You did not have that energy in you right now, you needed to be alone.

You had hoped for positive news on the return of the men, but hearing this, you knew nothing good could come out of their mouths next. If whatever was out there was taking down the men that were sent to protect those who live within these communities' walls, then who is to say how safe anyone inside is now…

Your mind was reeling as you shut yourself into your home. You found yourself no longer wanting to be outside, no longer wanting to help out of your own selflessness due to the fear of that being the last time you would help anyone, or worse, witness someone else’s unfortunate end to their destiny. The mess this has become was too much for you to swallow. You were nearly drowning in your fear.

You didn’t move positions all night, watching the sky go from a dimly lit gray to a dark one, then deep navy, then black. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you had no intention of moving. Emotion gripped your stomach, making you unable to eat, not wanting to, not wanting to simply get up.

The fire was dying slowly, and the only motivator for you to move right now was the threat of being in the dark. You pushed yourself up off the mat you had not yet put away to throw another couple of logs on the fire. You stared, hunched, as they began to catch fire and watched as their layers were peeled back by the flames, as the bark curled and crumbled to ash, and your face was basked in intense heat that you almost couldn’t free yourself from.

Deep in a trance, you were startled when a series of knocks sounded at the door. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound, blood flowing like a rushing river, knowing who would be behind the door but still being afraid to make the move and let him in.

Your brain was yelling at you to get up and move, to be a good person, the person you were, but something inside of you was still terrified. Terrified that if you let him in, the beast would sneak in with him.

You finally stood, deciding to do the right thing, and perhaps, having some company below you while you slept might ease the worry.

You grasped the cold door handle and turned slowly. Through the light cast from the fire, a sliver of his face was illuminated. Part of his eye was clear under the shadow from his brow, and he looked to be glistening in what you guessed was sweat, but you couldn’t imagine how he could be sweating in this weather. Strands of hair were falling over his face. He looked menacing in this moment, yet he waited for your invitation to even speak first.

“You’re here again.” You spoke in a low whisper, knowing he could hear with the silent world around you.

“You’re awake to greet me again,” Leon’s voice was a low rumble, clenching your heart with emotion, untangling the strings of fear in your ribcage. “I fear I must ask for safety from you once more. It is… the same situation as yesterday with none of the outsiders leaving your grounds yet.”

You breathed in, feeling the cold air of the outdoors fill your lungs. It cleared your head a little bit. Last night was fine, it was you lending a hand to someone who needed it and it did you no harm. There was no reason to turn Leon down this time.

“Sure. I still have your setup by the fire.”

Swinging the door open let in a rush of cold air, but you welcomed it for a moment, feeling yourself calm down from the heat of the house and the mental mess you have been creating. Leon shed his jacket and boots and walked himself over to the mat on the floor, collapsing into a barely sitting position, resting his upper body on the wall behind him. From where you stood in the kitchen after closing and locking up the door, you could see his shirt was almost soaked through.

You swallowed, carefully studying the curves of his arms and the way his back flexed to accommodate his new position, head tilted and exposing the flesh of his neck to you, oranges and yellows dancing over the sheen on his skin, bringing it to life. You took careful steps over, taking a seat by the fire once more.

“Did I wake you again?” His voice was low and raspy, and without moving your eyes from the floor, focusing on nothing, you knew he was looking at you.

“No,” You shook your head. “I was already awake.” 

He hummed. “Another nightmare?” He questioned. You swallowed, not liking the unwelcome recollection of that dream, trying to focus on the present and the tangible person in front of you, not the wretched beast of your darkest dreams. Anything to be distracted from… everything.

Your breath caught in your throat at once, however, upon a dawning realization: Leon should not know about the nightmare.

You suddenly shot your gaze upward, ready to question him, when your thoughts completely derailed.

You gasped. “Leon! Your ear… you’re bleeding…” You stood up and ran to the kitchen, wetting a rag in your basin. Wringing it out, dripping on the way over, you pressed it to the right side of Leon’s head, taking his face in your other free hand. He did not resist, rather he let you pamper him; he seemed to not care about the dripping and drying blood on his face and clothes.

You cleaned his skin to a degree, the wound still looked fresh, but it stopped dripping blood for now. The rag would have to be thrown away.

“How did this happen, Leon? Did you get hurt on the hunt?” You tried to wipe away some of the fresh blood from his shirt, but it merely smudged it. You sighed and stood, deciding to leave it, knowing he didn’t seem to care either way if he was covered in blood or not.

You heard him breathe in deeply. “You can say that.” You glanced back over your shoulder, growing a bit weary to see he was barely moving positions. It would be crazy from what looked to just be a flesh wound on his ear, but you hoped that luck would not have it so he would die in your home on you.

You walked back over to him and crouched slowly again, still by the fire, but closer to him, in case of more blood emergencies. His skin was unnaturally shiny; you could tell he was wet, but the fire was not nearly strong enough for it to be sweat.

“Is everything alright? You seem ill, I think you should see the medic–”

“No, I’m fine.” He cut you off. His tone was much more stern than he had been with you just prior, and the night before. You watched the muscles in his throat contract as he gulped. He was clearly unwell, but you would not push it anymore. “It’s just been a long night. I should start listening to my body when it is telling me enough is enough.”

You nodded, holding yourself back from getting up and fetching all the blankets you had left in the house. Sweating this profusely while it is not nearly the correct weather for it could only mean a fever. But this was still a man you did not know well enough, and you did not want to push on any boundaries where you didn’t know where the line was.

“Leon…” You started gently. He turned his head to regard you. His gaze was as hot as the burning logs beside you. He said nothing, eyes urging you to continue. “I worry that you are unwell. Please tell me what I can do for you. Or… tell me what you would like me to do for you.”

He quirked a smile at this. You felt a rush of cold under your thick wardrobe. “I need you to stop worrying. I know I look ill but I give you my word that I will be just fine. I would have let you know if this was new for me… but I have seen it before.” He shook his head and turned away again. “I will be fine come morning.” He fell into silence again. You watched the veins in his neck dip and bob with the breaths and swallows he took, feeling torn between two distinct emotions inside of you, knowing one came from the humanitarian you were raised to be, and the other, a deep, twisted lust that you felt crawling back up from the grave you buried it in a long time ago.

The fact of the current, unfortunate, situation was this–Leon was a very attractive man. This you could not deny. No amount of strangeness between you two would make you blind to this fact. There was no arguing against saying this as a statement, this man was taller than any other man you saw daily, he was nearly twice their size as well. His face was carved of the smoothest marble, and the way his hair sat brought even more emotion than there already was to the deep inset of his brow bone. With his shirt dampened with sweat, it clung to the hills and valleys of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, and your eyes were glued. You felt a wave of guilt rise, knowing you were taking pleasure in your viewing when he was in such a state, but you could not look away. You just could not.

After what felt like long, agonizing seconds of admiring his build, your eyes drifted upward again to meet his, and you felt a wave of shame pass over as you realized he was already looking at you.

“So astonished by meeting someone like me?” He looked smug without so much as a hint of a smile, his blue eyes practically radiating in the firelight.

“I’ve never seen anyone like you around here.” You choked out, suddenly barely able to speak. 

“No surprise there. There is no one else like me to come wandering by.” He barely moved as he spoke, save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed raggedly. “I know no one here has seen someone like me before, in fact. It is all the same from years past when I came through the first time. It is like history is re-living itself.

“You’ve been here before?” You asked with mild shock, knowing no one has ever alluded to a mysterious traveller who has stopped by. Word would have gotten around no matter how long ago it was–even when you are greeted by others of villages far, they look much more similar to you than they do to Leon.

