#I guess its pretty old that i edit this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koqabear · 5 months

Text

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal.

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child.

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside.

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together.

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with.

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick.

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there.

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set.

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves.

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you.

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice.

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile.

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning.

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies.

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can.

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you.

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods.

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching.

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own.

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you.

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly.

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies.

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye.

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out.

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully.

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent.

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket.

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him.

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with.

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in a feeble way to distract yourself.

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought.

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly.

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion.

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches.

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off.

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point.

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger.

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.”

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed.

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms.

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look.

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely.

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much.

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses.

“I’m here to protect you.”

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water.

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile.

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him.

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown.

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all.

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own.

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long.

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.”

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.”

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man.

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps.

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home.

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror.

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots.

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse.

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement.

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left.

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear.

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them.

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls.

“Get out.”

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu— to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself.

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard.

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it.

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds.

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom.

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face.

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?”

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off.

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly.

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body.

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale.

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end.

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you.

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage.

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open.

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him.

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view.

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct.

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill.

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display.

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down.

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?”

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you.

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning.

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely.

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.”

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you.

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more.

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.”

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate.

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?”

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation.

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly.

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?”

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight.

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response.

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils.

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly.

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest.

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches.

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles.

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you.

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit.

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection.

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you.

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt.

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations.

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?”

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you.

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight.

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp.

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts.

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence.

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.”

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.”

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.”

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra:

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks.

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.”

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied.

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.”

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt.

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want.

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure.

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own.

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly.

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words.

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation.

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck.

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you.

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other.

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough.

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into.

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within.

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

862 notes · View notes

seiishindraws · 9 months

Note

I noticed when looking super close at your line art that the there's slight red green and blue on the sides of the lines like an old 80s anime and i think that's super cool! How do you do it?

oh, that's chromatic aberration! i guess you could say its a kind of colour/visual distortion.

it's pretty simple to do, but i usually just use a csp auto action to do it for me to make things go quicker, but i can teach you how to do it manually in most programs.

i'm going to use this silly doodle of me as pompompurin as an example lol

youre gonna wanna merge everything onto a single separate layer first and then we're gonna work with that merged layer. make two copies of that merged layer so you have three of them in total.

the top merged layer will be our red layer, so youre going to want to got to EDIT > Tonal Correction > Level Correction

the level correction graph will pop up. since the top layer will be our red one, select the green level and drag the rightmost arrow on the Output scale all the way to the leftmost side. do the same for the blue level.

the image should be red like this afterwards.

the middle layer is going to be our blue layer so do the same thing we did for the top layer except youre going to reduce the green and red levels instead, and the middle layer should be all blue like this.

for the bottom layer, it will be our green layer. same process as before, reduce the red and blue levels so its all green.

your layers should be looking like this now

from here, you want to set the layer modes of the red and blue layers to Screen, DON'T do the same for the bottom green layer though. you'll notice once you've done that, the image will look normal again!

from here, all you need to do is shift the red layer in one direction, and the blue layer in another, to as much of an extent you want. the further they are from each other, the more drastic the effect will be

and that's how you do it! my other personal tip would be to add a layer of noise set to Overlay or Soft Light at a lowered opacity over the drawing bc it goes well with the aberration, or even sharpen the image.

if you dont want to do all that hard work though and you happen to have clip studio paint, just use an auto action, like this one!:

https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1713222

anyway i hope that helps? ^^;;;

#art tips #clip studio paint #ask #tea-n-ink #tutorial #chromatic aberration

648 notes · View notes

arachine · 1 year

Text

cross-court . . . (๑>◡๑)

synopsis :: after a long day of patrolling, bakugou wants nothing more than to unwind by taking his furry companion on a stroll near the park. what he doesn’t expect, though, is to run into you. genre :: mature warnings :: smut (18+), characters are in their mid-twenties, phone sex, bakugo is lowkey a creep, maybe just a tiny bit of a loser, mentions of alcohol word count:: 3.7 k note:: this is a really old fic that i edited a bit. couldn’t be asked to edit it further! just wanted to get smth out >_<

The soreness in his bones is definitive proof of a hard day's work. He’d been summoned earlier that afternoon to patrol the perimeter of Kyushu (well, he was asked to pick up a shift for Kirishima and felt obligated to comply), and hadn’t caught a break since. Bakugou expected this much, though. The days and nights were growing warmer, which could only mean that there’d be a significant increase in crime—to his disdain.

Although he spent most of the day chasing down criminals, there was currently only one thing occupying his mind. And if he could successfully (and quickly) get to his apartment without any obstacles, then he’d have a little more time to see…you.

He’s not exactly sure when he first noticed you. It’s something that he tries to recall often, but he only ever comes up short, ultimately guessing that you were always there in the background on the days he wasn’t paying attention. The earliest memory of you—and the only one he can vividly remember—is sometime last spring. There you were at the community tennis court, with your racket in hand, dashing gracefully across the cement and skillfully obstructing your opponent’s strokes.

If it were any other day, sure, he might’ve paid you no mind, but the way your eyes gleamed with determination—like you were certain that you’d win—is what made his stare linger a little longer. Your force on the court was fierce, and care-free, and all encompassing, and if he had a say, he’d say that you were in your own little bubble. So, that’s what he associates you with now. Spring. The season that brought warmth, and clear skies, and cool breezes, and cherry blossoms.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is short, just as short as the conversation he had with the pro hero who happened to enter the elevator with him. He responds to their attempts at small talk with half-hearted grunts, and sometimes he says nothing at all. Honestly, he doesn’t know why people even bother. Soon, the elevator arrives on his floor with a ding, and he exits without saying a word.

“Yeah I—oh! Have a good day, Dynamite. Nice tal-” T he elevator shuts before they can finish their sentence.

As soon as he jiggles his keys in front of the door, his ears pick up the familiar sound of heavy paws and excited barks that belong to his furry companion. Instantly, he’s greeted with slobbery kisses and licks.

“Alright already…y’damn mutt,” Bakugou hisses, pretending to hate the affection, “quit actin’ like I haven't seen ya in days.” After a minute or two of playing around, he kisses his teeth to call the dog over to where he stands with its collar and leash.

“Where are we going? Are we going on a walk, girl?” he smoothes a hand over her coat after adjusting the collar around her neck, “we gonna see that pretty girl? Hm, Nala? Yeah we fucking are. Let’s go.”

He takes this route often just to see you. It’s pathetic, really, and it’s also embarrassingly far from his apartment complex. Makes him feel like one of those creeps who frequent the park to get a glimpse at you—which was what he was kinda already doing—albeit, he liked to persuade himself into thinking his intentions were of pure heart.

