"Don't look away from me," he murmurs. "Your eyes. Let me see them. I need to see you." His mouth is on your neck, his hands roaming over your skin. He's desperate. His tongue follows the path of his lips, tasting the air with a fervour that borders on the needy. He lets out a ragged exhale that turns into a moan against your flesh.

"You're mine," he groans. "You're perfect. You're mine."

Dalzollene

Dalzollene is pressed against your body, hands at your hips. His head dips to kiss you, lips trailing across your jaw and down the column of your throat. "You're so good to me," he murmurs between pecks and kisses. "Good," he repeats. He presses closer against you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. Dalzollene's body presses hard against yours, pushing you back against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hips to come up under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place. His lips find your sensitive point just under your jaw, and he nips you there. "My good girl." He says, as though he means it. "Gods, you're good to me." His kisses are hot, almost feverish, against your skin as his lips dance and suck to a new spot after just leaving the last. One hand grabs your hip tighter, pinning you to the wall behind you. The other slides down your chest and stomach, leaving fire in every place his fingertips graze you. "You're gonna make me weak if you keep being so good to me," he rasped against your neck. "Oh, you're so goddamn good to me." Dalzollene nips the soft flesh of your collarbone.

Feitan

"Ouch-!" Feitan lets out a soft laugh against your lips. His teeth nip at your skin, taking the tiniest tastes of you, relishing in the sweet moan that escapes your throat as he does so. His hand curls around your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

"You are delicious," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "I could feast on you for eternity." Feitan's hand slides back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He tugs, pulling your head back and baring your neck for him. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Who do you belong to?" He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Say it. Let me hear those sweet little words." His hand continues to grasp at you, as if he cannot get enough of your touch. His teeth graze against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the line of your pulse. "Whose are you?" He breathes, his voice as soft and sweet as honey. "Tell me. Who do you belong to? Answer me. I will have my name on your hips, your back, everywhere. I'll carve it into you."

Ging

"Watch my-?" Ging stutters before cutting himself off, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He blinks once, twice, before letting out a soft, almost inaudible exhale of breath. "My tongue?" Ging pulls you against him. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you right flush against him. Gings other hand slides lower, slipping down to your hip.

"You're a brat, aren't you? No one ever complained about my kisses, ever." He murmurs, smirking. "Probably cause you never ever kissed someone, ever." You mock him. "You've always been a brat." Ging lets out a quiet laugh.

He tugs his hand from your hair, coming to rest it on your hip instead; his grip tightens ever-so-slightly. The hand at your stomach begins to rise, creeping just beneath the edge of your shirt. His hand slides higher, fingertips brushing against your skin, just shy of the waistband of your pants. Ging lets your ear fall against the crook of his neck, the action bringing you even more closely against him than you were a moment ago— it's as though he's attempting to meld the two of you together like an experiment.

He grins. "How long has it been since you've been on your best behaviour?"

Hanzo

Hanzo is a mess of kisses. He worships your lips like a shrine, he worships the curve of your neck, he worships the slope of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, everything. In a moment, he is a man drowning in an ocean of bliss— his body pressed against yours, his hands gripping you tight, holding you close to him.

The man is a kiss-soaked mess— his body a trembling mess, every kiss turning him to jelly. He holds onto you like he never wants to let go. "Did you ever-" but you were quickly shut down, "Never before." The answer comes in hushed, urgent tones. His hands trail over you like fire, tracing the curves and lines of your body like your skin is a map he wants to re-draw a thousand times.

"Never like this." His hands roam down your back. "Not with anyone like this." His words end on a gasp as his hand comes down to cup you, his touch possessive and almost reverent. It is a caress, but at the same time, it's claiming you.

"I have longed to touch you," he whispers, his words like a prayer. "To caress you… to hold you…" His words are like nothing he'd ever thought of before, but he seems to be spilling them without a care. It's as if he has been holding them back for years, and your touch has forced them out. For the first time, Hanzo is a man without a filter, no hesitation, no hesitance. "To touch you..." he murmurs, as he leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. "So desperately."

Hisoka

"Yes." He moans between kisses, arching up into you. He presses his body against yours, as close as two souls can be. Every kiss, every touch, only makes the fire inside him grow. His fingers, cold as moonlight, dance over your skin. His lips are soft, but his touch is hungry— he wants you, needs you, like a starving puppy that only a single meal will suffice. "Oh," he whispers against your lips, "OH~" he moans, "Mmm, yes, keep it coming." He lets out a shuddering breath. Hisoka's fingers dip into your hair and thread through the soft strands, grabbing the locks in a way that makes it hard for you escape from his hold.

"So good. You're so good, so—" He cuts off a moan, his breath hitching in anticipation of something. "Can you shut the fuck up, clown ass-" you blurt out.

Hisokas eyes gleam, sparkling like jewels as he looks up at you. He loves it when you take control like this. All those sounds he made before are nothing compared to his cocky grin now. "Mmm, make me," he responds, teasingly.

Hisoka's hand slides up your arm, all the way up and his fingers dig into your shoulder hard. His smirk is playful, but that look in his eyes… that's no joke. A low growl rolls past his lips. 

"I dare you," he teases. "Make me shut up."

Illumi

Kissing Illumis lips feels like kissing a statue. His body is rigid, like the very air around him has frozen. The only response you get from him is from the way he shudders against you, or from the soft sound that slips from his lips when your tongue touches against his.

The kiss feels as if it were frozen in time. Illumi is completely and utterly frozen. The only sign he makes of life in his body is his hands— they're resting on your shoulders, fingers curling and releasing.

Your lips part from his, it's pointless and in a way embarrassing for you to keep going. "Did you...ever made out before?" "No." His answer is simple. His fingers grip tighter against your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him. The stiffness in his body grows to the point that you might believe he stopped breathing entirely.

"Mother has taught me." "WHAT?!" "She said that making out, or kissing is a waste of time and should not be part of the relationship process. It takes away too much time." "Ah-"

The little sound you make makes Illumi pause.

His fingers flex and loosen against your shoulders. He's tense, body frozen in place, when suddenly he pulls you a little tighter.  "Ah," he repeats, your single little sound is so perfect to his ears. Soft and breathy.

"Well, seems like you have to...teach me then."

Kite

"My everything." Kite's fingers trail along your jaw, over your lips, tracing the lines of your face. "My only love."  He buries his nose into your neck, breathes you in. "Please." He says, the word almost a whimper of desire.

"Please, don't ever jump so reckless into danger again." "...Promise." "I hope so." The corners of Kite's lips curl up into a slight, affectionate smile, but it's a shaky smile. He buries a hand into your silken hair and breathes against your throat.

"Promise me you'll run when i tell you to. You stay where you are when i tell you to. You do as i tell you to. We don't know what we might encounter in NGL."

"Good." Kite's entire body relaxed, a shudder coming over him as your word echoed through his mind. He breathed out against your skin, nuzzling into that sweet spot beneath your jaw. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against you in a kiss, and again, and again. He wants to lose himself in you.

"Please, do as told and leave me behind if you must."

Knov

Knov's lips are as cold as his skin is warm. It's a strange sensation, one that seems both heavenly and sinful at once. His arms are wrapped around you as though he would never let go. There's an almost reverent expression on his face as his lips connect with yours, and his hands roam your body as if he is trying to prove to himself you're really there.

He kisses you. Deeply and passionately, as if he were starving and you were the first thing that wasn't ice in his mouth. Knov's lips are cold, his hands hot against your skin. He guides you closer to him, one arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, a stark contrast to the cold of his lips.

His other hand is buried in your hair, fingers tangled in your locks like a man who was desperate to touch you. "Gods, you're beautiful," he murmurs. Knov's eyes roam over you almost possessively, as though he wants to look at every inch of you. He's silent like this, for the first time in as long as you can remember. He's so focused, so intent on you, that he has forgotten how to hold a conversation. All of his attention is on you— your form, the way your hair bounces as you move, the way your clothes mould themselves against you— he's completely captivated.

When he finally does speak again, his voice is rough. Deep and husky.

"I've missed you."

