#i have a permanent hand imprint over my mouth from holding it so hard

[yeowvng]

i just wanna save every single frame sukuna shows up and admire them for hours

[nanaslutt]

Hiii hope you are well ❤️💜💕💕you're a amazing human being and I love your work 😘💖 requesting sukuna fucking you from the back while holding you in a choke hold with his big bicep (true form or not it's fine)?

Have a wonderful dayyy😭😭💜

This is uhhhhhhhhh read at your own discretion (ILY nonnie ty for the ask<3)

Contains: fem reader, true from sukuna, double penetration, blood, so much degradation, dirty talk, manhandling, rough sex, hair pulling, passing out, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, blood, dacraphillia, cumming inside, talk of pregnancy, dub con if you squint, mind break, strangling, breath play

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Fucking." thrust "Take it." thrust. Sukuna fucked his inhumanly large dicks in and out of your holes at an almost intolerable pace. He had completely filled you up, not a single ridge inside your pussy was being neglected as his massive cocks abusing your sore holes.

He had two large lands gripping your waist, while he dug his nails into your skin, making pretty streaks of crimson blood drip down your hips and thighs. One hand was dangling by his side, occasionally leaving harsh slaps against the fat of your ass, while his other—arguably the meanest limb—currently had you in a chokehold.

The massive curse would squeeze his arm around your throat and completely constrict your airflow before he loosened it for a couple seconds, laughing at you while you gasped and sputtered, choking down the oxygen he allowed you to. You were positive he had ripped you open at some point, it had been hours and you still hadn't adjusted to his cock properly. Every time he pulled back his hips and thrust his cocks inside you, you felt like your guts were being shoved out of the way to make room for him.

You had gone numb to his nails that dug into the flesh on your hips, too focused on the painful pleasure you were feeling between your legs. "Fuck! Fucking bitch-" He cursed, squeezing your neck tighter and leaving a mean slap on your ass when he felt you cum around him for the nth time that night. The pulsing and clenching of your walls made the pace of his hips stutter before he got ahold on himself again. "Did I say" slap "You could fucking" slap "Cum?" he snarled, spanking your ass so hard you swore it would leave a permanent imprint of his hand against your skin.

"'M s-ooryy, sorry s-ahh!" You tried to speak through his heavy thrusts, but he was having none of it. "Didn't say you could fucking talk either," The king emphasized with a particularly hard thrust, that made you dizzy as you yelled out in pain. "Gotta shut you up." He growled, pausing his hips for a second before he cupped his free hand over your mouth, completely covering your mouth and nose as he once again squeezed his bicep around your neck. "Try not to die." He laughed menacingly into your ear before his hips started up a bruising pace.

Your eyes immediately rolled back into your head at the overbearing stimulation. You were thrown into fight or flight mode when you tried to gasp against his hand but to no avail. Sukuna kept his hand firmly pressed over your face to ensure that no oxygen would enter your lungs. "Aww, is the little slut crying?" He giggled, staring down between the two of you at the mean arch he had you in, watching his cock leave your asshole, lined with streaks of blood.

"You wanted this, kept fucking around so I brought you into my domain like you wanted." He snarled, gripping your jaw with his current hold on your face and turning it to the side so he could get a glimpse of your expression. Your face had gone pale, save for the deep blush that covered your cheeks. Your eyes had lost focus, continuously rolling into the back of your head with each thrust he gave you, and your soft cheeks were wet with your tears—those same eyes had begun to swell up from how long you had been crying.

He was right though, your fucked up body was loving this, you would scream that from the rooftops if he allowed you to, but right now it was quite evident he didn't want anything to do with your voice. "Oh fuck." He laughed, his four eyes all staring into yours as you did your best to keep yourself awake, trying to maintain eye contact with the curse to the best of your ability. "You really are crying." He bared his teeth to you as he smiled maliciously, both of his cocks twitching at your fucked up expression.

He watched intently with bated breath as your eyes fully rolled back into your head, your body going limp in his hold as he smiled, "Yeesssyesyes, fuck." He groaned, before releasing his hand from your mouth and simultaneously loosened his hold on your neck. Immediately his big hand started slapping your face harshly, "You don't get to get out of this that easily." He laughed, watching you slowly regain consciousness against him as you coughed and sputtered into the air when you came to.

"How was your nap?" His laugh vibrated your body, at some point he had picked you up a couple inches off the ground, and you internally thanked him as you had lost feeling in your legs quite a long time ago. Your moans echoed loudly in the space of his domain, whines turned into screams when he scratched his nails deeper into the skin of your thighs, reminding you of his hold there.

"You're a fucking mess." He chastized, as you gasped and cried into the space in front of you. Your smaller hands came up to grip his bicep, using the little strength you had left in your body you push his arms towards your neck once more, silently telling him to choke you out again.

Sukuna's eyes shot up in disbelief, were you seriously trying to order him around right now? You had balls, he would give you that. "Oh you want to die don't you, bitch?" He snarled, releasing you from the chokehold he had you in and instead used two hands to wrap around your neck and strangle you while he fucked his hips into you impossibly harder.

“You like this? Huh?" He growled as your cunt unashamedly squeezed around his cock, "Such a fucked up human I caught." He laughed to himself while you gasped and clawed at his hands, leaving angry red marks on his skin. "What's wrong? Gonna pass out again? Huh?" He cooed, feigning remorse while he felt your body try to fight back against him.

Despite how bad you had wanted him to choke you out, your body was going to register his actions as a threat no matter what. "God, stop fucking squeezing or I'm gonna cum inside." He said, making you panic slightly. You weren't on birth control, but you weren't even sure if a curse could get a human pregnant. Sukuna was a special case, which made you even more confused. Not like you had the brain power to go over the logistics of that right now anyways.

He felt your cunt and ass squeeze his cocks simultaneously at his words, also noticing how you tried to shake your head at him, warning him not to. "Oh does that scare you?" He asked, unimpressed when you continued your annoying moaning and babbling, not answering him. "I asked you a question, brat." He growled, squeezing your throat harder for a brief second before he loosened his grip, allowing you to breathe.

You gasped and choked on the oxygen, trying to turn your head to the side to look at him when you spoke, making little progress in your efforts as his hold on your neck was quite strong. "N-no, do-nt cum insdie." You cried, making him smile at your weeping face. "No?" He repeated, pouting his lip out at you in faux sympathy, "But I want to." He said, shaking your neck in his grasp and making your empty head shake around like a bobblehead toy.

You had no strength in your body left to fight him, opting to face your fate and let him have his way with you, you would deal with the consequences later. You couldn't lie that the thought of this terrifying man filling you up in both holes for the first time didn't excite you. The rational part of your brain was slipping further and further away from you the longer he fucked you. He was hitting all the right spots inside you, and at some point, the pleasure had started to overwhelm the pain.

He noticed your body had stop stying to fight him, falling limp to his ministrations as he pressed his hips flush against your ass and rotated it in circles, "You want my cum inside you, human?" He asked, his deep voice against your ear sent goosepumps down your arms. "Wanna be my concubine huh? Ill keep you here forever," He groned, his hips still rotating in circles and massaging your sweet spots, "Ill fuck load after load into your used-up cunt, till I get you pregnant." His voice was pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

You knew this was fucked up but you couldn't bring yourself to care right now, he was working you over so fucking well. "Yesyesyes Sukuna~ S-sukuna pl-ease~" Your hoarse voice whined out, broken up by his thrusts. In any other scenario, he would've cut you down for using his name without permission, but right now, your cunt and asshole were milking him quickly toward his orgasm, he was too close to care. He groaned at your words, his large hands abandoning their place around your neck to grab your tits and massage them, digging his nails into the flesh there, hard enough to draw blood as he used your body to ground himself.

"Fuck- sloppy fucking pussy gonna make me cum-" He groaned. His eyes wandered up to your neck, and he shook his head at the dark purple marks that littered your skin there, he couldn't help but think how fucking pretty it looked. The sight brought him closer to his high as his hips started losing their pace against your ass. "P-please- c-can I c-cum" You wined. He smiled at you, proud that you remembered to ask before you so greedily orgasmed without his permission. He was the one who was so kindly fucking you after all, so he should get the say in weather you cum or not.

"You can cum after me." He challenged, wanting to see if you could really make it. From how hard and rapidly your cunt was pulsing around him, he didn't think you would last much longer. "F-fuuuuck fuckfuck." You whined as he fucked the moans from your throat. He shook his head in disapproval, "Such a naughty mouth, remind me to take care of that next time." He said in response to your cursing as one of his large hands abandoned its hold on your hip to push your lower back down into a meaner arch against him.

The promise of a next time almost made you cum around him at what was to come. You had no idea how you held yourself back, maybe it was your inner consciousness afraid of what he would do to you if you disobeyed him, but you managed to hold out long enough for the king to cum. "Fuck, take it all, if you let a drop go to w-waste, I’ll kill you where you stand." He promised, clenching his jaw together as the rope started to untangle in his stomach.

His head tipped back, his jaw going slack as the first suprts of his cum started flooding your cunt and asshole. The second you felt his seed fill you up, you came around him, your holes milking him through his orgasm as you came harder than you ever have. If it wasnt for his four arms that held your body up, you woulve gone slack against the floor, "Fuuuuck! Fucking" thrust "Take my cum" thrust "Yesyesyes" The curse groaned, biting his lip at the intensity of his own orgasm.

His cum filled you up to the brim, the feeling of his warm seed filling both your holes at once felt strange and uncomfortable, but also weirdly right, you felt like this was your purpose—like his words were true, maybe your purpose really was to be here and be at his beck and call whenever he needed to release his stress, or simply wanted to get off.

He didn't wait for your own orgasm to finish before he released your body from his hold, letting your weak body fall to the ground of his domain by his feet, his cocks slipped out of you with a lewd squelching sound as you twitched below him in your aftershocks. The mouth on his stomach smiled at you, matching his own expression before it opened to lick your blood and juices off of his orgasm, and swallowing it greedily.

Your eyes fluttered as you started to come down from your orgasm. The massive figure in front of you ran a hand through his sweaty hair before his heavy leg kicked you in the stomach, not too hard, but hard enough to make you cough and direct your attention up at him. Before you knew it his face was in front of you and his large hand was in your hair as he raised you up from the ground with that grip alone, making you wince and whine in pain.

He stood to his full height once more, dragging your head and pressing it flush against his dirtied cocks, smearing your cum and blood on the side of your face as he gave you a disgusted look, "Clean your mess, useless human." He spat, digging his nails against your scalp. You gripped your hands into his massive thighs, and looked up at him from underneath your lashes, practically looking at him with hearts in your eyes as you rubbed your head against his thigh before kitten-licking one of his dick's tips.

He huffed out a laugh of disbelief at how obedient you were. How did he manage to find such a perfect fuck toy? Let alone a human toy at that. He could work with this.

[inklore]

sending a little commander mills thot 💖 stopping for the night in a dark, deep cave. sharing a bed roll quickly turning into something more, as you end up on your hands and knees beneath him. there’s a rattle of stones near the entrance and his large hand is pressing over your mouth to keep you quiet - his senses on high alert for danger. but even then, mills can’t help the shallow rock of his hips - unable to resist how good you feel

warning signs

pairing: commander mills x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k+

contents: unprotected p in v, creampie, small amount of dirty talk, i didn't classify what planet they were on but threats are occurring, slight enemies to lovers, rough.

note: i'd let this man have his way with me in an open warzone and i have no shame about it because this idea has me insane.

You should have known. 

You should have known this planet would be nothing but a bad omen when you had to emergency land on it. When you lost contact, your ship deciding to stop working properly. When the only way of getting out a signal was to rig the system built within the interface of the hunk of metal. Ultimately destroying any chance of getting out of here on it but allowing you to get out a weakened signal, you hoped your home planet would come and swiftly send someone to you before this planet showed just why it was inhabitable by those who walked on two legs and didn’t prefer the taste of game. 

You should have known that Mills would be the worst person to crash land with.

Should have known he’d only raise your blood pressure and have a permanent scowl curve your brows until it gave you a headache. 

And you really should have known that he’d be this big. 

His stature alone suggesting that was more to him than broad deltoids beneath those clothes. More than just deadpan looks and side eyes of scolds and warnings behind those iris’s. Behind the moments and trips the two of you have taken together over the years. 

You should have known that his cock would stretch you like this. Making your insides burn when he thrusts inside of you. Your walls accommodating something that’s bringing you pleasure at the same time it has you mewling in pain—something big and hot and heady that’s making your fingers dig into the dirt. 

Your back arched at an angle that has your body scraping forward against the ground every time Mills snaps his hips against your ass. His cock going deeper and deeper—the tip hitting that spot inside of you that makes your body want to run from him, want to escape the pleasure and the sting of him going past what your bodies used to—his nails digging into your hips. Moonshaped marks embossed in your skin as he holds your ass in place. As he refuses to let you squirm away from him.

Because you wanted this, didn’t you?

“You’ve been begging for it.” He says with a heavy breath. A groan mixed somewhere in there, you’re sure of it but can’t decipher it fully with how you sound. How the back of your hand is covered in your own drool and bite marks from trying to muffle the moans and whines coming from your mouth. 

There’s a rock under your knee that has left an imprint into your bone, has cut the skin with how your body is moving. If you focus on it hard enough, you may even feel a trickle of blood. Or the indents of stone and caked on dirt on your elbows. 

But all you can feel—all you can hear, sense, smell—is Mills and what he’s doing to you. What he’s doing to your body and how you never want him to stop. Never want to go back to the time when the two of you pretended there was nothing there. 

The thrusting of his hips imprinted on your nerve endings, and you can’t imagine a time, a moment, or a place where you don’t want him to bend you over something and take you. Have you. 

“Who knew all you needed was my cock to have you so compliant.” Mills grabs the back of your neck. His grip just as rough and embossed as the fingers at your hips. The weight of his chest drapes over you in a way that has you pushed further into the ground and your ass higher in the air, shoving his cock to the hilt, a cry falling from your lips. His name coated in a pleading whimper. 

“Next time you’re not listening to me, all I’ll have to do is fuck you, huh? Bend you over and fuck you until you’re ready to admit who’s in charge here.” 

There’s some part of your psyche that wants to fight against this. That wants to throw his words back in his face with something snide and angry, but you’re fucking pudy between his fingers, and he’s molding you into a perfect compliant hole for him. 

Into someone who wants to follow his orders just as long as they get his cock in return. 

But you still open your mouth to try to tell him just as much. To ask him to fuck you harder or agree with him, you’re not sure because it dies in your throat.

The words fall to the pit of your stomach as the both of you stop in place as your body feels the soft rumble of something moving outside of the cave. The rustling of trees, rocks, and branches being stepped on. 

“Mills,” you murmur his name. Soft enough for him to hear but apparently too loud for his liking as he shushes you. His hot breath against your ear, his hands maneuvering your legs so they’re underneath him now as he lays on top of you. The massive width of his chest makes you feel engulfed in him. 

His hair against your cheek, his breath held in his lungs just like your own. 

You try to listen. Try to hear anything approaching, growing closer to your indisposed state. The two of you not in a position to move as quickly as you should to protect yourselves. Mills not seeming to be as on edge as you are, the faith he has in himself to grab his gun quickly enough if whatever is outside moves in closer, is almost aggravating. 

Your mouth parts to tell him this, to push him off of you so the both of you won’t die while he’s still hard inside of you. 

But instead of an argument, a gasp falls from your lips as you feel Mills rock his hips against you. The tip of his cock pulled back to your entrance only to be thrust back in slow, and agonizingly sharp all in one quick rock. 

“Mi-” his palm presses against your mouth, silencing you.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your ear. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been needing this, to fuck you.” His heavy breath and the deep timber of his tone as he tries to keep quiet, as he speaks the words for only you to hear, to know, and to feel, wash over your spine and lay achinly between your thighs where the shallow rock of his hips against your ass has your nailbeds housing rockbed as you try not to become a sobbing mess behind his hand. “You feel s’fucking good.”

And if the two of you were to die like this; with Mills rutting against you, his cock stretching you, his deep breaths and praises against your ear, your slick coating his length as you come, and his come leaking from you—leaving your pussy a warm and sticky mess as he continues to thrust inside of you even after the fact, as if he’s trying to keep all he can inside of you—then so be it. 

You’d die happy.

[doumadono]

Ahh, I hope I'm not late for Sinful Sunday,

cuz I love your writing sm and I was rereading the kny manga and just couldn't stop thinking about Douma with a size kink, LIKE WHY IS HE SO TALL AND BIG ACTUALLY, I just want him to manhandle me so bad🫣😭

A/N: thank you for your kind words about my writing. Yes, Douma is so tall and handsome, and I'm certain he would have a massive size kink, being so turned on just by looking at your small, fragile body ♥

SINFUL SUNDAY

“Fuck, Douma!" You can’t breathe from the stretch; you thought two of his fingers would be enough, thought one orgasm would make you slick enough to take him. “Douma, ah!"

He grins, pecking your lips before he sits up, pulls his fingers out slowly. “You’re too small," Douma jokes, “At least I know that pussy’s gonna feel like a vice when I finally fit.”

“Any pussy’s gonna feel like a vice around your dick, Douma-sama,” you smile.

“Yeah, but I only want yours, lotus." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “You know,” Douma props himself up over you, pinning your hips to the bed with his tummy, your legs splayed either side of him, “I don’t have to be inside you to get us both off.”

You nod, “I do know. What are you thinking about?”

He kisses you, then ducks his head to kiss your neck, moving down your body with a trail of nips and licks and kisses and faint scrapes of teeth. He stops just below your bellybutton, eyes dancing with mischief as he looks up at you. “My dick might not fit, but my tongue will.” He laughs, hands moving to the underside of your thighs, holding you open for him. “So pretty and small, so sexy.”

You clench around nothing, drawing his gaze to your waiting hole.

With no more preamble, he ducks down, licking a long stripe up your slit and seals his lips around your clit, groaning at the taste of your wet heat, eyes locked on your face.

It’s like being devoured, like he’s a starving man, and you’re an all-you-can-eat buffet, like you’re giving him the best thing on earth just by letting him eat you.

He can’t keep his rainbow eyes on you for long, giving in to your taste, groaning again as his mouth moves down, licking at your pussy, thrusting his tongue inside you as his nose bumps your clit, all his senses full of you. He could stay here for the rest of his life and never get bored.

“F-Fuck, Douma!" Your hands move to his silver hair, tugging the strands as he somehow moves closer, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. “So good, Douma, so good, right there!” You grind your hips into his face, and his grip tightens on your thighs, thumbs digging into your soft flesh, hard enough to leave bruises over the recently healed ones he’d already left, fitting his hands in the same spot as though there’s a permanent imprint of him on your skin.