He stared at you for a moment longer before continuing. “Many, many years ago. Nothing has changed. Not that I would have expected it to, the method of living here has worked for decades so why alter it? Why come in and destroy a civilization like I’m stepping on an anthill just because it is in the way of the path I travel? I could have. I didn’t, though. It’s more fun to be the looming threat over the colony and lead a single ant or two astray, leaving the rest wondering if anything ever happened at all years down the line.” 

You felt your body tense with each word he spoke. What was he saying? How had he been here before, long enough before to know decades of history about the commune? Not even you had that many years of life itself to be able to speak for.

This time, a grin spread on his face. You were confusing the emotions blooming inside of you again.

“I…” Chest constricting, you tried to talk through it. You could only muster a loud whisper. “I don’t understand.” 

“How could you? It’s more than one person can bear witness to. The legends always have some concrete event to back them up.” He shifted, brows furrowed as if he were in pain. You felt yourself slightly less inclined to want to help him. The glow of the fire against his skin was turning him even more golden, it seemed like it was happening without help from the flames. “Still have that rabbit?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “No, I ate it already. I am sorry if you wanted it.”

Leon shook his head in response to this. “No, I didn’t want it. Just curious. It was for you, not for you to share.”

You sat up straighter, leaning forward toward him only an inch. “The rabbit was from you?”

He breathed a laugh at this. “Well, who else do you think left it?”

You shook your head. “But… you weren't even here when that was left for me. You didn’t show up until nearly two days later. How?”

Leon sat forward to meet you. He was now inches away from your face, and while on the surface rippled a thin layer of fear, you were far braver than to back down in front of him. The swelling heat of emotion inside of you was enough for you to keep your stance. “I’ve been here. I am not new, and I never have been.” You stared in defiance at him, trying to untie whatever knot he was creating with his words. “I might be new to you, but these grounds are not new to me. You are my ants. I stand over you and watch how you behave in my shadow. Generations come and go from the anthill, but I am always outside watching how tall it gets. Waiting for it to collapse. Seeing how many ants can wander away before the whole colony is gone.”

You tried to shake your head, but you were rooted in place. His eyes burned a hole through you, and they almost unnaturally glowed. He took a deep breath in and rolled his head back, and you unabashedly watched the languid movement the skin of his throat made against the stretch. 

“I… like to watch it and yet… I can’t help but play a game with them every once in a while.”

His eyes were back on yours now. His face showed no signs of discomfort, or any sort of illness it seemed he was sporting minutes ago. The shadows and contours of his face gave him a harsh look, and his stare felt like he knew everything about you. The longer you looked into them, the more you felt yourself unravel, the more unsteady you felt in your own body. A shock passed through you at once, and you were unsure if this was natural, or a phantom being taking control. 

“Game?” You finally managed to get out.

He hummed, and you felt it in your core. “Joining in on a game of hide and seek, trying to find the one that won’t appear, yet the whole time, it is hiding right under their noses. They let it seek with them. Why would they think it hides among them?”

You did not like what he was insinuating with his words–you hoped you were misconstruing them, but you kept up rapidly, and made the connection all too easily. 

You wanted to disbelieve, yet you said it yourself: Who are you to deny the existence of that which you have no proof of living? You have the proof now. He was in front of you.

Wanting to object to his words, you opened your mouth to shut down what he was saying, but you were left speechless. No matter how hard you tried to utter one word, the effort was useless. You felt a wave come over you again.

It felt as if the oxygen in the room had thinned. Now, not only could you not speak, but you could barely breathe. You began to feel dizzy, not sure if you were swaying in the spot you were sitting or truly falling back to the floor. Your vision blurred, and all of the harsh, strong lines defining Leon’s body from the rest of the scene went soft and fuzzy, but the irises of his eyes were a beacon through the fog. They never left your gaze.

You felt the pressure of a hand around your throat, but even through the rapidly unfocusing and refocusing of your vision, you could see Leon was not touching you. Despite this, the sensation never let up, and you felt it get tighter, warmer, and you heard yourself wheeze in a breath around the grasp.

“I must say… I appreciate the mind you had to not cast aside the outlandish ideas you have heard being thrown around regarding what was happening amongst your woods… it made it all too easy for me to take residence inside you.”

The voice, Leon’s voice, was being spoken inside your brain. Your ears were only registering the crackle of the fire, but the deep reverberation of his voice was bouncing around in your head, echoing within, opening your mind to a realm of new possibilities–ones you had previously assumed impossible.

The next time your vision cleared, it stayed that way, and you felt a wash of relief upon having your sight back. The relief was short lived, however, when as your consciousness recentered itself, Leon sent you falling backwards onto your floor with one swift push to your shoulder. He was quicker to reangle himself and send his hand flying to meet your head at the point it would have collided with the hardwood, and you could only gasp as you registered this happening all too slowly for your liking.

Your back was flush with the floor and Leon was hovering above you. You felt the back of his hand underneath your head, the cushion from the wood, and your skin felt alive from his gaze as if he were touching you with invisible hands a million times over. There was no longer firelight dancing on his face, he was swathed in darkness, turning the hollows of his eyes and contours of his cheekbones even darker. But still, his blue eyes emitted a soft glow.

“How easy to lure a rabbit into a false sense of security by standing still until it forgets it saw me. How easy it is to become a presence in the mind of those that had no armor to protect themselves against me in the first place.” This time, as Leon spoke to you outloud, the voice inside your head was still tumbling around in there, making him sound as if he were in too many places at once. You felt so scrutinized under his gaze, still feeling the edge of movement restriction around you, surely still the work of him somehow.

Making as stable eye contact as you could muster, your voice returns for seconds long enough for you to choke out, “If choosing to fight a battle with those that are helpless is how you conduct your strategy, I don’t think of you as worth any nobility we had to offer you.”

He lowered himself closer to your face with swiftness unseen by human capability. “When did I say I was anything of a nobleman?”

As if unleashed by his words, a sensation similar to a boa winding itself around its prey consumed your body. You struggled to breathe in again, back arching off the floor, feeling your torso meet with his as he still held himself above you, watching you obey his command. You tore at the edges of this invisible confine, eager to fight back and prove you were not so easily controlled as he seemed to have a hunch about.

He shook his head slowly above you, laughing in a low, tumbling, growl-like sound that nearly left your ears ringing. “Fight harder. Don’t put your walls up now when I am already inside.”

At this, you stuttered in your movement, trying to make it unnoticeable, but even after it happened you thought this was stupid, as he caught the very moment you faltered. He removed the hand that was pillowing your head and put it on your chest, pressing you back down onto the floor. It was impressively, and embarrassingly, easy for him to do so considering your own struggle against it. He kept his hand there, and whatever trance he had you under made you still at his touch. As much as you wanted to fight it, your body went completely unmoving under the pressure of one hand. 

“Enough…” You rasped out. “Just take what you wanted from here and go. You took our animals and hurt our people, was that not enough?”

Leon smiled in your face. It was simultaneously horrid and mocking as it was suggestive and flirtatious. “I told you already. All I wanted was the game.” He leaned in closer once more, bringing his face into the crook of your neck. You felt his breath paint your skin, and you felt a trail of shivers race down your body at it. While you were fighting against his hold, you were also fighting to get closer to it. The hand that was pressing into your chest snaked upward, and you felt the chill of his fingertips creep up your throat and onto your chin, holding your jawline in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head to the side with the lightest of touches. You gasped at the movement, and your breath fluttered when his lips made contact. Your hands curled into fists at your side, inwardly wincing when you felt the pinch of needle-like teeth scraping the skin. His mouth came up to your ear, and the heat from his proximity filled your veins. “I am not leaving without the trophy.”

