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unini · 17 hours ago

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A Life With Him

Domestic Alphabet with Hal Jordan.

Template from the thoughtful and creative @occasional-imagines-writer

A(nniversary) - How do they celebrate anniversaries with their partner?

Hal isn’t the best with dates, mostly in fault of his Lantern activities leaving him displaced after missions, but he’s not oblivious. He knows the importance of milestones, especially when it comes to you, so whether it’s through setting reminders on his ring or having someone like Kilowog or Barry hammering it in his head, he refuses to forget and hurt you, like he’s done with others. Even if he’s battered and bruised, he’s going to face you with a bouquet and dinner invite. Sneaks you onto the airfield afterwards for a midnight flight without the ring, as is tradition.

B(athroom) - Is their shared bathroom messy or organized? Do they enjoy showering/bathing with their partner?

While he may let water drip onto the floor and leave his clothes on the hook rather than putting it in the laundry hamper, he’s not a slob. His mother was the only woman in the house, so she was strict on making sure her sons knew to clean up after themselves and not leave the toilet seat up, lest they wanted to face her wrath. He’s also mostly lived as a bachelor, so he has the sense to at least try to keep things tidy, but definitely has grown reliant on the ring for cleaning.

C(elebration) - What holidays do they and their partner celebrate? What are birthdays like? Do they like hosting parties and meals?

He’s grown used to having missed some holidays over the years due to his duties, but for his nieces and nephews, he always tries his best to be present for Christmas and Hanukkah (Jewish mother and Catholic Father), and, of course, an invite is always extended to you. He’s definitely forgotten his own birthday before, but he doesn’t mind it being celebrated. The older he gets, the more dread he may feel with each year, but he appreciates his friends and family for caring enough to plan something. Definitely expect some visits from his loved ones, like Barry, Oliver, and even Kilowog. Other Lanterns contact him through the rings with well wishes. He likes spending the rest of the day with you at home, though.

For your birthday, he tries to get up early to make you breakfast in bed and sets up a trip, probably on a planet he’s visited in the past, to make it an unforgettable memory. Definitely has to ask around what to gift you, getting a variety of suggestions, some more outlandish than the others.

Doesn’t mind hosting a casual get together at home if he wants to watch baseball or football with his pals, but struggles with having to host something more formal. By the time everyone is gone, he’s slumped against you, trying to convince you to leave the cleanup for tomorrow.

D(inner) - Do they eat dinner with their partner every night? Do they do most of the cooking, or at least help with it? Do they like to talk about their day or enjoy a comfortable silence?

If he’s an active Lantern, then no, but he tries his best. If he’s just regular old pilot Hal Jordan, then definitely!

He can cook! Feels more motivation to do so when it’s for another person. Probably keeps it simple, with a main dish that’s a protein (fish, steak, etc) with a side. Pulls out all the stops for Hanukkah. Who cooks more depends on both of your schedules.

Definitely likes to talk, sharing stories or anecdotes. Likes to eat in front of the TV.

E(ntrance) - How do they greet their partner when they arrive home?

If he’s in a humorous mood, he enters with a cheesy “Honey, I’m home!”, smacking his lips against your cheek noisily.

Usually, he comes from the balcony, declaring he’s not a burglar but your beloved partner and asks that you don’t come out swinging. Again.

F(amily) - Do they want to start a family with their partner? Any pets or children? How do they get along with their partner's relatives?

You can’t do a job forever, and especially not one as demanding as being a Green Lantern. It’s a known fact you either live long enough to eventually retire (whether from your age catching up with you or losing the will to continue) or you don’t. And Hal tries hard as hell to not have the latter as his fate. He’s thought of settling down more than once, that even if flying is what he always wants to do, being with you as become a stronger desire. He wants to grow old with you, and not leave you in a state similar to his mother’s after his father passed.

But even if he did marry you as an active Lantern, he would always make sure to come home with you, and depending on the circumstances, the both of you will be up in the stars for a while before planting your feet on the ground again.

Hal loves kids, that much is clear from how he treats his nephews and nieces, honorary ones included, so if his partner wanted kids or had kids, he’d be happy to included child rearing into his life. He will be a bit hesitant on starting a family unless you two are sure you can provide a child with a stable life, physically and emotionally. Can see him having kids before his twenties or after, no in between. Ends up with just one kid, maybe a second, accidentally.

While Hal likes animals, he’s aware that he’s not home enough to care for one. If both of you are settled in one place, he’ll deflect when you bring up getting a pet because he might see it as more trouble than it’s worth. But if you bring home a floppy eared dog with sad, glossy eyes, he’ll act like he still doesn’t want a pet and give the dog a stink eye, but quickly gains a soft spot for the dog and is always found lounging around with your newest addition.

G(roceries) - Do they like to go shopping with their partner? Are they trying to sneak treats into the cart when no one is looking?

While he was living alone, he probably didn’t shop as often as he should have, so he has to get into the habit of stopping by the store after working, texting you to see what you need. Still acts surprised when he opens the fridge to see it filled with actual food, rather than beer and condiments.

He finds grocery shopping to be more enjoyable with you, pushing the cart and sometimes lightly bumping you to catch your attention. Gets bored enough to observer workers and other customers, and act out their inner monologue.

Yes, he adds a ridiculous amount of chips and packaged sweets to the cart, usually in case of any visitors wanting to sleepover with ‘uncle Hal’.

H(ouse) - How quick do they ask to live together? Where do they and their partner move in together? Do they get a new place entirely, or does one just start living with the other?

Slow, especially considering there have been periods where his place of residence was Jim’s couch, but also because he might find that step to be intimidating. Probably gets some sense smacked into him by his friends or even Sue Jordan telling him to not keep you waiting. Jane probably calls him out too for not properly committing. If you’re also a Lantern, the next best thing is just sticking together when you can, creating designated meet up spots in the sector to spend some time together. If Oa isn’t in ruins, you probably share a room there. Mogo is also a victim to your rendezvous.

Definitely ends with you two buying a new house or apartment in Coast City when the time comes.

I(ndoors) - What's their favorite way to spend a lazy/rainy day in with their partner?

Sleeping in is a must, so be prepared to miss breakfast when he wraps an arm around you to bury his face in your neck, soft snores escaping him as he halfway covers you. Even pretends to be asleep when you try to wake him up and escape his grasp.

Is more than content to spend the day in the living room for once, the TV idly playing in the background as he digs out the old model airplane kit Barry gifted him once, finally able to focus on it.

J(obs) - Do they work with their partner? If not, do they ever visit their place of work?

Considering most of his relations have been with fellow heroes, a fellow pilot, and his actual coworkers/superiors, then it would be pretty likely he meets you through work. Probably a fellow Lantern, where you have the opportunity to be stationed together.

If you’re in a different corps, he’ll track you down and probably try to save the day, while shooting you a grin as he slams a construct into an enemy as you watch with exasperation.

Could also see him popping into your actual place of work with lunch or flowers, hair styled just so, calling out to you in front of your coworkers. Casually asks if any of your coworkers think he’s cute, after.

K(eepsake) - Have they decorated with/displayed any mementos from their relationship?

Has a picture of you taped to his locker at Ferris and has you as his wallpaper (chooses a goofy photo, much to your irritation), becomes a bit smug when someone notices, more than willing to brag about you.

I can also see him wearing your hair tie on his wrist. And, a bit off topic, he’s secure enough to hold your purse in public with a certain confidence.

L(aundry) - Do they help with their partner's laundry, or do they only focus on their own clothes? Do they share a closet or dresser with their partner?

He’s definitely messed up some of your laundry before by not checking the fabric tags, so you end up preferring to do the laundry yourself and make him fold it.

You end up splitting the closet, and you’re surprised to see sweaters and shirts he never seems to wear, pushed to the back. He’s the type to grab whatever’s near and throw it on, which ends up with him going through the same outfits a lot of the time.

M(ornings) - What's it like waking up with them? Are they a morning person, or does their partner have to drag them out of bed?

When sunlight starts to peak into your room, he buries his face into a pillow or your hair with a groan, lets out an even louder groan when he eventually gets up and stretches. When you tease him about his back, he throws a pillow at you.

Unless you actively hate mornings, he usually wakes up after you, and starts looking for you if you’re not in bed. Ends up hopping in the shower with you and says he’s saving money. Will pester you until you wash his hair.

There are some mornings where he’ll wake up at the crack of dawn and drag you onto to the roof to watch the sunrise in peaceful silence, whether it’s because of a whim or something else, you never ask.

N(ights) - What's their nightly routine with their partner? Do they go to bed earlier, later, or at the same time? How do they sneak into bed when they've come home late?

Doesn’t immediately go to sleep once he’s settled in bed, making conversation with you about one thing or the other until you’re half asleep. Probably convinces you to watch some TV with him before bed.

The type to read a chapter or two to bed, usually a novel you or someone else like Barry or John would recommend, sometimes staying up later into the night if it’s particularly engaging. You eventually tell him to turn off his ring’s light and go to bed by the time it’s 2am.

When he comes home late, which can be often, he’s able to tuck himself against you without disturbing your sleep, used to keeping his footsteps quiet from years of experience sneaking out when he was younger.

Without a doubt, he’s a nightowl that regrets it the very next morning.

O(rbit) - Are they constantly at their partner's side, or do they keep to themself more?

If he’s still an active lantern, he’s glued to your side during his breaks, near moulding into your skin with his causal clinginess, although he does actually relax into actually giving you your own time alone once he’s gotten his fill of you. Content to simply be in the same room with you.

P(resent) - Do they often bring home gifts for their partner? What do they usually buy?

Brings you souvenirs from different planets, like rocks or preserved plant life whenever he visits somewhere new, has definitely gotten you some novelty items before, like a t-shirt or bobble head. You find yourself learning a lot about how different planets aren’t to different when it comes to tourism.

Q(uarrel) - Do they get into fights with their partner often? Do they let it escalate or try to calm it down?

He’s not the type to back down so arguments aren’t impossible when you two disagree on certain matters, usually related to lantern duties.

While he can be hotheaded and say things that he regrets, he does have experience in reigning himself in and stepping away to let things cool down. He’s matured enough over the years to not want to avoid you or the problem, so rather than running away, he’d try to deal with the root of the issue a bit more calmly.

Doesn’t like to go to bed angry with you, and vice versa.

R(esponsibility) - Do they take on very many chores? Do they complain about it? How helpful are they when it comes to housework?

Not thrilled with doing housework but he gets what you ask him to do done. He probably has some bad habits like laundry on the floor or leaving dishes in the sink.

He grumbles about it, but he’s been in the airforce and lived alone before, so he’s not hopeless with cleaning and isn’t the type to leave you to do all the work alone. He’s seen his mom do it all, so he definitely knows to be considerate of you.

S(ickness) - How do they take care of their partner when they're ill? How do they like to be taken care of when the roles are reversed?

Sets you up in the living room when you’re sick, bundling you up on the couch and immediately making soup. Now’s the time to make him do what he usually won’t, whether it’s acting like an errand boy or forcing him to watch a show he’s refused to entertain before. Ignores your warnings to stay away and cuddles with you, claiming he won’t get sick.

When he’s sick, he’s either in denial of it and refuses to rest or he acts like he’s dying and needs to be pampered, becoming more petulant than you’ve ever seen him.

T(elevison) - Do they watch TV with their partner regularly? What do they watch? (Morning news? Sitcoms? Dramas?) Do they ever fight over the remote?

Hal’s a bit of a couch potato so watching TV is pretty regular (complains about streaming services a lot) for you two. Obviously you would have some baseball or football match playing during game season, but he’s surprisingly a sucker for reality TV, the trashier the better. Loves making commentary and stupid jokes.

Also gets into some dramas and soap operas with you, becoming increasingly invested with the characters, even if he pretends he isn’t.

Has fought with you over the remote to watch ‘the game’. Does not win.

U(nwind) - What's their favorite way to be comforted when coming home from a stressful day? How would they comfort their stressed partner?

You letting him melt into you, burying his head into your chest without a word, stroking his hair in peaceful silence means more to him than you could know. Just listening to your heartbeat and breathing in your scent lets him ignore whatever else is going on.

When you’re stressed, he tries to make your life easier, doing more chores and taking care of meals. He eventually drags you off to fly with him, before asking if you want to talk once your feet hit the ground again.

V(acation) - How often do they take trips with their partner? What is their ideal vacation?

Pretty often. Whenever you have the chance, really. He’s already known for having road trips with Oliver, so he likes traveling, whether it’s to another planet or some tourist trap in the middle of nowhere Oregon.

He would nerd out if you ever visited any Aerospace museum, spitting out any fact he knows about each display.

His ideal vacation would be an intergalactic road trip, swiping the fastest ship on Oa to see what the stars have to offer. His penchant for tourist traps and attractions aren’t reserved for just Earth. There will be hijinks and battles, as is his luck, but it will definitely become memories he cherishes.

W(edding) - Are they and their partner married? Do they elope or have a more traditional wedding, if any?

Could honestly see him be content with common law if that’s what his partner prefers, but he is the type to carry a ring with him for months before finally finding the right moment (meeting your gaze after an intense fight, both of you bruised and battered but smiling, laughing from what little adrenaline is still in your bodies before near melting in face of your gaze, naturally falling to his knees—) to actually propose.

He’d also have no issue eloping, but I can see him enjoying a small, intimate wedding with your loved ones (no capes or masks), sincerely professing his love to you as Kilowog weeps into a handkerchief.

X - Free Space. Write whatever you want.

Finally being rooted to spot, the intimacy between you two grows, with Hal being unabashedly touchy, wrapping his arm around your waist or gripping your knee or thigh, fingers stroking patterns into your skin.

The sex becomes more vulnerable too, with more eye contact and handholding.

It becomes pretty common for him to do some cockwarming, falling asleep inside you, nudging himself further inside you to get even closer or keeping you seated on him when you’re both relaxing on the couch. It definitely ends with him getting worked up again and going another round.

Y(earn) - How much do they miss their partner when they have to be away from home for a while? How do they react when they finally return home

He’s never quite content with the silence that comes with being a part from you, his thoughts drifting towards you more often than not. The type of think too hard about his last interaction with you and regrets not saying more, his goodbyes always rushed. Probably gets sentimental with a construct of you.

He holds you, when you do reunite, and doesn’t let go for a while.

Z(est) - Do they find domestic life boring or exciting? Do they regret choosing this kind of life

When he was younger, he honestly thought he would have issues with living the domestic life, but after the trials and tribulations he’s been through, he’s only grateful to wake up with you, to enjoy a boring, uneventful day with you, where there’s no threat or imminent destruction to worry about.

But, even if he’s old and wrinkly, he’s still sneaking off to the airfield to fly, dragging along either you or any child you two may have. Could see a scene where once he’s too old, it’s his child sneaking him onto a plane to fly.

Hal being confronted with his commitment issues and Carol wanting to marry him in GL 1990 and then becoming Parallax?? But going off the new 52 GL run where we get a glimpse of Halcarol growing old (will dc follow through?) and him carrying a ring in Flashpoint (before he blows up), he does eventually come around to the idea of settling down.

Also does anyone know if there is an elseworld or non main continuity Hal kid? Because so many other characters have non-canon or alt reality children, like injustice was handing them out (injustice🤢) and we got no cool Hal kid in Kingdom Come, like they literally took Helen from us, so I’d really like a story of a Halcarol child

Omg off topic but the reason we don’t get any Kyle or Wally in Kingdom Come (we get Alan and Jen) is because Alex Ross doesn’t like legacy characters lol! I think Hal wasn’t included because of Parallax, but rip Kyle, you got a possible future child in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps ig…

Masterlist

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unini · 17 hours ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎!

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You had just finished dinner and were standing at the sink, hands submerged in hot soapy water, steam curling up into your face. The warmth from the sink barely did anything for you—your cryokinetic body always seemed to pull the heat right out of it. And then you felt it strong arms sliding around your waist, a hot chest pressing against your back, and the unmistakable warmth of Johnny Storm wrapping around you. His body heat instantly started thawing the icy tension in your muscles. “Mm,” Johnny hummed against your neck, pressing his mouth to your skin. “Knew I’d find you here freezing your ass off.” His lips trailed up your throat, kissing toward your jaw. “You good washing dishes, snowflake?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Somebody has to clean up after you.” You let out a soft gasp, leaning back into him as his hips pushed forward. You could feel him already hard against your ass, grinding with deliberate pressure. Johnny smirked, grinding his hips forward so you could feel the hardness straining in his jeans. “Oh, I plan on making more of a mess.” Before you could answer, he was undoing his pants, and you felt him pressing between your cheeks. The sudden spike of heat made you shiver and moan, your breath fogging the glass window above the sink. “Johnny—” you started, moving your wet hands out of the dishwater. “No,” he growled against your ear, thrusting just enough to make you grip the counter.

“Keep your hands in the water. I wanna watch you try to stay steady while I fuck you.” ��J-Johnny…” Your voice shook as his tip pushed in, the heat of him spreading through you like fire. The contrast was overwhelming—your icy body quaking while his cock burned inside you.“God, you’re so fucking cold,” Johnny groaned, biting at your earlobe. “I swear I can feel you chillin’ me from the inside out. You like that, huh? My hot cock keeping you warm?” You moaned louder, forcing your trembling hands to stay submerged in the sink. Water sloshed as you braced yourself. “F-Fuck, Johnny… you’re too hot—” “That’s the point, baby,” he rasped, snapping his hips harder. The slap of his skin against your ass echoed in the quiet kitchen. “Take it. Take all this heat. You love it, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah—” you gasped, your breath frosting over the faucet handle. “Fuck, Johnny, feels so good—” He reached around with one hand, gripping your throat, tilting your head back so you could see his reflection in the windowpane. His other hand dug into your hip, pulling you back on each thrust. “Look at you,” he smirked, sweat gleaming on his forehead. “Hands in the sink, body shaking, letting me use you like my own personal icebox.” He slammed deeper, making you choke out a cry. “You were made for me, snowflake. My fire, your ice—perfect fucking match.” You whimpered, trying to keep control of your voice as the dishes rattled under your hands. “Johnny—I’m gonna—” “Cum for me,” he whispered hotly into your ear, hips snapping faster, “and don’t you dare take your hands out of that water.”

His pace grew erratic, desperate, slamming into you until you cried out and spilled hard against the edge of the sink, hands still plunged in the soapy water. A second later, Johnny groaned against your neck, thrust deep one last time, and released inside you, his heat flooding your frozen body until you nearly collapsed against the counter. You were panting, still gripping the edge of the sink. Johnny kissed your cheek, breathless but smug. “See? Multi-tasking,” he teased, giving your ass a final smack. “We should wash dishes together more often.”

Taglist ~ @starboye @boypied @cronasluvr @magicstarbits @capsicleforever @loverclear @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @sluttyhusband @carnalcrows @amor-xoxo

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unini · 17 hours ago

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𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝐆𝐮𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You were already breathless, sprawled out on your back, sweat sticking to your skin. His smirk hovered above you, smug and infuriating, the kind that made your pulse pound. “Damn, you’re twitchy,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly as he pushed two fingers inside you. He curled them deliberately, dragging against every spot that made your back arch. “Look at you, falling apart just from this.” You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a moan, but it slipped out anyway. His grin widened. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he teased, leaning down so close you felt his breath.