Your body seizes and spasms, relaxes and tenses all at once, your neck bared and strained as your cries fill the air.

The noises he makes as he laps at you, works you through your orgasm, brings you down slowly, are downright obscene; wet slurps, rough groans as you gush over his tongue. Douma could live between your legs if you let him.

"Douma," you gasp.

He positions himself at your slick entrance and easily pushes in.

You let out a loud growl, your head rolling back as his length stretches your pussy out. "Oh, yes, Douma-sama, yes!"

His hips snap as he thrusts hard into your pussy, his pace relentless. Douma lifts both of your legs and rests them against his shoulders, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust he makes. His pace quickens, and soon the chamber is filled with nothing but your moans and his guttural grunts until he reaches his climax, spilling his seed into your pulsating cunt.

"Mmm, that's it, my lotus. My little, beautiful flower."

[delirious-donna]

NSFW Alphabet [Tobirama Senju]

Masterlist

B - Body Part

It's not quite a body part, but Tobirama really likes his facial markings. The three red marks that adorn his face are striking, and he often admires them for a moment or two when he shaves in the mornings.

You also adore his crimson streaks, as you like to call them. Your dainty fingers glide across the sharp angles of his jaw until you are tracing the lines under his eyes before dipping to the one on his chin.

"My handsome husband."

He scoffs, shooing your fingers away but secretly he loves it. Craves your attention and the little moments of adoration that you show him.

The marks were something he chose to have imprinted permanently on his skin when he turned of age. It was a promise to himself that he would continue to work hard to protect Konohagakure and turn the village into a prosperous power within the Shinobi world.

A promise that he had kept to his day.

During your early courtship with Tobi, you had asked him what the three red markings meant, to which he replied;

"Mind, technique, body."

I - Intimacy

What most see from Tobirama is not the version of him that you witness. Yes, he can appear grumpy, a little abrupt with no patience for time wasters, but there is a softer side to the Second Hokage that only a select few are privileged to see.

For all his sterner traits, his soft spot really is you.

He can't help the small gentle smile that slides into place when you walk through his office door. The little picnic basket hooked on your arm, he is constantly amazed by how caring and selfless you can be.

His job means he has to spend long hours in his office, mountains of paperwork to look over, assigning missions and listening to important debriefs. Although he is a highly intelligent man, there are times when his concentration slips due to his mind wandering to your current doings.

Tobi wants to spend more time with you, often choosing to rise before the sun to work for a few hours in the hopes that it means he can return to your warming embrace at a reasonable time.

PDA is not a given with your husband, he finds it unnecessary and quite frankly, he doesn't wish for others to see your shared kisses - they are private affairs. However, he does enjoy holding your hand as you stroll the streets of Konoha. His thumb caresses the back of your hand with every step you take.

His favourite moments are when you are both laying in bed, your chin resting on his chest as you play with his silver locks. Chatting about everything and nothing, it is liberating to have someone to rely upon and he adores your unique take on current events.

"You're so precious to me sweetheart, you do know that?"

And you do - you really do.

K - Kink

Orgasm denial.

Hoo boy, you best believe that if you displease your husband in any way, he is going to destroy you by denying you exactly what you want - what you need.

"Tobi," you whine, twisting your wrists which he has clasped in an iron grip above your head.

His hot mouth pulled from your pebbled nipple with a wet-sounding 'pop' and his fingers danced deftly around your tortured clit. Your hips sought to grind, to move so that his touch would be directly where you needed it, but he was too clever to fall for your schemes.

"Hmm? Does the bad girl have something to say? An apology perchance?"

You are close to losing your damn mind.

Brought to the precipice on more occasions than you can count, only to be left hanging. His touch lifting at the exact moment you craved him most. Your husband knew how to play your body like a fiddle, every twitch of your muscles was noted by the ever-calculating male.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. So so sorry," you yell, sounding on the verge of tears as you tried to press your thighs together for much-needed friction.

"Please baby, need to cum so damn bad."

Soft silver hair rests against your tender flesh, carmine eyes observing you as if testing the weight of your apology. A slow smirk spreads from his lips, two fingers spearing into your fluttering cunt. He presses directly on your g-spot and your body ignites into white-hot pleasure.

Spine bowed off the mattress. Tits straining into his face, a silent beg for him to suckle you. Every muscle spasms simultaneously as you finally - finally - reach the finish line.

"There's my good girl," your gruff husband coos, "not gonna do that again, am I right sweetheart?"

Being honest, you can’t even remember what it was that caused his irritation in the first place and you’re too blissed out to care.

W - Wild Card

Why is the sight of you bound on the mammoth bed you both shared so ridiculously alluring?

Tobirama is turned on by the moments of power exchange in the bedroom, they are infrequent simply because they are intense and special.

The flex of the ropes binding your wrists to the intricate headboard makes him groan quietly. His fingers check over the knots to ensure your safety but also to make sure you cannot wriggle free.

Your knees are bent upwards with each ankle tied to your thighs and your sweet cunt open to his gaze, glistening with arousal.

He tweaks your nipple just to see you squirm and hear your whimpers.

It’s going to be a long night, settle in for tortured ecstasy as your husband treads the fine line between pleasure and pain with practised ease.

The gleam in his crimson eyes tells of how aroused he is, the swipe of his tongue against his lower lip making you arch against the restraints, desperate for a taste of those lips.

You trust him implicitly, and he is honoured with the level of vulnerability you are willing to show him.

His silver locks look beautiful as he buries his head between your bound thighs, revelling in the wet sounds his mouth makes on your needy cunt.

He is going to keep you in place until you are both utterly spent. His cock spears into your depths with long powerful strokes, dragging his length against your clenching walls until you are milking him for his precious seed.

Only then is he going to untie you carefully and massage the areas that had been restrained. Bringing them back to life with such reverential touches. Making you sip water slowly and ensuring you are feeling okay. He knows you sometimes cry, he hates it but understands that it is simply a reaction to such intensity.

“You’re too good for me sweetheart.”

[pumpkin-stars]

Compromise

Frankie Morales/AFAB!Reader

Kinktober Day 8: Size difference & Cunnilingus

Word Count: 741

Warnings/Content: Francisco “Big Dick” Morales, Francisco “Pussy Eating King” Morales, attempted penetration, jokey sex, lots of oral and enthusiasm, just PWP, smut right below the cut (no plot this time!)

My Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my Taglist

@the-purity-pen​‘s full kinktober list is here

“Fuck, Frankie!” You can’t breathe from the stretch… you’d thought two of his fingers would be enough, thought one orgasm would make you slick enough to take him. “Frankie-“

“You wanna stop?” He winces, “I’m sorry.”

“I- can you pull out? I’m sorry, you said it wouldn’t be enough and I wanted to go ahead anyway.” You smile at him, cupping his cheek. “You’re just too fucking big Fish.”

He grins, pecking your lips before he sits up, pulls out slowly, only two inches in. “Maybe you’re too small.” He jokes, “At least I know that pussy’s gonna feel like a vice when I finally fit.”

“Any pussy’s gonna feel like a vice around that thing,” you smile.

“Yeah, but I only want yours, sweetheart.” He grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Y’know,” He props himself up over you, pinning your hips to the bed with his tummy, your legs splayed either side of him, “I don’t have to be inside you to get us both off.”

You nod, “I do know. What are you thinking?”

He kisses you, then ducks his head to kiss your neck, moving down your body with a trail of nips and licks and kisses and faint scrapes of teeth. He stops just below your bellybutton, eyes dancing with mischief as he looks up at you. “My dick might not fit, but my tongue will.”

You grin, “Go on then, big boy.”

He laughs, hands moving to the underside of your thighs, holding you open for him. “So pretty.”

“Thanks.” You clench around nothing, drawing his gaze to your waiting hole.

With no more preamble he ducks down, licking a long stripe up your slit and seals his lips around your clit, groaning at the taste of your wet heat, eyes locked on your face.

It’s like being devoured, like he’s a starving man and you’re an all-you-can-eat buffet, like you’re giving him the best thing on earth just by letting him pleasure you.

He can’t keep his eyes on you for long, giving into your taste, groaning again as his mouth moves down, licking at your pussy, thrusting his tongue inside you as his nose bumps your clit, all his senses full of you. He could stay here for the rest of his life and never get bored.

“F-Fuck Frankie!” Your hands move to his hair, tugging the strands as he somehow moves closer, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. You’d said that once, and he’d grinned at you, left you with goosebumps as his patchy beard glistened with your slick and he drawled What a way to go, huh? before diving back in.

“So good, Frankie, so good, right there-!” You grind your hips into his face, and his grip tightens on your thighs, thumbs digging into your soft flesh, hard enough to leave bruises over the recently-healed ones he’d already left, fitting his hands in the same spot as though there’s a permanent imprint of him on your skin… Like he’s dipped his hands into the surface of your structure while you were still being formed, when you’re pliable as clay and he’s shaped you, marked you as his…

He opens his eyes again, feels you getting closer, wants to watch as you cum on his tongue, wants to watch you all the time, when you’re smiling, when you’re happy and sad and angry and content, whenever you’ll let him. But especially in this moment… When your head falls back despite your attempts to watch him in return, when your body seizes and spasms, relaxes and tenses all at once, your neck bared and strained as your cries fill the air.

He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, wants to say he’s never seen anything better than you, lost in your own pleasure at his hand… mouth… But he can’t, not just yet.

The noises he makes as he laps at you, works you through your orgasm, brings you down slowly, are down right obscene, wet slurps, rough groans as you gush over his tongue…

He could live between your legs if you let him.

“Frankie…” you gasp, your palm slapping him in the forehead as you try to push him away, his enthusiasm a little too much for your sensitive folds. “Frankie…”

“Mmm,” he rests his head on your thigh, “You good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Fuck, Frankie, so good.”

He grins, “Let me know when you wanna go again.”

Taglist: @99sth @a-skov @amneris21 @apascalrascal @astroboots @darnitdraco @elegantduckturtle @fisforfulcrum @galacticgraffiti @goldielocks2004 @honestly-shite @idreamofboobear @irrelevantbutembarrassing @jitterbugs927 @kaybrownies @littlemisspascal @mypedrom @pedrostories @pentechnics @phrog-seeds @princessxkenobi @readsalot73 @salome-c @the-little-ewok @thedukeleto @tobealostwanderer @what-iwish-you-knew @wildmoonflower @yours-truly-r

[sugako]

practicum

supervisor!nanami x intern!reader sum: your internship is cruel and boring, but your primary supervisor and his lingering touches are enough to make you stay for the decadence collab by @sugawara-sweetheart cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, power dynamic (boss/intern), slight age gap implied, semi-public sex/office sex, Dom/sub themes, fingering, slight dumbification, cervix kisses, size kink, creampie, reader is in their 20s, inexperienced reader (sorta/idk its up to interp), reader wears a skirt/has a vagina but no gendered language used wc: 2.3k

You knew the moment you stepped into the stiff, grey office building that this wasn’t what you wanted to do, but you had to complete an internship and this had been the easiest place to get into. At first, you hadn’t been sure if it was worth the experience, or the long hours, or the complicated work that really should have been given to someone with twice the experience as you and probably another degree or two.

Truthfully, there wasn’t much keeping you there. You had the opportunity to find a new place within the first week, but you hadn’t. The little steel string that kept you clinging onto this awful, stuffy job was him. Nanami Kento.

Or, as you usually addressed him, Mr. Nanami. He was your primary supervisor after all. The moment you decided to stay was the moment you realized your little crush had gotten out of hand, not that it stopped you. It was impossible with all the sharp angles of his pretty face, the whisper of his baritone voice when he kindly corrected any mistakes in your work and the lingering touches of his fingers across your shoulders as he leaned in to assist you.

Despite his demeanor, you discovered he wasn’t too much older than yourself, at least within ten years of your own age, that had been the tipping point. Your crush quickly got out of hand. Most nights you spent thrashing around in bed imagining your own hands to be his as they left hot trails down your body, but it was never good enough.

For a while, you resigned yourself to lonely nights and soft brushes of skin, but then one day after he caught you in the middle of twisting your ankle up the steps to the office, it was as though a switch flipped.

Nanami had always found you attractive and he appreciated your work ethic, even if he was well aware this wasn’t a place where you would thrive. He knew he spent a little too long explaining certain things to you, letting his body graze yours whenever given the chance, but he felt you enjoyed it. The way your shoulders tensed and you let out a little shuddery gasp that you thought was silent, when your pretty thighs clenched together under whatever cute skirt or pants you had on that day, the light in your eyes that brightened whenever you looked into his eyes - it all made his heart race even if he kept a straight face.

Seeing you so helpless, if even for a short moment, and the delicious whimper you yelped out had broken his resolve. Sure, he was your boss, but not really since you didn’t permanently work here, he reasoned.

“Come to my office so I can check that everything is okay.” He said, taking your elbow into his hand. “It can be easy to fracture the bones in your ankle and foot, and those injuries shouldn't be taken lightly.”

“Uh, okay.” You stuttered back, heat rushing up to the tips of your ears at the subtle contact. It was early, very early, and there were only a handful of people sleepily milling around. Not enough to be a problem, he thought, silently locking the door behind the both of you.

A bit awkwardly, you situated yourself in the middle of the room, bending your knee to slightly lift your foot off the ground. The ache wasn’t terrible, it barely stung, but who were you to argue with a superior?

“Sit on my desk.” He instructed, shucking his suit jacket off and draping it over the back of the plush chair adjacent to the desk.

Nodding quickly, you scampered into place, perching on the edge with your feet dangling above the floor. The straight line of his mouth just barely quirked up as he sat before you. Your mind spun, unable to help but notice how his knees spread wide apart, and the tightness of his pants around his thighs and hips.

Some little part of his brain was telling him to stop, but his body kept moving, fingers rubbing up against your bare ankle. He had to hold back a low groan when he felt you shiver under his touch and your thighs twitch open just the slightest. Glancing up at you only confirmed what he already knew. The way your eyes drooped down, lips parted as you breathed in those cute, shallow breaths, holding yourself up so nicely for him.

Your breath hitched when he looked at you, his hands sliding at a painfully slow rate up from your ankle. They ghosted over your calves, so steady but so cautious, and all the while his eyes stayed anchored to yours.

“How does it look?” You finally breathed when he reached the backside of your knees. Clenching around nothing, but feeling so on the edge of what you longed for, you let your legs fall open just a bit more, knowing he could see your damp panties if he even flickered his eyes down.

When it took him a moment to respond, you worried you had crossed a line, but after a handful of long seconds, the gears in his head stopped turning when his eyes were cast downward. He didn’t make it to your ankle, vision stopping short when he registered how far your cute skirt had been pushed up and the way he could see the perfect outline of your dripping cunt imprinted against the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Very good, but…” Nanami trailed off, kneading your thighs higher and higher.

“But what?” You asked, voice coming out all breathy and needy. The way his touch sent sparks of electricity cascading down your spine was a sin. Hungry with need, the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitched, the cool air of the office breezing against you.

With curious eyes, you watched as he swallowed hard, his gaze flashing back up to you. “You have a different problem now.” Letting out a small sigh, he stands, caging you in with his arms and looming just centimeters away from your face. “I see how you look at me. How you dote on me, ask me for help even when you don’t need it, how your legs shake when I sit a little too close,” his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hip as though to make his point, “and now you’re making a mess on my desk and spreading your legs to show me. Do you really need your boss’ cock that badly?” The way he coos the last question fills your body with heat, but you struggle to look anywhere except directly at him.

“Y-yes, please, want you.” When you stutter out your answer, he squeezes his hips between your legs, the growing bulge in his pants pressing against your thigh.

“You’re very cute, but you act as if you have never been touched properly.” He whispers, letting his head fall against your shoulder, hands pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your hips, completely exposing you.

“They… uh, sorta, but not like,” you shudder out a gasp when his fingers tap against the soaked fabric, grinding your hips into his touch, “...not as good as you.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He moans, ignoring his own words as he pulls aside the flimsy fabric and spreads your slick around, circling your clit.

“But I-!” Your words get choked off when he eases a long finger into you, curling it against your spongey walls. “Want you to fuck me, please!” You whine, hips bucking into his hand while you chased release.

He presses a chaste kiss against the side of your neck before he gently pushes you down so your back is flush against the desk and he pulls your hips to the edge, holding your knees wide enough for him to fit. Barely lifting your head up, you watch him as he stands before you. With quick-moving hands, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out and palming it lightly before he leans over you again.

Faintly, you’re aware that you’re in his office, in the office building and if anyone were to walk in there would be a disaster for your work and academic life, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Especially not when Nanami’s heavy cock is resting against your cunt and he’s kissing down the column of your neck.

“Since you’ve never felt a real man, tell me if it’s too much,” he says hoarsely, pulling aside the fabric of your panties again before he lines himself up.

Blankly, you nod at his words, struggling to relax your body as the fat tip pushes past your tight entrance. It’s enough to make you flutter around him, an action he desperately tries to ignore. Your little cunt is gushing, sucking him in and clamping around him so tight he’s worried he might break you. The inside of your lip aches from biting them so harshly, waiting for him to slowly bottom out.

“Happy? You’ve wanted this for so long.” He breathes, looking down at where the two of you are connected and the pretty shine of your wetness under the lamps and early morning sunshine that filters through the window.

“Y-yes.” You answer unsteadily, wrapping your knees around his lower back, needing to feel him more, deeper, harder, anything.

“Usually such a smart person and now all you can say is yes and nod?” He pulls back, nearly slipping out with the way you’re creaming around him, and slams back into you.

“Uh-huh!” Comes your squeaked response, unable to answer properly. Slowly realizing what you said, you attempt to backtrack with a weak, “I mean-” before the words gurgle off into nothing when you feel him hit you deeper than anyone ever has.

The sound of skin slapping and the resounding squelches that fill the space cloud your thoughts up, and all you feel is him. Every movement he made was fast but evenly paced and purposeful and you wondered how he could fit so well against you without ever having known you intimately before. His hands burning against your skin, brushing against your stomach as they hold your hips in place, how he perfectly fills you out, and in the next moment how your chest fills with warmth when his thumb brushes against your aching clit.

“You want to cum?” His voice is far strained than it was when he began, his low breathy moans getting louder by the second.

“Please!” You cry, arms shaking as you held yourself back from grabbing onto him.

All he did was give you a sharp nod, but his fingers were suddenly focused, stroking you so exactly you found yourself at the brink of orgasm in short minutes encouraged on by the way he continued to steadily fuck into you.