Knuckle

"C-Chill out-!" Knuckle's reaction to that is quite a lot of things, most of them sinful, and you can't tell when he stops kissing you or when he pulls back. For a moment he just stares at you, eyes wide. "You-" he breaths. The words fail him, replaced by a soft, shaky exhale. For a moment he's too stunned to move, staring.

But then, you're pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as humanly possible. He buries his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin. The way he kisses is desperate, desperate like a man starving in the desert. His breaths are hot against your skin, and his hands are gripping your waist, holding onto you so tightly he fears you might disappear.

"What as gotten into you." you chuckle lightly as his lips and hair tickle your skin. "You," he chokes out, his voice coming as a sharp gasp against your neck. His head lifts, and he kisses down the column of your neck, and you can hear the way he says "you" between kisses, and it sounds like a prayer, like a plea, like a vow. "You've gotten into me—"

Kurapika

"Feeling better?" You ask him, holding his face gently in your hands. "The world feels less cold," he admits. His hands come up to hold your face. He's never seen anything as precious as you before, and there is a sense of reverence in the way that he looks at you.

"I've never felt... whole." His fingertips trace the lines of your jaw. "I'm better now," he says, voice barely above a whisper. As he speaks, Kurapika's hands are still tracing the expanse of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the curve of your cheeks— as if he's memorising how it feels to finally touch you.

His eyes have softened when they look at you. The tension in his body seems to have left at last. "I'm better when I'm with you," he says. He kisses you. His lips are soft and warm against yours, the taste like sweet wine against your tongue, a heady mix of sweetness and intoxicating desire.

His arms are gentle as they wrap around your waist, drawing you closer still. As if your proximity isn't enough, he pulls you over so that you're sat atop  of him on his lap. His lips are hungry— a desperate need against your mouth as he kisses you over and over again.

Leorio

Leorio kisses back fiercely, lips pressing against yours fervently, tongue slipping past your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, fingers tangling gently in your hair, cradling you against him as if he cannot get enough of you. He melts at your touch, breath leaving him in soft, shuddering gasps. He pulls back just slightly, only by millimeters— his lips just barely ghosting over your skin, his breath hot and needy and soft against your neck. Leorio swallows, lips parting slightly. The sound of his breath against your skin has an unmistakable undertone of need. He presses closer, pressing his body against yours, body shaking against you. Every breath he takes has his name falling from his lips.

"Gods," he gasps, voice a desperate whisper. "Bab…I don't know how much patience I have left."

He presses his lips between your collarbones, leaving soft, reverent kisses against smooth flesh. "I'm going crazy." You are making him absolutely unravel.

He murmurs your name as he presses kisses against your neck. He's whimpering now, a litany of praise against your skin like a desperate prayer. "Your- Gods, I need you-" His fingers clutch at your shirt, body trembling. "-I need to be closer to you."

The way he's shuddering against you is like a leaf in the wind. A shudder, a press, another kiss to your skin. "I'm going to break if I don't have you now."-

Menthuthuyoupi

"Wait-! Not so r-!" Menthuthuyoupi gasps, a low, startled sound that catches in his throat. He blinks down at you. "Not so rough?" His words are muffled against the soft plush of your lips, but the sound is clear. He pauses, lifting his head slightly— his lips barely leave yours, and he's still close enough that his body is flush against yours. His mouth brushes against your lips, the sound of his deep and gravelly voice rumbling from his chest.

He leans closer, his eyes still fixed on yours, and he murmurs. "Or not so loud?"

"Rough-!" "Yes." His breath is hot on your face, his tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate stroke of heat. A shudder runs through him as he pulls back just enough to speak. He tilts his head, and he looks up you. "You like that?" He tilts his head, his mouth only inches away from yours. A smirk pulls at his mouth, and he teases you in kind. "Rough." Menthuthuyoupis breath hitches against your ear. He shivers, his body taut with tension as his hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tightening against the soft skin.

"Rough." He murmurs once more, his voice barely a touch above a whisper. He pulls back slightly, and the look in his eyes is like a wildcat stalking its prey.

"You want rough." He repeats, as though it is the most obvious thing in the universe.

Meruem

His lips move against yours automatically. He kisses you with a sense of reverence so intense, you'd think you were worshipping a god in the shape of a man. Meruem's heart is in his throat. This is all he's ever dreamed of, all he's dreamed of since the day you first turned your eyes onto him. He kisses you like a dying man who is being reborn (literally). A man starving who cannot fathom having food, but here it is, right in front of him.

Just before you pull away, Meruem murmurs.

"Mine." His mouth curls up at that. He grins, but there's hunger behind his eyes, and something else too. A sense of possession. A deep, feral need to keep what is his and his alone. "Mine to devour," he agrees. "Mine to love. Mine to hold. Mine to eat if i so desire." Meruem kisses you again, this time more aggressively, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your lips so that he will never forget the taste again. His hands, large and strong, come up to rest on your waist; his fingers dig into your body, claiming you as his with a possessive force that takes your breath.

He breaks the kiss, only to move back in, kissing you again and again. Each time, his embrace around you deepens, becomes harder. His breaths are becoming heavier.

"My Human tastes so good."

Morel

Morel is a man who is all restraint. He is meticulous, precise, and disciplined. He has a reputation as a hunter for his precise, deadly combat, but he has also been known to be a slow, almost deliberate lover.

His kiss against your mouth is slow and unhurried. When his lips part from yours, he pauses to gaze at you, as if you are a precious gemstone. Morel will look at you as if for the first time, even after months of seeing you. No matter how many times he's been in your presence, every look is like the first. His expression is always one of reverent awe. His hands are cool, soft, and steady. They rest against your face when he kisses you. He holds you close, like a flower held in a gentle breeze that will protect you from all the storms of the world. His movements are deliberately slow, as if he is savouring every inch of you.

"Morel..." His name on your lips makes his body shiver with something he couldn't have prepared for in a million deaths. He is as if carved from stone. The word that slips from your mouth as if falling from the gods themselves makes him feel like he's been touched by lightning.

"Say it again…?" he whispers.

"Morel." "You'll remember to scream that later." "Wait what?"

Neferpitou

Neferpitou shivers at the sensation of your lips. Soft. Plump. Just the right amount of firmness. When your hand cups the side of their face, they tilt their head into your hand — as though they couldn't be more content to be in your grasp.

"Was...was that a kiss…?" They ask breathlessly. Neferpitou has always been quiet, but they are so very desperate for you. Neferpitou kisses you like a drowning man, with a desperation that almost seems to consume the room. There are no words that need be said to describe this, only actions.

When your back hits the wall, Neferpitou is flush against you, their lips still on yours, tongue tracing over your teeth. Their hand reaches up to grasp you by the neck, pressing against your jaw with the same sort of urgency.

Their breaths get deeper, more ragged with want. "You're mine…" Neferpitou breathes when they finally pull back from your kiss, leaving only a few inches of space between your lips. Their thumb brushes over your lip, lingering as if they couldn't bear the thought of letting it go.

"Say you're mine, human!"

Netero

His lips are warm, softer than they have any right to be. His arms are around you, firm as a mountain, but gentle in a way that says he's being careful. He tastes of the rain, like the afterglow of a storm. His arms tighten against your back in a way that makes it perfectly clear: he intends on holding onto you for all eternity. He is centuries old— but he feels young with you. He holds you against him like a relic, a treasure from the very first second that he's made you his.

Your body fits against his, the two of you slotting together like the final bit of a puzzle. He is warm against you, his head buried against the crook of your neck, as if you are a pillow, and all his thoughts are on you. His face is pressed into your hair, and he inhales slowly, your scent filling his senses and his eyes flutter shut. It feels as if a part of him has been missing all his life, and then you came along and you fit so perfectly into his arms that all at once he realises: you were always that missing piece.

"I've been waiting for so long," he mumbles. "I'm not going to let go of you now."

Nobunaga

Nobunagas head is in the crook of your neck. He is breathing deeply, as if you could drown out the whole world with the scent of you alone. "I love you," he breathes again, against your skin. "You're it… you're all I need…"

His hand gently runs up your arm, holding you against him. He's clinging to you like a barnacle. Nobunaga's breath hitches as your touch moves against his jawline. "You're too good for me." His words are barely a whisper.  His eyes close as soon as your hand touches his face, and he's completely quiet now, save for the sound of his breath.