At first, he told himself that he just liked watching you because you were good. You were strong, and fast—quick on your toes and quick with your words. Sometimes, he’d pick up on the shit talking between you and your opponents, and he’d laugh. All low and hearty, nodding his head like he was on the receiving end of the jab. But then he realized one day how odd he must’ve appeared to passerbyers like himself who probably witnessed him laughing along.

You reminded him of himself, though. And as much as he tried to tell himself that this—or whatever this really was— was just pure and unadulterated admiration, he knew it was just bullshit. Because now he wasn’t just noticing things like your strength, and your quick-wittedness, and your drive for triumph. No, he was starting to take interest in other things—other thoughts. Thoughts that were beginning to sound a whole lot like: ‘I wonder what color panties she’s wearing’ and a lot less like ‘she’s so cool’.

Soon, every thought at the forefront of his mind was becoming sullied with fantasies of you. He was gradually becoming hyper-aware of the fact that you had a body. And yes, you had arms, and hands, and legs, and feet, and skin—in the way that everyone does—but he was starting to notice something. Your figure.

The cords of muscle in your calves (sinewy and taut, in the way that only muscles can be), your neck, the sleekness of it—a precursor to your chest, and your torso, and your ass. God, your damned ass, and your damned, stupid fucking tennis skirts. It drove him crazy. Seeing you frolick all around the court, in those little skirts that did fuck all at keeping you covered.

And as much as he wanted to pretend that seeing a flash of your cute little panties for a modicum of a second was the biggest of his concerns…He can’t. Because regardless of his faux disdain for your prancing around in tight clothes, it’s what keeps bringing him back. And he’d keep coming back. Again, and again, and again, and…again, until he worked up the nerve to say something.

Today he finds that nerve quickly. Not intentionally, unfortunately, but by force. Because today? Today the odds were working in his favor. Today his dog’s dumbass ball happened to roll a little too far in your court. Far enough for it to roll all the way under the gate and to your feet, presenting itself like a silver platter.

Fucking great, he thinks. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to talk to you, at least not today. But today wasn’t just a day; today was the worst of days, and shit was hitting the fan fare more than he would’ve liked. He’s pulled from his reverie when Nala gets the bright idea to run after the ball, and before he notices, she’s already up and tackling you over.

So much for first impressions. He’d damn her straight to hell if he could (he wouldn’t), but then he figures he ought to thank his furry companion for piquing your interest because instead of freaking out (like a normal person would after being tackled by an unaccompanied dog), you receive her with open arms. All pets and giggles, praises and kisses. Nice, Nala.

Now he’s standing there awkwardly, making that one ultra-specific face that owners make when their pets get loose and they don’t know whether to run pathetically after them or let them wreak havoc. Yeah, that one. All he can muster is a slanted smile and a wave of his hand, though from this far, he supposes he just looks weird.

In a last-ditch attempt, he tries to lure Nala back to where he stands, but to no avail. She’s enamored with you. Giving you paws and kisses, exposing her tummy to you, wagging her tail–but most importantly she’s ignoring him! Maybe he would damn her to hell.

“Phwt, Nala,” he whistles, rather badly, “stop ignoring me y’damned traitor. I’m your owner. You’re supposed to listen to me…” The last bit comes out in a whisper reserved for himself, but he guesses he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was, because now you’re making eye contact and rising from your haunches.

Fuck, you were coming.

You jog over to where he stands stupidly in his tracks, yelling a loud, “hey, is this your dog?” from across the court. When you get within his proximity, he thinks you’re stretching your hand out to greet him (to which he offers his own), but your limb strategically misses his, and he freezes as he watches you drop the ball in his hand. The blond feels stupid, but he quickly fixes his composure, forcing a stiff smile on his face, trying not to gag at the amount of slobber on his hand.

“Sorry about that, I get a little carried away whenever a dog’s around” you confess, looking down amicably at the furry giant. Bakugou shakes his head in response, mumbling a cool ‘it’s fine’ under his breath. You’re the first to initiate small talk—a pleasantry he finds vexing—but he finds himself hyper-fixating a little too hard on your lips that are spewing words of triviality. Every now and then, he remembers to nod his head, and then he subconsciously tells you his name when the question arises.

His irises shift from your plump lips, to the dip in your collarbone, and then finally, they settle on the dew droplets of sweat that trickle down your chest. The pro hero notices that he hasn’t heard a damn thing you’ve said for the entire duration of this conversation. But now you’re looking at him, and your lips aren’t moving, and fuck, you were definitely waiting for a response.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

It takes him a second to register you’ve said something, and then it takes him another second to register if what he heard was truly what you’d said.

“I'm sorry, what?” he queries, wrapping the leash around his hand once, then twice.

“I asked if you wanted to exchange numbers?” you smile innocently, holding your phone out.

“I've seen you and this pretty girl,” you start, bending down to pet the excited pup, “walking around for a while, and I figured…I don’t know—that I could play around with her some time. you know, if that’s alright with you…”

Oh, so he must’ve heard you wrong the first time, he thinks. Looking down at his pup, the two make eye contact briefly before the furry companion barks in approval, wagging its tail eagerly.

“Yeah, sure,” he nods and gestures for you to hand over your phone. After he punches his digits into your phone, you’re quick to exchange your phone for his, undergoing the same process of punching in little numbers.

When the two of you part ways, he opens his phone again to look at your contact. A small chuckle leaves his lips once he sees the name you saved your number under.

“Tennis girl,” he whispers to himself.

The door to his apartment swings open swiftly, and he unclasps the leash around the dog’s neck before meandering over to the fridge to grab a beer. The first sip is pure elation. He doesn't drink everyday, but he likes to keep a case of this liquid-gold relief at his disposable.

Before he can indulge in another sip, his phone buzzes with a notification. Nobody usually has the balls to bother him after his shifts, but he doesn’t think much of it. Not until it buzzes for a second time, then a third, and now he’s agitated enough to rest his drink on the counter.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethes, clobbering over to his room where he threw his phone. The screen flashes brightly from across the room and then fades to black. “Who the fuc—“

He taps the screen to see one message, two image attachments, and a voice memo, all from you. Skeptically, he opens his phone and clicks on your contact to see the messages. The first message says ‘figured you might like these’ and then his vermillion eyes flicker over to the two pictures.

One is angled low enough to show the bottom of your ass, and the other is of you bent over with your hand pushing your panties to the side, cunt front and center, and dripping. Your face isn’t in either, but he knows it’s you because of that damned skirt.

The longer he stares at the pictures, the more his face riddles with confusion, and the more his sweats become impossibly uncomfortable to be in. Then he remembers the voice memo. There's a brief silence before a familiar voice begins to speak. It's low and breathy.

“You know—shit—you’re so fucking clueless. I've s-seen you ogling me for months, and t-today I caught you staring at my chest,” he’s almost certain he can see you playing with your pussy with the lewd sounds that are coming through his phone.