Then he pulled his fingers free, leaving you clenching around nothing. Before you could whine, a faint green glow lit up the room. His ring hummed, crackling with energy, and suddenly you felt something else pressing against you. Not his fingers this time — constructs, perfectly smooth, pulsing with his will. You tried to speak, but before you could form the sentence he pushed forward, driving himself into you in one hard, claiming thrust. The sound that tore from your chest was half-moan, half-cry, your body stretching around his cock. “Shit—” he hissed, head tipping back for a second as he bottomed out. His chest pressed hard against yours, hot breath grazing your cheek as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing yours when he spoke. “Tight as hell.”

You bucked up against them, your voice breaking. “F–fuck…!” “Language,” he drawled mockingly, eyes glinting as he watched you squirm. “You like it though, don’t you? My will wrapped around you, pushing deeper… filling you exactly how I want.” The constructs twisted at his command, teasing spots he hadn’t touched yet, while his thumb pressed firmly at your hip to keep you down. You couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but take it while he studied your face like he was memorizing every reaction. “Look at you,” he said with a wicked grin, “squirming, begging, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet. Gonna make you lose your damn mind.”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing on nothing but light,” he said, voice low and rough. “Bet you never thought you’d get split open by a damn construct, did you?” Your hips jerked up, chasing the sensation, but his palm shoved your chest harder into the bed. “No, no, no—none of that. You don’t move unless I let you.” “Please—” you managed, your voice cracking as the glowing fingers spread and curled inside you, relentless. He laughed, biting at your jaw as his free hand squeezed your face, making you look at him. “Begging already? Damn, I like you better like this. Wide open, pinned down, stuffed full of what I decide you get.”

The constructs pressed harder, twisting in ways real flesh couldn’t. You swore you saw stars.

Taglist ~ @starboye @boypied @cronasluvr @magicstarbits @capsicleforever @loverclear @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @sluttyhusband @carnalcrows @amor-xoxo

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unini · 2 days ago

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HE LOOKS SO GOOD. GOD DAMNIT

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unini · 2 days ago

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HE LOOKS SO GOOD. GOD DAMNIT

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unini · 2 days ago

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𝙀𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙧 𝙊𝙙𝙙?

Your boyfriend’s sometimes questionable behaviour.

Proud food thief. If you’re eating ice cream, he’ll lean over you shoulder to take a chomp. If you’re holding a drink, he’s snatching it to take a gulp, slurping obnoxiously. Never orders the same thing as you because he knows he’ll get to try it anyway. Has literally kissed you to steal chocolate you’re trying to eat. Disgusting. He claims your look of indignation makes food taste better

Booster Gold, Guy Gardner, Wally West, Johnny Storm, Wade Wilson, Pietro Maximoff

Accidental food thief. Roots through the fridge, probably at the dead of night or crack of dawn, and eats the first thing he locks onto without really paying attention. When it turns out to be something you were saving, he sheepishly tries to get back on your good side with a replacement snack.

Kyle Rayner, Ted Kord (did your heart condition disappear again), Barry Allen, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker (weekly occurrence), Bucky Barnes, Scott Summers

Talk during movies, whether it’s to crack jokes or criticize the plot, ends up predicting the entirety of the story and its twists. DONT bring him into a movie theatre unless you want other attendees to assault you two with popcorn.

Guy Gardner (“there are other ways to make me shut up, yknow?”), Bruce Wayne (you’re actually a bummer), Johnny Storm, Wade Wilson

The type to always set a plate for you even when you’re apart, whether because you’re just coming home late or if it’s been months since you two have been in the same room. It’s become more than habit, something engrained for him to do. Maybe he hopes it will summon you like an offering to a god.

Kyle Rayner, Jason Todd, Jean Paul Valley, Scott Summers, Kurt Wagner

Has squared up to kids on your behalf, and you can’t even tell if he’s doing it jokingly or not. A little eight year old declaring he’ll marry you? He’s looming over them, telling him he’ll have to go through him before he can get to you. Now has to duel said child in ten years for your hand.

Wade Wilson (put your gun away, Wade), Pietro Maximoff (that’s your nephew??), Bucky Barnes, Marc Spector

Disturbingly perfect memory and recollection of you and your days spent with him, recalling the most minute details to the point where you may accuse him of being a stalker. Definitely uses this against you in arguments, quoting you with timestamps. Might end up a bit sullen if your memory isn’t up to par, especially when it comes to plans you jokingly made a year ago. Could literally tell us a false memory, and you’d be inclined to believe him.

Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, John Stewart, Scott Summers

Uses you as a fidget toy, near obsessed with squishing your thighs or playing with your fingers in public, barely paying attention to whoever is trying to get his attention. Sometimes he comes home just to make a beeline to you, trapping you in his arms as he near tries to fuse with you. Randomly squishes your face throughout the day and even pinches your nose out of nowhere. You can physically see the cuteness aggression hit him.

Hal Jordan, Roy Harper, Wally West, Jason Todd, Clint Barton, Remy Lebeau

Just casually has a shrine of you, but doesn’t acknowledge or even realize it’s a shrine. Might call it a corner for you, filled with pictures and momentous, which is very sweet, but it’s positioned in a way where it’s just missing candles to look like an offering table. Might even print out a poster of you, on full display in his living room ‘for motivation’. It is very embarrassing, and he’s somehow oblivious.

Kyle Rayner (smack to him to make him stop making constructs of you), Booster Gold (why does it look like a memorial), Barry Allen (only has a poster of you as a ‘do it for her’ kind of thing), Marc Spector, Remy Lebeau (he’s fucking with you)

Unironically has memory montages of you the way male protagonists do when their wife is dead (you are alive), where you’re just stupidly happy and soft, waking up next to him, lightly teasing him——the whole spiel. Nearby telepaths are side eying him. Would also do this if you did die.

Kyle Rayner (this might be canon), John Stewart, Scott Summers, Logan Howlett

Bad texter, has sent you the thumbs up emoji as a response before. Asking him if he wants something to eat? 👍 Can he grab you something before he comes home? 👍 are you alive?👍 Has made you a victim of ‘ok’.

Ted Kord (only when he’s justifiably busy, Jaime almost died again), Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (is half dead), Jean Paul Valley, Peter Parker (is currently getting his ass beat), Matt Murdock (literally has to use speech to text, give him a break), Bucky Barnes, Scott Summers

Spams you and actually expects a response, constantly sending you random clips and pictures, saying ‘us’. Actually gets pressed about keeping streaks and will literally hunt you down to send him literally any tiktok so your hundred day streak doesn’t die, so help him.

Roy Harper, Booster Gold, Johnny Storm, Pietro Maximoff

Regularly found bleeding out on your couch. Does not explain.

Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Clint Barton, Marc Spector

If you two watch the first episode of a show together, it is now a shared activity. If you go off to binge it on your own, he actually gets offended. Yeah, he’s been missing for a month, but that doesn’t mean you get to watch the rest of it! This was literally your thing! He is fully serious.

Barry Allen (a hypocrite, he does the same thing, but pretends he doesn’t), Ted Kord (Babs is the one to tell you), Wally West, Guy Gardner, Wade Wilson, Clint Barton (double damage if you watch it with Kate instead)

Accidentally makes people think you two are married based on the way he talks about you, messing up on how refers to you without even realizing it. People think your pet is actually a child, he’s been invited to parent groups and playdates. Too far in to reveal the truth, ends up borrowing whatever kid he knows to keep up with the lie. Ends up buying you a ring before realizing he should actually just propose.

Jason Todd, Kurt Wagner

You jokingly (yes jokingly) tell him to dress up as your favourite character and send you a dirty video (context might be needed). He actually does it, literally used express delivery to get the cosplay. If those dms are leaked, your life is over.

ADRIAN CHASE (literally has told everyone, asked John for advice to ‘stay in character’, even peacemaker is judging you)

‘Omg didn’t you say you don’t write for live action’ he is literally the only man I can think of that would actually do it😭

Masterlist

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unini · 2 days ago

Text

BOOTY SO BIG🌺

(lawd..have mercy)

pairing‧₊ ̊🍹✩ ₊ ̊🍉⊹♡. . . perverted bf x big booty(🤤) male reader

warnings𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱. . . having gooning sessions , body worship , reader got a fat ass , spanking , purposely buying someone tight clothes , hinted himbo reader(heavily implied that reader is in fact a himbo. he doesn't need to be buff in your perspective tho he is got a nice ass), VERY cringe wording i refused to read over it, obliviousness, public-ish sex

background knowledge⋆. 𐙚 ̊🍋‍🟩♪⋆.✮. . . your boyfriend loved absolutely everything about you. especially your ass. loves the way it jiggles when you walk, loves

tag list🏷️. . . @dearestlitteleaf , @sillyvan , @s1llygo0s3 , @petrinholas , @marsttl , @haru1yoshi , @kanade-k7

notes. . . y'all im sorry again school is annoying and im always taking longggg naps on weekdays😔 i never proofread

he met you on a bad day. terrible day in fact. he only got half credit from his professors due to a late turn in, people were doing too much, he wasn't getting enough sleep, and his managers were such assholes at his job. he just needed a smoke, that was it.

what he had expected was to get his pack and go, smoke the cheapness of the cigarette filter when he got back outside. but what he hadn't expected was the see the finest man in existence to snap him out of his tiredness. you were real sweet for this time of the day too, all about "hi! welcome to the gas station, how many i help you?" bright and pretty smile on your face, gave him a little wave too. you were already cute, he was already captivated.

"i'll get uh.." he squinted his eyes a little. "camel brand please." he nodded, with a "you got it," then you turned around— good lord you turned around. he noticed the shape first, the way the back of your shirt rested at the top of your ass, tight and hugging that bit. then the way your pants had hugged the curve so damn good he felt himself salivate. then it was the way it moved, a small step making your cheeks jiggle subtly but very very noticeably. he took in a sharp breath, leaning on the counter as his hand covered his mouth.

"here you are sir," you handed him the pack, calculating the price. but no, not yet he couldn't leave. "ah..shit. im a fuckin' idiot i meant marlboro." he hated that brand. he tskd, handing the pack back to you and you reassured him it was no issue. his head went a little to the side, tongue licking at the top row of his teeth. yeah, watch you arch your back reeaal good and pop that ass out for him— "here you go! just need your ID please and that'll be 2.50." he gave an mhm, and gave you the things needed.

constant visits to the gas station turned into conversations on your break, to number and social exchange, then he was inviting you to his dorm room and holding a (ass)cheek with his tongue down your throat. he wasn't too subtle about it anymore if you could call his past little flirts subtle, though to you they definitely would be. he would smack your ass whenever you got up or walked in front of him, especially if it was up the stairs. he would give comments, squeeze real tight and bend his finger near your hole just to see you flinch and jump. it was cute.

it was even better when he fucked you, having you bent in front of him and each plap, plap, plap of skin drove him mad. his hand could be elsewhere yet his eyes would be fixated on the way your ass rippled with each thrust of his hips slapping into your skin.

you shivered, teeth clenching together hard enough to grind as your fingers gripped to the front counter you worked behind. the gas station apron you wore was loose around your hips, pants down to your ankles and back arched to perfection. his pupils dilated, hands squeezing at the fat flesh of your glutes as his hand lifted and— "ah!?" a harsh thwak echoed throughout the small store, your squeal of surprise even louder. "mhm.." he huffed through his nose, never stopping despite the very stinging burn pulsing through his lower back and hips.

"yeah, look at this ass bouncin' for me baby." your head turned back, embarrassment clouding your face completely because he was right. you could see the way your arch made the globes of flesh bigger and you could genuinely see it. you whined, flustered as ever and burying your face into your arms like that would erase it all. even worse was that you could feel it too.

"na-uh, don't be all shy with me now." he clicked his tongue, fingers coming to your hair and pulling so harshly that your scalp burned. "i said look. 'nd you gon' keep lookin' understand me?" you hiccuped, nodding your head as your glossy eyes flickered towards his hips pounding the ever loving hell out of you.

whenever he got you pants they wouldn't ever last long. he would buy you things all the time when he should be paying his tuition, yet each time he past the leggings section or jeans he just had to buy the entire rack of each.

"mh..this is..eugh–" your fingers looped around the jeans loops, your legs shuffling a little to try and get the waist line above the bottom part of your body but it just wouldn't go up! "this is a little tight.." he almost told you that was the entire point. you scoffed in annoyance, your toes tipping before you lightly jumped— fuck.

on about the fifth jump they popped on real quick. you huffed with accomplishment, buttoning and zipping up your fly. "alright! i got them on thankfully!" he nodded, standing up and turning you around to face the mirror again. your face dropped seeing his hands start to unzip the fly and unbutton the button. this asshole.

"i just got these on! you can't just take them off!?"

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unini · 3 days ago

Note

HELL FUCK YES JASON TODD WHO’S NEVER BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP AND JUST ASSUMES UR DATING NOW.

Who cares if you guys haven’t kissed yet? Physical intimacy isn’t everything and he’s willing to wait (researching how to kiss properly, cause ya know he kinda died before he ever really got to experiment 😔)

Tired of sex god Jason, give me more clueless loser please 😩.

(Guy and Booster too, am actually now obsessed with this thought 🫡.)

I feel like the ‘sex god’ characterization suits some of the older characters a bit more, personally, since I see Jason as someone who is a bit more slow to become vulnerable and intimate with someone, preferring to build trust and a friendship before diving in! And I think he sees a romantic relationship as a friendship but with more affection maybe?? So things won’t overtly change all at once, but there’s certainly a shift? He stands closer, hands brushing against yours or nudging your foot from under the table. Actions speak louder than words for him. Declarations of love and affection are something he needs a bit more time to work up to saying so he’s content with just staying by your side (kind of like a big, calm dog?)

Dies a little when he realizes you don’t remember, stop him from disappearing in embarrassment😣

I think with Guy, he kinda waits for you to initiate so you only notice him acting a bit softer at first. When you drunkly confess, he just accepts he will die for you, which he would already do for you before that, but now it feels like something brought to life, a physical vow.

And with Booster, he’s just prime misunderstanding material and very respectful of boundaries with touch lol!

Happy to hear from you Kitkat!! I’m glad you enjoyed the post and I got the Guy fan mark of approval! 💚💚💚

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unini · 3 days ago

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hello!👋🏻💕 I was looking around and came across you’re page and found a Sylus x bottom male reader. I was wandering if you can do another ff for it.

If you don’t want to it’s fine.🥰

I also started following after reading you’re other ff.

— 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Tags: Bottom!Reader, Top!Sylus, Degradation, Marking Kink, Mentions of Blood

— Requested? Yes

A/N: Omg I'd absolutely love to make another Sylus x bottom reader heheheheeeee, this turned out to be a lot more kinky than intended- not sure if u wanted a continuation of the previous Sylus fic or if you just wanted another Sylus x bottom!male!reader sooo, I went for the latter, but reader has somewhat the same personality as in the previous fic. Nevertheless, hope you enjoyyy xoxo!

!! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD !!

Usually, Sylus' visits to your office were the usual 'secret organization' meetings. He needed intel, and you provided. Of course, the information he sought was never easy to gather; to attain such sensitive gossip, Sylus had to exchange something of equal value. At first, you were quite fine with money. However, soon money was in surplus, holding no leverage in your line of business anymore, and then you started exchanging information for information. Now, however, you weren't quite satisfied with any information Sylus was giving in exchange for the intel he so desperately sought.

"Is that really all you can offer, Sylus?" You mocked him, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him, challenging him.

The other man remained unfazed by your disinterest; he's grown used to your insatiable nature. You always needed more, more, and more, didn't you? "If you are not satisfied with what I can offer, then what else can I give you, [Y/N]?"

Your expression morphed into something more mischievous. Resting your chin atop your closed fist, you held your other hand out before you proposed something you knew Sylus would happily accept. "If you truly desire this information on the girl, Sylus... then prove to me just how far you'd go for it."

Sporting a Cheshire grin, you leaned back against your chair and once more crossed your arms. "How desperate are you, I wonder... to know more about her?"

Sylus' expression faltered, and he let out a sharp breath. He contemplated your words; he already knew what you were implying. He, of all people, had seen the things your other clients had done to have your precious information, and this wouldn't be the first time he'd had to prove to you the lengths he'd go for vital intel.

With an air of certainty, he stood up and approached you, walking behind your desk to stand right in front of you. "Fine, since you want me to prove how far I'll go, why don't we get somewhere more comfortable?"

"Hmm?... no, I'd prefer we keep business strictly in my office, Sylus."

The man smiled, eyes narrowing, "Ah, yes, of course." He leaned down, face now close to yours. Before he laid a hand on you, though, he had to ask first. "May I?"

Being the ever-so-teasing man, you only raised a brow, faking obliviousness, "What ever do you mean?"

Sylus smiled wider, "May I touch you. Show you my means to have the information I so desperately need."

"Hm..." you hummed in amusement. Sylus was playing his part well; you loved how he was still so cocky. "Alright, go on then. Show me."

Moments later, Sylus acted without shame. He knelt before you and spread your legs, moving so he sat comfortably between them. You could see his eyes practically glinting with hunger now. Honestly, you weren't sure if he was doing this for the information or to get back at you for your constant teasing. He unbuttoned your pants and took your zipper between his teeth, pulling down sensually while keeping his gaze locked on yours, ruby-red eyes piercing back at you. At the same time, his hands slid under your top, the coldness of his hands only serving to turn you on ever more, your arousal made apparent by your growing erection.

Sylus pressed his face against your bulge, sniffing quite audibly.

"Oho... shameless man." You bit your lip, cock twitching beneath the barrier of cloth.

"I'm only proving a point, [Y/N]," he then dragged down your boxers using his teeth again, just enough to free your cock. His hands on your smooth stomach traveled upwards, now resting on your sides.

A gentle sigh came from your lips as you closed your eyes, "You always know how to please me, don't you, Sylus?"

"Of course..." Sylus turned and nudged your semi-hard cock with his nose, tongue out to lap at your balls. "How else would I keep this feisty kitten wrapped around my finger?" he mumbled against your length, only serving to fuel your insatiable desire.

Sylus brought his hands back down, their cold touch lingering on your warm skin. He took your cock gently and started stroking, nice and slow. Meanwhile, his skilled mouth continued its ministrations on your balls all the way to your base, coating your cock in his saliva. It didn't take long before you had your head thrown back against your office chair, mouth left open, and spewing out breathy moans and gasps. he hadn't even fully undressed either of you yet.

He moved from your base and further south. His hands left your length and held your hips, gently pulling you so you were slouching against your chair. He tugged your pants down along with your underwear. Your eyes managed to flutter open, watching him with a playful smile still on your lips. Who knew what he'd do later, but you could only feel more aroused at the possibilities.

You were left in nothing but your top now, Sylus lifting your legs for a better view of your newly exposed nether regions. He put one leg onto his shoulder and held the other with one hand. Your cock visibly twitched when his face drew near, but he wasn't heading for your cock, he was heading for your puckered hole, it was gaped just slightly from frequent use. He pressed his face against it, lips pressed right against the sensitive opening.