If it weren't for his heart beating, one would almost assume that he's dead. He's as still as a statue, as if the mere whisper of your touch could bring him shattering to his knees. "You," he murmurs again, his voice low, "you're everything. More. So many good things I'm not. You're— I would die for you. I would."

His grip on your arm tightens. "I'm lost in you… I'm—" he trails off, swallowing thickly.

Pariston

"Somebody might-" "Let them," Pariston murmurs against your mouth. He's breathless, his face a few inches from yours, eyes wide and fixed in a mixture of reverence and adoration. "Let them look. Let them see your good man; your beautiful lover." He pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him. There's something almost feverish in the way he looks at you. "Let them see that you're mine. Let them know you're the only one that matters." "But-" "But?" His tone matches yours; gentle, questioning. "But what?"

His eyes search yours, as if he's almost afraid that you'll tell him to stop— that he'll be forced to part from you, even for a second. He holds his ground, unmoving, his body pressed close to yours. Pariston smiles at you, a tender curve of the lips. It's a smile full of warmth and adoration.

It's the kind of smile that is utterly unguarded, a simple, unburdened smile that comes from nothing but love and affection. Pariston's tongue peeks out from behind his lips to moisten them. He brings a hand up to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

"You look pretty when you're flustered," he comments. "And so flustered," he teases, his finger trailing lower down your face to brush against your neck playfully. "Are you scared that they'll think I'm taking advantage of you, my love?"

His hand slides down your arm; a shiver goes through you as his fingertips linger over your forearm. "Scared that they'll think that I'm making you mine?"

A pause, before he adds in a husky drawl that sounds more like a growl, "Scared that you'll like it?"

Phinks

"Only strong for you," Phinks murmurs with a soft gasp, breathless and trembling.

His arms tighten around you, fingers gripping your shoulders as he pulls you closer, needing to have you in his embrace. The only thought his mind is able to form is of you, of you, of you. Phinks breath hitches.

His fingers tighten around your waist. His lips part easily as his head cocks back and his breaths grow more urgent. He makes a low, soft sound as his fingers clutch tighter to your body, and he presses himself closer to you. Phinks can't get enough of this. He can't get enough of having you close, of having you so close to him. Of hearing you breathe, of feeling the weight of you on top of him.

He kisses you more roughly this time, tongue pressing against yours. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you closer, and his fingers dig into your skin.

He pulls away and presses his lips to your neck, lips whispering against the skin.

"You drive me insane." One of his legs hooks around yours and he rolls, reversing the positions so that he is on top of you, staring down at you from above. He presses against you, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

Pokkle

"Me, shy?" Pokkle almost laughs, only holding in the sound with a stifled huff. He raises his face slowly to look at you, his eyes glistening just like they almost always do when he looks towards you. "I am not shy," he says. "I simply—"

His voice trails off once again and he looks down at his feet. He lets out a low, shuddering breath— he's never been a good liar. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"I'm not getting shy at all. I'm not. I just…" He looks up, eyes meeting yours almost immediately, like a flower seeking sun. "A moment of weakness. A brief vulnerability— I-"

He sighs. God, he is a bad liar.

"Shut up and keep kissing me." You whisper, leaning closer to him. Pokkle freezes at that order. His breath stops in his chest. For a moment, it seems he's stunned speechless by the statement.

And then, he reacts. All he does is stare for a second, and you catch a spark of something new in Pokkles eyes. "Okay," he says; his voice is barely a whisper as he responds to you, soft and just a little bit breathy.  He pulls you close.

Razor

His hands are gentle as he touches you, as he runs his fingers over you like you are pure light. Razor loves to tease you, loves to hear your little whimpers and gasps as his touch slides over you. "Did you do that on purpose?" Razor asks, voice slightly breathless as he presses his thumb over the spot were he just left his mark. "I don't believe you're this bad at practicing nen." there's a slight edge to his voice, "and I know you aren't that bad."

"Or— maybe," he murmurs— "I'm just that skilled at making you lose your focus." Razor lets his fingers dance over your skin while your heart beats faster under his touch. "You're so easy," he muses. His tongue slips out, running the tip along the seam of your lips. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky whisper:

"You're so desperate just for me to touch you."

His fingers dance along the inside of your shirt as they slip under the fabric, caressing the warm, supple skin beneath his fingertips. He kisses you again. His teeth close around your bottom lip. He nips at your mouth with more force. He gently bites and sucks and pulls until you're letting out the pretty noises that drive him crazy. When he releases your lip, a thread of saliva still connected to his mouth, he grins against it.

"You're not very quiet at all."

Shaiapouf

His kisses are soft, as if he is touching a piece of art that could crumble under the pressure of his own touch. He holds your gaze as he does, eyes wide and open, like a child that has seen something that has rocked his very world. His tongue is soft and slow against your mouth, warm and gentle like the summer sun. His body is warm as well, every muscle under his clothes as taut as tautrope. He moves slowly, languid, languid. He would not speed the pace on his own accord. He's content to worship you with his lips. His mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing against the bare skin, soft as satin.

He's silent as he presses kisses against your throat, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales your scent, as if it alone was a sacrament he was consuming.

He moves lower, his mouth moving to the hollow of your throat. He pauses there, then moves down to the collarbone, his hair splaying across your skin. Shaiapoufs tongue runs along the contour of your collarbone. He lets it dance across the skin of your collarbone, as it would a melody on the strings. He presses gentle kisses there, moving his way back up along your throat to your jaw.

His hands are at your face, stroking softly across your cheek, your chin, your jaw. His touch is like a caress. He strokes over your lips.

Shalnark

A small whimper sounds in the back of Shalnarks throat as your lips meet. He is quick to return the kiss, as if every fiber of his being is focused on that one singular contact. He reaches up, resting his palm against the curve of your jaw, turning your head so that he can deepen the kiss.

His breath is hot against your skin, his other hand gripping your waist, fingers digging hard into the fabric of your clothes. "You're mine," he murmurs against your lips, almost desperately. His fingers tug at your clothes, trying to pull you closer. If he could have, he would have torn them from you, and then your body, so that he could have you even closer.

Shalnark tongue brushes over your lower lip, and he makes a soft sound—a small whimper—as he does so. He is desperate, and his touch is rough. In that moment, he simply wants to be close to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Mine," he mumbles, again.

Shoot

Shoot melts into your kiss, a soft gasp of surprise escaping him as you kiss him, and he responds quietly, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch you. He's timid, but also hungry, desperate to feel your lips upon his.

His body presses against yours as your lips touch, and he makes another soft gasp as his hands finally touch your skin. You take his hands in mine and place them on your waist. Shoot hands freeze as they slide against your waist. His fingertips touch your hip, gently wrapping around you. He swallows hard, the sound loud in the quiet, as he pulls you closer. He lets his fingers explore your back, sliding up to your shoulders. His hands are cold, but not unwelcome. He keeps going, as if he's lost himself in the simple pleasure of touching you. "Your skin…it's so warm," he murmurs, voice a little breathless. The words are like smoke from his lips, his body shivering against yours. "I didn't expect—"

A soft noise sounds from his throat, and Shoot tugs you closer against himself, his body molding against yours like clay. "It's been too long. I've missed the touch of warm skin," he complains, leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.

Uvogin

Uvogin is in control— a gentle yet calloused hand against the sensitive skin of your jaw, lips moving against yours. When he speaks, his voice is soft, gentle, and deep- "Mmmm, I could kiss you forever." He murmurs against your lips, his thumb tracing soft patterns upon your neck, as if mapping out the shape of your pulse.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nipping, then kissing again. He's pinning you against a wall, his body trapping you against it, his hips against yours.

Another kiss, deep and hungry, tongue pressing against your lips in an almost desperate demand for more of you. Uvogin doesn't speak, his mouth busy, claiming, exploring.  His hands roam up your back, pulling you flush to his chest. "You're so perfect," he mutters in between kisses, his voice husky, heavy with a desire he seems unable to control. One hand slides into your hair, holding your head in place, his body pressing you down, holding you in place against the wall.

His lips travel down your jawline, across your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing in a pattern that is both maddening and delicious.