“I asked if you w-wanted to fuck, but you were—fuck—were too caught up in being a p-pervert. Guess you missed your chance...”

The voice note ends there. He utters a few proclivities into the air, sighing frustratedly as he falls back into the marshmallowy plush comforter of his bed. The tightness in his pants is annoying, really fucking annoying, but the dull ache in his cock is much more convincing than the small voice in his head.

Fumbling to untie the drawstrings, he quickly pulls his sweats, along with his boxers, down to rest at the apex of his thighs. His cock is heavy against his abdomen, the mushroomy head burning scarlet and dripping with silk. God, he hated how easily he had fallen victim to your trickery. He was observant, and quick-witted, and could generally tell when a chick wanted to sleep with him.

But this? He’d never expected this. Or whatever this really was. He'd watched you from afar all these months, overheard your many idle conversations with friends as you tied your tennis shoes on the bench, and he often caught glimpses of the smile that graced your face whenever you scored a point. You were innocent, then. at least, that’s the conclusion he came to after clandestinely peering into fleeting moments of your life—but now he figures that’s what you wanted him to see, allowed him to see.

Bakugou's heart begins to thump a little faster with each firm tug to his length, the fixed lub-dub murmur of the organ now something completely unrecognizable. Just as he’s about to shut his eyes, he sees a flash of white from his peripheral view. It’s another text from you.

tennis girl: left me on read :(

tennis girl: you touching yourself rn?

The boy huffs out a breath and throws his head back, continuing his ruthless ministrations on his aching cock. His ears perk up to the sound of yet another notification.

tennis girl: want some help ;)

“The fuck?” His eyes narrow into slits as he reads the message, but he’s too concerned with finishing to respond. When he thinks you’ve finally given up, you once again, prove him wrong. Instead of a few intermittent buzzes, his phone now rings irksomely. You’re requesting a facetime call. He stares at his reflection on the phone, uncertain if he should indulge you or finish without your ‘help’, as you put it, but impulsively picks it up.

The camera is already flipped once the call goes through. You’re sitting on your bed with your legs spread, and a dildo nestled in your cunt. He hears the creak of the bed as your body thrashes and contorts from pleasure, and he hears the pretty moans that spill from your mouth. Of course, you’re the first to break the silence.

“‘M so wet ‘cause of you,” your voice is sultry and sweet, “couldn’t wait to get home ’n touch myself…wanna touch you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks, you can’t really see him in the dimness of his room, but you know there’s mischief laced in his voice. “Y’wanna touch me? What would you do?” Bakugou squeezes his girth just before bringing a cupped hand to his mouth to spit.

“Go on, tell me, and then I'll tell y’what I've been dying to do to you for months,” he flips the camera, smoothing the warm spit down his length.

“Been thinkin’ about taking you to my apartment since i first saw you,” you bring the dildo out momentarily, “and you fucking me like this,” you slam the silicone back into your cunt. The dildo wasn’t nearly as big as he was, but the sight of it disappearing in and out of you made his dick jump pathetically.

“That all, princess?” he mocks, like he’s unimpressed by your reply. You vehemently shake your head but realize he can’t see your face, so you open your mouth again to speak.

“No…I think a lot about sucking you off too,” you confess, “and how bad I want you to finish down my throat.”

“So this whole time you’ve been thinking about me like this? What a dirty little slut,” he breathes, a light chuckle leaving his wet, bitten lips.

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh?” Your eyes flutter closed so that you can hone in on his words.

“For starters,” he says matter-of-factly, “you might wanna get a bigger dildo, ‘cause my dick’s a lot bigger than that.”

“Really?” you pull the dildo out of your cunt and opt to use your fingers instead, resting the cold pads on the swell of your clit. Slowly, you circle the flesh, a few whimpers emitting from your throat.

“Yeah, it’d—shit—stretch you out b-better too,” his breathing quickens as he begins to reach his peak. “Been wantin’ to dump my load in that pretty little cunt for a minute.”

“What else?” there’s curiosity nestled under your tongue. You wanna say more to coax him on but find it rather difficult to form a coherent thought.

“‘Bout your thighs wrapped ‘round my head, and stuffing you full of my fingers,” Bakugou’s calloused grip is tighter now, sloppier. You assume from his occasional grunts and curses that he’s close to finishing, and judging by your intermittent pants, he comes to the conclusion that you are too.

With determination, you continue your brutal ministrations on your clit, the nub wholly numb and engorged beneath your fingertips. For a second, you almost forget about the man’s presence, utterly too focused on reaching your own climax, not even paying mind to the fact that your eyes had been glued shut. The sound of slick skin, rubbing against slick skin, reverberates through your phone’s speaker. You’d like to imagine the expressions he’d make if he were here with you now. Would they be soft? Hard? Plain? Or would they be an amalgamation of each. Your imagination doesn’t get the chance to wander too far, because soon, he flips the camera towards his face, almost as if he’d heard your inner monologue.

The light in his room is still dim, save for the bits of the sun peaking through the blinds that aid in exposing half of his face. Most of his features are subdued by the darkness—all but his eyes (and his flushed cheeks)—which seem to hold so much expression in them. Even with just half of his face on display, he still looks pretty. You attempt to see if you can make out any of the rest of his features, but to no avail.

“Turn your camera around, wanna see your face,” it comes out more like a demand than a plea. You do as he says and flip your camera. When his eyes find your own, he sits up against his headboard, the second half of his face now uncovered. Seeing all of his features work harmoniously to make a lewd expression was enough to tip you over the edge, and it wasn’t helping that his open-mouthed pants were growing more and more provocative.

“S-So close, ‘m gonna come!”

“Fuck, go ahead, baby,” he weakly ruts into his fist, “Show me the face you make when you come.”

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen begin to wind tighter and tighter, the pressure on your bladder becoming almost unbearable. Your flicking and circling never falter, that is, until you press down on the spot where your bladder resides beneath, and feel an abundance of pleasure wash over you like an unruly tide. The essence that drips from your core stands out starkly against the dark linen of your bed.

Bakugou watches intently as you whimper and pant through the screen, your chest rising and falling like rose petals in the wind. Your tired, sultry eyes alone are more than enough to make him finish, but then you flip the camera to show your bed and now he’s really close.

“Look at the mess, you did this.”

“God, you’re so f-fucking dirty,” he grits through bared teeth, “Show me your pretty pussy, yeah?”

Once his vermillion eyes meet your cunt, dripping and convulsing, he reaches his peak. The boy releases a strangled moan, falling tirelessly onto his back as his cock streams liquid hot white onto the expanse of his stomach. He uses whatever energy he has left to fist the appendage a few more times, groaning into his neck once he sees the globs of cum coating his knuckles.