His teeth, sharp fangs like vampires, sunk into the tender flesh where your jaw connects to your skull, and you gasped, body finally able to move again, writhing against him on top of you, and it was as if he were injecting a venom into your bloodstream, you were hit with another wave of his mind control.

Any fear you had lingering turned to a burning lust. Dizziness ebbed and flowed throughout your limbs, the contact you had with Leon at any point of your bodies burned as if you touched a hot iron. Your hands were covered in pins and needles as they reached up and grabbed onto the thick bicep of the man over you, squeezing as hard as you could muster, but losing any feeling seconds later.

Leon detached himself from you and sat back on his knees; you tried to push yourself up to meet him but your body was utterly unresponsive. His lips were coated in your blood, a shade so dark you were stunned to assume it came from you at all. His eyes were shaded over completely, ice blue irises gave way to black voids, and visible blue veins spider-webbing across his neck and near his eyes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, still soaked to the touch, and he glistened as he was backlit by the fire still burning, still heating you as if nothing were wrong.

He reached his hand out and grabbed your chin again, your eyes rolling back at the searing pleasure shooting through you at his mere touch. He tilted your head backward, and the lightheaded sensation returned. He held your face firmly rooted away from him, you were now completely turned away from him, left only the sensation of touch as he rooted his other hand up your leg from under your long skirt, settling himself in between your legs. 

Your hand came up to wrap itself around his wrist, needing something to stabilize yourself as he brought himself lower upon you once more. 

You felt him return to the side of your head. “The choice is yours. Will you be the trophy of my choosing or will you pick another to make the sacrifice?”

You breathed in as deeply as his trance would allow. Your vision continued to dart in and out, blinking feeling like a process that took whole minutes rather than seconds. Your hand slowly moved its way up his forearm, feeling the flex in the muscle as a response to your touch. That alone solidified it, him reacting to your actions below him was enough.

“It will be me.” Your words came out closer to puffs of air rather than a sound, but the clarity of the delivery was not what Leon was concerned with. “It must be.”

He hummed, turning into an almost carnal growl, before transforming into a deep bass you felt in your chest, making you feel as if your ears were sure to rupture. Your whole body vibrated along with his call, both of your hands clawed upward in an attempt to grasp onto any part of him. They found purchase on the frail cloth of his shirt, ripping holes you knew he was surely not to care about as you pulled him closer. He obeyed, and you felt the prick of his teeth on your neck once more as the weight of his body crashed on top of yours, feeding delicious pleasure when he ground himself into you, locking you in a dance of lust tinged with fear as you needed him closer, needed to feel him in every regard.

The hands of his that were trailing up your skirt ripped apart with a swift motion the thin leggings you had under to sleep in for warmth, feeling the cool air grace your skin as you were now burning from the physical heat and from the heat within. You felt his tongue trace patterns across your throat, and you almost thought he had ripped out your vocal chords and you were unaware–as no matter how intense it felt like you were sighing and moaning from his pleasure, you never uttered a sound.

Your head rolled to the side as the energy to keep your body rigid fled from you, with wave after wave of your own satisfaction mixed with the toying you knew he was doing to your brain. You felt like not yourself, yet when you felt his touch, it was the only thing you could focus on. The weight of Leon on top of you paired with his roaming hands, hands that felt cold from an unhuman skin, and exceptionally warm from the friction between you. 

He now had an arm under your leg, seating himself perfectly between your legs and pressing all of his weight onto you. You felt like prey in this moment, and you knew there would be no way out here.

“I fear that when I keep going I will have no control left to stop… but I am far to gone to pretend I can back out now.” His growl was ever present in your ears, hearing him beside your face as well as inside your head. His voice alone had your eyes rolling back into your skull, your hands losing grip where they sat on his thick arms and sturdy chest.

He swiftly scooped up your fallen wrists into his own hands, pinning you down to the floor, leaving you with no energy to try and fight his strength–but you knew in your mind you did not want to try this. Regardless of whatever spell of his that had you in a clouded state, that deep emotional awakening coming from within you was telling you now, as you were pinned underneath this man-monster, I will accept that this is my way to go.

Wearily, taking in every sensation there was to feel, you brought a hand up to grace the side of his head lovingly. He moved his head further up your body again, locking eyes with yours. You felt the swell of dizzying tides take you away, reveling in the heat that you felt his body throwing off.

You fluttered in and out of consciousness, seeing his mouth dripping crimson every time he came up for air from your neck and body. You could not tell what the temperature was in the room any longer. You registered in pieces his hands still roaming over you, the sounds of his human pleasure when he reveled in your body and thrust himself deep into you, your own mind being clouded from the lust emerging through your trance. You poked back to the surface at your own climax, nearly feeling weightless from the way Leon brought it to you. 

You let Leon have you. After all, you are who he chose.

–

It was on the rising dawn of the next morning you came back to the present. You were not in your home.

You could not move an inch, but your eyes were working normally past a thin layer of fog that you couldn’t differentiate if the source was your own vision or the atmosphere around you. The leaves and twigs poking through the ground went unfelt by you, and you were unsure if you were numb, or you had been there for so long that you no longer felt it.

In your haze, you saw a small movement out in the distance.

Leon’s voice reverberated through your head. “The extent of my heart and gratitude goes to you for allowing me to exist. I will repay your honor in my many years to come.” A blanket of warmth came down onto you, surely Leon’s doing, and an exhaustion took over your senses. You sighed.

The small bundle of movement came closer. You were so still, the rabbit approached you with no caution and all curiosity. It was perfectly round. It would make the perfect meal come nightfall.

[biserker-kadan]

"So, how'd you become a crow?"

Ev'lyn blinked, peering over the fallen log at Davrin, brow cocked, "Well, starting with the easy questions are we?" she mused.

He shrugged, lips curved in an almost knowing smile, "You said I could ask anything. Lucanis was born into it, I know that much."

Lucanis nodded, still somehow silent as he walked across the fallen leaves, "I come from a long line of Crows, yes."

Davrin nodded back, "So, how'd you get involved Rook?"

She exhaled and flicked her hair back, standing as she slipped the little nug statue into her pack. It wasn't a nice story. Shitty beginning, shitty middle, hopefully a less shitty end.

Not that there weren't highlights in her life, stolen moments of joy and pride. Treats left on her windowsill by Viago after a job well done, letters from Teia when she was homesick, memories of drinking with Varric and Harding when they first started this impossible contract. Friends and contacts she'd made after becoming a fully fledged assassin.

It wasn't easy, it's not like she's hard to get along with but her mouth moves before her brain sometimes and that's when she speaks at all. For a period there, the only people she spoke to were Viago and another little fledgling.

She sighed, "Same as most others, I was born a slave. My, well, whoever owned me was killed. Crows found me, trained me and now I'm here."

Davrin looked...not shocked but surprised, "You were born a slave?" He moved, picking up the pace to follow her as she walked back towards the Veil Jumpers camp. Lucanis a few more feet behind, although she could hear the usual hiss of disapproval coming from Spite, the same hiss that seemed more involuntary than not at any mention of their somewhat shared childhood.

"Yep, I was young though, around 5 or 6? Viago wasn't sent to collect recruits but the way he tells it, I refused to leave his side."

"A thorn from day one is how he tells it." Lucanis remarked, a softer tilt to his lips as he glanced at her, "I do not believe he would have left you there even if advised, the man has always favoured you Rook."

