#as in. i left a note saying the containers are full with dirty cups and they took the note and left the cups in the container

[ruvviks]

i think one of the best things to teach yourself when you have very bad anxiety is how to say "this is not my problem anymore"

[adverbally]

Lovers Forever, Face to Face

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “lingerie” | wc: 1,851 | rated: E | cw: none | tags: Eddie in lingerie, body insecurity, mirror sex, body worship, dirty talk, buttplug, anal sex | title from “Leather and Lace” by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

———

Eddie curses himself and scowls at his reflection. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

He turns away but twists his upper body back, trying to see his ass in the mirror. Still flat, he notes, just covered in a layer of dark fabric that looks terrible on him. The panties, stark against his skin, make him look more pale than he actually is. Sickly, even. Fragile.

It doesn’t seem fair. Steve looks so good in lingerie. He’s got a certain softness to him that’s enhanced by satin and lace— the curves of his pecs cradled by a bralette, his ass and cock barely contained by skimpy underwear, sometimes even a pair of stockings straining to contain his shapely calves and thick thighs. Always in jewel tones, emerald and sapphire and amethyst, that pop against the warmth of his skin.

More importantly, Steve wears lingerie with a confidence that takes Eddie’s breath away. He’ll stalk across the room with a sway to his hips and a fire in his eyes that tells Eddie he knows exactly how sexy he looks. He’ll grab Eddie’s hands and place them where he wants them, encouraging him to squeeze until the lacy pattern leaves an imprint on the skin beneath. He’ll grind their pelvises together, panties still on, until the fabric is wet with their combined precome and his cock is hard enough to peek out over the waistband. He’ll command Eddie to come on him, painting the material with a glaze of white that he’ll have to wash out by hand the next day.

Steve in lingerie? Insanely hot. Eddie? Not so much. He stares into the mirror and feels nothing but pathetic at the sight of himself in a black matching set. Too angular, too harsh, too awkward.

“Eds?” Steve’s voice, though muffled from the other side of the bathroom door, still makes Eddie jump. A tentative knock follows. “You okay in there?”

He should just change back into his boxers. No harm done, lingerie just isn’t for him. Steve doesn’t even have to see how stupid it looks.

Except that the doorknob is turning behind him and Steve is sticking his head into the room and there’s no way Steve isn’t getting the full view right now. Not just Eddie’s ass, which is facing him, but the reflection of his front in the mirror across the small room.

Eddie meets Steve’s gaze in the mirror. To his surprise, Steve isn’t laughing or grimacing or making that weirdly blank face he gets when he’s trying to be polite and not say whatever bitchy comment is on the tip of his tongue. No, Steve looks… flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. Gobsmacked.

“Oh my god.”

Immediately, Eddie goes on the defensive. “I know, I know, it’s ridiculous. I’m gonna take it off and we can pretend this never happened.” He twists his arms up behind him to struggle with the hook and eye closure on the bralette. It took him, like, ten minutes to get it on, and he suspects it will be even harder to take it off

“No!” Steve exclaims, voice echoing off the shower tiles. Eddie can feel him looking up and down his body, can see something like awe in his eyes. “Please, don’t take it off.”

“Um.” He releases the band where he had tugged it halfway down his back to reach the clasps more easily.

Steve steps up behind him. His hands hover over Eddie’s shoulders. “Can I— is it okay if I touch you?” he asks softly.

Eddie doesn’t know if he can speak, nerves squeezing his throat shut. He nods instead.

It’s just light pressure at first. Steve’s fingers skim along the bralette’s straps, down Eddie’s back and up again, tracing over his shoulders until they reach the triangles of lacy mesh that serve as the cups.

“Look at that,” Steve breathes. “Gorgeous.”

Skin meets skin now as he steers away from the fabric and follows the lines of Eddie’s tattoos. The spider below his left collarbone, the demonic face beneath it. On the other side of his chest, more recently inked, a pair of twenty-sided dice showing rolls of one and twenty.

“The black really stands out against your skin,” Steve tells him. “Matches your tattoos.”

“Steve,” Eddie protests. His face is heating up, a flush spreading across his cheeks, down his neck and chest. He watches his skin going pink in the mirror, which makes him flush even more in a feedback loop of embarrassment.

Steve gently runs his palms up and down Eddie’s upper arms. “You don’t like it.” It’s not a question; he saw Eddie’s reaction, his body language screaming his discomfort.

Even knowing that Steve knows the answer, it’s hard for Eddie to say it out loud. “Not really.” He shifts his weight, awkwardly folds his arms across his front.

“Why not?” When Eddie’s reflection just gapes at him, Steve elaborates, “What’s wrong with it? Is it how it feels?”

No, Steve had chosen well with this set. It’s not scratchy or restrictive or anything, perfectly sized for Eddie and comfortable enough to wear all day, he thinks. “It’s not that.”

Steve frowns. “Is it… I don’t know, is it too girly for you?” He had struggled with that at first, the way it forced him to embrace a side of himself that he had always rejected. Now he has fun exploring his feminine side.

Eddie doesn’t have particularly strong feelings about gendering underwear, though, so he doesn’t think that’s the problem, either. He struggles to find the right words for a moment before he settles on, “It just doesn’t look good on me.”

“I think it does,” Steve says simply.

How can it? How could anything possibly look good on Eddie’s scrawny, scarred body? He almost wants to ask Steve what he sees in him, but he’s scared that the praise will sound like it’s for another person entirely.

As always, Steve seems to read his mind. “Black is your color, obviously. It makes the rest of you look like you’re glowing or something. Like the moon.” He tugs one of the bralette straps aside to plant a kiss on Eddie’s shoulder. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve’s hands come up to cover the lace panels adorning Eddie’s chest. “So pretty. I can’t decide if I want to take it off you or leave it on.” He pinches one of his nipples through the fabric, prodding it into hardness. “Does that feel good?” he asks Eddie, almost as an aside to his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps. Fuck, his mouth is dry. He can feel Steve’s cock, half-hard against his ass, and his own dick plumping up in response.

“Yeah,” Steve echoes absently. His chin rests on Eddie’s shoulder for a better view of the mirror. “Yeah, I bet my mouth would feel good, too.”

It would, Eddie knows it would. He watches Steve’s hands teasing him in the mirror and pictures his tongue licking over the material, his mouth sucking the taste of Eddie’s skin right through the lace, turning the fabric dark with spit.

“And this—” Steve wiggles a finger under the band, pulling it away from the skin only to release it with a sharp snap that steals Eddie’s breath. “I could jerk you around with this. Leave it on while I fuck you from behind and use it to pull you back on my cock. Keep it tight enough to leave marks under your tits.”

Eddie can’t do anything but groan and bend over the counter in invitation. Sadly, Steve lets go of the bralette rather than letting it keep digging into Eddie’s ribs, but he makes up for it by grabbing his lace-covered hips and grinding his cock against Eddie’s ass.

“Perfect,” he breathes. “I can see right through your panties when you bend over like that. You didn’t tell me you were gonna wear a plug, too.” Steve’s thumb trails down the seam at the back of Eddie’s underwear, tracing it until he hits the silicone base of the toy plugging Eddie’s hole. He nudges it deeper just to hear Eddie’s breath hitch.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna wait,” Eddie explains, pressing back into Steve’s touch.

Steve chuckles. “You mean you didn’t wanna wait.” When Eddie looks up at the mirror, Steve’s reflection is looking right back at him. His eyes are molten with want. “You wanted me to push you down on the bed, tug your panties to the side, and slide right in, huh?” His fingers follow his words, pulling the lingerie out of the way and coaxing the plug out of Eddie.

“Steve,” he begs, keeping their gazes locked in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Steve tells him, reaching for the bottle of lube Eddie had left on the countertop. “You’re gonna get exactly what you wanted.” He slicks up his cock, wiping the excess from his fingers around Eddie’s hole, and then he’s lining up and pushing inside.

Eddie is suddenly aware of everywhere the lingerie is touching— the elastic waist and leg holes of the underwear leaving indentations in his skin. The band of the bralette fighting the expansion of his lungs if Eddie breathes too deep. The mesh covering his nipples chafing a little when Steve holds his torso against the counter. The wet spot where his cock leaks into his panties making him shiver when it presses into the cold edge of the sink.

And there’s Steve, around him, inside him, kissing the bumps of Eddie’s spine, fucking him so good it makes Eddie’s eyes water, trying to get Eddie to see himself like Steve sees him, something dark and beautiful and his…

In the mirror, Eddie watches Steve’s face as they both reach their peak. Creased brow, bitten lips, eyes scrunching shut against the inevitability of his orgasm. He feels the throb of Steve coming inside him, the weight of Steve’s hands anywhere he can reach, touching Eddie like he’s something holy. That touch grounds both of them when the pleasure threatens to carry him away.

For a moment, they both slump against the counter in exhaustion. Then Steve reaches down to feel the mess Eddie made of his panties, rubbing the come-soaked fabric against his cock until Eddie’s knees are shaking with oversensitivity. He does the same when he pulls out, kneeling behind Eddie to clean him up by sucking his own come through the gaps in the lace.

“Stevie, wait, too much,” Eddie slurs, waving a trembling arm back in Steve’s direction to make him stop.

“Sorry, baby.” Steve catches his hand and tangles their fingers together, then leverages himself back to his feet with a huff. “Hard to resist.”

Eddie turns around to face Steve, not his reflection, for the first time this evening. He looks the same but he’s warm flesh instead of cool glass when Eddie pulls him in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says into Steve’s mouth.

Steve brushes their noses together affectionately. “Any time. Change your mind about the lingerie?”

He grins back. “I could be persuaded to give it another try.”

[galacticgraffiti]

After, and From Then On

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Pairing: Gale of Waterdeep x gn!reader

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 3k Descriptors: Reader's anatomy is not described. I tried to keep it genderneutral, if something slipped through the cracks let me know! CW: grinding (the carnal way), soft-topping Gale bc he deserves it, so soft dom vibes for reader, subby vibes for gale, loads of praise, some dirty talk, feelings, established relationship, some tiddy play (gale receiving hehe)

Author's Note: If you know me, then you know I am not a top, let alone a dom. HOWEVER. Gale makes me feel some type of way. So there you go.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

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After, and From Then On

“What a day,” Gale sighs, flopping down onto his pillows. “Dear me, I thought that fight would never end. Thank the gods for Karlach’s greataxe.”

“Right you are, my love.” You sit next to him, feet wiggling, your body still pumped full of adrenaline. The camp has not been this quiet in ages - everyone is away, bathing, looking for supplies. The silence is too much to bear after a day so full of noise and excitement. Your body is practically vibrating with tension, and the sight of Gale does nothing to ease that excitement: You have been in a very specific mood since you bathed together, the rest of the party granting you some time alone by the river in the woods.

Gale had said nothing nor done anything to encourage this mood. Maybe it’s left over adrenaline from the fights, maybe it’s the way he looks with his wet ringlets and the little dangling earring and his beautiful brown eyes. You have been trying very hard to contain yourself - Gale may be very forward in romantic gestures, but he usually takes some time to warm up for anything… more. So you had not said anything when you bathed, though the fire in your belly burns hot.

Looking at him now does not help your situation: The deep cut of his robes revealing the fine hair on his chest, the tattoo stretching its smokey tendrils all the way up his neck.

When Gale lets his head fall back, you watch as the tendons in his throat stretch and strain with the movement, and sparks crackle through your body anew. You want to mark that perfect neck. You want to make him yours.

For a moment, you try to look away. You close your eyes and breathe, but the feeling won’t let up. You are all hopped up, in spite of the long day behind you, and there is only one thing that could help you release some of that tension.

“Gale,” you purr, one hand moving to grab his thigh, wandering up and up and up very slowly. “My love, that fight was… sure something. I love watching you practise your craft, you really are masterful. So inventive, so quick. Karlach is brutally good with that greataxe of hers, but nothing gives me greater pleasure than watching you fight, baby.”

Gale’s eyes snap open at your tone of voice. You hold your breath, giving him the opportunity to stop you, but he does not. Instead, you can see the way his cheeks flush. Your eyes watch closely how his throat bobs when he swallows thickly.

“You flatter me, my darling,” he whispers, his voice rough as he covers your hand on his thigh with his own.

“Mhhm. Maybe.” Your own voice is low and sweet. “A little flattery never hurt anyone, especially when I mean every word I say. And I do know how much you enjoy praise, don’t you, baby boy?”

His thigh beneath your hand twitches at that, and you watch with satisfaction as dark desire is sparked in the deep honey of his eyes. You lick your lips and cock your head, quietly asking for Gale to respond.

“Is that- is that the mood you are in?” He clears his throat, stalling for time as your fingers creep further up his leg, dragging a nail up his thigh. You roll onto your side so you can get a better view of him: His cheeks flush as he spreads his legs further for you, his mouth barely open but enough so that you can hear the breaths and low moans that fall from his lips when you finally cup his hardening cock in your hand.

“That is the mood I’m in, my love,” you confirm sweetly, pressing your palm down until Gale shudders, the quietest of whimpers escaping from his throat. “And is it the mood you are in?”

Gale’s hand is placed on top of yours and you let him guide you, more than willing to give in to his request… for now.

“It is very much the mood I am in now.” With a tilt of his head he smiles, his eyes soft and already clouded with sweet pleasure. You smile a wicked smile, now properly wrapping your hand around him through his robes and undergarments, savouring the weight of him in your hand.

“And that’s all it takes to get you hard for me, baby? Knowing that I want to spoil you rotten, knowing I want to make you beg for me until all you can think of is my name?” You feel him twitch beneath your fingers again, and you smirk. Oh, it really is so easy to get him all riled up.

Gale moans, fingers fisting into his robes, and for once, he responds not in words but in a sharp, desperate nod.

“Come on, baby boy, I’m gonna need to hear you say it for me, yeah? Tell me how much you want it and maybe I’ll allow you to come for me.”

“Oh!” The whimper that escapes Gale only fans the flames in your belly. This is the only time you ever see him lost for words. As much as you enjoy listening to him, learning from him, soaking up the knowledge he possesses like a sponge… this is special. This is a way only you ever get to see him: Lost for words as he is buried in the pleasure you bring him. You love the way you can always tell exactly how far gone he is, by the twitch of his thigh and the look in his eyes.

You run your nails along the length of his cock, revelling in the sweet moans that fall from Gale’s lips before you decide that this is simply not enough.

You push yourself up, and before Gale can open his mouth to protest the loss of contact, you straddle him, bracketing his thighs between yours. His hands come to rest on your hips without even thinking, and you don’t see why you shouldn’t allow it. Not now that you can feel him press against you, hard as a rock; not now that you feel the heat emanating from him; not now that you can push your hands inside his robes to play with his perfect chest. When your fingertips graze his nipple, Gale lets out a moan so loud you have to bend forward and kiss him to swallow it up.

“Shh, baby, they’ll hear you. The river is not so far away.” You remove one hand from his robes to cup his jaw, swiping your thumb across his lower lip as you look at him sternly. “And if you don’t want an audience… you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No- never.” Gale’s voice breaks even within those few syllables. “I desire you, more than anything- I wish for you to take whatever you want from me and let that be enough to keep you by my side. I want to make you happy.”

“Mhh, you do make me happy,” you hum, though your heart aches at his words. “Listen to me, my love. I will never leave you. You are enough, just the way you are.”

Carefully, you kiss him again, sweetly, without haste, pushing your tongue into his mouth until he moans your name. Your hips start rocking, grinding down into him, and you let yourself enjoy the feeling of him beneath you. His hips buck and you click your tongue in disappointment.

“No, no, baby, you stay nice and still for me. You stay just like this and look so pretty for me, with your cheeks all flushed and your lips swollen from my kisses, and you don’t move until I tell you it’s okay. The longer you stay still for me, the more time I’ll have to praise you, to tell you just how perfect you are for me. Would you like that, my love? ”

Gale shudders, but his hips still.

“Yes, I would like that,” he mumbles, his eyes cast down.

Gently, you tilt his chin up with two fingers.

“You are not just telling me what I want to hear now, are you?” you ask sternly. “You can always say no, my love. I won’t be mad.”

Gale’s lip trembles before he catches himself. His hands tighten on your hips.

“I do want this,” he says, his voice rough with sweet and honest desire. “This is… perfect. You are perfect- you treat me so much better than she-”

“Shh.” You shake your head. “No thoughts of her. You don’t belong to her anymore. You are your own person, my love, and you are so wonderful. So talented and so wise, so sweet and so brave. You are everything good and more. And… if you wish, you can be mine, all mine. My sweet love. As long as you are happy, so am I.”

Gale nuzzles his face against your chest at your words. You wrap your arms around him and hold him as tight as you can, placing sweet kisses in his soft hair.

“You are perfect,” you whisper. “And you are always enough. Whatever you want is fine- whether you want more, or whether you want less. I’ll always take care of you, baby boy.”

You bury your hands in his hair, loosening your embrace to give him space. For a second, Gale remains still, but then he pulls back to look up at you, his eyes shimmering in the light of the sunset.

“My affections for you run deeper than even I have words to describe,” he murmurs. “All I can think of when I look at you is that- I want more. I always want more. Especially when it comes to you.”

You smile and bend closer to him until your lips nearly touch, the bridge of his nose resting against yours.

“Good boy,” you whisper. Gale tenses beneath you, and pleasure ripples through you when he sighs happily.

“I like it when you call me that,” he admits quietly.

You chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to take note of that, my love.” Slowly, your hips resume their movement, grinding down against him once more, but you pace yourself. You don’t want to do too much too fast. “You are being so good for me. So patient and so sweet, so eager to please me. My sweet, good boy.”

Gale moans again, his voice echoing in the crisp air. You press a finger to his lips.

“Shh, baby, shhh. As much as I love the way you sound, you need to be quiet. Can you do that for me, my love? Can you be quiet?” When Gale hesitates, a devious smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Mhh, I can always give your mouth something else to do, then. Would you like that?”

“I think I would very much enjoy that.” Gale nods eagerly and looks at you with those big eyes of his that tug at your heart.

“Good boy.” You smile and kiss him once again. You stroke his cheek, taking your time to caress his face, make him feel loved and seen and safe, before you slowly push two fingers into his mouth. Gale’s eyes go wide with surprise, but he overcomes his hesitancy quickly, sucking on your fingers with an eagerness you did not expect.

“Oh, you really like that, don’t you?” You mumble, more to yourself than anything else. “Look at you- those rosy lips wrapped around my fingers, your cock so hard for me. You’re perfect, baby, so perfect for me. Gods, I love feeling you beneath me, I love feeling how hard I can get you. I love the expression on your face when you finally get to turn off that brain of yours, when your mind goes quiet and empty except for the way I’m making you feel.”

Gale nods, humming around your fingers.

“You like that too, hm?” You smile at the eager expression on his face. “Well then. Relax for me, baby. Focus on me, yeah? Focus on the taste of my fingers in your mouth, focus on how good it feels to grind up against me- now you can move, baby, there you go. There you go, good boy, oh- oh, you’re so hard for me, aren’t you? Already getting desperate for me? So, so desperate to come, oh I know, I’m torturing you. Forgive me, baby, it’s just so- much- fun-”

You pull your fingers from his lips to give him the chance to answer, dipping your hands into his robes again instead, dragging the wetness of his spit across his hardened nipples.

“I ado- oh!- adore the way you make me feel,” Gale breathes. “You make me feel things I had never felt before- you make me feel safe and- you take care of me. When it all gets too much, when I get overwhelmed, I know I can always look to you. You have become my safe place in the time we have been travelling together, and nothing makes me happier than the sparkle in your eye when you spot me across camp, or across a room, or even across a bloodied battlefield.”

“Mhhm.” You sigh in contentment, ignoring the burn in your thighs as you rock your hips into him. “You feeling good, baby?”

“Much better than good.” Gale’s cheeks are rosy, and his eyes have the absent shimmer of someone lost in pleasure. “Will you- would you kiss me again?”

Your heart melts.

“Of course.”

His lips are soft, and they taste of mead and blood- remainders of a long day. You don’t mind when you push your tongue into his mouth, especially not with the way Gale moans into you. You deepen the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair again, tugging gently. Gale’s thigh jumps at that and he lets out a strangled sound.

“Good gods, I-”

You freeze.

“Was that a good reaction or a-”

“Yes! Yes, good reaction.” He captures your lips again after he whispers, “do it again.”

You hum and fulfil his wish, pressing up against him as you gently tugging his curls until he tilts his head back. You can feel the softness of his belly against yours, and his fingers starting to dig into your hips though he knows better than to force your pace.

Gale moans, his hips pressing up into you in a way that really makes you feel just how hard he is. When you roll your hips, meeting him right where you want him, the outline of his cock slotting between your thighs so deliciously, a breathy curse falls from his lips. You tug at his hair again, and Gale exhales your name with such reverence it takes your breath away. 

Your kiss gets greedy, your tongue in his mouth, and you let yourself fall into him, panting as you chase your own pleasure, hips rolling, pressing down against the hard length of his cock. You break the kiss only to breathe, your lips swollen, and note with pleasure that Gale’s lips are rosy and his eyes heavy-lidded.

“You look so pretty like this for me,” you whisper, cupping his jaw in your hand again, stroking his cheek with a gentle touch. “Absolutely perfect. I never want to stop looking at you, my pretty boy, my sweet boy- my perfect boy. The way you worship me makes me never want to stop- makes me want to give you everything you ask for… what is it you want, my love? Do you want to come like this, filthy and quick and good? Or do you want to take your time- will you let me take care of you properly later?”

Gale groans, his lips parting and his brow furrowing as he ponders your question. You never stop moving, grinding down against him with shallow movements, savouring the sight of him beneath you, dishevelled at your hands and yours alone.

“We could go into town,” you continue as a plan slowly forms in your head. “We could rent a room, a proper one, with a real bed- enjoy all the luxuries the city has to offer for a night. Just us, nobody else: not the others, no gods or goddesses, no elder brain, no danger. Just us and the love we have for each other. Let me take care of you. Let me take my time and make you happy, let me make sure you have everything you have ever wanted. Because you deserve it, my love. You are so precious to me- you are everything. I would take down gods to taste you.”

Gale stares at you, and for once in his life, his words don’t seem to be enough. Then-

“I love you.”

You pause, taking in the sudden look of panic on his face, feeling the way his hands grasp at the material of your trousers in their search for something to hold on to, noting the way his lower lip is trembling and how he can’t look you in the eye. He does not expect you to respond. You can tell. He expects you to push him away and ease off his lap without telling him how you feel, because nobody has ever done that for him. The thought makes your heart shatter into a million pieces.

You tilt his chin up and hold him there until finally, he looks at you properly. You smile, and you have never meant anything more than you mean the words you say to him now:

“I love you too, Gale.”

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I'm losing my marbles pondering his orb. And his orbs.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon2 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @gub @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion @hexqueensupreme @unofficialavenger90 @frankiesghost @curtaincaramba @kimiheartblade @niqhtfell @campfull-of-weirdos

[feathereddawn]

Lego monkie kid: renewal prologue

Hey feathered here this is the prologue for my au fanfic please read the warnings before you continue.

Also enjoy the cover art for the prologue and please let me know what you think and any critics you may have.

Warnings this story contains violence blood shed some swearing and mentions of character death and mental illness such as depression and anxiety if any of this makes you uncomfortable please do not go any further.

Also please note there will be spelling and grammar mistakes I have dyslexia and will try my best to fix any mistakes

The dark dungeon walls where softly illuminated by a blue light coming from some chins in the middle of the room.

The chins held a prisoner a light ginger furred monkey who didn't look in the best shape his left ear had a small piece out his clothes torn and dirty he was under weight like he hadn't eaten for a few days and it was taking it's tole on him.

His breathing was labored do to how beaten up he was from the daily torture he has endured from his captures the lady bone demon and her loyal general. 

The chins cut into his wrists neck and tail he heard foot steps approaching his cell he looked up when the metal door opened with a creak he saw the lady bone demon herself and her general walk into his cell.

"Hello prince míngyuèzhu " the lady bone demon greeted her prisoner míngyuèzhu started to growl at her the sound would normally territory any who heard the sound but not the lady bone demon the general started to pull his sword from it sheath míngyuèzhu stopped his growling as soon as he saw a glint from the general's blade.

"Why have you come too see me demon" míngyuèzhu snarled looking up at her with a look of pure hatred in his light pink eyes "why to see if you have finally accepted your destiny of course" the demon said.