The gentle breeze sneaking in through the window aids in cooling down his hot skin. From the window he can see cherry blossoms dancing in the air; his heart slows as he witnesses a single petal stick to his window. Bakugou is brought back to reality upon hearing your voice.

“Hope this isn’t the last time,” your face is softer in the afternoon glow, “don’t think I’ve ever come this hard.” There’s some lingering hope hidden in the obsidian of your eyes. He can’t help but to laugh, of course this wouldn’t be the last time. Not after he’d been dreaming of this for months.

“You won’t hafta hope for nothin’, princess. Next time you’ll be gettin’ the real thing.”

The call ends promptly, and as soon as it does, you get a text.

Bakugou: Free next Friday night at 8. Come to this address.

Bakugou: xxxxx xxxxx Apt.

Your lips upturn into a mischievous smile. He has no idea…

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #:: — LEXI WRITES !

992 notes · View notes

hunbun03 · 1 year

Note

May I ask when the Jeff fic is gonna get finished?🥺

Ahh! It's finally done and hopefully not too late! ♡♡♡ I hope you enjoy my first fic of 2023!!

ℍ𝔸𝕋𝔼𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕁𝔼𝔽𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕂𝕀𝕃𝕃𝔼ℝ ♡

warning: rough rough sex, BIG DEGRADATION STUFF, hair-pulling, it’s hate sex with a murderer sooooo, pain, fat-shaming??, you domming jeff???, use of feminine names and anatomy, unwanted cream pie, nipple biting and sucking, lot of biting, public kinda sex like you could get caught!, overall general nastiness, BARELY EDITED SMUT!

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: around 4k

ℚ𝕌𝕀ℂ𝕂 𝕃𝕀𝕃 𝔹𝕌𝕃𝕃𝔼𝕋 𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋-

Jeff is a little shit- You know it. I know it.

Sooooo He teases the absolute fuck out of you! when you two aren’t fucking or at least making out: he won’t let you hear the end of it-

“You hate me huh?” “You don’t seem to hate me slut.”

People at the mansion would never guess that you two hook up most nights- since both of you are at each other throats insulting each other for everything under the sun.

Something about the insults, the yelling and the hard grip he had on you made you wet. Made you quiver, made you want this man that you hated.

You hated this man but couldn’t truly express that while you were clawing up the counter tops, him behind you rutting into your needy cunt hard.

you both needed this release.

You still hated each other.

Y’all just needed this just this once!!your bodies took ahold of you! This would be the last night of it.

until you two did it again

and again

fine- maybe you liked it more than what you wanted to admit.

♡♡♡

ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠!! ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕣:

It was early morning in the mansion, and the sun was barely poking its head over the old windowsills; It provided enough light for you to creep through the sleeping house, the only sound was the sharp creaks of the aged wooden floor. The nerves made you walk slower and they didn't truly settle until the pads of your feet touched the almost ice-like tile of the kitchen.

The kitchen was darker than the rest of the house, it was completely devoid of the warm peeks of the sunrise due to the thick curtains. You placed your hand flat on the wall and blindly felt around for seemingly a minute while you stared into the void that was the kitchen currently. Past a certain pattern of bumps: The tip of your finger thumped into the thick light switch, and in a flash, the odd staring contest with the darkness ended.

You beelined straight for the fridge which looked worse for wear. Slenderman doesn't make any unnecessary purchases, it still worked good so why buy a prettier one. Sure, it was tough to get it open but a hefty push from your sleep-riddled arms was just enough for this morning.

The buzzing lightbulb in the fridge made you press your eyes tight together and squeezed the remaining sleep out of them. Once again you were back in the dark, giving your eyes time to adjust from the soft light of the peeking sun and the sickly dim yellow lights above to the now almost heavenly fridge light.

Lucky for you, It only took a second.

And there it was: All of the food in the house currently. The cabinets were pretty bare aside from cleaning products and dishes that weren't either in the dishwasher or being used as makeshift tupper-ware. Standing there and soaking up that light that once blinded you. There were a couple of items your eyes were flicking between; A neat plastic container that held some sort of pasta, a tin foiled-wrapped paper plate mystery, and an unwrapped probably stale mash potatoes from a leftover tv dinner. Absolutely none of it looked particularly appetizing but the grumbling in your stomach didn't at all care, but before you could reach for one of your choices for breakfast your appetite dropped.

"Getting a nice tan, fat-ass?"

The hunger subsided but your stomach filled with the same feeling it always had when you heard that nails on a chalkboard voice of his. Of course, Jeff had to be the only one awake just to spite you when you think the whole house is asleep. You clenched your teeth tight until you felt a slight whirring in your jaw, hopefully, he would fuck off if you didn't respond but that only seemed to spur him on more.

"What are you now, deaf? C'mon toots you know how to say good morning the right way," Jeff's voice still had the sleepiness rasp to it. "Don't ya?"

Honestly, if it wasn't for him being so annoying you would find it quite sexy.

"What's the proper way to say good morning then?" Your voice was also raspy, it was the first thing you said this morning. Too bad that you wasted it on Jeff.

Jeff liked the raspiness more than he would admit, it reminded him of how you tend to scratch up your throat during your guy's screaming matches and how much worse it would get when you were screaming for a different reason. The very thought of a possible fuck made him want to start poking those few buttons he knew.

"Not fucking ignoring me for starters," Jeff smirked against the already scarred smile, making it stretch more. "And giving me a big smile babe."

Your eyes rolled before you even looked back at Jeff. He was leaning against the door frame, his black plaid pajama pants were hanging low on his thin build. The white tank of his was tighter than what you would think, all of it revealed his belly and revealed your favorite part personally: That thick happy trail of his which led to your second favorite part.

You flashed him the most fake smile you could muster, lips stretching against your teeth with how grand you were making it, "Uh-huh."

He couldn't help but smile back before biting his lower lip, Jeff's eyes were glued to your stretched lips. He leaned in closer to you, watching how your lips twitched against the strain "Uh-huh~"

Just as fast as you put that smile on, it dropped into your resting face aside from your lips which were in a slight frown. "Like calling me a fat-ass is such a better way, bleach boy."

It was now his turn for his eyes to roll, "Real mature Toots."

"Oh shove it up your ass Jeff."

Annoyance aside, he was genuinely letting his semi speak for him, and the way you insulted him almost made his semi not a semi anymore. Still, he needed another screaming match to fully get into the mood; deep down, he knew that you needed it too.

"A better way to say good morning to me toots is by sucking my cock."

Your face was stuck in disbelief, your eyes flicked up and down his whole being. You were dumbfounded but when you saw a noticeable bulge in his pajama pants you immediately knew why he was saying this. You let disgust run all over your body, the only thing you wanted in you right now was food and even that was iffy since your appetite was draining by the second while you were with him.