Rook rolled her eyes, blush high on her cheeks. Viago was first and foremost her boss - not family. She was a de Riva, but not blood - not like the Dellamortes. Although, she wasn't blind to the questioning stares. Rook had grown up around enough people to understand the similarities they shared and how it made them look. Related. Siblings. Parent and child at times.

She didn't mean too but she sometimes more often than not fell into that roll, annoying younger sister - defiant daughter.

"Be that as it may, that's what happened. Nothing fancy, nothing wild or outlandish if that's what you were expecting." Rook grinned, smile sharp and a little brittle.

"Wasn't expecting anything - just wondering." Davrin grinned back at her, "You're a tough nut Rook."

[the-hopeless-haze]

I Do Bad Things With You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: smut. nsfw mdni

Summary: You don't feel like you're a good agent. Aaron assures you that you are. And then he fucks you. or inn other words, I think I need someone to study my brain because I did cry in my boss' office for very similar reasons to this and I am very much attracted to her but we did not fuck in her office and she has no idea I want her I just have breakdowns at work because 1) it sucks and 2) I am mentally unwell. I just truly don't know if this fic was birthed from the worst compulsory heterosexuality of all time or if I'm truly just an insane bisexual (I think it's the latter) but when I tell you I have not thought about Hotchner in years I MEAN years. I haven't watched Criminal Minds in like five years until today to write this fic. But like. He is FINE. y'all know. you're here. come for my unhinged summary stay for the smut idk

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter under your breath, hating how the tears fall anyway, how you can’t stop them. “I’m not doing a good enough job. I need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asks you. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s just… it’s just I feel like I can never get a grip. Like I can’t ever get everything done that needs to get done. Like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re good enough. You’re a good agent. You come in and you do your job,” he says gently. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

You were usually so put together, so stoic, even, so sure of yourself. He can’t quite believe you’re in his office like this, past the verge of tears, sitting across from him weeping.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“For the effort you put in. How you’re a new agent and you still proved yourself to my team. You’re living up to your potential and then some. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.”

“You just have to say that.”

“No. I don’t have to say anything. I’m telling you what I see and what I believe. And I’m not letting you quit.”

“But, sir, I—“

“I won’t accept it,” he says firmly but quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to lose. You know this. You know your grades were stellar and your psychology background is enviable. You know you passed every test with flying colors. The adjustment to being a full-fledged agent in the first year is tough, to say the least. It’s grueling. Getting accustomed and used to death, danger and just the pressure of the job is something that not everyone can handle. But you can. I know you can. If I lost you, I’d lose an asset. You’re an excellent profiler. It’s intuitive for you.”

There it is, though, that behavior analyst part of your brain and you noticed how he said “I” and not “we” and how his eyes softened, how he wasn’t looking at you sternly and stoically but there was more of a tenderness in his dark eyes.

He likes you. He means what he says. You know he does.

But that isn’t enough. You don’t believe what he says. You don’t believe you’re worthy. This job takes up so much of your waking hours but when you’re outside of it you have next to nothing. You’re not close to family here in Virginia. You don’t have a significant other. You’re not home enough to have a dog. And you just feel like you’ve been letting yourself go since you only seem to have time to eat, sleep and work.

You’ve always been an anxious person. You’ve managed to quell the thoughts wracking your brain with years of practice and medications to a point where you can function, to a point where you made it through school and made it into the FBI. Impostor syndrome dies hard, though. You keep trying to swallow down your tears but it’s fucking impossible when you’re like this. You dry them on the sleeves of your blazer, biting your lip nervously.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Aaron says, breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s not okay,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t be breaking down crying.”

“You’re human,” he says gently. “This job is overwhelming.”

“It doesn’t seem to get to you.”

“It does. It still does. I… I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I just don’t think I can do this, Hotchner. With all due respect, I need to put my two weeks in,” you say, strengthening your weakened resolve.

“No,” he refuses, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?”

You sigh, leaning forward and bracing your head in your hands. “I don’t know.”

You feel him before you see him, refusing to lift your head up as the tears started streaming down your face. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands gently from your cheeks, but your eyes are still squeezing shut. “Look at me,” he orders.

“Hotchner, I—“

“It’s Hotch. You know that. Or… you can call me Aaron. Just call me Aaron. Look at me.”

Finally, you blink your eyes open, tears spilling over, and he squeezes both your hands gingerly.

“Good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home for the night. You’re going to take your mind off of the job. And you’re going to come back tomorrow morning and everyone in here is going to talk about how much you’re missed when you’re gone. Because we all value you. But you need to take the time for yourself. You’re burnt out. You’re not a bad agent. You’re just mean to yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s not lost on you, the way he’s still touching you when you don’t think you’ve seen him so much as brush against anyone else on the team. Is he…?

You squeeze his hands back, forcing yourself to smile.

“There we go,” he smiles back. “See? Do you feel better?”

“A little. Thank you, Hotch.”

“Please. You can call me Aaron in private,” he reiterates. He would have, could have, should have let you go by now. But he hasn’t.

“In private?”

“I don’t let just anyone use my first name. There’d be questions if you started using it especially since you called me SSA Hotchner for months before I got you to just say Hotchner at least. You’re a rule stickler, hm? I think that’s part of your problem.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to think rules are made to be broken,” you counter. Sure. You were a stickler. You were. Deferential to authority - that deserved it. You spoke out, and you would speak out of turn if anything felt wrong or uncomfortable. Rules made things feel safer. Still. You’d call out the unjust. And you think Aaron is the same way.

“Some of them are,” he muses.

“You yelled at me,” you say suddenly. “My third week.”

He furrows his brow, trying to recall the incident you were talking about and then he nods. “You were reckless. You put yourself and Morgan in danger. You walked straight into an ambush. It was a mistake. A rookie mistake. A mistake you learned from. You never did it again.”

“But I—“

“It’s been almost a year since then,” he says, gently. “I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had to pull everyone who works here aside for something. And I’ve been pulled aside myself. No one’s perfect. I… I raised my voice because I was worried about you. Not because I was angry with you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Okay.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I see a strong, capable, intelligent young woman who’s an amazing profiler — you can glean someone’s familial background in record time. I see a woman who holds her ground and then some in interrogations.”

“I’m crying in my boss’ office right now,” you titter awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still all of those things. I see a beautiful woman who’s passionate about her career, who wants to do the best she can…”

He trails off. You wonder if he realizes the weight of what he said.

Always walking the line of professionalism. Making any comments regarding your appearance was crossing it, even if it was as benign and modest as “beautiful”. It was still a step too far.

But you, you’re depressed and anxious, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

He’s still kneeling in front of you.

You know it would be stupid, especially when he’s a broken man himself, even if he denies it to everybody. His wife cheated on him. It was hard, with the job, to have a stable relationship with anyone outside of it. You know this. You’re living it.

He’s still touching you and your skin is on fire now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he makes no effort to move, no effort to stop staring through your eyes to your soul. Is he profiling you? Trying to see if your breath hitched when he let the compliment slip?

“Don’t be,” you say breathily.

“It was inappropriate,” he says, and he does get up then, wincing at the stiffness in his knees from crouching in front of you for so long. You miss the warmth of his hands already. “You’re dismissed, agent. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Your emotions flip like a switch, it’s just how it’s always been, and you use it to your advantage in a room full of profilers. It’s good to be unpredictable, a wild card. You don’t even mean to. You just are. You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. He stood up, so he’s towering over you as you sit in the seat across from his desk, but he’s looking down at you, waiting on your next sentence. And what you say is, “Agent? I thought we were on first-name basis, Aaron?”