"Never I will never serve you my brother's will come for me sun wukong will-" míngyuèzhu said before he was cut off by the lady bone demon "he will do what exactly he doesn't even know your missing he's still trapped under a mountain being fed molten copper" she said looking at him with pity.

"oh you poor poor monkey no one will notice that your gone after all your only the great sage's disappointing twin brother the one everyone forgets about even the great sage himself forgets that you exist does he not" she said with a wicked smile on her face.

Míngyuèzhu looked away knowing some of what she said was true he was a disappointing brother for the great sage equal to heaven to have, a twin who hates fighting who would rather be great full for what he does have instead of wanting more míngyuèzhu always went along with what the monkey king wanted but when ever he would tell him to maybe be more great full for what they do have the king would only laugh and brush him off saying "it'll be fine nothing bad will ever happen" but look at where they both ended up thanks to wukongs arrogance and greed wukong trapped underneath a mountain being forced to drink molten copper and poor innocent míngyuèzhu capture and forced to serve the lady bone demon.

"What's with that sad look on your face for I have come to free you from that fate so your true destiny can shine as my loyal general who will help me accomplish my goal's" the demon said walking over to míngyuèzhu and cupping his face in her hands forcing him to look up at her smug face.

"I will never willingly serve you" he spat at her face she only smiled at him "Oh that maybe true of míngyuèzhu but the same can not be said of yèmíngzhu" she said.

"And who would that be" he snarled at her "why he is who I will turn you into my loyal general I will wipe away your memories of your sad old life and reshape you anew just like I plan on doing to this world and you will help me accomplish that" she said her smile growing larger as she saw the look of horror on míngyuèzhu face once he realized what she planned to do.

[oddmawd]

“THE HUNT” - Part 3 - a (N)SFW Kurama x OC Story

Part 1   |   Part 2   |   Part 3: “A Hunter’s Purpose”

SYNOPSIS: All demons have urges. Kurama has lived as a human for years, but those urges have not faded. Fortunately his wife is willing to explore the darker side of demonic attraction — even if that means becoming Kurama’s willing prey.

(AKA “Kurama and wifey go on a romp in the woods.” Explicit content.)

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRING: Kurama x OC (or kurama x 3rd person reader… OC appearance is left ambiguous, no name for her is given, and she is a cis woman)

RATING: Explicit, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Part 2 WORD COUNT: 12k (all parts = 26k)

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

SERIES CWs: safewords, mid-scene check-in, power dynamics, praise kink, married life, PIV sex, consent dynamics, explicit consent, predator/prey, consensual nonconsent, interspecies relationships, married characters, unsafe sex, orgasm delay/denial, multiple orgasms, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), predator/prey roleplay, bondage, biting, blood kink, dom/sub undertones, overstimulation, exhibitionism, outdoor sex, dirty talk, fear play, vaginal fingering, squirting, edging, begging, restraints, spanking, thigh riding, aftercare THERE IS SO MUCH ORGASM DENIAL IN CHAPTER 3 IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is PART 3; please read parts 1 & 2 for the full context of this scene. the characters depicted within have discussed consent, safewords and boundaries prior to the scene (and type of play) depicted in part 3.

this is also available on AO3.

if you enjoy this, i’d really appreciate a comment or reblog. it’s my first time writing smut and i wanna know if i should write more!

also this chapter gets off to an explicit start so i can’t preview any more than the first sentence before sticking a “read more” button into the text LMFAO enjoy you absolute degenerates (¬‿¬)

Part 1   |   Part 2   |   Part 3: “A Hunter’s Purpose”

It was just adorable, watching her squirm — or rather, watching her squirming cease was an adorable sight indeed.

One moment she lay there in his arms, writhing, seeking the high he made her crave. The next she froze as her impending orgasm was ripped away by the sudden stillness of Kurama’s hand. She lay in his arms without moving or speaking, shock etched around her mouth and startled eyes. But then Kurama’s low, dark chuckle reverberated in her spine, vibrating from his chest and into her back (pressed against him tight, so tight), and she gave a pained gasp of horror and discomfort that had his cock aching against her. Before she could speak or move, his hands slid, curling around her thighs and cupping beneath her splayed knees, holding her legs spread wide open to the cool night air. A glance down revealed she twitching pussy clenching around nothing as she sought an orgasm in vain. Her face, mouth arranged in a shocked ring, was absolutely priceless, nearly as engrossing as the treason in her gaze. Kurama groaned at that look of shattered betrayal, desperation, fury, unable to keep the sound contained.

The sight of her made him want to push her down and fuck her right there, replace that surprise with ecstasy — but not yet. The fury in her eyes said her fire still burned too brightly for what he had in mind.

Eventually she found her will to speak. “You — you bastard!” she cried, struggling against his grip. “You absolute bastard! You — ”

He leg go of one leg, but only so he could grab the hem of her shirt and yank it up and over her chest, shredding her bra with a rake of practiced claws. Her chest heaved when she gasped, nipples pebbled in the cool night air and at the feel of his claws scraping sensitive skin. She gasped again when he tweaked her right nipple with cruel precision, a hint of claw sending pain as well as pleasure racing up her back.

“Now, now.” Kurama spoke casually, as if he wasn’t holding her spread wide for any hapless passerby to see. He palmed at her chest, licking a stripe of fire up her neck and over the shell of her ear. “Is that a wise thing to say to the demon who has you completely at his mercy?”

She tried to ignore the shivers his touch sent skittering across her skin, struggling anew. “Get off of me!” she said, thrashing against him (and trying to ignore the press of his clothed cock against the small of her back, although that wasn’t easy given its sheer size). “Get off!”

But he only laughed, sound like silk made audible. “So weak,” he purred into her ear, licking again. “You’ll have to fight harder than that if you want to get away.”

His hand slid up her thigh to cup her sex; she couldn’t help the moan that slipped forth as his fingers pressed into her aching heat, other hand still caressing and plucking at her breast.

“Or perhaps you don’t want to get away at all.” He laughed in her ear. “So wet for me already, pet. My needy little whore.”

His mocking coo set a fire in her blood. She pitched forward with a hard yell, face burning with shame and embarrassment brought on by his whispered words. Because he was right, dammit: She was wet; she was aroused, she was needy as hell, and for him to just say it like that pricked at her pride. She was supposed to be resisting, god damn him, but when he knew exactly how to touch her to elicit a response from her disloyal body, holding back felt nigh impossible.

And Kurama knew it. He laughed and let her go. She was under no illusions; she knew she owed her escape to his whims, not to her own strength, and she felt predatory eyes on her back as she bolted to her feet and ran.

Kurama rose to his feet in a fluid flex of muscle, watching his prey pelt into the darkness. He didn’t give chase immediately. He noted with satisfaction the way she stumbled, but that evidence wasn’t enough to prove she was broken. She represented an easy catch by now, but she wasn’t worn down completely just yet. She needed to wear herself out a little more before he truly captured her. The way she rutted back against his hand while he fucked her on his fingers was due to her losing control, yes, but she was also trying to take control of her own pleasure, and that simply would not do. He wanted her at his mercy, only receiving, not trying to take.

As she neared the trees, Kurama’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. He brought his hand to his lips and dragged his fingers across his tongue, licking his palm and down his wrist, chasing the trail of her arousal that had dripped down his skin. He hadn’t been lying; she was so, so wet for him already, feet unsteady beneath her, no doubt hardly able to walk due to the ache already gathering between her legs. He’d used his fingers without mercy, after all. They were to prep her as much as they were to frustrate her.

If she wanted to take his cock — and she would take it, make no mistake — his fingers were a necessary prelude.

She was gorgeous when she ran, he thought admiringly. He’d shredded her jeans along the crotch and inner thighs, but rags still clung to her calves, waist and hips. Her shirt had fallen back down over her torso, but the curve of her ass remained on tantalizing display beneath shreds of ruined fabric, flesh bouncing with every strike of her feet upon the ground.

In her wake, something fluttered to the forest floor — a scrap of lace, pale and delicate against the dirt. A tiny bow clung to the fabric. Kurama recognized the remains of her bra, no doubt worn to entice, to arouse, to tease. It pleased him to know she’d prettied herself for his benefit. That she’d wrapped herself like a gift for his pleasure, submission written in lace even before they began the hunt.

Kurama didn’t let her get far, pouncing with demonic speed just after she breached the edge of the dark woods. A muscular arm burned her waist and sent her pitching to the forest floor, and before she could even yelp in surprise, Kurama had her by the ankle and flipped her onto her back. Two fingers of his other hand speared into her sopping heat without preamble. Her back arched at the intrusion, breath leaving her lungs as he pumped his hand with fireworks of tight pleasure, her own hands latching onto his wrist — whether to anchor herself, push him away, or pull him in even deeper he could not say. She tugged at the ankle caught in his grip, his claws raking and drawing the finest of scratches across her delicate skin.

Blood scented the air. Kurama’s cock pulsed against his leg, hard as iron and throbbing at the feeling of her cunt clamping onto his fingers as he sought out the patch of nerves along her upper wall that he knew would wreck her utterly. A single curl of his digits coupled with a hard thrust had her wailing into the night, spread out before him like a feast. And like the feast she was, he couldn’t help but taste her. He swiped the flat of his tongue across her ankle, sampling the blood that welled there and drawing from her an ardent moan.

“You’re pulling in my fingers like you want to devour me, pet,” he crooned, observing her desperate face with relish. “Clenching so hard it’s like you want to break my bones.” He bent, pulling her legs around his waist as he continued to brutally finger-fuck her, palm slapping against the meat of her pussy with every thrust. “Do you want to come on my fingers, my tongue, my cock?” he said in her ear before sucking a hard bite onto her throat. “Want me to take you? Want me to breed you like a good little whore?”

She groaned, but she didn’t say yes. She didn’t beg him to fuck her in earnest like he wanted. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing in hard circles just so. Instantly the fingers clutching his wrist went slack, her jaw dropping as her back bowed, a silent scream stretching her jaw wide. He released her leg to grab at her throat and give it a firm squeeze along the sides. All the while, his fingers kept rubbing and plunging and pushing, relentlessly driving into her tight, wet heat with the lewdest of sounds.

“All you have to do is give in.” Kurama rolled his hips against the place where thigh met groin, pressing his clothed cock against her in a hard rut. “Tell me you want me. Say the words you’re so shamelessly dripping down my arm, my needy little slut.”

But her face just twisted, hands tightening on his wrist again. “Kurama — feels weird,” she panted, back arching, pussy growing wetter around his hand. A jerk of his arm brought her leg to lie upon his chest, ankle over his shoulder. The new angle had her gasping again, hips bucking harder, panic crossing her pretty features. “I’m gonna — ”

“Oh?” he taunted. “You’re going to what?”

“I’m gonna — ”

“Use your words, pet.”

A desperate cry fell from her lips; fingers dug into his wrist. “I’m gonna come, Kurama, I’m gonna come, I’m — !”

Around him her body tightened, climbing to the cusp of release, muscles tensing, ready to take the plunge.

Inside her, his fingers went completely still.

Kurama knew her body well. He’d spent countless hours learning her preferences, making her come apart and putting her back together again with pleasure and attention. He knew just what her tensing muscles indicated, and he knew exactly when to stop to prevent her orgasm (and the burst of fluid that would no doubt accompany it) from cresting. The broken moan she gave and the way her eyes snapped open to look at him in desperation, in anger, had him grinning and groaning at the same time.

“If you want to come,” he told her, “you’ll have to beg me for it.”

Her hazy vision sharpened. A light glimmered in her eye, arousal fading as fury took its place. He had not married her because she was some wilting flower. He had married the woman beneath him because of her strength, her poise, her willpower — and she did not disappoint his expectations. She showed that willpower to him, then, as her ego reacted with scorn to his demand. His heart sang as she gave a defiant bellow and kicked his hands away, the leg over his shoulder bashing sideways to collide with his head. She was off like a shot after that, scent trailing behind her like a tempting flag. Kurama watched this in satisfaction, rising to give chase once more.

His favorite prey had some fight in her yet. She was not yet broken enough to devour whole. But in due time she would be — and that time was almost here.

The next time he caught her, she thought it would be over. She’d struck out at him again, fighting him off — and what had he said at the top of the falls? “Keep me from what’s mine and you’ll regret it.” Well, he’d certainly made her regret it. He’d brought her to the brink twice now, cruelly teasing her with pleasurable oblivion before ripping it away again. Now for sure he was going to chase her down and have his way with her. She just knew it.

And if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t going to complain. Her body throbbed with need, with unreleased tension, with desire. He’d wound her up tight. No doubt that had been his plan all along. Running brought her some relief, friction between her thighs making her breath catch in her throat with every step, but it wasn’t enough. Only he would be enough. She knew that in her bones.

And yet, he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted on her terms. He chased her down and pinned her to the forest floor just as he had the last time, buffeting her trembling body with his fingers until she was crying out with the need for release. But he stopped just before she hit her peak once again, as if he could sense it. And perhaps he could. He knew her body just as well as she did; better, in some ways. He waited for her to pant and keen and moan, dragging her right to the edge for a third, agonizing time before letting her go, just like before, a sadistic grin on his face.

And then he’d told her to run. She hadn’t hesitated, the gleam in his eye a dark promise she wasn’t sure she wanted to see fulfilled.

“Still not begging?” he’d taunted as she limped into the dark. “No matter. You will be soon.”

When he caught her again, he made her ride his knee while he wrapped his hand around her throat and applied pressure down the sides, claws pricking dangerously against her skin, head going light and floaty as he restricted her blood flow, watching her shamelessly grind and hump until she almost came from the friction of his pants against her cunt. But still he didn’t go further, forcing her again to run, playing catch-and-release over and over again, bringing her to the edge but not letting her fall over it even after she lost count of how many times he’d edged her. She was burning, throbbing, slick coating her thighs in a sheen visible even in the scant light of the moon.

He was wearing her down. Toying with her. Playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse. He could catch her and take her at any time, but instead he was making her run, knife in her ribs, limbs and muscles aching on her way through the dark woods. But why? He’d already proven he was the hunter, here, and she the prey. Why was he making her run like this? He knew her struggles were futile. So did she. Letting her give in would be so much easier for them both at this point. If she just threw her body down and waited for him, spread her legs like the wanton slut he’d claimed her to be, submitted like he’d been asking, let him end the torture —

“I can smell you, pet.” His dark voice drifted out of the trees all around her, as if it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. “You run, but you want me. You want to be conquered, to be dominated, to be used.” A wicked laugh made the hair on her neck rise, her pussy throb. “Say the words, submit, beg me for release, and I may just show you mercy.”

She could hear the sadistic smile in his voice — and suddenly she was angry. Her confusion vanished under the weight of a sharp burst of ire and frustration that made blood roar in her ears. She was tired and cold and on edge because Kurama had been teasing and edging her over and over again, and he was having fun while she suffered. This whole thing was torture! She just wanted to fucking come and wouldn’t let her and it made him happy to watch her squirm. He was enjoying this. That bastard!

Well. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her fall at his feet. She wouldn’t just give up — so the next time he caught her in his claws, she fought like hell, indignity spurring her to a ferocious crescendo of flailing limbs, snapping teeth and lashing nails that yanked and pulled at his long, silken hair without mercy. He let her go with a laugh that made her anger burn even brighter, fighting and bucking and writhing so hard he couldn’t manage to get his fingers insider her that time. Her body remained untouched (for once) when she at last broke free and ran.

“So the fight hasn’t left you yet, I see,” he yelled after her, delighted. “Good. I prefer my prey with a backbone.”

And she had one of those, she silently promised. She had a spine of steel, and she’d show it to him. He wouldn’t be disappointed.

But despite her best efforts and her anger-fueled second wind, she was only able to play catch-and-release a few more times before her limbs began to shake and tremble. Her fight came more and more sluggishly, Kurama able to bat away her fists and nails with little more than a shrug. Eventually he manged to catch her and pin her arms over her head, legs spread around his waist, immobilized by his body as hair framed her in a silver curtain. She breathed like a locomotive and with a stitch in her side. Although she felt totally exhausted, unable to give but the most pitiful of struggles, still she glared at Kurama as he loomed above her, furiously gnashing her teeth. She clung to the hope she looked intimidating, but at her display, Kurama threw back his head and laughed. He placed both her wrists in one hand and used the other to stroke her cheek.

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, I see,” he said with mocking sympathy. “You poor thing.”

“Get off.”Her heels drumming ineffectually against the backs of his muscular thighs. “Get off!”

“I would tell you to make me,” he teased, “but we both know you’re far too weak.” He snatched back his hand when she tried to bite him, noting how slowly she moved compared to before. Stroking her cheek again, he bent over her and cooed, “You can barely move, can’t you?”

He noted her fatigued languor with pleasure in his eyes, humming as he shifted above her. In the moonlight, blood gleamed on his chin and chest — evidence of when he’d bitten her and tasted her sweet blood. He licked the blood off his lips as he destroyed what remained of her clothes with his claws. He kept his movements slow and measured, popping off the buttons on her shirt one by one by one. She jolted as each one came free, gasping as he raked his hands through the cloth, shredding until it practically disintegrated around her. Then he yanked handfuls of rent strands away until her breasts and stomach and throat lay bare before him. He couldn’t help but lean and lap at her nipples, first one and then the other, tweaking them with the tips of his sharp teeth before kneading at her flesh with his lips and hands. She tasted wonderful, like sweat and fear and arousal so potent it tightened his groin past the point of comfort, cock straining and weeping inside his pants.

And she noticed, because said cock was pressed to her cunt, the huge length of it lying along the seam of her body and rocking against her slit. She moaned and arched into his touch, shivering when he tongue rasped down her throat and over her collarbone with a scrape of teeth. The bite wound in her shoulder throbbed as he mouthed at it; in sharp contrast to the pain, his fingers skimmed over her ribs and sides, ticklish, making her shiver, lighting her blood on fire with that feather-light touch of deadly claw.

“Tell me you want me, pet,” he said against her throat. “Submit.”

But she remained silent, merely sucking in a rebellious breath. Kurama destroyed the remaining fabric of her pants, too, tearing at it until her thighs, hips and calves lay bare beneath him. At last lying naked before him, he stripped off her shoes, grabbed one of her knees, and hoisted her high. She was practically doubled over under him, hips above her rib cage as his teeth skimmed the inside of her ankle, traveled the length of her calf, and down the inside of her thigh where her spilled slick shined in the starlight. He lapped at the skin there as he draped her knees over his shoulders, both of her wrists still gathered and restrained in one of his massive hands. His free hand splayed over her stomach, pinning her in place as he licked and sucked dark bruises onto her thigh while blood started rushing to her head.

“Say it,” he growled into her thigh, golden eyes gleaming in the dark as they glared down at her. “Submit.”

She weakly shook her head. “No.”

“No?” Kurama tutted. “Now that just won’t do.”

Without warning, teeth scored the inside of her thigh, drawing a thin and stinging line of blood across her skin. Her yelp of pain turned into a heated moan as he lapped at the cut, pulling flesh into his mouth and giving it hard sucks that would doubtlessly leave bruises. His eyes narrowed to slits as her blood mixed with the arousal staining her skin; he licked it up with eager laps, following the trail it led toward her trembling cunt. He studied it, watching the way it wept and drooled, clenching around nothing as she bucked, trying weakly to break free. The intensity in his gaze, the naked hunger there, set fear and anticipation roiling in her gut as she waited for what he’d do next.

But then something moved by her hands. Something fluttering and ticklish, light brushes she didn’t recognize surrounding her wrists with fluttering pressure. And then Kurama let go of her wrists and both of his hands were on her hips, claws pricking, but when she tried to pull her hands down, they didn’t budge. The tickling pressure pulled taut, keeping her in place.

She craned her head up. Leaves covered her arms from fingertip to elbow. Their mass shivered, growing down her arms, sprouting from the dirt to hold her immobile. Kurama laughed at her stunned expression, and when she looked up into his merciless, grinning face, she began struggling anew —

He growled and buried his face between her legs.

She cried out, struggles subsiding as his mouth alit on her flesh in a rush of warm, wet heat. A hard suck to her clit wrenched a scream from her aching throat as the fingers he’d sheared of claws found her entrance and pushed, slipping inside her with no resistance. She would’ve been embarrassed by her own needy wetness if she hadn’t been consumed by the fireworks going off inside her hips. His fingers curled and hit just the right spot inside her, lips and teeth fastening around her clit as they pulled and tugged, sucking pleasure out of her like a delicious drink. She couldn’t help but thrust her hips up toward his face with every pull of his mouth and press of his hand, unable to stop herself, body moving of its own accord as she lay there helpless under his mouth and teeth and tongue and hands. Pleasure skated over her chest and shoulders in tingling waves, entire body coming alive, every last nerve ending catching fire. He even lit her mind on fire. His gaze stayed locked on her face even as he sucked and lapped at her pussy, gaze never once wavering from hers, the desire pooling there reflecting hers and compounding it as she lost herself as much in pleasure as in his hypnotic eyes. Kurama’s golden gaze promised so much, anticipation heightening the sensations cascading from his mouth and hands into her pliant flesh. Her legs began to tremble, breath lurching in her lungs, pressure building and building and building until her body clenched tight, about to reach that edge and tumble over —

Kurama stopped. She gave a broken cry that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“Tell me, my pet.” He pressed a tender kiss to her thigh, at odds with the cruel claws tracing sharp patterns on her hip. “Do you want to come?”

She started to resist. To tell him no, stubbornly clinging to her dignity. But another sob wrenched from her chest, and all she could do was look at him and pant, spit gathering at the corner of her numb mouth. Kurama’s eyes glossed with pity at the sight of her helpless, needy expression. His mouth moved on her thigh, sucking another bruise into being.

“Look at you, trembling under my touch,” he said. “You poor thing. But I can help you.” Once again his eyes glittered with dark promise, sending a shiver down her nape. “I can make this all feel better. Don’t you want that?”

Powerless, she nodded.

“Then beg for it.” His breath ghosted hot over her slit, tongue lapping gently at her quivering entrance, tasting her. “Beg me to touch you, taste you, fuck you. Beg me to use you.” Claws tightened, digging in. “Say my name and beg.” The claws pricked harder when she didn’t reply, earning him a pained yelp. “I have been lenient with you, but I will not ask again.”

The intensity in his eyes had her shrinking, and she almost obeyed out of sheer terror — but she stopped herself. Part of her wanted to give in already, but... was this too easy? No, no, she had to resist, had to keep resisting, had to give him the chase he wanted. Unless... he’d said he wouldn’t warn her again. Did he want this to be over?

And then she saw the smug, satisfied glimmer in his gaze, and it made her teeth clench tight. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No!”

His eyes hardened at once. Like a striking snake releasing her flesh with a pop so he could nudge the flat of his tongue against her clit in a hard, rhythmic pulse. His fingers found her entrance and thrust, again focusing on her g-spot with unerring, cruel precision. She keened and moaned, hurtling toward the edge with embarrassing ease and eagerness. This time, surely this time —

But no. Once again he pulled away just as she brushed the edge of an orgasm, ripping the pleasure from her with a callous laugh. And then he did it again, and again, and again until she was crying openly, tears falling down her temples, emotion cutting agonized trails through the grime on her skin. Her world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth on her cunt, everything else falling away until she existed in a realm of nothing but painful denial, pleasure skating close and dancing out of reach like the ebb and flow of a sadistic ocean. She thrashed, babbling nonsense in Kurama’s arms, until he eventually lowered her to the ground. He pulled away and covered her body with his, letting her aching legs fall limp to either side of his hips.

She lay there, panting, as he sucked a collar of bruises onto her chest and throat, claws tracing around her nipples, tongue laving the bite marks on her shoulder and swirling around the shell of her ear. She shuddered and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers in a mockery of tender affection. His cock, still clothed, pressed against her, hips rolling until she cried out from friction and pure, distilled want.

“Please.”

His head raised when the word slipped from her. “Please what?” he said, eyes intent on her face.

“Please — please,” was all she could choke forth through the fog in her skull.

Kurama traced a claw down her neck, around her nipple, earning him a shaking sigh. “Use your words and say my name, pet, and I just may reward you.”

“Please, Kurama, please, I — ” Her body thrashed, legs clenching around his waist, lashes glossy with tears. “I need it, I need you, please.”

He pulled away, sitting up to look at her desperate, hungry expression and the way her legs fell open so invitingly around him. Beckoning him in as moonlight illuminated the slick pooling so messily on her thighs. Tears had made a mess of her face, bruises (his proud handiwork) littered her chest, mud and dirt and blood and cum caked almost every inch of skin — and she had never looked more attractive to him, never more ethereal and mouthwatering, especially in the moment she broke.