“Good,” he whispered as he felt you flutter around him, sucking him in impossibly deeper. Those words were the final straw for you. Before you realized what was happening, you could hear yourself faintly crying out like a far-away echo, body jerking and trembling beneath him as he worked you through it, only taking his hand away when he knew you were spent.

“Such a perfect cunt.” You barely heard him, dazed in your own little world, only feeling now, mumbling out something about how you wanted him to cum inside of you.

He slowed, barely, but his steadiness remained, the only indication that he was close was his cock twitching against your still fluttering walls. Letting out a long, hissed groan he finally let himself go, shuddering against you as he came, filling you up even more from the inside. His body pressed into yours as he simply held you, listening closely to your whimpers and gasps.

As you slipped out of your own brain, coming back to reality, you moaned at the weight of him against you, wrapping your arms to rest around his shoulders. Your legs shook around him, barely staying looped around the back of his thighs now.

Gradually, he propped himself up, almost painfully pulling out of you. Although his cock was barely half hard now, the stretch pulled at you just as much as it did at the beginning. He quickly pulls out the neatly placed pocket square from the jacket draped behind him and cleans himself off while you lay there, still winded and trying to process what happened.

Waiting for you to say something or do anything, he drinks up the sight of your glistening cunt, his cum pooling between your legs as it slowly drips out. The small groan you let out as you sit up with unsteady motions gets his attention, prompting him to lean back over you and clean around your thighs, purposefully ignoring the mess between your legs. You watch his actions, dread creeping in as to what happens next, but all he does is adjust your panties back into place and help straighten out your skirt when you wobble off the desk.

Silently, he holds your hands as you regain your footing.

“Um, thank y-”

“Your internship ends next week, correct?” He cuts you off, taking his hands out of yours and rounding the desk to sit at his chair.

“Yes, it does.” It’s obvious he knows the answer, but you reply anyway. You swallow, clasping your hands together to keep them from shaking.

“Alright,” he says, scribbling something on the back of a business card, “feel free to call me after your last day.”

A little surprised, you take the card from him and hold it tight, a weight being lifted from your chest. With a little nod, you go to leave.

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes, sir?” You chirp. He takes a deep breath, wondering how it would sound if you called him that next time.

“This didn’t happen.”

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part two

<previous | next>

It had been a few days since your attack on the beach. Since then, Paul really didn't like when you were home alone. Or walking to work alone. Or anywhere alone really. It didn't have to be with him, but he needed to know he, or someone he trusted could get to you in time.

He was worried that the leech had caught your scent, and would come back. Sam didn't think so, Sam was under the impression that this person was actually testing their lines, and he wouldn't let the same mistake happen again. You were still waiting for Paul to tell you the whole truth, but you were being patient, as he had been with you. It was clear that whatever it was, was hard for him to say.

Your couch was permanently occupied by Paul, who picked you up from work to drive you home. And if he couldn't make it, he'd send one of the pack, or one of the imprints to pick you up and bring you to Emily's house.

You were cautiously optimistic about where things were going with Paul. There was still some trust issues, but you were working on it together. And no matter how much Embry or Jared talked about Paul's anger issues, you didn't really see it.

Currently, you were at Emily's, sitting on the couch and trying to stay awake until Paul got there. He made you feel safe.

"Have you seen this?" Emily asked holding a newspaper. There were missing people all over Seattle. It's what had Paul working overtime. He was pulling more than his fair share, and you knew that had to do with you. But you didn't understand what.

"Is anyone ever going to tell me what's going on?" you asked, but your tone was light, joking. Emily laughed, and sat by your legs on the couch.

"Paul really is taking his time, huh?" She gave you a sad smile. "He's doing that for your benefit."

"I know, I know," you said. "I'm just really confused. I swear the scenarios I'm making up in my head must be worse."

"Probably," she said. You both laughed this time.

"Well he better snap to it."

"I'm heading to bed," Emily said, patting your leg over the thin blanket. "You okay out here?"

"Yeah, thanks Em. Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight."

"Wake up honey."

Paul was gently shaking your arm. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, trying to wake you up as nicely as possible. Jared laughed in the background at how soft Paul was around you, but quickly said his goodbyes as he took the night patrol. It takes a tough guy to make fun of someone and then rush out the door. But Paul didn't care.

"Paul?" you asked, finally coming to. "What time is it?"

"Late, it's very late."

"Take me home," you said, holding your arms out to him.

"I like you when you're sleepy, you're very nice." Paul picked you up, and said a quick goodbye to Sam as you closed your eyes again. It made Sam smile.

Paul carried you to his pick up truck, and got you settled into the passenger seat. He even did up your seat belt. You woke up a little more, but your squirming and stretching was the cutest thing to him. He was so enamoured with you. He didn't really care how long it took until you trusted him. Or even if you never wanted to be with him, he didn't care. As long as he got to be around you, he would be fine.

"Let's watch a movie tonight," you said, yawning right after.

"I don't think you'll be able to stay awake," he said, smiling.

"Can we try?"

"How about we watch something tomorrow, after work?"

"Okay," you said, closing your eyes again. "Tomorrow."

You fell back asleep before you got home. Paul was driving slowly, and the cool air was filtering in through his open window. He was listening to some folk band, and the whole thing just lulled you to sleep.

When he parked the truck, he did everything he could to get you into your room without waking you up, and he was pretty successful. But as he was tucking you into bed, you woke up a little. He moved to leave but you grabbed his wrist.

"Goodnight Paul," you said, not letting go of his wrist.

"Goodnight honey," he said, daring to lean down and kiss your forehead. You made a happy sound as you rolled over, getting comfortable in bed.

Paul would've done anything in the world to crawl into bed with you and fall asleep. But he was happy just to be here.

So, Paul went back to the couch. And got as comfortable as he could, and fell asleep, reminding himself that you were safest when he was here. And that he was doing a good job protecting you.

The next morning went better than most mornings. You woke up in a good mood, and decided to make breakfast for Paul. He'd been working so hard to protect you, that he deserved at least a fraction of that devotion back.

You made the lot, pancakes and eggs. A small fruit salad and a plate of bacon. While the pot of coffee finished, Paul wandered into the kitchen stretching.

"Mmm," he groaned, "something smells good."

"I made you breakfast," you said, a smile on your face.

Paul was in love with you, that much he knew for sure. And today he got his first sign that maybe you were at least starting to fall for him too. It was a good day.

"Eat up," you said. "I have to work in a few hours."

"You're going to eat too, right?" he asked.

"Of course I am," you said, stopping before you left the room. You turned on the radio against the wall. It was some band you'd never heard of, but it was nice enough. Paul was already filling his plate, but you went to pour two coffees. "Cream, sugar?"

"Just black," he said, mouthful of food. "Just come sit."

"All right," you said. "But for the record I wanted the coffee."

You chose the chair beside him, instead of across from him, and he took note of that but didn't say anything. You smiled at him, and he smiled back, like he always did.

Breakfast was relatively quiet, you made small talk about what was going on that day, but mostly you just enjoyed the silence. It didn't feel awkward, it felt right. It felt comfortable. When you were done, Paul wasn't. So you carried your plate to the sink, and rubbed your hand across his back as you passed. His breath hitched slightly, and it made you smile, thinking about how different Paul was.

Maybe it was time you cut him a little slack.

When he finished, Paul helped you clean up. And even shooed you away to get ready for work while he did the dishes.

"Thank you," he said, as you walked back down the hallway. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth and dropped it back on the counter. He leaned back, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he is.

"Thank you for being here," you said, suddenly self conscience under his intent stare at you. You pulled your sweater sleeves over your hands, keeping the fabric pinched between your fingers.

"I uh, packed up the rest of the fruit salad. I thought you might like to have it at work." Paul had one of your Tupperware containers sitting on the counter.

"And the bacon?"

He looked guilty. "I ate it."

"It's okay!" you said, laughing at his face. "It was made to be eaten."

He drove you to work, and although you missed to walk, you knew you'd get back to it eventually. When he dropped you off, you hesitated to leave. Paul sat patiently, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

"I want the truth tonight," you said.

"Honey..."

"Just, think about it from my perspective. I have no idea what it is I should be scared of, I have no idea where you work or why you're gone all the time. I'm worried about you, and I'm scared."

"I'm scared too." Paul took a deep breath. "I'm scared that something will happen to you. But mostly I'm scared that if you know the truth you'll be scared of me."

"I wouldn't."

"You don't know that," he said, he looked terrified. "You hated me earlier this month. Couldn't even look at me throughout high school and I am so embarrassed about that. And it's going to be even more embarrassing when I tell you everything because then you'll know that we didn't make eye contact from two years attending the same school."

"I'm sure we made eye contact," you said.

"No." He looked at you, and you could see the pain in his eyes. "We didn't." The look on his face made you hurt. It made your heart deflate, and you would've done anything to see him smile again.

You unclicked your seat belt, but didn't move as it sprang back into place. It didn't feel right to leave the air like this.

The heat he gave off seemed to float right into your space, and there was something about his presence that made you feel more settled than you had in a long time. You wanted to touch him, so you leaned across the middle seat, and placed a tender kiss against his cheek.

"Just think about it," you said, sliding back towards the door and starting to get out. You didn't want to leave him feeling sad, but you had to get to work.

"Have a good shift," he said, watching you leave. He hated watching you walk away.

"You too."

Work had been horrible. Your boss was kind of a jerk, and waiting tables had really lost it's appeal. You'd been serving tables in La Push's best diner, but when the new owners took over, it quickly began to lose it's charm. You wanted to buy it when they were selling, but coming right out of high school you didn't have that kind of cash.

You just felt kind of miserable, so when you saw Jared and Kim waiting for you outside, you just felt annoyed. You were under the impression you and Paul had made plans.

"Hey," Kim said, smiling from the passenger seat. You got in behind Jared. "Don't worry. Paul said another hour, tops."

"Can you guys just take me home? I had a long day and I just want to relax," you asked, pulling your upper body between Jared and Kim's seats.

"I don't know, Y/N," Jared said, making a worried face. "I don't think Paul would like that."

"C'mon Jared," you said. "I'll lock the doors, and I'll call you if I get nervous."

"Jared, she wants to go home." Kim smiled at you. You really liked her.

He rolled his eyes and started the car. "When he freaks out on me, I'm throwing you both under the bus."

"He won't get mad at us," you said, "he said himself. An hour tops."

Jared and Kim were actually really great travel companions. Kim always made sure you were included in conversation, and Jared was not afraid to sing at the top of his lungs which was hilarious. They really cheered you up.

And of course, they waited until you were in your house to pull away.

Inside, you were tired, and cold. And you had wanted to spend some time with Paul. But he said an hour, and you figured we wouldn't lie about that. It wasn't too late that you couldn't give him some of the patience that he had given you.

So you spent the time bringing out some blankets, and pillows. When that was done you made some popcorn and fresh lemonade.

Paul should've been there any second. So you just spent some time tidying up the place. You saw some fabric poking out from under on the blankets, and you yanked on it, pulling out one of Paul's shirts. You laughed. Because it seemed rare to even see him in a shirt.

You pulled your shirt over your head, and put on his instead. Your shorts were hidden by his baggy shirt, even baggier on your small frame.

Twigs snapped outside the window, and you gasped. You knew you locked the door, but decided on checking the windows too. Just so you could say that you did. They were all locked. When you walked back into the living room, Paul was standing there - jaw clenched tight just like his fists were. But you could see the restraint. You could tell he was actively calming himself. You took a step closer.

"Don't," he said, voice cracking. He closed his eyes, hating the way you stop dead in your tracks. He didn't want to scare you. "I told you that I didn't want you here alone for a reason."

"I was so tired after work," you explained. "I wanted to sit on the couch and watch a movie like normal people do."

"I am trying to make things as normal as possible for you," he said, the anger was already washed away, but it wasn't gone. Not entirely. "You just have to trust me."

"How can I trust you when you don't trust me?" you said, voice starting to raise with unavoidable frustration.

"You think that I don't trust you?"

"I'm not allowed to be by myself, how else would you like me to interpret that?" You felt tears brimming at your eyes, the confrontation bringing out your anxiety.

"If we're going to fight, I need you to take three steps back."

"For what?"

"Your safety."

"What does that mean?" you shouted. "Are you scared you'll hit me?"

"I would never hit you," he shouted back. "How could you even think that?"

"I don't want to argue," you said, quietly. "I'm sorry I shouted."

He saw the sad look in your eyes, and could've kicked himself for driving you to this. He nodded, prying his eyes away from your sad ones to look anywhere else. He looked at your shirt, for the first time, and even though he was angry with you, he loved the sight. It calmed him down knowing it was you, in his shirt, a couple feet away.

He held his hand out, palm up for you to take. You did, and he guided you, as if you were dancing - not fighting, to the couch. You sat beside him, and he kept your hand in his.

"I need you to really listen to me," he said, his eyes glossing over with the realization that if he loses you, he'd never be whole again. "For now, I need you to follow all my rules. Even when they seem excessive, or dumb. And in return I will explain everything. And I won't keep any secrets from you."

"I can do that," you said. "If you're always honest with me, I'll be honest with you."

"Okay, tomorrow I'll explain everything. You're off, right?"

"Yeah," you said, shuffling over so you could lean your head against Paul's shoulder. "Can we watch our movie now?"

He put an arm around you, and you fit to him. Like you were always meant to be there. Well, technically, you were.

"Yeah, honey. We can watch a movie now."

[if you want to be added to a taglist for this story then let me know :-)]

[angelicyoongie]

Out of the Woods (II)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, slight smut — word count: 5.5K — warnings: injury, blood, mentions of past abuse — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

You stare at the hand wrapped tightly around yours as the wolf hybrid leads you down the rest of the slope. You can still feel the imprint of his chest against your back, the lingering heat from his body still wrapped around yours. The ghost of his raspy, smooth voice brushing over your ear, his words branded into your chest.

Please don’t leave me.

You wince with each step, the dull pain in your ankle growing harder to ignore. You can see the muscles in his golden arms tense as your step falters, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening before you can stumble down the last stretch of the incline. He’s keeping your hand almost at height with his shoulders, making it easier for you to borrow some support as you hobble forward.

You keep yourself focused on his hand, on how his long and slender fingers are enveloping yours. They’re a little rough against your skin, but they’re still pretty. Your cheeks are flushed red as you limp forward, but you blame that on the near death experience you just had – and certainly not on the hybrid’s thumb absentmindedly running over your knuckles every few steps. And it’s definitely not because the man in front of you is completely naked. The close proximity means that the expanse of the hybrid’s broad back fills most of your vision, but you’re not willing to take any chances. His body isn’t there for you to ogle at. So, his hand is a good, safe, place for you eyes to latch on to. The hybrid clearly doesn’t have any qualms about his lack of clothes, and it makes you wonder just how long he’s been out here on his own – how long he’s been alone.

You swallow thickly as the ground underneath your feet begins to flatten out, the strain on your ankle becoming a little less painful. You can probably walk on your own now, but it doesn’t seem like the wolf hybrid has any plans of letting you do that, his fingers wrapping even more firmly around yours as you try to let go of his hand. You see a few faint marks on the inside of his wrist, but the angle his hold your hand makes it too difficult to make anything out. If anything, it’s likely just some scratches from the wilderness. You can’t help but notice that one of his gray ears seem to be permanently turned in your direction, only twitching when you let out little huffs of air.

He hasn’t spoken since he uttered those four words – not since he begged you to stay, and the only thing you could think to do was shakily step out of his embrace and ask him to bring you back down. You can’t stay. You're not quite sure why the realization makes you feel so torn. Sure, the hybrid has taken care of you, but you don’t really know him. Hell, you don’t even know his name. But still, your heart stutters painfully as you remember the desperation in his voice, the subdued whine that escaped his lips as you pulled away. The hybrid had only given you a curt nod in response to your request, his back turned to you and hand outstretched before you could even get a good look on his face.

You sneak a quick peek at his profile as he helps you along the path, your breath getting caught in your throat as you catch a glimpse of his strong jaw and oh no, is that a dimple? The wolf hybrid’s silver ears and messy hair compliments his sunkissed skin beautifully, and there is no doubt in your mind that this man must be stunning. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gotten a good look at his face yet, getting weak in the knees sounds like bad plan when you’re already one foot down. You quickly push the thoughts away, turning your attention back to the forest in front of you. You swear something about it looks a little more familiar than before. You only need to hobble through the forest for another few minutes before you realize why.

The wolf hybrid has lead you straight to the lake you and Jihyo passed two days ago, the exact one you were trying to find when you managed to get lost. The weather might be slightly gloomier today, but it still looks absolutely breathtaking as you draw closer. The tension in your shoulders ease up as you realize just how close you are to the cabin, it probably won’t take much longer than an hour to get back even with your throbbing foot. Which is great, but the release of tension also makes you acutely aware of just how irritated your ankle truly is, and it feels like it might break clean off if you don’t get a break soon.

“Can we, uh, rest for a little while? My foot ..” You trail off uncertainly, watching as the hybrid’s head cocks in your direction. He stops in his tracks, ears swivelling around rapidly as he listens to the forest, his grip still tight around yours. He gives you another nod after a few seconds of silence, steering you carefully over to a fallen log. You close your eyes in relief as you sit down, a groan falling from your lips as you finally get the chance to alleviate the pressure on your ankle.

“Thank you,” You murmur, glancing down at your foot as you try to best position to rest it in. You freeze as you see the wolf hybrid’s bare feet out of the corner of your eye, heat creeping up your neck as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in. You’re at eye-level with his dick. There’s no way to look up at him without seeing it, and that’s not something you want to deal with right now.

“Here," You hastily shrug off your windbreaker, offering it out for the hybrid with a grimace, “you can use it to cover up.” Rough fingers brush over your own as the wolf hybrid grabs your jacket, presumably–hopefully–wrapping it around his waist as you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You don’t dare lift your gaze until the hybrid sinks down on the log next to you with a huff, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you find his eyes already locked onto your face. 

The wolf hybrid is beautiful. Your lips part open in surprise as you take in his face, the slight pout to his lips and the gentleness in his expression leaving you a little breathless. He looks kind. Sweet. You don’t understand how someone like him could be left out here all alone.

“I-I'm sorry,” The wolf hybrid cowers under your stunned gaze, his ears falling flat against his head. “Should I stay .. wolf? You upset,” His voice is hoarse and pained as he stutters out his words, his lips forming awkwardly around the syllables. The intention behind his words hits you like a slap to the face. He thinks you don’t like his human form, and he’s willing to turn back to not make you upset.