It’s the first time you’ve said his first name, and it goes right through him. He wasn’t lying. Not many people do have the privilege to use it. None of his subordinates would be brave enough, maybe not even if he gave them explicit permission like he gave to you. It’s intimate, all these walls up in this bureaucracy that even something as simple as a woman using his first name could drive him up the wall like it would an upstanding Christian man in Regency England. Rules. Rules to be broken.

Aaron whispers your first name, and it’s barely audible, but you hear it in his low, soft baritone. Not the first time, but the only time he’s said it without your last name tacked on the end of it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

You’re teasing, now, and he wonders if it’s just a reflex, trying to gain back some of the power you lost by coming in here crying, or if you genuinely want something from him besides reassurance and a couple of hours off from work. It was maddening at first, trying to figure you out. He still doesn’t know exactly who you are and he’s resigned himself to the fact that maybe he’d never be able to nail you down.

“Don’t,” Aaron says again, looking at you sternly as you stand up.

“What is it that you don’t want me to do, Aaron?” you ask, and you’re still not eye to eye but you’re closer now, and his eyes never left your face throughout the whole conversation anyway.

He says your name again like it’s a curse under his breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Use your words, Aaron.”

“Stop teasing me,” he murmurs, looking away from you for the first time, down at the floor. You never expected him to be so… shy.

“I’m teasing you?” you ask, feigning innocence. You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how he was getting tenser as you continue this conversation.

“Yes,” he says, looking back up at you, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before. “And I suggest you stop.”

“Or else?” you say before your brain can catch up. You’re playing with fire. You know you are.

But you like him. Tall, dark, handsome, nothing like the men you’ve been with before. Other men were intimidated when he walked into the room. And you being you… you always wanted to break him down into a crying, blubbering mess, and be the only one who got to see him like that. Break the stoic wall and get to see him. Human.

And if he was this reactive to you just saying his name?

Lord help both of you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Go home for the day.”

“Is that to help me, or you?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Perhaps both of us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to get my resignation if I make things so… hard… for you, Aaron,” you say, and you move a little closer, his breath hitching audibly in his throat.

Again. He says your name like it’s the worst curse in the book, hissing it like it physically hurts him, and you know, maybe you are.

“A little selfish, maybe. I’d miss you too much,” he admits. “And I meant what I said. I’d lose an asset. You’re a stellar agent.”

You don’t really know what to say, now, but he continues.

“Profile me,” he whispers. “In this moment. What am I thinking?”

“So you don’t have to say it out loud?”

“Mm.”

“You want me, Aaron,” you say shakily, losing your resolve almost as quickly as you gained it back. “I don’t think you’d have to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks.

“Right now… yes.”

“You need me. You need me to show you how valued you really are,” Aaron says, searching your eyes for confirmation that you want this, too. As always, though, you’re unreadable. “Say it. Let me show you my appreciation.”

God. What in the world? Your brain is fuzzy with lust, and never in a million years would you have thought this is how today would’ve gone. Mondays back in the office are always the worst, piles of paperwork from the cases prior to sift through and file and the anticipation of when you’d be on the road or up in the air next always gnawed at your stomach. You fully expected to give your notice and come home crying. You didn’t foresee the prospect of being utterly fucked by your boss who very much did not want you to resign.

You know why the rules are in place. Dating coworkers was messy anyway, never mind dating someone in this line of work. Still… you thought it made sense in a way. The only person who was really going to understand your crazy schedule was someone who was working the same hours.

So you nod, giving him full permission to do as he pleases.

His lips meet yours, surprisingly soft and gentle, akin to the way his hands squeezed yours before. “I can’t believe I held myself back from doing this for this long,” he mumbles against your mouth, then he pulls you in an embrace, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck where he can reach. “I need you here. I need you to promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay, Aaron.”

“I’ve wanted your body since the second you walked into this building. I need you. You ground me. Make me feel better, human. Like maybe I could exist outside of the field and outside of this office.”

“Did you know I was struggling?”

“You hide it well. I knew you were frustrated, but the last case was tough and we all are a little on edge. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you to lean on, honey,” Aaron says, moving his head back to face you, eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I want you to always come to me if you need anything. Anything.”

You don’t say anything, just hum contently, pressing your mouth back to his for a kiss that starts off chaste and quickly becomes heated, his hands cupping the curve of your ass.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. “Promise me you’ll always come to me.”

“I promise,” you agree.

“Good girl,” he affirms. “You’re such a good girl. Never have to worry about you doing your job. You always get your reports to me on time, you always make brilliant deductions when we’re going over cases, you always make sure the rest of the team doesn’t need anything… such a good girl.”

You kiss him fiercely, the voice in your head screaming he was your boss and both of your careers are on the line if this goes south long silenced. His large hands on your ass pull you closer to him, and you feel his hardening cock against you as he does. “Aaron,” you choke out breathily.

“Feel me? That’s what you do to me, honey.”

You snake a hand between your bodies and palm him through his dress pants, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that to be your next move from the way his cheeks flush and he groans heavily. “This is about you,” he manages to say, taking your hand away from his clothed cock. “All about you. Go sit on my desk, honey.”

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together as he follows you and takes his suit jacket off, revealing his tasteful button-down underneath. “Good girl,” he whispers, spreading your legs with hands, kneading the flesh of your thighs as he does so, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up.

And then he digs his nails under the thin sheer of your tights and rips them. “Aaron!” you hiss in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he responds almost dismissively, easing the torn fabric down the length of your legs, kissing the swell of your calves as he takes your heels off and places them on the floor underneath the desk.

“I’m more worried about how I’m going to walk out of here,” you say, smiling.

“I sent them all out on different tasks and told them to get lunch first. They’ll be gone for a while.”

“Did you plan this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “But now you can be as loud as you need to be.”

“Aaron,” you say, almost scolding, but whatever you were going to say after that is lost in the recesses of your mind as you feel his mouth on yours again, hot and ready, tongue gliding against yours with ease. He shrugs your blazer off, too, leaving you in just a black tank top and your skirt that was hiked up to your waist.

“I believe regulations are to wear long sleeve button-downs underneath blazers,” he says lowly. You know it’s a lie. If Garcia can dress the way she does there are certainly not strict restrictions on what you can wear, even if you’re a field agent. But you’ll play along.

“I believe regulations are not to have your subordinate spread out on your desk in front of you, sir,” you retort.

Aaron chuckles deeply at that. This is how you usually were, sarcastic and snippy, even with him at times. Funny. “Rules and regulations,” he muses. “I think I’m alright with those two being broken.”

And with that his fingers of his right hand start ghosting your cunt, pressing the thin cotton of your panties, groaning lowly at how wet you are. “You’re soaked, honey,” he says. “Can I feel you? Please.”

“Yes, Aaron, please touch me,” you nod.

He pushes aside your panties, slipping his index finger in slowly, catching your lips with his in the process.

“Want to make you feel so good, so much better,” he murmurs, starting slow and building up pressure before he inserts another finger, stretching you out, making you impossibly wetter, reaching depths of you that you couldn’t reach yourself with your much shorter and thinner fingers. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and in one swift motion, he slips your panties off, pocketing them in his dress pants. “Good girl.”

“Not fair, Aaron,” you say.

“What’s not fair, honey?”

“You’re still fully dressed,” you point out, reaching for his tie to loosen it. You were absolutely soaked, you could feel it, and you wonder if his desk will stain from your slick. You untuck his shirt from his pants and run your hands over his stomach, scars under the pads of your fingers, God, you want to lick every inch of him.