"Nggahhh..." You moaned out, hands coming down to tug at Sylus' silver locks.

He groans at the tugging, messily sucking, and pressing his tongue inside you.

"Fuck—yes..." Once more, your eyes fell shut, the grip on Sylus' hair only tightened with each careful lick. His tongue was long enough to reach all the right places; the lewd sounds of slurping began to fill the quiet office, accompanying your meek little breathless whimpering.

Sylus repeatedly tongue-fucked you then and there, his wet appendage sliding in adn out and in and out, stimulating your already sensitive anus. Your head fell to the side, mouth left agape as constant please for more continued to escape you. You were already a mess and Sylus didn't even need to get naked, you blamed it on your sensitivity.

Sylus could feel your hole practically spasming around him, he pulls away before you can cum. You almost tug him back, but he meets your eyes and gives you a reassuring smile, "Let's change positions, shall we?" He spoke, low and commanding, but both of you knew who really had a say in this situation.

You huff and close your legs as Sylus stands up. "Fine..." You purse your lips, and without further instruction, you sat yourself on your desk, uncaring of the many papers scattered on it—you had multiple copies anyway. With a cheeky grin, you discarded the last of your clothing and lay back, showing off your body to the man before you.

Sylus, meanwhile, was also busy taking off his clothes as well, but as he finished, his eyes fell on your body, fully naked, legs spread, and your damned ass pussy practically winking at him; he couldn't hold back for much longer.

"Do you enjoy teasing me this much, [Y/N]...?" He asked as he approached you, taking his place between your legs once more.

You grinned as you heard his silly question, "What do you think, Sylus?"

"I think you're an insolent man who wants nothing more than to be used," he leaned down and took your face, squishing your cheeks with his large hand.

You giggle, raising a brow in curiosity, "Maybe you're right... maybe all I want is for men like you to use my body in exchange for the information you seek."

"Then who am I not to give you what you want?" His hand left your face and once again gripped your hips harshly. He positioned himself, letting his girthy tip and your needy cunt meet but not putting applying the needed pressure to penetrate you. You can't help but whine, you were already sensitive enough from Sylus' earlier ministrations.

“Yo— ahh!” Your head falls back again with a small thud, mouth falling open once more as Sylus essentially slams himself in, uncaring of your underprepared hole. “Mmnhh…” a whimper left your lips as Sylus started moving immediately after, the grip on your hips tightening as he pounds you silly.

Your mind’s practically mush now, back arched in pleasure. The burn you felt from being stretched around such a large cock was enough to make you cum, but you held off, “Sylus… mmn…”

The man looked down at you, at your messy, fucked out expression, he smirked and reached out, cupping your cheek while he kept thrusting harshly, your desk sturdy and managing to stay put somehow. You leaned against his calloused hand, closing your eyes.

“Look at you, you’re falling apart just from a few thrusts, hm?”

”Mmnhh…” you could only respond with a whimper, Sylus now digging deeper. You could feel his veiny cock constantly pressing against your prostate, making your mind go blank. “Fast— faster…”

“Faster?” Sylus laughed, pulling his hand away and gripping your hips again, “If you insist.”

He does as you ask and quickens his pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each harsh slam. He leans down and nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the scent of your cologne, “Mm… [Y/N], fuck,” he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

You cry out loudly, cumming from the electric pleasure of the bite. Sylus chuckles and sinks his teeth deeper until he draws blood, essentially marking you. You can feel blood sliding down your shoulder; it makes you shudder. Sylus maintains his thrusts, lifting your hips up higher as he pulls away from you. His eyes linger on the bleeding bite mark he left, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Before you could even comment, he pulled out just until his tip and slid in deeper, making you short-circuit again as you let out a gasp. "Fuh... ahhh...!"

Sylus' cock twitchies inside you, his thrusts growing sloppier as a sign of his impending release. You can feel yours building up as well. You whimper as Sylus suddenly takes hold of your cock and strokes you, calloused hand making the sensation ten times more pleasurable.

"Hah! Wait—" you try to reach for his hand but he drops your hips and takes your wrist, now looming above you as he pins your arms above you.

"You wanna cum, [Y/N]?" He whispers in your ear.

You whimper at the question and nod your head, "Please..." you moan softly as Sylus starts thrusting and stroking your cock faster. As he does so, you can't help but squirm under him, the feeling of your climax approaching overwhelming your mind and body.

Before you could even process, you were cumming for the second time, smearing your and Sylus' stomachs white and sticky.

Sylus lets go of your hands and raises your hips once more, his thrusts going even faster than before as he chases his own orgasm. You cry out at the overstimulation, hands flying to grip at Sylus' back, your nails digging into his skin and drawing blood as you scratch him up.

"Ah! Sylus— fuck! Fuck!—"

Sylus huffs and leans down, sealing your lips with a hungry kiss as he finally slams all the way in again and bursts his load within you, coating your red, velvetty walls white the same as your stomachs'.

As the two of you pull away to catch your breath, you grind back against his cock, really taking in the size that was inside you. You can feel Sylus' cum leaking out of you, most probably staining the papers below you. Sylus groans and buries his face into your neck, his hot breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

You clear your throat and turn your head before you whisper in his ear what he so desperately wanted to hear. "Her name is MC... she plans on entering the N109 Zone by acting as bait."

"I see..." Sylus hums, sinking his teeth into your neck this time.

"Ah..." your voice draws out a moan, just like before Sylus' bite pierces your flesh and makes you bleed.

"Now how in the world am I going to hide that, hm?" You chuckled.

"Don't." Sylus mumbles against you.

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unini · 3 days ago

Text

𝔉𝔬𝔵 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 Remmick x male reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to crave the murderous monster with red eyes waiting outside your door night after night. But monsters like him don’t wait forever. Patience runs out, and tonight you’ll learn exactly what happens after too many nights of teasing him past his limit.

Tags: Dark Remmick. Vampire x human. Some minor Original character x male reader. Possessive Remmick. Obsessive behavior. Protective Remmick. Manipulation. Corruption. You piss him off. Jealousy. Minor characters death. Lots of bite marks. Monster fucking. Blood drinking, blood kink, blood play. Rough sex. Dominant and pathetic Remmick. Brat tamer Remmick. Blowjob (R giving). Orgasm denial. Size difference. Anal sex. Breeding kink. Cum marking. Overstimulation. ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 1

Words count: 10000

The knockin’ was what dragged you up from the black pit of exhaustion, head jerkin’ upright from the hard oak of your desk with a jolt that cracked the stiff muscles of your neck.

The first thing you felt, though, was the tacky pull of dried seed clingin’ to your skin.

The knock came louder. Whoever the fuck was bangin’ wasn’t gonna quit.

Your heart jumped straight to panic—him? No. No, couldn’t be. Sunlight was still pourin’ through the windows, gold and warm, and the shadow on the floorboards told you it weren’t near dusk yout.

“Hey, you in there?” Caleb’s Mississippi drawl pullin’ clean through the door between the knocks, relief came first, then panic of a different flavor while you looked like this with a visitor outside.

“Goddamnit—gimme a fuckin’ moment!” you hollered back, already staggerin’ to your feet, lower back screaming in protest anf muscles knotted stiff from hours hunched over the desk. The claw marks on your side tugged too, stingin’ sharp as you bent.

Quick as you could, you stumbled into the washbasin, splashed cold water across your face and chest, scrubbin’ half-dried seed from skin that still felt too hot.

Tugged on a cleaner white shirt, buttons crooked in your rush, shoved into trousers that still bore a stain or two, prayin’ Caleb wouldn’t notice, as you ran a hand back through your mess of hair before yankin’ open the door.

Caleb stood there smirkin’, knockin’ hand still raised, dust on his boots, sweat on his brow and hat cocked back. What hit your eyes first was the two rifles jutting over his shoulder.

“Ya did not,” you blurted, voice all surprise and disbelief.

He grinned wider, teeth flashin’ in the light. “I fuckin’ did.” Eyes gleaming with the same stubborn humor he always carried since he enjoyed catchin’ you off guard.

Behind him, you caught the slanting orange of the sun heading toward its grave. Afternoon, not far from dusk, dread coiled up sharp in your gut. You’d slept the whole goddamn day away, leavin’ only a scrap of light between you and the night where Remmick would come prowling again.

He caught the flicker of hesitation that crossed your face, eyes narrowing just slightly as his mouth turned wry. “What’s that look for? Don’t tell me your scared t’ fire one o’ these. Thought your papa raised you up all full of guns n’ grit.” His tone was all teasin’, but it stung too close to truth.

You scoffed, playin’ it off, turnin’ on your heel and stridin’ back into the house. “Get in here then,” you tossed over your shoulder, voice full of false irritation. “Thought you told me yesterday ya’d somethin’ important t’ do.”

He stepped inside, door shut soft behind him, the familiar creak of boots on your wood floor. “Didn’t lie,” he said easily. “Busy as hell comin’ up here t’ shoot down a critter or two with ya. I know your workin’ the night shift, figured I’d see if your up f’ it.”

The shadow of his grin and the look he gave you, made it sound like somethin’ else too.

Muttering something half a laugh and half nerves while walking toward your desk, you scrambled fast, slidin’ loose pages and sketch paper into a drawer before Caleb could see. Things you wrote and drawings you’d scratched out with restless filthy hands last night: Remmick’s red eyes, those vicious claws and his cock, monstrous and obscene. Hell, you’d even tried sketchin’ the memory of it hard and angry, thick as you saw, the page smudged all wrong because your hand had been shakin’ while drawing.

Snapping the drawer shut, you reached into another and pulled free a small box of ammo. Extending your hand, silent and expectant, you shot Caleb a look that said clear as words: rifle. Now.

Caleb chuckled under his breath but dropped the bag from his shoulder into a chair in the room, slid one rifle free and handed it over. Steel cool and familiar in your hands, the Winchester Model 1894.

Checked the chamber, slid the cartridge in smooth, thumb flickin’ without fumble. The metallic snap and click sang in the room, sharp and satisfying. Safety checked, stock snug in your arm, you glanced up, lips quirkin’ in the ghost of a grin. “Ready.”

Caleb’s eyes widened just a hair, then his teeth caught the bottom of his lip and bit down, not just surprise, somethin’ warmer and almost hungry if you dared call it that. Then he nodded quick, almost awkward, eyes shiftin’ away as his voice dropped low.

“Alright then,” he said softly. “Let’s get goin’.”

The woods swallowed you both whole the deeper you went, quiet but alive, autumn at its peak and showing off like a painted masterpiece of gold, red and burnt orange. Every step crunched soft on fallen leaves, every movement stirred a swirl of amber drifting lazily downward. Shafts of light pierced through in fractured beams, glintin’ off the polished steel of the rifle slung ‘round yer right shoulder, and above, the canopy sighed with the endless breath of wind.

It was Caleb’s warm hand that touched yer shoulder and tugged, stoppin’ ye. “Reckon we’re deep enough now,” he murmured, voice a hushed drawl fit for reverence in this cathedral of trees. “Best we lay low, wait fer one t’ show.” Already he was crouchin’, gesturin’ for you to follow, rifles soon tucked beneath a scatter of brittle leaves, like old hunters playing at patience.

“Y’know,” you muttered while dropping down beside him, elbow to elbow in the cool dirt, heart slowin’ into the rhythm of the stillness, head tilting toward the rifles buried at yer side, “ya said somethin’ yesterday ‘bout how ya had guns collectin’ dust. But these—” you touched the sleek barrel peeking from the leaves, clean polish, the sharp metal glintin’ no older than a couple years, “—these look like they just came off the damn market.” Lever smooth, stock fresh, no rot or wear.

Caleb froze like a dog caught with his snout in a sugar sack before he stammered, eyes slidin’ off to the side. “Ah, well... hell. Didn’t figure ya’d notice.” He chuckled sheepish. “Rented ’em f’r today. Ain’t like I—well, didn’t think it’d matter none.”

You couldn’t help the snicker that bubbled out and before you knew it, your hand was comin’ across to smack his shoulder light. He jolted, actin’ like you’d hurt him, clutchin’ at the spot with a grin. Both of you broke into easy laughter, the kind only old friends could share, the sound warm and real in the cool air.

That warmth cracked the second you spotted a rather big deer, not thirty yards off, its head bowed to the ground, chewin’ on grass without a care in the world. You both froze. Caleb’s elbow nudged into your side, leanin’ in close, his left pressed firm against your right as he whispered, breath ghostin’ over your ear: “Go on. I’ll let ya take it. That way, if ya fuck it up, I ain’t the one to blame.”

“Real generous,” you shot back under your breath, sarcasm rollin’ thick but affectionate. Slowly and carefully, you lifted the rifle, steadyin’ it in the crook of your arm. The deer’s head kept shiftin’; you weren’t cocky enough to risk it, so you lowered the sights to its chest, breath held, finger curlin’ round the trigger.

The crack of the rifle shattered the quiet like thunder, recoil bitin’ into your shoulder, echo swingin’ off the trunks around ye. The deer bolted instantly, vanishing into brush, but not before ye saw it stumble. Both you and Caleb leapt up, boots pounding while joggin’ toward the place it had stood.

There was a thick splash of blood against the pale grass, still warm and bright. The trail wound ahead, droppin’ drips and smears as the creature fled. “Quick, c’mon!” You barked at Caleb, pointin’, already pickin’ up into a sprint. He nodded, grin wide and shouted after: “Hell of a shot! That was clean, boy, real clean—” but then he faltered, eyes widening.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Forgot the rifle.”

But you were already runnin’, blood trail in sight, ears catchin’ only his yell behind: “I’ll catch up! Just go! Don’t lose it!” You shouted back a quick “Alright!” and plunged deeper into the forest.

Here, the sun grew stranger. The canopy was thick, blockin’ most of the sky and the light came only in fractured flashes. Every time the wind stirred the leaves, golden shafts pierced down, shinin’ the way. When the wind died, the trees locked together, shadows dense as ink, swallower of light. Each step forward was another gamble of brightness and dark.

The blood trail, at first a thin string, grew thicker, darker, wetter. You stopped dead when you saw not just drops now, but a whole puddle splashed across the grass, a pool wide enough to mirror the trees overhead. Your gut tightened at the realization that something had caught the deer.

And not just caught, but ended it fast.

The trail didn’t stop, it dragged, streaks of crimson and torn earth leading deeper, away from the sunlit gaps.

You swore under your breath, grippin’ the rifle tighter till your knuckles whitened. Dumb fuckin’ Caleb, laggin’ behind, forgettin’ his gun.

The silence pressed heavy while your pulse pounded, sweat prickin’ your back. You stumbled distracted and a long branch tore across your arm, thin but deep enough to sting. You hissed through your teeth, seeing the blood well up in a thin trail, mingle with the smear already on the ground.

The blood on the trail still gleamed wet and fresh.

Whatever carried the deer had done so moments ago, moving quicker than thought, the light was dyin’ faster now, sky bruisin’ purple where it bled through the canopy.

Finally, you reached the end of that trail which bled straight to the yawning mouth of a cave. Wide, black and gaping, the outside bathed in sunlight due to the large lack of trees nearby.

Instinct screamed to don’t go closer. You lifted the rifle, angled the polished steel so the last threads of light would glint off it, makin’ a flash, just enough to pierce a fraction of the dark inside.

The beam caught fur, a piece of the deer’s body slumped on the cave floor, its side soaked black with blood, a raw gunshot wound torn through its flank. Relief hit sharp and sick: you’d hit it, right. But as you edged closer, slidin’ round its form, you saw what else had been done.

Its neck was ravaged, torn open in a gash so precise and brutal it couldn’t have been made by any knife. Flesh peeled back, veins shredded, the wound a perfect crescent where teeth had sunk deep.

You shifted further, until its head rolled toward you. Lifeless and glassy eyes staring straight at yours.

Something moved in the black.

Every hair on your body stiff when you jerked the barrel up, flashed the steel again and in that instant, you saw it a clawed hand. Long fingers twisted and ending in curved talons, veins blackened beneath red soaked skin. The sudden glint of light touched it and smoke hissed up, skin blistering.

A snarl rumbled low in the cave, then two red dots came, twin flames in the black, shifting from where they’d lingered over the carcass to lock square on you.

The dots rose higher to indicate the figure stood up and got closer till . he filled the threshold of shadow and the dying light framed him.

Remmick was exactly as he’d been the first night you saw him, the dying light barely brushin’ him. That tank top clung to his chest, sweat-stained and filthy, browned from dirt and blood. Skin smeared dark, streaks of gore staining his throat and jaw, all the way down into the fabric. Mouth painted in red with teeth glinting between lips that peeled back just enough to show fangs. Blood slicked his chin, dripping in lazy rivulets down the cords of his neck. His hair hung damp, plastered in strands against his forehead, shadowing the glowing hellfire of his eyes.

Smoke curled still from the blistered skin of his hand, but he didn’t flinch.

“Darlin’.” It rolled off his tongue in that lilted Irish rasp, fond and hungry in equal measure. The sound of it hit you deep, made your gut twist because you’d heard him call you that every night at your door. His shadowed frame shifted enough for you to see the gleam of wetness on his chin. “I could smell ye from miles out,” he went on and his words were almost a purr, “that sweet scent ye carry inside... I’d never mistake it.”

Those blazing red eyes caught the tiny trail of blood that welled from the shallow cut on your arm, the one you’d carelessly taken on a branch. His lips parted, tongue wetting them, the way he stared at that drop made your stomach tighten and your cock twitch against your will.

Suddenly, those crimson fires dulled. His irises bled back into a human blue, gentle and ocean-bright. You didn’t even notice when the claws shortened back into fingernails, his hand reshaping into the callused palm of a man’s.

If not for the fact he was utterly caked in blood, face smeared, tank top drenched, he’d have looked human. A stranger who could’ve been met on the street, hand open in a quiet, impossible invitation.

“Been lonely without ye,” he said, softer now, the husk in his tone heavy with something close to ache. “Spent hours hidin’ in here, thinkin’ ’bout ye. Especially after what ye showed me last night.” His grin widened, showing teeth stained red but dulled of their monstrous points. “Spent all those hours thinkin’ o’ ye, leakin’ and covered in my spend, such a sight ye were.”

The traitor of your body responded instantly, heat sparking low in your belly, cock twitching, blood pooling between your thighs. You cursed under your breath, shifted your stance, eyes dropping to the dirt as if that would disguise it. “So ye been hidin’ here all this time?” you asked, voice tight, hoping to turn his attention.

He nodded, boyish grin curling. “Aye. Nothin’ better t’ do, nothin’ sweeter t’ wait for.”

“You can come in,” he murmured huskily, voice dangerously low. “Take a look ’round. Maybe even do what’s already runnin’ through that wicked head o’ yers.”

He shifted then, giving a casual glance toward the dead deer. The bulk of its body sprawled at his feet. “Yer prize’s still warm. Could make a soft bed, darlin’. Lay ye right down on it an’ shag ye till yer throat’s raw from cryin’ my name. Can already picture it, y’sprawled there, yer skin painted in red ‘nd sweat. Wouldn’t waste a drop. I’d lick ye clean.”