“No!” You blurt, “I mean, I’m uh, not upset. If you want to, please stay in your human form. It’s nice to be able to talk to you.” The wolf hybrid doesn’t quite seem to believe you, his ears pressing even flatter against his head as he shakes his head.

“What’s your name?” 

The hybrid's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and for a second you think he might not answer, but then he mutters out a soft, “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon?” You echo, finding you like the way his name rolls off your tongue. The wolf hybrid’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, the bushy tail behind his back doing a startled wag as Namjoon’s eyes find yours. You give him a soft smile, rubbing your hands nervously at your thighs as you finally ask the question that has been burning away at your curiosity for the past few hours.

“Why are you out here all alone?” The muscles in Namjoon's shoulders tense at your question, the warmth in his golden brown eyes hardening into something you can’t quite decipher. The wolf hybrid looks ready to bolt any second, his eyes flickering around the forest as he says, “Ran way .. bad place. No going back.”

You detest that you’re not even surprised, that the mistreatment of hybrids is so common that it has become almost more normal than treating them like actual human beings. The wolf hybrid looks to be your age, maybe even a little older, and it makes your stomach drop to think about just how many years he must’ve spent out here in his animal form for speech to become this hard – for it to become a struggle.

“I’m so sorry Namjoon, it must’ve been hard being all alone up here,” Your fingers twitch against your thigh, resisting the urge to reach out for him.

“Not alone now, have you,” Namjoon’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine, the certainty laced with his next word making your heart skip a beat. “Pack.” The wolf hybrid carefully reaches out for your hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as he watches your mind trying to process his words.

You know it normally takes a long time for a hybrid to consider someone, especially humans, to be a part of their pack, so the fact that Namjoon refers to you as his after only a few days leaves you stunned – and a little bit out of your depth. Then again, Namjoon’s situation isn’t exactly normal. Usually hybrids are much more in-tune with both their human and animal side, but from what you can gather, it doesn’t seem like Namjoon has tapped into his humanity in years. It would make sense for his animal instincts to be more dominant, for doubt and hesitation to take a backseat. But still, his pack?

You catch the slight motion as the wolf hybrid’s eyes stray to your neck, the memory hitting you at full force now that you realize the implications behind your actions. In the midst of your panic when you thought Namjoon was going to tear you limb from limb, you had bared you neck. You had submitted. And Namjoon had accepted you. You wince, sucking in a deep breath as unease swirls in your stomach. Even if you weren’t aware of what you were doing at the time, this is still your fault. You really want to fix this whole mess, but you fear that the one thing you can’t do for him, is the only thing the hybrid wants.

“Namjoon,” You hesitate as you feel his tail wag happily against the log, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you say, “I can’t stay.” A lull falls over the forest as the rhythmic thumping stops, the grip around your hand slackening as the wolf hybrid hangs his head.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he whispers out a broken, “Don’t go.” You feel your heart ache as you watch him open and close his mouth, the furrow between his brows deepening as he can’t seem to find the words he needs. “Take care of you. Please.” You think it might hurt less if you just let the wolf hybrid rip you to shreds instead, the pained desperation in his voice making you eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter, “I need to go home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Home. At the start of your trip you couldn’t wait to return to your apartment, but when you really think about it, have you ever truly considered it home? Sure, you've managed to make it nice and cozy over the last years, but there’s no warmth there, no sense of belonging. Still – you can’t stay here in the mountains.

Namjoon’s ears are pressed flat against his head, his expression turning blank as he withdraws his hand. “Okay,” The wolf hybrid’s jaw is tense as he stares out at the lake, his gaze empty and distant. You ignore the throbbing in your foot as you clamber back up to your feet, taking a few steps forward as you take in the sight of the lake for the last time. The scattered wildflowers don’t seem as charming anymore, and the large body of water suddenly feels more imposing than welcoming. You freeze as Namjoon lets out a low groan, the sound suddenly transforming into a whimper behind your back. You nearly jolt out of your skin as something wet touches your hand, a warm breath spilling across your fingers as you look down. You meet Namjoon’s golden eyes, the wolf letting out a small huff before he nudges your windbreaker closer to your feet. You don’t know why it feels like a defeat that he transformed back, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling in your chest as you thread your fingers into his fur, jacket wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to the cabin.

The wolf’s ears starts to flicker a few minutes before you can pick up Jihyo’s frantic speech in the distance, the dark roof of the cabin coming into view. You’re a little off the trail, the forest much denser around this side of the clearing. Namjoon suddenly halts as he reaches the edge, and you wince from the extra force on your foot as you stumble to catch yourself. The wolf’s tail is tucked between his legs, a pitiful whimper filling the silence as you gently untangle your hand from his fur. You brush it down carefully, already missing the coarse yet soft hairs tickling against your skin as you take a step back.

“Thank you Namjoon,” You swallow around the lump in your throat, forcing your lips into a soft smile as you gaze down at him. The wolf turns his head back to the forest, golden eyes scanning the area before he quickly pushes his head against your hand, guiding your palm over the fur between his ears. Your knees go weak with fondness as you pat his head, the wolf swiping his tongue over the exposed skin of your wrist as you scratch behind his ears. It’s Namjoon that reluctantly pulls away first, his golden eyes soft yet sad as he pushes his snout one last time against your palm. He sits down with a huff, turning his head in the direction of the cabin. The message is clear; he’s not leaving until you are. The goodbye grows and dies in your mouth, your lips refusing to let it slip past as you look down at him. You spare him one last glance, trying to commit as much of him to memory as you can, before you stumble out of the tree line.

It only takes a few steps before you hear Jihyo’s shrill, “Y/n!” and you watch as your friend sprints across the field to meet you. Jihyo knocks into you so hard you nearly topple over, her arms wrapped around your body so tightly you almost fear she’ll squeeze you to death.

“Where were you? What happened? Oh my god, you’re hurt!–” You let Jihyo’s concerned rambling distract you from the empty feeling in your stomach, each step feeling heavier than the last as she helps you walk back to the cabin. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to maybe see a flash of silver through the trees, but there’s nothing.

Namjoon is gone.

And you’re both alone again.

It was all a rush after you returned. Jihyo had been searching for you night and day, a few of her father’s best employees helping out. The road up to the cabin had been cleared, so instead of having to trek down on your sprained ankle, Jihyo had whisked you away in a car with the destination set for the closest hospital. It took a while before you could collect your thoughts enough to tell her what happened, the words sounding ridiculous even to your own ears as you retold the story.

Jihyo had a deep frown on her face from the hospital to your apartment, uncharacteristically silent as she helped you to your couch. Sinking down on the mountain of plush pillows felt like heaven after sleeping on the ground for two nights, your limbs tired and aching. You really need a shower, but the temptation to rest your foot for an hour is frankly too strong. You watch as Jihyo raids your fridge for drinks and food, the frown not leaving her lips until you’ve stuffed your face with a sandwich.

“Why didn’t you just ask him to come with you?” You nearly choke on a piece of bread at her sudden question, quickly taking a sip of water to chase it down.

“What do you mean?” You croak.

“Well, it’s not like he specifically asked you to stay up in the mountains right? He only asked that you would stay with him. I’m not sure how much I like this, but he did take care of you, and he brought you back safely. If he wanted to hurt you he had many opportunities to do so,” Jihyo purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room. 

"You seem .. smitten. I can remember the last time you looked so fond talking about someone else. It seems like he already considers you to be his pack, so if you want to, I don’t see any harm in asking him to come home with you,” You feel a steady blush rise in your cheeks as Jihyo talks, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of having Namjoon here in your apartment. You couldn’t ..

"It’s not natural or healthy for hybrids to be alone and shifted for such a long time, so you would honestly be doing him a favour. Even if he doesn’t stay with you, he needs to get checked-up.” You find yourself nodding along to Jihyo’s words before you can stop yourself, her eyebrows rising in amusement. She is right, after all. Even if Namjoon doesn’t want to stay, it’s important to make sure he’s healthy. Even you go in for yearly check-ups, and you’re sure it’s been far too long since Namjoon did the same. You have to go back and find him.

“But–” Jihyo presses a finger to your chest, “you’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said full rest for a week, so that’s what you’re going to do.” She shakes her head before you can protest, giving you a stern look as she says, “You’re in no condition to go after him now, you need to heal up if you want to find him again. I’ve seen enough animal planet to know that wolves have pretty big territories, and you won’t be able to cover that much ground with a sprained ankle.” You sink back down in the couch with a disgruntled sound, hating the fact that she’s completely right. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed. You just hope it won’t be too late.

“Namjoon?” You wince at the rawness in your throat, your voice ringing through the silent forest. You’ve been out here for hours, but no matter where you go, there’s no sign of the wolf hybrid. You even managed to get back to the little cave Namjoon had brought you to, but that too was completely untouched. The only trail you had is dead. The area you’ve ventured into is much denser and harder to navigate, but you refuse to leave until you find him.

You grumble under your breath as a branch almost whacks you straight in the face, and you push it away with a little more force than necessary as you trek on deeper into the woods. Your ankle has healed up nicely, but there’s still a dull ache from the amount of walking you’re putting yourself through. The sprain wasn’t all that bad; it was mostly just the fact that you kept aggravating it that made it so painful. A week of rest did you wonders, and a little bit of discomfort is a price you’re more than willing to pay if it means you’ll find Namjoon again.

“Namjoon?” You call out again, halting in your tracks as you strain to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh at the silence that greets you, shaking your head lightly as you take a step forward. You freeze as your foot connect with the ground, a distant howl echoing through the forest. Namjoon.

You can barely even hear the second howl over the frantic beat of your own heart as you take off, stumbling and tripping over roots and twigs as you run in what you hope is the right direction. The mountain is disorienting at best, but you have no fear of getting lost this time. Jihyo made sure you would be properly prepared. 

It’s not until the fourth howl that you realize two things – one, the sound is much closer than you anticipated, and two, it sounds pained. You urge your legs to move faster, your gaze shifting wildly over your surroundings as you call out for him again. You swear you see a flash of silver behind a cluster of trees, and you quickly switch your direction, running straight for what you hope is the wolf hybrid.

“Namjo–” You choke as you skid to a stop, your stomach dropping so fast it leaves you feeling dizzy.

Blood. There’s so much blood. Namjoon’s gray fur is stained with it, the hairs matted and red. You can see the rusted metal of an old bear trap clamped tightly around one of his hind legs, the bone snapped in an awkward angle. Oh god. A pained whine rips you out of your building panic, and the sight of the wolf hybrid attempting to drag himself closer to you despite the trap on his leg finally jolts you back into action.

“No no no, stay still!” You cry as you scramble forward, your stomach doing a dangerous flip as the metallic scent of Namjoon’s blood washes over you. The wolf hybrid is panting as you drop to your knees in front of him, his ears plastered against his skull as he lets out low whimper.

“It-it’s going to be okay,” You hear your voice tremble as you reach out for his head, gently cupping his cheeks between your hands. Namjoon lets the tension in his neck drop the moment you get your hands on him, his head heavy in your hold as you run your fingers over his fur. The wolf hybrid’s body is shaking, his golden eyes barely open as he lets out another whine. You have no idea how many hours he’s been like this, but it’s been too long. He's lost way too much blood.

“You’re going to be fine Namjoon,” You swallow down the bile in your throat as you shuffle around, shifting your hold to gently place his head in your lap. He immediately tries to shuffle closer, not giving up until he’s plastered against your stomach.

“Just, don’t shift, okay? Please don’t shift,” You hastily dig your burrowed phone out of your pocket, vision blurry as you type in Jihyo’s number. Seeing Namjoon’s human form might make it easier to gauge his injuries, but if he shifts while he’s still trapped, you have no doubt it’s just going to tear his leg up even more. 

He lets out a whine as you hands leave his fur, his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the pain. The leg that’s trapped doesn’t even twitch, and Namjoon’s body feels horribly cold as you hurry to run your hands over his fur.

“Y/n? Did you find him?” Jihyo’s voice has never sounded more angelic than when she picks up the phone, you body sagging with relief.

“You can track my location, right? It’s Namjoon–” You force down the sob bubbling in your throat as the wolf hybrid whimpers at the sound of his name, the sound soft and weak. “–he’s hurt.”

“Excuse me,” You whip your head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, a rather frazzled nurse standing in front you. “Are you here with the wolf hybrid? Kim Namjoon?”

“I am. Is something wrong?” You push out of the plastic chair with a wince, ignoring the queasy feeling in your stomach. It’s been hours since you arrived at the hospital, but the image of Namjoon’s blood pooling around his body doesn’t seem to want to let go of you just yet.

“He’s–" The nurse let out a deep sigh, “I think you need to come with me.” She turns on her heel, motioning for you to follow without another word. Oh god, what if he’s dead? The wolf hybrid had been rushed into an emergency operation immediately upon arrival, so there wasn’t much else that you could do than wait. Hope that he would be okay. 

You hurry after the nurse, nearly tripping over your own feet at quick speed she keeps as she marches down the hall. You’ve barely managed to catch up when she halts outside a door, an exasperated expression on her face as she says, “We’re keeping him under observation for now and he’s not really supposed to have any visitors yet, but he’s being … difficult.” You jump as something clatters to the ground inside the room, the deep growl hardly even muffled by the closed door.

“He’s a still a little out of it, but not dangerous. You’ll see what I mean,” With that, the nurse pushes the door open, stepping aside to allow you entry into Namjoon’s room. You suck in a breath as you step inside, the floor littered with scattered papers and trays. Namjoon is perched up in bed, a heavy cast around his leg. Whatever they were trying to do, the wolf hybrid obviously wasn’t having it. He’s twisted towards the doctor by his side, the man keeping a good distance from the injured hybrid as he let out another harsh growl. You stare in shock as Namjoon bares his teeth, his posture rigid and tense as he eyes the doctor distrustfully. The doctor notices you before Namjoon does, a soft 'thank god' muttered under his breath as he waves for you to come closer.

“Hey Namjoon,” The wolf hybrids nose wrinkles just as your soft voice carries across the room, his ears springing up on his head as he shifts his attention to you.

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes light up as he catches sight of you, his hands practically tearing up the bed sheets as he tries to untangle himself. The action feels awfully familiar to when he tried to drag himself closer despite the bear trap, and you have no intention of watching him trying to walk on his broken leg.

“I thought I told you to stop moving,” You rush forward before he can get himself fully out of bed, pushing him back with a firm shove to his chest. Namjoon falls back without protest, his wide eyes scanning over your face as a loopy smile blooms on his lips.

“Sorry,” He rasps as he engulfs your hand with his, keeping it tucked securely against his body. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your palm, beating in rhythm with the soft beeps from the monitor he’s hooked up to.

“We were trying to explain to Mr. Kim that we need to do some tests, but he doesn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment,” The doctor glances back towards the door as a the nurse brings in a new tray of equipment, a weary frown on his face as he picks up a shot. The growl builds in Namjoon’s throat so fast you nearly jump out of your skin, the hold he has around your hand feels like he’s two seconds away from snapping it in half.

“It’s okay, it’s just some standard shots,” You hesitantly bring your hand up to his face, slowly turning his head back in your direction.

“You haven’t had check-ups in a while right?” The wolf hybrid shakes his head, his ears twitching as his attention flickers back and fourth between you and the doctor. “It’s just to make sure you stay healthy.” Namjoon nuzzles against your hand with a soft whimper as you run your thumb along his cheek.

“Makes me feel .. bad. Sleepy,” Namjoon’s speech seems to flow a little easier than it did a week ago, but the struggle to find the right words is still there, his brows furrowing in concentration as he whispers, "Don’t like it.”

You swallow thickly, your stomach in knots as you ask, “Did your owner give you those? The shots that made you sleepy?” The wolf hybrid makes a low sound of agreement, his ears turning back. The marks on his wrist you couldn’t figure out, they’re needle marks. You’ve heard of it before, how some owners would drug their more exotic hybrids to keep them calm and docile – to silence the part of their genetics that make them so unique. You glance down at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid staring up at you with so much vulnerability and trust that the thought of someone taking advantage of that it makes you feel ill.

“These won’t make you feel that way, I promise.” You muster up the warmest smile you can manage as you peek over at the doctor, a silent plea in your eyes.

“Oh! Don’t worry Mr. Kim, there are no side effects to these shots. You’ll hardly even notice it,” The doctor quickly adds as he takes a careful step forward. Namjoon lets out a slow breath, golden eyes finding yours and his tail draping across his lap as he grumbles out a hesitant “Okay.”

“–All done!” You can see the doctor’s shoulders visibly drop as he finally gets the chance to move back, obviously relieved to put some distance between himself and Namjoon. “I’ll be back later to check on your leg and make sure everything is okay.” The sour expression on Namjoon’s face softens as the doctor hurries out the door, the grip around your hand loosening slightly as it clicks shut behind him.

“May I speak with you outside alone for a minute, miss?” You look up at the nurse as she finishes placing a band-aid on Namjoon’s arm, the empty shots rolling around in the tray as she picks it up.

“Oh, sure,” Namjoon lets out a whine as you try to step away, lips formed into a soft pout as you gently extract your hand from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you follow the nurse out, shooting Namjoon what you hope is a comforting smile over your shoulder. The wolf hybrid keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, his distressed gaze still burning into your back as you close the door behind you. You only take a few steps down the hall before the nurse turns to face you, her expression troubled as she looks you up and down, “I take it he’s not your hybrid?”

“No, he’s not,” You quickly shake your head. “I came across him up in the mountains. He said he ran away from his old owner, and that it was a ‘bad place’. I’m pretty sure it must’ve been a couple of years at least,” You wince. The nurse nods, her gaze shifting around the busy hallway as she thinks.

“I’ll have someone look into it. We need to settle his hospital bills, and only his legal owner can do that.” She must see the way your face drops, because she quickly adds, “I could tell from his old scars that he’s likely been abused. Even if we find his owner, they’re not going to be allowed to take him home. It’ll be looked into.”

“Right, thanks.” You muster up a weak smile. You know how these things go. Even if there’s an investigation, the police are too easy to buy off. There are frankly too many cases like Namjoon’s, and too few cops that actually treat their abuse seriously.