“Mm. I can help you remedy that,” he agrees, meeting your hands when you were halfway through the buttons on his pristine white shirt, pulling it over his head along with his undershirt. You reach for his belt buckle and he stops you. “Not yet. Let me do something first.”

And before you know it his tongue is on you, swirling incessant circles around your swollen clit, and you can tell he’s not taking his time now. He wants to bring you over the edge and fast, and you wonder how long it will be before the rest of the team do return from their extended lunch breaks. You’ve been eaten out before, sure, but to use a cliched metaphor for the umpteenth time in human history, you finally figured out what women meant when they said their man ate them like it was their last meal on death row. You clamp your legs against his head, and he moans, sending vibrations through your cunt, damn near sending you over the edge as you pant and whimper.

“Am I not making you feel good?” Aaron looks up in worry.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re not screaming. I suppose I should try harder,” he says, furrowing his brow and then he adds his fingers back, fucking deep into you. His tongue focuses on your clit and your thighs are shaking and you gasp, no longer able to hold yourself up seated, leaning back and bracing yourself on your elbows.

“Aaron, I’m so close,” you moan, trying to fight the urge to push him away as the pressure builds. You squeeze your thighs tighter and the sudden force of it drags Aaron’s tongue flat against your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge, whining his name over and over again.

He doesn’t stop.

“Aaron,” you choke out, trying to back away from him due to the overstimulation. “Aaron. Please.”

“You can be louder than that,” he says, not bothering to lift his head, voice muffled by your wet cunt. “I’m not stopping until you reach a decibel level I’m satisfied with. And I will know if you’re faking.”

You’ve never had anyone go down on you for multiple rounds. You were lucky if you came once with previous partners. Part of the reason you never wanted to make a move with Aaron was that you figured he would ruin you for other men.

And God. Were you right.

You only hope you’re ruining him for other women.

You know you’re next orgasm will be embarrassingly close as he never gave you a chance to come down from the first one. You didn’t expect it to come on like it did though, your right hand carded in his jet black hair, just again, him flattening his tongue against your clit as his fingers continued to scissor you open and you can’t help it, gasping for air, shouting, yelling, keening his name. “Aaron,” you plead. “I can’t give you another one. Please.”

“Shh. Good girl. You can and you will. For me,” he commands authoritatively.

And you can. And you do.

The next time, mercifully, Aaron stands up, and leaves you alone to breathe. He kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s achingly hard now, a quite visible tent noticeable in his dress pants, cheeks red from exertion, everything from his nose to his chin wet with your slick.

What a vision.

How were you ever going to get this out of your head?

“Can I be inside you? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you affirm.

Aaron lets you unbuckle his pants and lets them pool to the floor, helping you out of your tank top and bra, sucking and biting on your nipples and the flesh of your breasts for a few moments before he steps out of his shoes and boxers, completely bare in front of you.

“God, Aaron,” you breathe. “You’ve really been holding out on me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and his cheeks flush redder. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” he says lowly, lining his cock with your entrance. “Since the second you walked in this building.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask, but it’s a loaded question if not a stupid one. There’s a myriad of reasons why you don’t tell someone who works under you that you want to fuck them stupid. That you like them. That you love them?

You frown slightly. You don’t think you could handle it if this was the only time you got to be with him like this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You promised you would tell me.”

“Is this… is this a one-time thing, Aaron?” You ask tentatively.

“I don’t want it to be,” he answers quickly. “It’d be a daily occurrence if I had my way.”

With that, he grabs your hips, and looks at you for consent, then slams all the way in when you nod in affirmation. Neither of you can help the moans and groans escaping your mouths at that, you from feeling completely full and him being fully sheathed in you.

“I… I love you,” he says, pressing his sweat-sheened forehead to yours. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how dangerous and inappropriate and difficult this situation is never mind adding emotions to it. And I… I’m not good at them in the first place. I just… I just need you to know that. I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Again, Aaron, why did you never… fuck,” you trail off as he starts moving his hips, setting a slow and languid pace.

“I don’t know. I was afraid,” he chuckles.

“Of me?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. To tell you I wanted you…”

“You’re calling me intimidating?” you ask. “You? Of all people?”

“I’ve seen you interrogate. Baby-faced assassin, hm? You’ve shaken some grown men in their boots.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he chuckles, then softens. “Seeing you cry like that today… I… it broke my heart, honey. I never thought I’d see you break. I’d do anything to make you never feel like that again. You need to stay.”

“I already promised you, Aaron,” you say, biting your lip as he somehow angles his cock deeper in you. “I love you.”

Kissing you fiercely, he squeezes your hips, and you can’t wait to see if there’ll be bruises there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. “God, you’re fucking squeezing my cock, honey,” he grunts, and you feel yourself clench more at his words. You’ve never heard him swear. Ever. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long, old man,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised how much stamina I do have,” he threatens, rolling his eyes at you. “You’ll see tonight when I have more time with you.”

“How presumptuous.”

He scoffs, doesn’t say anything, but starts running over your clit with his thumb, kissing you deeply, fucking you faster and harder, setting a much more brutal pace.

“You just need me that bad, Aaron?” you ask, hellbent on seeing him break. “You need to fuck me all the time now that you’ve had me?”

“Yes,” he pants. “Need you all the time. Every day. Need to fuck this pretty cunt. Make you know you’re appreciated. Valued. Loved. Never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. Not…I’ll worship you. Kiss the ground you walk on. Fuck you until you can’t stand. Whatever it takes.”

“What about you, Aaron? How do you feel right now?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. “So fucking good. Such a good girl. You keep sucking my cock back in every thrust, you feel that, honey? So wet, so warm, fuck, I’d stay inside you forever.”

“Yeah, Aaron? Hmm? I—“ your teasing backfired on you, and before you can think of anything else to say, you come on his cock, your nails dragging down his back stalling his motions to stutters and he’s asking you, begging you, “Please let me cum inside you,” he begs. “Please, honey.”

You nod breathlessly, unable to speak, and you don’t think he’d be able to make it out of you in time completely if you’d said no because you feel his seed fill you as you’re still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm and he’s moaning your name in choked sobs and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking seen or heard.

“I love you,” he whispers, dark eyes looking up at you from where his face now rested in the swell of your breasts. “I love you. And we’re going to make this work come hell or high water.”

“I love you,” you say back once you catch your breath. “Are you still sending me home?”

He laughs. “You look and smell like sex.”

“Do you think you look or smell any different? You did this to me,” you say, messing up his sweat-streaked hair more with your fingers. “I think your boss should send you home, too.”

“Hm. Perhaps I could convince him,” he says, giving you a wide smile.

He helps you get dressed, kissing you wherever he can reach in between and it takes much longer than it would have had you dressed yourself. You’re not complaining. But there’s no fixing your hair or your tattered tights. No fixing Aaron’s disheveled hair, either, or the sweat stains around his armpits from when you teased him for so long.

“Follow me home, honey,” he instructs. “Round two.”

Maybe you should have mental breakdowns at work more often.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"Liquid Courage"

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: Ghoap kinda being assholes

They thought it would be easy. Maybe you would go away in just a couple weeks, either done with your task, or hell- maybe you weren't that good and they'd get a replacement. Seems Ghost and Soap weren't so lucky. You were good at your job, damn good. You got the information they needed barely in a couple days. Laswell and the captain agreed to sign you onto the next mission, then the next.. now they were even considering making you a full fledged member of the task force.