The picture he painted was obscene and grotesque, yet hot enough that you clenched your teeth against the thought of it. His gaze never wavered from you, drool already gathering at the corner of his mouth, slipping down in a glistening line to his chin as he breathed raggedly through it.

A flash of red burst inside those human eyes, sharp and violent.

The reminder struck you hard: he wasn’t human. Not now, not ever.

You tightened your grip on the rifle until your knuckles strained white.

He followed the movement with his gaze, then chuckled low in his throat. With unhurried calm, he slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew the wooden dagger you’d carved, the very one you’d pressed into your wounds and blood-soaked last night. Its porous surface now stained dark with your dried essence. He tossed it lazily at your feet like a scrap.

“Look at ye,” he drawled, accent thickening, “armed wi’ toys. A wee stick ye think could pierce me heart. Now a gun in yer hands useless.” His lip curled, voice mocking. “Shite choice o’ armament, sweetheart. Can’t kill me wi’ playthings.”

“Worked fine what I had last night, didn’t it?” you shot back, cocky grin tugging your mouth. “When I burned half yer face clean off. Don’t need t’ kill ye, death’s too kind for the likes o’ you. My intent’s just makin’ ye suffer.”

The flash returned in his gaze, searing red erupting only to fade just as fast, leaving behind that impossible boyish grin, face painted in gore and lips curling with want. He had no right to look that good, yet you ached to be the red streaks painting his mouth.

Frustration obvious in the hard flicker of his eyes, yet infatuation just as sharp. He licked his lips, dragging the blood across them slow. “I’d never hurt ye,” he said finally, and for once the tone was sober. Then his grin sharpened. “Not unless ye begged me t’. Ye could learn a thing or two from me.”

You scoffed openly, memory of the night before cutting raw in your chest, the blur of trees as you’d run, his claws raking, that impact on your ribs when he pinned you. The sting in your side still burned where he’d slammed you down.

“Stop lyin’. Last night ya nearly ripped my chest apart, teeth bared for my neck. Don’t stand there and tell me ye wouldn’t hurt me.” You spat the words like venom.

He didn’t flinch or defend himself. “Aye... ye’ve got me there. Lost the head, I did. Ye’ve no notion what ye do t’ me, darlin’.” His jaw worked as though fighting something back, then he straightened and locked eyes with you. “But hear me now, ye’re mine. An’ I won’t let a hand touch ye, not even me own... ‘less it’s t’make ye shiver sweet under me. That’s me word.”

The sound of your name carried sharp through the woods, Caleb’s drawl warm and careless as ever, his boots crunching leaves in a rhythm that told you he was far too close.

Your head snapped toward the cave’s maw again. “Don’t you dare,” you hissed low, voice trembling not from weakness but from dread, eyes burning at the thought of Remmick tearing into Caleb’s throat like it was nothing. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

You didn’t wait to see if he listened, Caleb’s voice was already closer, and when you whipped around, your friend was there, looking right at the cave mouth with curiosity. The beat of your heart stuttered, then stopped cold.

Turning back, the dark place showed nothing bow. If he had shifted deeper into that black, he was gone from your sight.

“Hot damn,” Caleb whistled, breath catching in admiration. “Lookit that, you dropped a beauty.” He slapped you on the shoulder in celebration, his laughter rich and easy. Before you could form the words to stop him, he strode past, boots scuffing stone as he crossed the line where sun died into shadow and stepped right inside the cave.

Your lungs locked, every fiber of your being screamed to drag him back, but you were frozen. Caleb bent, one hand gripping the bloodied antler, the other hooking beneath the jaw and started to drag the heavy thing toward the light. His boots slipped on wet stone but he laughed at the weight of it like it was nothing more than farm work.

One wrong second and Remmick could shred him open like the deer. You barked at him, the urgency cracking through in your tone before you could hide it: “Caleb. Move, now!”

But he didn’t hear the fear, glancing down at the torn flesh of the deer’s side, he whined lightly and boyish. “Reckon a wolf got t’ it ’fore you did. Poor bastard didn’t stand a chance.”

The words snapped something sharp in you. “Exactly.” Word acting like a whip, spat like venom and too loud in your own ears. He froze, face loosing all its blood once realizing what you were trying to say. His eyes darted into the cave and without another word he hauled back, yanking the deer out of the shadows with a grunt of pure strength. His body staggered with the effort, but he didn’t stop until both he and the carcass were solid in the sun.

And still, Remmick did nothing, he had obeyed you against every instinct in him. The chaos inside you was instant: dread at what his obedience meant, guilt for the command, fury at his endless lies.

“Damn,” Caleb panted, wiping sweat from his brow. “We gotta remember this one. First real hunt.” He nudged the deer’s body with his boot until it rolled enough to hide the torn gash at its throat and then grinned at you, rifle tucked loosely at his side. “Let’s take a picture, eh? Somethin’ to keep.”

“No.” It tore out of you harsher than intended. Your chest felt tight; every nerve told you not to stay in front of that cave another heartbeat. “Not here.”

He blinked, confusion plain. “Not here? Man, there ain’t no light anywhere else. Too many trees. This here’s the only decent spot.”

You couldn’t argue without telling him the truth, your own eyes fixed on the cave. Something shifted inside. And then an arm looped around your waist, firm but casual. A cheek pressed close to yours, hot with sun and breath. Caleb leaned into you deliberately, the smell of sweat and tobacco invading your lungs.

He maneuvered you just so, turning your stance until the deer’s bulk filled the frame behind you. His hand lingered on your hip longer than needed, then he pulled a Kodak Brownie, boxy and simple camera. He fussed with it, the click of metal parts sharp in the silence while he leaned his head against yours as the shutter snapped.

A tearing and wrong sound came from behind you where the deer lay. A low gurgling hiss, then the scrape of bone against stone. You turned just in time to see the deer twitched, its body lurched unnaturally, eyes opening and no longer lifeless but molten gold, glowing like a candle about to die. Smoke already curled from its pelt as the sun seared it, flesh blistering in patches.

The reek of burning fur hit your nostrils an instant before it lunged.

It hit with the weight of a beast twice its size, knocking Caleb hard on the ground and making him land with his shoulder on a rock.

It’s jaws snapping shut on your jacket, teeth sinking through cloth and leather. The force ripped you off balance, dragged you forward with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible. Smoke rose from its flanks in thick curls, its golden eyes locked on yours, searing, full of wrath and hunger.

Those golden eyes a puppet’s mask and deeper inside the cave, two red lights burned steady, watching and controlling as it’s new ally dragged you toward him.

You thrashed, shoes gouging the earth, but the pull was iron. The stench of blood and smoke clogged your lungs and the sight of those glowing red eyes set your heart hammering. Any second you’d be yanked across the threshold, into his claws.

The crack of a rifle split the air as the deer’s skull burst when the bullet tore into its face, the impact jerking its head sideways with a sickening snap and, the already deep gash present on it’s neck, decapitated the no longer innocent deer.

The grip on your jacket released at once and you fell back hard, ass hitting the dirt, breath knocked out of you. Your chest heaved, hands trembling, every muscle screaming from the fight. Caleb was there in an instant, one hand outstretched to haul you up, the other still holding his rifle leveled loosely toward the smoking corpse, face contorted in pain by trying to hide it. “Y’alright?” he asked, quiet, urgent.

You stared at him, breath stuttering, but your chest burned with white-hot and vicious rage at Remmick. He’d lied with those blue eyes, soft promises drippin’ from bloodstained lips. He’d told you he wouldn’t hurt you, that he’d protect ye and yet he’d sicced a twisted beast on you, risked your neck just to reel you closer. The bastard would never change. Every sweet word and grin was a trap. You hated him for makin’ you want him even as he tried to break you.

The storm in your skull cracked, before you could second-guess it, you lunged forward, clutching Caleb tight, burying your face against his shoulder. His arms caught you on instinct and then you tilted, pressed a quick, desperate peck against his lips. Gratitude, rebellion and rage all in one strike.

Caleb froze, breath hitchin’, then his face softened, color risin’ to his cheeks. He looked down at you with somethin’ softer than surprise, almost intimate, lips partin’ like he wanted to say somethin’ but lost the words, awkward but sincere.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, raw and tired. “Can we go now?”

He nodded, dazed, still caught between confusion and that small, quiet smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The walk back to your place was so silent beside the crunch of leaves beneath your boots. But it wasn’t that kind of silence between two people soaking up a moment together without need of words. Your chest was a furnace of tangled fury and thoughts you couldn’t quiet if you tried, rage tangled with something darker you couldn’t rip out.

You thought about leavin’, for real this time. Just fuckin’ packing your shit and leaving this godforsaken patch of woods. Because it’d be easier to disappear than keep lettin’ yourself be worn raw by his visits night after night, your heart torn between loathing him and wanting to give in until you were ruined.

It wasn’t until Caleb broke through the noise with a casual, “Reckon I oughta wish ya a good shift tonight,” that you jolted from the storm of Remmick-thoughts, snapping you to the fact that your house was right there, the familiar wood and walls looming in the dim.

You mumbled something useless, not even words and then forced a nod, a smile painted quick and crooked across your mouth. “’Preciate it,” you added, voice hoarse, before turning toward home.

The sunlight was nearly gone.

His hand touched your arm and you stiffened so hard it hurt your spine, lungs seizing. He noticed, but read it wrong, thought your discomfort was about him. Brows furrowed with guilt as he spoke softer, “Maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow? There’s a bar down near your workplace. I’ll pay.”

The thought of “tomorrow” was already dust in your mind, because you weren’t gonna be here. Still, you let your lips peel back into a fake smile, tilting your head, softening your eyes. “Would love that, honestly.”

His face changed instantly, the smallest smile splitting wide, corners trembling as though he wanted to believe it so bad. “Alright then,” he murmured and as he stepped back toward his truck he threw a final joke over his shoulder, “Don’t fall asleep on your shift.”

The creak and cough of his old vehicle as he climbed in and started it up was the sweetest relief. Your heart, wound tight, loosened just a fraction at the sound of him pulling away, tires crunching gravel. You bolted inside your house, shut the door and pressed your back against it, chest heaving.

Not wasting a second, drawers ripped open, hands grabbing anything that mattered, papers and sketches you’d scrawled in restless nights when Remmick’s voice outside your window made sleep impossible.

The studio became a whirlwind as you gathered all those forbidden thoughts like drawings of his face; pages of words that weren’t confessions so much as curses, written in the half-mad tone of someone who hated the hunger clawing inside him yet described it in detail.

You had barely stuffed them into a pile on your desk when a knock at the door made every drop of blood inside your body went cold.

Readying yourself to face him, already knowing the battle of wills about to begin, to then hear—

“Hey, forgot my bag in here! Mind if I come grab it?”

Caleb’s voice cracked something worse in you, glancing around wild, then saw his bag, sitting right there on the chair in your studio where he left it when he came.

He’d left it and now he was outside in the dark, a seal floundering in open water with a shark circling.

“Come in!” you shouted, forcing your tone smooth, collected, hiding the panic that wrung your lungs. “Think I found it in the studio!”

Dropping the stack of notes, shoved them down flat, tried to bury them under each other, hands shaking. Then you rushed into your bedroom, yanking open drawers, shoving clothes into a bag while you heard him coming inside. Now there was the need to convince him to stay, keep him here till morning.

“Had a good time today, y’know! Well, minus that crazy deer tryin’ t’ ruin it.” You called, voice pitched high and false-cheerful, a small laugh tacked on.

Silence.

The air thickened, each second of no reply heavier.

Your blood turned to ice, dropping the clothes and bolted to the studio. He was there, back turned, shoulders stiff and head tilted down over your desk.

The papers were spread open. Your words in his mouth now, your private poison spilling in his voice as he read them aloud with a lilt you didn’t recognize at first.

“‘I fuckin’ hate the way he looks at me. Like he’s already got me on me knees, throat stretched, body split open.’” Gone was his Mississippi drawl, Irish vowels sliding off his tongue. “‘Hate the way my cock aches when he says me name. Hate wantin’ his teeth in my neck t’ ruin me over and over till I can’t think.’”

His hand flipped the paper, ink-smeared thumb smudging your writing further. “‘Handsome in a way that’s fuckin’ unfair, but I want him sinkin’ those claws in me hip again, his cock so deep in me I’ll feel it when I breathe. Hate that I want it.’”

Every word he spoke was a wound split open as your secrets were gutted and displayed in his rasp, a laugh tore raw from his chest, harsh and wrong.

Forcing your hand onto his shoulder, tried your best to sound sharp, “Ain’t nice t’ not mind your own business,” and then he turned his head.

Gold eyes glared back, throat torn wide open, a gash ripped across his neck, blood pouring thick and endless down his chest, soaking his shirt black. That wound was wrath carved into flesh, vicious and jagged.

His grin widened through the gore and his voice, breathed hot against while he spoke.

“He’s waitin’ for ye.”

A plea barely left your lips before his hand, damp with blood, snapped tight around your arm.

You twisted, dug your shoes into the floorboards, thrashing with everything you had but his pull was relentless, dragging you out of the studio, toward the front of the house. You fought like an animal, nails scraping the wood, knees slamming into the planks with a crack that jolted up your spine, but even then your hand groped, desperate, catching hold of one of the long wooden boards lining the floor.

It gave way, snapping uneven. You hit the ground with half of it still clutched in your fist, its jagged end sharp enough to draw blood from your own palm when you gripped it tight.

Your former friend dragged you still, door bursting wide open, to then flung you.

You hit the dirt outside, hard. Air ripped from your lungs, shoulder exploding with pain where it struck first, your back scraping over rough gravel.

Scrambling to your knees, coughing and spitting grit, eyes wild as they snapped toward the house and caught two burning eyes stared you down.

Red and hungry, belonging to Remmick. Blood was fresh on him, soaking his chest, smeared down his throat in dark and glistening rivers that made the pale of his skin shine, jaw wet and mouth red to the corners, every breath spilling steam in the cool night as he slowly walked in your direction.

You staggered upright, clutching that jagged stave and turned to run.

The impact came sharp and brutal, a blur of weight slamming from behind. Fangs punched into your right arm with a white-hot lance of pain that ripped a strangled scream from your lungs. His arms clamped around your waist, iron-strong, dragging you flush against his chest. Breath hot and wet against your skin as he growled into the wound, mouth working to pull and drink as much as possible.

The wet sound of him swallowing and grunting echoing sickeningly in your ears.

Your free hand clawed uselessly at his wrist, nails doing nothing. In a desperate lurch you swapped the jagged wood into your left hand, twisted awkwardly and with every shred of strength drove it down at his side. The point rammed into his hip, not deep but enough to make him snarl, body jerking back in startled pain.

“Shite!” A curse ragged, spit laced, Irish vowels breaking sharp as his grip faltered. The fangs tore from your arm, blood running hot down your skin as you stumbled free. By the time he ripped the wood from his flesh with a furious grunt, you were already gone, bolting into the forest.

Branches slapped at your face, roots clawed your boots, but you didn’t stop until your lungs burned like fire. You dove behind the thick trunk of a tree, clutched your bleeding arm tight, heart hammering so hard you thought it might burst. Every breath was a saw dragging through your chest and you fought to keep them shallow and quiet.

One vampire inside your house, another out here, no safe place left.

“Ah, Christ, ye ran fast. Nipped too hard, aye, I admit it. Only meant a taste, just t’ rinse the foulness o’ him from me mouth.” His voice rolled through the trees, low and husky, impossible to pin down.

The word him dripped contempt, spat venomous, like Caleb’s name alone was filth. His chuckle came after, wet and bitter. “Could hardly keep his blood down. Not like ye.”

That voice deepened, turned intimate in that way that wormed into your bones. “All them filthy verses in yer little books. I read ’em through his memories. I saw every word and felt every filthy thought ye spilled on paper with yer cock hard in yer hand.”

Your stomach dropped, nausea and heat twisting together.

“‘Said ye hated the want. Hated dreamin’ of me me to bend ye over till yer throat was raw from cryin’ my name, makin’ ye choke while ye begged for me cock.’”

The tree bark dug into your back as you pressed hard against it, legs trembling, cock stiffening in your trousers despite every instinct to run.

His chuckle turned dark, hot. “Tell me, lad, when ye scribbled that line, were ye already strokin’ yerself? Did ye spend in yer fist while writin’ about wantin’ me t’ fill ye till ye can’t breathe?”

You bit down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, desperate not to make a sound, deep down knowing that I was futile, already by how close his voice felt to your ears you could tell he knew where you were.

“‘Wrote o’ last night too, didn’t ye? ‘Bout wantin’ me to rip ye open, fuck ye till yer arse bled.’”

His voice cracked with hunger, trembling now with the force of it, each word a groan dragging out of his chest. “Christ, readin’ yer filth through his eyes nearly made me spill in my pants. D’ye know what that does to me? Know what it’s like t’ see my own hunger painted through yer mind? Come t’ me, please. Don’t make me search the whole fuckin’ forest. Let me have ye now. Let me make all them words ye wrote real. Let me, please...”

Your palm clamped hard over the bite on your arm, blood slick between your fingers.

He could have gone for your throat, buried those fangs in the side of your neck and drained you till your body crumpled empty against him.

Instead, he didn’t because this was a game. You were his plaything now, alive because he enjoyed it more this way.

Leaves crunched too close and you clenched your eyes shut, heart pounding like it might shatter your ribs, knowing there was no running now, whatever was about to come, you couldn’t stop.

The claws hit your throat first.

Five points of pressure dug in, cold as iron, curling round the column of your neck, squeezing enough to remind you how easy it’d be to twist.

Your back slammed into the tree, the rough edges biting into your skull as he pinned your head back when his mouth was on yours.

Lips crushed against your closed ones, hot and wet with your metallic liquid, sealing you off with a growl that reverberated into your teeth.

A violent and starving kiss.

Your stubbornness held, jaw clenched tight, lips sealed against him even as his mouth pressed harder, smearing spit across the seam.

He growled louder, chest vibrating against yours and shoved harder, head angling, fangs scraping threateningly as his tongue surged forward. You could feel it pushing, wet and insistent, lapping at the line of your lips, desperate to force its way in, every swipe leaving you wetter, mouth slicked with him though you refused him entry.

Your hands pressed uselessly at his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath the blood-soaked fabric of his shirt.

His other hand slid down, clawed fingers gripping your hip with bruising force, pressing his body flush to yours in a way that made your cock ache with unwanted heat.

The warning was clear in the pressure, but when you still held your mouth shut, his claws pricked.

Pain slicing hot as he pressed just enough for his claws to break your skin, thin trails of blood rising under his fingers.

“Ahn—!” The gasp ripped from you, raw and involuntary, all he needed.

His tongue shoved past instantly, invading the moment your lips parted. It was a wet, filthy breach, tongue plunging deep, sliding against yours with feral hunger. His taste was copper and salt, thick with the blood he’d already drunk, every swipe metallic and intoxicating, breath hot and rancid with iron.