“Can I stay with him until his owner shows up?”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but yes, you can. I don’t think he’ll actually stay inside his room if you don’t.” The nurse lets out a huff, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she waves for you to go back inside. “I’ll let you know once we figure it out, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

Turning to face Namjoon’s door, you try to shake off the anxious feeling festering in your stomach. You’re not going to let him go back to his old owner. You’re honestly not even sure how you’ve managed to grow attached so quickly, but there’s just something about the wolf hybrid that makes you ready to fight tooth and nail for his safety and happiness – even if it means he won’t find it with you.

a/n: ahah heyy ... let's just ignore that it took me two months to update this, okay? thank you aksjsk. i decided to split the last part into two, to give myself more time to write a little bit of extra fluff (and smut)! so the third and final part is hopefully coming next week, but if not, it will at least be posted by the end of november. namjoon's speech will get better in the next part and we will learn more about him + his and y/n's relationship will grow! if you like the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! (ps. this story has no tag list!)

as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

[kythed]

what love tastes like

terushima yuuji x reader

synopsis: in which you learn that falling in love tastes like monster

--

“Taste,” he says. He holds the cold rim of a freshly opened can to your lips, and first it’s metallic, salty, but then it’s sweet. 

You take a sip. 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never tried Monster before?” he asks, taking a drink himself. The two of you are sitting on a park bench across the street from a gas station. He licks his lips-- the silver ball embedded in his tongue winks at you, a shallow token of youthful rebellion that somehow seems more significant on him. 

“Never. I’m more of a Dr. Pepper girl.” You reach for the can again, letting the saccharine liquid sloshing inside coat your tongue. It’s really too much for me, you think. But of course, you won’t tell him that. 

“Not anymore,” he says, and he slips a firm hand around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and daring you to look away with a wicked grin-- it’s attractive, to say the least. “Now you’re my girl.” 

You’ve barely parted your lips to respond before his mouth is on yours, tongue halfway down your throat, and you’re whimpering into the kiss as he snakes a hand down your back and presses your body to his. The whole ordeal tastes like Monster and feels far more energizing than the packaging promises. 

Within your first day of meeting him, Terushima Yuuji has already claimed you as his own. 

And you’re okay with it.

--

He’s about as healthy for you as the Monster is-- which is to say, not at all. 

In your next couple months of dating him, this becomes apparent. He takes you to the edge of the woods at twilight and lights your first cigarette, laughing as you take a draw and end up coughing. Plucking it from your fingers, he holds the cig high as smoke curls into the hazy sky and eventually melds with the faintly orange cumuli. “Guess it’ll take a little practice before you can smoke with the big dogs, huh?”

You flush and snatch it back, determined to prove your aptitude for defiance. By the end of the night, you can blow smoke rings-- he applauds, and for some odd reason your heart swells at his lazy grin. 

(The next kiss tastes like tobacco and novelty.)

He shows you each of his tattoos, some of which peek out from underneath his clothes, some of which aren’t exactly visible to the onlooker’s eye. There’s a tendril of ivy climbing down his forearm, a flock of wild cranes taking flight from his left shoulder. A dark silhouette is on his chest, kneeling low to who knows what. You trace the image of an unlit candle on the back of his neck, asking what it means-- for a millisecond, his mouth tightens into an expressionless line, but then he laughs. “Why, you want one too? Let’s go to the parlor then.” 

When you decline, he takes a permanent marker from his bedside table and prints a small label on your inner wrist. ‘Mine’ it says, accompanied by an oddly appropriate smiley face. “Then this will have to do.”

(This kiss tastes like ink and enigma.) 

He brings you to a decrepit manor on the outskirts of town-- legend has it a young, newly wealthy couple purchased it twenty years ago, unaware its foundations rested on a centuries old cemetery. The spiteful spirits drove them to the brink of madness. The sort of madness that could only be alleviated by the resounding finality of death. 

“They were found hanging from their bedsheets in the west wing,” Yuuji whispers to you, his breath tickling your ear. An unwanted tremor runs from your head to your high-tops. You don’t believe in ghosts, so it must be because you’re cold. (At least, that’s what you tell yourself.) “I want that kind of love.” 

You turn, surprised to see his expression remains entirely serious. “The kind where you die for one another?”

“The kind where you die with one another,” he corrects, wistfully gazing into the dingy bay windows protruding from the manor’s anterior. 

You remain silent. 

“Life is just an accumulation of bad decisions, and love is just an accumulation of bad decisions you make with another person,” he muses, still peering at the grandeur of the lonely estate. He turns to you, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Wanna make a bad decision with me?” 

The next hour is spent in the modest company of Yuuji, a couple of baseball bats, and the empty halls of a long dead house. There’s no one to witness the two of you shattering each dusty antique vase save for the portraits on the wall. Soon, their frames, too, receive a violent visit from a vindictive bat, usually accompanied by Yuuji’s unadulterated glee and a resounding whoop. 

You’re not a fan of destruction. Especially not the destruction of rare, precious items reminiscent of a life bygone. Yet, it’s exhilarating to indulge in it, to swing your bat with a meaningless vengeance and watch as whatever priceless heirloom that evoked your baseless wrath fractures into pieces. You demolish a set of fine china found in the dining room cabinet and Yuuji gathers you into his arms, kissing you fiercely (it tastes like some sort of perverse, seductive joy, rosewater mixed with ashes). He chuckles into your mouth when you push your tongue into his, retribution for your first kiss many weeks ago. It’s deliciously gratifying. 

If Yuuji is right, and love is just a mosaic of bad decisions and desire-- maybe you’re okay with that. Maybe this is all I really need, you think, watching Yuuji from the corner of your eye on the drive home. Yellow street lights cast irregular shadows on his angular features, lending him an otherworldly sort of beauty. 

“What is it?” he asks, without taking his eyes off the road. One of his hands inches up your inner thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before retreating to the responsibility of the steering wheel. 

You hesitate, just for a second. An unseen force constricts around your throat; you banish it with a hard swallow. “I love you.” 

One second passes. Then two. 

He says nothing the rest of the ride home, and you sit in mortified silence, watching traffic blur by with glassy eyes. You must’ve misread this whole thing. You’re just a fling Yuuji plans on discarding whenever he grows tired… your mouth goes dry with regret. 

When you pull up in front of your house, he walks you to your front door. You can hardly stand to look him in the eye. 

“Well, thanks for today,” you say, examining your shoelaces with false interest. “I had a lot of--”

“I love you, too.” 

Startled, you look up. “I- what?” 

“I said,” he says, stepping close, putting a hand beneath your chin to tilt it upwards. Your body is eclipsed by his larger one, and you’re overwhelmed with the sudden urge to hide from his penetrating gaze. “I love you, too.” 

A beat of silence.

“Oh,” you breathe, and, suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you fervently— but this time, it’s chaste, it’s… loving (and it tastes like honeyed laughter). Only for a second though.

Then his hands are on your waist, fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises; he’s aflame with a hotblooded passion-- your body is his Holy Grail and your mouth is its rim. He leads you into the hallway, fumbling to close the door behind him. You gasp when he pushes you up against the wall and harshly sucks at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, your nails digging into his back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, painting your neck with a line of ardent kisses, trailing from right below your ear to right above your collarbone. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

--

There’s something a little too tender in the way he caresses your face the next morning to wake you after he’s slipped his clothes back on, in the way he smiles softly at your bleary eyed confusion, in the way he holds you in his embrace a fraction of a second longer than you hold him in yours before saying goodbye. 

Terushima Yuuji may play the part of a reckless delinquent, but he’s not your average troublemaker. There’s something inscrutable behind his gaze, even as he sprays obscene graffiti on stop signs and shoplifts alcohol from the neighborhood drugstore, a walking cliche of hoodlum culture. 

There’s something a little too careful about the boy who claims to be careless. 

Yuuji is still fun, of course. He takes immense pride in being fun. He invites you to one of his friends’ gigs, some sort of grunge-esque affair with a heavily pulsating bass line and a preponderance of cheap liquor in red plastic cups. The drummer winks at you during one of the songs-- later Yuuji slugs him in the jaw, taking a few hits in the process, and makes a show of kissing you sloppily while the poor drummer nurses his rapidly forming bruise with a pack of frozen peas. (The kiss, of course, tastes like blood and pride.) 

He teaches you how to use a switchblade-- “Just in case,” he says, wrapping his hand around yours in an effort to show you the proper grip. In exactly what situation you’d be forced to use a switchblade remains unclear, but when you ask he just laughs and shrugs, spinning the knife in between his slender fingers. “You never know.”

(He tells you a story of a fist fight years ago and lifts his shirt to point out a pale, faded scar-- the other guy brought a knife concealed in his sleeve. You then agree it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.)

The two of you trespass on the regular, scaling fences and picking locks to dip your feet in private pools, to run barefoot on the soft grass of a golf course late at night, to explore taped off tunnels and underpasses. 

All of it is fun, all of it depicts your relationship as something accidental, something reckless, the convergence of two beings as coincidental as the convergence of the two cells that provoked the Big Bang. 

But your intimate moments, the faintest imprints in between the lines, tell a different story. One onlookers don’t see. 

They don’t see how Yuuji places a hand on the small of your back to guide you over a crosswalk, or how he pours a coffee and carefully blows on it before bringing it to you. They don’t see how he laughs when you laugh and smiles when you smile. 

They don’t hear what he whispers to you under the sheets-- sweet nothings that would make Cupid himself blush-- as he touches you slowly, purposefully, following your curves deliberately as a sculptor molding clay. 

They don’t feel his kisses, delicately placed on your lips, your neck, your stomach and thighs. They don’t feel his eyelashes fluttering on your cheek as he allows himself to rest with you in his most vulnerable state. 

It’s during these moments that deep secrets are so shyly exchanged in the sleepy haze of late nights and early mornings. He bares his soul to you in all its imperfection (you suspect you are the only one to have ever seen it in this state). He shatters himself bit by bit like the vases you splintered so long ago, offering you the fragments so you can gradually piece together the entire portrait. 

“You know how I told you my dad taught me how to fight?” he asks one of these times. Your head is in his lap as he strokes your hair ever-so-lightly. You nod, looking up into those sweet brown eyes-- they look sad today. “That’s only half true. He didn’t teach me, but I had to learn because of him.” 

You take his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, humming softly, and he takes this small act of comfort and stores it away like he always does. 

I’m sorry. 

“I’m scared of trying to be someone different than I am now, but I want to be. I wish I could be.”

You can. 

“I’m sorry for getting you into so much trouble these days.”

Don’t be.

“I think we should run away, just you and me. We could make it, you know.”

I know. 

Of course, all good things come to an end. You know that. 

You just aren’t anticipating something so good to end so soon-- as suddenly as Terushima Yuuji becomes yours, he disappears. 

One morning, he’s sleeping in the bed next to you, and the next he’s gone without a trace. Literally. He leaves behind no extra t-shirts, no stray sock or phone charger, no note. You pad down the hall, ducking your head into each room.

“Yuuji?” you call. “Is this some sort of joke?”

It’s not. 

You call his phone and reach his voicemail. Hey, this is Terushima. Not available right now, probably busy doing somethin’ stupid or taking a piss. Leave a message if you want. 

The sound of his voice grows more and more painful to hear over the next six months. At first, you call every day, then every week, then every month. At month six, you’ve stopped calling at all. If he wanted to answer, he would. You don’t even know why you’ve kept it up so long when he obviously left for a reason. 

So, you pick up the pieces of your broken heart and cobble them together again. It’s not a graceful recovery, but it’s a recovery, and that’s what matters. The gaping hole he left is gradually filled by your family, your friends-- you don’t go on a single date, but that’s okay. (You’re just not ready. You tell yourself that you will be, someday.)  

Soon, you’re whole again. As you discover, there are ways to find yourself other than falling dangerously in love with a dangerous boy. 

You run into him one day, eight or so months after his disappearance. You’re filling your car at a gas station, and at the park across the street, he’s sitting next to a girl you don’t recognize. She laughs at all his jokes and sips a can of Monster he offers her. As if he can feel your stare, Yuuji glances over and catches your eye. He jogs across the street, dodging traffic, and you two exchange tentative pleasantries before the conversation comes to an uneasy rest on the taboo-- why he left.

It wasn’t because of you, it turns out. At least, not really. You were just the catalyst.

“I was the problem,” Yuuji says, laughing, though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You remember how I once told you I thought love was making your bad decisions with someone by your side?”

You nod, and the wound has scabbed over enough for you to remember it lightly, with a slight curve of the lips.

“You showed me that wasn’t true.” He tugs on the collar of his t-shirt absentmindedly, not quite meeting your gaze. “I started wanting to make good decisions instead. And that just wasn’t me. Love isn’t for me.”

“It could’ve been,” you say simply. He stares at you, momentarily unable to form a response. Then he laughs it off, a sound you used to adore that now sounds harsh and grating. 

“Maybe someday,” he says, but his expression tells you otherwise. It tells you how scared he is of ever being that person.

The thing about love is that it gives you something to lose. It gives you a reason to make good decisions. It gives you something to fear for. 

As he turns to leave, Yuuji freezes in his tracks. He throws a look over his shoulder. “Just for the record-- it hurt. Leaving. I did love you.” 

You smile. It’s a genuine smile, but it’s sad, too. “I know.” 

And the thing about fear is that some people can’t bear it well enough to let themselves love someone. 

You watch his retreating back for a brief moment before climbing into your car. It’s not until you’re halfway home that you realize you’re crying. Tears roll down your cheeks into your lap, staining your jeans. 

You hope he comes to love that new girl, the one he’s sharing a Monster with. You hope she loves him back with all her heart. You hope she spends hours and hours picking through his pieces and reassembling him from the bottom up. You hope she comes to find that his kisses taste like tobacco and novelty, like ink and enigma, like rosewater and ashes and joy. You hope that, to her, those kisses never taste like regret. 

You hope that this time, he’s scared. But not so scared he can’t let himself stay.

[eventid1ngs]

[ D a y d r e a m . ]

.

.

.

I stand at attention, my left hand resting upon my right that is perched atop the pommel of the Master Sword, with the semblance that I’m ready for anything and everything that might come this way. Nothing will disturb the princess as she prays at the Goddess Spring. That is my mission.

Not far behind me, I hear a bit of rustling as Zelda slips off her sandals. She takes her time entering the water, each step into the clear spring slow and deliberate.

I know that she is anxious. I know that she feels like a failure.

I know that she is afraid.

The sounds of gently moving water and Zelda’s hushed voice make my head swim, making me remember, for whatever reasons, each time that the princess’ hand touched my hand or arm and every moment that her gaze met mine. Within castle walls, on lonely roads out in the field, late at night… under the stars... in the dark…..

Letting out a sigh, I close my eyes and focus on any other sounds around me. The rustling of the leaves and tree branches above me. Songbirds happily chirping what will be their final performances of the season. The late summer breeze wafts about, flaunting its broken promises; its own song of lingering memory and uncertain futures.

I let out another sigh as I wipe my mind blank.

After a few minutes, I hear the water stir behind me as Zelda steps out of the water. I sheathe my sword before turning to reach for the towel that I had slung over a low tree branch. Approaching the princess, I make a small gesture for her to sit down on a nearby rock. She does. Her eyes are downcast and her expression vulnerable, revealing her utter disappointment. Part of me, deep within the recesses of my soul, wants to curse the goddess for refusing to answer, but I do not.

Part of me, deep within the recesses of my soul, wants to tell Zelda that I love her and that everything will be alright and that it all will somehow work out in the end, but I do not.

She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t, either. I crouch down and dry her feet.

Reaching for her shoes, I hold her clean, dry right foot in my hand for a moment before slipping the sandal on. I do the same for her left foot.

“Thank you, Link.” she says, finally breaking the silence between us. There is so much emotion in her voice. Behind the honest gratitude of her words I hear things that others do not, or maybe just pretend that they do not. I hear the relentless fear that throbs like a festering wound within her. I hear the tenderness of a girl who possesses the sweet compassion of a mother but veils it with bold character so as to not appear "weak." I hear her heart, crying out; reaching out, desperately, for someone–anyone–to provide even an ounce of comfort amongst the chaos.

My hands linger on her legs for far longer than necessary and my heart is beating so hard in my chest that it threatens to cause my stomach to promptly expel whatever I had eaten for lunch not an hour ago.

I want to comfort her.

I want to–

“Link.” she says, and I look up to meet her eyes. The ocean green of her irises shimmer in the sunlight as the inevitable tears come to surface. She opens her lips to say something else, but the words refuse to follow. I reach up without thinking and wipe her cheek with my thumb. My finger barely touches her skin. A quiet sort of half-sob escapes her lips that are still parted.

I take her hands in mine and we both stand. I search her face for answers to questions that I do not even know how to ask. She needs something… I can see it in the concerned arc of her brows, the flutter of her lashes, and the way her breaths keep catching ever so slightly as they come and go.

What is it? What can I give that will stop her from hurting, even if just for a brief moment?

Shoving aside the doubts that are clouding my judgment, I put my arms around the princess and press her to my chest. She sobs quietly as I crush her to me in vain attempt to convince her with my embrace that I will not let go until she feels that she is ready to face the world again.

My lips brush against her temple, not entirely by accident, and the sudden contact makes her pull back a little. Something new makes an appearance in her expression, mingling with the sorrow. It is something like surprise, something like curiosity. Something like excitement. Though I can’t be sure, I lean towards her. My heart skips a beat when I realize that she makes no effort to hesitate. My mouth pauses a mere centimeter from hers as we share the same breath. With an inhale she moves forward so our upper lips touch; so quick and feather-light that it’s almost like it didn’t happen. She does this two more times as if confirming it. I angle my head slightly so that the next time she leaned in, our lips touched properly. It was almost a real kiss, but she pulled back just before the point of no return.

“Link…” Zelda whispers. If she says my name like that again, I feel like I would have to be relieved of my duties as a royal guard because there is no way I would ever be able to concentrate again with that permanently imprinted upon my mind. I dare not look at her face to see the blush that has risen in her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. So I keep my eyes shut.

I want to run away. I want to run far, far away, with her hand in mine. With her by my side. Two kids, too young and too dumb to fight this war.

Just sad kids, going somewhere.

Getting lost.

My hands move up her back and over her shoulders and down her arms, hovering just a breadth away from her skin. The ghost caresses were enough, however, to raise goosebumps across every inch of her flesh that is either exposed by or hidden from my view under her white dress. Skin so rosy, so smooth, without blemish… The skin of the princess who carries the goddess’ blood within her veins, and it trembles and responds to me.

Her eyes flutter closed and mine do, too. Maybe if we keep our eyes closed, we can pretend that it didn’t happen. Maybe if we never open our eyes again, we won’t have to wake up.

Our lips crash into each other.

There is no sound but our breaths that come quickly before being stolen away again. There is no feeling but a steadily growing warmth as inhibitions are stripped away and skin touches skin. The setting sun melts into eventide. There is nothing but us; she, the Princess of Hyrule and I, her appointed knight. Even the moon and stars that hang in splendor from the heavens above dare not disturb us.