"Really Jeff? As if I'll put that thing in my mouth- won't even reach past my gums." You sneered, looking away from him and towards the empty cabinets, a smirk came across your face.

Jeff rolled his eyes, annoyed but turned on even more now. He came closer to you, now standing in front of you. Towering over you even though he wasn't the tallest guy in the house but here, compared to you he was. He was currently taking up your side view, It made your breath hitched slightly, and the excitement rumbled in a ball in your chest, you felt it every time you breathe.

"You weren't saying that last time doll, you know that." Jeff's sleepiness rasp to his voice was actually sending tingles down your spine, just the excitement of getting into not actually an argument but a bickerment was enough to get over the hatred you had for this man, and get into the pure lust you had instead.

"Who got overwhelmed by my size? screaming about how big it was huh?" Jeff was still teasing you and seemingly his craved smile stretched even wider when he caught your cheeks starting to redden.

He only wants to continue this. wanting to see how red your cheeks would get.

"I saw how your little tummy bulged out when I was absolutely balls deep in you, Doll." Jeff couldn't help but smile more. Now his actual smile was now mocking his carved one.

You couldn't stop the blood rushing to your cheeks causing them to mimick the color now. The redder they got the cockier Jeff got. His ego was inflating and he wouldn't stop until you were naked and squirming underneath him.

"Shut up Jeff. I swear." You murmured, barely able to get it out of your mouth. You swear that the heat from your cheeks was getting in the way of talking, Jeff picked up on this as well and it only pushed him to keep teasing you.

"Come on now can't defend yourself now? Come onnn call me stupid or something sweetface."

Before you could even get a word out he continued.

"See absolutely speechless because of me teasing you? Wow, would never thought that I would see the day that Y/N didn't have anything to say."

He looks proud of himself but a better word for it would be cocky, you thought. He kept going on about his small victory and soon his words snuffed the heat right out of your cheeks. You needed to shut him up somehow before his cockiness also snuffed out your lust. Thankfully, you had just the idea.

You pushed him into the wall, cutting him off in the midst of another boast. You looked up at him with a devilish smirk as you gently pulled up his white tank revealing his lean but toned body, and that happy trail as well. When the shock subsided he immediately got the hint, smirking down at you, while his eyes watched you carefully.

Your hand slid down his pajama pants feeling that same semi he had while you were insulting him. Now you could feel the effect that you always knew you had on him. You, almost at a painstaking pace started to rub his cock. as you started to kiss all over his chest. Sloppy wet kisses, leaving a trail of slight purple bruises as the blood rose to his snow-white skin.

He could only groan softly, keeping his voice hushed because y'all were next to the kitchen door: He couldn't let anyone see him like this, pinned up against the wall, shirt pushed up his chest and you teasing him. He couldn't be seen especially with you. His pride wouldn't possibly let the entire mansion or a single person know that he could stand for a second or even a quick fuck.

The kisses got meaner with time, now biting into his surprisingly soft skin which made it a lot harder for him to conceal his moans and groans.

"Fuck.. Doll." He whined which made you smile against his ribcage. The noise was delicious, and you didn't expect that you would get that from Jeff of all people.

A soft giggle left your lips and was muffled by the bruised flesh currently in your teeth. Your hand that rubbed his semi-to-a-full erection paused its movements as you got an idea that would be rather fun to execute and hopefully get another delicious whine from him.

Your lips left his ribcage and your teeth left their marks in the now red-purple love bruise. Your lips made a trail of now soft and sweet kisses up his chest. No one could tell that you hated this man with how soft you were being in this moment.

You paused when your mouth hovered over his right nipple. Your eyes flicked up to meet his and he looked mostly confused why you stopped kissing him. He liked it despite how rough you were. Little did he know what you had in mind.

"Doll- what are yo-"

You cut him off but wrapped your pretty lips around his nipple and gently sucked on it like he had done to you during past hookups. You ever so slightly let your tongue graze again the hardening pebble.

Pitiful groans came from Jeff's mouth, he was shocked that he could muster up these sounds.

With a wet plop, you stopped sucking, leaving Jeff to scramble to catch his breath and thoughts. When he looked like he had a smidge of it back, you had your two front teeth and bottom teeth around the now reddish pink bud, the color similar to your blush from earlier.

A groan that ended off with a high pitch whine when you started to roll the bud in between your teeth, wriggling your tongue on the top part.

"Fuuuck Duh-Duh... Doll."

That free hand of yours had a similar mind as it went up to his lone nipple gently flicking it and pinching it.

Jeff was a blushing mess, happy that your view was only on his chest cause he would have hated to see your reaction to him like this.

You didn't stop until his right nipple was bright red and slightly puffy.

Jeff reached for your face which had some drool pouring out of your mouth and onto his chest. He absolutely didn't care, pulling you up to his height by your face so he could roughly make out with you. His scarred skin rubbed against yours, tounges smashed together and so did moans. Accidentally bumping teeth when either of you got a little too excited.

You struggled some with the height difference and the way you felt like you were just held up by your neck, so during the make-out, you climbed him like the bean pole he was. He easily helped you: his hands grabbing massive greedy heaps of your thighs, squeezing it hard to start making his own marks on your body.

Drool seeped out from the corners of y'alls mouths.

Finally, he pulled away so your lungs could take gulps of air. He moved to your neck where your pulse was beating the strongest and started biting and sucking: His hands moved to one of his personal favorite body parts of yours: your ass. His hands which looked to be made for piano left imprints.

Your moans filled the kitchen now and weren't the least bit quiet: fuelling him to carry you to the old island in the middle of the kitchen and plopped your bruised ass on the yellowed marble counter.

His greedy mouth traveled down your chest leaving wide 'O' shaped burst blood vessels. You felt your body warming up, you couldn't see all too well, blinded by lust. All that mattered was taking this man in every way y'all saw fit.

Jeff ripped open your shirt, sloppily sucking on your breasts in any way they could fit in his mouth. he didn't care what part he just wanted to suck on them and also for them to be marked since you did one hell of a job on his chest.

"Jefff fuuuck~"

"Now you're moaning my name toots." He said his voice muffled by your marked flesh still halfway in his mouth. "Good." He huffed, his mouth now going lower.

He left a couple marks on your tummy, didn't want to spend too much time there but didn't want to leave it bare. He couldn't wait. He wanted to taste you. To swirl his tongue around in your insides. quite hastily he pulled your underwear down to around your ankles and threw your legs over his shoulders: making you lay your warm naked back against the cold marble which made your nipples hard and that caught his attention.

He flicked his eyes back up to your breasts, taking in the sight before he reached out and grabbed them roughly leaving the same hand-shaped imprints.