He saw the moment in real time. A thrill coursed through him and directly into his cock as the roaring fire in her eyes turned into something else. Something dark but still burning, an empty heat waiting to be filled.

Yes. There it was. The moment he’d been waiting for.

A moan more desperate and needy than all the others finally tumbled from her lips. “Please fuck me.” The words were a whisper, but they grew stronger with each one. “Please, Kurama. Please — I want you inside me.”

“Which part of me?” He rolled his hips against her cunt, watching her squirm. “Do be specific.”

She shuddered, eyes roaming, unfocused. “I..”

“Pet...” he growled, voice low with warning. “Tell me.”

Her voice rose into a desperate, trembling wail. “Your cock, please, I need you to fuck me, to make me come, fill me up, please, I need you, I need — ”

“You want me” (another roll of his hips, cock pressing tight) “here? Inside you?”

“Yes.” Her voice broke with a teary hiccup. “Yes, please, yes, yes!”

But Kurama shook his head, loving the way she looked at him with such pathetic need. “I’m not sure, pet. Do you deserve that?”

Another wail, even louder than before. “Please!”

Claws trailed over her stomach, over her breasts, toward her throat before his hand slipped around her neck. “Tell me who you belong to, then, if you think you deserve that from me.” His grip tightened. “Only good pets get fucked. So say it.”

“Kurama,” she babbled, voice strained under his fingers. “Kurama, Kurama — !”

His hand pulled tighter still. “Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you belong to me.”

“Kurama — I’m yours,” she sobbed.

“You belong to me,” he said, squeezing her neck once.

She gasped, tongue wetting her lips. “I belong to you.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

“Body and soul,” she mindlessly repeated, “I’m yours.”

“Mine to do what I want with.” He slapped a hand against her pussy, impact on her clit making her jump and shriek. “Mine to fuck, to use as I see fit.”

“Yours, yours,” she babbled through tears. All resistance had fled, leaving only the eager urge to please behind. “Do whatever you want with me, use me, use me, fuck me, I’m yours, I give up, I surrender — ”

She was like putty, boneless and limp, all fight gone out of her, drunk on the high of willing submission, mindlessly begging and agreeing in desperation because she was so intoxicated by lust, need and hunger. Hunger for him, and him alone. That’s what he’d been waiting for. That’s what he’d been trying to earn from her all night. Not submission meant to humor his desires, but true submission as the baser parts of her recognized him as her master, her hunter, her god — and god, she was perfect. Her submissive high fed his dominance, pride singing in his veins, filling him with confidence and validation of his power with every helpless word that fell from her trembling lips.

Kurama grabbed her hands and wrenched them up, vines uprooting but still wound tight around her wrists. She didn’t protest, only whine as he pulled her to his chest and stood, carrying them to a nearby rock at the base of a tall tree. Sitting, he positioned her face-down over his knees. Couldn’t resist dragging his fingers through her wet heat, smearing juices all over her cunt and thighs. She shuddered and moaned, face pressed into her inner arm, but that sound of ardor turned to pain when he brought his hand down on her ass in a harsh slap.

“Do you remember when you defied me?” he said, slap turning into a soothing stroke.

She swallowed. “N-no.”

Another slap had her crying out before Kurama pressed his lips to her ear. “Think,” he said, delighting in the helpless shivers making her quiver against the erection pressing into her clenched belly. “I know you can do it. Think back, to the moment before you completely disobeyed me.”

It was hard to fight the hungry, desperate haze clouding her mind, but she fought it entirely to please him, the lighthouse of his voice beckoning her through the fog — and she remembered. She remembered him cornering her at the top of the falls and commanding her to come to him, but she hadn’t listened. She’d thrown herself into the water instead. He smirked as understanding dawned on her face. He knew she knew what he meant, and the hand rubbing over her ass suddenly felt like a much darker promise than it had before.

“I told you that I would make you regret your disobedience, did I not?” he said, hand still teasing.

She swallowed, hiding her face against her arm. “Yes.”

But he wouldn’t let her hide. A hand in her hair brought her face up, Kurama looming over her with imperious indifference. “And do you suppose you’ve enough punishment already?” he asked, lips just a breath from her own.

Tears filled her eyes as hope filled her belly. “Yes,” she said, thinking of all the times he’d edged her. “Yes, it was enough.”

“I disagree,” he said, and the bubble of hope burst. “You still need to learn your lesson.” His hand lifted off her ass. “Count for me, pet. And if you lose track, there will be further punishment to follow.”

He waited for her to nod before the first spank cracked across he ass, and she choked out a strangled “one.” Somehow, even in her delirium she didn’t lose count, although she did lose her composure. She moaned with every strike, soothed between hits by a caress of claws down her spine and over her dripping heat. Every crack of hand on skin echoed through the forest like a gunshot, silent spaces between them punctuated only by the sound of her ragged breathing and his low growl of warning when she wriggled too much atop his lap. Despite the pain that lit her backside on fire, she was hopelessly aroused by the time he finished with her — aroused and sobbing with the force of it, in pain and frustrated because he’d been ignoring the part of her that burned the hottest.

“There, there,” he said, raking claws through her hair in a soothing stroke. “But isn’t that better, knowing how much you’ve pleased me?” The hand he’d spanked her with dragged low, knuckles brushing through her heat with a wet squelch. “You deserve a reward for being such a good girl for me.”

“Kurama...” she breathed, head hanging on the end of her boneless neck.

The hand in her hair tightened. “Thank me, pet, for this mercy.”

She rushed to appease him, knowing there could be consequences if she did not. “Yes, yes, thank you — ”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. She was on her back in the fallen leaves with hips hefted high again in seconds, and her hands remained bound as her legs came over Kurama’s broad shoulders. Fingers found her heat and skimmed through the sopping mess that had gathered there before spearing deep. She arched as he lapped at her clit, tongue swirling around it in broad, hot strokes. She sighed and relaxed, pleasure cascading like sparks across her skin and deep within her hips, building into a tight coil as heat bloomed across her chest and face.

“Kurama.” Her sigh turned into a breathy groan of pleasure. “Oh, Kurama! Please, more, I need it — ”

His lips pulled off her clit with a lewd pop, fingers continuing to thrust relentlessly into her cunt. “Louder for me, now. I love hearing you beg.”

“Kurama — !”

The heat of him, the way he rubbed that spot inside her that made her legs twitch around his head, the way he tongued and sucked at her clit, the hand with such bruising grip on her thigh — he didn’t falter this time or pull away when her muscles tensed. She came almost too quickly. The orgasm crashed over her so hard she couldn’t hear or see, entire body feeling like it vibrated apart and fell to pieces, slowly reforming as he lapped at her abused pussy, following her through her orgasm like gravity drawing her back to earth. She sighed and sagged, going limp and boneless as the last spasms of pleasure coasted over her body, making her clench from tip to toe — but Kurama didn’t stop when the rhythmic clenching of her cunt subsided, lapping away without pause, sealing his lips around her and sucking.

“Kurama,” she slurred. It was difficult to talk with her brain so fucked out and languid, but the sharp bursts of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain roused her from her stupor. “Kurama, wait — ”

But Kurama didn’t wait. He kept going, her sensitive flesh on fire under his unceasing mouth and hands. Suddenly she found herself struggling again, trying to worm her way off his shoulders and away from the mouth making jolts of pure fire arc up her bowing spine, but it was no use. He didn’t let her budge no matter how hard she bucked, no matter how loudly she yelled. His powerful grip held her in a vice, and suddenly she was aware of how much taller he was, how much stronger, how large the fingers in her cunt were, the sheer weight and heft of his muscles as he bore down on her comparatively tiny frame —

He was aware of it, too. He was aware of how fragile, how small, how delicate she was compared to him, and the way she struggled and got nowhere made his cock throb even harder. His hips moved, her body held at the wrong angle for contact, but he couldn’t help the way he instinctively pantomimed fucking her even as he continued to tongue her furiously, fingers still pumping and hitting her g-spot like he intended to carve it out of her. The perfume of her sex filled his nose, drowning out everything else, narrowing his focus onto her squirming body and nothing more. Her meager strength made him feel even more powerful, dominant, and in control as her muscles clenched, thighs squeezing around his head.

She whined, struggling against the vines and his claws alike. “Kurama, please. Please, stop, I can’t — ”

“You can,” he said against her pussy,

“No, no, I — ”

A growl ripped free; he lurched up, fingers not pausing, so he could glare into her shell-shocked eyes. His face gleamed with her slick and his spit, hair falling in tousles around his shoulders, silver reflecting moonlight like white-hot fire in his golden eyes. He was so beautiful in his fury that she could hardly bear to look at him, hardly appreciate him as she thrashed, pressure building painfully in her hips, tight and pinching and unavoidable.

“Kurama,” she pleaded. “Don’t — ”

“Don’t?” A hand descended to her throat again, tight. “You don’t get to make demands here, my conquered prey. Perhaps you did not receive enough punishment after all.” He bent to lick her cheek, tasting her tears and groaning. “You are mine. I won you. I defeated you. I claimed you as my prey. All you may do now is beg for my mercy and bend utterly to my whim.”

She was a hiccuping, crying wreck by that point. All she could do was nod, barely able to move with his massive hand stretching her neck to the fullest. Again she was aware of how small she was under him — and the sudden throb of heat, the louder, wetter sounds coming from his thrusting fingers, told her how much she liked it. He liked it, too, if his wild grin was any indication.

“Repeat it, pet,” he crossed, thumb lifting off her throat to caress her lips. “Repeat it so I know you learned your lesson. Tell me to whom you belong.”

“I’m yours.” The hand between her legs sped up, that thumb also rising to press without mercy against her aching, swollen, messy clit. Her back bowed at the pressure, eyes losing focus, drool slipping from the corner of her slack mouth. Eyes rolled back in her head as she babbled, “M’ yours, m’ yours, oh, Kurama, oh my god Kurama — ”

“That’s right,” he said, staring down at her splayed legs and soaked cunt in satisfaction. “Body and soul, you’re mine.”

“Body and so — soul, I’m...”

“Mine. You’re mine.” Words poured from him in an obscene litany of possession. “Mine to fuck, to use, to ruin. To taste, to touch, to torture. And you greedy, needy thing — you drink it down like air, don’t you? Drunk on my hands, my mouth, my cock.”

“Your cock.” Her lashes fluttered and her cunt clenched at the word. “I need — ”

“Patience.”

He released her throat and hauled her legs back atop his shoulders while she choked around a fresh lungful of air. Again his lips descended upon her sex, sealing around her clit and sucking until her legs kicked uncontrollably, as if he’d struck her kneecap with a hammer. He couldn’t tell if her cries were from pleasure or pain, but he guessed both, her body overstimulated past the point of being able to tell the difference. Her second orgasm (or perhaps the first had never completely faded) built fast, and soon she wailed, trembling, pressure coiling and building in her hips as she gives a broken moan. Drool and tears mixed on her cheeks and temples.

“You taste magnificent, my prey,” he said, lapping vigorously at her cunt. “The only feast that could ever sate my hunger.” He twisted his fingers inside her just so. “Now come for me.”

And she did, immediately, upon his command. She came apart at the seams like threads unraveling, pleasure unspooling in a swift lash like a cracking whip, snapping at her spine and straightening her legs like she’d been electrocuted. She wailed until her voice grew rough, tremors racking her overstimulated body as her vision whited out, blotting out the moon and stars, unable to do anything but lie there and take what he gave, and gave, and gave, giving all of herself in return. A ringing settled in her ears, one that matched the tremors of pleasure that echoed, bell-like, though her spent form.

She came down from her high slowly. She couldn’t speak. She just stared up with unseeing eyes, vaguely aware that Kurama had stopped touching her poor, aching, twitching clit. His fingers were still inside her, but he held her gently, easing her down to the ground so he could stroke her face and press his forehead to hers.

He looked... different. Something in his eyes had changed. She wasn’t sure what, though.

“Do you need the word?” he said, voice low and thrumming in her skull.

She didn’t understand. She just looked at him, vaguely aware of the spit on her jaw, that she probably looked like hell. But she felt amazing, so...

“The word is wisteria, my love. Have you forgotten?” His fingers slipped free of her sex when she didn’t respond, his gorgeous eyes narrowing with worry. “Do you — ”

His fingers left emptiness in their wake. Something feral clicked in her brain at the sensation of wretched loss, and words tumbled forth like hail from a thundering cloud.

“I don’t need that word, Kurama, I need more.” And the second she croaked that idea into being, her body came back to life, empty and aching; her legs spread and she would’ve reached for him if she wasn’t bound up so tight. Thrashing, head rolling side to side, she looked at Kurama and keened. “Please, more, please, I need you, please fuck me, please, I want you inside — ”

His feral growl matched the ferocious need in her chest. Kurama flipped her over, eyes flashing, and pushed her face into the dirt with a single hand buried in her hair, hips rutting into her ass so hard she almost pitched completely forward to the ground. He tore off his clothes in a frenzy, shredding fabric so he could palm his leaking, throbbing cock and press it to her drooling entrance, sheathing himself inside her in a single, clean stroke to the very hilt, reveling in her cry of pleasured agony as he hit the deepest parts of her. He mounted her with a bestial ferocity, setting a punishing pace that had her bouncing like a rag doll on his cock, and to his delight she came in just a few quick strokes. He hadn’t needed to touch her clit, she was so sensitive, crying and sobbing and screaming her appreciation into the night.

“Oh yes, yes, Kurama, yes!” she babbled as he continued to fuck her. “Fuck, fuck, so good, it’s so good, you feel so fucking good — ”

She spoke nonsense into the dirt, unable to do anything but surrender to the feeling of him stretching her insides, filling her to the point of pain. She’d never felt so full in her life; he packed her puffy, swollen, aroused cunt to bursting, forcing her body to stretch to take him, but she didn’t give a damn about the pain. His cock kissed something inside her with every stroke that had her seeing stars, another orgasmic high rising fast despite the brutality of the first (second? third?) she’d already ridden out. Despite all the prep Kurama had performed on her body, his cock was larger than his fingers by far; given how tightly she gripped him as he battered her cunt without reprieve, it was a wonder he could fit inside her at all. But the agonizing stretch felt as delicious to her as the tightness felt to him, and soon she was creaming around him again with a surge of wet heat, slick sliding down his sac and thighs. His vision narrowed, her scent in his nose blotting out all thought, heady and erotic.

“Needy, filthy slut,” he said, punctuating each word with a hard, unforgiving thrust. “Swallowing me so deeply, so wanton, so shameless. Like you’re trying to pull me deeper.” One hand crept low to rub and slap at her clit. “You want me come inside you, is that is? Want me to fill you up and breed you?”

And she responded in kind. “Yes, yes, Kurama, I want it, breed me,” she begged and pleaded. “So good, s’ good, it’s — ” Her eyes flew open, a surprised gasp filling her throat. “I’m gonna come again, m’ gonna come, m’ gonna — ”

His grip on her hair tightened, pulling her up and back toward him so he could look down into her face and lick at her throat. He used that leverage to bow her spine, fucking her even harder, the obscene music of their bodies colliding filling the forest sweetly. Soon he wrenched her head to the side and bit her shoulder again, opposite the bites he’d given her before. Warm blood filled his mouth and nose, the perfect complement to the scent of her cunt and arousal in the nighttime air. Feminine cries of pain blended in harmony with the slap of skin on skin, his name hoarse in her mouth, and the fucked-out look on her pretty face almost had him coming on the spot.

He stopped before he could, though. Turnabout was fair play. He drove himself to right to the delicious edge of oblivion, balls tightening, relishing the feel of her spasming walls and slick heat, but he didn’t let himself find release. Instead he froze, holding still inside her, feeling her pulse through the walls of her cunt and savoring the slick he felt trickling down his thighs. She panted and groaned, clearly not enjoying that he stopped. She liked it even less when he pulled both his cock and his teeth out of her body, crying her disappointment into the air. But Kurama only laughed and slapped at her clit again, earning him a yelp and a shudder of pained pleasure.

“Hush,” he said in her ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He flipped her again, on her back in the dirt, and hauled her legs over his arms with knees hooked over his elbows. His hands snaked around her thighs to grab her hips with bruising force, and then he slammed back inside her before she could even register how he’d moved her so easily beneath him. Only her back and shoulders and head touched the ground as he bounced her on his cock. Her eyes fluttered open and she bent backward, spine a beautiful arch of surrender, angle tilting the head of his cock upward toward her navel from within, sliding over and pressing at her g-spot with every hard, thundering thrust. Her tits jounced, nipples pebbled from cold and arousal, and he couldn’t help but bend and taste one as he moved. He needled it with his teeth until she cried out his name. Her areolas were nearly as puffy as her cunt where it clasped around him by the time he leaned back, kneeling between her spread legs to watch the way his cock dragged out of her, only to push back in. Her flesh clung to his so tightly, slick gliding over his cock, clit engorged, organ visibly bobbing as her cunt clenched around him. Smiling, he pressed his thumb against it and swirled, applying pressure the way he knew she loved.

It didn’t take long. She howled as she came, squirting from the force of him inside her, legs twitching and spasming, liquid splashing against his hips as he wrung that savage earthquake of an orgasm from her overstimulated sex. He nearly came again at the sight of her lolling tongue and pleasure-hazed eyes, gritting his teeth and fucking her through her waves of release, not stopping or changing his rhythms until she went limp and her pussy stopped drooling around his thrusting cock.

She groaned when he pulled out, lashes fluttering against her stained cheeks, and he swore to himself he’d never seen anything quite that beautiful before. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as he gathered her in his arms, lifting her against his chest and carrying her off.

Lips moved sleepily against his chest. “Kurama?”

He didn’t speak. He hefted her and pushed her back against the trunk of a tall, thick tree, pulling her legs around his waist and pressing tight to keep her aloft. Vines still bound her hands; he pulled them up and pressed them to the bark, too, above her lolling head. Nourished by a burst of his energy, the vines began to grow, snaking around the tree and up into its branches to anchor and suspend her in place. More vines crept downward to loop under her ass and thighs, cradling her weight, while still more beat a winding path around and around her arms, snaking behind her chest and around her neck. The leafy vines cradled her breasts and cinched tight, pushing them up invitingly. Yet more vines encircled her legs, pulling back her knees until she’s spread to the extent of her ability, thighs held open wide, her exposed pussy leaking fluid to the forest floor.

What a sight. Kurama couldn’t help but step back to admire his handiwork. He’d burn this into his memory, every last detail. When she gave a full-body shudder, head tipping back to rest against the bark, he moved forward to cover her with his enormous frame. She shuddered from the heat of him as he bent his head to taste her, tongue rasping over her pebbled nipples in long, sustained strokes. Unhurried. Taking his time to wind her up again, until her chest heaved under his mouth, her need rising in tandem with his own. She’d never felt so wide open and exposed, so vulnerable and helpless, utterly at Kurama’s mercy as the cool night air brushed against her overheated sex.

And that realization had her clenching again. More slick pooled, dribbling and flowing anew as she wined, “Kurama, please...”

Claws brushed her cheeks, oddly tender. “You are sublime, my perfect prey. Bound for me like a gift, my favorite toy.”

“Kurama... M’ yours.” She struggled weakly, wanting to reach for him and hold him, but unable. “M’ yours.”

He heaved a long, pleasurable sigh. “My name on your lips, crying out with need.” Lashes brushed his cheeks as he pillowed his forehead on hers, gold mere slits in his tan skin. “Such sweet music.”

His hand crept low, the barest caress skimming along her folds.

“Sing it for me again,” he said.

She was already arching, hips jerking, trying to get more. “Kurama!”

He pressed his finger inside her, swimming in heat and cum. “Again.”

“Kura...” His finger curled; her mouth dropped open wide. “Oh!”

Kurama chuckled, leisurely pumping one finger, then two into her exposed center. Her body undulated under his touch in time with every thrust. Vines curled under her chin, pulling her face up to expose her throat, a presentation of her surrender that had him groaning in anticipation and hunger. Legs spread and restrained, arms held in place, the seam of her body exposed and needy, clenching around nothing as she beheld the hunger in his eyes — he couldn’t decide if he wanted to taste her again or fuck her. But when her hips canted forward and her chest heaved, tongue pressing at the corner of her mouth, he realized he had no choice.

For all the power he had over her, she was the one in control in the most basic of ways. He would never truly hurt her. What he wanted was her pleasure. And if it was his cock splitting her open she desired, he would happily provide. That’s what hunters were for, after all. They provided for the hungry — and the look on her face spoke of hunger indeed.

“Oh, Kurama,” she breathed, the most exquisite agony lancing through her lust-darkened eyes. “Fuck me, fill me, please, please — ”

Kurama grabbed her knees and pushed them back even further, until she looked like a butterfly under glass. For a second he rutted against her stomach, cock spreading precum over her skin, organ reaching nearly to her bellybutton — an incredibly crude preview of how deeply he’d fill her, of how small she was to be taking his massive length. Her head dipped to stare at it, drinking in the sight of his prominent glans and the feel of the vein rubbing against her with every stroke. The way his cock dribbled, the way it throbbed as Kurama toyed with her... she whined and wriggled, trying to lift her hips, trying to get it inside her where it belonged. Where he belonged.

And the sight of her so needily thrusting at him proved his undoing. His knees bent, dipping just enough for him to slide the head of his cock to her entrance, popping past the initial ring of tight muscle to slowly sink inside her inch by torturous inch.

Her chest heaved, mouth falling open as she took massive gulps of air. He’d already fucked her tonight, but somehow he felt even larger than before, like she was being split in two, his massive cock filling her to the brim. She’d been prepped and fucked already, but the stretch was still so severe, so sweet and sharp. Only once his hips lay flush to her own, every last bit of his cock buried inside her, did she relax with a low moan. Her cunt fluttered and clenched around him like a vice.

He was filling her to the brim as he rose back to his full height. The vines held her at the perfect height for him to rock his hips against her, pelvis rubbing and pressing at her clit with every unhurried stroke. Her wet heat, the pressure, the way she moaned and sighed and yelped in his ear, a symphony. Kurama couldn’t help but add his own groans to it, pressing his face into her hair as he filled her again and again, drawing nearly all the way out before slamming back inside her.

“Oh, my pet.” He couldn’t resist licking at the tracks of the tears leaking down her cheeks. “Of all the prey I’ve ever pursued, you taste the sweetest by far.”

He thrust sharply into her. The angle held her body perfectly open and at the perfect height, Kurama’s cock touching her most sensitive places with every thrust. She gave a hiccuping cry every time he bottomed out, so deep inside he brushed her cervix, a kiss from the tip of his cock that left her head whirling. She’s huffed in time with his strokes, groaning his name, groans turning into shrieks as his thrusts intensified. Hard, sharp, with incredible force in a steady, measured rhythm, pleasure building and building and building. She begged and pleaded as he pounded into her, not even sure for what, just wanting more, more, more.

Cries like music in his ears, he slammed his hands to the tree over her head, gouging his claws into the wood for purchase. Sap trailed down his arms in sticky rivulets, but he didn’t care when it pattered into her hair and his alike. He could only feel the inferno of her body wrapped around his, so willing and submissive and hot.

“Tell me again, pet,” he panted. “Tell me to whom you belong.”

“You, you, always you,” she panted, babbling her pleasure for him. “I’m yours, Kurama, use me, please, I — oh!”

Her orgasm blossomed around his cock in a rush of heat and slick, her wails piercing the night like his claws in the ruined tree, and then he was coming, too, driven over the edge by the sight of her face and the feel of her body reaching that coveted peak. An explosion of pleasure in his spine and hips had him pumping deeply into her body, fucking rope after rope of cum into her hot, slick walls, pushing it as deep as he could get it, coating her inside and out with his spend. His claws raked the tree while he roared his pleasure, reveling in his aggression, his dominance, his strength, her submission, sending sap and splinters flying as he buried his cock in her cunt and his face in her hair, breathing ragged.

By the time he lifted his face from her tresses, fire in his body dimming, she was asleep (or perhaps unconscious; he wasn’t sure). Her body dripped cum and drool, fucked out of her mind into an unfeeling stupor. Kurama eased his claws out of the tree and dragged a sap-slathered knuckle down her cheek.

They would have to do this again. Soon.