Wing

Wings tongue slips between your lips as he draws you in for a kiss. His hands grip at your body, pulling you close, pressing you close until you can barely move. His head tilts slightly to the side, lips moving at a slow, torturous pace. He seems to drink you in, savoring the taste of you. He's gentle, oh so gentle, and yet at the same time he can't bring his lips away from yours. "Please," he whispers, his voice a low growl when he pulls away just enough to speak. "Please don't let me go, not now. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Wings arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against him as if he'll die if he lets you go.

He presses his body close to yours, his head leaning on your shoulder. He's desperate for a moment of peace and your presence, and yet he knows that you could leave at any moment. "I won't." Wing grip around you tightens at those words. He inhales shakily, his body shuddering. His breath brushes over your neck, warm against your skin.

"Say it again." He demands, lifting his head to look up at you. Despite his firm tone, his eyes are soft, almost pleading. He's desperate to hear it from you, for you to reassure him.

In his role of a Beast Hunter, Shoot had faced down hordes of charging animals and encountered all sorts of shady characters in the most hostile of environments, but somehow the thought of taking you, a defenseless civilian, felt like the more difficult task. As usual, his cowardice would show its face at the worst possible time.

He sighed to himself, and then looked back again to a particular window in the apartment building across from his.

You were in the same place: on the couch in your living room with your laptop, your eyes focused on the screen and your mouth set in a slight frown.

No doubt you were looking through available job listings.

The company you had worked at previously had downsized, causing a fair amount of employees to be laid off. Unfortunately, you were among those that were deemed to be expendable.

All that had happened a few months prior, and you had since gotten a temporary job. It wasn't one that you liked, however, and you had told everyone around you that it was just something to keep yourself afloat until you found something better. Except the 'something better' that you were looking for had yet to reveal itself to you, so you'd been scouring job sites and putting in your resume where you could, though it wasn't going as well as you'd hoped. You were still stuck with a job you didn't like, and came back home after every shift exhausted and stressed.

Shoot had been keeping an eye on you since you'd gotten back today, and some time had now passed since you first opened up your laptop in search of a job better suited to you. Though it seemed as if you were finishing up with the job search tonight, as he watched while you sighed to yourself and then shut the laptop closed, stretching your arms out over your head after. It was confirmed to him when you pulled out your phone and began scrolling through it aimlessly.

No luck tonight, but you'd try again tomorrow. That was most likely your line of thinking.

He hoped you'd eat something soon, though. Since getting back, you all you had done was take a shower and then immediately after went on the job search, and the only thing he'd seen you consume during that time was a single glass of water.

You needed to take better care of yourself.

But as much as he wished he could head over to your unit and remind you to eat something, all that would result in was you becoming afraid of him when you realized that he had been watching you. Plus some possible issues with law enforcement if you were to go to the police. Though with his Hunter license on hand, they wouldn't be able to do much of anything even if they did manage to come across him. But it would no doubt cause you stress.

That worry about your well-being was also why he was in this current predicament:

As much as Shoot wanted you, he worried about how well you would take it if he went through with kidnapping you. No matter what, your mental state would suffer and you would definitely hate him in the beginning.

Shoot sighed again, chiding himself internally. There had been a time when needing to take you wouldn't have been necessary, when he could've possibly approached you and started up a relationship in a 'normal' way. But every time he had tried, he always ended up psyching himself out and running off before you could even lay eyes on him.

And every time after, as he berated himself while staring at you from the apartment he rented for the sole purpose of keeping an eye on you, he told himself that he could try again next time, and that he'd be successful then. That he had as much time as he needed to accomplish that.

What a stupid thought.

He should've known better. Not just as a Hunter, but as someone with common sense. He should've known that he couldn't have expected that things would always stay the same with you, that you would magically stay single until he finally built up the nerve to speak to you.

Shoot noticed when the screen of your phone suddenly lit up as you received a phone call, and after reading the name on the screen, you smiled to yourself.

Based on that reaction, Shoot already had an idea as to who was calling, and his suspicions were confirmed when you answered the phone and he read your lips as you greeted the caller with a 'hey babe'.

The only person you would speak to like that was Kian.

Your boyfriend.

The two of you had only been going out for over a month now, but it seemed to be going well for you. And despite the short amount of time together, you always seemed so happy whenever you spoke to him after a difficult day.

Just like now, when he saw you smiling at something Kian had said and observed the way the tension left your shoulders. Just because of a few words from him.

…..

… Ah, damn.

Shoot realized that he was grinding his teeth again. It was a bad habit that he'd begun only recently, coinciding with when you started dating Kian. Just knowing that another man was spending time with you like that frustrated Shoot more than he thought possible.

It was even worse to see another man touching you.

Though that was his own fault, he reminded himself. For never getting up the courage to approach you and telling himself that it was fine to continue hanging back and watching you from afar. That cowardice of his had cost him his opportunity, and now he was forced to watch you go on dates and being affectionate with your boyfriend.

Despite that, Shoot couldn't bring himself to do anything to your boyfriend. Not only because he truly didn't enjoy hurting others, but he was aware that Kian hadn't done anything wrong. Even if he frustrated Shoot just by the way he spoke to you, you had chosen him, so it was natural that he would be loving towards you and that you would respond in kind.

Shoot simply disagreed with your choice.

You were still on the phone with Kian, and Shoot could tell most of what you were saying by reading your lip movements, though you occasionally made it difficult whenever you turned your head away from the direction of the window. The topic was your job search and how you still hadn't heard anything from any of the places you'd applied to.

After you said that, your expression fell slightly, and your demeanor was more in line with what he'd seen when you were on those job sites earlier. But that changed when your boyfriend said something to you, and there was a smile on your face once more. It looked like you were agreeing with him.

I sent in an application to Motoba, too. Maybe they'll like my resume.

That was the last thing he could decipher before you changed the topic away from the job hunt and instead asked your boyfriend how his day had been. After that, you were mostly quiet, only piping in occasionally with some comment to whatever your boyfriend was saying.

All Shoot could hope for was that this wouldn't be a call that lasted hours again. It wasn't terribly late, but you had a tendency to talk for a long time with Kian. And you still hadn't eaten.

Tell him that you need to hang up, Shoot silently urged you. That you need to do the bare minimum in taking care of yourself. If he really cares about you, he'll respect that.

All you did was reach for the glass of water you'd gotten for yourself earlier and drink what little was still left in it.

And the phone call was still ongoing.

Shoot sighed.

Once again, all he could do was watch. Watch and wait until you were done talking with him, and then hope that you'd get some dinner before you eventually went to bed. At least you could get a decent rest tonight, he thought to himself. Your job had scheduled you to work in the early afternoon tomorrow, so you could sleep in if you needed to.

That would likely be the only highlight, however. After that, it would be another day where you worked hard at a job you hated before returning home to continue your unsuccessful search for one that would be better for you. All because Shoot couldn't bring himself to follow through.

Because every time he felt like he could go to you and catch you off-guard, a voice in his head would give him some reason as to why he shouldn't.

Breaking in would make too much noise and leave too much damage.

You would fight him and he'd need to use more force than he wanted.

There were too many bystanders in the area that would either act as would-be rescuers or potential witnesses to your kidnapping.

Every time, lines of reasoning like that would pop into his head, and his cowardice would reappear as he once again did nothing to put an end to the limbo he'd created for himself.

And that was the case now, it seemed.

It was unlikely that anything more would happen tonight. Once again he was disappointed in himself for having squandered another chance to take you, but he countered that by telling himself that it would be fine; he'd follow through once he worked himself up to it.

….. Wasn't that mentality the reason he was in this predicament in the first place?

He found that he wanted to assure himself that it'd be different tomorrow, that he would finally follow through and make his desire to have you for himself a reality.

Unfortunately, that was also something he'd said to himself far too often.

Shoot glanced over to you again, just in time to see that you were now speaking, and he read the words on your lips again.

Yeah, that sounds great! I work later tomorrow, anyway.

Shoot's brows furrowed.

What had you just agreed to?

You stood up and turned around as you ended the call, inadvertently keeping Shoot from being able to tell what you said to your boyfriend before hanging up. Then you walked away from the window, heading towards your bedroom.

A pit formed in Shoot's stomach; it felt like something was going to happen that he wouldn't like.