Not only were you good at your designated tasks. But fuck. You were already acclimating well on the base, on the team. Already knowing Laswell, you came in with a good respect for eachother. You and Gaz bonded fairly quickly, apparently you briefly lived in his hometown around highschool. Not that you knew eachother deeply, just passed eachother in the halls. And Price, damn those paternal instincts, had done well taking you under his wing. Making sure things were accessible for you, making sure you didn't question your role here. You were soft spoken, he'd be damned if he let anyone on base walk over you.

You got along with everyone. Everyone except them. You definitely strayed away from the couple, slipping out of the room when they came in. If you couldn't leave you'd at least quiet down. You could meet Johnny's eyes if he asked something directly, with some brief glances away. But Simon definitely intimidated you the most, you didn't even look him in the eyes. But you were civil, speaking when spoken to, still handing them their designated information for missions. Wishing them luck just as you do the captain and Gaz. You were simply distant, as far as you knew, it was for your own good.

They couldn't deny their part in it. Simon directly threatened your life, Johnny did too- just having the slightest bit of subtlety about it. At first, with your growing kinship with the team, they were sure you were going to give them away. Not to mention, you saw Simons face. God did it make his spine itch, those he trusted saw him unmasked, he certainly didn't trust you. Simon is ashamed to say he tampered lightly with your computer in the first week, with little hope that you'd fuck up and be transferred. He knows it's low. He knows it's a bastard move. But you were a threat, a threat of losing Johnny. This little stunt didn't work, you completed your task without a hitch. Not even mentioning the clear tampering, you never reported it.

It was the second week that they stopped any sabotage towards you. The fact that you surprised them was an understatement. They made a mistake, one of the recruits saw them wander out of a room in the barracks together- looking.. out of breath to put it lightly. They were sure this was it, caught red handed, they'd be pressed on the subject and eventually the truth would come out. But you, just as Price questioned them, lifted your head and piped up.

"They were just helping me-"

Both Gaz and the captain blinked at you. You barely spoke to the pair, so you asking them for help was news to them.

"You? .. With what?"

Price questions with a raised brow, hand rising to paw at his own beard lazily. You shrugged.

"..I uh.. Had to move some furniture in my room in the barracks.. I can't push the dresser by myself sir."

All that day guilt swarmed in the two men's stomachs. Maybe they were being too harsh. So far you kept your promise, more than that really. Johnny's lips pursed once it was just him and Simon in his room.

"We cannae keep doin' this. Felt bad 'bout it before, now it's damn right cruel."

He mutters, dragging his nails over his scalp through the thick fur of his mowhawk.

Simon stayed silent but nodded in agreement, leaning up against the wall.

"Can't get rid of her now."

He mumbles in confirmation. Johnny scritches at his stubble slightly, which earned a light push on the wrist from Simon- Johnny had a habit of nervous ticks. Whether bouncing his knee or lightly scratching, either way the Lieutenant was trying to break him of it.

"Maybe we shouldn' have tried t' all."

Johnny grumbles. Regret weighing on him. They jumped to conclusions. Now feeling like a right arse. They quite literally were picking on a disabled woman in the workplace, looking like fucking idiots while doing so too. Especially considering that woman just helped them stay out of prying eyes.

Tonight the group was going out to celebrate, it took you some convincing from Gaz to come along with them. Teasing that you had to come since the mission wouldn't have gone well without you. Now you didn't believe him in the slightest, but praise had always been your weakness. So here you were, trailing beside them as they entered the old building. Price walking behind you, despite you saying you didn't need his help pushing the chair, he liked to remain close just in case you changed your mind.

The bar was nice, Gaz had told you it was the groups favorite. Cheap liquor, good music, and fairly empty most of the time besides regulars. You didn't mind the place either, the warm lighting soothed your nerves. Sinking a little into your seat comfortably. Heading over to the table with the rest of the guys. Gaz slides away a bar stool, letting you pull up your chair in the spot instead.

"Thanks Kyle."

You smile warmly, crossing your arms and leaning your elbows on the tabletop. The group moves to sit down. Gaz on your left, Ghost and Soap across from you, Price at the head of the table. Purposely sitting in the back so the bartender couldn't catch him lighting up a cigar as they waited on their usual drinks.

"Damn lucky this time boys."

The captain mumbles. Soap gives a cheeky grin and bumps shoulders with his Lieutenant beside him.

"Y'know I'd prefer ta call it skill Captain."

While idly chatting about the mission, drinks were slid onto the table by the bartender. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh into your hand as Price was being scolded for the smoke in his hand. Gaz however openly chuckles. Ghost huffs in amusement under his balaclava. Soap grinning ear to ear.

"No captain here Price, that lass is tellin' you off like hir own bairn-"

"Shut it.."

The older man groaned, tossing his hat on the table.

Sipping on the bourbon in your glass you watch with a quiet smile as the four bicker playfully between eachother. You sunk willingly into their background, not minding it at all. Honestly, you found comfort in it. So when Gaz proposed a game of pool over to the middle of the bar, you politely decline, deciding to nurse your drink at the table. However you swallow thickly as all four leave. Except one.

Simon stays seated across from you, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Looking down at the liquid in the glass, tracing your fingertips along the rim. You wanted to say something. Anything. Frustrated wasn't quite the word you felt with this man. Well, both of them. You open your mouth, glancing up you find the masked brute is staring right back at you. Closing your lips, jaw clenching. You notice him take a breath, before lifting his glass- slipping out his words right before taking a drink.

"You're awfully quiet."

The words come out of him, as if he isn't one of the reasons. You blink at him, brows furrowing. At first you wonder if he's fucking with you, being sarcastic. But it doesn't matter for your answer. You look down at your cup again, picking it up.

"Not really. We just don't talk much.."

You mumble in return. He's still watching you. You can't help but glance towards the other three, well mostly the two you feel comfortable with. But you find that Price is focused on the game and Gaz is most definitely busy teasing him for it.

There's another long moment of silence. You're glaring at the wood of the table. You both want to speak now, but the words are difficult to find. Hiding instead in frequent glances of distrust. You throw back the glass and down your drink, letting the liquid burn down your throat. Looking Simon straight in the eyes you say sternly.

"I know you have an issue with me. The both of you."

It's Simons turn to blink at you. He's not going to deny it. He's showed it rather clearly in his opinion. But. He does feel the urge to explain. It wasn't personal. He wants to say. He just can't lose Johnny. You were a risk. You were a risk he just wasn't willing to take.

"I don't care."

These are the words that catch him off guard. You stare at him in defiance. You're gripping your glass tightly with both hands.

"You don't have to like me. You can hate me if you want too. But I'm not going anywhere."

You say sharply. Simon hasn't heard you speak like this before. Usually you can be rather meek.

He shifts, opening his mouth to speak.

"We-"

"I know you were on my computer too."

Simon swallows his words instantly. His eyes were cold, he's gripping his glass just as hard as you are. Taking a long drink. You continue, he doesn't interrupt.

"I care about this team. I care about Price. I care about Gaz."

He expects that to be the end of it, but by the look of determination and the flush on your face, he's wrong.

"And whether you like it or not. I care about whether you and Soap get back from each mission too."

You take a deep long breath, your shoulders sinking slightly. You just wanted it off your chest, your eyes soften and you glance away again.

"You can be as terrifying as you want. You're not going to take this job away from me."

You say. Looking up at him slowly.

"So if you excuse me- .. I'm going to go lose horribly at pool."

You say with an unreasonable amount of confidence. Pushing back from the table to roll towards the group of three. Leaving Simon at the table with your outburst and a half full drink.