She drifted in and out of consciousness. Vaguely she felt someone carrying her, and then soft hands and soothing words sent her deeper into slumber before she eventually woke up. She wasn’t sure where she was, at first. She smelled green and growing things, soft wind and distant rain before she opened her eyes. The terrain around her was alien — some kind of huge bowl made of woven tree limbs, a gigantic cup many meters across and open to the sky above. Leaves and branches waved around the edges of the structure, rising from it like the ends of a basket no one had finished weaving. She got the sense they were high off the ground, as no trees blotted out the stars. A living arbor up in a treetop, or something like that. No doubt Kurama’s handiwork, she thought as she lay on her back, studying the stars whirling overhead. But when, and where...?

Slowly, the night came back to her. The forest. The chase. The hunt. The way Kurama had fucked her in the mud beside the falls, chased her through the woods time and again, then finished the job in the forest. Her cheeks heated at the memory, haze abating bit by bit. She’d been covered in filth by the time he fucked her against that tree, but now she felt clean. Warm. Dry. There was a blanket under her, she realized. And a warmth in her belly, pressure in her hips, a moan slipping from her mouth as she realized she was aroused. But when she tried to move, a hand on her abdomen pressed down, keeping her still.

Her head lifted from the blanket. Kurama lay between her legs, crimson hair fanning across her thighs like spilled blood. He’d returned to human form, but his actions were more foxlike than human. He’d pulled a thigh over his shoulder so he could lick gently at her center, pushing his spent release back inside her with his tongue when it dribbled free. Gently and methodically, he cleaned and stimulated her, not pausing even when their eyes met. He just smiled around his task, the faintest of growls vibrating against her sex when she moved again. A sound of mild warning not to interrupt his meal.

She breathed deeply, head falling back down as her eyes squeezed shut. “Kurama. No more,” she groaned. “Please.”

But he only chuckled. “Lie still.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “Can you be good for me and do that?”

She obeyed with no thought to resistance. Too spent to protest, too exhausted to fight as he slowly — oh so slowly, oh so sweetly — brought her to another trembling orgasm, this one rolling through her in soft, undulating waves like the rocking of a boat on a gentle tide. She carded her hands in his hair while riding out the feeling cresting through her, and when she at last lay still and sated, he gathered her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair, her forehead pressed against his bare chest. Her body felt heavy and warm, like sand baked under a hot sun had trickled into her limbs, or maybe it was flowing honey that held her body down with the sticky-sweet flavor of exhaustion. Her pelvis ached more fiercely than it ever had in her life. Kurama had been right when he said she’d be in no shape to travel by the end. She could hardly find the strength to speak. Her hips and knees were in the worst shape. Probably because of that spread position he’d suspended her in against the tree...

“You did well,” Kurama murmured into her hair.

She smiled sleepily against his chest. “No safeword.”

“I’m proud of you.” Adoration lingered in every word, praise curling her toes with delight. The hand on her back telegraphed love and support, appreciation and worship. “You were so good for me. So perfect.”

Shyly she asked, “Was it what you wanted?”

“Everything I needed and more.” The utter sincerity in his voice gave way to concern. “Though I hope you know I would have stopped if you had asked me — ”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Didn’t want you to stop. Was fun.”

“Yes.” A kiss ghosted over her forehead, warm and soft as he brushed a hand up and down her back in a repetitive, comforting stroke. “It was.” 

She hummed into his skin. “Never did kiss me, though.”

“An egregious oversight,” he said, comically serious. “Shall I rectify the error?”

Her head tilted back, lips parting around a breathy murmur of, “Please.”

It was precisely the wrong word to use — or perhaps, depending on your point of view, it was actually the perfect word. It brought to Kurama the echo of her begging for him earlier in the night, her words sparking a fire in him both then and now. He growled, eyes flashing as he buried a hand in her hair and kissed her, other hand wandering over her body until she panted against his mouth, breathless from the pull of his lips and the slow, sensuous slide of his tongue. God, how had he resisted kissing her that entire time? How had he neglected her perfect lips, molding to his with such soft passion?

He couldn’t resist rolling her beneath him, hands wandering as she stretched and settled onto the blankets. Kurama pinched and teased, stroked and petted as he nudged her knees apart and knelt between her thighs. He sat up to view her spread and pliant body, observing her nakedness like a conqueror surveying his kingdom. The bites on her shoulders, the bruises on her throat and chest, the light scratches down her sides and hips and thighs... magnificent, he thought, and his cock stirred against his leg. He was naked, too, and slowly he stroked himself, dragging the tip of his cock through her folds until the tip gleamed wet.

Her back arched, chest stuttering. “Pretty — pretty sure you called me a whore, by the way,” she mumbled, peering up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Yes.” He hummed, studying the way her body reacted to his, adjusting his touch to draw forth a whine and a moan. “I did.”

She shuddered beneath him. “A-and a slut.”

Kurama smiled, stroking the inside of her thigh, still teasing her with his cock. “Are you angry? You shouldn’t be. I said it with all affection. And besides.” He traced circles around her clit with the head of his cock, gesture maddeningly light, slick and blunt and smooth. In the softest, sweetest voice he had ever deigned to use on anyone, he said, “Isn’t that what you were tonight? My whore?”

“Only yours,” she said, head falling to the side, looking away in embarrassment.

“Yes. Exactly.” He took hold of her face with one hand, making her look at him, punctuating every word with a swipe of his cock. “My whore. My pet. My prey. Mine, and mine alone.”

She gave a little cry when he pressed his tip to her entrance and pushed, slowly sliding through her initial resistance before sinking in deep. Soon his hips settled against her, and he gathered her legs around his waist as he gave a deep, measured thrust. Her breasts bounced, head lolling from side to side as she gripped his wrists above the hands settled so firmly on her hips.

“Kurama, I’m...” She shook her head back and forth, back and forth, trembling around the stretch of him inside her. “I can’t...”

“You can,” he soothed. “You can take it. And you will.”

He pried her left hand off of him and pressed his palm to hers, fingers interlocking. He leaned over her and pressed her hand to the blankets over her head, chest resting on hers so he could feel every heartbeat, every breath, every muffled moan as he thrust.

“You will take what I give you and offer your everything in return, and more,” he said, groaning into her hair. “Always more. You gave yourself to me tonight, body and soul. And the sun has not yet risen on this hunt.” He pulled back but kept her hand pinned, their palms locked together tight, so he could stare into her eyes and smile. Words dripped like honey into her ears, dazzling and so very, very warm. “One more, my love. You can come for me one more time, can’t you?”

She broke, coming instantly around him with a sob, pussy clenching and fluttering around his cock with another gush of arousal, the scent of it the most intoxicating perfume imaginable to Kurama’s sensitive nose. His head tipped back, hair falling over his shoulders in a crimson rush.

“Yes,” he purred through a groan. “That’s my good girl. My pet. My perfect prey.”

But Kurama was not a noble demon. His request of just one more orgasm was a lie. Before the sun rose after the night of the hunt, one more turned into two, then three. She soon lost count of how many he stole. But that was as it should be, because it wasn’t her job to count, to think, or to wonder. Only to feel, and to take all that he gave her.

After all — she was prey that night, and Kurama was the hunter. And hunters are meant to provide.

fin~

Part 1   |   Part 2  |   Part 3: “A Hunter’s Purpose”

NOTE: thank you for reading my first smutfic! i would love a reblog or comment if you liked it so i know i’m not embarrassing myself by writing smut LMFAO...

if you’d like more smut or a longer kurama/oc story, i’m currently writing a longfic called The Sight Unseen... it’s kurama x oc and it’ll get smutty starting in chapter 21 or so... I modeled the oc in The Hunt after the lead oc in The Sight Unseen, so if you liked this main character, you’ll probably like Rei, too... here’s the summary for that fic if you’re interested:

Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends... specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her.

Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must take refuge at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

READ IT HERE: The Sight Unseen on AO3 | The Sight Unseen on FFN

 thanks for reading and have a nice, smutty day you absolute degenerates (◡‿◡✿) 

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

[its-me-im-coraline]

NSFW Alphabet // Ethan Torchio

words // 2383

warnings // smut, clearly its nsfw headcannons

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader (might be mentions that seem like they are for f reamer but comeon theres lingerie for every body 👁️👄👁️)

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. an apology to the people on my tag list i think i accidentally have not been tagging you this whole time i am so so so sorry omg

request // yes, it was a reblog i cant find it right now

summary // self explanatory

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Regarding you, Ethan is the king of after care. As rough as he can be in bed, that’s just how sweet he can be once you're done with it. Goes full on dad mode (don’t know how else to explain this). He will have water, painkillers if you’re now in pain, a washcloth to clean you up, new clothes, and of course the cuddles.

“I’m alright, Ethan. I can do it on my own,” you say as Ethan walks to you with the wet cloth ready to clean the mess he made on your body.

“I know you can, amore. I just want to take care of you,” he says as he leaves a kiss on your lips.

I can also see him being the one to make a big fat breakfast the morning after, or at least get up early to pick something up.

Now I also feel that he is in need of some aftercare. It depends on the day really, if he’s had a pretty rough day and all I feel like he’d ask for some backrubs after. In this case he’d fall asleep so quickly like omg. But on the biggest part I see him feeling the need to reassure you that the things he said (i think we already established that this man would call you a slut) are not how he feels about you and will be asking if you feel the same.

“Do you love me?”

“Wha- of course I do, Ethan! Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know… I guess - I guess I am worried that you don’t after what I said.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When it comes to himself I feel like he really likes his chest and arms. Like I don’t know but I see him really getting off with you pretty much mastubating on his chest. Ya know what I mean? (i think you do you little sluts). He pretty much enjoys anything you do on his chest. I can imagine him looking at the mirror after you two had sex, seeing the cum on his chest along with the marks you have left and just smiling.

“What are you looking at, love?” You ask, seeing as the man is standing in front of the bathroom mirror from your spot on the hotel bed.

“Nothing, just the mess you made.”

“Mhm, and I bet you like it, huh?”

“You have no idea… Hey, are you sure you got tired? Cause I think I can do another round.”

As for his arms, as I said, he simply really enjoys that he can man handle you anytime, get you in any position he likes and feel you scratching them from the pleasure.

When it comes to you, Ethan is an ass guy. Say what you want but the man is an ass guy, end of discussion. He loves anything that involves your but. It does not explicitly have to be something like anal. He simply enjoys seeing your butt and holding it in his hand. It does not matter if it’s big or not, if it has stretch marks or whatever. Wear lingerie that he likes or that itty bitty teeny weeny bikini if you wear them or even some tight pants that make your butt just poìp and he can not contain himself.

I think I have said that to someone here (i think I had sent an ask to zodi @ icouldbeyourputtet) before but I feel like this man is very into spanking, like not even the rough malicious way. but this very wholesome chill way.

You had been talking about it all day, not having had a minute alone with each other for days, you could only dream what you could do that night after everyone left.

A playlist was playing in the background and a cigarette was burning on the ashtray next to your legs, you assuming a similar position, as said cigarette, bent over Ethan’s lap as he caressed your ass cheeks and back, playing around with the lingerie set he had gifted you a while back. (Did I just go to search my fave porn vid, lol exposing myself, and get disappointed because I can’t find it and translate it into fanfiction? yes yes i did, so bare with what i can remember)

“It’s okay, baby, you can take a little more, come on,” he praised, leaving a spank and yet another soft rub on the very red cheek.

He continued, going with the music, a very nice pattern, not very rough spanks but just enough to cause pain, pleasure and redness all over. Accidentally the man landed a few very rough ones causing a gasp and a series of giggles as you practically fell off his lap.

“Ethan, what the hell?” You laughed getting up from the floor and this time sitting on the man’s lap, sharing kisses with him.

“What,” he copied your action and laughed, “it was not intentional. I got carried away by how nice your butt is.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is and is not messy. He will not want the cum to be in every surface possible you know, he will be careful but at the same time this man just loves to see his cum on you, whether it’s your back or your stomach, or in you if you’re ok with it. I bet he has a teeny weeny breeding kink but not necessarily because of the idea of breeding you but rather because he looooves seeing his cum run out of you… I'm not sure if this falls in the breeding kink category but alright

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to fuck you while watching porn.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he is pretty experienced. From what they band has said in interviews and stuff, he seems to be getting some pretty often (no one, NO ONE, is surprised at that). He is not acting arrogant tho (not unless that’s the dynamic of the night), he is willing to learn what works for you and you specifically

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As I said this man is an ass guy so I’d say anything that involves having the view of your ass. Humor me but i think he’d really like 69 with a female/afab partner (don’t know if this works very well with two dick-baring people lol). It has it all, eating you out,

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think it can be both with him. He will not exactly try to make jokes but if something like the previously mentioned spanking incident happens it’s def welcome.

Now as a general rule I see him being pretty serious. I will be honest, I’m getting brat tamer vibes from this man so it’s all pretty serious when you really get into it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Considering he’s an Italian man and if you look at a lot of photos of him he def fit the ‘mediterenean’ man type. I see him just barely grooming. I don’t see him really shaving or whatever but he also wouldn’t want you to choke on pupic hair, he much rathers you choke on his dick

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends, really. He can be quite intimate with you but it all depends on the moment. There are different occasions for everything. For example, and this is a paradox that I hope I’m explaining well enough to understand, he is not very rough (will not be very aggressive and stuff, like to the extreme those tik tok boys want to pretend they are with their * growling * ew) but he will be rough. intimidating looks, spanking just enough to make you feel pain and redden up your ass cheeks. He’s like that mostly when you are being bratty.

Most of the times, like we’re talkin kind of lazy sex moments, it more wholesome ig, like very intimate and just comfortable and almost comforting. Ok, but like why do i see him having sex and having casual conversation (not the most common, i see this as like lazy day off, having nothing else to do and not being like super horny but being more like h o r n y … am i making sense?)

Setting the scene, you two are at home, both have a day off but it’s kind of raining so any of your plans are ruined. At this point it’s at around 10 am, not early, not late. You have missed each other and both have made it obvious but you are both in a very tired state so you opt for something not too much.

Plain and simple missionary is what goes around this time, Ethan on top just holding your legs around his waist,, going at a pretty medium pace.

“It’s a pity the weather is bad today,” says Ethan staring out the window.

“I know, we were going to go to the beach… I’m bummed about it,” you say, short of breath as the man continues his pace fucking you.

“Mhm, true. But this is better, amore, no? I’ve missed you so much,” he breaths out the last part, moans interrupting his words.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does that pretty often, especially if you are not around to help. Sometimes it’s because of you that he needs to. I would def see him exchanging naked pics with you and at first he does that to tease you but he ends up teased when he sees a video you sent of you masturbating.

Bets that he’d be taking photos and vids of you fucking on occasion so he goes to these when he misses you on tour.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As I mentioned previously I see Ethan to be a brat tamer. That I see to be the main kink that kind of works around everything else.

“Can you stop this, slut? It has gotten exhausting. I told you no noise but here you are,” he ordered, looking down at you trembling below his finger tips.

His face was quite stoic, voice never wavering from the strict and cold tone he tended to have when scolding you on the daily. Most times it was leaving a cup out of the sink but this time the scolding came from misbehaving. As if it was not enough that he was punishing you for being a brat and riling him up all morning, now you had to disobey orders. It was getting to him for sure.

“I’m sorry daddy,” you whisper, Ethan seeming satisfied with the response.

“Aw, why so tame puppy, now you decide to be nice?” His tone stayed the same, his words imitating a joke but the whole ordeal was not even close to it.

Now as for other kinks (did I open a site because I could not think? yes, shut up), as a result of being a brat tamer dom there are some few more kinks accompanying specifically that. He is def into bondage, both tying you up but also being tied up on occasion.

“Puppy, I have told you that is not a way to treat me. Untie me,” he says calmly, wrists tied on the headboard of the bed, eyes fixated to you.

“Well, why not? You do it all the time,” you whine, placed on all fours, facing Ethan as you lean towards him on your hands, “I want in on the fun.”

If only he was not tied… Ethan’s mind was already going places, figuring out exactly how he would punish you after you untie him -or after he escapes the restrains, whatever comes first. You knew that, very well - in all honestly that was the plan, that is always the plan.

“Amore, let me go. Let me go and your punishment will be tame,” he voiced looking at you, now positioned on top of his lap, touching yourself right then and there.

“I sense you want to be punished puppy, don't you?” You simply nod your head, eyes closed in pleasure.

“You see, the problem is you will not enjoy what I am thinking.”

“Mhmn.”

“Well, get yourself off now that you can, cause after I get my hands on you… You’re not getting to cum for days, amore.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, anywhere. I can see him having a preference to the luxury of either of your houses or a hotel room but if you push his buttons just right, some restaurant’s bathroom it is.

why can i imagine him having sex at a weeding venue’s bathroom….. omg…..

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly, both. I feel like he would be extremely good at giving it, but would never opposed to receiving

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s ok with them but he doesn’t love them, ya know?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

Is surely try to do new things but it will always depends on what it is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Come on. This goes without saying. He is a drummer for a living. He can surely go on for long…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I def feel like he has a fair amount of toys. Some for himself, some for you… He looooves using them to punish you.

(small mention to my last fic little puppet)

“Beautiful, puppy! You have been doing so good for us, taking your punishment so well, but we are not done yet.” A buzz sound is what concerned the girl, eyes widening at the toy.

It was a small remote virator, imitating sucking on the clit. The drummer placed the girl over his knees, stuffing the toy between his leg and her clit, shocking the sensitive bud. “I think you can take a few more spanks,” said the man, landing one at the expanse of her thigh, the skin giggling at the contact.

“Damiano, count,” ordered the assertive man, seeing his friend kneel in front of Y/N, kissing her and then doing as he was told.

“I think we were left on twenty-three. Twenty four,” he began, counting all the way to forty before the ordeal was over.

The whole time Y/N was shaking, just about to fall off the edge, asking for permission to cum but her wishes were not granted just yet. She was exhausted, overstimulated, frustrated, and now unable to move on her own. But, oh man did she need more. The two men were more than willing to assist her.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A ton! It’s his specialty. Maybe one of his most common punishments is edging and teasing. He can drag it on for days

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not very loud but is surely encouraging you to be.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost

[cevansfics]

Promise?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve finally comes home after being away for so long.

Word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: language, very brief mentions of blood, not too much detail, fluff, a little angst, SMUT 18+ NO MINORS

A/N: this is a repost of an older fic that I rewrote a little

if anyone wants to be added to my tag list, let me know :)

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6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since Steve left for his last mission. That's the longest he's ever been away from you where he can't make contact. At first, you didn't think much of it. Everything seemed normal. Steve told you he would be a couple of day tops. He went on missions all the time. He's Captain America, for crying out loud. It was normal. Even after the first week and a half had gone by, you hadn't begun to worry, you sometimes knew things would get out of hand, and he would end up having to be away longer.

You weren't an Avenger. You weren't part of the 'team'. At first, when you first started dating Steve, everyone was standoffish when it came to you. It never bothered you. With their line of work, you just guessed it was normal for them not to trust easily. Soon enough, everyone came round to liking you, especially after seeing how happy you and Steve were together. So usually, when Steve left for a mission, someone would update you even if it was just to let you know they were on their way home, but this time everyone had been called out. The worry started to set in around the third week of him being away. You hadn't heard a word. All Fury would say was the mission had got extended, but he knew everyone was safe. That helped you relax a bit. Fury wouldn't lie about everyone being okay, would he? He promised to let you know when he heard any news from anyone or when they would be coming home. You knew Steve could take care of himself, but that didn't make you any less concerned for his well being. You just had to keep yourself busy telling yourself, Steve would be home before you know it.

So you did just that, kept yourself busy. Working more hours than you needed to. You took up reading any book you could get your hands on, watching all the crappy TV imaginable just so you had something else to think about. It worked, during the day, that was. Come night time, being alone in the apartment you shared with Steve was when your mind would wander. By the time the sixth week came around with him being gone, you were only sleeping due to exhaustion from worry.

One late evening after finishing dinner, putting away the leftovers in the fridge, you were cleaning the kitchen when you heard the front door to your apartment open. You froze. Stopping to listen for any sign, it was Steve. When you hear something metal being dropped to the floor, instantly you knew it was his shield. You dropped the plate you were cleaning in the sink and rushing into the living room. As soon as he laid eyes on you, his face broke out into a smile.

"Hi, doll." He said, barely a whisper. Finally, he was there standing in front of you after 6 excruciatingly long weeks. You still hadn't moved or said a word, holding your breath, afraid that if you said or did something that he would vanish from in front of you. He slowly opened his arms for you. Motioning for you to go to him, still with that beautiful smile on his face. Your shoulders dropped, without hesitation, you ran to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck with his arms slipping around your waist. You heard him grunt as your gripped hold of him, afraid you'd hurt him. You tried to pull away, but that only made his grip tighter as he nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing you in. Closing your eyes, running your hands up his neck into his hair. Feeling him, holding him, knowing he was home and alive, you never wanted to let go.

After what felt like forever just standing there and holding each other, you loosened your grip on him, leaning back from his embrace. Realizing you didn't get a proper look at him. You finally noticed he was still wearing his suit, which was unusual for him, as he always got changed before he came home. Your eyes, shifting over his face, seeing bruises running along his jaw. He has a tiny cut above his right eyebrow, blood running down his face, ever so slightly. He was also filthy, covered head to toe in dirt. Making you think what on earth he had been up to on his mission. Carefully you brush the back of your fingers over the bruise, then you cupped his cheek. Careful not to hurt him. Steve sighed as he leaned into your touch. Reaching to hold your hand as he turned to place a single kiss in your palm, all while keeping his eyes closed, enjoying your touch.

That's when a small cry seeped out of your mouth, one that you were trying your hardest to keep contained. You had never seen Steve like this before. Hearing the sound that came from you made Steve's eyes dart open, noticing a single tear had escaped your eye and was running down your cheek. Quickly wiping his thumb over it.

"Hey, Shhh, it's okay sweetheart, I'm okay, I promise." He pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek where the tear had fallen, then another on your forehead. He pulled you closer to him as your face on his chest.

"I-I'm sorry," taking a second to compose yourself, you sniffed, holding back more tears, "I just have never seen you in this condition. It's a bit of a shock." You tried to explain. That was the truth, despite being while him for a while, knowing loosely what his job entails, only being able to guess at what happens on missions. Yet you hadn't seen him this injured and dirty, especially to this extent.

"I know, I'm sorry. Our communication was cut off, so I couldn't let you know we were okay and on our way back. It had just been so long since I'd seen you so, as soon as we had landed, I came straight here. I didn't even think, I just needed to see you, I should have got cleaned u-" you cut his rambling off by pulling his lips to yours. He was stunned at first and didn't react as you caught him off guard, but he soon leaned into the kiss, his mouth moving against yours in the same slow rhythm yet with so much passion, gripping your body so tight it hurt a little.

"Don't apologize. It's just a bit of shock seeing you like this."

Placing another peck on his lips, you take a deep breath settling your emotions before continuing. "Right, so here is what's going to happen. You are going to get out of that god awful, filthy suit. I will run you a nice hot bath, you will relax, then after, I am going to warm you up some food, if you are hungry, then we are going to snuggle in bed, ending with you getting some much-needed sleep. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me. It would sound a lot better if you were in the tub with me." He expressed with a wink and a smirk. You just laugh. Only Steve would suggest such a thing even in his condition. Turning to walk down towards the hall to the bathroom, calling over your shoulder as you did.

"Suit. Off. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." You heard him mumble as lean over the bath turning on the water. Adding some bubbles, not too much as Steve wasn't a fan, but even with a small amount, it filled the room a nice fruity smell. Once the tub is full of water, you turn off the taps and turn to face the door when you see Steve walking into the bathroom. He had done as you asked and taken off most of his clothes. He was now standing in just his underwear. The dirt on him only seemed to cover him from the neck up due to him having his suit on, but you could see a big purple bruise covering the right side of his rib cage. Reaching out, you gently trace your fingertips over the edge of the bruise before shaking your head slightly. Trying to rid yourself of the dark thoughts of what had happened to Steve while he was away. Looking up at him, you see that he's going to say something, but knowing what he's about to say, you stop him.

"I know, take these off and get in before it gets cold. I'm just going to get you a towel from the cupboard." You say, snapping the waistband of his underwear against his flesh before you slip past him out of the room.

While you were getting him a towel, you heard the water sloshing around meaning, Steve had got into the tub. Heading back into the bathroom, you see him lying there, surrounded by bubbles leaning back with his head resting on the edge of the tub with his eyes closed.

"You comfy?" You ask with a slight chuckle as you try to lighten the mood.