When you walked back into view, you were carrying a small backpack, finishing up in stuffing extra clothes inside before tossing the backpack onto the couch and collecting your shoes from the other side of the room.

You were going over to spend the night with him, Shoot realized.

All the signs were pointing to that, and he felt his teeth grinding again.

….. No.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

But what could he do to stop you? Your boyfriend was expecting you and he would quickly notice that you were missing when you didn't show up at his place if Shoot chose to take you then. At the very least the Hunter wanted a few hours head start before anyone realized you were gone. That couldn't be accomplished at the moment.

It likely wouldn't be questioned it if you canceled on those plans, though. But the only way Shoot could see that happening was if he grabbed you on your way out and forced you to call up your boyfriend to tell him that you weren't going over. That would probably require threatening you, something Shoot didn't think he could do even if he didn't mean it. And it still ran the risk of you blurting out something over the phone and thereby making his efforts pointless.

No, the safest way would be if you canceled on your own.

But was there any way he could get you to do that?

Not sure of what to do, Shoot looked about his own unit, if there was possibly anything in there that could help him. That was when he caught sight of his phone, still plugged in and fully charged, and a thought struck him.

It was a bit late, but not so late that it would be outrageous if you were to get a call from one of the companies you applied to. Even if it was still odd, you were probably desperate enough to not question it.

And the name you had mentioned during your call... It was Motoba, wasn't it?

Taking in a deep breath after retrieving his phone, Shoot typed in the number to call your cellphone, a number he had learned and memorized a while ago but never had any reason to use. He then put the phone up to his ear, and listened as the line began to ring.

So much time spent watching you, but it was only now, when he felt that his back was up against the wall that he'd managed to make himself go forward with something.

Not the best tendency to have, but at least it was some assurance for himself: when push came to shove, Shoot could do what needed to be done.

He moved towards the window again, peeking out of it to see if he might see you again. Sadly, there was no sign of you in the window of your apartment, but after the phone rang twice, he heard you pick up.

“Hello?”

Your voice came through the phone's speaker, and Shoot felt as though his heart was fluttering at the sound. Realization hit him that this was the first time the two of you would exchange words.

Trying to keep his tone level, he addressed you by your first and last name as he asked if that was who he was speaking to. He needed to do his best to keep from messing this up.

“Who is this?” you asked.

The next attempt at speaking to you failed, and he needed to clear his throat again before he could get the words out. There was a time where he'd needed to impersonate a company worker and convince the manager in charge of an oil rig to allow Morel and Knuckle access when the management on said rig had refused to be accommodating towards the Hunters. As long as he put himself in the same mindset that he had for that job, he could pull this off too.

“I work for Motoba,” Shoot began, “I'm calling about the application you sent in.”

“Oh!”

There was more of a cheerful tone to your voice now, and he heard you walking about the apartment as you spoke again. He still didn't see you – you must've been in your bedroom.

“For the assistant position?” you asked.

“Yes, the position you applied for.”

Shoot immediately felt awkward answering like that and added “I wanted to know if you could come in tomorrow for an interview.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked.

There was a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you weren't expecting an interview to be scheduled so soon.

Stay in that mindset, he told himself. Play it off like it's normal.

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“No no. That's completely fine,” you quickly answered, “Sorry, I just didn't expect to hear anything so fast.”

“Of course,” Shoot replied, “I'm sorry if I'm calling too late.”

“Oh no, not at all! I'm really glad to hear from you.”

With his eyes still on your window, he saw when you finally walked back into view, the phone up to your ear while you looked ready to head out. He had called just in time, then.

“What time would you like me to come in?” you asked.

“Does eight in the morning work for you?”

“Yes, that should be-”

You stopped speaking when your eyes happened to look out the window. For a brief moment, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the apartment across from you.

The one where Shoot was currently standing at the window.

Only for a brief moment, however, for as soon as he saw your eyes catching sight of his form, he moved to the side and out of view.

His palms were starting to sweat, but he kept himself calm.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you.

His question brought your attention back to the call, and you stammered out “y-yeah. Sorry. It's fine. Eight is just fine.”

“Good. And you know where the main building is?” he asked.

“I believe it's off of Continental Street?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I know where to go,” you replied. In the background, Shoot could hear you doing something, though he wasn't certain what exactly that was just from the noise alone.

“We'll see you tomorrow, then,” Shoot told you.

“Yeah- yes! I'll see you tomorrow at eight,” you said, trying to keep your words professional as you added “thank you for calling me.”

“Of course.”

The phone call ended shortly after, leaving Shoot to stare at his phone screen.

Your voice sounded warm during those last moments of the call, and Shoot imagined you smiling when you spoke to him, like he'd made you happy. Though part of him was fully aware that you were happy for the opportunity he told you of and that you felt nothing for him. Certainly not from a phone call that didn't even last five minutes.

Still, he chose to imagine that it had brought you a little bit of happiness. Largely because he knew it would take some time for you to feel happy again after tomorrow. It would be a long period of distress and anger on your part once you realized what he did, and it would likely stress you out even more than your current situation was doing to you.

But it would work out for the best, he told himself.

Shoot then peeked out his window to look at you again, but he was disappointed when he found that the blinds to your window had been closed.

So that was what he'd heard you doing at the end of the call.

Still, it could've been worse; you could've been heading out to be with your boyfriend right now. And as Shoot watched your front door for several minutes and saw that it stayed closed, he felt some relief. The need to get up early in the morning kept you from going to spend a late night out at your boyfriend's place.

At least he had put a stop to that.

The next few hours passed by without any incident. You stayed inside, though because of the blinds that now covered the windows, he only had an idea of what you were doing based on what he had seen of your previous habits. Eventually the lights in your apartment turned dark, signaling that you'd gone to bed so you could get up early to be ready in time for your interview. Once that happened, Shoot sat down, leaning against the wall as he went over everything in his head.

There was no backing out of this now.

No matter what happened tomorrow morning, he couldn't back down again. Even if things went wrong. That internal voice of his would need to keep its mouth shut.

And finally, the limbo would come to an end.

In the early hours of the morning, when the light of the sun was only barely brightening up the sky, Shoot was waiting for you.

Standing at the end of the walkway, his eyes were fixed on your front door as he waited for the moment where you left.

You hadn't left yet, though he assumed that you would soon in order to make it to your eight o'clock interview. With the distance and how bad traffic could get, you would want to make sure that you had plenty of time to get to the Motoba building.

He would strike when you stepped out, when your back was turned and you were focused on locking up the door behind you. And even if Shoot wasn't the strongest Hunter around, subduing you wouldn't be an issue for him. Compared to some of the jobs he had taken, it would be incredibly easy.

As long as he didn't psych himself out in the middle of it.

No, that wouldn't happen. Like he had told himself last night: when push came to shove, he could do it. And as long as he moved fast and quiet, everything would go as he hoped.

A click from the door sounded as the lock was undone.

Anticipation caused his heart to beat harder when he heard that.

The door opened, and there you were. Wearing a set of nice clothes that you typically used for instances like job interviews when you wanted to make a good first impression. As expected, you were distracted when you stepped out, your attention on the door as you began to close it.

He moved.

Reaching you in moments, he clamped his hand over your mouth. He then pushed against you, forcing the door to crash open while you were forced back into your unit. And once the both of you were inside, he used his foot to shut the door behind him.

Now there would be no witnesses.

Initially, you didn't fight back. Perhaps it was shock combined with how fast it had all happened that left you pliant as he forced his way in after you. But at the sound of the slamming door you began to struggle and pull at his arm, a muffled screaming coming from beneath his palm as you tried to make as much noise as possible. And when that didn't work, you began to try your hardest to bite and scratch at him.

Shoot's left sleeve slipped off, falling to the floor.

You didn't notice the hands at first, too focused on gouging your nails into your attacker's arm to get him off of you. But you became aware when two of them grabbed ahold of your wrists and forced them away from his arm. For a brief moment, your cries stopped and you looked on in shock as you saw that you were being further restrained by a pair of floating hands.

Then you started to hyperventilate, taking in harsh breaths as you tried to comprehend the situation. Without a knowledge of nen, you couldn't understand it.

Shoot had been watching your expressions during this whole time, and when you looked up at him as the tears started to form in your eyes, he felt his resolve falter slightly.