He can't help but stare holes into the back of your head. Downing his drink in one gulp. He underestimated you.

{ugh! Feels good to be writing again! Apologies this series will have chapters around this length, not too much longer than 2k at the most. This is kinda a mini fic for now. However! ♥️ Will be taking requests! And if anyone wants on the tag list for this, lemme know!}

[coallise]

New daughter

Young Vaggie kills her first sinner and Carmilla takes pity and promises she will never have to kill another. @korrasamiswan

I had another idea on how this goes but I wanted to get a quick one out for your request. I don't know if I'll try to make this a fully fledged story but if anyone gets inspired tag me.

Carmilla ducked behind a pillar. She heard the wing beats of the exorcists. Two of them landed, one wearing the normal uniform, tall and proud throwing a sinner down at her feet. The other was tiny, it reminded Carmilla of her daughters when they were younger. She didn’t have a mask so her short gray hair and gold eyes were on display. The little girl clutched her spear tightly to her chest.

“Go on, Vagina, kill him,” The older one ordered.

“But-” Vagina quivered.

“Kill him or else,” the older one threatened. Carmilla gripped the pillar tighter. Vagina sniffled and stabbed the sinner. Tears pouring out of her eyes causing her to chock.

“Done,” Vagina rubbed her wet eyes. The older exorcist smacked her to the ground.

“Crying over the damned? Pathetic. I expect you to kill ten more by the end of the night. Bring proof or I won’t let you return to heaven,” The older exorcist flew off and Vagina hiccuped and reached for her spear.

“I’ll be taking that,” Carmilla grabbed the spear and then picked up Vagina, “and you two. How about I bring you home? I have candy.”

“I would like some candy, but not for too long. I got to do my job,” Vagina sniffled as she rested against Carmilla.

Carmilla snorted. They ducked and dodged threw the buildings until they reached the safe house. Her daughters still sleeping peacefully as Carmilla made the young exorcist some food and gave her candy.

“Thank you, miss, but I got to go now,” Vagina smiled and went to get off the table but Carmilla grabbed her again.

“Hmm, no,” Carmilla bounced her as she brought Vagina to the bathroom where she started a bath. A nightgown already sat on the counter, “I think I’ll keep you. After all, you don’t want to kill right?”

“No, but I have to,” Vagina frowned as Carmilla undressed and started to bathe her. Getting every speck of blood and grime off the child.

“If I remember correctly, the other one said that if you don’t kill ten more, then you stay in hell. I quite like that idea, you staying in hell with me and my family,” Carmilla scooped up some bubbles and blew them in Vagina’s face.

Vagina stuck out her hand, “Adam told me how demons work, you like deals. If I stay with you, do you promise to take care of me?”

Carmilla smiled and took her hand, “like one of my own daughters.”

The deal was sealed and it was as if a weight was lifted off of Vagina as her gold eyes turned white on red to match Carmilla’s.

“I will tell you right now, I’m renaming you. How about Vaggie?”

“Vaggie works, love you mama,” Vaggie yawned and Carmilla finished the bath. Drying her off and putting her in bed with her other two daughters that subconsciously wrapped themselves around her.

////////////

Lute paced in front of the portal. It was time to go and there was no sign of Vagina anywhere.

“We are so fucked,” Adam huffed, “we have to go.”

Lute nodded and went into the portal. For his credit, Adam tried to hide it. But when Peter came to babysit he noticed one less child and told Sera, who checked the orb to find the kid in hell playing boardgames with her new family.

“I told you a million times that you can not bring the children to hell! They have to be at least sixteen!” Sera growled.

“We can just go there and get her back, no big deal,” Adam tried.

“No we can’t, she made a deal with her new ‘mama’, we can’t break it. I tried calling Lucifer and he laughed saying he would never even think of trying to take one of her children,” Sera said.

“Well, nothing more we can do, huh?” Adam shrugged.

“You are on sewer duty for the next five years.”

also @tanema123, thanks for helping

[buddiebeginz]

I was talking to a friend earlier and it got me thinking about something.

B*mmy stans project all of the stuff they do onto us to an extent I've never seen with any other fandom discourse before.

They call us homophobic for not liking B/T or T*mmy. Yet they hate on people for shipping Buddie or seeing Eddie as queer. To the point of harassing people for including Eddie and Buddie in pride posts. Continually harassing the 911news account and even trying to dox a journalist for posting about Buddie.

They call us delusional for having watched two men love and support one another for 6 going on 7 years and for thinking there could be something more than friendship there. Even though Oliver, Ryan, and Tim have all said they see what we see. Yet they've seen Buck kiss a guy twice, have very minimal screen time or development and they headcanon that they're in love and will get married in the coming season.

They say we fetishize Buddie. Yet most of the time when our fandom is discussing our ship we're talking about the emotional connection between them. Or how we want to see them finally be together in a canon romantic relationship or as a full fledged family (with Chris). Or have their first kiss. Meanwhile most of their posts are the kind of sex they headcanon Buck and T*mmy have. Hell after that that dinner scene tons of them changed their urls to something with daddy in it (referencing the out of place daddy kink joke). To be clear there's nothing wrong with headcanons about fictional characters sex lives. But the main reason most of us ship Buddie is not just because they're two hot guys who we want to think about f*cking, it's because we're invested in the story of their life together. The same can't be said for B/T.

They say we feminize Buck for Buddie:

Meanwhile most of their fics/art/headcanons involve T*mmy being the big strong protector rescuing the "damsel in distress" Buck. They constantly talk about how hot it is that T*mmy is this big older "daddy" firefighter who can take care of Buck and guide him in what it means to be in a m|m relationship.

They say we've made Buck's coming out all about Buddie but 1. Eddie and Buck's feelings for him were heavily included in Buck's bi awakening ep. 2. They have made T*mmy synonymous with buck's coming out to the point of saying Buck wouldn't have even realized he liked men without T*mmy. They've even said that if T*mmy and Buck were to break up in s8 that it would ruin Buck's coming out story.

They accuse our fandom of being mean and of harassing the actors including of sending death threats to Lou. Of chasing Lou off of social media and being the one who caused him to stop his cameos. They say we're the reason Oliver chooses not interact with Lou or anything B/T related online. When there has been no proof of any of this. Meanwhile there is proof from their own fandom that Oliver and Ryan have blocked some of them. They have repeatedly tried to pressure Oliver to interact with B/T posts and Lou. They were also leaving comments on the the video of the podcast Ryan did (with Tommy DiDario) where he talked about his s*icide attempt, telling him he should have finished the job.

They call us a cult or BoBs (Buddie or Bust) yet they dress up like Lou and would still be paying for his videos if he was still willing to put them out. They prioritize Lou/T*mmy above any other character on the show. They talk about how T*mmy should get a begins episode. How T*mmy should be a main character. They defend everything T*mmy has ever done including when he was racist and homophobic to Chim and Hen. They harass anyone who has a negative word to say about their ship or Lou or T*mmy much like a cult would protect their leader. They to this day act like everything Lou ever told them in his cameos is the gospel truth.

911 fandom has grown increasingly toxic ever since B/T became a thing and I honestly just can't wait for the day we either find out T*mmy isn't coming back or when his last ep will be. I mean in some ways our fandom won't ever be the same after this. I've seen a lot of ugly sides to people who I had followed for years as Buddie shippers.

It will never not confuse the hell out of me that some people who were big time Buddie shippers for years not only dropped Buddie but turned completely against the ship and our fandom. And all for a ship that is seriously underdeveloped and one that it's clear the show is telling us in flashing neon lights isn't meant to last.