Steve eyes open as he answers, "Why yes, thank you. It's very hot."

"It's supposed to be. Will help relax your muscles."

"You getting in?" You hear the hopefulness in his voice; he needs this just as much as you do.

You nod as you pop open the button on your jeans and start to pull them down. Steve rests his head back against the edge of the bathtub, this time keeping his eyes open and locked on you as you start to undress. Once your jeans are off, you quickly pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving yourself standing in your bra and panties. You turn to face the mirror, wasting not time wanting to take off what little make-up you had on before you got into the water. While looking in the mirror, you can see Steve's eyes had dropped, focusing on your ass.

You chuckle before asking, "See something you like?"

"Always," he replies, clearing his throat. Turning back to face him, you slip your arms around your back to unhook your bra sliding the straps over your shoulder letting it drop to the floor. Followed by you removing your panties. His eyes never leave you. Noting every move you make as you undress. He takes in the sight like it's the first time he's ever seen you naked. Carefully you step into the bath and sit down. You are at the opposite end of the tub, facing Steve. As you lay back, the water laps around your boobs, which are still barely visible above the water.

"You know it's rude to stare." You tease.

"Can't help it, I haven't seen you for six weeks, and you pretty much just did a striptease for me. What do you expect me to do?"

You just blush at his comment. He wasn't wrong. You did purposefully take your clothes off, knowing he was watching you. You knew what it did to him. You sit up straight, looking him right in the eye as you carefully climb onto his lap to straddle him. It's a bit awkward as there isn't much space being in a bathtub, but you make it work. Gliding your naked body against Steve's, you almost give the game away with a moan, but you manage to hold it back. Once you are sitting in his lap, you feel Steve's hand slip up your thighs until they rest on your waist. Slowly you lean towards him. You make it seem as though you are going to kiss him. He quickly swipes his tongue over his lips in excitement, and you feel him hold on to your hips tighter. Your lips brush past by his. Leaning more into him until your body is pressed against his, your mouth is on his ear. You nibble his earlobe before whispering, "We need to get you clean up first." As you reach behind him for the washcloth, pulling your body away from his. Steve groans at the loss of contact with your body, still holding you firmly at the hips, letting you know he's not allowing you to move further away from him.

"You're such a tease."

"I don't have a clue what you are on about," you say sarcastically. Steve just rolls his eyes as you wet the washcloth and starts removing the dirt from his neck and face. You gently wiped the dried blood from around his eye, carefully cleaning his cut. You can see that it's already starting to heal, a factor of the serum you are very grateful for.

"As much as I am enjoying you taking care of me. I'm all clean, so I think we should get out."

"Why is that?" You ask, acting oblivious.

"Y/N," his voice is low and rough as he gently grinds his hips once. That's when you feel it. His rock hard cock rubs over your groin, and this time you can't contain your moan. The second the sound leaves your mouth Steve sits upright, pulling your body against his. Lips attached to yours before you even see it coming. You start to move in sync, slowly getting more heated as your hips automatically begin to grind against him.

"Bed," you managed to get out in between the make-out session. With one quick motion, a blink of an eye, Steve is on his feet in the tub, carefully placing you on yours. You stepped out first, grabbing the towels you'd got, passing one to Steve. You both briefly rub the towels over yourselves, removing most of the water.

You walk into your bedroom about to wrap the towel around your body to secure it, so it stays up by itself. But you don't get the chance to do that. Steve comes up behind you. Pressing his bare chest against your back. He takes the towel from you, discarding it on the floor forgotten. Placing his lips on the tender spot on your neck, kissing and nipping with his teeth. His hand roamed up from your hips over your stomach until he cups your boobs, squeezing and rolling your nipple between his fingers. He turns you around so you are face to face with him. You notice his towel wrapped loosely around his hip. Grabbing your chin to tilt your head up to his so you are looking him in the eyes, he says, "you are so goddamn beautiful." He kisses you, leaning into you until you start walking back and are met with the edge of the bed. Carefully, he lays you down, not breaking the connections of your lips as he does. Once you are lying flat and comfortable, you feel him softly trace his lips down your neck, over your collar bone, before reaching your boobs. Taking one of your nipples in is his mouth, licking and sucking on it like a starved man. You can't help but moan, running your hand through his hair, gripping it tightly.

"Please, Steve… I need you…"

Releasing your nipple with a pop sound, he shuffles upward until he's hovering over you once again.

"Say that again," It wasn't a question.

"Steve, I need you." He smiles as you instantly do as he says.

"What do you want me to do, doll?"

You sigh, withering beneath him; he knows what you want. You try to thrust your hips against the towel he is wearing, desperate for some friction. But Steve holds you firmly in place so you can't move.

"You gotta use your word, sweetheart," he whispers against your ears, nipping your ear lobe. You wish you could continue this little game with him, but your need for him was too strong.

"Please, I need you inside me, Steve… please." You don't even try to hide the desperation in your voice.

He pushes up off you slightly so he can remove his towel, throwing it on the floor next to the bed.

"That's it. All you needed to do was ask." He taunts you. You pay no attention to him reaching down and wrap your hand firmly around his cock, pumping a couple of times. This time it's Steve's turn to moan.

He stops you, removing your hand from him, replacing it with his own. You see him do the same action on himself you had done only moments ago. Moving closer to you, rubbing to tip over your entrance. Dragging out the torture a little longer.

"You're so ready for me." His voice is deep.

"Plea…" you don't get to finish as he's already started entering you. Slowly filling, he doesn't stop until you are full of him.

He wraps his hands around both of your wrists, shoving them above your head, holding them in place, and his hips start to roll.

"Fuuck… ah-Stevie." It's almost too much for you as he starts to pick up the pace, thrusting into you. Trying your best not to completely lose your head, you move your hips the best you can match his. Steve groans at the motion; gripping your wrists tighter, he starts fucking into you like a mad man.

"Oh god yes," you heard him murmur, in-between his grunts and moans.

"It's been so long, ah fuck - you feel so good - fuck Y/N!"

You feel the sensation building up inside of you, and Steve can feel it too, and his trust becomes more determined to bring you to climax.

"That's it, doll. Come for me. Come on, my cock." That's all it takes, Steve, to utter those words to you as you release rolls over you, tightening your walls around his cock. You could never get enough of his dirty talk. Arching your back the best you can, you roll your hips towards Steve, lasting out the orgasm. Steve's movements are slow as you try to catch your breath.

"You okay?" He asks as you are shaking beneath him.

"G-god, yes."

"You okay to keep going?"

"Mmhmm, Please, Steve, don't stop." You almost shouted.

Steve picks up the pace again. His grip on your wrist has loosened, and you managed to get them free, quickly grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Pulling his hair and scratching your nails over the tops of his shoulders.

The only sounds in the room are skin slapping on skin and the occasional grunt or moan from either you or Steve. You feel the pleasure building up inside you again. It never surprised you how quickly this man could bring you to an orgasm.

As Steve's begins to lose his rhythm, you know he's close too.

"You gonna come again for my doll." All you manage to do is a nod.

"Then do it, let go. I got you, doll, I got you." Coming for a second time that night, Steve thrusts and grinds into you, dragging out your orgasms, until he starts to stiffen, giving into a release of his own, coming inside of you.

Silence, but the good kind, fills the room, and neither of you moved to try to catch your breath. Steve reaches up and moves the hair from your forehead, which got stuck to it with sweat. He starts kissing your face all over. Uttering how much he's missed you. Seconds, minutes, hell, even hours could have passed before Steve moved to get up.

The cold hits your body at the loss of contact with his body heat, and you shiver.

"One second, sweetheart," he says with a peck on your lips as he jumps up, jogging into the bathroom. Returning moments later with a damp cloth. He carefully cleans you. You flinch a little as he runs the fabric over you.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay, just a little sensitive." You explain. Discarding the cloth, Steve jumps into the bed next to you, making you wobble as the bed moves. Shuffling in next to you, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You are careful where you lay on him, remembering his ribs are bruised.

You both lay there enjoying being in each other's arms, just listening to each other breathe. You can hear Steve's heart slowing down as he relaxes.

Gently, barely touching him, you run your fingertips over his chest, as his hand is ghosting over your back and down your arm drawing little patterns.

"I missed you so much," Your voice cracks, as you are the first one to break the silence.

"I know, sweetheart. I missed you too." He pulls you tighter onto his chest. "I am going to do everything in my power to make sure I'm never away for that long again."

You turn to look up at him, your chin now resting on his chest. "You promise?" You ask quietly.

"I promise." His reply is confident and reassuring, but you know that wasn't something he could guarantee. You knew this, but you also knew this was who Steve is, and he's more than capable of taking care of himself. Either way, it was nice to hear him say it. Pressing his lips against your forehead, you turn back, cuddling into him, letting sleep take over peacefully for the first time in a long time, and you know Steve would be there when you woke up.

tag list:

@a-little-counter-esperanto

@patzammit

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[help-im-a-gay-fish]

The Night of the First Mistake

Sequel to

Synopsis: pre X-orcist, almost a year after Nightmare's death, Dream is still not on top of his grief and causes him to resort to desperate measures.

Tw mentions of death/dead loved ones.

X-orcist au belongs to me and @zu-is-here

Dreams, Demons and Desires is by me.

Enjoy

Almost a year had past since he'd last seen Nightmare. The skeleton couldn't say he had mourned him, but the news of his death had been unfortunate to say the least. Who could have seen someone like Nightmare dying in such a preventable way? Not him, that's for sure.

He was a friend... Or at least a friendly acquaintance, clearly he'd not been quite close enough to Night's inner circle to be invited to the funeral. He'd never even met Night's brother. Despite that, the news of his parting had deeply saddened him and every so often, he thought of him with a sigh.

A good customer and a good person.

This evening, Nightmare played at his thoughts again, probably drudged up by the anniversary of the accident approaching, he hadn’t meant to make note of the day, but he had. a few weeks would be the anniversary of the day he heard the news. 

He thought back to a year ago, a few weeks before his death. The words he’d said about his brother and the increasing frustration about his sinful thoughts. Killer didn't judge him for such feelings, he was no stranger to sin.

Other then that, there was nothing at all strange about this night.

Tonight, just like any night, he was in his shop and the counter. It was a cold October and pretty soon he'd be closing up.

It was dark and chilly in his shop and had a strangely pungent smell, which hit the moment you walked in. A mix of crushed herbs and spices, old books and stale coffee.

An old set of scales sat on the counter top in front of him, as did a till, several glass jars and containers and a large collection of dirty coffee mugs.

Behind him there was a large book case full of many strange books. Ones with faded titles, ones with thick leather bindings, some with large strains spreading across the covers or pieces missing. If you asked him, he'd liked to have said that he'd read all of them... But there were a few he hadn't. He wasn't much of a reader outside of this collection.

As he nursed yet another cup of coffee from the café next door, he tapped his slender skeleton fingers on the counter top. He was bored.

With a glance at the clock, he decided today that he could close up early. It was his shop after all, he made the rules. A small collection of trinkets and charms hung around his neck and clinked together against his old coat, as he got to his feet.

Just as he prepared to take today's earnings from the till to count it, he heard the door and a jingle of the shop bell, indicating someone had entered.

He set an empty eye socket in their direction as they froze, looking nervous.

The person was new, but also something about them was strangely familiar. After scanning them for a moment, his face twisted into a sly smile upon realising who the new comer could be. He turned his face to them fully, staring his pitch eyes right through them. They tensed, which amused him slightly.

"well hello Little Light.... How may I help you"

Dream seemed taken back slightly by the pet name. It wasn't something he was used to. His hands fused with the fastening on his coat.

"uhh Hello.....I’m..... Uh.."

The shop keep chuckled again. Such nervous behaviour wasn't something he saw often from his customers. Looks like it was going to be an interesting night and to think, he was going to close up.

"nervous Lil light?"

Dream once again tensed and shuddered slightly.

"Please.... Don't call me that" he stammered slightly before taking a breath "My name is Dream"

The shop keepers grin got even wider and it made a chill run up Dream's spine. There was something extremely unnerving about this skeleton. Maybe it was the emptiness of his eyes or the strange carvings around them, but Dream was sure that it was more then that.

The atmosphere of the shop was very unsettling and kind of cramped in Dream’s opinion. There were many trinkets, stones, crystals and small animal bones stacked neatly on the shelves. It was this, along with bags of salt and bundles of sage and garlic, that reassured him he was in the right place for what he needed. 

"Dream huh?.... Thought so" he said in a low tone "I'm so glad to finally meet you"

The nervous shifting of his hands continued, as Dream once again tensed even further. He was acting friendly, but it still felt ever so slightly...off.

"h-how do you know me?"

"I knew your brother and I'd recognise that pendant I sold him anywhere" he said, with his eyes looking at Dream's chest.

Dreams fingers quickly shot to the star charm hanging from his neck, and gripped it tight. Looks like this was the right place.

"Not to mention there's your golden eyes" he  continued, shifting his gaze straight into Dream's eye sockets. It was strange how Dream knew where he was looking, even without eye lights.

"he often talked about them......He was right when he said they were very beautiful if I do say so myself~"

Dreams face blushed slightly, but he felt a familiar twist in this chest at the mention of Nightmare and a sinking feeling when he was reminded how Night felt about him. His brother had often complimented his eyes.....

He'd just never really understood it was more then brotherly affection. At least until now.

"I.... Uh" Dream said before clearing his throat "You're Killer.... Aren't you?"

Flexing his fingers, Killer nodded. The grin didn't leave his face.

"looks like my reputation proceeds me"

Dream let go of his necklace and a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I thought it might be you.... Based off something he wrote in his diary".

Before Night's accident, Dream had never even considered reading his diary. That was just a basic code of conduct. However, after his death, it became something Dream had often thought about. The diary, and everything else Nightmare owned, now belonged to him. For that reason he'd taken the book out of Nightmare's room.

However, he'd just kept it on his bedside table for almost a year before he finally had the courage to read it.

It had mostly been a fond look over some old memories, some good and some bad. But there were also passages about his feelings for Dream, sometimes written confessions addressed him. Every word was full of truth, longing and pain. Dream had felt it all.

Those had been hard to read, but he'd not skipped a single page and read them each through several times.

Nearer the end of the book, Nightmare had started talking about his interest in the supernatural. Dream remembered his twin getting fascinated in that and spending long evenings talking with him about it over tea and biscuits.

One thing Dream hadn't known about, where his trips to the next town over, where he wrote about finding this shop and the shop keep. This had been where the interest started. It was this that had lead Dream to come here.

"right..." Killer said, downing what was left in his coffee mug and setting in on the counter top.

"well.... What can I help you with?"

Yeah.. Nightmare had written that Killer was always one to cut to the point. Dream knew that what he was going to ask sounded insane and he wasn't even fully sure if Killer was the right person to ask. But at this point he was desperate, he just needed to know. With his grip returning to his brothers pendent, he remembered who he was doing this for.

He took a deep breath.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?"

Killer didn't react visibly to that. But he drew out a long silence. After a little Dream was sure he saw his jaw clench. The silence was completely deafening, broken only by the sound of Killer's fingers tapping the counter top. Dream figured that he was probably struggling to think what to say. After what felt like a life time, he spoke.

"I specialise in charms and equipment for preventative measures to stop spirits inhabiting homes....I do not....." he paused

"I don't try and bring the dead to the living realms".

Dreams face fell. He really shouldn't have been so disappointed, it was a crazy ask. But with the way Killer spoke and what he sold in the shop, he'd felt so close to what he wanted. But maybe it really was just impossible.

He felt tears threatening to spill, he just couldn't take all this guilt anymore. All he wanted to do was tell his brother he was sorry. That night. That kiss. That dam horribly wonderful kiss...and that car. 

"however...." Killer continued.

Dream felt hope flush through at those words and stood up slightly straighter. Killer turned his back to dream and started looking over the bookshelves behind the counter.

He didn't say a word, as Dream curiously watched him. He ran his thumb across the spines of several of the oldest and most dusty looking of them, eventually plucking out a large leather bound book with silver straps.

He walked back over, blowing dust off it as he did, and set it down on the counter with a light thud. The cover was extremely dusty and the leather was cracked and split in several places, yet the title still read fairly clearly and Dreams felt his heart skipped a beat.

The Practice of a Necromancer. Vol one of three. Summoning, Controlling and Banishing.

"I've not read this one fully, but it's been in my collection for years.... I suppose this would be the right place to look"

With that, he slowly opened the book and very carefully started to turn its pages. The paper was completely yellowed and clearly very fragile. There were no photographs, only hand done drawings of various items and also what looked like people, but with strange and uncanny faces. There were also other frightening images that Dream was trying not to look at.

Killer eventually stopped and ran his finger across a page.

"ah ha" he said "to summon a spirit into the living world"

He read over the text for a moment, as Dream watched impatiently. Killer knitted his non-existent eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

"this stuff sounds overly complicated to me..... so I guess I'm not sure really"

But Dream didn't really seem to be playing much attention to Killer's words now. He was so desperately trying to read the text upside-down. Reading was something that Dream always struggled with anyway, so reading upside down would be near impossible. He reached forward to try and pull the book to him.

But he jumped back in surprise as Killer slapped his hand across the book, sending some dust into the air.

"now now now not so hasty Lil Light" he said returning back to a sweet tone, as he said the a pet name that made Dream's toes curl.

In his haste Dream had forgotten that this was a shop, not a library, so of course he wouldn't just hand it over.

The smaller skeleton knew that the book was probably pricey so it's not like Killer would just let him have it. It was clearly very old and Dream worried that he wouldn't have enough for it, but if he had to pay all the money he had to buy it. He would.

Reaching inside of his pocket, Dream pulled out a bundle of paper money and placed it on the counter and next to the book. Killer looked at it for a moment, before he took it and counted how much money was in the bundle. He ran his fingers across the notes, looking as if he was very tempted and contemplating his next move.

But then, much to Dream's disappointment, he put it back down on the counter.

"I don't want your money dream... That's not what I meant"

An unhappy wine left Dream's mouth, as Killer proceeded to hand his money back to him. Just as he was about to ask why, Killer cut him off.

"it's not for sale"

"but what if I just borro-

"or for rent or loan"

Dreams soul twisted. This felt so Incredibly unfair. He wasn't ever one to really get angry or feel hatred for people. But why had Killer gotten this book down if he didn't intend to sell it? Was he just trying to mess with him?

It was that moment that he wasn't sure he really liked Killer all that much.

He sighed.

"h-how come? Can I do anything to change your mind?"

Killer sadly shook his head.

"Dream....... I like to read the stuff for research purposes not for a practical use"

Dream opened his mouth to object, but killer silenced him.

"and I don't care what you say... but I don't think you're just interested in the topic"

Dream tried very hard not to show disappointment on his face, but of course Killer picked up on it. It upset him that his intentions were so easy to guess. Then again he'd opened with 'can you bring people back from the dead'.

He really should have asked in a different way. Feeling like an idiot, he tried to say that he wasn't intending to use the book in practice. But Killer once again shook his head.

He stood up slightly and gave Dream a sympathetic look, or a sympathetic as he could make it through his cold eyes.

"look....I know you miss him and that's ok I've lost people myself to" he said in a uncharacteristically gentle tone, which sounded fake. 

Dream looked at his feet.

"but the dead need to be left dead. Trying to bring them back never ends well, Nightmare wouldn't want you to get hurt trying to help him"

Dreams eyes stayed fixed on the floor, not wanting to look at killer any longer. He didn't want him to see him cry. He didn't want to look like a baby. Just as he was going to try arguing again, behind him he heard the shop door open and the bell ring

He looked back at Killer seeing he'd straightened up.

"K-killer...." came a soft but slightly panicked voice.

Curiously, Dream looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice. It was another skeleton stood by the door.

In all his life, Dream had never seen someone look to tired. They seem to be slightly younger then Dreams age but it was hard to tell how much. Their appearance was clearly young, but the huge bags under their eyes aged their face several years. The most notable thing about them was that their eye lights where small, indicating that they were on edge.

They were wearing a oversized cream knitted sweater and had a maroon scarf decorated with a paw print pattern tide around their neck. They fiddled with it as their eyes a looked at Killer and then to Dream.

From where he was, Dream could also see them wearing several of the necklaces and charms that Killer a sold, as well as a few layers of bandages around their arms.

Killer hastily exited from behind the counter and approached them.

"Hey Cappuccino......." he said, trying again to sound soft.

Ccino wasted no time in burying his head to Killers chest and wrapping his arms around him.

In response, Killer stumbled slightly and looked momentarily taken back and very uncomfortable. After a moment he sigh, before gently placing an hand on his back.

"hey.....it's ok ya wimp... I'm guessing they're back right?"

Ccino simply nodded, Killer sighed.

"Dream can you show yourself out? I've got to take care of this, we're closing anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't help you better"

As Killer attempted to comfort the shaking skeleton, Dream turned his attention back to the book in front of him. It was just within his reach, the page was tantalising.

It was so clear, a set instructions of the exact thing he'd need to do to reach his goal. 

Killer's warning played in his mind. 

But he knew what he was doing right? It was his brother, what did Killer really know about what Nightmare would have wanted. He didn't know how.... Close... They were. At least he thought he knew.

It was a split second choice.

As Killer continued to try and comfort his companion, he saw Dream hastily exit the shop without saying another word. He stared at the door.

It didn't feel right. 

He narrowed his eyes and stepped back from Ccino slightly.

"hang on"

He walked back to the counter and was relieved to see that the book was still there, however a moment later he noticed something else that make him freeze and curse under his breath.

"what's wrong?" Ccino asked, walking up next to him.

Killer didn't answer and instead picked up his book and looked at it closely to confirm what he saw. When he saw he was right, he near growled.

"Killer?" Ccino asked not seeing the problem.

"look....."Killer said quietly.

He ran his finger down the spine where the pages joined together. Once you looked closely you could see the remnants of torn paper sticking out.

"he took the page"

references coming soon.

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?�� Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

[thewheezingwyvern]

Salt Lines

Demon!Aizawa x Witch!F!Reader x Demon!Shinsou

Summary: You summoned two demons for a favor. Little did you know that they had different ideas on how they wanted you to pay for their services.

Rating: Here be smut!

Word count: 4.3k

Kinks: Blowjob, Threesome, Spit roasting, Double penetration, Dirty talk

Notes: Banner edited by me, base photo can be found here.  Tagging: @secondhand-trash, @animewh0re, @marilla-eldriana, @heyybrittannia, @redbeanteax, @blueflame-dabi, @mari-writes-smut, @league-of-thots, @dee-madwriter , @theravencawsatmidnight, @bratwritings, @knifeewifee, @mirakumiruku, @raekahnsfw​

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

To say that they were gorgeous was a vast understatement. The two demons that you had summoned were in possession of an otherworldly attraction that ensnared your attention. At first glance they looked like exceptionally gorgeous humans, skin bathed in an alluring glow with lean bodies that radiated power. But closer inspection revealed two pairs of eyes that glowed like hellfire and powerful curved horns that betrayed their nature.

"A brave witch," The one on the left observed, a shock of lavender hair floating on an infernal wind from the summoning circle, "to summon not one but two demons to her bidding." 

The one on the right curled a faint smirk, dark hair twisting in a storm around his jaw and neck, "Is the witch ready to pay double for her favor?" 

A raw rush of power roiled against your circle, a loud hum reverberating through your bedroom. 

"Your price?" you asked through gritted teeth. 

The lavender haired demon twisted a grin on his mouth, dark eyes slipping past your form to eye your bed, "Convenient place you've chosen to summon us..."

It did not take you long to connect the dots, “I wasn’t looking for Incubi…”

A deep laugh rumbled in the dark-haired one’s chest, “Incubi aren’t the only ones who can seek pleasure.” he lifted a lazy hand and trailed it along your circle, the barrier crackling violently against his skin, “It’s nearly impossible to resist when an attractive witch like you summons us.”

A shudder rolled down your spine, his voice a pleasing caress to your ears. Purple eyes watched you with a burning intensity, accompanied by a knowing smirk. The raw energy swelling through your bedroom was intense and it sensitized your skin as they eagerly drank in the sight of your figure. You considered the proposition. As far as demon deals went, this seemed to be the lowest risk to you, compared to having to offer up something of great value to you personally or even owe them a favor. But you knew better than to just blindly accept.

“Name your terms specifically.” you replied firmly, fighting back the shudder as they both eyed you from behind the barrier, “Or I banish you.”