He could stop this.

He could end this before it went any further and leave you alone. Leave the area completely and never come back, and if by some strange chance he was identified as being the one who attacked you, his Hunter status would still protect him. This could end here and there wouldn't be any affect on his life as it was right now.

For you, the situation was one that was terrifying and the aftermath would leave you shaken and confused, but if it stopped here it would leave you relatively unharmed. All you would need to deal with would be police reports and therapy sessions, and you would no doubt have some trauma that would cause you to be more aware of your surroundings, but that would be it.

Shoot could leave, and then all he would be to you was just a terrifyingly bad memory.

A bad memory....

…. And then what, you would go to your boyfriend for comfort every time that memory surfaced? Forever viewing Shoot as the monster while you stayed with a man who wasn't right for you?

Shoot's jaw clenched as he steeled himself. This needed to happen.

“I'm sorry,” he told you, “but this will be for the best.”

You were trying to shake your head 'no', trying to convince him without the use of your words that what he was doing was wrong. You were so focused on trying to appeal to him that you didn't notice the third floating hand that hovered in front of you and clenched itself into a fist.

You weren't aware of it until it slammed into your stomach.

Your eyes widened further for a moment before they fell shut, and you became limp in his grasp. Now you were unconscious, something he was grateful for as Shoot had no desire for you to be awake as he began the process of placing you within Hotel Rafflesia. There was now a hole of black mist in the area where he had hit you, and when the hands on your wrists squeezed hard to cause just enough pain to meet his requirements, those areas of your body also disappeared, replaced by the black mist while they were sent to the birdcage that stood next to him.

No, you didn't need to see any of that.

Minutes later and now Shoot was the only figure standing in the apartment, his heart still beating wildly, this time from the knowledge that he'd actually done it. He had you. Not that he was in any position to be celebrating; he could still be discovered if he hung around here too long. Best to leave sooner rather than later.

But as he picked up his sleeve that had fallen earlier, his attention went back to the small cage before him. Hotel Rafflesia now housed all of you, and you were now sprawled out on the floor of the cage. You would likely be out for some time. That was what Shoot hoped for, at least. You hadn't understood his conjured hands from earlier, and you definitely wouldn't understand if you woke up while still being trapped in his ability. It would be for the best if you slept through all of that.

You'd be sore all over when you woke up, but all the injuries you'd gotten from him would be easily healed.

Less easy would be the state you would be in mentally, but he chose not to think about that for now. That would be a bridge Shoot would cross when he came to it.

As for now, he needed to leave.

With the cage and his conjured hands hidden within the long cloth of his sleeve, he quietly shut the apartment door behind him before heading back towards the stairs. He couldn't hear anything odd coming from any of the units he passed by as he descended, no signs that anyone noticed something amiss. A majority of them were either asleep or too focused on their morning routines to notice the slight disturbance from moments ago.

Good. That was what he'd hoped for.

When he exited the property line of the apartment complex was when Shoot allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief. He had gotten you out without incident, though he was well aware that it was still too early to celebrate. You were now out of the apartment, and now he needed to get you out of the city, preferably before you woke up.

That part would be easier, all things considered, as it would take a bit of time before anyone was aware that you were missing. He knew for certain that you weren't expected anywhere until the early afternoon, and even if you had made plans to meet up with anyone for immediately after your 'interview', he still had plenty of time to leave before any alarm could be raised on that front. It would all work in his favor.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he remembered the way you looked at him before he knocked you out. The terrified look in your eyes as you started to cry, convinced that he was going to do something horrible to you.

…. In fairness, you weren't wrong – he had hurt you. But he did it because he needed to. Not just as a way to keep you from the other man, but because things couldn't continue as they were any longer. He couldn't keep watching you and doing nothing as you went on with your life, but he couldn't imagine leaving you behind.

It would take some time before you could trust him, no doubt. But again, he told himself to only worry about that when the time came.

And again he told himself that when it really mattered, Shoot could go through with anything.

“Oh wow. You look… stunning.” Shoot complimented in a breathy tone of admiration.

You smiled brightly after hearing his words, feeling even cuter in the nice little black dress you wore. “Aw, thank you hun! Want me to do a spin?”

He nodded in response, giving you the okay to show yourself off. You then spun in a circle a couple of times, your heels clicking on the floor while you let your nice coverup fall past your shoulders to show off the neckline and bring it all together. Shoot was mesmerised by your beauty and gawked at your whole form, though he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander a little and sneak a few extra glances at your backside when you spun.

“Hey, don’t think I didn’t see where you were looking hun~” You teased, having caught sight of where exactly his gaze was directed.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to…” He replied sheepishly, looking at the ground.

“I’m kidding! Oh my gosh you’re so cute~” You laughed, shrugging your cover back onto your shoulders and approaching him. “I don’t mind one bit. Now c’mon! We’re gonna be late for our reservation!”

Eased by your words, he looked back at you shyly, still enchanted by your appearance. “You’re right. Though I do feel a little under-dressed in comparison to you…”

“Oh nonsense! Come, put this jacket on and you;ll be all set.” You encouraged, reaching out to grab his rather nice double breasted jacket from the couch and sling it over his shoulders. “See! You look rather fantastic yourself~”

He took his turn to smile from your compliment and sighed, slipping his arms through the sleeves. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Perhaps? Of course I am! Now let’s go~!”

You playfully grabbed Shoot’s hand and dragged him outside while you ordered a cab with an app on your phone, excited to get the night started. Of course you had to let him go so he could lock the door, and in that short time your ride had already come. Both of you were whisked away in a matter of minutes, and your night could finally begin.

At dinner, it was as wonderful as anticipated. Low lighting, wonderful music, and excellent food to satisfy your palate. It was a divine date night, and both of you were as happy as ever to have some time like this together. Everything was perfect… just like your butt.

Once again Shoot found himself staring at your butt every time you got up to go to the bathroom or to stretch. The way your dress hugged your body had his eyes locked on you like a heat seeking missile. He couldn’t help it. You were just so damn fine that he had to sneak a few more glances at any chance he could. He did that as often as he could until dinner was over and you both paid your bills, exiting the establishment. Shoot was about to hail a cab to get you both back to his place, but you stopped him.

“Hey, let’s walk back! The evening air is so nice and it’s not that far. We only cabbed here in the first place cause we were almost late, so we can take our time now!” You suggested.

“Ah, sure! It’s only about a twenty minute walk anyway.” He nodded.

You skipped with glee, still riding on serotonin from how sweet your night had already been and pranced on ahead with Shoot in tow. Your heels clicked pleasantly on the sidewalk as the two of you made your way back home, loving the damn evening air and all the earthy smells it brought despite being in the city. As you went though, you were always just a little bit ahead of Shoot, and his eyes once again began to wander lower. He did this for a while, and only once his home was in sight did you turn to speak with him, catching him in the act.

“Ooo, are you staring at my ass again~<?” You teased.

“I-I… N-no I was just… zoned out.” Shoot tried to explain.

“Liar~. So what I’m getting from this is you’re an ass man then huh~” You went on, pulling him closer to you on his front doorstep.

“O-oh… S–shush.” He mumbled, looking to the side.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s okay~. You can hold it if you want to. I mean, it’s your ass too, y’know~” You hummed.

With your encouraging words and the way you tugged on his coat, Shoot pulled you away from his door after a moment of contemplation and kissed you deeply. His hand took a very obvious route for your ass and grasped it firmly, earning a muffled little yelp and giggle from your lips. You slung your arms around his shoulders to support yourself and leaned into him, delighted by the turn he suddenly took/ Now that you had given him permission he really let you know how he felt, and you could slowly feel your dress riding up.

“Shoot, perhaps we should go inside.” you suggested when you had the chance.

“You’re right. M’sorry.” He mumbled, still not letting you go.

Shoot used his nen hands to push the front door open so he could always keep his main hand on you, refusing to let you go. When the door was finally opened he pushed you gently inside, the warmth being a nice change from the brisk night air. It wasn’t long until he had you both toppling onto the couch, joyous laughter leaving both of you.

“Shoot! My, what has gotten into you?” You giggled.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it.” He mused playfully, kissing you all over.