His eyes looked wild as ever. the pupil constricted into a pin-point like a parrot who just learned how to say "fuck". Those wild eyes traced your body from your tits down to your pussy, pretty and glistening from all the excitement and fun y'all had earlier. He reached down, gently taking his index finger and rubbing the slit of your cunt. From how he grabbed you earlier you weren't expecting this. How he so delicately touched you as if you were a brittle piece of bone, threatening to snap

You greedily tried to move your hips, trying to push yourself against his hand so you could feel more. The red flush on your face now was out of frustration since he In perfect timing moved his hand so you just missed his fingers by a hair.

"Nuh uh uh toots. Not yet." He said through gritted teeth as if he was straining to hold even himself back from completely devouring you. "I wanna hear something?"

"What Jeff? Whaaat" You whined, now sitting up half-assed.

"Beg."

"I am not-"

"Shut up Doll: You did it before."

"Im not doing it this ti-"

You were cut off by a long moan erupting from your mouth one of Jeff's long fingers slid up inside you, bottoming out easily. the beginning of his palm right against your clit. You were knocked back on your back, legs naturally spreading open for this man which pulled him in closer due to your panties still being around your ankles.

"Please Jeff."

Jeff stood above you, jaw unclenched as now he worked his hand shoving his ring finger in to join his middle one.

"That's all you had to say bitch.. GOD, you're so hot like this." He groaned, pulling back as he lowered himself to be in direct line of sight of your pussy. He moved his hand so his palm wasn't covering your now swollen clit, His natural smile was now ear to ear before he leaned over and started to suck lightly on your clit which sent your hips into wild motions so wild in fact that he had to reach up with his free hand and firmly press it against your belly to keep you still enough while he tasted you.

He worked his fingers into you hard but slow, thrusting into you as if he was fucking you with his cock, his tongue flicking around your clit. he changed his thrusts to the scissoring motion when he noticed you tightening up on him, your pussy throbbing wildly, your moans pleads, and whimpers all in his ears.

He moaned along with you, seemingly getting off to see you getting off. Strangely, you twos emotions were always tied together.

Maybe it was from all practice he had but he genuinely felt you were close, it must've been muscle memory.

His fingers worked rough, sloppily thrusting into you with no real timing or pacing. His tongue and mouth got sloppier and so did his hold on you which meant you could buck all you wanted. You squeezed tighter on his fingers genuinely feeling a big knot in your stomach, only tightening more and more with how more messy Jeff has gotten.

His mouth trailed off, his tongue joining his fingers in your hole while his other hand's fingers rubbed your clit, flicking it back and forth between his index and middle finger.

The muscles in your legs twitched and generally shake as if that would help you hold in the need to come undone under jeff's talented hands and mouth.

The knot only swelled and so did the upcoming scream in your throat. In time, you clasp your hand over your mouth muffling the guttural scream the best you can.

You came and came hard, juices gushing out of your hole and onto Jeff's fingers and waiting mouth. He looked up at you, your whole body flushed a rosy pink. Your mouth agape taking in greedy breaths, boobs bouncing slightly from your chest moving.

"Jesus toots almost drowned me." He grinned, at how annoyed you looked. He straightened up, his chin still dripping with your fluids, he stuck his fingers into your hanging mouth.

"Suck." He ordered, eyes lowering but the smile was still the same.

You closed your mouth around his fingers and gave it gentle sucks, savoring the taste of yourself much to the enjoyment of Jeff. his eyes sparkled when you kept sucking even when he tried to pull them out.

He pulled you by your hips closer to him, his pajama pants barely able to hang on. He barely pulled them down, just enough so that he could take out his cock.

"I know you been wanting this~"

"Shut up Jeff."

"What am I wrong toots?"

"Ye-" A loud moan interrupted you when he shoved himself into your needy cunt, gladly sucking in all of his length.

He joined your choir of moans as being in your tight pussy was enough for his knees almost to buckle. He was hunched over you, god he could swear to a priest that this pussy was the closest thing to heaven he has ever known. He gave only shallow thrusts which were enough for you both to shudder and whine. You from being overly sensitive and him from just edging himself.

"Fuck toots- god!"

He thrust into you hard one time and you both saw stars. Jeff was hunched over you like a lion eating its's meal, his hands found a way towards your hair and pulled it backward, making you stay in an arch position. He gave you more brutal thrusts, knocking every damn thought out of ya.

"Cant fucking think huh doll?" Jeff mocked you for the glazed-over look you had in your eyes. Your tongue hanging out like a puppy-dog.

"Fuck you." your tongue found it's way back into your mouth and hurled that at him.

"You're already doing that sweetheart~" He cooed looking down at your pretty face, which know had more of a glare on it then lust.

He kept the same deep pace with you, looking intently into your eyes.

"Fu-fuck you jeff! I hate you!"

Your pussy squeezed around him almost like it was milking him. His thrusts only grew rougher as his smile grew wider.

"hate me huh? Dont hate me enough not to fuck me~ God you're such a stupid little slut."

The way he was bottoming you out on repeat was making you stammer on your words. "Shut shut shut up-"

"Or else what bitch? Am I the only guy you fuck in the house or just the one that does it the best?'

His index and middle finger went to rub your clit. pressing harder down on it. You couldn't help but to buck your hips again. The knot in your belly finding the loose strings and tying itself up again.

"Jesus christ Jeffery- You're such a fucking asshole- Can't even- make me cum again." You said through gritted teeth, the way you had to suppress moans just to say that drove you insane. And deep down you knew that he was gonna make you cum again by how the knot was quickly tightening up.

"Oh? I can't, news to me bitch." He slow down but still trusted into you hard enough for you not to complain. His hand went off of your clit and onto your belly pressing down on it. He could feel his own cock going in and out.

His other hand loosens up on your hair, allowing you to move a little and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows, looking him right in his cocky face.

"fuck smiles-" You moaned and he laughed.

Your hand went and grabbed his hair pulling him to your lips. The smart way of shutting him up, can't brag if he's busy swirling tongues.

The kiss was hot and heavy and soon you both got sloppier. Jeff with his thrusts and tongue and you with your tongue.

your facades both fell apart and you two wildly fucked into each other. Not thinking about the rivalry, the other people living here, nothing at all but getting each other off.

The knot was unbearabley tight, your thighs twitching like mad around his waist, squeezing him a little tighter. Jeff pushed you flat on your back, now chest to chest with your tongues still locked together. Moans seeping out in between the little breaks in the kiss. You pulled away to fully let out a louder moan and you could feel jeff's hot breaths against your cheek. He smelled of you.

"Jeff... I'm gonna cum."

"Fuck me too."

Jeff got sloppier like how he did when he was fingering you. No rhythm or pacing to it, fucking into you rough. Whatever felt good to him he just did it. Rocking his hips into you at a brutal pace. He lifted himself off of your chest, his hands taking greedy handfuls of your thighs and squeezing hard, matching the brutal way he was fucking you. He was holding you as if you would run away but you did quite the opposite, fucking yourself back against him when he wasn't pulling you against his thrusts.