“The terms are simple” the black haired one said, “In exchange for whatever favor you ask from us, we get to have our fun with you.”

“Define ‘fun’.” 

A laugh emerged from the one on the left, “It’s really not complicated, witch. We get to fuck you.”

Your mind flooded with thoughts of being pressed between the two of them, hot and eager mouths devouring you while greedy hands reveled in the feel of your skin. Curious, your eyes trailed over their forms once more. Their clothes were modern enough, a trait demons have done for centuries, adapting to suit the times with each summon. But beneath the clothes you could see hard muscle and it made your mouth water at the thought of seeing them both. 

Still wary, you narrowed your eyes, “And if I start to feel uncomfortable with some of your ideas of fun?”

“All you have to do is say so.” Dark eyes hooded sensuously from beneath wild black hair, “After all, we want you writhing in pleasure and we can’t do that if you don’t like it.”

You paused thoughtfully, “You have a deal.”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you dropped the circle. Before you could blink the two descended upon you, the dark haired one pulling you to him, your back pressed against your chest while his hands roamed along the lines of your body. As the other demon pressed against you from the front, hot mouth finding purchase on your neck, your voice rasped out of your open mouth.

“Names. What are your names?”

Your hoarse request sent a shudder through both of them before the one behind you rumbled out an answer, “Shouta.”

“Hitoshi.” murmured the one with lavender hair into your ear, cool teeth nibbling at your earlobe.

Their bodies were blazing hot, a manifestation of hellfire contained within flesh as they crowded against you. Your own temperature increased when Hitoshi claimed your mouth with his own. His kiss was intense and deep, pulling your breath out of you to hold it prisoner behind his teeth. Shouta kissed his way up your neck to nibble on your ear, hot hands gripping your hips. 

Pressed as you were between them, you could feel the firm and rigid lengths of both of them pushed against you. When the length behind you rutted up against your ass, you groaned into Hitoshi’s mouth. Eager for more, you reached your arms behind you to embrace Shouta’s neck, grinding back against him. A pleasured growl filled your ears in response to your movements.

“Nice shirt.”

Deft fingers stole around to the front of your shirt, a button up, and he slowly set to work undoing each one. His progress was slow and tantalizing, taking the opportunity to relish in the feel of your soft skin along the way. Meanwhile, Hitoshi was growing rougher in his kisses, his hands reaching around to squeeze your ass tightly. He kneaded the supple flesh there, savoring the feel and how you groaned against him with the motion. Sinful hands parted your shirt, baring your torso and bra to them. 

Hitoshi pulled back to bore his gaze into you, “Every inch of you is ours tonight. How could we possibly resist such a tempting little Kitten?”

While his mouth returned to your neck, peppering scorching kisses down to your chest, Shouta growled into your ear, “I want to taste you so fucking bad. I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, his hand stealing away past the waistband of your jeans and underwear to dip into your core. You were drenched just like he expected and when Shouta felt your dripping want, he groaned. Slick fingers were held up before your face, evidence of your desire glinting in the soft glow of the candles and string lights of your bedroom.

“Shit. Look at how wet she is, Hitoshi.”

The demon in question pulled back to look at his fingers. Darkened eyes shifted over to look at you, drinking in your pleasured face. A smirk crawled across his face before he reached over to take Shouta’s wrist in his hand before guiding it over to your lips.

“Taste yourself, witch.”

You opened your mouth and took his fingers into your mouth. The musky flavor of your arousal burst across your tongue and you eagerly sucked on Shouta’s fingers. The act had both demons growling and pressing you even tighter between them.

“That’s it.” Shouta rumbled into your ear.

“You want something else to suck, don’t you?”

The sound of Hitoshi’s husky voice had you whining and squirming. Yes. A thousand times yes! Shouta was breathing heavily in your ear, rutting against your ass with his growing hardness. A pair of hands shoved your pants down, leaving you in your underwear and open button down shirt.

Hitoshi was eager to touch, palms gliding over your exposed thighs. The sensation was tantalizing, leaving you squirming in your need. A heated palm cupped your sex, a whine escaping you at the touch. It wasn't enough. You needed more. Shouta pulled his fingers free to reach around and cup your breasts, pushing them together in offering for the demon in front of you.

“You have the most tempting body...”

The rumbling growl of Shouta’s voice against your skin sent a powerful jolt of arousal right to your pussy, clenching in anticipation of being filled. Hitoshi’s indigo eyes blazed with hunger, drinking in your disheveled state before dipping his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. A plaintive whine emerged from you, pleasure singing through your nerves as his clever mouth suckled at your breasts. Hot fingers made their way past your underwear to stroke along your weeping slit, your hips bucking in need.

“We are going to devour you. Would you like that?” Shouta chuckled against your ear, taking great pleasure in your answering whimper, “We’re going to stuff you so full of cock that you won’t know how to think.”

“God yes!” You groaned out, head lolling back to rest on his shoulder.

While your chest was teased and kissed and sucked, another mouth found your neck again, teeth biting down on the tender flesh there. Hard. It was a heated move that made your pussy clench, searching for something to fill it. Demons bite to claim, you realized, a way to ward off others of their infernal brethren from getting ideas. The idea of being claimed by these two, held and guarded jealously was unspeakably arousing and it made you wiggle your hips against the fingers stroking your aching sex.

“So eager.” Indigo eyes swam into your vision as he threaded his fingers into your hair, lifting up your head to stare at your face properly., “Let’s hear it, girl. Do you want us to fuck you? To claim you?”

Fuck. That voice, heavy with a demonic, possessive growl made you tremble in need. Your hips bucked again, seeking more friction, more pleasure, your pussy needing to be filled. The sight of him staring at you, luminous eyes setting your blood on fire, caused your voice to fail. You nodded desperately, panting as Shouta suckled at your skin, greedy hands massaging your breasts.

“Use your words.” Hitoshi instructed.

“Beg for it.” the dark haired demon behind you corrected, “I want to hear you beg. Beg for us pretty little witch.”

A single finger began drawing tight but maddeningly slow circles around your needy clit. Your chest heaved, panting beneath the current of their desire as you spiraled into a mess of trembling limbs. A second hand dipped between your thighs, Shouta’s hand, and gathered up the pooling slick onto his finger tips. A faint squeak of surprise jolted from you when that same hand pressed into your ass, teasing the puckered hole there. You pressed your butt back against him, urging him to push his fingers into you but he drew back.

“Beg for it.” Shouta growled to you, “Tell us what you want.”

Cool teeth nipped at your lower lip, hot breath washing over your face. They were impossibly close and yet not close enough. Under normal circumstances you would give them more resistance and make them earn your begging. But you were so hot, so tightly wound with intense need that you felt certain you were going to burst. You shuddered between them.

“Please! Please I need you both!”

“Please what, Kitten?” rumbled Hitoshi, “You have to tell us what you want.”

You whined, bucking against their hands yet they pointedly did not give you what you wanted.

“Please! Please just fuck me! I need it so bad, please!”

The answering growls you received was enough to make your bones quake, previously luminous eyes glowing like hot coals in a dark night. A hand, impossible for you to tell who it belonged to, abruptly ripped your underwear off of you. The loud sound of fabric tearing cut through the air, making you squawk indignantly.

“Hey! Those were my- Ah-!”

Hitoshi had moved so fast you had never noticed him drop to his knees before you until he latched his mouth to your clit. The sensation was so intense it made your knees buckle, your quaking body only held upright by Shouta’s powerful arm still clamped around your waist. Slippery fingers prodded at your rear, until you felt one slide in, a soft moan tumbling from your lips at the stretch.

You were impossibly wet, your juices leaking at a slow but steady rate as the two demons ravaged you. Hitoshi hefted up your left leg, resting it on his shoulder as he feasted on your dripping sex, drinking in the flavor of your arousal. The sounds he made down there were obscene, vulgar slurping and sucking permeating the air as he growled against your want.

“You like that don’t you?” came Shouta’s voice in your ear, sinking a second finger into your ass, “Him eating out your pussy while I have my fun here with this cute ass of yours?”

You needed to feel their skin on yours. It wasn’t fair that you were the only one completely bare while they had their way with you. Desperate to turn the tables, you reached around and grabbed his cock through his pants. The answering hiss alone was enough to drive your arousal up. But the part that made you lick your lips, the detail that made your mouth water in anticipation was his girth. He was large enough that you couldn’t even get your hand to close all the way around it

You balked at the idea of him being able to fit that in your ass. Could your body even handle a cock that large?

“Careful, girl. Keep grabbing my cock like that and you won’t be able to walk for days.”

Oh fuck. That was too much. Between Shouta’s fingers in your ass, the growls against your skin and Hitoshi’s mouth working at your clit, your hips rutted to seek the pleasure you needed. Eager to see you fall apart, the two demons intensified their attentions, a third finger stretching your asshole while three were added to your aching and empty pussy. When they scissored within you, you howled out your pleasure, trembling against them while you struggled to palm his erection.

“Fuck.” he cursed behind you, “I can’t wait anymore.”

Infernal magic sizzled around him, melting away the modern clothes he was clad in until Shouta was left just as bare as you. As he eased the tip of his throbbing cock into you, you hissed, the stretch already intense to accommodate his girth. He sank in slowly, gradually advancing so you could take in all of him. It stung and you strained to adjust, struggling to keep your hips still against the lips that dined between your legs.

Until you felt Hitoshi’s teeth rake across your clit.

White stars burst before your eyes, your abdomen tightening before your hips rocked wildly, seeking out the start of your orgasm. You were so close, teetering on the edge of a hungry mouth and a rock hard cock sheathing into you, ready to fall over the side at a moment's notice. Hitoshi snapped his eyes up to look at you, illuminated eyes scorching a trail across your skin to bore into your own gaze. It was his eyes that performed the smirk that his mouth was too preoccupied to do, wicked delight glowing like a hot coal in those indigo depths. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cursed, “Please, Hitoshi, I’m so close! Please!”

Shouta snapped his hips forward, your skin slapping against his, “Scream for us, Kitten.”

Hitoshi growled his approval against your pussy, the vibrations shooting right to your clit and across your nerves. That pushed you over the edge with a shout, a delicious fall into wild and frenzied bucking, your desire pouring out of you and into his hot and ready mouth. You panted and whimpered, the sight of him so eager to consume your fluids while Shouta rutted into you from behind was so arousing. 

Lavender head lifting, the light from your bedroom and the candles caught on your slick glistening on his lips and chin. A tongue lashed out to clean up your essence, his body rising to his feet. You were greeted with a smirk as he drank in your blissed expression, mouth hanging open as you panted for air, breasts bouncing with each of Shouta’s thrusts.

“Good girl.” he purred behind you, fingers giving your hips an appreciative squeeze, “Good fucking girl.”

Sensuous lips claimed yours, the musky tang of your own essence flooding your mouth. Growls reverberated in your ears from the two demons boxing you between them, ungodly heat simmering along your skin. Shouta grew rougher, thick cock twitching inside of you with each thrust, nails biting into your skin. A whine of protest escaped you when he pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty.

“I think it’s only fair that you return the favor. Let’s see you take two demon cocks at once.”

A squeal escaped you as you were abruptly tossed onto the bed, mattress creaking to catch you. Shouta was on you before you could even blink, flipping you onto your hands and knees with your face near the edge of the bed. Roughly he pressed himself back into your ass, stretching and reaching deep inside of you. When Hitoshi came back into your view he was nude, hard lines of his body nearly glowing in the dim haze of your candles and string lights. Your mouth watered at the sight, fingers fisting into the comforter of your bed. He looked so sinful and sexy and you wanted to turn around to get a good look at Shouta in nothing but his skin.

“Think you can handle us both, Kitten?” grunted the demon behind you, snapping his hips to slap against the skin of your ass, “If you’re scared now, we won’t fault you too much.”

Did you think you could handle them both? You weren’t sure. The one dick deep inside of you already stretched you so wide it was at the upper threshold of pleasure. But the part that you found intimidating was before you. Hitoshi was thick. So much so that you felt your jaw ache at the idea of taking him into your mouth. Were you even capable of accommodating something that large?

You had your doubts but the teasing tone from Shouta urged you forward, “Fuck me like you mean it. Unless you’re scared?”

Hips stuttered to a stop, stilling as they both drank in what you just said. What you just challenged. Indigo eyes, still glowing, fluorescent embers were wide for a moment before hooding. A dangerous smirk crossed Hitoshi’s lips, carnal teeth peering out between them. There was a raw infernal energy that rolled off of both of them, powering against you and scintillating across your skin. It abruptly became very clear that they both had been holding back. 

Their energy made you feel nearly drunk, spiking your own desire until you felt you were going to burst out of your own skin. There was a moment where you felt like you would regret your words but that vanished under the idea of being completely ruined by two indescribably sexy demons. Demons that were overcome with desire for you. They may be running the show but the thought of them so enamored with you gave you a power all of your own.

A dark chuckle emerged from Hitoshi, eyes intensely more luminous than before. As he drew closer, sensuous kisses were pressed to your back, following the pillar of your spine. It was almost soft, tender and tempting. But you could sense it was a preclude to the storm they were about to unleash upon you. The lavender haired demon sifted his hand through your hair before dipping to your chin, angling your head up to look at him, cock pulsing in front of your face.

“Remember you asked for it, witch.”

Shouta burst to life behind you with a snarl, powering himself forward into you. It was so abrupt and intense, you cried out, pleasure and pain intertwining in a dance along your nerves. His thrusts were rough, wild and utterly carnal. And your own cries swelled when wicked fingers snaked around to pinch your clit. At the same time, Hitoshi fisted his hand into your hair and yanked it back down to stare at his length.

“Suck it.” growled out Shouta, “A slutty little witch like you knows how, right? Go on. Let me see you suck his cock.”

Eagerly, you parted your lips and took his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Hitoshi hissed quietly, bucking his hips at the sensation. The action caused you to cough in response, throat spasming at the intrusion. You heard him groan as you tried to sink his length further into your mouth, jaws stretching to accommodate him properly. Before they might have let you take your time, get used to taking on the sheer size of him, but your challenge earlier erased that possibility entirely.

The two of them set a rigorous pace thrusting into you, two demon cocks filling you to capacity. They were rough, man handling your frame until you could feel bruises forming on your hips and your scalp stinging from Hitoshi’s insistent tugging on your hair. You could taste his pre, salty on your tongue as you hollowed out your cheeks.  The growls were incredibly arousing and Shouta’s persistent fingers on your clit only served to work you into a frenzy, driving you to take both of them as much as you could.

“Fuck you look good like that.” came Hitoshi’s voice, hoarse with desire, “Do you want my cum?”

You hummed in the affirmative but suddenly gave a muffled squeal when a hand descended down onto your right ass cheek. The skin stung sharply with the abrupt abuse and you knew it was going to bruise later. When you were spanked again you yelped again, earning a loud moan from Hitoshi.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Shouta told you.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smirk in his voice. The tone emboldened you, thrusting your hips back to meet one of his powerful strokes, skin slapping against his. Shouta gave a pleasured growl, cock twitching inside of you. Things were getting heated and messy, lines of drool dripping from your mouth. It was a struggle to keep taking in the massive dick, your throat constantly working around his thrusts. 

“Your mouth feels so good.” Hitoshi told you, abruptly pulling out of your mouth, “But I know somewhere that will feel better.”

“Shit -ah! Please. I need to cum!”

A positively feral snarl ripped from Shouta’s throat, a rough hand gripping you by the neck and hauling you up right. The other demon clamored onto the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. Hitoshi’s cock was rock hard, dark red from blood flow and was twitching with need. Lips pressed to your ear as the thrusts behind you grew more fervent and wild.

“You want to cum, pretty witch? Alright we’ll make you cum. We’re going to fill you up.”

“Yes!” 

Shouta pulled you tightly against him, hot skin burning against your back, before falling back so you were laying on top of him. The position change had your aching, empty pussy clenching, leaking out your desire in preparation for the fucking it desperately needed. He fisted a rough hand into your hair, pulling sharply to force you to tip back your head, arching your body above him. 

Hitoshi was on you quickly, sheathing himself fully into your dripping heat, “Fuck..! You feel so-agh! This pussy is mine. Mine.”

You couldn’t see either of their faces from the angle you were forced to hold yourself in but their powerful, wild thrusts was more than enough to send you careening over the edge of your second orgasm. You came with a scream, bucking your way through the wave of pleasure, trembling limbs spasming around you. 

“We’re not done with you yet, Witch.” Shouta whispered into your ear, “We’re going to ruin you. You want that, don’t you? To be a fuck toy for two powerful demons?”

Each movement sent overly sensitized jolts through you, your body stimulated past it’s threshold and they still continued to pound into you. You writhed and whined between them, feeling like you were going to split at the seams beneath their attention. Waves of infernal power roiled over you, sensual and erotic like it’s own full body caress. 

“I-I ah! I can’t! It’s too much! I can’t!”

“Fuck you like we mean it. Isn’t that what you told us?” drawled Shouta from behind you.

“Yes…” you whimpered out.

“Tell us to stop, Kitten.” Hitoshi murmured to you between his wild thrusts, “You know the rules. You have to tell us to stop.”

It was overwhelming, thrumming through your nerves right to your core, so intense it was almost painful. But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted and needed this. Tightly wound already from your desire, it sprung to an even higher level when Shouta pinched your sensitive clit between his clawed fingers. You howled in pleasure, white fuzz swimming into your vision as you endured through their ministrations. Whimpers escaped you when Shouta’s other hand slipped up and cupped your left breast, thumb stroking a nipple.

The sensation made you buck and squirm and writhe between them, heat swallowing you as you tipped over your third orgasm for the night with a scream. The sound of you coming undone was enough to push Shouta over the edge as well, a feral snarl escaping him as he shot ropes of thick cum into you. The sensation was pleasant and you felt yourself fall limp on him. 

“Where do you want it?” Hitoshi asked you, grunting in between his strokes.

You were breathless and panting but you still had enough energy to rasp out, “Inside of me. Cum inside me please!”

“Fuck-!”

Hitoshi unloaded into you, spilling hot, sticky seed into your quivering pussy. His hot body laid on top of yours, head resting on your chest. Both demons peppered your skin with slow kisses, the three of you panting and sweating. Your body felt like it was made of jelly, limp limbs falling to either side of you. 

“That was…” you croaked out, voice dying in your throat.

“That was good. I love this ass of yours.” Shouta cupped your butt, fingers squeezing into your flesh.

“Hmmmm, be sure to summon us again, Kitten. I have other things I want to do to you.”

Other things? Summon them both again? To get fucked within an inch of your life by the both of them?

Hell. Fucking. Yes.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Room For Two | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  After a long weekend at the Denver Comic-Con, you were just looking for a quiet evening. That plan is out the window when all the planes are grounded at the airport and Tom arrives at your door. With no other rooms available in the city, Tom asks to share your room for the night. Just one problem, there is only a king bed in the room.

Warnings: fluff

-

“Finally.“

The hotel door slammed behind you as you let a sigh go. The past three days had been a whirlwind of panels, interviews, and autographs. It was only through multiple cups of coffee you were still standing. The Denver Comic-Con was the latest stop in the unending promotional tour.

You throw your shoes off and flopped onto the king bed in your room. You contemplate what to do first, a hot shower or order food as you massage your sore feet. The growl from your stomach decided for you and you lean towards the nightstand to pick up the phone.

“Room Service,” a cheery male voice answered as you hit the auto dial button.

“Hi, can I get the grass-fed burger, Caesar salad, and the Caprese pizza, please?”

“Charged to Room 1415?”

“Yes, please.”

“It will be 30 to 40 minutes.”

“Thank you.”

You hung up the phone and allow your head to sink into the pillows. You seriously contemplated falling asleep right now and hope you wake up when room service knocks. But you decided to wash the layer of the day off your body.

As you head to the bathroom, you shed your clothes piece by piece, tossing them on the floor along your way. You make a mental note to make sure you pick it up before room service gets there. You flicked the shower water on and turned it up as hot as tolerable. Once the water warmed up, you stepped in and let the near scalding water pour over your body. The tension left your shoulders and neck and the grime of the day, both literal and figurative, washed away. You wanted to stay under that hot water for an eternity but after about ten minutes you turned the water off and stepped into a fluffy bathrobe. As you exited the bathroom, you got an insistent knock on the door.

“That can’t possible be room service,” you muttered as you look through the peephole.

Instead of your food, you see a lanky ginger-haired gentleman rocking from side to side in front of your door.

“Tom?” you questioned as you open the door.

Tom turned on that smile.

“I hope I am not interrupting your evening. Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

“Yes, come on in,” you stepped aside to allow him entry to the room. You noticed he was carrying a small duffel bag with him. “I thought you were flying out tonight.”

He pivoted around to face you.

“Funny thing. They grounded the flights. Someone thought flying drones in the air space was a good idea. After four hours, they sent everyone away.”

“Didn’t that same thing happen at Heathrow in December?”

“The same thing. They are calling it a copycat.”

“I am so sorry. If I can help, just say the word,” you commented as you turn to let him out the door. Tom does not follow.

“Well, that is the other funny thing. Because of the comic-con and the big education convention, there is not a spare room in the entire city.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“I am serious. Not even my original room was available. I thought about sleeping at the airport when I remembered you were staying a few days…”

Your eyes widened, realizing what Tom was asking.

“You want to stay… HERE?!”

Tom looked at the ground, scuffling his feet on the carpet.

“If you don’t mind.”

You looked to the single king bed in the room. Tom followed your gaze and then both of your faces reddened.

“I could sleep in the chair.” Tom gestured towards the armchair in the corner.

It was at least half his size and looked uncomfortable.

“No, that is not fair… We can…”

A knock interrupted your thought.

“SHIT!” you hissed as you pulled the bathrobe around your body, “that is room service.”

Tom held up his hands.

“I will handle it. Why don’t you go into the bathroom and make yourself decent?”

He made the last remark with a slight smirk on his face as his eyes raked over your still robed body. You throw him a dirty look as you grabbed your pajamas and shut the bathroom door.

Tom thanked the person who brought the food as you pulled a comic book t-shirt and well-worn pajama pants.

“Were you expecting company?” Tom yelled through the bathroom door.

You remembered your hunger induced over ordering.

“Are you judging me?” you retorted as you opened the door, smiling.

“Nope. I have always appreciated people with a healthy appetite. I must admit I am famished myself. Airport food is not my favorite.”

You suppressed a giggle as Tom eyed the burger. You gestured for him to dig in. Tom dug into the burger without a second thought and moans of satisfaction escaped his lips.

“Enjoying yourself?” you mumbled as you shove a forkful of salad in your own mouth, “I also appreciate a man with a joy for food, even such a high esteemed actor as yourself.”

Tom rolled his eyes. This was an ongoing joke between you two throughout filming. You mention his fame and him shutting you down every time.

“Please. None of that tonight. I am far too hungry and weary to fight you off.”

“Fair enough.”

***

The two of you eat the rest of the food in relative silence. Tom regal the tale of his ill-fated trip to the Denver airport and you shared crazy fan stories from the con. After every morsel and you bellies were full, the matter of sleeping arrangements came up once.

“So…” Tom started, looking once again towards the bed. “I am taking the chair.”

Your face once again reddened. You screwed up your courage to be an adult rather a hormone raging teenager.

“No, that is silly. You are like twice the size of that chair and it looks uncomfortable,” you wrinkled your nose, “Plus it is not like you and I have never shared a bed before.”

Tom had been a perfect gentleman and did everything in his power to make you comfortable during your first ever love scene. At the end of the day, the scene had made the film a hit. After that, you harbored a crush on the dashing Tom Hiddleston.

“True. So sharing the bed.”

You swallowed and nodded your head as if solidify your decision.

“Yep,” you get up and move the empty dishes to the door, “do you need to use the shower? You are more than welcome to use any of my toiletries. I promise there is nothing too girly smelling in there.”

“Thank you.”

Tom headed into the bathroom, taking his bag with him and the shower started soon after. You attempted to contain the mess of clothes on the bed. Not that it mattered.

You shoved all the clothes into the drawers and when the water stopped, you jumped underneath the covers. Tom strolled out. His shaggy locks were wet, and he was wearing pajama bottoms with a plain white tee. You could smell your soap wafting off of him. It was intoxicating.

“I took the right side. Is okay?” you commented, while playing with the edge of the sheet.

Tom laughed. “It’s fine, it is your room and I am the interloper.”

Tom slid into the bed on the left side and adjusted the pillows behind him.

“Would you like to watch a movie or something?” you picked up the remote.