Drool smeared between you, spilling down your chin, dripping onto your neck. Every guttural purrs and animal grunts vibrated straight into your frame, a soundtrack of possession as he devoured your mouth.

You pushed harder at his chest, panic mixing with the ache of need, your lungs burning for air. He didn’t care, hot tongue that kept moving, slicking over your teeth, dipping under, licking the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue into his mouth, groaning deep in his throat as though the taste of you was better than blood.

Your body writhed, the need for air clawing sharp in your chest, but he pinned you tighter, claws gripping your hip, grinding you against him until you felt the hard bulge straining through his trousers pressed into you as he rutted forward with small, desperate thrusts while still drowning you in his kiss.

You tried to turn your head for air, but his claws at your throat tightened, forcing you back, keeping you pinned in place as his tongue plunged deeper with sloppy slurps, saliva stringing between your lips.

When at last he tore his mouth away, your lips raw and swollen, you coughed ragged, chest heaving, every gasp of air tasting of him, iron and stink of blood hot in your lungs.

The ghost of a smirk curling his mouth, tip of his fang catching the light as he pressed close enough for your spine to ache against the bark. “Christ, I’ve wanted this, darlin’,” he rasped, voice husky and maddened.

You let your body sag forward against him, feigning exhaustion, head dropping to his shoulder as he licked the skin of your neck that hidden your artery to him. Your hand slipped down, fingers reaching toward your pocket just like last night, ready to burn him again and run to your friend’s vehicle—

The hand at your hip moved suddenly, claws slashing downward and tearing the fabric. The powder spilled, a useless pale puff that scattered down into the dirt where it vanished into nothing. His claws cut shallow into your thigh as well, a sharp sting that made your leg jerk as blood welled quick in the slice.

His face dropped close, fury etched sharp into every line. “Still got that fire in ye,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous, yet dripping with lust. His smirk stretched wider, savage. “I fuckin’ love ye too much fer it. But—” his tongue darted out, wetting the blood at the corner of his mouth, “—it’ll be a pleasure t’ snuff it out.”

“Y’know,” you murmured, eyes fixed on his, “I can still see your face from last night. When I burned ya, lookin’ so fuckin’ pathetic—” you let out a laugh, quick and sharp, “—like a mangy mutt whinin’ in the dirt. Funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

The effect was immediate, red eyes flared bright, jaw tightening and nostrils flaring. Fury sharp as a blade, but under it, deeper, you saw the hunger and infatuation that only your resistance seemed to feed.

He leaned closer until his breath steamed against your face, claws tipped under your chin, tilting your head up, “That smart mouth... better use for it down on me cock. Lappin’ me up, stuffin’ that pretty mouth full while I hear ye gag on it.”

He breathed heavier, chest pressing against you, voice dropping husky, “On yer knees, lad.”

You smirked faint, muttering through ragged breath, “Make me.”

One clawed hand pressed heavy on your shoulder, shoving you down with inhuman force until your knees cracked against the dirt and roots. Soon that clawed hand cradled your jaw, deceptively gentle, thumb pressed hard at the hinge as though savoring the fragility there.

“Bite me and I’ll not consider yer pleasure fer the rest o’ the night.” Voice that came calm, low and terrifying in its steadiness.

Trousers shoved down, his cock was freed. Heavy, thick and flushed dark with blood, veins rising along its length, tip swollen and already slick with precum that gleamed in the dim light. He guided it forward, the head slapping against your cheek, smearing wetness across your skin. Again and again, grin bared teeth as he taunted you with every slap.

“Got nothin’ t’ say now, eh?” His voice was a rasping sneer, blood dripping from his chin to fleck your face. “No sharp tongue fer me? No more teasin’? Thought ye had wit, where’s it now?”

You clenched your jaw, lips tight, refusing him the satisfaction, eyes locked sharp up at him.

The claws on your jaw tightened, digging just shy of breaking skin, his thumb pressing down on your chin until pain sparked. “Open.” You didn’t and he squeezed harder, thumb forcing your lips to part, prying your jaw open with brutal precision until your mouth hung slack.

“Tha’s better,” he growled, the sound more purr than speech. His cock slid forward instantly, head pushing past your lips, dragging wetly over your tongue. His other hand buried in your hair, claws scratching your scalp as he gripped hard and forced you closer.

The taste hit you first, the faint sting of blood mixed with precum. His breath hitched, groan guttural as your lips stretched around him.

He started slow, thrusting shallow, watching your lips seal tight around his girth, drool dripping from your chin as he fed you more inch by inch. “Look at ye,” he panted, red eyes wild, spit stringing down his jaw. “Smart mouth stuffed full, just as it oughta be.”

Your hands clawed weakly at his thighs, the tree bark biting into your back as he picked up pace, shoving deeper, cock sliding slick with spit and precum down your throat.

“Sound prettier wi’ me cock down yer throat than ye ever did teasin’ me. Bet ye hate how much ye love it.” His hand forced you deeper, claws tugging your hair until your throat bulged with him.

Soon those thrusts turned savage and desperate, cock hammering your throat until your eyes watered. His whole body shook with a feral snarl his cock pulsed, hot release flooding your mouth, ghick ropes spilling down your throat.

He held you there, cock buried deep, claws gripping your hair and jaw making sure you took it all while his groans rattled through his chest, spit and drool stringing from his chin to splatter across your face.

He pulled free of your mouth, cock dragging across your swollen lips, spit and cum stringing down your chin to drip into the dirt. Your chest heaved like you’d just surfaced from drowning, coughing, head tilted down as you tried to drag in air.

Sinking down to one knee in front of you, he got too close, face hovered only inches from yours, breath hot against your cheek, rich with iron and salt.

The monstrous red glow had faded from his eyes, leaving them that ocean blue you knew too well, soft almost, though it didn’t match the grotesque state of him. His claws had retracted, his hands broad, rough, human again.

“I ought t’ rip ye apart,” he muttered, voice quiet, raw, his gaze heavy on you. His jaw worked, throat swallowing like he was keeping something darker down. “After what I saw ye doin’ outside the cave. Knew I was watchin’, and ye let him touch ye anyway.”

Your throat burned with air and spit, but the words clawed their way out, sharp and spiteful. “You’ll never choose what I do. Not now, not ever.”

For a moment there was silence, then his mouth curled. His lips parted, flashing sharp fangs that glistened with spit and blood, each one long enough to pierce your throat in a heartbeat.

Drool still shined on his chin, voice dropping to a guttural whisper, hunger and lust twisting every word. “Hear me. I could care less what ye do in the daylight. Less what ye scribble, where ye go. What I’ll carve into that thick skull o’ yers is ye’re mine. There’ll be no foolin’, no one else ever layin’ claim.”

His chest heaved, voice breaking into a snarl. “Ye could start apologizin’ now, lad. On all fours. Either ye do it yerself, or I’ll bite every inch o’ skin ye’ve got until ye open up those legs f’me.” His grin widened, fangs flashing again, eyes wild. “Gimme an excuse.”

The threat sank into your bones, but your body betrayed you while shifting forward onto your hands and knees. He rose over, chest pressing heavy onto your back as he lowered himself, weight settling like a shackle.

His body radiated heat not the warmth of a man, but the feverish heat of fresh blood coating him.

“Tha’s my clever lad,” he whispered into your ear, his voice ragged. “Smart, sharp, but with a face too fine fer its own good. Better now. Gettin’ the behavior right.” His breath ghosted hot over your neck, and beneath the praise lingered something else, sharp and cold: a reminder. “Still work t’ do on yer loyalty.”

His hands, now human but calloused and rough, slid down your sides. They traced over the slashes in your trousers where he’d clawed earlier, palms spread wide, squeezing and caressing softly, almost reverent, before with a sudden tug he tore the fabric apart completely. The sound of it ripping filled the air, your ass bared to him as the cool night hit your skin. A low pleasant rumble built in his chest, vibrating against your spine.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance back at him, voice hoarse and mocking. “How’s yer side?” A reminder of the wooden shard you’d driven into him and the cry he’d let out.

The question had barely left your lips before his finger pressed against your rim, breaching you without warning. The stretch burned sharp and a hiss ripped from your throat. He didn’t give you time to recover, starting to fuck it in and out rough, fast, the intrusion brutal.

His blood-slick lips pressed against your cheek, hot and wet, his breath ragged in your ear. “Hated seein’ ye look at him that way. Spent nights wantin’ what ye gave him so easy. Intimacy I should’ve torn outta ye first.” He muttered, voice cracking with venom and need.

Another finger shoved in, then a third, the stretch burning, his pace merciless. He scissored them open, each twist forcing your hole wider, every time you tried to speak or protest, he stretched you harder, forcing the words back down into moans.

Through clenched teeth, you finally forced out, “He had nothin’ t’ do wi’ this.”

His fingers thrust deep once more, curling to press cruelly, making you gasp and then he pulled them out.

The emptiness was almost worse.

The fat head of his cock soon was pressed against your rim, blunt pressure that made your breath hitch, nails digging into the dirt. He pushed, the tight skin stretching painfully, a white-hot burn sparking as he forced himself in inch by inch, thick and vicious.

One clawed hand snapped around the back of your head, forcing your face down into the ground to then thrust, cock driving into your ass over and over, thick length filling you to the hilt each time. His drool spilled hot from above, landing wet across your back, dripping down as he panted.

You bit your lip until it bled, fighting not to make a sound, not to give him the satisfaction but the pleasure tangled with the humiliation, pulling moans from deep in your chest despite yourself.

His growl was cruel, mocking. “Tha’s how I always wanted t’ shut ye up. All them nights ye teased me safe in yer den while I was out here imaginin’ how ye’d feel wrapped round me cock, screamin’ my name.” His pace quickened, cock splitting you open again and again.

He bent closer, snarling into your ear. “And I despise all those thoughts he had o’ ye. If I hadn’t needed ‘im t’ get ye here, I’d’ve torn him apart myself.” His thrusts grew savage, grinding deep, anger and lust tangled in every movement.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, body betraying you, hips starting to move in time with him, desperate for release. The tight coil wound tighter, too close.

And then his clawed hand snapped around your cock, grip iron. He squeezed hard, base of your shaft gripped so tight the blood flow cut off, stopping your peak dead in its tracks.

A sob broke from you, raw and humiliating. His lips curved into a grin you could feel pressed against your cheek while his thrusts didn’t falter through your denial, pounding into you mercilessly, until his own body shook and his cock pulsed.

With a final snarl, he came deep inside you. Hot release spilled in thick pulses, filling you until it leaked around his cock, dripping down your thighs. A growl rattled through his chest, triumphant and satisfied as he stayed buried inside, seed marking you from the inside out.

His breath dragged ragged and hot across your cheek, every exhale heavy with the copper stink of blood and the musk of sex, chest rising and falling against your back like he was fighting to keep himself tethered to the world. The weight of him pressed you down into the dirt, cock still buried inside you, twitching, spilling the last lazy ropes of his release deeper until you swore you could feel it warm in your gut.

“Beg me,” he rasped, voice unsteady, drunk on the bliss that wracked him. “Ye beg me, an’ I’ll give ye whatever ye crave. Anythin’. Just let me hear it.”

The words knifed through you, dread blooming in your chest. The thought of giving him that victory made bile rise in your throat even as your body throbbed desperate for it. Grunting and forcing your lips shut, sealing them stubbornly against his demand.

He felt your refusal, a chuckle broke through the blaze of pleasure, trembling above you, cock already hardening again inside, thick length stiffening in your stretched hole.

He moved, almost like he was humping you out of sheer need, grinding into you desperate thrusts. His hips rolled unevenly, the feeling of him swelling larger with every push making your lip split as you bit down on it to keep quiet.

Grunting low against your ear, every sound thick with need, his breath hot as it spilled over your skin.

The longer he moved, the more control he lost, desperate humps turned to thrusts, sharper and relentless. His cock pounded into you again, thick length sliding in and out of your body with wet, obscene sounds, your rim stretched and raw as he split you open over and over.

His hand never left your cock, grip vice-tight at the base, crushing you just enough to keep you from relief. Every time your hips jerked forward in instinct, his claws pressed harder, strangling your release back into your body.

His fangs sank into your shoulder without warning, piercing flesh deep and tangling with the overwhelming stimulation flooding you. His cock fucked deep, hand strangled your cock and teeth drank from you, tongue lapping at it greedily as he moaned, low and obscene, his voice muffled against your skin.

“God, the sounds ye make,” he breathed, voice almost reverent through the slur of blood, hips never slowing. “Let me hear ‘em. Pretty sounds. Sing fer me while I ruin ye.”

You whined, a broken sound forced from your chest as his cock drove you closer and closer to climax you couldn’t reach. Drool spilled from his mouth as he kissed and licked at the wound.

Suddenly he pulled out.

The noise that tore from you was strangled, impossible to say if it was disappointment or relief. Your hole gaped empty, leaking his cum down your thighs, body clenching around nothing.

His hand clamped your hip and in one brutal motion he rolled you. The world flipped, the ground scratching your back, your body shoved flat into the dirt. He loomed above, straddling your hips, chest heaving.

The sight of him made your stomach twist, hair stuck damp to his forehead, jaw painted red, blood streaked down his throat and chest. Drool slicked his chin, shining as it dripped to your skin. His eyes burned down at you, wild and fevered, body trembling with lust and the sheer intoxication of having you.

One clawed hand lifted, reaching to your face. Against all that brutality, his touch came almost tender as his thumb dragged along your cheek. The raging red bled away, fading into that ocean blue you remembered, soft and almost human. The eyes of the boy who once worked his father’s land, who knew the sun and dirt more than blood and death.

He forgot everything else in that moment, lost in the sheer beauty of you wrecked beneath him, and the soft pride in his chest twisted with something fragile, almost tender, even as blood dripped down his chin and spattered your skin.

As quick as it came, it snapped under the pressure of his need, grin twisting back into something feral as one clawed hand caught both your wrists in a bruising grip to shove them up and tight above your head.

His other hand wrapped around his cock, thick and wet still from your body and he started stroking himself in long, greedy pulls, hips jerked with the rhythm, precum already bubbling from the tip, slicking his fist as he worked himself faster. His mouth came down to your collarbone, teeth grazing first, then lips dragging messily over blood-slick skin. He followed the crimson trail from the wound on your shoulder, smearing blood and drool across your chest, marking you down in wide, sloppy licks as he lapped your skin clean.

His mouth found your nipple and latched, tongue curled around it, dragging slow circles, wet and hot, before his teeth grazed dangerously close, fangs scraping while his fist twisted around the swollen head of his cock, breath coming in hot pants against your chest.

He shifted up, dragging his bloody lips along your skin until his face hovered over yours again and came with a broken snarl.

The first hot spurt hit your lower abdomen, splashing across your skin. Another rope landed higher, smearing sticky across your chest, then another, reaching as high as your throat. He spilled all over you, ropes of white streaking your ruined body, marking you in fresh lines over blood and spit, hot breath brushing against your lips as his body shuddered above yours and squeezing every last drop out until you were coated in his seed.

Finally, he let your wrists go. Blood-slick lips pressed against your cheek, hot and wet, then slid lower, dragging without pause down your jaw, throat, sternum. He kissed every inch like he couldn’t bear to leave your skin untouched, but the sweetness twisted into cruelty as soon as he reached your chest.

Mouth opening wide, fangs grazing again to then bite, scattering across your pecs, ribs, the soft flesh just above your heart. Red welts rising where his teeth tore shallow. Between every bite, his tongue swept over the mark, lapping at the blood, moaning low in his throat.

He groaned louder as he worked his way lower, lips and teeth leaving a trail down your stomach, past the streaks of his seed already cooling on your skin. His hot breath hit your desperate cock but he ignored it entirely, not even sparing you a touch.

He sank lower, fangs flashing again as he sank them in your thigh, the shock of it ripped through you like fire. Pain flared sharp, shooting straight to your cock.

Your voice cracked his name into the air, a breathless, broken whisper that dragged through your throat. His fangs left your thigh with a wet pop and a long rope of blood and drool clung between his crimson mouth and the puncture wound.

He lifted his head, eyes burning down at you. Fever-bright and hungry as he crawled up your body, mouth soon hovering over yours.

A low sound purred in his throat as his lips brushed your cheek, coating your face with spit and blood. At the same time, you felt the thick head of his cock pressing back to your rim, teasing you with shallow nudges, circling, dragging across the stretched hole he’d already wrecked.

“Please...” The word left you broken, pleases tumbled out as you wrapped shaking arms around his head. You felt his lips curl into a grin against your cheek, felt the way his chest shook with a breathless laugh.

He pulled back just far enough to look down at you, amusement glittering in his bloodshot gaze. “Please what?” he teased, voice rough and ragged, his cock grinding cruelly at your rim until you twitched beneath him. With one vicious thrust he drove himself inside you again.

The mess of cum and blood from earlier made it easier for him to bottom out in one brutal stroke, filling you entirely until your back arched, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

He stayed there, cock buried to the base, his lips hovering just above yours. “Say it again. Tell me what ye want.” He knew damn well you couldn’t answer, not with the sensation of him stretching you open.

Swallowing hard, forcing past the knot in your throat, you ground the words out through clenched teeth. “Fuck me—”

His red-stained mouth crushed against yours, sealing your lips, swallowing your voice in a kiss all tongue and teeth, his fangs scraping your lips as his tongue shoved deep inside, hips snapping forward at the same time, pounding into you with brutal rhythm.

The wet slap of his hips against your ass echoed under the guttural noises spilling from both your throats.

The heat in your gut coiled tight, finally snapping. Your release tore through you violently, cock spurting hot over your stomach, splashing across his bloodied abdomen where he pressed against you. The pulse of your orgasm made your hole tighten desperately around him, milking his thick cock and his groan ripped against your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Even in your bliss you realized he didn’t stop. His hips kept moving, rough as ever, rutting into you like nothing had changed. Your nails dug into his shoulders, grip tightening as your overstimulated body shuddered, the sensation overwhelming. His name spilled from your lips in ragged sobs, over and over, his name your only anchor in the storm of sensation.

And he purred in satisfaction against your tongue as he kissed you. The sound vibrated through your chest, smug, pleased, as though your cries were exactly what he’d wanted all along. “Tha’s it,” he breathed into your mouth. “Say my name.” He pounded you harder and rougher.

Then his fangs sank into your other shoulder and you screamed his name, your body tightening around him so hard he groaned in bliss. The orgasm ripped out of you again without warning, cock twitching as more cum spilled weakly across your abdomen. He slowed just slightly, savoring the feel of your hole clenching, your body breaking around him. His moans vibrated against your skin as he lapped at the blood gushing from the new wound.

When his tongue left the wound, he resumed his brutal pace, hips slamming down again, cock pounding your wrecked hole as if he hadn’t already wrung two climaxes from you. Tears pricked your eyes, your throat raw from sobbing his name. Every nerve in your body was on fire, the pain, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the unbearable pleasure all colliding until you thought you’d burst.

“Why?” he snarled against your neck, voice shaking with rage and restraint, his hips never faltering. “Why’d ye want t’ leave me?” His words raked at you, full of wrath, as though your answer was the only thing keeping him from ripping your throat open.