You see him there. Standing in front of the store window. He doesn’t do anything, just stares until you notice him before disappearing into the crowded city streets. You can’t help but be shocked. He’d been gone for years, leaving you to wallow in your misery and self doubt.

Four hours left in your shift and you didn’t have to guess where you’d find him. Probably in the same place he always was when he decided to show up again. Every minute you stood there, greeting customers and cleaning up after them you couldn’t help but the think of what you’d actually say to him.

What you wanted was to yell, to scream until your voice left you. Maybe you’d quietly tell him to leave and never come back. But you’d done all of that before. No matter what you had to put your foot down. You shouldn’t have let it continue for so long anyway.

-

Four hours later and your hunch was correct. Door still locked, he sat right at your kitchen table nonchalantly leaning back as if he belonged there. At one point he did, but the memory of it alone is enough to make your chest ache.

“What is it Shoot?” You sigh, dropping your bag and keys on the table. You follow suit, dropping into a chair to sit across from him.

He’s quiet as you sit down, hand fiddling with the material of his shirt. Nervous habit, you knew all too well how hard they were to break.

“Why are you so upset?” And he asks it as if there’s nothing wrong. Like it was normal for him to be here. Your irritation was only growing as you stared at the man in front of you.

“What a stupid question.” You mumble, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. Before you have time to react he’s crushing it between his fingers, eyes trained on you while he speaks

“I thought you stopped smoking.” It’s almost a question and his eyes are full of concern.

“Believe it or not, a lot changes when you’re not here. My life keeps moving without you.”

“Ah” he says, as if he’s finally realizing it.

“Do you think I might’ve changed since we last met?” You give him a once over, shaking your head ‘no’ before he continues.

“Maybe you can’t see it.” His eyes are guarded as he waits for your reaction. You know what this is before he even has time to finish. He was trying to sway you, make you believe he was different and let him stay for the night. And in the morning you’d be alone again.

“Ah..” you sigh, mimicking him. With a nod of your head, you pretend to play along.

“How many hours are you going to be a changed man?” You cross your arms “One? Two? Are you going to at least wait until I fall asleep this time?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, finally letting an emotion play across his face. Irritation. How ironic. “Why do you have to be so -“

“You’re the one who decided to leave, Shoot.”

“And you always let me come back.” he says calmly. “How do you think I feel?” There’s guilt in his eyes, as if he means to say that  he knows the pain he’s caused and that it’s eating him alive. But the way it sounds when it hits your ears is that because you accepted him over and over again, you’ve caused him unnecessary grief. His words are enough to make you overlook the sad expression lingering on his face.

“Oh no... don’t you sit there and try to blame this on me! You left. I didn’t. Don’t make yourself out to be the victim here Shoot! I didn’t fuck up your emotions. That was all you!” There’s a pause as he stares at you. That’s how he always was. Always so composed but you could tell what he was thinking nonetheless.

“That’s not what I was trying to do” and there’s this resolve in his voice, as if he’s accepted the fact that this isn’t going in the direction he wanted it to.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes before responding. “Well, what were you trying to do then?”

And you know the your next words are harsh, but after years of holding your tongue you don’t care to mince your words for his benefit. He pauses to consider your question and that’s when you say it “Or do you not want to talk about it like usual? It’s just too fucking difficult you’re gunna have to run away like you always do, right?”

All he does is grit his teeth. But it’s that reaction alone tells you the most. Like the flip of a switch, anger swallowed any sadness that was left on his face, and that was enough to prove him right. He wasn’t the person who left you all those years ago. You lean back in your chair with a sigh, choosing to ignore the tension in the room and his piercing gaze. No, this wasn’t the same Shoot. he should’ve left by now. But you know old dogs rarely learn new tricks. Just because he learned a new one didn’t mean he was the type of man to stay. He’d proven that time and time again.

“The doors open, Shoot.”

You rub your temples. This exchange has already dragged on far too long and the exhaustion you felt earlier from work was slowly returning to you.

He chuckles, it’s something dark and it makes your eyes snap open to look at him. He looks relaxed, like he’d finally gotten what he came for. But there’s tension hidden in his body. The loose fabric of his clothes couldn’t hide that.

“You always liked to hear yourself talk.”

And he says it as if he hasn’t been gone for years. Says it like you’re willing to concede if he just pushes hard enough. If he pressed the right buttons. It makes your stomach turn. Not again. You were done with this game.

“Yeah and look what good that did me.” You counter his laugh with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “All that begging and I still ended up alone.”

You get up before you have time to see his reaction. it’s over, you shouldn’t care about the sting your words would leave him with. Slowly you move behind him to the balcony, letting your arms hold you tight, as if to keep yourself from falling apart.

You were too tired to be angry, too exhausted to bicker with him much longer. Yes, you loved him. Loved him since you were kids and that’s why you knew better than anyone that his word meant nothing. He was a man of inaction, it was in his nature to flee at the first sign of a fight. And after all these years, you loved him even though he was nothing but a coward.

You could give in tonight and wake up with an empty bed in the morning, or save yourself the heartache and make him leave right now.

The view on the balcony wasn’t bad for how cheap this place was. City stretched before you, lights and people converging as if it was just one giant organism. The sun was setting but, in a place like this there was rarely any peace. People scurried like ants, darting around as they quickly made their way home, to work, to restaurants and clubs. This big city with all these people and he still managed to find the one he was looking for. All so he could satisfy his guilt while paying no mind to how you felt. Yeah, It was time.

“The door, Shoot. It was nice catching up but I have work in the morning.” It’s quiet but you know he’s heard you.

There’s some shuffling as he gets up and you don’t let yourself turn around to see him leave again. You know what it looks like and you know the emotion that would climb it’s way out of your chest if you saw it one more time.

What you don’t expect is the feeling of his chest pressing against your back. The warmth there enough to make you release a quiet gasp. You were almost positive he would’ve taken the opportunity to leave. His arm pulls you closer as the words leave his lips.

“I’m sorry”

“I’ve heard it.” You snap, willing the anger and frustration back down your throat. “I’ve heard the ‘I love you’s and the promises to change before, Shoot. I’ve heard it all.” You can’t help it when your voice cracks, or the tears that start sliding down your face.

“Just save it and leave. Don’t make it even harder for me.”

He turns you around and he’s wearing this expression you haven’t seen on him before. You’d call it determination, that was the only thing you could describe it as, but there was something else there too.

His movements are slow and you can already tell where this is headed. In a few moments his lips are on yours, fingers tight against your chin holding you in place. You try to fight it, try to pull away but he can tell that the effort is half hearted and it only spurs him on even more. If you truly didn’t want it you would’ve stopped him earlier.

After a few seconds you give in to the taste of his mouth mixed with tears. It’s warm, it’s familiar and you can’t help but lean into it. You know it’s wrong but it’s too late to stop. When he finally lets you go you’ve shattered in his grasp. Resolve broken, there’s nothing left to hold back the flood of emotion that’s built up inside of you for years.

“I hate you!” You scream. And you hope beyond anything that the same man who would leave is still in there. You could pick up the pieces later but if he stayed it’d only be worse once he was gone. You try to push him away, tears soaking your shirt as you shove against his unforgiving chest.

“I hate you.. I hate you.” The words slowly fizzle into sobs that wrack through your body. Shoot only pulls you closer, arm coming to fit snug against your waist.

“I’m not leaving, y/n. Huh? Look at me. I’m not leaving.”

You can barely see through the tears flooding your eyes but it’s there. That resoluteness etched deep within the lines of his face. You prayed it was deep enough for him to have changed, you prayed it was shallow enough for him to leave for the final time and spare the ache in your heart. You prayed to be free of this cycle.

You lean into his chest, immediately soaking the fabric there. Your voice is a whisper when you finally speak again.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You don’t speak, don’t react as he lifts you up and carries you inside. How long has it been since he was here? In your apartment? Your bedroom? You don’t remember, but it feels like a thousand lifetimes ago.

Soft kisses litter your pliant body as soon as he lays you on the bed. It’s different than the usual way he’s done it. Something tender flows through him and into you with each press of his mouth. Maybe he can sense that you’ve given up. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to fight it, you always ended up underneath him.