“No thanks, darling. I am tired from the day. I bet you must be too. This is your first comic-con circuit, right?”

“Yeah, I guess I am tired too,” you lied.

You leaned over and switched off the light and plunged the room into darkness. You settled yourself into a night of sleeping. You arranged the pillows behind your head and then took one of the extra pillows and tucked off to one side to lie on. You turned towards Tom’s side to see him propped up on an elbow, taking in your sleep ritual.

“What in earth are you doing, Y/N?”

“I am getting ready for bed. What are you doing?”

“Watching you getting ready for bed. Do you always hug a pillow while sleeping?”

You made out a hint of a smile on his face.

“It is not hugging, it is for support,” you huffed down and wrap your arms around the pillow.

“For emotional support?” Tom countered.

“No.” you said, “I thought you were tired.”

“I am. But I am not too tired to watch this ritual. It is adorable. If you need to snuggle something, I am available.”

You reached over and smacked Tom in the chest.

“You are incorrigible. I’m fine. Go.. to.. sleep, Tom.”

“Suit yourself.”

Your sleep was fitful that night, tossing and turning all night. Around midnight, you threw the pillow to the ground and the comforter off your feet. Tom breathed heavy next to you. Tempted to elbow him in the ribs and wake him,  you decided against it.

***

You woke the next morning to something warm and solid pressed up against the entire back side of your body. You attempted to roll over, but you realized something pinned your legs to the mattress. Craning your neck around, you see Tom pressed up against your back and his legs intertwined with yours.

Tom’s body was radiating heat, and you snuggled close to his body. You could feel his breath on your neck and you sighed to yourself.

If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.

As you continued to sink into his body, you inadvertently ground your ass into Tom’s crotch. You feel his erection through his thin pajama pants. Not even the great Tom Hiddleston was immune to morning wood. A soft moan escaped Tom’s lips, and he reached around your waist, pulling you in closer. Tom’s chin nuzzled into the crook on your neck and his hot breath tickled your skin.

You tried to extract yourself from his grip but only turned yourself around and now you were face to face with a sleeping Tom. His long lashes threatened to touch his cheeks and you let a sigh out at the sight of him.

Damn, why does he have to be so handsome!

The change of position caused Tom to stir and you see his eyes flutter open. With sleepy eyes, Tom noticed the space, or lack thereof, between the two of you and smirked.

“Morning, darling.”

“Morning, Tom.”

“I see you abandoned your pillow and went for something more satisfying.”

You scoffed, attempting to pull away from his grip but not trying too hard.

“I woke up with you wrapped around me. Perhaps you have a crush on me,” you joked.

Tom looked you dead in the eye.

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I have been hiding away a secret torch for you since you first walked onto set. And perhaps I fear you would not reciprocate my feelings.”

You lied there in disbelief. Was Tom confessing his affections towards you? You didn’t know how to react.

“Perhaps you are wrong.” you parroted him, “Perhaps I would reciprocate your feelings. Perhaps I have been hiding a secret crush for you since the day of that bedroom scene.”

You looked up at him, again attempting to wriggle away. This time with more effort. Tom yanked you forward until the two of you were chest to chest.

“Perhaps I will just kiss you and see what happens.”

You opened your mouth to come back with a snappy comment but Tom leaned in and his lips met yours.

The kiss was everything you had imagined, but better. A warmth flowed through your body and you snaked your arms around Tom’s neck and pulled him closer.  The two of you parted, breathing heavy.

“Wow,” Tom smiled with pride, “your breath smells.”

Both of you burst out into laughing.

“Your breath isn’t minty fresh either, darling,” Tom placed a quick peck on your lips. “Let’s get up, get dressed, and head downstairs for breakfast, Y/N.”

“Okay but you get ready first. I am not ready to get up.”

“Fair enough.”

Tom bounded out of bed and rustled through his bag before finding clean clothes. Just as he reached the bathroom door, his phone buzzed.

“Do you mind checking that, darling?”

You nodded, and he disappeared into the bathroom.

You picked up the phone and saw a text from Luke.

Tom?! Where are you? You didn’t answer your phone last night. It took some persuading, but I got your suite back at the Hyatt. Please call me back. I hope you didn’t end up sleeping in the airport.

That little liar! Tom had manipulated you to spend the night. What a sneak! Your initial anger gave way to mischief and joy. If not for Tom’s little subterfuge, the two of you may have never gotten together. Still, you couldn’t let him get away with his little scheme scot-free.

You seated yourself at the edge of the bed, legs crossed and his phone in your hand. Tom came out in jeans and a shirt, a toothbrush in his mouth. He looked at you confused.

“Who was it?” he questioned, taking his toothbrush out of his mouth.

You smirked, “Oh just Luke.”

“What did he want, love,” he came over and placed a minty kiss on your forehead, “everything all right?”

“Yeah,” you wiped the remnants of toothpaste off your face, “he was just worried you slept in the airport, instead of your old suite in the hotel.”

Tom’s smile fell from his face.

“I can explain…”

You stood up and walked until you were toe to toe.

“Oh? And what is your explanation for lying about your sleeping arrangements?”

You suppressed a smirk and giggle and you can see Tom scrambling to come up with the right words.

“Well..” Tom held his hands up in defense and then sighed, shoulders slumping, “I couldn’t think of any other way to get you into bed with me.”

His blue eyes sparkled back you, hopeful. You let a Cheshire cat grin spread across your face and you pulled up onto your toes to place a kiss on his lips.

“You are lucky you are so charming, otherwise I might be more mad. Besides, we need to discuss this.” you waved your hands between the two of you.

“We are?”

“Yes. Now excuse me but I have to get dressed…”

Tom settled onto the bed as though you would strip off your pajamas right in front of him.

“… in the bathroom.”

Tom’s face fell.

“You wound me.”

“You lied.” “I promise I will never make that mistake again, darling.”

“Good, now call Luke back while I get dressed.”

You closed the door and got ready. Tom dialed in Luke’s number.

“I’m fine, Luke. I promise. No, I didn’t end sleeping in the airport; I stayed with a friend. No, a female friend. Yes it is her, if you must know. Yes, Luke. I understand. Oh by the way, I will spend a few days in Denver, clear my schedule.”

Tom could hear Luke grumbling through the conversation. He couldn’t resist send him into a tailspin before re-engaging in radio silence.

“Oh and Luke, if you hear any rumors about me, they are true. The photos too.”

With that, he turned his phone off. The next few days were for you and you alone.

[baeklination]

A Wish: Peak Position

Date: 210214

Warnings/Contains: SMUT 🔞, riding (and side dishes), exhibitionism, G.E.L

Pairing: au. Semi famous Baekhyun x F.Reader

WC: 1545

NOTE: From Nameless Anon: “Do you have a baekhyun smut with riding? If not can you do one?😳 “

 I put something in it that I’d already had in mind, and I wrote the oc’s personality “naturally”, since I don’t know you. I hope it’s not too off the mark for you to enjoy..!

Masterlist

                                       ¤¤

   "Out of all the warehouses in Korea he had to pick the dingiest one for his shoot…", you think to yourself when you drive round the back to park. He hadn't specified what you were doing tonight, but he had specifically asked you wear a skirt, so you had an idea.

The cool evening breeze grabs it as soon as you step out of the car.

"Lucky I took a long one", you laugh to yourself as you gather it in your hand to walk unhindered. 

There's a clank and a creaking from the door in front of you as it opens - Baekhyun still has his boyish smile and wets his lips whenever you meet. 

"You found me", he says and greets you with a kiss. "Happy one year."

"Happy one. Your ask wouldn't happen to have anything to do with it..? Dragging me down here as well?"

He laughs and runs his hand through his hair as he takes your hand and starts walking. Coming through to the main area you expect to see some of his romantic antics at work so you're surprised to find...the remnants of his shoot; a sofa and a daybed.

"Eh.. What was this shoot for again?", you joke.

Baekhyun breaks into a laugh that echoes in the near empty space.

"No, there was more stuff here. Decorations, plants and stuff", he gestures with his arm. "Aeh, who cares - now come here and decorate me", he says, sitting down and tugging at your fingers.

You let his comment slide and sit down, pushing your shoes off in the middle of kissing him. His lips, plush and patient, are contrasted by his firm grip around your waist, which eventually make their way under your skirt to your ass. He hums in approval.

"You're not wearing anything…"

You're about to answer when you hear a door slide. Turning around you see a man bowing then hesitantly moving forward.

"Oh, shit. I thought everyone left..!", you whisper in panic and move to get up.

But Baekhyun doesn't let you.

"Shh, honey. He's with me."

Perplexed, you blink at him. "If he thinks I'm having three-way…"

"I asked Choi to stay since it's our anniversary and you know… He's a photographer…"

He caresses your inner thighs with his thumbs. Your heartbeat starts changing from startled to intrigued. 

"Baekhyun...you mean he's here to…"

"Yeah. I thought you'd like it. Do you? I'll tell him to leave if you don-"

"No. I...like it", you agree, a little embarrassed to admit you want someone to watch.

"Just pretend he's not here, be natural", he says and waves his hand for the man to continue. 

"Be natural when there's a guy here taking pictures", you shake your head and chuckle. 

Baekhyun cups your face and puts your hair behind your ear.

"No, it's us. You and me. I'll go first", he says and pulls his jacket off and lifts his hips to wiggle his trousers and boxers down to his thighs.

Baekhyun always turns you on, but seeing him like this - sitting with his blood rushed cock leaning on his stomach when there's someone else there (you hear the shutter behind you) - is another level. He doesn't stop touching your thighs, your ass, when you make out.

"Get on it", he coos, almost asking.

Raising yourself up you wait for him to align himself to your entrance before sinking down, letting the head of his cock slowly glide in, catching your breath, then going to the root. You swear he got bigger, the way he pushes against your walls. It feels dirty, how your skirt is covering you, as if you're having sex out in the open but are trying to keep it secret. But now you don't want to keep it secret. You want the photographer to see how slick Baekhyun's cock is thanks to your juice, how your pussy stretches as it over and over takes him, so you haul it over your head and throw it somewhere. 

"I knew you'd like it", Baekhyun smiles with a moist voice and puts his thumb on your clit, slowly rounding it.

  It feels lewd, your breaths mingled with the shutter of the camera lens, the smacking of your shaking ass on Baekhyun. The juxtaposition between your clothed upper body and naked lower body makes it feel even more so. When Baekhyun rubs harder it doesn't take long until you find yourself pounding his cock with the same ferocity in short, hard, quick sequence and pull him tight by his neck, releasing your moans as you orgasm. 

"Shit…", you pant and laugh into his shoulder. 

"And I was gonna offer you champagne to get you in the mood", he teases. "Do you want some?"

"Really? Sure. Is there a bathroom here?" 

"Mm, the other room, just outside the door. You can take the robe. "

○

Refreshed - and free of your damp shirt - you head back, but can't help eavesdropping when you hear them talking. 

"... I think they're gonna turn out great."

"Yeah, she's beautiful."

  Pretending you haven't overheard their conversation you casually walk back. Baekhyun's moved to the daybed and haphazardly covered himself with a blanket while waiting for you. Choi, sitting on the floor, makes to get up when he sees you, but you urge him to at least finish his drink.

"We're all...beyond friends here", you say as you clink your paper cups with each other. 

After a few minutes Baekhyun lies down and strokes your back. The outline of the blanket is impossible to miss. When you move to straddle him he grabs your waist and pulls you up.

"No, here", he says and keeps nudging until his face is between your legs.

His eyes are fixed on yours as he pushes your folds apart, and he doesn't look away when he brings his pointed tongue to your clit. The champagne made you warm, but Baekhyun makes you burn. He owns you. It's impossible to stay still, impossible to keep your hands from his hair, impossible to mind that Choi is right in front, photographing Baekhyun with your pussy in his mouth. He's savouring you, carefully tasting every bit - leaving no part unkissed, unlicked, unadmired.

"You're wet again…"

You know you have to stop him - if you come again you'll get drained - but the tip of his tongue flicking over your clit feels so good. 

"B, I'm gonna ride you…" 

He hums and kisses you hard, creating a delicious vacuum.

"Mm, go ahead… press your sweet clit into my throat, baby…" 

"Fuck…", you moan as you sink down further and grind against his mouth. 

When you feel the unmistakable murmur of the climb you know it's time to get up.

"No, I meant…", you explain "I mean ride you."

He gets up on his elbows and juts his jaw. His eyes are narrow as he runs his tongue across his lip.

"Do it", he nods.

  His hips automatically rise and fall when you close your mouth around his cock. He's still hard, but swaying in front of you, you can't help but have a taste. Besides, you know he'll obsess over these photos. You look him straight in the eyes, like he did you, putting a little extra moan into it. He tips his head back and breathes through his mouth with a faint smile. He's ready. 

You pause to reach up and give him a kiss, not letting your hand stop pumping. When you back away, he lays down on his arms; when you get on your feet, his chest heaves - he knows you're gonna ride him hard.

  His cock slides in in one go. You don't have to start slow, Baekhyun's been worked up long enough for you to know he wants more than that, so you place your hands on his waist and start; lifting your ass and bouncing hard, with a smack when your bodies meet. He shuts his eyes and moans through biting his lip. You can tell how badly he wants to thrust by the way he's clutching the sides of the bed to keep himself still. 

○

"You're gonna make me come…", he pants, his chest about to explode.

He breathes in sharply through his teeth and exhales. 

"Fuck… Ride me like that, baby… Make me come", he groans, locking his hands around your ankles. 

Balancing on the balls of your feet you go faster, clenching your pussy around his cock. Your legs are straining, but you want Baekhyun's orgasm, and you feel your own whispering, so you keep slamming down on his cock, gripping his waist tightly.

He sucks his stomach and lets out a few shuddering whines right before, then pushes his pelvis up to drive his cock deeper as he comes; it almost sounds like he's in pain - and it's delicious. 

○

  He hums and pulls you down, thrusting slowly while squeezing your ass. It's only then you hear, and remember, you've got a guest, but your focus quickly shifts back to Baekhyun's kisses.

"Sit up. I wanna finish what I started. "

You laugh into his chest.

"You just sprayed me full of cum, B…"

"I don't care...", he whispers, catching your lips. "I want you to come for me."

[seodami]

Dearest treasure | KTH

|PART 1| |PART 2| |PART 3|

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts together)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main Masterlist

2089 (present)

Jungwon took a glance down towards the camera clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly moved up to the big house in front of him. Former white paint - now a dirty grey almost everywhere - was already peeling itself from the walls, dozens of thick ivy tendrils sneaking up to the dirty windows and even further. It looked just like the old spooky houses, Jungwon had secretly seen in horror movies his parents were watching. And it especially felt like it as well.

The cold wind was slowly whirling around the dead leaves on the ground, freeing the view to numerous mounds of earth spreading over the whole front yard and probably even backyard. Some were fresher than the others. Some were older than the others.

Jungwon could feel a wave of goosebumps hushing over his body, clearly not only being the cold winds fault. With one last reassuring nod to himself, he courageously made its way over the small path through the chaotic front yard towards the old wooden front door.

It had terrified him when he was a bit younger to even lay eyes on this house, let alone go any near it, and quite truthfully, Jungwon still felt a tiny wave of fear coming through. He had heard many things around this neighbourhood and school...creepy theories as to why the old man living inside this house was seen digging holes in his garden. From murder to even paranormal activities, everything was possible, referring one of the older kids at school, Park Jongseong, who tended to love scaring innocent young students with these stories. And he even heard parents trying to discipline their children, threatening them to pay ‘Killer Kang’ - that was the old man’s unfortunate nickname - a small visit if they did not behave. It was as if this small town didn’t have anything else to talk about than a lonely, slightly creepy, man. And if he remembered correctly, he never saw or heard anyone even trying to talk to him. So what did they know?

Jungwon heard a lot. To say the least, he questioned himself quietly if he should have just chosen another topic for his video and interview for a school project. He could have. But something deep down told him quietly not to judge too quickly, not to judge a book only by it’s cover. His parents and his grandmother taught him that early on and it stayed with him ever since. He wanted to give this poor scrutinised man a chance to actually explain himself. Why was he always digging these holes into the ground? Maybe he really was a serial killer and this would be Jungwons biggest mistake, but where’s the fun in not even trying? Right? He could only lose, well...his life...

The 14 year old boy quickly shook his head, trying to stay positive. And then he finally pressed the rusty bell on the side of the door. He heard nothing at first, it was as quiet as it could get, no steps, no talking, no TV. The eerie feeling hanging in the air didn’t make it any better for Jungwon to stay calm and not giddy. “You can do this! He’s not even creepy.” He tried to hype himself up.

He almost wanted to ring again, as his heart sunk. Damp slow steps were coming closer and closer, making him hold his breath unconsciously. The door opened in an awful slow motion, revealing the old man everyone was afraid of. White hair framed his sunken in face full of deep wrinkles. He used a walking stick to stand, his position was crouched forward, so he was about the same height as him, maybe even a bit smaller. And when Jungwon met his eyes, there was a glint in them, that almost scared him off like all the other kids would have. But he stayed put.

The man didn’t say anything, just stared at him, awaiting him to explain this very unusual visit. Nobody had ever dared to ring his house. Not even the mailman thought of doing so.

“Good Morning Mr Kang. Uhm ...I am Yang Jungwon.” The young boy began with slightly unstable voice, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am a student at Namgang Highschool and we are currently doing individual video projects containing an interview with someone we find fascinating and want to learn more about. And...I was wondering if...if maybe it would be possible to...interview you?” Jungwon managed to squeak out, hiding his trembling hands from Mr. Kangs boring hawk eyes.

He still hadn’t said anything, looking up and down the underaged student. Then his eyes met his shaky ones again. “Is this a joke again, boy? Because I have no tolerance for silly boy pranks.” He finally muttered out in a harsh tone, letting Jungwon flinch the slightest. He quickly shook his head, implying that this was his last wish to do.

“No sir, no I swear this is a very serious question and project. I wouldn’t dare to do anything but.” The boy rambled, now fiddling nervously with the hem of his uniform jacket. The man pulled his glasses somewhat higher on his nose before he gave the student a hesitant nod.

“You are the first person for years daring to come talk to me...” he noted absent minded, eyes wandering behind the boy to check if there really weren’t any stupid kids hiding inside the bushes. “How...extraordinary.” He muttered, clinging onto his walking stick as he began turning around.

“You said fascinating people, boy? I have to disappoint you, there is nothing interesting about me, I dare say.” A small sigh left his mouth, beginning to close his door slowly but Jungwon was quicker. What had gotten into him? Was it the surprise at his not so cold attire or maybe has he just gone crazy? But Jungwon wanted to know more about his story. There had to be more.

“Sir, no please. You may think so but quite frankly you are the talk of town every day.” Jungwon began but got stopped hearing the other one scoffing displeased. “Killer Kang...I know this nickname they all give me. Do you use it too? I don’t want to have anything to do with people like this.” His tone got harsher again.

Jungwon frantically shook his head again. “I don’t. I would never. This is the reason why I chose to interview you in the first place. I want to hear your part about everything. I think it is only fair to give you a proper chance to explain. They just don’t know.” He gave the man a pleading look. Mr. Kang hesitated again, letting the boys words sink in. He didn’t seem like he could harm a fly, he thought. Was is worth the struggle?

He didn’t know what or why he was doing it but the next thing Jungwon saw was him walking slowly into the house again, leaving the door open. Should he follow? A quick look over his shoulder told him he should. Jungwon couldn’t believe he really meant it so he still stood unsure, fiddling with the silver camera in his hands, metal cooling against his sweaty palms. “Are you coming, or what?” The now softer voice of the white haired man asked still trotting forward in a steady pace.

This woke Jungwon immediately out of his trance, stumbling clumsily stuttering and rambling while thanking him over and over again. He had made it.

He entered the dark hallway, suddenly being hit with a strong smell of a typical musty grandparents house. It remembered him of his own grandmother’s one, where he spent almost half of his childhood. With one swift movement, he gently shut the door and followed the tracks of this houses owner without forgetting to put his shoes off. There were some stacks of newspaper laying around randomly, old picture frames hanging on some of the white and dark green walls and old brown rugs adorning the cold floor. He noticed a small picture of a young lady in a baby blue dress, sitting on a self built swing while smiling ear to ear. But he quickly moved on. It was as every other old people’s home, Jungwon thought.

“Boy, say, do you want a cup of tea? Or water?” The young student heard the now calm voice asking him, seeing as they arrived in the living room. An antique looking glass chandelier was hanging right in the middle, brown couches placed generously inside the big room. Jungwon was surprised. He expected to shake with pure fear in his veins, but why did it feel like he was just visiting his grandparents? A friendly visit. That was the first moment he knew he misjudged the famously feared old man.

“No thank you. I was wondering if I could maybe...film the whole thing? The interview? I prepared some questions already if that is fine with you.” Jungwon timidly pulled out the camera behind his back and soon enough some pieces of paper. There was a moment of silence, Mr. Kang just looking speechlessly at the innocent and oh so polite brown haired boy. His heart already told him, despite his inner conflicts, that he was a nice boy. A really well-behaved kid. He could tell him, he could understand, and maybe even help. At least that was his hope.

“You are really something else. Jungho was your name?” With small steps he wandered to one of the couches, plopping down painfully slow with a nasty crack of his bones into an already deep hollow on the couch. Just like his grandparents. Jungwon by now was really overwhelmed by the mans compliance and...kindness?

“It’s Jungwon, Mr. Kang.” He added, earning an understanding nod from his side, followed by a motion of his hand for him to sit down. “Of course, of course. You can set up the camera on the table if you have to. It was a long time ago since...anyone filmed me.”

It didn’t took long for the eager student to put his camera on the table in a good angle. His script was already sprawled all across his lap and with nervous looks in between, he asked the man if he was ready to begin the interview. Jungwon was aching to know the truth behind the misunderstood lonely person in front of him. He finally wanted to clear the unpleasant rumours about him, wanting to know what really was behind his actions.

“Ready, boy.”

Jungwon clicked the red recording button on his camera, sitting down on the couch behind it. And he did not waste any time to start.

“My first question for you Mr Kang, has to do with your widely spreaded nickname. As you told me earlier, you were already aware of such name. What do you think about it?”

It was the second time, he heard him scoff in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous what people tend to gossip behind someone’s back when they are bored. Whoever believes these ignorant, mindless comments should go to school again and get educated. This nickname... ‘Killer Kang’ -“ he stopped to caugh out loudly, repositioning himself more comfortable in his seat before continuing to talk. “ - holds absolute no truth in it. I can’t seem to think why somebody even invented it.”

Jungwon immediately nodded in agreement, earning a small nod from the man himself. “That was exactly my point. It looked almost like people just invented some crazy untrue theories when they cannot seem to understand a certain...action.” He tried to find the right words. “It’s probably nothing new to hear, but people around this town, I think they came up with this name solely to...to find an explanation as to why...the holes...I mean you digging them with a shovel in your garden...is that...” he lost his voice in the end of his sentence, not wanting to say any wrong words.

But Mr. Kang just nodded, looking out of the window with a distant look. He suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s probably not the answer you or all the people would like to hear. All the foolish theories. It’s something far more...simple.” He looked over to Jungwon, soft eyes under the thick crease above them. He was ready to tell someone. Just anyone. He longed for a conversation for too long, maybe that is why he agreed in the first place.

He was so lonely.

“Let me tell you my story right from the beginning. I hope you do have some time, boy, it might be a longer story.”

And then he began to tell his story. Your story.

[hobidreams]

TES Minis: IV {M}

to celebrate yoongi’s first big break, you give him a proper treat.

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: smut, fluff words: 2.4k contains: condomless sex, dirty talk, oral (m), they get it on in semi-public (there is a limo), yoongi gets spoiled <3 a/n: this is a drabble for The Early Shift, but can be read as a standalone. this was written as a commission for Black Lives Matter!

It’s not a big deal.

Okay, it’s a little bit of a big deal. But is it a big enough deal to warrant all this splurging? Yoongi doesn’t know, as he watches you swipe your credit card on the machine, his stomach pleasantly full of extremely expensive steak. (He doesn’t even know how much the bill actually comes to; the menu didn’t have prices, that’s how fancy this place is.) But damn, was it tasty. And watching you try not to spill anything on your only nice dress was very entertaining indeed.

“Babe, stop it,” you snap, drawing his attention to your slight pout.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking again.”

“It may surprise you, but I do that sometimes.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. Get out of that snarky,” he gives you a look, “but cute mind. All of this is worth it, Yoongi. Your song, going platinum? Of course we have to celebrate!”