You sobbed through his thrusts, forced to choke the words out between gasps. “Do you really want me? Or’m I just another victim? Another body t’ your endless years?” Your chest heaved as you forced the truth out, your voice breaking. “I couldn’t trust you.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. But then, softer, rawer, your sobbing voice cracked further: “It’s not fair. You made me feel this way. I don’t want t’ feel like this but...” Your hips jerked against him despite yourself, body betraying.

“...I love you.”

He froze completely, body rigid and eyes blown wide, blood still dripping from his mouth down your neck.

Slowly, he lowered his bloody face to your neck, nuzzling into the crook of it like a man starved. His voice was hoarse, almost broken, whispering in your ear. “Say it again.”

His hips moved again, slow at first, then hard, dragging his thick cock deep inside you with every thrust.

“I hate you,” you gasped, voice cracked, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“I fuckin’ know,” he snarled against your throat, voice ragged, drunk on it, hips pounding harder. “Say the rest, say it t’ me.”

Your lips brushed his cheek as you panted, words falling out like confessions between sobs. “I love you.”

“Again,” he snarled, thrusting deeper, his cock splitting you open.

“I love you!” The rhythm became unbearable: your voice crying love into his ear, his hips fucking you harder with every repetition. He drowned in the words and the feel of your body until you both shattered, your third release tearing out of you in raw sobs, his cock pulsing, filling you with hot, thick seed for the second time.

Pinned beneath him, your chest heaving, hole still stretched around the thick length that refused to leave you. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, bloody lips dragging along your skin like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss or bite.

“I—” His whisper rasped, broken by a groan as his hips gave one more shuddering push inside you. “I love ye.”

He didn’t lift his head. His fangs grazed your skin, dangerous, always threatening. “Don’t doubt that.” His tone was rough, almost a snarl, but the tremor in it was real. “I ain’t sorry f’r wantin’ ye like this, but I’m sorry f’r losin’ the reins on m’self.”

The words were foreign in his mouth, stiff, but you felt the weight of them. “If anyone so much as breathes on yer peace, I’ll tear the marrow from their bones. No one’ll make yer life harder. I’ll see to that.”

His hips shifted slightly inside you, a reminder of the claim he spoke of. “I love ye,” he repeated, voice breaking into something close to a plea, though he bit the word as if it cut his tongue.

“Please, don’t leave me.” He forced the words out through clenched teeth, a growl stitched into them.

Through the canopy, streaks of pale light cut their way in, cold and unforgiving. Sunrays, faint at first, then spilling like rivers. You turned your head, body screaming with the effort and saw your house in the near distance. At the threshold, sprawled in the grass where the light touched, there was what was left of Caleb, skin blackened, curling like parchment with smoke that rose from his body as it cracked and broke apart.

When you turned back, Remmick was gone.

Time slipped after that. You weren’t sure if it was hours or only minutes when your legs finally obeyed you enough to stand. The walk back into the house was sluggish, your body shaking with each step. The air inside was suffocating with silence. Bandages, whatever scraps of cloth you could tear, were wrapped around your arms, shoulder, thighs, trembling fingers tugging them tight until the wounds stopped weeping. You sat there for hours, body folded over itself on the couch, head a storm of him.

The sun crawled overhead and, eventually, clouds bloomed heavy and dark across the sky, swallowing its light. The day dimmed into gray. You were staring through the window when one second only the absence of light, the next, he was there on your doorstep.

His eyes, blue now and impossibly soft, fixed on you. Hope swam in them, twisted with satisfaction.

Your legs betrayed you, stumbling, dragging you closer until you stood at the door.

“Still here.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, blood clinging to the split of his lip. “Still here,” he echoed, voice quiet. “Meant what I said.”

You watched, throat dry, as a line of drool slipped from his lip, dragging down his chin. His eyes darkened, the human blue drowned by the slow bleed of red.

The sunlight now began to peek through the retreating clouds.

Your gut twisted when you saw the faint curl of smoke from his shoulder where the light touched, the grimace twitching across his mouth though his eyes never left you.

He stayed, eyes locked on you in that sick, terrifying look of pure devotion. He smiled, almost tender, though smoke peeled from his skin.

Your chest clenched painfully. The longer you stared, the heavier the dread sank into you. He would die here, he knew it. Still, he didn’t look away.

The words fell out of you before you’d even made the choice. “...Come in.”

The barrier broke and he was on you, lips smashing into yours, hard and messy, still warm with the taste of your dried blood. You staggered back, your spine hitting the edge of the bed before your body gave way, mattress swallowing you whole.

Your bandages were nothing to him, claws peeling through them like paper, the fabric shredded and curling away as his mouth traveled lower, lips closing over the wounds he’d carved into you, greedy, tongue lapping with desperate fervor while healing from his wounds.

When he lifted his head, red eyes burning into yours, you knew you were ready for one hell of an eternity.

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unini · 4 days ago

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𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞)

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“Hey, I’m really glad you said yes,” Clark said, offering you a nervous smile as you both walked inside. He was dressed casually, in a way that made you wonder if he even knew how attractive he was. You’d never seen him this vulnerable before, his nerves showing in the way he fidgeted with his sleeves. You smiled back at him, trying to ease his nerves. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve been looking forward to it,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. You were nervous, too.

You both sat down, you could feel the weight of the silence hanging between you. It wasn’t awkward, but it was certainly new. You both reached for the menu, not quite making eye contact, but both of you sneaking glances in each other’s direction. After a few minutes, Clark finally broke the silence. “So, uh,” Clark starts, his voice soft and a little uncertain, “how was your day?” You chuckle, trying to break the ice. “It was fine. Nothing too exciting. How about yours? You had a busy day at the Planet?”

"Oh, you know," Clark chuckled softly, "nothing too exciting, just the usual news stuff." He looked down at his menu, and you could tell he was trying to find something to say. you both started talking more, the conversation flowed. He shared a few stories from work, some of which made you laugh out loud, and you told him a few of your own. The awkwardness began to melt away, and it felt like you were two people who had known each other for years.

Just as you were about to take a sip of water, Clark did the same, but a slight mishap caused a bit of water to splash onto his glasses. Without thinking, he quickly removed them to wipe them off. "Gosh," he muttered, glancing up at you, his face flushed. You watch him for a moment as he wipes them with the napkin. The way his face looks without the glasses is so different — sharper, somehow, his eyes a little clearer. For a second, you just stare, realizing you’ve never seen him quite like this before.

"You look different without your glasses," you said, your voice slipping out before you could stop yourself. You didn't even realize it was that obvious. Clark froze, then slowly looked up at you. There was a slight blush creeping up his neck, and he smiled shyly, slipping his glasses back on. "Yeah? Good different or bad different?" he asked, his voice teasing but uncertain, as though he wasn't entirely sure how to take your comment. You felt your heart race, your words tumbling out. "Good different, definitely good different."

He smiled a little wider, his expression softening. “Good to know,” he said quietly. He took a sip of his water again, but this time he was a bit more careful. His eyes stayed on you, like he was trying to figure something out. You both continued to talk after that, the conversation flowing more naturally as you shared stories and laughs. With every word, the nervousness between you two seemed to fade, and by the end of the night, the two of you were more at ease than you had ever imagined you'd be on a first date with Clark Kent.

It was like everything had suddenly fallen into place, and for the first time that night, you weren’t just two people on a date—you were two people connecting.

Taglist ~ @starboye @boypied @cronasluvr @magicstarbits @capsicleforever @loverclear @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @sluttyhusband @carnalcrows @amor-xoxo

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unini · 4 days ago

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put down that c.ai thing and read y/n fics like god intended.

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unini · 5 days ago

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૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა Intercourse 101 - Terushima Yuji x male reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Plot: Campus playboy Terushima is failing his classes, and the only thing that will help him pass is tutoring from the top student, popular rich-boy, you! But Yuji wants to earn his A*... and not through traditional methods - though this causes more trouble than either of you had expected - Angsty hurt/comfort incoming - Smut not featured but referenced

Featuring: Top!Terushima x Bottom!Reader

Note: Heavily inspired by 'Helluva Boss'! Specifically, the overarching fight and relationship dynamic between Blitzo & Stolas! But that's about it, it's set in the canon Haikyuu universe but obvs some changes. Terushima is probs OOC I'm SORRY ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI ~ hurt/comfort!!

Terushima was failing his classes. It didn't come as a surprise to anyone, let alone to himself; the man may be a playboy, a troublemaker, a whore, but he wasn't delusional. At the very least, he was self-aware. External tutors were useless, since the course content was specific to the university. He'd ask his fellow students to help him out, but half of the course already hated him, either from being screwed over by him or having friends who had been, and the other half were barely passing themselves. All roads led Terushima to the same answer. You.

Academics came to you naturally. Since you were young, you had been privately tutored, allowing you to pick up study tricks quickly. To say you were aceing your classes would be an understatement. Your smarts, along with your wits, good looks, and your wealth, resulted in you being one of the most popular guys in your course. It wasn't like everyone worshipped you like in high school movies, but it was rare that someone hadn't heard of you. Also, it wasn't like you were rude or mean; if someone were to approach you, you would usually end up friends with them. Terushima knew that you'd probably help him out, so he walked up to you one day with his usual confidence, expecting the conversation to go exactly his way. He was sorta right.

The second Terushima had approached you, the group you were talking to left you alone with him; literally every single person had some sort of bad blood with the Playboy, either themselves or by loyalty to their friends. You scoffed a chuckle when Terushima asked you to tutor him. It shook his confidence for a split second, though he put it back on almost immediately. "What? Are poor people not worth your time?" Terushima joked, trying to convince you "Nah, nothing like that~ It's just... what am I getting out of it? You see how people react to you. Wouldn't associating myself with you be more detrimental than beneficial?" You counter, a light-hearted smile on your lips "You want something in exchange? Oh babe, we could work that out~" Terushima says with a smirk, his body moving closer to yours. He was a natural flirt. And that was how your little 'relationship', or rather 'exchange', with Terushima began. Tutoring, for sex.

The first few months of this exchange went smoothly. Terushima would come over to your place; confident demeanour, hair done, all dressed up as per usual. You would tutor him, and then conversation would slowly spark up until tutoring was replaced by cheeky banter and (surprisingly) genuine discussions. Terushima would tease you about the fact that your parents bought you your own place for university, you would jokingly make digs at his man-whore reputation, Terushima would talk about his life goals, and you would talk about yours. Then, a light tension would infiltrate the conversation; prolonged glances, compliments, banter on the more flirtatious side, and quick glimpses at your lips. Eventually and inevitably, the two of you would end up sleeping together. It didn't matter where or in what position, it would always happen. Either Terushima would be holding you down beneath him on your bedroom floor, or you would be sitting in his lap, making out on your bed.

The details get fuzzy. What's important is that you seriously enjoyed it. And so did Terushima. He liked how you moaned his name. He liked how you'd mark his body with your bite marks, hickeys, and scratches. Terushima loved the way you looked too; how your eyes would either roll to the back of your head in pleasure or look at him with a cock-drunk haze over them, how your body fit with his like a jigsaw, and he couldn't get enough of how your face would flush and how some of your hair will stick to your forehead in the throws of pleasure. On the other hand, you loved the way that Terushima made your back arch in pleasure. You could tell he had experience in this field from the way he would work his fingers and tongue inside of you, and from how skilfully he would tease you during foreplay. You loved the way that he looked above you, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself up as his muscular hips thrust into you. Oh, and his muscles really did it for you; you couldn't deny how fucking attractive Terushima is.

All in all, you both really benefited from this exchange. Terushima's grades had skyrocketed; the man went from literally failing every single exam to getting B's and even some A's. You were getting your world rocked every other night, and Terushima had a consistent fuck-buddy; alleviating the need to get with new people every so often just for sex. By the time a whole year had passed, you and Yuji had really settled into this 'relationship'. So much so, that you two would hang out on campus and even go to parties together. You enjoyed it, and so did he. You didn't realise what that meant until it was too late...

Terushima had noticed the small shifts in your relationship. How you'd call him 'Yuji' rather than the formal 'Terushima'. How your banter with him evolved into that of close friends. How your mood would sour ever so slightly when Terushima would bring up past lovers. The playboy ignored it, though. What you two had was good, it was going well. The last thing Terushima wanted was to complicate things with a relationship. You had other plans, though. You'd noticed these changes too. You knew that it was so fucking stupid of you to catch feelings for one of the most infamous man-whores at your university. But you couldn't help but overthink the way Yuji looked at you. The way he would affectionately rub your cheek with his thumb and kiss you. The way he would continue his praises and compliments way after you two had finished. And you hated the fact that this whole relationship only existed because Terushima was getting tutoring out of it... You didn't want him to have sex with you just because he needed to pass his classes. You wanted Terushima to make love to you because that's what he wanted to do! Because he likes you!

That being said, you were known for having a good head on your shoulders; you weren't gonna let some stupid love hormones shut your brain off. You knew that a lovey-dovey confession would actually ruin everything you had with Terushima. So, you decided to give him an out and see what he does. During a tutoring session, you stopped Terushima as he was leaning in for a kiss. "We don't need to do that today, haha..." You say, trying to keep your tone even and light "Huh? C'mon, babe y'know you want it~" Yuji's confidence faltered for a moment, replaced by confusion. Though that was also quickly replaced by his flirtatious demeanour. "Yuji, I'm being for real. We don't have to do all that just so you can pass your class" You rephrase, with a more serious tone this time. "What d'you mean by that, [name]?" Doubts were starting to creep in. Did he fuck it up again? Why do things always have to get so fucking complicated? "Here" You handed Yuji a full binder. "It's all of my notes from the start of uni up to now, as well as all of my study tips. This way, you can study by yourself. You wont be dependent on me to pass your classes." You explain, a sorta sad smile on your face.

Yuji had gone silent for a moment. His mouth slightly agape as he looked at the binder in his hands. "...am I not good enough orr? I can try harder. Just lemme know what you want and I'll do it! There's no need to call everything off-" Yuji proposes, trying to find the reason behind your abrupt ending of your exchange. "It's not that-" "Then what? C'mon [name], studying's fun with you..! Let's just fuck and forget about this. You can tutor me tomorrow instead!" Yuji exclaims, his tone starting to sound a little exasperated and desperate. It was almost as if he were begging you to continue your little exchange. Begging you to let him fuck you. "You don't get it, Yuji. I don't want you to fuck me because you have to in order to get good grades! I want us to have sex because we both want and enjoy it!" You almost shout, your tone now matching Yuji's in desperation. You felt like you were begging him. It felt gross. But you had to have this conversation at one point on another. "Ha!~ If that's what you want, we can work that out. I can say 'I love you' in bed if that turns you on~" Yuji tried to make sense of everything whilst still denying the idea that you'd want a relationship. But that was the worst thing he possibly could have said in that moment.

"Oh... There's my answer then... Good luck with your exams, I'll see you 'round." You try to keep it together. You were technically just rejected; your crush had just proposed faking being in love with you in bed instead of being your boyfriend. "Wait! You're being serious?! What the fuck?" It finally seemed to click within Terushima's head that you were proposing an end to this exchange but not an end to your relationship. "I have my answer. The fact that you think I couldn't catch these feelings and that this whole thing is just about sex after all this time... That's enough for me to know what this is..!" You explain as you walk up to your door, trying to guide Terushima out of your place. "What!? Fuck you, [name]! You spring all this 'feelings' bullshit on me! Don't gimme a second to think after all the shit I've put up with..! You pompous, rich, asshole-" Terushima's tone was clearly one of frustration and anger, though it was riddled with insecurity. He'd started to tear up at this point, though only slightly, having basically trained himself to never cry in front of people. You stayed silent, completely turning your back to Terushima and biting your lips together also to not spill any tears in front of Terushima, 'cause that was the last thing you needed right now. "-Treat me like I'm one of your suck-up friends... You can't just dismiss me by throwing money at me! Or- Or by offering me something in exchange for me to shut up just 'cause you have the money and status to! I'm not gonna fucking let you!" Terushima was clearly expressing his frustration through his words and aggressive body language, but all it did was come off as immature and hurtful.

Sniffles could be heard. Softly breaking the silence after Terushima's tantrum. "...I think so highly of you now that I've gotten to know you, Terushima-" It slightly jarred the man to hear you calling him by his last name when you hadn't done that in months. "-I didn't realise you thought so damn low about me..." you continue, voice trembling. Terushima's scowl softened to a look of shock and regret when you turned around to face him; the sadness in your eyes and the tears gently streaming down your face tugged at Yuji's heartstrings. But it was the fact that you were clearly trying so hard (and succeeding pretty well) at keeping your composure that jarred the man. "[name], wait-!" Terushima was in the middle of talking as you pushed him out of your apartment and shut the door in his face. Terushima stood there for a moment. Processing everything. And as he was walking out of your complex, he yelled out in frustration a simple 'what.... the FUCK'.

That definitely could have gone better. But at the very least, you don't have to settle for an 'exchange' over a real, loving relationship.

The next day was just as hectic as the night before. Terushima had been messaging you all day as if everything was normal, sending you friendly memes and funny TikToks. You held your ground, though, and didn't respond at all. So, Terushima thought it would be a good idea to show up at your place again. You cursed yourself mentally for not looking through the peephole and just opening the front door, 'cause the moment you opened that door, Terushima pushed past and into your apartment.

"Heyyy~ You haven't been answering your phone all day, and I sent you a bunch of funny shit, so what gives?" Terushima got straight into it. He may have been trying to act like nothing happened over text, but he knew that if he didn't bring it up, you would have. "I assumed my lack of 'EL-OH-EL's and likes would make you understand that I don't wanna talk right now" You responded plainly, though your tone was quite pointed. "Oh c'mon [name], we just had a rough night. Besides-" Terushima gently grabs your chin and pulls your attention to him, having noticed you blatantly trying to do anything but look at the man. You gave him the attention, but swiped his hand away from his face almost instinctually. "-you always seem to wanna hear from me~" He flirts. Softly cornering you against your couch in a slightly suggestive manner. You sighed in response. Lying down on the couch in a dismissive and nonchalant manner. "What d'ya want, Terushima?" you sounded so bored and so tired of him. "I wanna feel like I've eaaaarned my A's - not that I studied for 'em! So get your perfect ass off your couch and on your bed so that I can fuck it!" He always did that. He would always say 'perfect ass' but always in a literal sense; calling your butt perfect and not you as a person 'perfect'. It's funny now, thinking back on it, how you'd always overthink that he was flirting with you, when in reality, he was just horny. "Wooooow. Poetry. I'm sure that woulda had me swooning by now" You retort, still sounding so tired of Terushima's shit as you get off of your couch and walk past the man-slag and to your door again.