A sob catches in my throat as the edges of my darkened vision go blurry with the tears that are rapidly rising. My heart constricts painfully at the sudden, terrible idea that I have become caught up in a silly dream. The possibility that this isn’t real. It couldn’t be. It never would be.

The realization hits me, knocking the air from my lungs, like a behemoth.

Just a silly dream.

All the things you didn’t say.

All of the things that you didn’t do.

Every chance that slipped from your grasp.

Do you wonder what we could have had?

Do you realize that you and I… could have…..

I feel myself start to panic, and I’m too exhausted to fight it. Don’t leave me.

Please.

A wave of pale blue flower petals rushes past my line of sight like an angel answering a prayer, but it never materializes; only disappears with what remains of my fleeting daydream.

I realize, gradually, while the scene that I had just experienced wasn’t real, the pain in my chest very much was. I look down, choking on my own sobs, at the arrows that are lodged into the center of my breastbone. Every inhale causes me to wince at the sharp pain that shoots up and down my body due to the movement.

What do I do?

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Please come back to me.

"I'll find you."  I say, out loud, with a voice that sounds out of place. "...Wait for me."

...Zelda.

I get up.

.

.

.

.

.

Playlist:

“Daydream” by Super Junior

“2 Kids” & “Sad Kids” by Taemin

“Find You” by Monsta X

(Zelink shippers, don’t look up these songs with the English translations unless you, like myself, have an inordinate desire for pain.)

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

[mae-gi-writes]

Jealous | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Your mission is to get your boyfriend jealous. What better way to do this by fawning over Stray Kids?

Genre: slight nfsw? Idk its kinda hot? And female reader insert.

A/N: inspired by my convos with @seraplantery and @chaoticdeobi Kevin would be about me thirsting over Chan. Also idk what I wrote im sorry TT > TT

-----

Jealousy had never been in Kevin Moon’s vocabulary. And you were damn certain it would never be.

That doesn’t mean you never try pushing his buttons every time you can, though.

“How can he be so hot?” You mutter to yourself, loud enough that it reaches your boyfriend’s ears. It’s a late lazy Sunday afternoon and you two are taking this time to unwind and relax, mentally preparing for the full week of work ahead. While Kevin is busy doodling across his sketchbook like he normally is, you take this time to catch up on the multiple kpop performances you’d missed earlier this year. 

And boy, have you missed out.

“Oh my god,” your lips go round as your eyes widen as big as saucers, gaze permanently fixed on the screen giving way to eight hot men dominating the stage with their fiery charisma and strong choreography, “Oh my-- holy shit I think I fell pregnant.” 

Kevin’s voice permeates through the hot summer air, “What you watching?” 

“Stray Kids,” you say absentmindedly as your eyes follow one particular member’s every moves. While you had fallen out of touch with the kpop world -- and you blame this on the concept of having a job and actually now going through adult life like anyone should be -- that doesn’t mean that you don’t get your phases, especially with one of your favourite groups you’ve been following since their debut.

“Stray Kids?”

“Yeah, jesus christ Kev-- Chan’s arms are to die for.” 

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been so vocal about admiring other men if it’s not for your silent experiment of whether Kevin Moon will finally bite at the bait jiggling before his face. He’d be an idiot not to. 

But considering he is never even aware when other men look at you, you doubt that this time is going to be different. So you continue on:

“He’s not even my type of guy you know? I usually go for the tall skinny ones but somehow--he’s just so charismatic onstage. And did I tell you he’s Australian? I mean I’m not fond of Aussie accents but I don’t know I find it really sexy on him--”

“Woah Y/N, look at you. Talking as if you don’t have a boyfriend,” sarcasm drips from Kevin’s alto, causing your head to slowly turn with surprise, an eyebrow arching slowly at the way he seems hunched and rigid over his blank piece of paper, pen held so tightly in his grip it might snap in two.

“Kevin,” you draw out slowly as you try to hide your grin, “is that...jealousy I hear?” 

He scoffs, “I don’t get jealous."

"Sure could've proved me wrong."

Reverting your attention back to the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Bang Chan's smile, you sighed in bliss, "his abs, though."

There is silence from Kevin's part, causing your lips to tilt into a small smirk of victory as you click on the next video that follows. You know him all too well that you assume he will probably sulk for the next hour that follows, and you're content with that, considering that you're not at fault.

You're too engrossed in your video that you barely realize that a shadow hangs behind your shoulder, before an arm shoots out to close your laptop.

You whip around with a scowl, "hey! What--"

But no sooner are you protesting that you feel Kevin's arms haul you up, turning so quickly you can barely register anything but the soft mattress welcoming your figure as you are plopped onto it, Kevin's frame hovering over yours. His face is all but amused.

Laughter bubbles up your throat, "what the --"

It cuts off into a gasp upon feeling his arms hooking around the back of your thighs to pull you closer, lips mere inches above yours and dark orbs gazing down at you with a thunderous depth. It halts any further comment you are about to make, takes your breath away.

Something warm coils within your stomach.

You are a little breathless when you say, "y-yes?"

"You want me to be jealous?" His lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing down at you while fingers ghost over your thighs, his touch igniting a series of sparks in his wake, "I'll show you jealous."

And then he's kissing you. Hard mouth on yours, intense. Demanding.

That's not the Kevin you know but somehow desire pools through you. He's never been this...aggressive.

He is holding your frame against his, fingers so firm and pressing on the back of your thighs before slowly slipping up to cup your ass. You gasp in response, hands automatically lifting to grab his shoulders only for his to grab them instead and pin them down by your face. His head tilts, lips moving to your rhythm and dominating your tongue the moment you gasp into his mouth.

The softest grunts rumbles up his throat when your hips buck up on instinct. He murmurs against your mouth, "not so chatty now, are we?"

"I--"

And then his mouth is latching onto your jaw, peppering a trail of warm kisses that makes your heart beat twice as hard, your body writhing with the delicious sensation of wanting him. He devours your neck, growling with satisfaction when he urges your fingers down onto the mattress to stop any attempts of escape. That's hot.

You're practically seeing stars at this point, the sounds of his soft suckling evocating a sensation of heat deep within your belly that your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord to pull him closer. And the moment his firm length presses onto your heat, he lets out a moan that has you trembling.

"If I knew how you'd react--" you stop to moan softly as he grinds his hips into yours. Lord, "I would've done it more often."

"What, that's your kink?" His breath ghosts over your skin at your collarbone now. You struggle against him wanting nothing more than to run your hands through his glossy raven locks and to scratch your nails down his back. But his fingers squeeze firmly nibbling at the skin of your shoulder, "you like seeing me jealous?"

"Hm, I won't say the contrary," you breathe out.

Ensuring that one of his hands cage your wrists together, his other slips down to trace your neck, the dip of your breasts, ghosting over your side before trickling down the inner side of your thigh. You take a shaky inhale. Waiting.

He's looking at you now, gauging every reaction that you gift him with like you're a fascination he can't quite make out and the intensity makes you squirm.

Slowly, oh so slowly that it makes your toes curl, Kevin starts a slow, sensual path of kisses down the middle of your chest and air gets stuck in your throat the more you watch him, practically holding back a whimper with every searing touch he imprints upon your skin.

He kisses down your navel, nipping and biting as he does while his heated breaths send waves of heat up your spine. At some point he releases your hands to grasp your waist and they instantly tangle in his hair, emitting a grunt from the said man.

He continues his sensual search using his mouth, hot breath fanning against your skin down the sides of your thighs, landing on final peck to your knee, before rearing back up to hover above your pelvis and finally tilting his face up to yours.

And that makes your breath catch in your throat. For in Kevin's eyes you read the dark desire, the craving he holds for you, the longing.

Your heart jolts to a stop. You swear you stop breathing as your gazes lock.

A beat passes. You swallow hard. Suddenly vulnerable under his hooded stare.

Then, before your brain can scramble for coherence, the raven-haired man leans over. He presses a kiss.

Right on your sex.

A sound between a mewl and a whimper escapes your lips.

You gape at him. He smirks back, thoroughly satisfied.

Slowly, he hoists up until his lips hover yours once more and at this point, you're pretty sure you're dead. What with the speed of your heart rate practically vaulting out of your chest.

"Well," he murmurs while one of his hands keep tracing up and down your side, "I guess I can leave you to ogle at your kpop boys--"

His words are interrupted by you shooting out to grab his t-shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. And oh, does he kiss back like a starved man, grunting and growling as your fingers tangle up in his locks to pull him even closer as your teeth sink upon his bottom lip. He gasps.

You pull away slowly then --merely coming up for air -- and gaze into his dark, bottomless orbs, "the only one I'm gonna ogle tonight is you."

His breath halts for a minute. He stares at you, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

And then, a crooked grin spreads across his face.

"I like the sound of that."

[edda-grenade]

Sleep.

Adaar and Solas attempt fadewalking for the first time.

#feral verse, 2000 words. on AO3.

They were lying on a hilltop in the forest, on a fur to keep the cold of fall at bay. Well, Adaar was lying down—Solas had sat up to give her a curious look.

“You wish to leave?”

“No! I mean, yes, kinda—maybe—I don’t know.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“You seem very happy, here,” he said, in that slow, careful way he had.

“I am! I am. I don’t want to leave my family, or this place, or you—”

“Me?” His voice cracked, just a little. Adaar glanced at him from between her fingers.

“Yes, obviously. I know you like to pretend you’re some lone wolf apart from all living creatures or whatever, but you’re my friend, alright? You’re not getting out of that so easily.”

“I don’t—pretend…” He sighed, his skin staining with blush, the faint freckles even fainter. His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile, until he gave up and his mouth crooked. Adaar loved it when that happened. She was pretty good at making it happen, too.

“You do not wish to leave, but?”

Now she sighed and clamped her hand over her eyes again. It was easier in the dark, unwatched.

“The world is so big and so full of things I don’t know,” she said softly, “and I want to learn everything.”

“Adaar…”

She hadn’t figured out if she loved that yet—the way he said her name sometimes, how he looked at her. Like she was the sun coming over the horizon, or a thunderstorm in the distance, or the wind dancing through the fields so hard it sang. At least that’s what she imagined the expression would look like on her face—an expression that was meant for immense and somewhat unfathomable things, not for a single person.

“There is a way I could show those things to you. Not all of them, of course—but more than what is accessible to you right now.”

Adaar sat up so quickly her head spun a little.

“I’m listening.”

He explained, and her head continued to spin, although for different reasons. Lucid dreaming, delving into the Fade like into a cave, how the deeper you went the older the memories imprinted upon the Fade would be…

It sounded ludicrous. Like magic, if she had never heard of it before. It sounded amazing.

“Can we just do that?” she asked. “Right now?”

Solas gave her another weird look; his eyes wide and searching for a brief moment.

“I—yes. Come with me.”

They left the little barren hilltop that poked above the forest behind and instead descended into the small cave Solas had chosen as his resting place. She’d tried often to convince him to join her family at the settlement, but he’d steadfastly refused every time. It didn’t bother her as much anymore—the cave looked more and more like an actual home these days, with a fire pit and cooking tools, shelves he’d carved out of the rock to hold utensils using a spell she hadn’t quite figured out yet herself, and a warm, dry place to sleep.

Solas had a ball of light bobbing in the air above his shoulder, and gazed down at the bedstead. It was cozy: a pallet of hay covered in cowhide, with a blanket and fur to keep warm in winter. It was also not nearly big enough for both of them. At least not if they intended not to share breathing space.

“There’s a bigger bed at home, you know,” Adaar said. “Actual walls and a door, too.”

“I would prefer to try it here. I have set the requisite wards quite often, and I’m familiar with the peculiarities of the Fade in this place.”

She shrugged, glancing around at the runes and sigils he had marked into the walls of the cave. “Yeah, makes sense. I’m just saying, you can get familiar with the farm, too. There’s space for you, it’s not a problem.”

“I’m aware, since you keep reminding me so diligently.”

“It keeps being true.”

She smiled a little at how that statement made his ears dip and his head turn away so she wouldn’t see his face. He cleared his throat.

“I have never… attempted to teach this to anyone else.”

“Because you didn’t want to, or because there was no one you could teach it to?” She hesitated, thinking of his arguments with Lavellan's Keeper. “Or because no one wanted to learn it?”

He let out a low breath. “All of the above,” he replied quietly, “at one point or another.”

Adaar slapped her hands together to resist the urge to hug him, then clapped her palms briefly onto his shoulders because not touching him at all was even more frustrating than being shrugged off. “First time for everything. How do we start?”

Solas showed her how to set the wards—they’d talked about spellwork like it before, but mostly in abstract terms. It took a good while, because she kept stumbling over new questions, like how specific a ward could be, how permanent, how big a space it could cover… They were halfway into designing one that might be used to keep beetles out of the grain, until they managed to get back to the task at hand.

She settled on the bedstead with crossed legs while Solas puttered about by the fire pit and brewed a concoction he insisted wasn’t tea to help them fall asleep. Then she got up again and started pacing, as much as was possible, because her legs were too jittery to sit still. She was just glad most of the cave was high enough that she didn’t have to stoop—she halted, gazing at the stone close above her.

“Solas, did you shape the ceiling, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“The rock here has a different texture.” She reached up to touch it and closed her eyes, searching for that low echo of past magic—and found it. “And it’s been worked with magic.”

“…A little. It is not your fault you are so tall.”

A smile bit into her cheeks. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

“It was a practical consideration,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound like he was actually put out. “You insert yourself into others’ spaces inevitably, it was only a matter of time until you would find your way into this one.”

“That almost sounds like a criticism.”

“An observation. Foremost.” He handed a steaming cup of the not-tea to her, then sipped from his own. She breathed in the smell—chamomile, juniper, and something spicy she didn’t recognize—then exhaled a bit of frost across it to cool it down before taking a sip.

Solas was watching her when she looked up from the cup.

“Something wrong?”

“No, it is simply… nice, to see how certain magic has become easier for you.”

“The frost? Yeah, I barely have to think about it anymore.” She blew a puff of snow into his face to demonstrate. Solas startled, grimacing, and wiped the rapidly-melting crystals from his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Adaar said, very earnestly. “Couldn’t resist.”

He shook his head and grumbled something in Elvish, but he was smiling again. That small, helpless, trying-not-to smile. They finished their cups, put them aside, and regarded the bedstead again.

“I shall take the fur, next to the pallet,” said Solas.

“I thought the point was to fall asleep more easily? And to sleep more deeply?”

“Yes.”

“Then why make it harder on yourself? We just gotta… scrunch up a little, it’s gonna be fine.”

There was a long silence.

“I am not used to sleeping among other people,” Solas said finally, his tone even. He wasn’t used to other people—flesh-and-blood people, that was—in general, Adaar suspected, but she kept it to herself. Right now was probably a bad time to bring that one up.

“Alright, no spooning then,” she said instead and sat down and stretched out along one side of the bedding. Then she remembered she had to get rid of her shoes, untied them, and hucked them against an empty wall. Lying down, the scent of lavender became obvious amid the hay and fur; sprigs had been stuck to the corners to keep bugs away. She’d told him about that trick months ago.

It really was cozy; warm and inviting. She curled onto her side, drawing her feet up, and patted the mattress next to her. Slowly, Solas joined her, folding himself up so he took up even less space than usual. It was still a tight fit, especially since he tried to avoid any real contact beyond the brush of fabric.

“I will attempt to find you once we are dreaming,” he said. “With our current physical proximity it should be an easier task.”

“There’s really nothing else to it? We just fall asleep?”

“It is… difficult to put into words. Question your dreams, if you can. The key is to become aware—awareness begets agency, which in turn begets control.”

Adaar tugged the fur and blanket up to cover them. “Alright. Sleep well?” There was a flash of a smile on Solas’s face before he closed his eyes.

“I shall see you soon.”

It was not soon. Adaar’s mind refused to quiet, anticipation thrumming in her limbs. She kept shifting, unable to relax, and she worried she’d spend the entire night sleepless, when she finally woke up again to a dark, quiet cave. 

She must have fallen asleep at some point, then? So was this the Fade? It didn’t feel different. She was sleepy and bleary-eyed just as she would be when waking up in the middle of the night, and a cursory examination of the cave with a bit of conjured light—a spell that behaved no differently than any previous time she’d used it—told her it looked exactly as it had when they had bedded down. Except…

Solas lay tucked against her front, his body warm, his breathing even. His temple rested against her collarbones and his folded legs leaned against her hips. He was curled up as he’d been before, but now it seemed less about making himself smaller, and more about fitting into the curve of her body.

Adaar stared into the darkness. That was… unexpected. Solas didn’t seek out physical contact. Sure, he usually melted into it for one or two seconds when it was offered before pulling away, but nothing like this.

Cautiously, she tried to brace herself on her elbow to get a better look, both at the cave and at him. She bit down on a sharp inhale when pins and needles erupted in the limb, breathing through it with care until the sensation passed. But even on a thorough second look, nothing changed. The cave was still the cave, nothing remotely immaterial about it, and Solas still slept soundly, curled up against her.

Part of her wanted to wake him up. Let him know it hadn’t worked, at least not yet, and try to figure out what might be changed, because merely the thought of consciously walking in the Fade was enough to make her heart beat faster.

But he looked so much younger in his sleep. His features softened and relaxed, like he might actually be at peace. Adaar wasn’t sure she had ever managed to catch him this unguarded. When they were together, it felt like he hardly stopped watching her.

She let out a small sigh and settled back down, gently wrapping one arm around his waist. Hopefully that wouldn’t upset him, if he woke up before her come morning. Right now at least, a soft, sleepy noise slipped from him, and he rolled even more thoroughly into her embrace.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Literally anything from that prompt list with Bo would send me over lol.... but specifically 26, 24 and 48 together 💀💀💀

-the-slasher-flies 🔪💕

I also got, "You look real pretty when you cry,” for Bo so I’m going to combine all these into one, filthy fic. I went off the rails with this one. Please thank my husband for all the beautiful ammunition for this story ;)

~~

Territorial

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Dubcon, violence, blood, minor character death, heavy degradation, slapping, daddy kink, biting, marking, spanking, belt, hair pulling, choking, spitting, possessiveness, creampie

~~

             The second the laugh leaves your mouth, you know you’re fucked.

             Bo had asked you to meet one of the travelers at the gas station, to keep them busy while he delt with the others. The guy who sauntered through the door had proven to be funny, charming, and handsome; a horrible combination when Bo’s ego was added to the equation. Shamelessly, he flirted, and you couldn’t help but smile at the attention.

             Then…. Then he’d made a joke the second Bo had strolled into the shop and you couldn’t stop the surprised giggle that bubbled up your throat. The color drains from your face when you spot the blue mechanic’s suit out of the corner of your eye. Bo knows when you’re faking a laugh and this wasn’t one of those times.  