But there’s something so guilt free about the way he undresses you, lays you before him and gives a kiss to your mound. his touch is far sweeter than what you’ve come to expect. Before, he’d rush quickly through the act to outrun the guilt that slowly built up inside of him. But now, he takes his time, savoring every minute he can as his mouth sucks bruises into your hips. your thighs. There’s a tender moment before he buries his face between your them, quickly licking a stripe up your center before stopping to suck on your sensitive clit. Once he has a taste he can’t stop himself from taking what he came for. He doesn’t have the patience to.

Whimpers mix with the sobs that leave your throat. You could never help the way your body responded to his touch, couldn’t help the way slick dripped down your thighs at the mere thought of his mouth on you. And he doesn’t let any of it go to waste, lapping up everything you have to offer him. He’s starved, and now was his chance to have as much as he wanted.

He had been selfish, he knew that. But as much as he was giving right now he was aware of how much he was taking. This was no different. Your body underneath his. Legs tight around him as he ate his fill and then some, not stopping when you arched against him. A broken wail leaves your throat. No, he was still selfish. He needed all of you, every last drop.

There’s no break, no rest as he pushes you over the edge. You can tell he’s not trying to make up for lost time. He couldn’t change the past or the mistakes he’d made along the way. It wasn’t guilt either. No sadness in his face or in his movements against you. It was a desperate need that drove him, nothing more. You’d never seen this much of him. Still fully clothed, he left his heart lying naked on the sheets for you to see. It’s so overwhelming that it makes your head spin. Coupled with the orgasm still rushing through your body, it was enough to make you go limp beneath him. Before you know it, he’s lifting his mouth off of you, giving you respite from the pleasure for only a few seconds. Shoot kneels between your open legs as he deftly pushes two fingers deep within your cunt.

It’s indescribable. You hadn’t felt this good in such a long time, the pleasure of your last orgasm still so fresh that his thumb moving against your clit bordered on painful.

“I love you” and he says it like it’s not a mere feeling, but an absolute fact. His eyes bore into you, stern expression on his face as he fucks his digits in and out of your soaked core. He feels it. The clench around him as he says it. There’s no denying what his words are doing.

“Stop it Shoot.” The tears come back again with a vengeance as you cover your face with your arm. He speeds up, thumb brushing quicker at the bud hidden between your folds.

“I love you y/n”  and there’s this conviction in his voice you can’t ignore. But you know better. Sobs shake your body as you clench tight around him again. If he kept it up you weren’t going to last very long.

He’s moving, determined expression still on his face as he kisses his way up your stomach to your chest, nipping at a pert nipple before giving the same attention to the other. His lips are on your neck, sucking and biting dark bruises into your sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to say it. You’ve done enough for me sweetheart.”

His warm mouth presses against the hollow of your neck before continuing.

“Just come for me okay?”

You can’t help but to obey. You whine as your body tightens around him before it suddenly lets go. All the pain, the hurt, the betrayal is forgotten as he works his tongue into your mouth, taking every noise you make for himself. It’s mind numbing and the wind is knocked from you at the sheer force of it. You move your arm to fist the sheets underneath you, an electric current still pulsing through your veins as he stills his digits inside and switches to just lazily rubbing your clit in circles.

Shoot watches with rapture at the pleasure on your face, eyes red with tears and lips swollen from his mouth. He wanted more. Wanted to take everything you could give him and then some. To make you cry with pleasure as he pushed your body to it’s limits. But this night wasn’t for him and he was aware that you had given everything you could. It wasn’t about what he wanted. So he pulls his fingers out and undresses, shushing you when you start to tell him you can’t, your too tired. “I don’t want that” he whispers.

Looking over the stump of a bicep he had left, he felt a little sad. It wasn’t often he thought about his lack of arm, but when he did, it was always negative. The disadvantage that came with missing an arm wasn’t what really bothered him though, and it was rather the lack of normalcy that hurt him instead. He was plenty strong and skilled already, so that wasn’t an issue. The simple things he wished he could do that everyone else could was the real kicker: that simple thing being to hold you. 

He hovered one of his nen hands out to sit where his hand normally would if it were attached to flesh, moving it around in sync to mimic his other arm. The gap between his arm and hand of course remained ever prevalent, and he sighed, silently wishing it wasn’t this way.

“Hey babe! I’m here and I brought snacks!” Your voice blared out, snapping him out of his daze. 

Shoot got quite the startle when you barged in through his front door,  not expecting you to have shown up so soon. He did message you to come by for a visit, but neither of you really specified a time, so your sudden appearance was rightfully a little jarring to him. When the initial shock eventually wore off, he sighed, and properly greeted you. 

“Hey there sweetie. You really scared the hell outta me, I’ll admit.” He huffed. 

“Sorry~! I figured coming now would be better than later, so here I am!” You laughed, scurrying into his kitchen to set down your bag of snacks. “So, real quick, what were you up to when I walked in? I’m curious!”

He didn’t think you had noticed his longing little activity and choked up a bit, not really wanting to ramble on about his insecurities and talk your poor ear off about such a silly thing. 

“Ah, it was nothing, really.” Shoot insisted. 

You were not fooled though. After ensuring that you got everything put away you marched yourself on over to him and stood before where he sat, a sympathetic look in your eyes. 

“I saw. You were thinking about what it would be like if you didn’t lose your arm, weren’t you?” You asked softly. 

“I… Yeah. I was.” He sighed, knowing that it was impossible to hide anything from you. 

“Babe, please tell me you weren’t thinking negatively of yourself…” You questioned further, hoping that he wasn’t as you took a seat next to him on the couch.

“I unfortunately was.” He mumbled, caught in his moment. 

“Why though, hun? Since we started dating, you’ve usually been quite content with yourself, so what happened?” You asked. 

“My thoughts can’t help but to wander sometimes. Today I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d probably be better overall if I was… well, complete. I know you love me, but… I still feel like I could be better for you. If I had both of my arms, I could hold you for real. I could give you a proper hug and hold you even tighter to me… closer to me…” He mumbled, looking upset once again. 

Knowing that he was thinking such things pained you. You of course planned on doing something about that, crawling up on his lap and making sure he looked directly at you. With your hands placed firmly on his shoulders, you let out a sigh and gave him an honest yet stern look. 

“Well, at least you got one thing right: I do love you. But I think you need to work on loving yourself as much as I do.” You said softly. “Screw what anyone else thinks. I think you’re great just as you are.”

This made Shoot laugh, that sad look slowly melting away as your praise replaced his thoughts. 

“I can try to, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love myself as much as you can. I may need a bit of help with that one.” He chuckled, looking at you lovingly. 

“Now that I can do.” You hummed. “Just promise me you won’t think so negatively of yourself anymore.”

“I promise.” He nodded. 

Happy with that as his promise, you slid one hand down to gently trace the star tattoo on his shoulder before leaning in to press a kiss to it, lingering with care to make sure he knew for sure that you loved the parts of him he hated. Carrying on, you located and brought each of his nen hands close to yourself and kissed the tops of their knuckles before taking his one good hand in yours and kissing it as well, trailing your lips up his arms and getting closer to his neck. He hummed when you pressed yourself up against him and trailed your kisses up his neck, his arm sliding around your waist as your lips finally found his. Your hands came up to rest around his neck and play with any loose strands of hair once you made yourself comfortable, relaxing into the feeling. 

Now he knew your kisses were always wonderful, but there was something about this one that had him more lost in your touch than usual. It could be your insistence on how perfect he was to you, or maybe the way you gently caressed all his available skin; but whatever it was he felt right at home with the only thought in his mind containing you. He gripped at your hip needily while you caressed his pink cheek with care, giving him all you had until you finally broke away from each other. 

“I love all of you, Shoot. Not one part of you is flawed to me, so you better start acting like it. Be proud of yourself babe, because I sure as hell am.” You spoke softly, resting your forehead against his.

“I’ll definitely work on that. You make everything seem so much more possible.” He smiled with glowing cheeks. 

“And for the record, your hugs are the best I’ve ever had. I’m always at my happiest when I’m being held by you.” You added on. 

“You always know just what to say, don’t you? I can’t believe you’re mine.” He chuckled. 

“Well you better believe it because I’m sticking with you until the day I die.” You laughed, planting a quick kiss on his nose.