"Okay fine, [name], that probably wasn't the best way to say it but you usually like it when I talk all dirty n shit...!" He sounds ever so slightly apologetic, though more like he's blaming you for the way you're reacting. You stop in your tracks, not yet at your door, and give him a 'seriously?' look. "C'mon babe... We don't do words. We do sex." He says it like it's a fact. Like he's confused on how you don't get it. "As shocking as it might seem, Terushima, I don't think I'mm really in the mood to 'do sex' with you-" you start, mocking his use of words. "-I'm actually not even in the mood to do words with you at the moment. So can you just fucking respect that?" "Oh c'mon [name], you can't really mean that..! You always love seein' me~" Terushima tries to flirt again, his voice low like he knows you like it. "I don't wanna see you right now, Terushima. What part of that don't you get? I already feel like shit and seeing you makes me feel fucking worse..! I'm starting to see why all your ex's talk shit about you now." You try to level with the man, but he wouldn't... couldn't give up yet. "Oh please, everyone ends up hating me for dumbass reasons. When really, they're just bitter that they couldn't tie my sexy ass down." Terushima retorts so matter-of-factly. So blindly confident, and so in denial about his own flaws and insecurities. "You really think that's why?" Your tone shifts, from completely tired of his shit, to mostly tired but now slightly argumentative. "'course~ They couldn't handle that I moved on!" His tone was much more casual now, almost as if he thought the two of you were back to normal already. "Oh cool, so you're used to crushing other people's feelings? Probably shoulda known..." You ask rhetorically. "If by 'crushing other people's feelings' you mean ending shit before it gets serious then yeah! I'm fuckin' doin' everyone a favour. Relationships are boring!" His tone isn't argmentative, but rather passionate; defensive.

You're silent for a split second before you reply with that million-dollar wit. "Oh yeah, relationships are soooo boring... Pray tell what you're doin' here then?~" You ask with a knowing smirk. You think it's funny, really. All his talk against relationships, but Terushima's the one who came here on his own accord. "Uh I- Waitin' for you to realise how good an angry fuck would be right now!" Yuji's tone turned angry again. You touched a nerve, enough for the nonchalant playboy to stutter. You sigh and roll your eyes towards the door, which you were now next to "Get out." "What..?!" Yuji was genuinely confused at how you can just dismiss someone you're supposed to 'be in love with. "I'm tired of this shit. I'm uncomfortable with the way you're speaking to me now." You stand your ground, not giving Yuji an inch. "Oh c'mon, [name]. You can't tell me this isn't some fantasy of yours! You want me to show your rich, pillow prince-y ass what a good fuckin' is!" Terushima says as he pulls your hips into his by your belt hoop. Still trying to go back to his comfort zone; flirting. "Ugh! Just stop already..!" You shout, sounding grossed out by Yuji. And your face shows it. "Hah! I'm right, aren't I?! You get off on getting plowed by people you look down on!" Yuji keeps going. Somehow trying to get you back, whilst his bruised ego forces him to bite back with insults. "What is your obsession with pigeonholing me as this guy who looks down on everyone! When have I ever?!" He touched a nerve. You gave in, you argued back.

"When- HAHA!? You do it constantly! You couldn't even hold your tongue around my guys!" Yuji reaches for something that happened ages ago. He was desperate for something to argue back with. You know exactly what he's going on about. The first time you met his friends, you accidentally made a joke that would have been fine around your own friends, but you could see how it made you seem like a spoiled, rich brat. It was a cheap blow from him; a minuscule moment in your long 'relationship'. "Oh, of course you bring that up! But you'll get defensive if I mention that you didn't exactly jump to my defence when all your 'guys' started berating me after that one misplaced joke!" You argued back, fully set allight by Yuji's trip down memory lane. "I thought you could fuckin' handle it! You tutor me for fucks sake, thought you were witty enough to hold your own!" Terushima argues back. "Oh. I suppose you're right! Silly me! It's not some dumb lowlife's place to jump to the defence of aristocracy." It was a super low blow, but you didn't mean it. You were sarcastically playing into the character that Terushima thought you as. "aaaaaand there it is! Took ya long enough!" Terushima said with a smug smirk on his face at the fact that you acted exactly as he expected. "DITTO TO YOU! That's all you were waiting for! For me to play into this idea you have of me- that I'm some rich boy who thinks he' so much better than you. Well, I don't!" You retort. Frustration and exasperation are blatant in your voice as you continue, "Why would I let everyone see how I'm literally wrapped around your finger if I thought I was so above you!?" His arguments contradicted the blatant evidence. You'd had enough.

"God, you sound so sappy 'n gay!" Clearly, Yuji had run out of counterarguments. "Do you even feel a little sorry about how you've gone about things?" You ask, trying to see a glimpse of the Yuji that made you fall so hard. "What?! You want me to apologise for hurting your feelings? For being incapable of settling down?" Terushima was also getting exasperated. He was literally struggling to understand how he'd upset you to this extent. "No- But- Yes! At least for the first part! You owe that apology to like a hundred people!" You explain with frustrated arm gestures. "Fuck you. Y'know what, I'll apologise. I'll go see allll my exes and apologise real good. But the one person who won't be gettin' an apology is you."

And apologise he did. If by apologise you mean fucking other people! Or rather, Yuji tried to fuck other people. He started with his exes. Most of them told him to 'fuck off', but the few that took him up on the offer didn't do it for him. He'd thought that it was because he'd already had them, he thought he needed something fresh. But when Terushima hopped on a dating app and hooked up with some guys and girls, he had to come to terms with the fact that it just wasn't the same as when he was with you. Because, even though Terushima didn't want to admit it, he probably enjoyed your exchange more than you. The man loved every second he spent with you. He'd catch himself thinking of you throughout the day, and not even having sex, just thinking of how hot you were, how sweet, how funny. That's not to say that the sex wasn't anything to rave about, 'cause it most certainly was! Terushima hadn't had such good sex in a while! It was like you two were made for each other; you had great chemistry and knew each other's triggers like the back of your hand. It got to the point that Yuji had to think about you to finish during his late-night trips to girls' houses, or he'd specifically look for guys that looked like you! After those couple of times, Yuji was kinda forced to come to terms with the fact that he liked you; quite big for someone who despises relationships. Coming to terms with his feelings prompted Yuji to open up your text thread and type out an apology; he realised he needed you back in his life. He hated the fact that you were actually angry with him. But he couldn't send the text. This was Terushima Yuji after all. His ego wouldn't let him.

However, Yuji knew he needed to change. He actually tried to apologise to some people! He'd messaged friends that he'd been a dick to and some random one-off people who didn't like him for their own reasons, but the main recipients of Terushima's apologies were his exes (of course). Over the course of a week, Yuji had apologised to 63 people. And every three or so apologies, he would type out another message to you; only to keep deleting them. He wanted to prove to you that he'd changed, that he was apologising, and that he was deserving of your forgiveness (and also maybe your love). But Yuji also felt that it would seem insincere unless he'd finished his 'apology tour' before messaging you. It had been almost a month since your 'relationship' with Terushima imploded. The world didn't stop moving because you had a bad day (or month); university lectures were still happening, and people were still throwing parties and going out clubbing. You had had enough of wallowing in self-pity, so you got yourself dolled up and went to a house party with your friends.

It probably wasn't the best idea to get absolutely sloshed so quickly after a heartbreak, 'cause not even two hours into the night, you were slurring your words and shit talking Terushima to your friends. You didn't expect your constant smack talk to literally manifest Terushima, but lo and behold, the heartbreaker had walked into the house party whilst you were mid-sentence criticising his skills in bed (lying through your teeth). The second Yuji walked through that door, he spotted you, like he had a sixth sense for finding you, for noticing you. He couldn't help himself. Terushima's legs were on autopilot. He was walking straight over to you. "Ughhhh here 'e comess..." you slur as you roll your eyes. Your friends giggle with you and walk past the man. As you go to do the same, Terushima makes a comment. "Never seen you throw it back like this..." he mumbles. He meant it with concern, not to scrutinise you. "Came 'ere to judge me or wha'?" You ask as you turn around, stumbling slightly from the quick movement but regaining your composure swiftly. "Nah... Last stop on my apology tour" Terushima tries to joke. Tries to re-establish that rapport you two had. "Ohhh yeahhhh I remember! Everyone's been gettin' your cheap apologies except me! 've heard." It was kinda impossible for you not to get wind of Terushima correcting his wrongdoings; half of your course was terrified he was plotting something!

"Look... how I acted couple weeks ago was fucked" Yuji starts, sitting down on a nearby couch and pulling you down by your wrist, sitting you down next to him. "Weeks ago..? Oh fuck why'd you even show up thennn~ why'd you show up hereeee~" You whine, clearly very drunk as you pull your wrist away from him, but stumble and fall on his lap. Due to your clear intoxication, your body relied on instinct and muscle memory; your arms wrapping around Terushima's neck and your head resting against his. Out of similar reflexes, Yuji's hand quickly went to cradle you, holding you close to him. "Look, I came here to- to talk to you. I really need to like.. explain-" Yuji started, but you quickly interrupted him. "Oh? Explain yourself again? Give me another excuse?" It was crazy how sober you sounded all of a sudden, sitting up straight to get your point across. "I've always been shit at apologies, okay? They're for pussies and I never think anyone deserves 'em. But this time, I think you actually need one." Yuji felt the need to defend himself. Though he quickly redirected to explaining himself rather than being overly defensive. "Ohhhhhh lucky me!" You shout, exasperated. Though with how loud the music was at this party, it was heard by no one other than Yuji. Your body language mimicked your irritation; your limbs flailing and your drunk, off-balance body starting to quickly fall off of Terushima. He caught you, of course. His arms wrapping around you like a jigsaw fitting together; even so, you quickly push him off of you and stand up, going to walk away.

Terushima caught your wrist again, pulling you gently; though, with how drunk you were, the small amount of force was enough to throw you off balance and land you on an adjacent couch. You just accepted it, lying on your stomach and crossing your arms to rest on top of the armrest; your head resting on your arms and not looking up at Yuji. "Shit- look. What I mean is, I've said sorry a lot recently and if I'm honest, I didn't mean like half of 'em. 'Cause the only person I really wanted to say it to... was you, [name]." That made you look up at him. It wasn't quick and out of shock, more like it piqued your interest, so you slowly shifted your head so that you could bring your eyes over to the man who broke your heart. You gave him a chance, listening as Terushima continued. "I just..." He sighs. "this whole thing we had going- I- I mean you're like fucking royalty..! How could you actually care or fall for some dumb, poverty-line student whose only redeeming quality is his looks?" Terushima tries to explain himself, really laying out all of his insecurities. "Why would that affect anything? You know me! Just 'cause my parents try to buy my love with money doesn't mean I can't love like everyone else... I want to experience love, Teru'..." You also try to level with the man, though you can already feel tears pricking the sides of your eyes. The alcohol really wasn't helping with you trying to keep your cool. "fucks sake... just fuck off Terushima. it's bad enough you made me feel like this, you shouldn't get to see me cry over you too..." You mumble as you wipe your tears. Terushima watches as you pull yourself together too perfectly, wiping your tears and seemingly sobering up within seconds; that moment alone reminded Yuji of the many times you'd seemed fine but probably weren't. Damn, you really knew how to make him feel like a dick.

Just as Yuji opened his mouth to keep apologising, someone interrupted him. "Hey, you're [name], right?" It was a tall man; looked around your age, and had a muscular build. You didn't know him, and neither did Yuji. Either way, you look up into the handsome guy's eyes and nod. "I've seen you 'round but haven't really had the balls to talk t'you.. Wanna go for a dance?" Guess your argument with Terushima was kept well confined, 'cause that guy was very unaware that this was a poor time to shoot his shot. "Uhh we're in the middle of somet-" Terushima starts, but you interupt him. "Yeah sure..!" You take the guy's hand and stand up off the couch, and as you leave for the dance floor, you turn to Yuji slightly and tell him a simple 'goodbye'.

As you dance with the man, Terushima watches from that same couch. He didn't notice when a friend of yours sat down next to him, but at one point or another, he got to talking with her. He didn't really know her, and after that interaction with you, Yuji felt like he should just drop the cool-guy act for at least a moment and vent to someone. Your friend listened; she was one of the few to whom you talked about Yuji, so she knew the whole situation and wanted to hear the man out. He talked about how he was actually pretty insecure, how he felt like his only quality was his looks and that they could only last so long. Yuji also talked about how he hates complicating things by using labels, but that only stems from shitty relationships in the past. He says he'd rather be the first to leave than be the one to get left. He also says that he doesn't blame you for how you're reacting; 'cause if he were in your shoes, he would be the exact same. Though after all of that progress, Terushima did revert to his more defensive, easily-provoked self when he saw you making out with that guy on the dance floor; shouting something along the lines of 'THAT MAN-STEALING MOTHER FUCKER'. But your friend was quick to jump in "If you wanna move past this, you have to completely understand where [name] is coming from, just start by saying 'hope he gets laid, he deserves it' or something".

And that he did. Terushima forced himself to stop feeling entitled to you, to your time and commitment. After he rejected you, he lost that right. Yuji started by giving you space for a week or so and then texting you one last apology. And the gods must have been on Yuji's side that day, 'cause you actually accepted his apology. You'd deemed that it felt sincere enough, and you did feel like you had overreacted a tad to him at the party. So, you offered Yuji a fresh start "How about I tutor you again on Sunday. Free of charge lol". That text made Yuji's heart skip a beat. Of course, he accepted. And though the tutoring session had gone fine (all be it, a little awkward), Terushima physically couldn't ignore the feelings he felt for you. Oh, how the tables turned. By the third session, Yuji was doing everything in his power to put tutoring on the back burner and just chat with you. By the fifth session, he told you he needed to have a serious talk...

"I have feelings for you." Well, that was abrupt. "I... don't usually do this. You know how I am with relationships... But I can't stop thinking about you..! It killed me when you were mad at me and when we stopped spending time together. I literally find myself fantasising about dating you! I've never done that! I.. really like our friendship, but I don't think I can keep going like this. Trying, and failing, to ignore the obvious feelings I have for you" It was shockingly heartfelt. So much so that it left you speechless and a little flushed. Unfortunately, Terushima took your silence as a rejection. He fought his instincts to get defensive and back down. Terushima stood his ground and waited for your answer. "I... obviously I still like you, dumbass... Did you see how whipped I was for you? I couldn't of gotten over you that quickly, Yuji." The smile on his face was enormous.

Yo Yo Yo! This is finally out lol - took me enough time! Teased it too early but hey ho! Hope you enjoy! I actually really fucks with this lol

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unini · 5 days ago

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i did this quickly cus it is funny hehe

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unini · 5 days ago

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alfa!Rafe Cameron x Male Reader!ômega

~ "De troco, pau e soco"

★. Série: Outer Banks

★. Sinopse: as coisas seriam mais simples se você abaixasse a cabeça e agisse como um bom ômega de décadas atrás, mas você sempre o confronta, e ele devolve com vantagem. Os dois saem um pouco mais fracos toda vez.

🚨Avisos/tags: NSFW, universo abo, sexo bruto, sexo desprotegido, violência, sangue, ingestão de sangue, briga, linguajar grosseiro, meio sombrio e Rafe sendo um filho da puta de marca maior.

★. Palavras: 3.8k

2° pessoa - passado/presente

Você é fodido enquanto sangue vaza do seu nariz.

O balanço do corpo apressa a linha que desce.

A boca de Rafe acumula sangue enquanto ele te fode.

O bufar expele o excesso para além dos lábios.

E o gatilho que disparou a bestialidade de hoje, foi um amargo episódio de ontem...

Você aproveitava o frescor do domingo na varanda de casa, mergulhando nas últimas sete páginas do romance água com açúcar que procrastinara tanto para terminar. Mas teve o foco roubado por um cheiro ardido que irrompeu de repente, dominando o espaço e fazendo seu nariz pinicar.

Uma silhueta familiar se aproximava, com passos de bigorna e o pescoço curvado.

Era JJ atravessando o quintal, seu maninho.

Ele sentou em cima da mesa, bem onde você apoiava o livro, propositalmente próximo demais, obrigando-o a retirar a sexta arte dali para dar espaço ao traseiro folgado.

A essência que JJ rotineiramente exalava assemelhava-se ao aroma cítrico de uma laranja; naquele momento, era como se o ácido da fruta acumulasse forças no alto, carcomendo-a do topo ao centro.

No céu de madeira velha, uma lâmpada amarela brincava de sol, iluminando os hematomas marcados no rosto e o roxo vivo circulando um dos olhos do alfa.

Você foi tomado por preocupação e, após segundos assimilando, por raiva. Mas reprimiu o sentimento, pois sabia que era pela falta de serenidade que seu irmão viera tão invasivo a seu encontro.

Você agasalhou as costas da mão dele com a palma quentinha da sua, permitindo que seus feromônios pairassem para amaciar os nervos. — O que aconteceu? — esperava por um tom desagradável na resposta; via-se esmagando os dedos de JJ caso ele o fizesse encolher na cadeira.

Entretanto, apesar de permanecer bicudo, a voz do loiro entrou mansa nos ouvidos. — O nojentinho do seu namorado Kook aconteceu, pra surpresa de zero pessoas.

— Eu não namoro aquele traste! — negou de supetão.

Vocês treparam em uma festa uma vez, dentro de uma jacuzzi, e, desde então, Rafe se tornou uma cadela louca por você. Fora uma sexta borrada. Você não estava sóbrio, e Rafe também não - era o que ele dizia -, mas das três fodas e do boquete que vieram depois, vocês recordariam até caducar.

Enquanto tratava dos roxos e vermelhos do garoto azedo, você ponderava sobre faltar no trabalho amanhã.

Afinal, cuidava do jardim da família Cameron. Trocar qualquer tipo de interação com o cara que agredira seu irmão era o mesmo que pedir demissão - e talvez um processo.

Você estava possuído.

Ainda assim, seus pés pousaram nas terras douradas pela manhã.

Até metade do dia, conseguiu evitar a tormenta. Podou os arbustos dos fundos quando Rafe surgiu na entrada; dava meia-volta para afogar as plantas que decoravam o hall sempre que ele brotava nos fundos. Às vezes, adiantava as pausas entre os afazeres, fingindo uma sede insaciável e se entupindo de água, antevendo o xixi como mais uma desculpa para evaporar, caso o execrável decidisse transitar no mesmo espaço que você.

O dia parecia um texto prolixo que não chegava ao ponto; te lembrava do livro que aturou durante meses para chegar a um final tão brocha quanto o início e o meio.

Você se perguntava se ele não tinha um rolê para se acabar, um daqueles encontros de gente burguesa para ir ou uma carreira de pó para cheirar.

A real era que, quando tinha o seu açúcar pesando na balança, passava a ser você e fio da meada. Seu cheiro virava um braço extenso e rosa-chiclete, culminando num punho rente ao rosto de Rafe, que o atraía com um indicador sedutor.

Ele levaria a tempestade até você.

A piscina era o passo final. Você esperava, no máximo, ter que juntar algumas folhas com a rede - o trato nela era constante - e, pisando no chão quente de pedra que cercava a fundura, não testemunhou nenhuma surpresa sobre a água.

Mas, fora dela, repousava Rafe em uma espreguiçadeira.

Ele usava óculos escuros, podendo encarar o céu radiante. Suor acumulava abaixo do nariz e grudava os fios castanhos na testa. Do lado, um copo de limonada ao sol que, por milagre, não borbulhava. Os lábios dele, entreabertos, disparavam arfares pesados.