             He fixes you to the spot with that furious stare you’ve come to know so well, so intimately. You bite your lip, apologizing with your eyes, but he’s having none of it. The young man catches sight of your terrified face, turns to you, asks you if you’re okay. He reaches for your arm, maybe to give you a comforting squeeze. He doesn’t see Bo stalking up behind him.

             Steel sinks into the man’s neck so easily you would think his skin is made of butter. Thick crimson wells up around the blade, pours down his chest, spills from his lips, parted with shock. His eyes go wide and he drops to his knees, clutching fruitlessly at the lethal wound. You slap your hands over your eyes, turning away, but Bo clicks his tongue in disapproval.

             “Uh uh, baby girl, yer gonna watch,” he growls, wrenching your hands away from your face, spinning you around, holding you by the jaw, and forcing you to look as the life drains from the man’s sweet, hazel eyes. Cigarette scented breath wafts across your face as Bo whispers in your ear, “Yer gonna watch what ya’ done, yeah? This is all you, baby.”  

             The man chokes on his own blood, coughs, splutters, then lands face down with a soft thud that hangs heavy in the air. Crimson pools around him as he finally falls still. You can’t breathe, your chest heaving, but refusing to pull in oxygen. You’ve never seen anyone die before.

             Bo shoves you up against the counter, forces your eyes to his, cruel smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You try to apologize, stumbling over your words, anything to save you from what comes next.

             “B-Bo—

             “Shut up, slut. I don’t remember askin,’ huh? You were gonna let that little prick fuck ya’, looked like.”

             “N-No! I wouldn’t—

             “Oh, no? Ya’ wouldn’t? Does this stupid little whore actually remember who owns her?”

             “Bo, please—

             You gasp when he delivers a stinging slap to your cheek, hard enough to leave your skin angry and red in its wake. He growls, low and dangerous, “Maybe if I punish ya’, it’ll help ya’ remember who ya’ belong to next time.”

             He doesn’t wait for a response, instead gripping you around the waist and tossing you over his shoulder. Bo heads toward those dreaded basement steps. You haven’t been down there again since your first days in Ambrose. You’d hoped to never see it again.

             Bo kicks the door open, drops you unceremoniously on the filthy mattress. The sent of blood, fear, and Bo’s musk billows up around you as you shrink back against the wall, memories of how you’d met brought to the surface by the metallic reek clinging to the walls.

             “Do not fuckin’ move,” he orders, pointing a finger at your face. Without a backward glance, he strides across the room. Your eyes dart to the open door, but you squash down the desire to flee. He will catch you. He always does.

             A noisy clatter draws your gaze back to the other end of the room. Bo turns, another knife clutched in his palm. He chuckles, relishing in your dread when you visibly tremble. Crossing the room, he kneels at the edge of the bed and beckons you over with a wave of the blade. Obediently, you crawl to him, sitting back on your heels and awaiting further instruction.

             “That’s a good girl fer not runnin’. Kinda dumb though, I mean, I gave you an openin’.” He laughs, drags the chilly point of the blade down your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, pressing it lightly to the exact place he’d buried the other knife into the man upstairs. He hums quietly, strokes your other cheek with his bloody fingers.

             “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.” You shiver at his whispered words, moisture pooling between your thighs despite the terror gripping your throat. Your heart beats frantically against your ribs, pleading at you to fight, to flee, something, but you remain seated on your knees as is expected of you.  

             Bo uses the knife to saw through your shirt. When you’re bared to him, he wraps an arm around your waist and leans down to sink his teeth into the soft flesh under your collarbone. You wince, suck in air through your teeth, whimper when he sucks a deep purple mark into your skin. He grunts, does it again under your jaw, drags his tongue across your tender flesh until you moan.

             “Ohh,” he coos in response, viciously biting your shoulder and making you hiss, “Does that slutty little cunt get wet when I hurt ya’, baby girl?”

             “Yes, daddy,” you whisper, choking on a gasp when Bo shoves your face into the disgusting mattress.

             “Ass up, whore,” he orders, cutting into your shorts and underwear enough so he can rip them off your hips. “Jesus Christ, look at that,” he murmurs as he drags the flat of the cool blade along the lips of your dripping pussy. You clench your eyes shut, icy fear surging through your veins. Oh god, oh god, please don’t….

             “Look, fuckin’ look,” he growls, fisting a hand in your hair so he can wrench your head off the bed and shove the glistening steel in front of your face, “Look at how fuckin’ wet y’are. Just achin’ for any cock to fill that whore cunt, huh?” As well as you can with how hard he grips your hair, you furiously shake your head.

             “No? No, yer not a filthy slut?” You shake your head again, wondering if you dare speak.

             You risk it, “Yours,” you whimper, gritting your teeth when he shoves the knife closer to your lips.

             “Oh, so now ya’ remember, huh, now that ya’ have a knife in yer face?” You nod and Bo shoves you back into the mattress. The knife clatters to the ground and you hear the clink and slip of his belt as he jerks it off his hips. You clamp your eyes shut when he snaps the leather, knowing exactly what comes next.

             The first slap of leather across your skin makes you jump and shriek. Sharp, stinging pain follows each noisy smack, the sound bouncing off the walls and ceiling until all you can hear are the blows, your yelps, and the blood rushing in your ears. You wriggle, flinching as much as you dare as leather connects agonizingly with your skin again and again. You wish the pain didn’t make you burn with need, but Bo’s conditioned you well after all this time.

             “Fuck,” he groans under his breath, warm palm smoothing over the angry, throbbing skin of your ass and thighs. He drops the belt, leans over you, tips your head to the side, and brushes his thumb through the tears you just now realize are staining your cheeks.

             “Oh, baby girl, ya’ look real pretty when ya’ cry. Roll over.” You do, flopping onto your back as quickly as possible. Bo spreads your slick thighs wide, settles between them, pops the button on his pants, and slides the zipper. He pulls his painfully hard, flushed cock from his pants, sighing in relief and lifting you hips to line up with your damp entrance. With a grunt and a groan, he slams home, plowing through tight, slippery muscles and tearing a scream from your throat.

             Bloody, calloused hands wrap around your neck and silence your cry. He jackhammers you into the mattress, indifferent to your own pleasure, intent on permanently imprinting himself in your cunt for all time.

             “That’s right, baby, that’s right.” You choke on nothing, twisting your hands in the sheets, face feeling like it’s going to burst with how hard he squeezes your throat, “Sure, yer a cock hungry slut, but yer my cock hungry slut, got that? This. Is. Mine.” You nod and he lets off so you can gulp in air and cough.

             “Yer nothin’ but my stupid little fuck toy, yeah? Say, ‘Yes, daddy.’”

             “Y-Yes, daddy!” you shout, moaning loudly when he tilts his hips and batters that perfect spot he knows will make you scream. Bo spits on your chest, smearing the saliva over your breasts and rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger. He slides his wet hand up your neck, over your chin, and shoves three spit-covered fingers in your mouth.

             “Suck on my fingers, get ‘em nice and wet fer me.” You suck as well as you can, laving your tongue along the pads of his digits until he groans. Bo rips his fingers from your mouth, spits on them, brings them to your clit. He mashes the sensitive bud until you’re keening and meeting each punishing thrust.

             “Ya’ think you deserve to cum, slut?” You shake your head and Bo laughs, “No? That’s right, ya’ don’t. Only good girls get ta’ cum.”

             “P-Please, daddy,” you whine, “Please, I’ll-I’ll be g-good.”

             “Ya’ wanna be good now?” Frantically, you nod, heat building in your core, muscles fluttering around the cock assaulting your insides.

             “Who-f-fuck-who do ya’ belong to?”

             “You! Bo, daddy, please, you, I’m yours, I’m yours, please, fuck, I’m, I have—

             “That’s right, bitch, yer mine. Mine. This filthy fuckin’ cunt is mine.”

             “Yes! Yes! Yours! Please, daddy, PLEASE!” You’re going to implode, shaking from head to toe, poised right at the brink but terrified to fall.

             “Cum for me, slut, cum on my cock, fuckin’ do it.” You scream, vision whiting out, back arching off the mattress, every nerve in your body alight with beautiful sensation.

             “Fuck, god, fuck, ‘m gonna fill that dumb cunt up with cum.” Bo wraps his hands around your throat and buries his cock as far into you as he can get. With a broken cry he spills warmth into your belly, his face twisted with pleasure as your twitching muscles milk him dry.

             Bo slumps, catching himself with hands planted on either side of your head. Breathing hard, you meet his gaze under your teary lashes. The anger burning in his baby blues has dampened to a smolder. There’s more lust there than anything else now.

             “Say it again,” he rasps, dry throat cracking when he speaks.

             “I’m yours, Bo.”

             “That’s my girl.”

[sombreboy]

Tease me⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm ⇢word count: 5.4k ⇢warnings: profanity, tae sends jk pics of his cock smh, they skip class to fuck don’t do that educate urself my lovely peeps, dom!kth, sub!jjk, blowjob, fingering, anal, sex in public place, this is fiction pls use lubey lube

A/N: Serves as a oneshot within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own. Co-written with my lovely @velvetwicebang​ <3

Either the clock had been stuck on the same time for over a trillion hours, or Taehyung’s brain was having a blast poking at the boy’s established impatience.

It felt as if he’d been sitting through Mrs. Choi’s lesson for way too long now; his ass had certainly left a permanent imprint on the hard-as-shit chair. The discomfort only irked Taehyung even more, and the latter couldn’t be bothered to mask his see-through disinterest, facial expression resistant— Who the fuck needs calculus, anyways? Calculators exist.

The boy’s leg bounced from underneath the desk, wanting nothing more than to yell out ‘Fuck math!’ and storm out of there. But of course, he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted to prove Jungkook wrong. The younger was smart as hell, and Taehyung knew how seriously he took his studies. Naturally, being in a relationship with someone so academically-driven also meant Tae couldn’t fall behind. And he was trying to prove to Jungkook that he was capable of getting good grades, when he actually tried..

The elder let out a soft sigh, gaze flickering to the front of the class, acting carefully before he pulled out his phone from the front pocket of his pants. 

To: JK Hey

Taehyung waited a minute, no response.

To: JK I’m boreed 

Jungkook always took forever to reply.

To: JK i know you’re seeing these smh, won’t even reply to your boyfriend

Suddenly, Tae got an idea. The elder flicked through his camera roll, lips slowly curling outwards into a cheeky grin before he attached a very personal picture..

To: JK meant to send this to you the other day I was soo fucking hard, can you see?? you like the view?

It was an image of his cock, the tip pink and swollen, veins running alongside the smooth edges. 

If this didn’t get Jungkook’s attention, Taehyung would be surprised.

Jungkook feels the incoming texts in the form of a series of vibrations against his leg, and normally he would ignore it completely... but he knows it's his boyfriend, so it was getting incredibly difficult to ignore. His lecture was boring anyway, the teacher blabbering about a topic he already excelled in, so he didn't feel as bad about sneaking his phone out underneath the desk…

Kook's breath hitched when he swiped the conversation open, only to be greeted by Taehyung's fat cock staring right back at him, so hard and--- it had the younger's thighs pressing together just thinking about the way it felt in his mouth. Heavy, smooth... fuck.

He glanced around, thankful he didn't have anybody sitting close to him for once. Tapping in his reply, his cheeks are hot, his lower lip caught by his bunny like upper teeth.

To: Tae I'm in class babe...

Jungkook sighed when he took another look at the picture, suddenly class was the last thing he cared about.

To: Tae ... I really love the view... I can't focus now

At first glance, Taehyung was a bit surprised Jungkook actually rolled along with it, but oh was he pleased.. He hadn’t intended for the conversation to turn sexual... not from the beginning, at least. The elder played his cards right, an unexpected dick-pic granted him his boyfriend’s undivided attention. Taehyung loved being the only one running through Jungkook’s mind..

To: JK oh yeah? thinking hard about my cock now? ooo naughtyyy 

He also fuckin’ loved to tease the hell out of Koo. 

To: JK i get really hard just thinking about you you and your cute ass

The elder comfortably leaned back in his chair, typing with one hand whilst the other lingered close to his crotch, itching to slip it past the band of his trousers..

To: JK that ass is tight as fuck too didn’t even need to jerk off to porn, i got off to the picture of you on my phone came so much, fuuck

Jungkook had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from embarrassing himself, the natural urge to whine because of what Tae tells him through text was astonishing. The power this man had over the younger... one sentence and Kook is already uncomfortably adjusting his length that is resting against his thigh.

To: Tae Tae, seriously! you can't say things like this... I almost moaned out loud I can't focus!!!!

Jungkook stared at the picture for the umpteenth time, bit swollen lips parting lightly to exhale a longing sigh. His gaze flickered between the lecture and his phone again as he kept typing.

To: Tae fuck... and I'm getting hard. Want you in my mouth.

Kook blushed a bit as he sent the last two messages. However, two could play a game of tease during class... Tae might just be better at it. But that doesnt mean Kook won't at least try.. maybe he has a higher effect than he thinks.

Either way, Taehyung was a master of seduction, whether it be a quick fuck, or a sensual evening in bed--- it's undeniable that his sex appeal is off the roof. Hence why Jungkook is sitting in fucking class with his cock pulsating underneath the table. Shit.

The elder’s lean fingers curled inwards into a tightly-knotted fist, blunt nails sunk deep into the clammy flesh of his palm. All the while, Taehyung’s beast of a boner prodded at the fabric of his pants, the striking outline a cherry in a basket of strawberries. Anyone with a working eye could see Taehyung was worked up about something..

To: JK such a tease, baby so sudden? bet you were thinking about me fucking the shit out of your pretty mouth for a long time i know you like it real rough

The light film of sweat collected on his hand seeped onto the fabric of Taehyung’s jeans whilst he slowly smoothed his palm over his erection, the corner of his lip twitching in aggravation. He wanted to stuff Jungkook’s stretchable mouth full through the screen, fuck it hard until his dick turned limp.

To: JK naughty boy, you probably touched yourself to the thought of my fat cock before we were even together

He angled the phone down, pressing record before rubbing at his clothed cock, thumb swirling around the bulging head.

“Fuck..” Taehyung grunted softly, flipping the camera around to selfie-mode so Jungkook would have a different perspective. He kept it low, pretending the camera’s lens was Kook’s doe eyes, picturing his boyfriend on his knees— Taehyung staring down at him.

Even from such an angle, Tae managed to look intimidating. His raven fringe running past his hooded eyes, jaw clenching as he held in his moans, cheekbones prominent.. He had it all.

He tapped on the red dot once more, attaching the newly-made video before pressing send.

To: JK this the cock you’re thirsting for?? see how hard it is? it’s even harder when i fuck it real deep in you

Jungkook hovered over the video, swallowing tightly before pressed play. It was a dangerous game that his boyfriend played, and Kook knows he already lost. Taehyung's fat cock, his piercing gaze, even through a fucking phone screen had the younger mans insides clenching around nothing, his mouth salivating. He couldn't even hold back the quiet groan that rumbled in his chest, passing it off as an awkward cough to avoid attention.

To: Tae Yeah.. love when you're rough..

Koo blushes, ignoring the obvious statement of him touching himself to the thought of Tae prior to their relationship...

Although Jungkook knows he's already a puddle for the elder, he knows Tae does have a thing for the digital aspect of things... whether it be porn, nudes, or videos. Even when sending a simple recording of his cock, he made it look great... he was a natural with the lens.

Kook angled his own phone camera to snap a picture, squeezing his thick length through his sweatpants to show the prominent outline. Then he snaps a second one, very quickly of his bit swollen lips, sending both in one go.

To: Tae I want it so bad... See how hard you made me too...  I keep biting my lip or I'll whine out loud... you asshole

Koo smiles through the haze of lust, the endearing cursing between them still something they both just do-- and love.

A small, barely-noticeable smile pulled at the corners of Taehyung’s wet lips.

To: JK shut up... asshole you’re liking this

Then it was back to internally groaning over the pictures Jungkook had sent, lust-crazed pupils dilating at the mere image of those swollen lips wrapped snug around the velvety skin of his cock.

To: JK excuse yourself and meet me in the same spot don’t take forever

It was the last nudge; Taehyung had to act on his urges before he went crazy.

He excused himself from the lesson, lying saying he had to go to the restroom. Taehyung did need to get something out of his system, but it wasn’t what everyone else thought.

Jungkook licked his lips at the commanding invitation, swiftly putting his phone back into his pocket as he excused himself, also lying about his whereabouts. Luckily, he was easily let off without much questioning, being one of the teacher's favorites. Piece. of. cake.

He shoved his books into his backpack before hurrying towards their secret spot, internally competing whether he would possibly make it there before Taehyung this time-- just to rub it off in his face.

As Jungkook made it there, he looked around, not yet seeing the male... He glanced down at his phone, a small smile tugging on his lips. Did he make it first?

Turns out whenever Taehyung was horny, the boy could run a marathon. If there was something worth claiming at the finish line, Tae was there. This time, the prize just so happened to be his lovely boyfriend.. It was no surprise when he’d gotten there first, too impatient to miss a longing beat to his steps. But, being the cheeky bastard Taehyung was best known for, he hid from Jungkook.

When he made out the younger male’s figure, that was when he tip-toed out of hiding, pressing his chest to Kook’s back as his arms circled around his torso.

“Hey—“ Taehyung laughed at Jungkook’s startled jump, angling his neck to press a chaste kiss to the younger’s cheek.

“Relax, it’s me. Slow ass..” The elder joked, swiftly turning Koo around on his feet by a quick twist of the younger’s waist.

"Ah! Tae... shit, I've told you not to scare me like that..." Jungkook's annoyance quickly morphed into a grin, unable to stay mad as he twirled to face his boyfriend. His hands immediately find the elders soft, dark curls, itching to run his fingers through them.

"I wasn't slow, you must be sonic or some shit...." he chuckles, drawing Tae in for a kiss, unable to hold his bit swollen lips away for a second longer.

Taehyung acceptingly immersed himself in the warm, summery feeling of Jungkook’s lips, dipping his toe in the latter-infected waters. 

He breathed in Jungkook; he felt Jungkook’s presence all around. Every curve and dip of the younger’s body was a place Taehyung knew all too well.

He squeezed at Kook’s delicate waist. Taehyung’s lost count of how many times his needy hands would hold onto the flesh. It was the most familiar spot..

“Don’t think I forgot all about the, ‘want you in my mouth’ shit you pulled..” The elder practically muttered, tracing daring kisses along Jungkook’s jawline, down his neck, on his collarbones..