“But it’s just one song and there were four other producers—”

“No. You’re not allowed to downplay yourself like that.” You reach over the table, grabbing his hand. You squeeze until he’s smiling (a little exasperatedly) right back at you. He likes the attention, even if it does make him squirm. He deserves to feel proud of how hard he worked. Speaking of, you check your watch and wince at the time. “Come on, we have to go!”

“There’s still more?” Yoongi asks, downing the bit of bubbly alcohol left in his flute before pulling on his blazer.

“Duh. Have you ever known me to half-ass anything?”

“Nope. Never.” His eyes wane as he laughs, flashing those pink gums. “Drives me nuts.”

Stepping into the elevator, he bundles you close against him as it begins to descend. He presses an easy kiss to your cheek while he links your warm fingers together, wordlessly rubbing his thumb on your skin. His tell, for when he’s feeling especially close to you. Your heart grows two sizes bigger.

You’re right on time when you reach the ground floor, dragging Yoongi along to the front of the building. You swivel your head, looking for—ah.

When Yoongi sees the sleek black limousine pull up in front of you, his jaw absolutely drops. You resolve it was worth every won to rent the thing.

“You didn’t.”

“I totally did.”

The young chauffeur steps out of the driver’s seat with a friendly smile and a bow. You return both when he opens the backseat door for you two. “Thank you,” you say, and climb in.

“Where did you even find one of these?” Yoongi is still incredulous as he follows you inside, running his fingers along the nice leather. Limos of this size are rare around town, so you get his disbelief.

You shrug like it was no biggie. “Jungkook knows a guy who knows a guy.”

“Wow. He’s well connected for a kid.” He says it without malice; Jungkook is who he went straight to when he was looking for a flower guy for your first anniversary. That bouquet had been damn magnificent.

Yoongi’s still looking at the full bottles of wine and whiskey that line the sides when the car starts to move. “Where’re we heading?” Some notes of an R&B influenced song float through the air.

“Taking the long way home, so settle in.”

Among all this luxury, Yoongi’s a sight to behold in his dark suit, legs slightly spread, arms stretched, plump lips still a bit wet and doubly enticing. It’s with a smile that you shuffle towards him, messing up your tint on his mouth as a simmering heat lights in your veins.

“Your home or mine?” He whispers when you break for a breath, amused at the baby pink that now rims the side of his lips. He’s also panting a bit more, the crotch of his nice pants starting to feel tight.

“Soon to be ours.”

Yoongi’s eyes soften as he strokes a few strands of your hair. “God, I love you.”

“Sap.” You laugh, squishing his cheek with a finger before going back to get another kiss. This one gets a little steamier than you both intended but you roll with it, tongue slipping into his mouth to meet his in an easy rhythm. Then his hand is on your chest, sliding between the fabric to cup a bare breast in his palm, to squeeze in a way that never fails to make you moan.

“Wait, fuck, shit,” he mutters when he opens his eyes to watch you react, and he remembers where the hell he is right now. He hurriedly pulls his hand away, casting a glance at the poor driver who definitely does not deserve to witness the two of you behaving like horny teenagers.

You quirk a cheeky eyebrow at him. Then to his surprise, you shove him, making him fall backwards onto the leather seats.

“What’re you—”

“Shhhh, we’re celebrating.”

You feel around near the sunroof, and grin when you find the button you’re looking for. With a quiet whirr, the partition starts to go up, blocking the driver from view.

“D-Did you drink too much champagne?” He knows all the ins and outs of your expressions, and this one is dangerous.

“Nope.”

Your smile may be lopsided, but he can tell it’s a hundred percent genuine as you stoop between his legs and run fingers across his belt. You’ve got it unbuckled in seconds, his cock out just as swiftly. Despite all his protests, it’s already half-hard, firm between your fingers.

“Babe, is this even legal?”

You dip your head and Yoongi hisses when your tongue meets his bare skin, unabashedly lapping a stripe across the frenulum. “Who knows,” you hum.

“Baaabe...” He thinks he might lose his mind, watching how you draw back to let a trail of spit drip from your bottom lip right onto his dick, smearing it all over the now-turgid head with your thumb. His girl, still so beautiful even though the only lighting comes from the blurry rows of streetlights that speed past.

You keep your hand slightly slack, sliding it along the shaft at a teasing pace so all you hear is the sensual beat of the current song and your boyfriend’s supressed moans. Occasionally you’ll use your mouth, suck the head into sudden heat to watch how Yoongi’s eyes glaze over with pleasure. But if he thinks this is all you’ve got, then he doesn’t know you at all.

“Open your hand,” you whisper, lips wet against him.

He does. Then gives a groan of disbelieving arousal when you deposit something slinky and black onto his palm. It’s still warm, and he can smell how aroused you are from here. Yoongi had watched you put on the tempting thing a few hours before dinner, but he never imagined he’d be touching them in this scenario. When did you even remove them? It’s a question that no longer matters when you lift your skirt up.

“Damn, I’ve got to write more songs,” Yoongi growls, still keeping his voice muted and low.

You laugh as you dip the hand that’d been on his dick between your thighs. It’s a bit of a challenge to keep yourself balanced on this rather narrow seat, but your determination (or stubbornness) wins out. You part your folds enough so he can hear how ready you are for him.

The sound makes Yoongi eager, already pushing up so he can feel for himself, but you shake your head. “Let me spoil you,” you purr, collecting some slick with two fingertips before slathering it onto the cock that twitches with interest.

“This is more like a punishment.” But he shuts up fast when you start to lower yourself, when he feels the first bit of your tightness accept him, squeeze him. You take it so achingly slow, swallowing an inch just to ease off and make him savor it, all with mischief in your casual expression.

Reality is, though, it’s a struggle. Oh god, you definitely wish you followed Jungkook’s leg and core workouts more strictly now, as you fight to keep from just sinking fully down in one move. At least your muscles haven’t started trembling yet, though they’re getting there as you lean forward, try to alleviate some of the strain by resting your elbows beside his head.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes meet, then kiss away his quiet moan as you drop another inch. The limo seems to hum beneath you as you get closer to home, the apartment that now houses two of your newly adopted plants, and a music producing station now truly on its way to becoming fully-fledged. A space that’s slowly becoming seamlessly shared. “Yoon, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I can—” he chokes when your cunt clenches, “I can feel that.” It’s getting harder and harder for him to keep his mouth shut. You love that, when he can’t help but groan at how well you fit together.

Lower you go, letting your mouth run. “Fuck babe, you’re stretching me out, so goo—”

The pressure comes all at once. Your bodies suddenly jerk forward with the car and in your surprise, you slam down, crying out when his cock smacks against your cervix. The burn quite literally knocks the breath from you, lethal when coupled with the sharp spike of pleasure at being so full. There goes your plan of slow seduction, but neither of you are complaining.

“Sorry!” The driver calls, his voice coming through alarmingly clear through the partition. “Sudden red light!”

You look at Yoongi, and he looks at you. Silly smiles bloom across both your faces before you bury your nose into his neck. His white shirt is getting wrinkly, but who cares because you feel him shift inside you, nudge against your sweet spot and bliss pools in your stomach while you whimper.

“You should be quieter, since the divide is that thin,” Yoongi mutters, hand fondly squeezing your ass. “Even if I like hearing you scream.”

You roll your eyes. “The question is, can you?” It’s a little cramped still, but you work with what you got. Swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto him so he feels how much tighter you become. You scrunch the dress up, wanting to give him a view of how you sheathe all of him with every stroke. He groans appreciatively despite himself.

But it stops being about teasing him soon enough, once that haze of need takes over your brain and you start moving faster without even realizing it. It isn’t long before you’re practically bouncing on his cock, dragging you both closer to your ends with each sloppy squelch. “Shit, if you do that—”

“It’s all you,” you gasp, and it’s true. Yoongi always feels this good in you, no matter if it’s on your tiny single bed or in the backroom of a coffeeshop or an expensive ass luxury limo. On that delicious thought, you press two fingers to your needy clit and whine so loudly it makes Yoongi look at you in alarm. (It’s still fucking hot.)

You cum first, but that’s no surprise. It’s a point of pride for him to never leave you on the edge, and he’s happy to stave off his own orgasm for as long as it takes to get there. Sometimes even twice. But there’s no need for that now when your cunt is leaving him with no other choice than to unravel and fuck his cream as deeply inside you as possible. His hands clamp down on your thighs as his face screws up in concentration, enjoying every last pulse before he’s left with just pants and aftershocks. Just for fun, you manually give him a squeeze of your walls, just to watch him scrunch his nose in oversensitivity.

“Devil.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

It’s only when his cock softens enough to slip out of you that you gingerly shift back onto the seat, sitting with your ass slightly tilted up until he can hand you back the scraps that make up your panties. You feel humid, but it’s kind of nice with his cum still stuffed inside you.

“I think we should rent limos at least once a year,” you say, glowing with sweaty satisfaction. “That was fun.” While this night had cost you a whole paycheck, you’re graduating this year anyway, hopefully into a full-time job. You make a cheeky mental note to set 1% of your future paycheck aside for limo rides or other sex-cursions.

“Yeah, it really was.” Yoongi chuckles as he watches you smooth out your hair.

Seconds later, post-nut clarity evidently settles into his brain because his face falls. “I’m going to have to tip that poor driver everything I have, aren’t I?”

You flash all your teeth with your grin.

Groaning, he glares at his cock before tucking it back into his boxers. “Your pussy is gonna be the death of me.” But he makes you cuddle with him anyway, even though you’re both sticky and your fancy clothes definitely need some heavy dry cleaning.

Outside, you’re starting to recognize the neighbourhood and shops, your scenic route coming to an end. Yoongi sees it too, so he pulls out his wallet and starts flipping through the bills. He looks up every so often, as if doing the mental gymnastics as to figure out how much this kind of thing is worth. He looks so earnest that it makes you feel a little bad for him.

“Yoongi,” you say, after he pulls out way too much money. “Remember when I said Jungkook knows a guy?”

“Yeah...?”

You shut his wallet for him. “The driver does this kind of thing often. So, don’t need to worry about it. He’s used to it.”

Yoongi stares at you blankly. Then his eyes narrow, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that is not supposed to be adorable but totally is. “I was panicking this entire time! I was so worried that—I thought—You just—! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You cackle, planting yourself squarely in his lap before leaning your head on his shoulder. He’s so warm and solid against you, effortlessly comfortable. “Love you,” you say with a smile, “super proud of you.”

Yoongi’s still grumbling when he presses his face into your hair. You don’t hear exactly what he says but you’re pretty sure it’s something like “you’re the worst.” Or maybe (probably) it’s “you’re insufferable.” Either way, it means you’re the most precious person on this earth.

a/n: i can’t tell you how much i love writing soft Yoongi! i hope you love him too 💕 bonus: how did Yoongi ask you to move in? ♡

[seventeenwrites]

Catharsis - Chapter Two

-> Group: The Boyz

-> Type: Short Series

-> Member(s) of Interest: Sunwoo

-> Word Count: ~2.9k

-> Genre: angst, fluff, apocalypse au

-> Warnings: alien apocalypse, guns/weapons, blood, violence, death, cursing, female MC

-> Playlist: Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne; All Right Now by Angel Olsen; Saccharine by Atta Boy; Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka

-> a/n: Hey guys! Here's chapter two! Again, I want to emphasize that my goal with this series is to portray a kind of love which transcends any kind of labels we’ve assigned to love (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.). It may seem a bit hard-and-fast, but I think that is a reflection of the world around these characters. When you don’t know if you will live to see another day, when you are surrounded by death and tragedy, you live and you love without regrets, or at least you try your damnedest to.

Catharsis.

And then, fortunately, my eyes opened. Now, this wasn’t fortunate because I was alive, but rather because of the way I was alive. The fire that had separated Sunwoo and I the night before had died, but the coals were still glowing, so that they could easily be re-ignited. Just beyond the pit lay Sunwoo, still sleeping. One of his shoes had been thrown six feet away in the middle of the night, and his left arm was almost completely smothering his face.

Before I had time to laugh at him, a voice interrupted me.

“Oh, Ari! I’m assuming Sunny filled you in last night.” I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, to find the same man who had yelled at us the night before. Jacob, right? When not puffy-faced and half-asleep, he was much better-looking. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes popped out and his cheekbones were raised nonetheless, in a way that reminded me of my mother's face in her youth. Next to Jacob was another man, who I could immediately tell was the leader of whatever this place was. His nose high on his face and his brow heavy, he was reminiscent of a Renaissance sculpture, elegantly beautiful, yet intimidatingly powerful. He was also impressively clean; everything from his ears to his nail beds were devoid of even a single smudge of dirt.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think so,” I said, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself, suddenly self-conscious of my dirty T-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Good. Sangyeon and I are gonna go collect more firewood. There’s berries and nuts in those if you get hungry.” Jacob pointed to a collection of miscellaneous containers by the centermost tent. Wooden crates, mason jars, old metal lunch boxes decorated with superheroes and princesses, even a piggy bank. Resourceful. Smart, I thought to myself. I turned back to the two men, to find that Jacob had already started walking away. Sangyeon still stood before me and assessed me for a few seconds, slightly nodding his head and furrowing his brow.

“We’ll be back,” he said before slinging a backpack over one shoulder and following Jacob out of the camp. I didn’t blame him. If I was running a camp and one of my members suddenly showed up with a random girl, I would be suspicious, too.

As the day got brighter, more of the members woke up and came to greet me, and I got to know more about who these people were and how this place worked. There was Kevin, who came out of the same tent as Jacob, and who was a self-proclaimed genius chef, but judging by the defined musculature on his small figure, he was useful for more than his culinary skills. In the next tent there was Changmin and Chanhee, who seemed to be attached at the hip; they were both lean, perfect for long-distance running. The next tent housed Eric and Haknyeon, who were both robust and muscular, obvious fighters. The last tent was home to Juyeon, Younghoon, and Hyunjae, who entered last and were all visibly athletic, with their long and sturdy physiques. I had finally figured it out. This place was a powerhouse. No Echo would be a match for these boys.

“Always tardy, huh, sleepyheads?” Changmin jested towards the last three to join our circle around the dead fire.

“SHHH!” Eric suddenly play-whispered, “You’ll wake the baby.” He pointed towards Sunwoo’s still-sleeping figure.

“Eric, you’re literally younger than him,” Kevin laughed while trying to catch berries in his mouth, and failing. Hilariously.

“By like eight months!” Eric shouted, a slight pout donning his face.

“That’s pretty significant, if you ask me.” We all looked down at Sunwoo, whose arm was still covering his eyes, but whose mouth was visibly quivering to maintain a laugh. He peeked out beneath his arm to see what Eric’s response would be, but Haknyeon was already holding Eric back.

“Okay, babies. Let’s calm down. Jacob and Sangyeon will be back soon and I’m sure they’ll have food.” Juyeon hushed-- his voice had a way of calming the boys down that could only have been achieved through years of trust and reliability. His voice and the mention of food seemed to lull the pretend conflict, and pretty soon, side conversations enveloped the entire group. I sat and watched Sunwoo. He was chatting with Kevin who was right next to him, and he was laughing at something, his head thrown back. I found myself smiling. Two smiles in 24 hours. That’s gotta be a record.

Sunwoo’s eyes met mine and I felt my heart leap. He excused himself from his conversation and walked over to sit next to me, placing his hand on top of mine. Again, I noted just how soft his hands were. And warm too, compared to the frigid morning air. As if feeling his warmth made me colder, a shiver traveled down my spine.

“Cold?” Sunwoo asked. I nodded in reply. “Let me in there, then,” he said, pointing at my blanket. I opened it and he stuck himself into my arms, grabbing them to close on top of him. He was warm. Physically, but he also warmed me from the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after playing in the snow, or getting a hug from your mom after your first piano recital. He felt like home.

-------

When Jacob and Sangyeon came back, they were dragging a deer behind them, backpacks chock full of firewood. The boys all scrambled up excitedly; I could only make out random interjections and complaints about hunger from the younger ones.

“You’ll finally get to see me in action, Ari,” Kevin quipped, gathering random tools and ingredients to cook the deer with.

Sangyeon walked up to Sunwoo and I, placing his bag by his feet and looking me up and down, just like he had before he left. Still suspicious of me, I guess. He turned his eyes to the boy next to me, looking him up and down as well, and started, “Go get some water from the stream, will you?”

“Sangyeon, come on! It’s been three weeks already, surely I can do something else?”

“Sunny, I’m sorry, but your legs obviously just not healed yet.”

Sunwoo looked as though he was going to protest again, but Jacob cut in before he could: “Doctor’s orders, bud. I’ll take a look at it again later today.”

Shoulders slumped, Sunwoo dramatically sighed and grabbed my hand, dragging me along with him.

“I’ve been on water duty for three weeks, now. I mean, I understand. They care about me; they want me to be safe, and the path to the stream is clear and short-- almost impossible to get hurt. But like, come on. Three weeks of getting water. I’m sick of this damn path!” He joked, swatting a vine out of his way.

“What happened to your leg, anyway?” I asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” I quickly added, suddenly afraid that it was too personal.

Sunwoo stopped in his tracks, looking at the ground. I could see the wheels turning in his head, as if he was trying to figure out how much of himself to reveal to me. He sighed and let go of my hand, turning to face me. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at me, the morning sunlight shining only on the right half of his face.

“It was about two months ago. A few of us were out looking for clothes and other essentials. We figured we’d go about ten miles east and get to the city that used to be there, hit all of the convenience stores and shopping malls. But we strayed too far from camp, and we got lost on our way back. By sundown we were in the middle of the woods with no shelter, no food, nothing.

“We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Those bastards were wearing our own faces. We couldn’t tell who was real and who was an Echo. Hyunjae did this to me,” he said, referencing his injured ankle, “Pushed me into a big tree trunk. I forgive him, obviously. It was crazy, and he was trying to protect himself. That same night…” he trailed off.

I could tell that he was about to cry, since he was starting to choke on his words, “That same night, I-- I killed one of our guys. Didn’t know it was him until it was too late, until he was already bleeding red. I shot him. He was flailing around all crazy-like with his knife. I didn’t know if he was him or an Echo, so I shot him. I should've-- I should’ve shot his foot, or his hand, to see his blood. But I didn’t. I got him right underneath the heart. Missed it by a hair. So I held him as he went. For thirteen minutes, I held him. I looked him in the eyes as the life left ‘em and I held his hands as they went limp. That poor fucking bastard, I’m so sorry to him.”

Sunwoo was crying. It was a cry I had never seen or heard from a human before. It was absolutely, heart-wrenchingly tragic, and the only thing I could do for him was hold him. I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that he was still a good person, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that I loved him, because he knew that, too.

I didn’t tell him that his member was in a better place, because we both knew it wasn’t true.

-------

When we got to the stream, we were holding hands again. Sunwoo was still wiping tears off of his face with his free hand, but he was smiling again.

“Whaddya say, Ari? Care for a little dip before we head back?” Sunwoo teased, rocking his shoulders as if to say I’m joking, but if you’re down, then I’m really fucking down.

“Fine, kid,” I chortled, “but only because that water looks deliciously crisp right now.”

I turned away to place all of the water buckets on the ground, and when I turned back, Sunwoo was standing a yard or two away, facing the water. He reached down and took his shirt off in a swift and seamless motion, one which seemed to me only men were capable of performing. The sunlight kissed his skin, illuminating its smooth and tanned surface. The shadows of his shoulder blades danced across his back as he attempted to balance on a stepping stone. The gentle slope of his neck blended seamlessly into the crease of his spine which traveled all the way down his back, like a book that I never wanted to stop reading. His arms, outstretched in a balancing act, were lean, yet capable and sturdy shooting arms, slightly different in size as a reflection of his right-handedness.

He turned around to look at me, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were still bloodshot and puffy from crying, and his face still splotchy, but his smile-- his smile was brighter than the light of any sun. I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my life. I smiled back at him, and I felt my own eyes start to well up with tears.

“Come on, Ari! This stream isn’t gonna skinny-dip itself!” Forgiving his slightly awkward--yet adorable--phrasing, I accepted his challenge, jumping in with him.

As our heads both emerged, we held hands under the water, my thumb rubbing the soft skin of his. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of my ear, before settling his face into the crook of my neck. And then, again, we felt like nothing more than an extension of the earth below our feet and the sky above our heads.

Catharsis.

-------

Sunwoo and I arrived back at camp and we were met with ten horrified faces. To be fair, we looked an absolute mess. Our clothes were sopping wet, hanging off of our bodies like rags. As our feet had been too wet to put our shoes back on, we walked back barefoot, as evidenced by the dirt, mud, and scratches littering our ankles and calves. Our hair, like something out of a horror movie, dangling in front of our faces in stringy and curly sections.

“Sunny! What the heck, dude?” Jacob cried, staring in shock at Sunwoo’s now dirty and tattered bandage on his ankle. Sunwoo half-smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Cobie. You should’ve seen the stream today! It was so beautiful; we just had to swim in it!” He replied, a slight pout on his lips.

Chanhee was sitting at the fire a few feet away, a sly smile engulfing his face. “Oh sure,” he teased, “Swimming. I bet that’s all you two were doing.” He puckered his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, a type of mockery I hadn’t seen since high school. I couldn’t help but giggle at him, even if he was jumping to conclusions, and incorrect ones, at that.

Sunwoo and I hadn’t kissed. We didn’t need to, and maybe we never would. We only needed to hold each other. And frankly, that’s all I wanted to do for the rest of my days.

As Jacob unwrapped the bandage from Sunwoo’s ankle, his smile faltered for a second before he replaced it. I knew that look. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What is it?” Jacob looked at me, contemplating, then turned to Sunwoo and sighed. He resumed his faux angry persona from earlier, resembling a loving parent.

“This is why I told you to be careful, Sunny! The wound must have reopened at some point, and you got it dirty when you were out there. It should be fine if we wash it and dress it with herbs, but you’re gonna have to stay off of it for longer-- and no more playing in dirt, for Christ’s sake, Sunny.” Sunwoo looked like a child getting scolded for tracking dirt into the house, but I could see the twinkle of mischief still ever-bright in his innocent eyes.

Sangyeon walked over to us, still as reserved and stoic as ever. He looked me over as he always did, eyes filled with suspicion and piqued interest. He turned to Jacob, who I had figured out was something of a second-in-command.

“We’ve received word of a pack about a mile west. We should head out now, while it’s still bright out,” he turned to look at Sunwoo, still talking to Jacob“This is sort of an all-hands-on-deck situation. Is he okay to shoot?”

Sunwoo replied for Jacob by standing up, still young and eager to prove himself, “I’m fine, I promise! I’m not in pain, and my ankle won’t affect my shooting if I’m sniping. Sir.” Sangyeon looked Sunwoo up and down, slightly nodding his head, then reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t get hurt again, buddy. We can’t lose anyone else.” That was the first time I had seen Sangyeon let his guard down, and I even saw a tear slip out of the corner of his left eye. Sunwoo bit his lip in an attempt to suppress the tears he had already let go that morning. Sangyeon was quick to wipe it and resume his cold air, though, and he turned to look at me, unsure of what to do with me.

“What do you mean you received word? And why are you seeking out Echoes? Shouldn’t we be, like, hiding from them?” I asked.

Sangyeon stared at me again. “I hear you’re good with a knife.”

“Not good. Excellent.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving my questions unanswered, to which I looked at Sunwoo in disbelief.

A slight smile spread across Sunwoo’s face and he started walking towards one of the smaller tents, expecting me to follow him. When I walked in, I saw more radios than I had ever seen in my life. Old ones that couldn’t have been less than 60 years old, the ones that were built into flashlights, walkie talkies, even old car radios.

“Kid, what the hell is this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“This, Ari, is anything that can send or receive signals through the next hundred miles. Over the year and a half we’ve been here, we’ve found all of them.”

“B--But why?”

“So we can get them before they get us. There are lots of us out there, we send word to each other if we see or hear of Echoes that we can’t get ourselves.”

The wheels in my head were turning so quickly, and I still couldn’t understand it.

“So-- So you guys actually… hunt Echoes? You don’t just run from them?”

“That’s right. And we’re gonna keep hunting them. Until every one of those bastards is six feet under.”

It all finally made sense. How organized and resourceful they all were. How skilled they all were at fighting. The hierarchy and positions they all assumed, with Sangyeon at the top. This wasn’t a camp.

It was a machine. An Echo-hunting machine.