When you did have your eyes open, you caught glimpses of him staring at you with such an intensity it made your pussy throb. His jaw clenched, eyes crazy but scanning your whole body drinking the view in.

It felt like hours going on like this but a couple more thrusts made you cum, your body seized up, tightening your pussy around him before just gushing all over his pelvis, thoroughly soaking his pajama pants that were loosely hanging around his thighs. Seeing you being sent over the edge was what he needed to come undone, with one last thrust he filled you up to the brim, his legs shaking as he dumped every last drop into you.

He then slouched and laid on your chest, his face resting in the nook of your neck. You both lay there, breathing heavily but in sync. Somehow your hands found their way to his back, your finger drawing invisible circles on his shoulder blade.

When both of ya'lls breathing stopped resembling that of an asthmatic kid who just got done running the mile, Jeff picked his head up. A gentle smile against his carved one.

"i'll make us breakfast, toots."

#creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer x reader smut #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

starseungs · 2 years

Text

➳ cruel summer. lmh

• pairing: lee know x gn!reader

friendships can break. some even turn into enemies. that was a fact you unfortunately knew all too well.

• genre: angst with happy ending, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, college au, dancer!minho & y/n — 2.9k words

• warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, minho and y/n insult each other bcs its e2l

• note: #2 on your love through the ages series | i swear not all fics in this series are mainly angst;; anw if you havent already noticed from the title, yes this is inspired by taylor swift's cruel summer^^ a small spin on the lyrics if i must say... cause summer isnt even the main setting in this-

Lee Minho was a menace in your life. You will never understand how he does it. Despite being a fairly normal (and by normal, you may or may not have meant that there was nothing going on for him) guy, he had a major talent for getting under your skin and igniting peeves you never even knew existed until he himself did it. At one point, you thought maybe your peeve was just Minho himself, instead of the actual action. After all, even the act of talking annoyed you greatly whenever it was his voice you heard echoing through the area. Fortunately, though, it wasn't like you were the only one being an absolute asshole—

—Minho disliked you with a passion as well.

If you were given a penny for every moment you both had some sort of argument, verbal or non-verbal, you'd surely be able to buy a house. And a penny isn't even that much to begin with. When asked, anyone who knows both you and Minho will probably give the same answer: put both of you in a room to do something, one says a single word, and hell breaks loose. The formula was pretty straightforward and simple, really. Everything was a fight between you two, and neither you nor Minho liked to lose. You'd think that being like-minded people would make you friends rather than enemies, and even you were surprised at first.

Because it wasn't always like this with Minho.

You don't exactly remember where it all went wrong, but all you do know was that somewhere along the way, Minho went from being your whole life to a person you could hardly stand to be in the same room with for more than ten minutes—constantly getting on each other's nerves; waiting for someone to break first and admit defeat. Making the whole thing even more frustrating was that the two of you knew each other a bit too well; a result of the deep friendship you both once cherished above all else.

Childhood friends. That was the category you begrudgingly acknowledged both of you fell under. What were once two inseparable children who refused to stay away from each other for more than a day. The friends who were seen as a package deal, even despite never being in the same class in the entirety of your elementary school years. Your families were even really close at one point—close enough where you could guess your mothers made a bet about the two of you's relationship. But just like an unexpected plot twist, all of those happy memories were washed down the drain along with your friendship with Minho.

You still remember how it started—a seven-year-old boy defending you from a rude classmate of yours back in first grade. It was when said classmate made fun of you for having cat-designed supplies (which, mind you, were actually really cute) that he considered was "lame" and "childish". As if he wasn't also a literal child at that time. Minho slid into the scene to show them a piece of his mind just before you were about to start crying, feeling humiliated and offended by the other boy's words. He defended you, or well, your appreciation for cats, with such conviction that you almost fell for him right then and there. You were really into the idea of romance back then. The whole thing was too petty for you to think of now, but back then, Minho was your knight in shining armor.

Friendship with Minho sailed smoothly from there. He approached you immediately after your rude classmate decided to leave you both alone, not seeing the fight as worth it anymore (good for him, you guessed.) Both of your interests in cats were something that bonded you two at the speed of lightning, earning you your first friend outside of relatives around the same age. He was your best friend for so long that the separation seemingly came out of nowhere, just the week before middle school started.

At first you didn't think much about it; you knew it was normal for childhood friendships to fall out around one's teen years, since it was the time where one would be meeting new people—but the more you thought about your everyday life without Minho, the more you missed him. Even more so that there was no actual reason for you two to suddenly act as if the other never existed, you just somehow came to the conclusion that this was supposed to happen one day. Who knows, it could have been teenage issues.

But then the radio silence turned into a chaotic battlefield in the blink of an eye. You got into dance around your second year of middle school and decided that your next course of action was to join your school's dance club. At the time, you were well aware that Minho was already a member of that club since his first year and thought it would have been great to reconnect with him there. Don't get you wrong through, you swore you didn't get into dance because of him. It totally wasn't because you loved seeing him have fun during performances that you wanted to try it out for yourself. Still, you had high hopes of joining this club—except that hope was shattered not even a week in.

"Look, we all know you're new to all this, but would it be too much for you to keep up?" You remember his harsh words like it was just yesterday. Oh, how you wanted to punch him so badly that day. The same week you joined, the club had an upcoming performance for the school assembly, and the current captain figured it wouldn't be a harm to add you in at the last minute. After all, they were still just in the middle of learning the routine and had about two weeks left until showtime. The other members seemed to agree too, seeing as you were the only new member and it would be such a waste to leave you aside. All except one person.

Now, you don't know what got into Minho's breakfast that morning during practice, but he targeted you throughout the whole day. It hurt your pride, of course—especially seeing that even the first years made mistakes during practice—but you were the only one he scolded. Sure, you had less experience than he had at this club and dancing in general, but you two were literally the same age! There was absolutely no reason to be this pissed, even if you did join a month after the year one recruits were brought in. Your dancing didn't suck either, you knew that much. As new as you were to the world of dancing, you knew you had good potential and a decent natural talent for it. How would you get into this club in the first place if you didn't? They had a whole screening process and everything. So there was only one logical reason for Minho's attitude towards you:

Hate. Lee Minho hated you.

Why? How would you know? But if he was going to be like this, then you surely wouldn't go down without a fight. If he thinks you're still the timid seven-year-old who couldn't even stand up for themselves at a mere childish insult, then your six years of friendship with him was a joke, because you've clearly changed since then. It was then that you swore you'd make him acknowledge it, even through the hard way. And you certainly did slap him in the face the following year when you became vice captain alongside him, despite the fact that it was only your second year. That wasn't good news to Minho, though—so as one would expect, your infamous arguments continued. The rest is history.