Anywhere that would allow the sudden intrusion.

“That got me so hard. You knew it’d faze me, huh?” Taehyung gently drove Jungkook’s back against the concrete wall, shuffling a leg between the younger’s, sensually rubbing at his boyfriend’s awakened crotch.

“You knew it’d make me wanna push you down to your knees and fuck your throat swollen, didn’t you?”

"Y-yeah-- fuck..." Jungkook immediately feels like he melts into the wall behind him, the cool surface juxtaposing the fire in his body. His cheeks are flushed red, snapping his chin to the side as he blushes, whining quietly when Taes knee massages his length. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was brought to a full hard on, but then again; Kook being absolutely whipped for Tae is no news.

“Baby likes it rough, tsk. You know which buttons to push, alright..”

Taehyung tilted his head and aimed for the side of Jungkook’s neck, where he sucked greedily on the discolored patch whilst his hands snaked past the loose band of Kook’s sweatpants.

Fondling and jiggling a handful of Jungkook’s bare ass in his bigger hands, Tae purposely pressed their bodies closer together, leaving little room to the imagination.

He groped and squeezed at the plump skin, pulling Jungkook’s lower body away from the wall, grunting against his boyfriend’s neck as he left dark hickeys to linger on for days.

“So fucking gorgeous, my pretty boy..” 

Taehyung pulled away, seemingly pleased with his colorful creations.

“Now, get down on your knees, pretty.”

Jungkook didn't need to be told twice, abruptly dropping down on his knees in front of Taehyung, his strong hands smoothing down his torso to his thighs on the way down. His doe eyes stare back up at the elder with a mix of submission, admiration, and greed, licking his lightly chapped lips.

"You think I'm pretty?" Kook tilts his head like a curious puppy, his coyly cocked eyebrow morphing with his small smile that couldn't be helped. He always felt a bit giddy whenever Tae praised him in various ways.

He keeps his hands on Tae's thighs, slowly inching back to tug at the zipper, greedy to see and feel the weight of his boyfriend's cock on his tongue.

"Fuck my mouth, I'll look even prettier.." He whispers out his words, a bit flustered to utter them.

“Shit, I don’t doubt it for a fucking second..” Taehyung felt strapping as he confidently towered over Jungkook, one hand pressed against the wall whilst the other glided through Kook’s silky hair, caressing the younger’s scalp with gentle fingers.

“Always hungry for my big cock, who would’ve thought the prettiest boys would be so dirty..”

His thumb faintly brushed over Jungkook’s cheekbone, studying the latter’s submissive pose before him. Taehyung cockily widened his stance, feet shoulder-width apart and hips slightly jutted out.

He waited until Jungkook undid his zipper before taking control, tugging on his briefs just enough for his needy cock to pop out, his warm balls laying still against the waistband.

“You wanna suck my dick? Wanna know what your ass gets a taste of every time I fuck you?” The elder harshly bit down on his lower lip, “Stick your tongue out.”

Knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long, a faint smirk took over Taehyung’s features at Jungkook’s eagerness.

“Even your tongue is gorgeous, fuck.” 

With one hand around the base, Tae rubbed the head of his cock along the wet muscle, gripping onto a handful of Jungkook’s hair whilst he stared down at his boyfriend, internally praising him for being so good..

“Hmm..” He gently slapped the thick girth on Kook’s tongue; soft, wet splatter sounds taking over their senses.

Jungkook hummed in delight when he could taste droplets of Tae's precum with every gentle thud against his tongue. He inched even closer, opening his mouth wider as he stuck out his wet, flattened tongue further, as if begging for more already.

Kook is a shy boy, but when it came to Taehyung; he was a selfish, greedy man.

However, he knew not to get too greedy, unless he wanted to annoy his boyfriend. It was usually a one way ticket to limp town. Sometimes he wanted it, sometimes he didn't. 

Today was one of those days where he wanted it rough.

So, the younger didn't wait for instructions, neither did he say a word before he ignored the tug in his hair as he leaned forward, taking Taehyung's cock into his mouth. It was worth it, the smooth skin and tangy mix of salt and sweet coated his tongue wonderfully. His vibrating moan reached his throat, sure that Tae could feel it around his cock.

Kook's mischievous, doe eyes stared back up at him, his plushy lips stretched and reddened as they worked hard to accommodate Taehyung's girth.

“Wait, what are you doi— shit..” Taehyung’s heavy-lidded eyes abruptly enlarged; his initial shock vividly magnified on his features in the form of arched brows. He watched as his boyfriend’s plushy lips enclosed around his hardened length, spouting a thick blanket of warmth throughout Tae’s body, overpowering his cold demeanor. That’s all Taehyung did— stare. 

No one had ever disobeyed him, they waited for him to take control of the situation. Until now..

And if Taehyung wasn’t so fond of the power it granted him; he would’ve been less irritated at Jungkook and his sudden boldness.

The assertive grip on the younger’s hair returned as Taehyung harshly yanked him away from his cock, jaw muscles clenched and gaze intimidating. 

Who did Jungkook think he was? The younger was stripped of his control every time they fucked; Taehyung liked it that way. To say this was a surprise was an understatement..

“What have I told you about doing shit without my permission, Jungkook?”

However, no matter how much Tae tried to force himself to dislike it, he couldn’t. His boyfriend’s eagerness was endearing.

“Impatient boy..”

Digging his fingers deeper into Kook’s mess of a hair, Taehyung forced the younger back in once again. This time, it was on his terms.

He controlled the pace in which Jungkook’s head bobbed, rhythmic hips thrusting slowly to meet each plunge.

“Hmm.. fuck yeah.” The wetness lathering around him from inside Kook’s mouth tipped Taehyung’s head back, grunting softly as his eyes squinted shut, black curls sticking to the light layer of sweat exuding from his creased forehead.

At that moment, he didn’t have a care in the goddamn world. 

Taehyung towered further over Kook, extending out his free hand against the wall in front of him and fixing his grasp on Jungkook’s hair. The elder held his boyfriend’s head in place as he thrusted into him, hips eager and swift as he began fucking his mouth.

“Like that? Shame you can’t answer with a cock in your mouth..”

The sparkle of mischief in Jungkook's eyes never subsided, saying more than enough at the fact that this is exactly what he wished for. To spur on Taehyung's dominance, hearing, seeing and feeling the elder manhandle him and mock him-- fuck, the younger's cock was leaking underneath his pants.

"Mmm....mmhhh.." Jungkook hummed with joy, gaze glassy with tears from the burning stretch in his throat. It was bittersweet, but he was ever the masochist for Tae's big dick. He stared up at the various expressions of pleasure and coy mockery playing on Taehyung's face, only able to look up for so long before tears began to trickle down his cheeks, mixing in with the drool seeping out his mouth with every rough thrust, Tae's cock taking up the space in his throat.

Jungkook relaxed in the elder's hold, using his flattened tongue in his mouth to allow the slick length to glide effortlessly. He breathed heavily through his nose, however only able to do so every few drags when the head of Tae's swollen cock wasn't blocking the airway as it was lodged back in his throat with every snap of his hips.

Kook's grasp tightened on Taehyung's pants by his thighs, seeking some kind of leverage, muffled whines and hums stuck in his chest to be killed by the loud sound of wet squelches.

The piteous, gagged response of a hum fed into Taehyung’s inner sadist as he was physically driven to ram deeper into Jungkook’s mouth. He wasn’t worried— well, too worried. Of course Tae was precautious; he didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend. But he knew Jungkook could handle his hefty cock. After all, they’ve had plenty of practice during their time together..

They rarely spent a day without any action; Kook’s body was a magnet for Taehyung’s longing hands to obsess over.

“Sweet boy, takin’ all of my cock like a champ..” Tae hissed, entranced by the way he’d continuously bulge against Jungkook’s hickey-stained throat, feeling the sensitive tip roughly prod at the inflamed flesh. 

“Hngh.. so warm, baby. Almost as warm as your tight ass.” His panting grew thicker, losing the momentum he once started with, “Look at you, so fuckable. Hmph.. just wanna stretch the shit out of you, leave you open wide and shaking.” Taehyung yanked harder on Jungkook’s hair, knuckles lacking their natural color.

“I’d cum so much inside, fuck, you’d be so full.” 

With one last powerful, forced slam, Tae stopped the movement of his hips before he would break loose. All that talk made him realize how much he missed being inside of his boyfriend, even if he’d just fucked him a couple days ago..

“Pretty..” The pad of this thumb brushed under Jungkook’s eyes, wiping away the fresh tears that’d resurfaced. Taehyung slowly pulled his cock out, gaze softened as he stared down at Jungkook’s smaller position.

“Stand up and kiss me, baby. Wanna taste myself on your lips.”

Pebbles roll on the ground from the quick momentum of just how eagerly Jungkook got back up on his feet, arms clinging around Taehyung's neck to bring him in for a needy kiss. The younger's plush lips moved naturally against his boyfriend's, his familiar mouth bringing nothing but comfort and an immense need to taste more, and more.

"Ah..." Kook was gentle however, allowing Taehyung to be in control of the intensity, but the needy whines coming from the younger showed just how badly he wanted every single little thing the elder would offer.

"Taee...." Jungkook timidly moans against his lips, his erection pressing up against him like a needy boy. "You taste so good.. Can you taste it?"

“I do, baby, tastes good..” Taehyung leaned in for more, pushing his tongue past the small, hitched opening in between Jungkook’s puffy lips to ease the areas in which his cock took proper advantage of. The kiss was sloppy, yet precise as Tae carefully moved his lips against Kook’s smaller ones, pleased vibrations emitting from his chest.

Not bearing the emptiness in his palms, his hands resumed groping Jungkook’s ass.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Koo. Gonna make it quick, alright?” Tae pressed a soft kiss to Jungkook’s nose before tugging at the younger’s sweatpants and briefs in one go, too impatient to go about it any other way. 

“So aroused ‘n pretty..” Taehyung’s breath hitched at the sight of Kook’s hard cock, head oozing with droplets of precum. “Just like you.”

He carefully drove them back against the wall, this time pushing Jungkook’s chest against the concrete and tugging gently at the younger’s hip, making his ass stick out. 

His boyfriend didn’t need any prep, they’ve fucked enough times in the course of a week alone. But it didn’t hurt to tease Kook a bit— Taehyung never turned that down.

“Gonna stick my finger in, breathe.” Tae didn’t lie, his middle finger slowly pushed past the bundle of nerves trying to force him out, but he didn’t budge. His forehead was rested against Jungkook’s nape, lips slightly agape as he looked down at what he was doing. The elder’s other hand spread one of Koo’s cheeks, giving him a wider view.

“Shit, you cool? Found that sweet spot you always like..” The pad of Tae’s finger quickly rubbed at the side of Jungkook’s prostate.

“You love it when I tease it, admit it.”

Jungkook muttered breathy curses, placing his elbows against the concrete for leverage. His soft cheek pressed to the wall, flushed in the initial embarrassment of being this exposed-- in this place... Tae always managed to make him feel small and pretty-- and the praise only built on to his reddened cheeks... and throbbing cock.

"Ah..." His low curses quickly morphed into higher pitched moans the second his boyfriend's long, slender finger touched the one sweet spot that only he could reach. "Fuck, yeah.... I love it-- please, more."

Taehyung always knew how to please him, just with one finger he had reduced Kook to nothing but a slut for him. Every single time they fucked, the one word Jungkook would chant like a prayer was just that. More.

"D-don't tease me too much... I'll go crazy, please, stretch me more." Jungkook's pathetic voice was shaky, rutting his ass back against Taehyung's finger, his thigh muscles tensing and relaxing every single time his sensitive flesh was prodded.

Taehyung reached in deeper, the stretchable skin of Jungkook’s wet rim now surpassing his knuckle, clenching tight around the elder’s long digit as he massaged Koo’s warm insides. The elder’s cock throbbed against Jungkook’s soft cheek, jealous it wasn’t receiving any special attention— for now. Tae wasn’t planning on leaving it forgotten for long..

“I’ll stretch you out good, just be patient..” Tae left soft kisses along Jungkook’s shoulders and flexed shoulder blades, twisting his head slightly to continue against the crook of the younger’s neck, the silent sounds of his sweet kisses only audible to the both of them. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, you know that?” The warmth of Taehyung’s breath clung on to Jungkook’s ear whilst he praised, lingering close until Tae’s face was no longer near; no longer trapping in the heat of his soft words.

“I’m gonna put it in, I know you’re dying to feel a hard cock in you. My hard cock..” Taehyung swiftly dragged out his finger, taking a hold of his dick and lining it up against Jungkook’s entrance, rubbing the tip against his puckered rim before gently advancing his hips forward, harshly biting on his lips as he did so.

“Hngh.. warm. Tight as fuckin’ always, fuck.”

Jungkook's drawn out moan sounded more like a whiny cry, muffled by his hand as to not want to draw any attention-- but it was hard. However, something about possibly being caught had the younger's entire being tingling with excitement. Maybe he was a little bit of an exhibitionist after all...

"Mmph... Tae, god... big.." Kook struggled to put together any sort of coherent sentence, muffling out words into his hand in between breathy cries. His fleshy insides constricted around his boyfriend's thick girth harder the deeper it drilled into him, taking shallow breaths to relax. His thighs shake with anticipation, he couldn't bear to be patient...

Jungkook arched his back further, hungry for more of Taehyung to enter him, glancing over his shoulder to see his expressions. If there was one thing Jungkook loved just as much as hearing how good he felt, it was seeing it as well.

The elder granted Jungkook just that— thick eyebrows knit together as he fully bottomed out, cock snug and protected in between Kook’s gripping insides, the unpredicted squeezes prompting the latter to grit his teeth until his jaw turned sore.

Taehyung engaged in promising eye contact, his bedroom eyes gazing deep into Jungkook’s wavering ones. Tae’s back remained slightly hunched as his blue-veined hands held onto the other’s hips, fingers digging into the sweaty crease connecting the younger’s hip bone and his leg. 

“Damn, been waiting to fuck this ass for a hot minute..” He added movement to his stance, keeping it slow and collected at the beginning for the sake of their enjoyment.

“My ass. I own this shit now, fuck..” The hitting of his pelvis against Jungkook became more noticeable, the smacking of their skin every time they met almost as distinct as Koo’s soft whines.

“Only mine to fuck raw and stretch.” Taehyung’s thrusting grew more aggressive, forceful snaps turning quicker and harder..

“I’m the only guy that gets to bust in this little ass, fuckin’ better stay that way..” 

The mere thought of another dude fucking Jungkook led Taehyung to grunt in displease, panting softly as he no longer worried about holding back, entering Kook’s ass again and again until he could no longer keep count.

Jungkook's doe eyes rolled back in pleasure, fluttering shut before he dipped his head low, his long curls falling forward as he faced down. Every snap of Taehyung's hips drew a louder moan out of him, every inhale a hitched breath, every exhale a whiny moan.

"Only y-yours, Tae--fuck, want you, just you-- gah..." It was hard to speak when his body was jolting forward roughly with every thrust, his strong arms flexing to keep his head from thudding into the concrete wall from the brute force his boyfriend fucked him with.

"Don't want anybody else to fuck me, your cock-- ah, your cock is the fuckin' best... Want you foreve-eer, shit..." His moans were bordering on sobs at this point, the mixture of pleasure, slight pain, and his love for the elder made the entire experience euphoric; and Jungkook was addicted to it. They've done this countless times, and instead of growing bored of it, the younger wanted more, more, more.

"Wanna cum, babe, please-- can I touch myself?" Kook's eyes open, staring down at his bobbing, swollen cock, the reddened tip drooling with precum, aching for any touch. "Tell me I can, please."

“We’ll do it together,” letting go of one of Jungkook’s slightly-bruised hips, Taehyung reached for the younger’s hand that rested on the dirtied wall, leading it downwards to where Kook’s firm, pretty cock sprung with the sustained pace of his thrusts. Taehyung forced Jungkook’s fingers to close in tight around his own shaft, the elder’s bigger hand applying extra pressure as he jerked them in sync up and down, up and down..

The leaking precum sitting atop Kook’s tip helped alleviate the glide, movements swift and aggressive. Taehyung was the one in charge, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum..” He wrapped his arm around Jungkook’s delicate waist, pulling him in until his gasping chest molded against the small dip of Koo’s slick back.

“Cum with me, baby.” Taehyung’s jerk of his sore hand never faltered, and neither did each shove into Jungkook’s insides. He was much too excited to get them both over the edge, the upcoming release a certain high he could never get tired of.

Jungkook's loud, shameless sounds were a mixture of sobs and moans from the overwhelming sensations, his slick cock aggressively working towards his release along with his boyfriend's cock forcibly prodding at his sensitive prostate over and over. Kook's was fuckin' done for, he couldn't even attempt to hold back his orgasm if he tried.

"S-shit, fuck, fuuck--!" Nothing but curses rolled off his swollen tongue, words a foreign concept pushed to the back of his mind when all he could think about was Taehyung's fat cock entering him again, and again until every musce in his body tensed up, his cock stiffening in the grasp of both men before it began to pulsate in a rhytmical pattern, spurts of cum gushing out against the concrete wall.

"God-- cumming, ah, o-ouch..." Kook's high pitched whines in pleasure distorted into oversensitivity quickly, pressing his forehead against the dirty wall, gnashing his teeth together. "D-don't stop, please, cum in me-- T-taehyung.." His breathy voice pleaded, his thighs shaking to keep him up. He was grateful for the tight hold of his boyfriend around his waist, or he was sure he'd fall to his knees without a doubt.

“Oh fuuck, that’s my boy.. you’re cumming— hmph!, so much, cute.” Taehyung’s hips mindlessly picked up their thrusting until they stuttered, sleek body coming to a complete stop before Tae threw his head forward in a rasped shout, swelled cock twitching as it released the elder’s heavy load deep into his boyfriend’s clutching insides.

“A-ah.. ah, oh..” The hold around Jungkook’s waist had tightened, holding him closer as Taehyung’s way to steady himself after such a powerful climax. The elder’s body quivered slightly, feeling himself slowly soften while his cum dripped from out of Jungkook, running down the latter’s wobbly legs and onto the ground.

“Wow..”

He made sure Kook was steady enough before pulling out, withdrawing from the younger and immediately resting his back against the wall. Taehyung wiped at his face with the lower fabric of his shirt, the material sticking closely to his heaving chest.

“That was great, I didn’t think you’d let me fuck you in a public place.” Tae turned to look at Jungkook after tucking himself back in, smiling tiredly. 

“You simp... I know you wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” Now Taehyung was teasing, giggling cheekily as he called Koo out for his unforeseen actions.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.