Seus pés travaram de imediato, o tronco avançando um pouco mais antes de também petrificar.

A visão era ampla. Foi uma missão impossível deixar de reparar na mão que se arrastava sobre o abdômen exposto, lenta e levemente, enquanto a segunda se perdia no poliéster, subindo e descendo sob o tecido preto, logo ali, do outro lado da piscina.

As pernas de Rafe estavam afastadas, com os pés firmes no chão, um de cada lado da espreguiçadeira. Ele ondulava os quadris para cima, um tanto fora de ritmo com a palma veloz. O cordão branco da única peça vestida, desamarrado, escorria para os lados, diluindo-se nas listras laterais da bermuda. Na segunda camada, a mão e o pau tinham veias salientes tensionadas, e o pano fino brilhava tanto quanto a pele suada, incapaz de conter o que a protuberância liberava.

Ao ar livre, desprotegido de qualquer olhar desavisado, Rafe se masturbava.

Você sentiu o cheiro da excitação do alfa de longe.

Amêndoas.

E desconfiou, obviamente. Aquele cheiro já estivera impregnado em suas roupas, afinal.

Era sedutor; te chamava.

De jeito nenhum você era um desavisado!

Rafe sorriu, e não foi para o sol que tanto observava; os lábios rosados se esticaram para você.

E bastou aquilo para que seus dentes colidissem e a raiva se acumulasse nos punhos cerrados. Para não espairecer na mandíbula do Cameron, você girou os calcanhares.

Não voltando, mas, sim, fugindo.

Pois Rafe o perseguia.

Os passos dele eram lentos, opostos ao seu caminhar apressado. — O que foi, lobinho? Tá me evitando por quê? — a voz vinha pelas costas, exalando presunção.

O apelido cantarolado era excruciante aos ouvidos e provocava ainda mais seus tremores. — Não fala comigo! — na finaleira, a frase se distorceu em um rosnado.

Rafe riu da sua zanga, sem captar a potência destrutiva à frente. Ele apostava baixo no fogaréu que emanava de você e se divertia enquanto podia. — Eu até gosto dessa brincadeira de perseguir e tal, mas você tá fugindo de mim o dia todo... — a presença do alfa elevou-se na retaguarda, tomando o cenário verde atrás. — Paciência tem limite, ainda mais se o cara estiver com o pau torando dentro da calça. — apertou o passo, perseguindo-o a pés descalços, amassando a grama até você com vontade de morder.

A pressa dele influenciou a sua, que da raiva nasceu e, do instinto, passou a ser criada.

Avistando o galpão do jardim entre a folhagem baixa, você mal pensou antes de correr até lá. Mas a vantagem de estar na frente não adiantou muito, tendo em conta que, ao chegar à zona de esperança, só houve tempo de abrir as portas e se pôr lá dentro. Assim que foi fechá-las, a palma pesada de Rafe bateu contra a madeira.

A partir dali, não havia insistência, força ou oração que o impedisse de entrar.

Ele dedicou o mínimo de si ao empurrar, e foi o suficiente para ir contra as suas vontades. Rafe ocupou o pequeno espaço junto a você, fechou a saída e permaneceu em frente a ela, sendo a muralha viva que frustrava as tentativas de fuga ensaiadas na sua cabeça.

O Cameron abriu a boca, mas o que ele pretendia dizer nunca foi expresso.

Porque você o calou com o punho.

Encará-lo plenamente era o limite que você tanto evitou ultrapassar durante o dia; não conseguir culminou em você silenciar os próprios instintos e avançar sem desviar os mirantes, acertando a mandíbula do alfa com um nível de violência que nunca direcionou a ninguém e que até duvidava cultivar dentro de si.

Por ainda estar embalado na aura odiosa, não foi capaz de reagir, de se surpreender com a própria atitude.

Diferente de Rafe, que, após o impacto, pendeu o rosto para o lado e, com o rosto pendido, ficou.

A força do golpe o fez voltar meio passo, tocando a área atingida. Ardência emergiu de dentro e encheu rapidamente as bochechas. Rafe cuspiu algo mais denso e líquido do que saliva naquele chão.

Para ele, era difícil crer que alguém com punhos tão pequenos o tivesse feito sangrar. A face virava uma nebulosa estupefata, encarando uma estrela vermelha na areia.

— Você… — Rafe lambeu o indicador e o médio, umedecendo-os na língua sangrenta. — Com esses pulsos finos… — voltou a te encarar, os olhos azuis mais frios do que antes. — Foi capaz de fazer isso comigo? — posicionou os dedos sujos de sangue ao lado da ruptura e sorriu, os lábios esticados para o lado machucado do rosto e um filete vermelho escorrendo do canto da boca. — Você é mesmo uma caixinha de surpresas… pena que nem todas são boas; na real, a maioria é bem ruim. — te gravou de baixo para cima, achando fofa a sua bravura, mas, ao mesmo tempo, cansado de lidar com ela.

Os feromônios se espalharam. Você reconhecia a solidez da excitação do alfa, intransparente naquele momento; marcava na bermuda, sem cueca para pacificar.

Você tinha certeza de que Rafe ficou mais duro após o soco.

Assim como você ficou molhado depois de dá-lo.

Seguida da explosão bruta, veio a percepção de que o cara à sua frente não havia expelido apenas sangue... Uma espiadinha ligeira serviu aos seus olhos a mancha de pré-sêmen acumulando-se onde a ponta do pau esticava o tecido, pouco acima do meio das coxas.

O alfa molhava a frente da bermuda, já você, molhava a frente e a traseira do short que vestia. Por sorte, seu blusão cobria as manchas, e a lubrificação não vazava tanto a ponto de escorrer pelas coxas. Os inibidores - que você nunca esquecia de tomar antes de frequentar a residência dos Cameron - também ajudavam no controle dos feromônios.

Você ergueu a cabeça, observando o dano que causara ao rosto esbelto. "Ele fica bonito machucado", pensou "devia apanhar mais".

Acima do seu feito, havia um corte na sobrancelha de Rafe; você se lembrou de JJ lhe narrando a porradaria de domingo, e isso te fez sentir o chão sob os pés. — Fica longe do meu irmão. — deu um passo à frente, mas parou antes do segundo, senão escorreria. — Se eu souber que você o machucou, juro que faço isso aí na sua cara parecer um carinho. — era uma ameaça que você não sabia como cumpriria, mas que garantia a tentativa.

Rafe franziu as sobrancelhas, ignorando o ardor da ferida. — Pera… é por isso que cê tá tão esquivo hoje? — levou dois dedos acima do nariz, beliscando a pele no espaço entre os olhos. — O merdinha não aturou a surra e ainda precisa que um ômega o defenda? Que deprimente. E ele ousa se considerar um alfa? Porra...

JJ era orgulhoso, ele nunca te pediria para assumir uma rixa que não fosse sua. Você era apenas um irmão preocupado.

O alfa cruzou os braços, rindo baixinho do próprio pensamento antes de externalizá-lo. — Ele te usou pra descarregar, né? Foi gozada dentro ou fora? — largou ao vento e fixou os olhos em você, entretido. — Espero que fora. Seria um puta desperdício um ômega tão bonito dar à luz a uma ninhada de bizarrinhos deformados. Já assistiu Pânico na Floresta?

Seu olhar mergulhou nas íris claras.

Não tinha como digerir.

Os punhos cerraram, os músculos tencionaram e o sangue esquentou. — Para de falar merda! — rosnou enquanto sentia a ânsia escalar a garganta.

Por motivos diferentes, você queria rasgar seu estômago e o de Rafe com os dedos.

— Cadê o senso de humor, lobinho? Tô brincando! — ele estava com a cabeça levemente inclinada, e os olhos pareciam travados no tempo. Era um semblante arrogante na superfície que, para quem encarava, tornava-se um malévolo inquietante. — Mas eu não julgaria, sabe… se eu tivesse um irmão gostoso como você, acho que não resistiria à tentação.

Você recuou a passos duros conforme Rafe se aproximava serenamente. Nesses segundos arrastados, pensou no porquê de não ceder ao baixo nível, e não encontrou motivos. Já não mais exalava do mesmo doce, nem com a influência amendoada do alfa tiranizando no galpão.

Rafe encaminhou a palma rumo à sua bochecha para acariciar, mas você deu um tapa estalado nela antes que pousasse. — Você tem uma irmã gostosa. Já pensou em foder ela? — um sorriso quase lhe escapou quando Rafe travou no lugar. — No cu dos outros é refresco, né? Babaca!

O Cameron vacilou, com o olhar disperso e o lábio inferior contido atrás dos dentes. "Touché" mentalizou. — Não sou como você, Pogue. Eu não dou brecha. — tentava equilibrar-se na mesma postura, mas você sabia que o atingira, e, para ele, isso era mais doído que o soco de minutos atrás. — A Sarah é uma vadia; ela com certeza já ouviu esse tipo de coisa. Só seria um problema se chegasse até mim, aí eu teria que defender o nome da família quebrando alguns dentes.

Ele estava pedindo.

E você estava disposto a dar.

Sua mão, com a palma aberta daquela vez, voou na mesma direção, para acertar o mesmo lado, cutucar e piorar a divisão.

Mas ela parou a centímetros do rasgo.

Rafe segurou seu pulso, rodeando-o até que os dedos se encontrassem e formassem um segundo andar com as pontas. — Eu planejava ser carinhoso… mas se você prefere brincar assim, por mim, tudo bem. — começou a apertar, sentindo o contorno dos ossos abaixo das camadas macias.

Você engoliu um chiado de desconforto, puxando o braço num movimento que também jogava seu corpo para trás.

A insistência só piorava a dor do aperto - qual seria a cor da marca? - mas, para sua surpresa, se viu livre dele. Rafe o largou, e suas costas, por pouco, não bateram contra a parede.

Ao encará-lo, não teve tempo de formular um xingamento para cuspir, pois viu o punho do alfa crescer em sua direção numa velocidade que te faria tremer, caso a distância permitisse.

Acertou seu nariz em cheio e, agora sim, cá estamos.

Você vê por meia pupila; tudo turvo. As bochechas estão quentes, a madeira raspa no dorso, o corpo abrasa e os cheiros são uma zorra. A dor, concentrada no meio da cara, ainda causa enxaqueca, mas deixou de ser a grande influência há incontáveis minutos.

Desde que você cambaleou, com as mãos cobrindo a área atingida, e Rafe abaixou a bermuda, você tenta distinguir o momento em que a aflição, que te deixava zonzo, deu lugar à bambeza causada pelo pau dele, que te abre sem um pingo de cuidado.

Tudo se diluiu tão rápido... você ficou sem saber o que sentir!

Rafe o socou; dói, mas é suportável. Agora ele está fodendo o seu buraco escorregadio contra a parede de madeira, a mesma em que você se chocou depois que ele lhe bateu.

É gostoso, mas você está puto.

Os feromônios exalados pelo alfa têm mais poder do que a mão grande apertando sua cintura e o braço musculoso que se engancha na parte de trás do seu joelho, levantando sua perna direita.

Com o queixo sobre seu ombro, Rafe arfa. — Tá molhadinho... — pressiona o peito nu contra o seu peito coberto, roçando o abdômen suado na sua piroca inchada enquanto investe para dentro e para fora numa vagareza torturante. — faz… faz muito tempo? Pensei que fosse… fosse doer quando eu metesse…

A fala atrai sua atenção e liberta sua cabeça da repetição de pensar em tudo sem mover um músculo.

Você leva as mãos para o pescoço do Cameron, espremendo. Ao sentir o gogó protuberar sob os dedos, você penetra com as unhas, rasgando meias-luas nas laterais.

Rafe fita seus olhos, com a respiração presa e a boca entreaberta. Os quadris travam na retirada; centímetros grossos esfriam enquanto a ponta alojada despeja pré-sêmen na sua entradinha, misturando porra à lubrificação natural. O cheiro dele vai custar a sair de você. — Que fachada... Não adianta fingir que é forte! — devido a escassez de ar, a voz soa acelerada.

Não há hipocrisia na frase, ele apenas gosta de sentir suas mãos o matando.

Gosta tanto que bate a virilha na sua bunda.

E só não colide com as bolas porque elas estão cativas abaixo do cós da bermuda - que se encontra arriada até o começo das coxas, com a barra esvoaçando nos joelhos.

Você responde no momento em que aquele pau enorme atola nas suas entranhas. — Não tô fingindo! — foi um grito. Um grito choroso que você escolhe ignorar. — É difícil pra você lidar com alguém que não pode controlar? — suas paredes, contraindo, chupando e chamando para dentro, fazem do seu tom uma baderna manhosa e embolada. Pelo menos você não gagueja.

Ocupa tanto espaço dentro e fora de você.

Dentro e fora...

— Não posso controlar? — murmura Rafe, baixo e arrastado. Ele sente as nuvens dentro de você, pulsando tão forte que dói. As pálpebras pesam, ocultando metade dos olhos. — Engraçado você dizer isso de pernas abertas pra mim, se contorcendo enquanto meu caralho arregaça seu buraquinho. — um sorriso debochado cairia bem agora, mas o alfa apresenta concentração e pupilas dilatadas.

Ele admira suas lágrimas, prestes a derramar as próprias.

— Não é disso que eu tô falando! — você chora de frustração, sem saber se por querer gozar ou pela raiva que cresce junto ao prazer.

— Mas é o que tá acontecendo. E você adora, ama quando eu mostro quem manda. — as marteladas retornam mais rápidas, mais fundas e mais quentes.

Seu ventre acende.

Você joga a cabeça para trás e arrasta as unhas cravadas para baixo, abrindo linhas na carne do pescoço à frente, de onde pequenas e grandes bolhas de sangue se acumulam. O suor leva algumas delas, salgando as feridas.

Influenciado pelo ardor que a sujeira gera, Rafe lateja muito forte, mal sentindo a pele que cobre o pau de tão duro que está. — Uh! Cacete! — emite por entre os lábios, mais audível a cada segundo. O alfa afasta as pernas para bater profundamente em seus nervos, lança os quadris para frente ao que também joga a cabeça para trás e, aos poucos, reconquista sua fragrância adocicada, ficando bêbado com ela.

A madeira colada às suas costas treme conforme seu corpo balança no sentido dos golpes violentos, indo para cima e para baixo contra a estrutura áspera - você é um fantoche fincado no pinto dele.

O movimento tira um fio de sangue do seu nariz lesado. Desce rápido demais, e você sente o gosto primeiro, quando já enferruja os lábios.

Não há tempo para compreender, pois a boca macia de Rafe se fecha sobre a sua.

Ele curva o pescoço para meter a língua, empurrando a própria saliva e o seu sangramento para dentro, assim como estoca a própria porra e faz a sua lubrificação retornar no buraco de baixo; chega rosa no queixo e pinga branco no chão.

Os gemidos manhosos do alfa ecoam na sua garganta, abafados quando as pausas para respirar alto terminam. Os narizes atritam-se brevemente, provocando uma lamúria. A mão que antes apertava sua cintura agora abraça seu quadril, puxando-o de encontro às estocadas ansiosas, e o braço que levanta sua perna segue firme na missão, mesmo com o suor dificultando.

Sob tantos estímulos, Rafe se perde no formigamento crescente do abdômen e esquece das outras funções; ele constantemente para de mover a língua, só gemendo contra seus lábios enquanto fode.

Mas você está enjoado de sentir apenas o gosto do que lhe foi arrancado naquela união.

Durante o espancamento remodelador, sua mão encarna a dona aranha e sobe pela nuca dele, juntando os fios castanhos entre os dedos. Um puxão violento finda o que você chamaria de 'bate boca' e, antes que um protesto escape, você enfia dois dedos bem lá no fundo. — Lambe. — sussurra.

Mas ele morde.

Então você separa as juntas - mesmo que machuque -, encontrando, no interior da bochecha, a ferida que parou de sangrar, e usa o dedo médio para pressioná-la.

Rafe choraminga e espreme os olhos; dói. Mas, em compensação, ele fica mais duro e, de testa franzida pelo desconforto, soca forte.

Só quando jorra gozo, lágrimas e sangue do alfa é que você volta a beijá-lo.

Entretanto, o que perdura é o bater de lábios, com o Cameron soltando gemidinhos entrecortados, eufórico enquanto o abdômen contrai e exaltado ao se testemunhar entupindo seu ventre de porra grossa.

O saco convulsiona como se houvesse um coração pulsando em cada bola.

Ele tenta focar no beijo, mas o cérebro já virou mingau. — Nngh, porra! — os olhos brilham com lágrimas que não descem, quase totalmente brancos de tão revirados. Rafe suga o lábio inferior para dentro, se mordendo e exibindo os dentes.

Os corpos estão colados. Suor é cola.

Aquela piroca entra e sai com tanta brutalidade que sua bunda bate na parede atrás, e o esperma praticamente o penetra junto, sendo lançado no formato de fios espessos que imediatamente chutam a porta do destino.

O esporro continua e Rafe para, fincado até os pelinhos da virilha encostarem na sua rodela inchada. O sêmen é demais, se acumula na borda e esguicha pelos lados. A parcela que fermenta dentro é cremosa, muito quente; te deixa aéreo, falham-te as pernas.

O alfa pressiona os dedos sobre a sua barriga, projetando o formato da própria glande através da pele.

Rafe não acha a sua próstata, ele força a sua próstata a encontrar o pau dele.

No decorrer das últimas latejadas no seu buraquinho, você finalmente chega lá: a ansiedade domina o seu peito por breves segundos, antes que quilos de frustração sejam expulsos junto da porra saltando do seu pau negligenciado, manchando sua camiseta e banhando o abdômen de Rafe.

Aquele sorriso estúpido regressa e tudo rui para você, como antes de trepar loucamente. — Só a minha pica pode entrar aqui, entendeu? — o pau dele não amolece por completo, mas ele tem a decência de retirá-lo devagar - o formato fica - e te ajudar a se equilibrar.

Você quer limpar o sangue da cara, mas desiste - os braços estão molengas demais.

O ar esfria seu anel arregaçado, que contrai enquanto a carga acumulada cai feito cascata. Rafe observa fixamente no tempo em que levanta a bermuda e leva uma das mãos para baixo do cós, a fim de ajeitar a posição do pau sob o tecido.

— Aham. Vai sonhando. — você responde com tédio, evitando a face de Rafe para um bem maior.

O alfa se põe de costas, arrastando os pés rumo à porta e abrindo uma fresta para verificar os arredores. — Tomou a pílula? É bom ter tomado. — desbrava um nível novo de rouquidão, ainda descendo do pico.

— Tomei antes de vir pra cá. — apesar da raiva e do nojo matinais, você sabia que não resistiria, então precaveu-se.

— Bom garoto. — ele volta a te encarar, respirando pela boca enquanto o peitoral pesado infla e desinfla.

Você decide que vai dormir na Kiara aquela noite; não podia voltar para casa cheirando a amêndoas.

*Vamos fingir que eu não usei o hífen de maneira totalmente errônea OK! O travessão já tá na fala, se eu usasse em qualquer outro sentido ficaria confuso 😩 e também é a minha primeira vez escrevendo abo!!! Não sei se fiz bem

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