"If you're going to be like this, I'm asking for a new partner," Minho scowled at you venomously from the dance studio's speakers, pausing the song to rewind it back to the start. "Even if I have to beg our professor, it would be so much better than screwing up the final project because of you."

Wow, that one hurt. You inwardly winced at his ice-cold comment, feeling a small stab at your chest. His insults may have become dull to you over time, but that didn't mean you were unaffected by them. Never did you think you'd end up here: doing your semester's final project with Minho. Actually, you never would have guessed you'd go to the same college—let alone in the same major! As if enduring his presence for five years in middle and high school wasn't enough, he just had to still be there just when you thought you'd be able to turn over a new leaf. But no; along with his mere existence at your university was your thick tension-filled rivalry with him, and everyone was quick to catch on.

Never put Y/N and Minho, although both dance majors, in the same room.

Unfortunately, your professor seemed to have missed the memo—because he broke that unspoken rule when he announced the partners for the final project a week ago. Shameless gasps filled the lecture hall as all pairs of eyes snapped towards your and Minho's horrified ones. This was going to be a long two weeks, you remembered groaning in annoyance.

"Then do it," you spat strongly at him. "Tell him you can't accept it whenever shit doesn't go your way. Grow up, will you?" Minho only kept quiet and didn't say anything back to you for the rest of the day after that.

Thankfully, you two managed to complete the project with flying colours with the help of some heavenly deity (because there was just no way you two managed to achieve this much together on your own.) You stared cautiously as Minho handed you a bottle of your favourite drink. This was a new scene, his head hanging low in the glow of the vending machine underneath the dark sky. If you asked yesterday's you if there would ever be a time where you were caught in an intimate setting with Minho after all those quarrels, you would have said no. But here you were, facing him in the quiet of the night.

Vulnerable words were exchanged that night, minds finally understanding each other for the first time in years. Minho knew he was being a dick to you. He knew and yet did nothing to fix it. You were better off without him anyway. He wasn't a knight, and he would never be. Even if he saw himself through your eyes back then, his mind wouldn't change. Minho noticed early on that you were made to achieve heights he could only dream of—a fact he could never forget because everyone around him was saying the exact same thing. And as your best friend, that made him so proud. On the contrary, he was somewhat plain. At first he wanted to continue sticking by you because he thought he'd be influenced to do better; but the opposite happened and he was starting to influence you instead. That scared Minho, and the unknown pressure he personally put on himself made it seem ten times worse than it actually was—which, mind you, should not have been something he became anxious over.

He also knew it was stupid to cut ties with you so suddenly, but this was a chance for the both of you to start over a new life and live in the bubbles you both rightfully belonged to. That was why he felt like his perfect world was shattered when you found your way back to him through the dance club. What were you doing here? When did you even start liking dance? Was that because of him too? He wanted you to turn around and leave immediately. Yet the more he pushed you away, the more the thought of you kept crashing into his mind, not showing signs of leaving even in the dead of night. Minho was growing feelings, and he despised himself for it. So he did what he apparently was best at—continuing to make you hate him. His wishes for your happiness were the same reasons why you ended up having the worst time of your life with having to deal with his attitude towards you, all the while Minho was too busy trying to push you away to notice you were hurt by his actions too. Strong emotions can make you do idiotic things. He finally came to his senses on the day you filmed your project together, after days of thinking through what you had said to him back in the dance studio.

You didn't accept his apology. Even if he was sincerely sorry about it, there was no excuse for how he acted towards you. But that wasn't the reason why you refused to take his apology; it was because you had things to apologise for too. Minho wasn't the only one who had said and done less than kind things throughout this whole ordeal, so you agreed to be on civil terms. Your semester ended with a clean cut between the relationship between you and Minho.

Summer was boring, to say the least. You decided to go back and spend the break with your family in your childhood home. The neighborhood brought back fond memories; some of which were of little you and Minho hanging out after class. Speaking of him, you heard he came back home too—his house only a few down the road from yours. But it's not like you could just visit him anyway. You two were basically strangers now. Not even enemies or rivals. And maybe it hurt more than you thought it would because you found yourself missing his voice at random times of the day (even if his voice in your memories was mostly frustrated and annoyed.) In the living room, you often glanced at the door in hopes that maybe he would come and visit. It was driving you crazy.

You never thought of liking Minho romantically, but this cliched progression of events was seemingly proving you otherwise. To be fair, there's a chance that what you were feeling was just seeking for what was normal, but either way, it didn't change the fact that it still bothered you. Luckily, your high school class' get-together was the next day, giving you the chance to drink and forget, even just for the night.

Yeah, that party did not go as planned.

What was up with everyone looking for Minho? You weren't even in the same class back then! He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. Frustrated, you decided to take a shot every time someone mentioned his name in front of you and ended up fairly drunk out of your mind. That must explain why you found yourself sitting in front of Minho's family house in the middle of the night with blurry vision, either from the tears that were threatening to spill or the alcohol. A click from the front door took you out of your thoughts, only to see a shocked Minho staring at you with wide eyes.

"Why the fuck are you here?" He asked, rushing over to lift you up from the ground. "Are you drunk? You smell like alcohol! Let's get you home." Minho placed your arm behind his shoulders and moved to drag you back to the sidewalk. You kept your feet glued to the ground as firmly as you could.

He looks at you with expiration. "Come on, Y/N. Don't make this difficult for the both of us, yeah? Your parents must be looking for you too." You kept quiet, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, unable to spill out although you really wanted them to. "Y/N? Did something happen?"

Fuck it.

"I miss you, Minho," you said in a whisper, feeling too weak to go any louder. "I missed you back then, and I still miss you now." Your soft cry froze him in his tracks. His silence was deafening, and you were left assuming the worst. It wouldn't be wrong for him to reject you like this. After all, you had just decided on closing your friendship for good around a week and a half ago, and what you've been feeling for him was still relatively new. Bracing yourself for the words that would probably leave you moping in your room for the remainder of summer break, you opened your eyes to look back at him.

And there he was, staring at you with so much emotion you couldn't take in.

"And so you do," he says back, just as softly. "If I say I missed you too, what would you want me to do?"

You felt the sharp shards of ice that were stabbed in your heart from the years of fighting with Minho slowly melt away. There was only one answer to that question.

"Kiss me." He sighs in content at your answer and pulls you closer, lips so close yet barely touching.

This little shit.

You grabbed his collar to close the gap, your lips crashing together as you felt sparks fly, illuminating the place in a light only you two could see. He pulls away slowly after a few seconds, grinning at you like a devil.

"Don't you dare regret this in the morning."

What a cruel summer.

taglist 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon @starzzns @lhskokoro @bookishcalls @lilydaisyyy | let me know if you want to be added or removed^^

999 notes · View notes